Dead Men's s Boots

‘This is a warrant executed this morning by Judge Tilney at Hendon magistrates’ court. Will you please read it?’

Carla smacked the paper out of the man’s hand so that he had to flail briefly to catch it again before it fell into the grave.

‘Go away, Mister Todd,’ she said coldly. ‘You’ve got no business being here. No business at all.’

‘I have to disagree,’ Italian-suit-guy said, politely enough, unfolding the paper and showing it to Carla. ‘You know what my business is, Mrs Gittings, and you know why I couldn’t just allow this to happen.

What you’re doing here is illegal. This warrant forbids you from burying the mortal remains of the late Jonathan Gittings, and it requires you to appear at—’

He ran out of steam very abruptly. He was looking into the grave, and he clearly registered the fact that it was already occupied and half-full of earth. There was maybe a second when he seemed false-footed: all dressed up, writ in hand, and nowhere to go. Then he refolded his warrant and tucked it away in his breast pocket with a decisive motion, his expression sombre.

‘Obviously I’m already too late,’ he said. ‘I was under the impression that this service was scheduled to start at three o’clock. I’m sure that was what I was told when I called the funeral parlour this morning. Perhaps there was a last-minute cancellation?’ Carla flushed red, opened her mouth to speak, but Todd raised his hands in surrender. ‘I’m not going to try to interrupt a funeral that’s already in progress – and I apologise for disturbing the solemnity of the occasion.

If I’d been in time to stop the burial, it was my legal duty to do so. Now . . . I’ll retire and consider the other avenues that are available to me. We’ll talk again, Mrs Gittings. And you can expect an exhumation order in the fullness of time.’

Carla gave a short cry of pain, as if the words had physically wounded her. Then Reggie Tang – an unlikely Galahad – stepped in between her and the lawyer, fixing him with a look full of violent promise.

‘Can I see your invitation, mate?’ he demanded. At the same time I saw Reggie’s deceptively scrawny-looking friend Greg Lockyear moving in behind Todd, looking to Reggie for his cue. I couldn’t believe that they were planning to lay some hurt on a lawyer in front of fifty witnesses, but the grim set of Reggie’s face was impossible to misread.