"Friend, Peter - Trust And Treachery" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friend Peter)

= Trust and Treachery
by Peter Friend


The whole family had to meet at the solicitor's office just an hour after Adam's funeral. Clause 26(c) of the Halderson Trust Deed demanded it, and whatever that ridiculous document demanded, it got.

Right after a funeral, before the grave had even been filled in? It seemed disrespectful.

Still, it had been a tedious marriage and Rachel had spent the last three months wishing Adam would hurry up and die. Not that she'd hated her husband -- she wouldn't wish cancer on anyone -- but to be practical, his death meant she'd soon be several million dollars richer.

She hadn't been to the solicitor's office since Adam's great-uncle Benjamin Halderson died three years ago and she'd inherited her own trusteeship and shareholding in the Halderson Trust. The place hadn't changed - it was still dusty and gloomy and reminded her of a funeral home.

The reception area was deserted. Someone pale lurked down a dark corridor, but disappeared when she blinked. A small tarnished brass bell was mounted on the reception desk; she was about to ring it when the elderly Mr Calshaw shuffled into view.

"My personal condolences, dear Mrs Halderson," he greeted her, looking mournful. He'd said exactly the same thing three years ago, although she'd never even met Adam's great-uncle. Mr Calshaw specialised in wills and trusts, so she supposed he greeted every client the same way.

In the conference room, Victoria and Florence Halderson were already waiting. The spinster sisters clucked and twittered and patted her hand, just as they had at the funeral. Rachel was glad she'd gone for the traditional widow's veil so no one could see her smile.

As she'd arranged, Adam's brother Taylor arrived several minutes later. She and Taylor didn't want to be seen together too much just yet.

Dan, Adam's twenty-year-old son from his first marriage, wandered in. Late as always. He'd worn an embarrassingly scruffy suit at the funeral; now he'd changed back into his usual hand-knitted jersey and patched jeans and looked like a tramp.

"Hi, aunties. Hi, Uncle Taylor. Hi, Mum," he beamed.

She winced inside. It was bad enough being stepmother to this bearded tree-hugging bran-munching hippy without him calling her Mum all the time. She was only eleven years older than him, after all.

Victoria and Florence thought the world of him, of course, just as Adam had. The sisters fussed over him now, pretending great enthusiasm as he showed them photos and babbled on about his latest loony scheme -- saving some endangered grey-crested robin. It looked to her like a dead budgie wearing stilts.

Mr Calshaw came in, carrying a thick ribbon-bound sheaf of papers, and everyone sat down. Just as last time, six chairs were set out around the long table, one for Mr Calshaw and one for each of the five trustees, dead or alive. As a non-trustee, Dan was banished to a small battered couch at the back of the room.

On the table in front of each chair was a leather-bound copy of the Halderson Trust Deed -- rather pointless, since everyone in the room had read it dozens of times, but the deed said things must always be done this way and today would be no exception.

"As you are all aware," droned Mr Calshaw, "I have called this meeting in accordance with the conditions of the Halderson Trust Deed of 1903, as set out by your ancestor Bartholemew Everett Halderson. Clauses 26 and 27 control the succession of a trusteeship and shareholding upon the death of any trustee - Adam Bartholemew Halderson in this case.

"Clause 27(j) now requires me to ask whether any person here has knowledge that the deceased did ever commit arson, adultery, divorce, murder or real estate fraud, did ever join any circus or any Communist organisation or the Mormon Church, did ever enter the country of Portugal or any of its colonies, did ever fail to give any Halderson descendant the second Christian name of Bartholemew, did...."

Clause 27(j) always infuriated Rachel. Bartholemew Everett Halderson had been quite mad. What he had against Mormons or the Portuguese, for example, was a mystery to everyone. As was why all the children had to have Bartholemew as their middle name -- even the girls -- that was presumably no more than vanity. Thank God she'd only married into the family, so that clause didn't apply to her.

Mr Calshaw was still reading the same clause three minutes later: "...did attempt or commit suicide, was executed for treason, did die of leprosy or syphilis or tuberculosis or heart attack or murder, or did ever perform on stage in a music hall theatre." He took a well-deserved sip from a water glass.

"Nay," everyone chorused, Florence giggling and trying to sound like a horse. Honestly, the woman was fifty-four -- wouldn't she ever grow up?

Mr Calshaw glared at her. "I would remind everyone of Clause 19(e), which allows any trustee to immediately resign should they not agree with any conditions of the trust deed."

"Sorry," mumbled Florence, red-faced. Even she wasn't stupid enough to risk her twenty percent of the trust's million dollar annual profits.

"The trustees' confirmation of the deceased's adherence to the trust deed's conditions is therefore a matter of public record as per Clause 27(m)," Mr Calshaw continued, "and unless repudiated within one calendar month from this date as per Clause 27(p), the deceased's trusteeship and shareholding shall transfer in full to the person deemed eligible under Clause 27(q).

"The trust deed does not require me to read Clause 27(q) aloud" -- there was a sigh of relief since everyone knew it was seven pages long -- "but as previously advised, Adam's trusteeship and shareholding goes to Rachel, in addition to that which she already holds."