The spell was broken, and Giles was quickly reminded why he didn’t miss her.
‘Shall we get the business out of the way,’ she continued, opening her handbag and extracting an envelope. ‘I’ll give you what you came for, but not before you hand over my cheque.’
‘I need to see the document before I’m willing to part with any money.’
‘You’re just going to have to trust me, my darling.’ Giles stifled a smile. ‘Because if I let you read it, you may feel you no longer need to pay me.’
Giles couldn’t fault her logic. ‘Perhaps we can agree on a compromise,’ he suggested. ‘You turn to the last page of the document and show me Mellor’s signature and the date, and I’ll show you the cheque.’
Virginia thought for a moment before she said, ‘First I want to see the money.’
Giles produced a cheque for ￡15,000 from an inside pocket and held it up for her to see.
‘You haven’t signed it.’
‘I will, as soon as I see Mellor’s signature.’
Virginia slowly unsealed the envelope, extracted a thin legal document and turned to the third page. Giles leant forward and studied Mellor’s signature, which had been witnessed by a Mr Colin Graves, senior prison officer, and dated May 12th, 1981.
He placed the cheque on the table, signed it and passed it across to Virginia. She hesitated for a moment, then smiled mischievously before slipping the document back into the envelope and handing it to Giles. He placed it in his briefcase, before saying casually, ‘If you only got the copy, who has the original?’
‘That will cost you another five thousand.’
Giles wrote out a second cheque and handed it across.
‘But it’s only for one thousand,’ Virginia protested.
‘That’s because I think I already know who it is. The only mystery is how he got his hands on it.’
‘Tell me the name, and if you’re wrong, I’ll tear up this cheque and you can write out another one for five thousand.’
‘Jim Knowles collected it from Carter on behalf of Conrad Sorkin.’
The second cheque joined the first in Virginia’s handbag, and although Giles pressed her, it was clear she wasn’t going to let him know how Sorkin had got his hands on the original, not least because, like him, she suspected that Desmond hadn’t committed suicide, and she didn’t want to become involved.
‘Tea?’ suggested Giles, hoping she would decline so he could get back to the bank where the other three were waiting for him.
‘What a nice idea,’ said Virginia. ‘Quite like old times.’
Giles hailed a waiter and ordered tea for two, but no cakes. He was wondering what they could possibly talk about, until Virginia solved that problem. ‘I think I’ve got something else you might want,’ she said, displaying the same mischievous smile.
Giles hadn’t been prepared for this. He sat back, trying to appear relaxed, as he waited to find out if Virginia was just enjoying herself at his expense, or if she really did have something worthwhile to offer.
The waiter reappeared and placed a pot of tea and a selection of wafer-thin sandwiches in the centre of the table.
Virginia picked up the teapot. ‘Shall I be Mother? Milk and no sugar, if I remember correctly.’
‘Thank you,’ said Giles.
She poured them both a cup of tea. Giles waited impatiently while she added a splash of milk and two sugar lumps before she spoke again.
‘Such a pity the coroner concluded that poor Desmond died intestate.’ She took a sip of her tea. ‘Earl Grey,’ she remarked, before adding, ‘It’s going to be difficult for anyone to prove otherwise before June twelfth, when the company will fall so conveniently into that nice Mr Sorkin’s hands, and for a mere ten thousand pounds he’ll be entitled to fifty-one per cent of Mellor Travel, which I estimate to be worth at least a million and a half, possibly more.’
‘The board of Farthings has already considered that problem,’ said Giles, ‘and the question of who might be judged by the court to be Mellor’s next of kin. Arnold Hardcastle concluded that with two ex-wives, one daughter he’s lost touch with and two stepchildren, the legal battle alone could take years to be resolved.’
‘I agree,’ said Virginia, taking another sip of tea. ‘Unless, of course, someone came across a will.’
Giles stared at her in disbelief as she returned to her handbag and extracted a slim manila envelope, which she held up for Giles to see. He studied the neat copperplate handwriting that proclaimed, The last will and testament of Desmond Mellor, dated May 12th, 1981.
‘How much?’ asked Giles.
19