The Scribe Page 3

  Maddy was a one-year-qualified litigation associate at Channing & Barton. City law demanded a sharp mind and a thick skin, and Maddy was cut from the right cloth. But despite being popular amongst the partners she worked her butt off for, she’d sensed her head of department giving her the evil eye when she’d darted past his office at 9.35 am yesterday morning. And not for the first time. Okay, so she rarely left the office before 8 pm, frequently worked weekends, bank holidays, and even during her annual leave, but it was still a written rule that all staff were to be in by 9.30 am at the latest, and if she didn’t watch out, she’d find herself being summoned for a terse ticking-off and a stern warning that she’d better get her act together pronto or face being replaced by some equally ambitious associate, only too eager to relinquish any sort of life for none at all.

  ‘Maddy, did you hear me? Come and look at the news. I don’t think you’ll be going into work today.’

  Maddy rolled her eyes at Atticus, her beloved white Persian cat, who’d just come into the bathroom and was gazing at her sympathetically with his brilliant copper eyes. She gave him a weary smile. He has it good. Not a care in the world, aside from his next saucer of milk, and regular nap schedule. Sometimes, she wished she could trade places with him, or at least slow down a bit and make some time for herself.

  She hurriedly wiped away the white moustache that had developed above her top lip. What’s he on about now, she thought crossly as she adjusted the belt on her pencil skirt. It was him, Paul King, her best friend from law school. He was the one responsible for her habitual tardiness. Always talking, always distracting her with something on the telly, the latest gossip, daily updates on his complicated love life involving men he fancied but who didn’t fancy him back. She loved Paul to bits; she owed him everything after he’d saved her one night from a couple of thugs out on the prowl for a pretty college girl.

  He was kind, considerate and thoughtful, and loved nothing more than curling up on the sofa in front of a soppy romcom with a Cosmo and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s. But in terms of looks, Paul was a man’s man. Tall, dark-haired, powerfully built; physically speaking, he wasn’t someone you’d want to mess with. One look at him, and Maddy’s weedier assailants had scarpered. She often wondered what might have happened if he hadn’t appeared in the nick of time, bravely warning them to get lost. He was her knight in shining armour. If only he was straight. Then he would have been perfect.

  They’d moved in together at the end of their first year at the Bloomsbury Academy of Law. But after finishing there, their lives had taken very different paths. Maddy had landed a training contract with Channing & Barton before starting at the academy. All she had to do was pass the Graduate Diploma in Law along with the Legal Practice Course to secure her place. She ended up with a distinction in both.

  In contrast, one year on, Paul had passed his exams but failed to secure a training contract, working a series of dead-end day jobs to pay the rent, still partying hard like a student at night, while Maddy kept her nose to the grindstone.

  Not that it seemed to bother Paul. One night, over a skinful, he’d confessed to Maddy that he’d never much liked law. It was too dull, and his heart wasn’t in it; a sentiment that probably came across at interview.

  Paul’s father – George King, a rich City lawyer himself – had pushed his only child into law, considering it, along with medicine and accounting, to be a credible, worthy profession, and one that would perhaps make up for his son’s sexuality, something he could never accept, even when it was just him and Paul alone together.

  Unlike his self-absorbed mother, Evelyn, who’d palmed him off to nannies the moment she’d pushed him out into the world, and had numerous affairs, Paul had worshipped his father. Which made the hurt on his face when Paul had revealed his homosexuality almost too much to bear. Desperate to win back his father’s favour, Paul had suppressed his dreams of becoming a writer, and gone to law school. But his world came crashing down when George died of a massive heart attack during his first year at the academy. Evelyn, now free to spend the substantial proceeds of her dead husband’s estate to her heart’s content, didn’t much care what Paul did with his life. Which, ironically, was good for Paul. He’d always lacked the confidence to stand his ground, and so her indifference made his decision easier for him. He finished the course out of respect for his father, but now there was no one to stop him from following his heart, which was to write. Maddy had been happy for him. He’d already written two novels, which he’d self-published on Amazon, but for an unknown like him, securing a publisher was akin to winning the lottery. Which was why he worked nights in an East End bar to pay the rent, coming home in the small hours to the two-bedroom flat they shared a few minutes’ walk from Bow Road Tube station.

  ‘Paul, I’m running late again. I really have to go.’ Maddy came racing into the living room in search of her favourite suit jacket which had gone AWOL, Atticus following leisurely behind.

  ‘Looking for this?’ Paul offered up the missing item.

  ‘Oh, yeah, thanks.’ She seized it off him, missing his sober expression. As she swivelled round, desperate to make a quick exit, something on the TV caught her eye. A photo of someone she knew well, but whose face she’d never expected to see on BBC News at 8.20 am. As she turned around slowly to face the screen square on, her surprise turned to disbelief, then fear.

  The words “Double murder at top City law firm” appeared on the rolling caption at the foot of the screen.

  ‘And now some breaking news just in…’ the newscaster was saying, ‘… we’re getting reports that the body of Sarah Morrell, a second-year trainee at top City law firm Channing & Barton, was found around 5.30 am this morning by security guard Michael Evans. The body of Frank Jones, another security guard at the firm who had been working the night shift, was found by Evans around thirty minutes before. We understand that the police have launched an official murder investigation. Forensics are currently at the scene trying to gather as much evidence as possible …’

  ‘This can’t be happening,’ Maddy murmured. ‘Frank, Sarah … dead?’ It felt like time had stopped; that she was trapped in some bizarre parallel world that was surely playing a sick joke on her.

  As reality kicked in, her legs turned to jelly. She felt her knees buckle, but Paul was quick to reach out and steady her, before gently sitting her down on the sofa as if she was made of glass.

  ‘… And now we’re able to take you live to the offices of Channing & Barton for a brief statement from the officer in charge of the investigation …’

  The footage switched to outside Channing & Barton’s offices. A man appeared on screen. The caption at the bottom revealed him to be Detective Chief Inspector Jake Carver.

  ‘… DCI Carver, as the senior investigating officer for the case, what can you tell us at this time …?’

  Despite her woozy state, Maddy took in Carver’s face. It was ruggedly handsome, with a strong square jaw etched with a series of prominent lines which zigzagged all the way up his cheeks to his forehead like a rough dirt track. Visible signs of a hard life, a life that had seen and endured a lot, and which continued to take its toll. His walnut-brown hair was cut short, his unusual pale grey eyes open and honest. The camera zoomed in close, and she could just about decipher a scar on his chin. Acquired in the line of duty, or a boyhood tumble? She could tell he was a tough, pragmatic type, and before he spoke, she imagined his voice to be deep and gravelly.

  She imagined right.

  ‘… Michael Evans, a security guard at City law firm Channing & Barton, arrived for his shift at 5 am this morning. Upon arrival, he found the body of Frank Jones, the security guard who had been working the night shift, in the reception area of the building. Mr Jones had been killed with a single gunshot wound to his forehead …’

  Maddy covered her mouth in shock. She vaguely felt Paul rub her back, and was grateful for his familiar touch.

  ‘… Half an hour later, having called the police,
Mr Evans found the body of Sarah Morrell, a trainee at the firm who, as we understand things, had been working late the previous night, and had not yet signed out in accordance with firm procedure …’

  ‘The Monicrom deal …’ Maddy whispered. ‘Remember I mentioned it’s been running the Banking team ragged? It was about to close, I think.’

  ‘… in one of the larger meeting rooms on the twelfth floor of the building …’

  ‘Can I get you some water?’ Paul asked.

  Maddy’s eyes remained fixed on Carver. ‘No, I’m fine.’

  ‘… Are you able to give us any further details as to how Ms Morrell died?’ the reporter enquired.

  Carver’s expression became grave. ‘Not at this time. The circumstances of Ms Morrell’s death are extremely distressing, and our sympathies go out to the families and loved ones of both victims. We’re waiting for forensics to confirm the exact nature and timing of Ms Morrell’s death, but at present it doesn’t look like the attack was sexually motivated …’

  Maddy shook her head slowly. Clutched her mid-riff tight. ‘I feel sick. This can’t be happening.’

  ‘I know, it’s bloody awful. I’ll get you some water.’ Maddy kept her gaze on the TV as Paul made for the kitchen.

  ‘… Do you have any leads on the killer’s identity?’ the reporter asked.

  ‘Not at present,’ Carver replied. ‘What I can say for certain is that we are dealing with a very dangerous individual, who killed both victims in cold blood. It is therefore of the utmost importance for anyone who believes they may have seen or heard anything suspicious which may be connected to these shocking murders, to come forward. I’ll be saying more at a formal press conference later today. Thank you.’

  Before the reporter could get another word in, Carver turned away and the footage switched back to the newsreader in the studio.

  Paul returned with a glass of water. Maddy put it to her mouth, but hardly noticed the liquid moisten her lips. She felt numb, her frantic urgency to leave the flat shot down in flames by the ghastly news.

  She wasn’t shy to admit that she and Sarah had never seen eye to eye. From day one at law school, they had clashed, sharing a fair number of heated exchanges. Like Sarah, Maddy was bright, ambitious and beautiful, but that was where any similarity ended. Unlike Sarah, she didn’t flaunt her beauty to get what she wanted or take her ambition to unhealthy extremes. Sarah always had an angle, a hidden agenda. She had to be first, had to be the best, and resented anyone who dared to challenge her.

  And she’d identified Maddy as a threat from their first lecture together in front of James Stirling, the Head of Contract. Consequently, she’d alienated Maddy and most of the other female students with whom she might have bonded.

  Including Paige Summers, another of Maddy’s best friends from law school. A pretty, warm-hearted blonde, who was now a barrister at Inner Temple chambers.

  Only a month into their first year, a rumour had spread that Sarah was sleeping with Stirling. Earning her a reputation for using her looks to get ahead. Still, in fairness to Sarah, Maddy knew she wasn’t the only girl in the year Stirling had taken a fancy to, having been propositioned by him herself. It was common knowledge that he couldn’t keep his dick in his trousers when it came to pretty girls, and she was almost certain he’d slept with at least one other student by the end of her first year. Even now, she wondered how he got away with it. She’d even had her suspicions about Paige but had never worked up the courage to confront her. It was clear from early on that Paige had developed a serious crush on Stirling. From the way her eyes had lingered on him in lectures, the way she’d frequently drop his name into conversations, the way she’d put on extra make-up for his tutorials, yet never bothering for other tutors.

  Stirling hadn’t fooled Maddy. She’d seen right through him and was far too proud to become just another notch on his belt. Still, she understood why girls fell for him. Intelligent, handsome, wealthy; he was the complete package in many ways. Plus, with connections at some notable firms, having practised briefly himself, a good word from him might seal entry into one of them. Cynical as it sounded, Maddy was almost certain this was how Sarah had got the job at Channings.

  Training contracts were like gold dust, and like Paul and countless others, Sarah had arrived at the academy without one. But by some miracle, only a few months into the course, Sarah had secured a position at Channings, causing tongues to wag as to whether spreading her legs for Stirling had paid off for her.

  ‘We never got along, you know that.’ Maddy looked directly at Paul, pushing her raven-black hair away from her face. ‘But I would never in a million years have wished this on her. I mean, I know she was a bit of a bitch, but I can’t imagine who would have wanted her dead. And poor Frank, he was such a sweetheart.’

  ‘I never much liked Sarah either,’ Paul said. ‘Although for me it was less of an issue, you know, being gay. I wasn’t direct competition as far as she was concerned. But like you said, she didn’t deserve this. Was she getting on okay at work?’

  ‘I assume so. Our paths rarely crossed. Even when she did her litigation seat, she sat with a partner and worked almost exclusively for him. All in all, we barely said two words to each other all the time she was there …’

  She didn’t know why she was lying to Paul. There was no reason to lie, particularly to him. But there didn’t seem any point in bringing up her row with Sarah last Friday. She regretted – now she couldn’t make things right – the things she’d said, the hurtful words she’d thrown at her. Accusing her of blind ambition, of using sex as a weapon to get what she wanted. But then again, Sarah had driven her to it. She’d been equally spiteful, insinuating that Maddy had only got the job because she fulfilled the ethnic quota, being from mixed-race parentage. She’d also accused her of being a hypocrite in that she didn’t seem to mind being best friends with Paige despite knowing for a fact that she’d slept with Stirling. It had been late, and Maddy didn’t think anyone had overheard them. But still, what if someone had?

  ‘… I did hear she was rooting for Banking. She was smart and committed. I’m pretty sure she was going to be offered a permanent position.’

  Paul shook his head. ‘What a waste.’ No one spoke. Shock still stalked the air like a heavy fog that wouldn’t shift. ‘So, I guess it’s going to be pretty weird at work for a while?’

  ‘Weird? That’s one word for it, I guess. I think it’s going to be a whole bunch of things. Manic, grim, completely alien. I expect the police will be permanent residents for a while.’

  Maddy inspected her watch. 8.45 am. Ordinarily, she’d have been well and truly screwed by now. But surely no one will be going in today? Pondering this, she realised she still hadn’t checked her messages, too wrapped up in the news to give a second’s thought to anything else. Maybe Coleridge has sent an email. She sprinted across the room and fished out her iPhone from her bag.

  He had. All staff were to work from home until further notice. Client meetings would be held by conference call, and time should still be recorded as usual. Even murder didn’t get in the way of racking up billable hours.

  ‘I’m going to be working from home until the police are done going over our offices.’ Maddy looked up at Paul. ‘I bet Coleridge is pissed. Pissed and stressed as hell.’

  ‘What does he expect? Surely, he can’t expect things to pick up as normal without some interruption. It’s a bloody murder investigation, not some petty burglary.’

  ‘I get your point, but he’s running a business. The responsibilities that come with that are huge. This’ll be a massive dent in our reputation.’

  ‘Why? It’s not like the firm’s messed up, or done anything dodgy.’

  ‘True, but it’s only natural for people to wonder, for clients to wonder, whether it’s an inside job, whether there’s a murderer loose within the walls of their lawyers’ offices. Even if they don’t, they’ll worry about the firm not being up to the job and may decide to take their bu
siness elsewhere.’

  Paul nodded. ‘My father would have thought the same way. But how Coleridge expects any of you to focus on work today, I don’t know. He could at least give you twenty-four hours to process what’s happened.’

  Atticus came up and nuzzled the side of his face against Maddy’s leg. She bent down and stroked the top of his silky soft head, then looked up at Paul. ‘It’s going to be tough. But maybe work’s exactly what we need to take our minds off all this.’

  Paul eyed Maddy as if she was from a different planet. ‘Whatever you say, Mads. But I’m worried for you. Make sure you carry your pepper spray with you everywhere. Don’t walk down any dark alleys, keep to main roads, and always take a black cab. Do you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, Dad,’ she smiled, planting a quick kiss on Paul’s cheek. She glanced back down at her iPhone.

  ‘Coleridge says he hopes the police will be done within a couple of days. After that, we’ll be able to return to the office and carry on as normal.’

  ‘Carry on as normal,’ Paul mocked. ‘They’re like machines, these people. Glad I never got sucked into that world.’ He got up. ‘I’m gonna take a shower. You’ll be okay for a while?’