Fatal Legacy Read Online Free

Enterprises’ accountants, with a simple list of questions at three o’clock in the afternoon, and left at seven with a set of new responsibilities that would have intimidated even the most experienced of businessmen.
    Doggett and Hawes’ offices were the essence of anonymity and discretion on the outside, but once past the security-coded front door and card-controlled lift, the façade was swept aside, to be replaced by solid, tasteful luxury. As Alexander stepped out of the lift and walked towards the antique table that served as a reception desk, he was sure that he’d made a mistake and had somehow ended up in a gentleman’s club.
    Faded Persian rugs covered a highly polished dark oak floor; a round inlaid rose- and satinwood table supported a massive willow-patterned bowl, planted with spring bulbs which perfumed the air with hints of an alpine meadow; an eighteenth-century grandfather clock ticked away steadily with a satisfactory ‘ker-clunk’, as it had done for the last two hundred and fifty years. The receptionist was a balding, portly little man dressed in a pristine white shirt, regimental tie and navy pinstriped three-piece suit.
    He rose to his feet and said, before Alexander had gone three steps, ‘Mr Alexander Wainwright? Mr Doggett is expecting you, sir. Would you like to leave your, er, anorak with me?’
    The clock was chiming three as Alexander walked down the short corridor, past closed mahogany doors with brass fittings that had been polished to a smooth glow, to the last door on the left. The third chime sounded as the receptionist opened the outer door without knocking and then tappedfirmly on the inner door immediately behind it.
    ‘Mr Alexander Wainwright, sir.’ He ushered Alexander in and closed both doors behind him.
    Frederick Doggett sat behind an antique desk in an office more than double the size of Alexander’s sitting room. It was better furnished, too. Despite the air-conditioning, a log and coal fire burned in a cast-iron grate set in a reproduction Adam marble fireplace. Walnut bookcases lined one wall and a collection of shooting prints covered the other three, while yet another grandfather clock measured out the time with a dry tick.
    Alexander was so taken aback by the room that he missed the opportunity to study Doggett before the man was at his side, shaking his hand and simultaneously guiding him to a wing-backed chair in front of the fire.
    ‘Alexander, how good to see you, but in such tragic circumstances . Please do allow me to extend my condolences to you and your family. A great loss and, I am sure, a great sadness.’
    The man was so smooth that it was impossible to discern any double meaning behind his extravagant sympathy. Yet he must have known how little Uncle Alan had been loved. The sense that he was being laughed at, however cleverly, irritated Alexander and made him determined to dislike the accountant no matter what else the man said or did. As he took an A4 lined sheet of paper from his pocket, Doggett watched him in silence, a one-sided smile playing on his lips that changed infinitesimally , as Alexander looked up at him, into one of concerned enquiry.
    ‘It’s a list of questions my wife and I want to ask you concerning Wainwright Enterprises. I believe you already have a copy.’
    ‘Of course, by all means. Would you like to go through them now or after you have had your uncle’s directions concerning the future management of his companies?’
    Alexander felt a fool, and that in turn made him annoyed. However, he said, mildly enough, ‘Good point. Uncle Alan’s instructions first, I think.’
    As he sat in silence listening to his dead uncle’s words, he realised with growing satisfaction that his working life would never be the same again. At its simplest, his uncle hadrecommended him as managing director of Wainwright Enterprises . He was to be given a seat on the main board and executive positions in the subsidiaries.
    ‘I know that this