Back-Slash by Bill Kitson Read Free Book Online Page B

‘I thought we’d a press liaison officer?’
    Ruth made a sneezing gesture as she left the room.
    Nash smiled as he reached to answer his phone.
    ‘Nash, Ramirez here. Did you think I’d miss you so much, you arranged for me to have a corpse or two ready for my return?’
    Nash grinned at the pathologist’s sarcasm. ‘I don’t want you to lose your touch for lack of practice,’ he agreed gravely.
    Ramirez snorted. ‘Little chance of that with you around. Anyway, I can’t spend all day gossiping. For all I know you could have arranged the slaughter of a football team. Or a rugby team,’ he added caustically. ‘I want to get on with the post-mortems ; can you send someone through?’
    ‘Certainly, Professor, I’ll send DC Andrews across. She should be there in about half an hour.’
    Later that afternoon when Lisa returned, she relayed a message from the pathologist. ‘He said to tell you there’s something you should know. At first glance he assumed they’d been killed by that well known cliché, the left-handed killer. Thewounds are deeper on one side than the other, that’s how you can tell. But he’s not convinced that’s the case. He said don’t rule anyone out because they’re not left-handed. As for the rest, you’ll have to wait for his report.’

    Close to Leeds city centre there are a number of squares of Victorian terrace houses, once the domain of the managerial classes involved principally in textiles and engineering, two of the driving forces in the city’s rise to prominence. These dwellings had long been converted to office suites, and it was here that some of the smaller professional firms based their operations . Carnforth & Lancaster, Solicitors and Commissioners for Oaths, was one such organization. Nowhere in Leeds were old-fashioned values more rigidly observed. As one of the newer generation of lawyers remarked, ‘You expect the clerks to be sitting at roll-top desks scratching away with quill pens. You want to ask to speak to Bob Cratchit.’
    Albert Carnforth, senior partner in the practice, started work prompt at 9 a.m. every morning. His first twenty minutes in the office would be spent reading the
Yorkshire Post
, the
only
newspaper as far as Carnforth was concerned. One of the pages he scrutinized carefully was the obituaries section. Contrary to rumour circulating amongst some of the more flippant members of staff, Carnforth wasn’t checking to see whether he was listed there. Tuesday morning was no exception, until the intercom buzzed. ‘Miss Burns?’
    ‘Yes, Mr Carnforth?’
    ‘Would you come into my office and bring your keys?’
    Hilary Burns didn’t hurry. Hurry wasn’t something they did at C & L. When she entered the office, Carnforth was waiting by the document safe, keys in hand. On his desk lay the morning paper, the headline declaring ‘Prominent Leeds Solicitor Slain’. Together they put their keys into the twin locks of the massive door and turned them. Carnforth opened the door and removed a slim envelope.
    The envelope had been signed and sealed. Carnforth took it across to his desk. ‘I was entrusted with this quite recently andgiven instructions not to open it except in certain circumstances. It would appear that time has arrived sooner than anticipated.’ He slit the envelope with his paper knife and removed a sheet of A4 paper, which he read before up-turning the envelope. A single key fell on to his blotter. ‘It appears we have to remove the contents from a safety deposit box at the bank and dispatch them to a chosen recipient. This is the key. I’ll attend to the matter this afternoon. Thank you, Miss Burns.’
    He watched as Miss Burns walked back to her own office. He admired the long graceful shape of her legs, the rhythmical sway of her hips, as he’d been admiring them for the last twenty-five years. Fortunately, for both his peace of mind and hers, she was completely unaware of his admiration.
    Later, Carnforth examined the