Chapter 7
Bee’s solicitor worked from a very small office in a very large office block in Holborn and he looked like neither a solicitor nor someone who would be called Mr Arnott Brown.
He was wearing a T-shirt for a start. It wasn’t exactly a Megadeth T-shirt, or anything – it was just plain and red – but it was still a T-shirt.
(‘I do apologize for my appearance, Miss Wills,’ he’d said when he greeted her at the lift, ‘we’ve just introduced a Dress-Down Friday policy.
I can’t say I’m awfully comfortable with it, myself.
’) And he looked extraordinarily young. The sun streaming through his office window sat on his smooth pink skin and clearly picked out the sparse, almost prepubescent tufts of hair poking from his chin.
He wore a wedding band and on his desk sat photographs of an equally young-looking wife and a pair of photogenic toddlers.
He was very shy and appeared to be having trouble maintaining eye contact with Ana through his spectacles.
‘Yes,’ he was saying, almost in a whisper, ‘your sister kept her financial affairs very much in order. Well, perhaps not your sister, exactly. I’ve always had the feeling that she’d have kept all of her money under her mattress if it had been up to her.
But she had a good accountant and everything is as it should be.
No debts, no tax bills, no overdrafts. Unfortunately she didn’t make a will.
It was something I’d been trying to persuade her to do for a long time, but she thought it was a, aaah, silly idea.
So. All her assets will go to her next of kin who I believe is her, aaah, mother.
’ He looked up from his paperwork and directly into Ana’s eyes until she nodded, and then he looked abruptly away again.
‘Yes,’ said Ana, ‘she is, but she’s agoraphobic, you see, she can’t leave the house, so I’m here on her behalf.’
Ana held her breath.
‘However, Bee appears to have had an expensive lifestyle. Her monthly outgoings were substantial and seem to have eaten into a large chunk of her inheritance. And then’ – he swivelled a large document towards her – ‘she purchased this in, aaah, 1997.’
On top of the document was an estate agent’s particulars – a chocolate-box cottage, painted fondant pink, covered in Albertine roses. ￡125,000.
‘She paid cash for it. It was the only property she ever bought. She preferred to rent …’
Ana stared at the cottage in disbelief. The writing above the picture named the location as Broadstairs, Kent.
‘ … I think it may have been purchased on a whim, to be frank. As far as I’m aware she never visited it.
Shame – it’s awfully pretty, don’t you think?
’ He turned it towards himself to appraise it, and Ana could almost see what was in his head: the image of him, his young wife and their two children enjoying lovely weekends away together at the seaside.
‘Can I keep this?’ she asked, staring in wonder at the particulars of the cottage.
‘Well, I, aah, I don’t see why not. I have no need of it.
’ He slid it across the desk towards her and she slipped it into her bag.
‘So,’ he said, ‘all in all, including the cottage, your sister’s estate has a net value of around ￡148,000.
Plus, there are still some active royalty accounts which bring in another ￡1,000-2,000 per annum.
Also, there was one other, slightly smaller matter.
Your sister had a cat. He was called, aaah, John, I believe. ’
Ana sat up straight.
‘She was unable to keep him in her new flat, due to the tenancy agreement. In fact, that was the last time I spoke to her – her landlord was threatening to evict her if she didn’t rehouse her cat, and she wanted my advice.
And I’m afraid that the only advice I could reasonably give her was that the cat would have to go.
So she took him to her friend. A Miss Tate.
I have her address if you’d like to contact her.
She acted as Bee’s witness on a number of occasions, you see …
’ He flipped through a pile of papers and transcribed an address from the file on to a piece of paper and handed it to Ana.
‘You may want to contact Miss Tate to find out how she’d like the matter to be dealt with.
As far as she was aware it was only going to be a temporary measure – just until Bee found herself a new flat.
’ He wiped away some sweat from his brow.
The small room was unairconditioned and disgustingly hot.
‘So the flat in Bickenhall Street was just short term?’
Mr Arnott Brown nodded. ‘Yes, very much so. I know she had been looking at alternative properties to rent in the weeks before the, aah, incident.’
‘When was the last time you saw Bee, Mr Arnott Brown?’
He pulled off his glasses and absent-mindedly wiped the lenses with a soft cloth.
‘Well, aaah, I saw her very rarely, very rarely. Let’s see.
Hmmm – the last time I saw her was …’ he consulted his desk diary, leafing clumsily through the pages with sweaty fingers ‘ … there. Yes. It was in January. Just after she moved into the new flat. She lodged some paperwork with me. Tenancy agreements and such.’
‘And how did she seem?’
‘Seem? Well, aaah, like she always seemed, I suppose. You know …’
‘No. I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since I was thirteen.’
‘Oh. Oh, I see. That’s, aaah, that’s, hmmmm. Well – Bee was always very exotically dressed. Very theatrical, you might say. And somewhat – mercurial.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘One could never quite predict what sort of mood she might be in. Some days she was exuberant and other days she would be rather withdrawn – easily distracted. And she would always insist on smoking in here, although it’s absolutely forbidden, you know, and awfully dangerous.
My wife always knew when I’d had a meeting with Bee because I’d return home reeking like an old ashtray.
’ He did a strange, snorty thing, into his fist. ‘She was very open, which could prove somewhat disconcerting. She would think nothing, for example, of using very, aaah, strong language and asking somewhat – personal – questions.’
‘But that day. In January. The last time you saw her. How was she then? How was her mood?’
‘I’m afraid, Miss Wills, that I really do not recollect. But if you’re asking me if she appeared to be on the brink of, aaah, taking her own life, then I would have to say, no. Most definitely not.’
A nasal voice on Mr Arnott Brown’s intercom informed him that his next client had arrived.
He smiled apologetically at Ana. ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to call it a day now, Miss Wills.
I’ll get all this paperwork to your mother’s solicitor.
If you could just sign these release papers, to authorize everything.
Here. And – here. Super. Thank you.’ He unfurled himself from his desk and saw Ana to the door.
He grasped her hand in his and shook it warmly.
‘And may I just take this opportunity to say, Miss Wills, how terribly, terribly sorry I was to learn of Bee’s death.
She was a very unusual character, but I have to confess to having been awfully fond of her.
She had a way of making one feel very, aaah, special. Do you know what I mean?’
Ana nodded, shook his hand again and left his office, thinking sadly to herself that, no, actually, she had no idea what he meant as she’d barely known her and how much she was starting to wish that she had.