A Prisoner of Birth Read online

  After the coffin had been lowered into the grave and the final rites administered, the Moncrieff clan departed, without a single member offering their condolences to the deceased’s son and heir. One or two of the locals whose livelihoods did not depend on his uncle Hugo walked across and shook hands with Nick, while the senior officer representing the regiment stood to attention and saluted. Nick raised his hat in acknowledgement.

  As he turned to leave the graveside, Nick saw Fraser Munro talking to Jenkins and Pascoe. Munro came across to him. ‘They’ve agreed that you can spend an hour with me to discuss family matters, but they’ll not allow you to accompany me back to the office in my car.’

  ‘I understand.’ Nick thanked the chaplain and then climbed into the back of the police car. A moment later Pascoe and Jenkins took their places on either side of him.

  As the car moved off, Nick looked out of the window to see the large man lighting a cigar.

  ‘Hunsacker,’ said Nick out loud. ‘Gene Hunsacker.’

  ‘Why did you want to see me?’ demanded Craig.

  ‘I’ve run out of gear,’ said Leach.

  ‘But I supplied you with enough to last six months.’

  ‘Not after a bent screw’s taken his cut.’

  ‘Then you’d better visit the library.’

  ‘Why would I go to the library, Mr Craig?’

  ‘Take out the latest copy of the Law Review, the leather-bound edition, and you’ll find everything you need taped to the inside of the spine.’ Craig closed his briefcase, stood up and headed towards the door.

  ‘It won’t be a moment too soon,’ said Leach, not moving from his seat.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Craig as he touched the door handle.

  ‘Aunt Maisie’s friend has signed up for a detox programme.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to wean him off it, won’t you.’

  ‘That may not solve your problem,’ said Leach calmly.

  Craig walked slowly back to the table, but didn’t sit down. ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘A little bird tells me that Aunt Maisie’s friend has started singing like a canary.’

  ‘Then shut him up,’ spat out Craig.

  ‘It may be too late for that.’

  ‘Stop playing games, Leach, and tell me what you’re getting at.’

  ‘I’m told there’s a tape.’

  Craig collapsed into the chair and stared across the table. ‘And what’s on this tape?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘A full confession . . . with names, dates and places.’ Leach paused, aware that he now had Craig’s undivided attention. ‘It was when I was told the names that I felt I ought to consult my lawyer.’

  Craig didn’t speak for some time. ‘Do you think you can get your hands on the tape?’ he eventually asked.

  ‘At a cost.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Ten grand.’

  ‘That’s a bit steep.’

  ‘Bent screws don’t come cheap,’ said Leach. ‘In any case, I bet Aunt Maisie doesn’t have a plan B, so she hasn’t got much choice.’

  Craig nodded. ‘All right. But there’s a time limit. If it’s not in my possession before May thirty-first, you won’t get paid.’

  ‘No prizes for guessing whose appeal will be coming up that day,’ said Leach with a smirk.

  ‘Your father made a will, which this firm executed,’ said Munro, tapping his fingers on the desk. ‘It was witnessed by a Justice of the Peace, and I have to advise you that however you feel about its contents, you would be unwise to dispute it.’

  ‘It would not have crossed my mind to oppose my father’s wishes,’ said Nick.

  ‘I think that is a sensible decision, Sir Nicholas, if I may say so. However, you are entitled to know the details of the will. As time is against us, allow me to paraphrase.’ He coughed. ‘The bulk of your father’s estate has been left to his brother, Mr Hugo Moncrieff, with smaller gifts and annuities to be distributed among other members of the family, the regiment and some local charities. He has left nothing to you except the title, which of course was not his to dispose of.’

  ‘Be assured, Mr Munro, this does not come as a surprise.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear that, Sir Nicholas. However, your grandfather, a shrewd and practical man, who incidentally my father had the privilege of representing, made certain provisions in his will of which you are now the sole beneficiary. Your father made an application to have that will rescinded, but the courts rejected his claim.’

  Munro smiled as he rummaged around among the papers on his desk until he found what he wanted. He held it up in triumph and declared, ‘Your grandfather’s will. I will only acquaint you with the relevant clause.’ He turned over several pages. ‘Ah, here’s what I’m looking for.’ He placed a pair of half-moon spectacles on the end of his nose and read slowly. ‘I leave my estate in Scotland, known as Dunbroathy Hall, as well as my London residence in The Boltons, to my grandson Nicholas Alexander Moncrieff, presently serving with his regiment in Kosovo. However, my son Angus will be allowed full and free use of both of these properties until his demise, when they will come into the possession of the aforementioned grandson.’ Munro placed the will back on his desk. ‘In normal circumstances,’ he said, ‘this would have guaranteed you a vast inheritance, but unfortunately I have to inform you that your father took advantage of the words full and free use, and borrowed heavily against both properties up until a few months before his death.

  ‘In the case of the Dunbroathy estate, he secured a sum of – ’ once again Munro put on his half-moon spectacles in order that he could check the figure – ‘one million pounds, and for The Boltons, a little over a million. In accordance with your father’s will, once probate has been agreed, that money will pass directly to your uncle Hugo.’

  ‘So despite my grandfather’s best intentions,’ said Nick, ‘I’ve still ended up with nothing.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Munro, ‘because I believe you have a legitimate case against your uncle to retrieve the money he procured by this little subterfuge.’

  ‘Nevertheless, if those were my father’s wishes, I will not go against them,’ said Nick.

  ‘I think you should reconsider your position, Sir Nicholas,’ said Munro, once again tapping his fingers on the desk. ‘After all, a large sum of money is at stake and I’m confident—’

  ‘You may well be right, Mr Munro, but I will not call my father’s judgement into question.’

  Munro removed his glasses and reluctantly said, ‘So be it. I also have to report,’ he continued, ‘that I have been in correspondence with your uncle, Hugo Moncrieff, who is well aware of your present circumstances, and has offered to take both properties off your hands, and with them the responsibility for both mortgages. He has also agreed to cover any expenses, including legal costs, associated with the transactions.’

  ‘Do you represent my uncle Hugo?’ Nick asked.

  ‘No, I do not,’ said Munro firmly. ‘I advised your father against taking out a mortgage on either of the two properties. In fact, I told him that I considered it to be against the spirit of the law, if not the letter, to conduct such transactions without your prior knowledge or approval.’ Munro coughed. ‘He did not heed my advice, and indeed decided to take his custom elsewhere.’

  ‘In that case, Mr Munro, may I enquire if you would be willing to represent me?’

  ‘I am flattered that you should ask, Sir Nicholas, and let me assure you that this firm would be proud to continue its long association with the Moncrieff family.’

  ‘Remembering all my circumstances, Mr Munro, how would you advise me to proceed?’

  Munro gave a slight bow. ‘Anticipating the possibility that you might seek my counsel, I have on your behalf set in motion a train of enquiries.’ Nick smiled as the glasses returned to the nose of the ageing advocate. ‘I am advised that the price of a house in The Boltons is currently around three million pounds, and my brother, who is a local councillo