Postscript to Murder
Lawyer Lennox Kemp’s newly-wed happiness is slowly being eroded by a series of anonymous threats. Is it an aggrieved past client? A criminal he has helped put away?His friend Detective Inspector John Upshire points out that there is a multiplicity of enemies from which to choose. But then a colleague of Kemp’s is murdered and Lennox is convinced that he was the intended victim. Weighed down by guilt, he feels disinclined to investigate the matter further, so it is left to his feisty wife Mary to follow the confusing clues.Is the murder connected to the anonymous threats and sabotage attempts against Kemp? or does it relate to the victim’s own affairs? A mysterious commission in London, an arrogant property dealer, an unbalanced young woman, are only some of the elements of the mystery which Mary must disentangle. But is she on the right path? And will Lennox regain his interest in the affair before another murder is committed?The return of Lennox Kemp, M. R. D. Meek’s popular lawyer sleuth, is an intricate and suspenseful puzzler that will delight his many fans.
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POSTSCRIPT TO MURDER
M. R. D. Meek
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
HarperFiction
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First published in Great Britain in 1996 by Collins Crime
Copyright © M. R. D. Meek 1996
M. R. D. Meek asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780002325790
Ebook Edition © MARCH 2017 ISBN: 9780008252700
Version: 2017-03-28
CONTENTS
‘Someone is trying to kill me’, Lennox Kemp remarked conversationally to Detective Inspector John Upshire.
‘Oh, aye? D’you want the other half?’ Without waiting for an answer, the inspector scooped up both their glasses and ambled over to the bar, using his big shoulders to get through the crowd but without unnecessary impact, easy as an animal in thick undergrowth. Kemp watched him with mingled affection and exasperation, and sighed. The laconic reaction had been much as he’d expected.
‘So, what’s new in that?’ Upshire’s baby-blue eyes were bland as milk. He put the two half-pints down smoothly and settled his bulk into a chair designed for someone of lesser size. ‘You’ve been an unpopular bastard in the past, and there’s probably still folk around would be happy to see you interred.’
‘Thanks, John. How well you put it …’ Kemp took a long drink of the beer which somehow tonight didn’t taste so good. ‘But I meant what I said.’
‘Not threatening letters again?’
‘Those, too … But they’re common enough.’
‘Disgruntled clients? What else do you expect? You know, Lennox, it always surprises me that you lawyers don’t get more of them. Look at it this way … Every time you’ve a court case there’s bound to be a loser. You’ve said so yourself. Even in what you call civil suits – and pretty uncivil some of them are the way I hear it – one party comes out feeling he’s been kicked in the teeth.’
‘That’s just our adversarial legal system,’ said Kemp, doggedly, ‘and they should know all about that before they even get into court. We do warn people if they’ve got a weak case. If they insist on going ahead against our advice it’s no use them foaming at the mouth and vowing vengeance on all lawyers when they lose the battle …’
But Upshire had warmed to his theme, and ignored the comment.
‘Same thing in criminal cases … You get one of my known villains off the hook on a technicality and the men on my patch who’ve sweated their guts out just to bring him up before the bench, they’re mad as hell … They’d like to see you roasted …’
Kemp looked startled. ‘Not to the extent of trying to set my house on fire?’
John Upshire drew the back of his hand across his lips, and gave Kemp a sharp glance. ‘H’m … I think you’d better tell me about it.’
‘Somebody pushed petrol-soaked rags through my letterbox this morning, followed by a lighted match. Luckily I was in the kitchen at the time and saw the flare-up. I stamped out the fire and we only lost the doormat. I did report it, John. Your desk sergeant has the details, and the debris. You weren’t around.’
‘I’ve been up at the Bailey all day helping to put away the Clayton brothers. My God, Lennox, why didn’t you tell me straight off?’
‘I’m telling you now. And it wasn’t the first attempt. My car was rammed out on the London Road on Saturday night. An unidentified van drove into me, reversed smartly and accelerated away leaving me on the edge of a ditch. It was a wet night, and I thought he’d just skidded, didn’t want to face the consequences and got the hell out … Now I’m not so sure. My car’s still in dock, that’s why I walked here tonight.’
‘We’re both walking,’ said Upshire, tersely, ‘and this calls for something stronger. Whisky, eh?’
