The Long Call (Two Rivers #1) - Ann Cleeves Page 0,90

a charitable donation.’

‘Do you know where he thought he might leave his money?’

‘To the Woodyard centre. I looked it up. It’s run by a charitable trust. You’re quite right, if he didn’t have huge assets, it would have made more sense for him to consult a firm of local solicitors. I did suggest that and thought he’d taken my advice, because I didn’t hear from him for a while. Then he called back and asked if he could come to see me. He was insistent and told me it was urgent. He said that he was having second thoughts about the will. And that there was another, related matter that he thought I could help with.’ Cramer looked up and smiled. ‘I explained our fee structure, thinking that might put him off. We do tend to charge a bit above the going rate. I suppose at that stage I had him down as a bit of a fantasist. North Devon seems to attract the weirdos, don’t you think? Present company excluded of course.’

‘What kind of fantasist?’

‘There was nothing specific, but I sensed a paranoia. He came across as the sort who might be into odd conspiracy theories.’ Cramer looked up sharply. ‘But just because one’s paranoid it doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. Isn’t that the saying, Inspector? It seems that I misjudged the man. Because somebody was certainly out to get him. And they clearly succeeded.’

There was a moment of silence. The image Matthew had created of Simon Walden seemed even more insubstantial, slippery, shifting with every conversation about him. ‘There’s nothing else you can tell me about your conversation? Nothing that might help me to understand why he was so anxious to see you? What had made him paranoid? Any detail would be useful.’

‘I’m sorry, Inspector. Nothing about the conversation. I was rather irritated that he’d demanded to speak directly to me without making the appointment through my secretary. It seemed that the paranoia had spread to his being reluctant to speak frankly on the telephone. Or perhaps Mr Walden was phoning in a place where he might be overheard or interrupted. There was some background noise.’

‘What kind of background noise?’

Cramer shook his head, an indication of frustration. He would like to have helped. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector. A murmur of voices. He could have been in the street or in a room. Beyond that, I couldn’t tell.’

Matthew was about to let the man go, to thank him for his time and let him get back to his friends in the golf club, to catch up with them for gin and professional gossip, when Cramer put an envelope on the table. He had a sly grin, as if he was hoping to astonish and please.

‘There is this, though. It arrived at the office on Tuesday morning.’

The day after Walden’s body was found on the beach at Crow Point. He must have posted it on the morning of his death.

It had already been opened. Inside was a handwritten note and a building society cheque for £200,000 made payable to the solicitors’ business name, Sandford and Marsh. The note read:

Please keep this safe for me. I’ll explain when I see you.

‘It’s been a busy week,’ Cramer said. ‘I didn’t get around to asking my secretary to put it into the clients’ account. You do understand why I found Walden rather an unusual chap? Usually we have to fight to get money from our customers. They don’t send us large cheques in the post.’

Matthew looked again at the cheque. It had been made out by the Devonshire Building Society.

* * *

When Cramer had left, Matthew sat for a moment at his desk. It was clear that Walden had experienced some sort of crisis in the weeks leading up to his death. Something that had led him to take the bus to Lovacott with Lucy Braddick and go back to Cramer to firm up an appointment. And to send a large cheque to the lawyer. Matthew wondered what might have triggered the strange behaviour. Was it possible that Walden could have experienced some kind of psychotic episode as the lawyer had implied? But the women in the Ilfracombe house hadn’t mentioned that Walden had been less stable or rational in that time and Caroline was a professional. She would certainly have picked up on anything unusual or dangerous.

There was a knock on the office door and Ross came in. He started speaking before he’d got into the room, eager, it seemed,