The Ancient Craft

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

‘What do you think?’ Matthew asked.

Their client had departed in a taxi five minutes earlier, and both solicitors were now in Lena’s office with the door closed and all veneer of formality gone. All entreaties to Matthew about smartening up his office had fallen on deaf ears, so their meetings were always held in Lena’s small but perfectly tidy room. Matthew threw his coat over a spare chair, and leaned back in his chair with his feet on Lena’s desk.

‘Quite comfortable, are we?’ Lena asked.

‘Yes, thanks. Kind of you to ask.’

Lena gave a soft chuckle.

‘I’m not sure what to say about our client. She is certainly as clever as she is beautiful, but her explanation about instructing us seems pretty thin.’

‘You doubt that my fame has spread?’

‘I do know that Brooks didn’t call her in for tea and biscuits. She thinks that an arrest is imminent, and she’s probably right. Her phone call to you wasn’t a result of panic, but quite calculated. She chose us for a reason, but I can’t put my finger on it just now. What about you?’

Matthew steepled his fingers in a reflective gesture.

‘Not sure. For someone facing a sensational murder trial, she’s very measured in her demeanour.’

‘A cold fish you mean?’

‘Or a stonefish perhaps.’

‘Now, that’s no way to speak of a valued client.’ The crinkle of amusement shown in her face diluted Lena’s admonishment.

‘Poison is of course the weapon of choice for an unhappy wife.’ Matthew replied poker-faced. ‘And we’ve moved past the days of arsenic and rat-killer. There are so many exotic chemicals these days that they’re spoilt for choice. A sterling example of women’s liberation in action.’

‘Matthew, Matthew,’ Lena replied with a shake of her head. ‘So cynical. Where’s that romantic lad that I used to know?’

‘My spirit has been broken. My love life is dead and buried.’

‘What about that pretty young thing that you were telling me about? The one from that big city law firm.’

‘Ah, well. I made a slight mistake there. A difference of taste you might say.’

‘What happened?’

‘You remember I told you I was taking her out to see a show?’

‘Sounds good so far.’

‘Turns out, Mozart was not to her taste. She said that she was hoping we were going to see some pop band. I hadn’t forewarned her, and it turned out to be a big letdown.’

‘She didn’t like Wolfie?’ Lena replied, shaking her head in amazement.

‘Too many songs, she said. Also, too much talking, too many singers, and all in Italian.’

‘She didn’t follow the surtitles?’

‘She didn’t bring her glasses. Said she didn’t know it was going to be some sort of reading test.’

‘Ouch.’

‘Not a happy night I’m afraid.’

‘Sad. Very sad, Matthew. I’ll have to see what I can arrange for you. Don’t forget, there’s plenty more fish in the sea.’

‘Yeah. I’m just not sure I have the right tackle.’