Findo Gask - Goblin Detective, Part 47: Novel by Trevor Hopkins

Her eyes widened at the thought of the embarrassment of having to sit through the families passing by and no doubt making snide comments to each other.

"I'll have a word with the Judge when they've gone," I told her, standing up and offering her a hand - still practicing to be a gentleman despite my better judgement, "I'll call to see you this evening."

"Okay," she said, then added as an afterthought, "I'll be at the Club. I've got an evening shift."

She stuffed the sodden tissue into her bag and stood up abruptly. She hurried off down the hall, her stiletto heels clicking furiously on the polished marble tiles. I watched her to the stairs. I dragged the packet of cigarettes from my pocket - already crumpled - and lit one, blowing a smoke-ring before dropping the spent match in the smoking stand that stood nearby. There was an empty matchbook in the ashtray, from the Starfield Club. Probably just a coincidence, I thought.

The Probate Court session broke up soon afterwards. Alva Vale left first, still with her grieving widow act tuned to maximum effect, and flanked by her father and brother. Millearme left alone, in a hurry - no doubt already late for another appointment, or at least he wanted people to think so. The Vale family followed, the maiden aunts twittering and Merton's parents, clearly still in shock and despair at the loss of their only son, ignoring them completely. Logan brought up the rear, looking pre-occupied.

None of them acknowledged me as they passed. I was a non-person, I had nothing of value for any of them. Merton Vale was dead, his funeral held, his goods and chattels disposed of. All legal and above board, everything to the satisfaction of the staus quo.

Except that a crime had been committed - at least one. Merton Vale had been murdered - although the police chose to ignore it - and his posthumous wishes had been violated. And the only person who seemed to care about the dead Accountant was a floozy, a nightclub hostess who enjoyed the energetic attentions and evident largess of several gentleman callers, all of whom were probably old enough to be her father. And who was still my client.

I waited a few minutes until the slow-moving procession was out of sight and hearing, and very probably out of the building. I put out my cigarette and retraced my steps to Judge Kirkton's chambers. I knocked on the polished wood of the door. The clerk who had been startled by the glamour opened the door a fraction.

"Could I have a word with the Judge, if that's possible?" I asked in my most deferential tone.

Before the clerk could answer, the voice of Judge Kirkton came from within.

"Who is it?"

"Findo Gask, sir."

"Ah. Show him in, would you?"

The clerk opened the door wide. I walked around the huge table to where the Judge still sat.

"Take a seat, Mister Gask," he said, "And tell me what's really going on here."

"I've only my suspicions, sir," I replied.

"I'm sure you do. Any chance of finding out any facts?"

"Possibly, sir. I do have a client, and one with an interest in the matter."

"Indeed. Far be it from me to ask who she is."

I did my best poker face impersonation. I don't think he was fooled.

"I assume you believe there was something important in there," the Judge went on, indicating the open briefcase that still stood on the table nearby, "A more recent will, a codicil not drawn up by his usual firm of lawyers."

I nodded. "Merton Vale was being blackmailed, and I believe he was murdered. There may have been other papers in that case."

"And this supposed later Will might have been stolen by accident," The Judge interrupted, "You know I can't do anything. Without proof, there's nothing I can change."

"I guessed that, sir," I said, smiling slightly, "But you might let me take the briefcase away."

"Looking for a Clue?" The Judge snorted, "Well, good luck to you."

"Thank you, sir," I replied, "But I think I may be able to do better than that."

Part 46

Part 48