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"'Sir' will do, here," the Judge admonished, but gently, without rancour. Around the sides of the table, a commotion erupted. The Madderfys, father and son, stood up as one and started speaking together, objecting to Clunie's presence on numerous grounds, none of which seemed to be either clearly articulated or particularly reasonable. Between them, Alva burst into tears, pressing her hands to her face and wailing in a theatrical fashion. Next to them, Logan just sat there, unmoving and carefully expressionless, although I thought I could just detect a faintly gloating attitude in the way his eyes glanced at the younger Madderfy. The Vale family seemed stunned, shocked into immobility, although Merton's father managed to stand, then just stood there with his mouth moving but no sound emerging. I did my best to look surprised, even shocked, at Clunie's arrival. I might even have fooled some of those present, although the elder Madderfy glanced at me though narrowed eyes. "Sit down, everyone," the Judge roared, the clerks flanking him rising in their seats together like avenging Valkyries. The clamour subsided slowly. Nobody seemed willing to be the first to silence their misgivings about Clunie's presence, or perhaps it was their moral outrage. I couldn't tell. The Judge glared around the room until the final murmurings ceased. The Madderfys returned to their seats, the father turning to comfort Alva while the son continued to look daggers at Clunie. Finally, everyone was seated, save for me and Clunie. "Mister Gask, close the door, if you please." "Yes, sir," I responded promptly. I pushed the door closed and moved to an unoccupied seat on the edge of the table closest to the door and opposite the Judge. Kirkton indicated an unoccupied seat at the corner of the table with one hand and nodded to Clunie. She moved quietly around the table, the eyes of everyone in the room on her. She sat where she had been bid, with just a couple of empty chairs and one of the clerks between herself and the Judge. "Why are you here, Miss Ford?" the Judge enquired in a low serious voice. "I was a friend, a very dear friend, of poor Merton," she began, speaking quietly, her eyes downcast demurely. The commotion threatened to erupt again, but Kirkton's glance was enough to nip it in the bud. "Please continue," the Judge said to Clunie. "Merton entrusted me with his briefcase," she said simply, "I think there's something important in there. I want to know that it's being properly looked after, whatever it is." She paused, then added even more softly, "And I want to know what it is in there, too." The Honourable Judge Kirkton was clearly warming to the pretty female with the quiet smile and subdued voice, one who seemed to genuinely care for the deceased, rather than the duplicitous in-laws or the grasping business partners. "So how is it that you no longer have Mister Vale's briefcase?" he asked. "Merton left it with me for safe-keeping," she started, "Just before he, he, ..." Her eyes filled with tears. She took a tissue from her tiny and expensive-looking handbag and dabbed at her eyes daintily. "It was stolen from me," Clunie continued, visibly pulling herself together, "And Findo here - I mean, Mister Gask - went to get it back for me." "And you have the case now, I see," the Judge said, turning his attention to me. I swung the briefcase onto the polished wooden surface of the table, setting it down carefully. "Good. Now," the Judge pronounced, opening a slim folder on the table in front of him, "We can proceed with the reading of the will."
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Part 43