Perception Of Death - Hardcover

Anderson, Louis

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0091799740 ISBN 13: 9780091799748

Verlag: Hutchinson, 2004

Inhaltsangabe

'There are some things in life better not known - some things that should be left where they rest...' Erin Paterson runs her grandfather's law firm in Glasgow, and is an uncompromisingly aggressive negotiator. But the success of her practice is not echoed in her personal life. Erin's father has had a stroke. She can't stand her mother. Her sister's a flake and their brother, Leland, committed suicide. She's not doing too well with her boyfriend either, whom she discovers in flagrante the day that an old-school friend, Lucy Grant, is murdered. From this moment, events unravel to test Erin's resolve to the maximum. Can she hold onto her job, even onto her life, when the past slithers out of the darkness to expose a secret in the family that no one dares confront?

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Louise Anderson was born in 1966. She was brought up in Glasgow, gaining an MA from Glasgow University in 1988. The same year she moved to the USA with her husband. They returned to Glasgow in 1991, where she works in accounts and marketing. She has two school-aged children, one dog and two cats.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

ONE

It was a glorious morning and I enjoyed the brisk ten-minute walk to the office. The crisp sunshine and icing-sugar frost made me feel I could be anywhere. It was one of my secret pleasures, pretending I was walking the streets of Boston or New York. A feeling helped along by the newly arrived Starbucks coffee shops.

I only brought my car to the office if it was particularly foul outside. I had a designated parking space but driving through the city centre was torture. In their wisdom, the city fathers had littered the streets with bus lanes and cycle paths.That might have worked in a European metropolis with a functioning public transport system and slightly more clement weather, but in Glasgow it made the same amount of traffic move even more slowly.

During the previous weeks I had arrived at work later and later. My boyfriend was the cause of my tardiness, which made me furious and pathetic in equal measures. I had been forced to hang back until he looked like he was actually going to set off for work before I could leave.

He had the education, background and good looks required, but severely lacked professional motivation. Bluntly, I had discovered him to be a lazy bastard.

During the initial months when I naively believed he had potential, I had arranged for him to work for one of my many contacts as a recruitment consultant. He wasn't actually trained as a recruitment consultant but, as far as I could tell, there didn't seem much training necessary. You interviewed prospective employees for prospective employers. How hard could that be?

Alex had seemed to settle down but recent reports of fourhour lunches, days off and general piss-taking had been filtering through to me. I was tired of him. The sheen had rubbed off to reveal a very dull interior. And I suspected the feeling was mutual.

I had worked in my grandfather's law firm since graduating but still felt a small surge of pride as I swept up the stone steps, past the gracious Georgian pillars and into the marble reception of The Paterson Building. It was built in 1875 for my great, great grandfather, one of the original Glasgow tobacco lords, and now housed Paterson, Paterson & Co., Solicitors.

William, the concierge, opened the door and greeted me. I returned the greeting as he called the lift. He had worked for us for forty years and knew better than to involve me in small talk. I was busy in those precious moments ticking off mental lists and formulating strategy. It was not an awkward silence - well, certainly not for me, it was reassuring in its ritualised repetition.

My office, which had been my father's before me, was on the top floor beside the boardroom.The lift opened directly on to an open-plan area for the assistants and secretaries. It was already buzzing.

I acknowledged my staff and went straight to my office. Friday was a strange day. The start of a new business day but the end of a business week. The two didn't sit well together; the feeling of wrapping up for the weekend but still the promise of a rewarding day. I knew I was alone in believing that just as much work could be achieved on a Friday as any other day.

I had rather a busy handbag and realised it was due for a clearout when I couldn't find my hairbrush. I liked to be immaculate and was forced to empty the contents into my out-tray.
Naturally, the hairbrush was at the bottom, under my Psion, my wallet, make-up bag, keys for my apartment, keys for my parents' home, keys for my car, keys for the office, and my mobile phone.
After I smartened up I went to the office kitchen to get a cup of coffee. I didn't believe in omens or any of that nonsense, but the window in the kitchen sprung open suddenly and gave me a fright. I splashed boiling coffee on my hand and scalded myself.

As I ran cold water over the burn, my expression set for the day. A grim no-nonsense face that my colleagues had learned to cross at their peril.

I sat back at my desk with my coffee and was shifting through the dross from my handbag when Michael McCabe knocked on my open door.

'Morning, Erin.' He entered my territory and tried to look friendly.

'Morning, Michael.' I did the same but with conspicuously less effort.

'Did you get a chance to finalise the details of the Murphy versus Broadwood settlement last night?'

'It's all in my briefcase.'

'And we're going to go for five hundred thousand?'

I shifted in my seat. Since when was Michael so interested in my cases?

'I believe so.'

'Good, good. They're due at ten.'

'I know.' Of course, I knew. I had arranged the meeting. Michael hovered for a moment more, so I arched an eyebrow.

'Is there something I can help you with?'

'No. No. Good luck.' Michael said with jovial insincerity and left.

Luck had nothing to do with it. I was a good lawyer. Damn good. I did my homework. Michael was acting strangely, but then again around me he was always odd.We tended to keep out of each other's way - as much as two senior partners could who were once lovers. What had once been mutual admiration and romantic interest had curdled to distrust and dislike. He was an ass but he was also a fine lawyer, and, although it would have suited me, I didn't want him to move on. But I did wonder about his sudden interest in the Broadwood settlement, which had been ongoing for three years.

Five hundred thousand pounds didn't seem enough for the loss of a husband and father, but it was the industry standard for a fatal accident of this type. Mr Murphy had died because of alleged negligence on Broadwood Ltd's part.

Purely to reassure myself that I hadn't missed something fundamental, I opened my briefcase and shuffled through the files. Hammersmith versus Duguid & Masters Ltd. Morris versus Donald. McGowan versus Francinelli & Sons. No Murphy versus Broadwood Ltd.

I searched again, slammed my case shut and glanced at my watch. Eight fifty-five. I could get back to my apartment, pick up the file and return within half an hour.

In my haste I knocked my coffee over my desk and keyboard. I breathed deeply, snatched up my keys and raincoat and headed back to the lift.

'Karen, I've got to go out,' I sighed at my PA on my way past, 'and I've spilt coffee on my desk and keyboard. Can you get somebody to clean it up?'

'Certainly, Miss Paterson. When should I expect you back?' Karen called after me.

'Half an hour.'

I realised I was brusque but I didn't have time to exchange pleasantries that morning.

The streets were busy with office workers, shop assistants and hairdressers scurrying to work. I was slowed down by the flow of human traffic and had to jostle past them all the way,mumbling 'excuse me'.

As I reached the far end of my street, I looked up towards my apartment building. The sunlight ricocheted off the windows and toasted the blond sandstone.The whole building radiated warmth and beauty. It was a reclaimed Victorian warehouse overlooking the reclaimed river that ran through the heart of the reclaimed city.

They had done a wonderful job, particularly on the penthouse lofts, one of which was mine. It was an exclusive building with only twelve apartments and fully occupied by other professionals. We steered clear of each other's lives but were civil enough to lend the building a feeling of superficial community.

I reached into my raincoat pocket and pulled out my parents' house keys. It was turning into a perfect day.

I buzzed the caretaker, Mrs McCaffer, but got no answer. Dispiritedly, I buzzed all the other flats until I reached the two penthouses but, as I had expected, everybody was out.

I took a deep breath and buzzed penthouse number 2. Half of me wanted no answer and the other half was desperate to get...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Hutchinson
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2004
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0091799740
• ISBN 13: 9780091799748
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Anzahl der Seiten: 448
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar