A Rush of Blood

Sixty-six

‘Ms Wisniewski,’ said Sauce Haddock, ‘we appreciate that you’re still in a state of shock, but we have a job to do.’ As he looked at the woman, he remembered his imperious reception on his first visit to the firm of Grey Green, only a few days before, and noted the contrast. Gladys Wisniewski gave the impression of someone who was standing on a rug without being certain whether there were floorboards under it. Bereft of Ken Green’s presence, his room seemed much larger, and his secretary that much smaller.

‘But I don’t have the authority,’ she blustered. ‘I can’t just let you walk in here.’

‘We’ve got the authority ourselves,’ Jack McGurk told her, holding up the sheet of paper that he had shown to the grim-faced receptionist a few minutes before, ‘in the form of this warrant from the sheriff, which allows us to search these premises, unless you voluntarily supply us with the items we require. So, with Mr Green gone, who’s the senior partner? Would that be Mr Grey?’

‘There is no Mr Grey,’ she murmured.

‘Don’t prevaricate, please,’ the sergeant snapped. ‘If it’s Miss or Mrs, where is she?’

‘No, you don’t understand. There are no partners in the firm. Mr Green was a sole practitioner. We do have legal staff, but they’re all employees, mostly doing court work.’

‘Fresh out of university?’ Haddock speculated. ‘On minimum salaries to maximise the firm’s profit from its legal aid clients?’

Mrs Wisniewski nodded. ‘You get the picture,’ she acknowledged, as she began to recover both her poise and her accent of the previous week. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s common practice across Scotland. This firm provides valuable training for young lawyers. Quite a few of the people who started with us are advocates now. A couple of them will be QCs quite soon.’

‘Save us the PR speak, please, lady,’ McGurk sighed. ‘We’re not here to question Ken Green’s scruples or his business practices. If they were OK with the Law Society, they’re OK with us. What we need to talk about is his relationship with the late Tomas Zaliukas, and with a company that he set up for him called Lituania SAFI, registered in Uruguay. Are you familiar with all that?’

‘I’ve met Mr Zaliukas,’ she admitted. ‘And I’ve heard the name of that company before.’

‘So who were its principals?’

‘Mr Zaliukas was.’

‘We know that, but under Uruguayan law, an offshore company has to have at least two shareholders. So there must have been someone else involved in the transaction. I’m wondering, could it have been Mr Green himself?’

‘No,’ she replied firmly. ‘That would have been against the Law Society rules, and Mr Green was a stickler for those. Why don’t you ask the Uruguayan Embassy?’

‘We have done. Their law allows SAFI shareholders and directors to keep their names secret, so they aren’t about to help us. We need you to tell us.’

‘But that would break client confidentiality.’

‘That’s not what the sheriff thought when she signed this warrant. So, will you please bring us all the firm’s files relating to Mr Zaliukas, and to the company.’

‘I can’t.’

McGurk drew a deep breath and seemed to grow even taller as he towered over the woman. ‘Ms Wisniewski,’ he threatened, holding up the first two fingers of his right hand, and stopping just short of pressing them together, ‘you are that close to being charged with obstructing us. Do yourself a favour and get those records, now, or we will take this place apart until we find them.’

‘I tell you I can’t,’ she shouted. ‘They’re not here.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m trying to tell you that Mr Green didn’t keep them here. Some files, the Lituania SAFI papers among them, weren’t stored here. None of the meetings relating to those parts of the business took place here either.’

‘Hold on,’ said Haddock. ‘If this is a one-man firm, why would it have a second office?’

‘It doesn’t, not as such. As far as I know, Mr Green used his cottage in East Lothian for that purpose. That’s where he met those clients and that’s where their files were kept.’

‘What would the Law Society think of that?’ asked McGurk, drily.

‘There’s nothing to prevent a lawyer from working at home,’ the secretary retorted.

‘How will we get access to the cottage?’

‘With another warrant, if I had any say in the matter.’

‘Which clearly you don’t. So who does? Who’s Mr Green’s heir?’

‘He has a son from his first marriage, Kenny junior; he inherits everything. I know, because I witnessed the will. He’s only fifteen, so his mother is the executor. She’s remarried and her name is Marianne McKean now. She lives in Uphall, but I doubt if you’ll find her there just now; she works at Curle Anthony and Jarvis, as a partner’s secretary.’

‘We’ll head up there,’ said McGurk to Haddock, ‘just as soon as we’ve searched the premises.’

‘What do you mean?’ Gladys Wisniewski screeched indignantly. ‘I’ve told you there’s nothing here.’

‘Yes, you have, ma’am,’ the sergeant replied, coolly, ‘but in the circumstances, I’m afraid we can’t take your word for it.’