Barrington Street Blues Read Free

afternoon. You may have heard of them. Alastair Scott is a clergyman, but they live well. They’re sitting on a pile of old money. I’m going to be in court and may not be back in time for their appointment.”
    â€œI’ll see the parents.”
    â€œGreat. Meanwhile, I’ll draw up the contingency agreements.” We were required to register with the court the agreement between us and our clients to take thirty percent of whatever we recovered in our lawsuit against the treatment centre. Which, as Ross had pointed out, could now be millions.
    Ross was in his late thirties. Short, trim, and handsome with thinning dark hair and a winning smile. He was one of those people who look better with eyeglasses than without; his tortoiseshell frames gavehim an air of distinction. I had never met anyone who worked harder. He confided to me when he joined Stratton Sommers that he had never felt appreciated when he was toiling away in the middle ranks of his father’s prestigious law firm. He was ready when Rowan made his latest offer of a partnership. I walked out to the waiting room and told Darlene, our receptionist, that I would be seeing Mr. and Mrs. Scott when they came in later in the day.
    â€ 
    I had not even opened the Leaman and Scott suicide file yet, but, as I expected, Graham Scott’s parents were not looking for information from me. They were determined to set the record straight about their son, and all I had to do was listen. Canon Alastair Scott and his wife, Muriel, were both tall and slim with blondish hair beginning to turn white. He appeared in a well-tailored business suit, but I could easily picture him in clerical collar and vestments. He was an Anglican priest with a doctorate in divinity. Muriel Scott wore a pale blue dress with a light tweed jacket and a string of pearls. I knew they were friends of my senior partner, Rowan Stratton. I doubted they had even been aware of the Fore-And-Aft before their son was found dead there.
    â€œOur son has been portrayed in the press as a drug addict and a criminal,” Canon Scott began as soon as we had introduced ourselves. “In fact, he was not an addict. He was a recreational user of cocaine, not crack cocaine, and he was able to go for long periods of time without it. He had a minor criminal record, for drug possession and common assault. Graham got in with an unfortunate set of companions in high school. I don’t put the blame entirely on others of course. Graham was responsible for his own actions, and should have known better. Indeed he did know better. Notwithstanding all this, he got through high school without repeating any grades and, with some interruptions and backsliding, he managed to complete three years of a science degree at Dalhousie U. Graham told us he was planning to go back this September and finish his degree. After that, medical school. It was his dream — to be more accurate, it was his intention — to become a cardiologist. There is no doubt in my mind that eventually he would have achieved that goal.”
    â€œGraham comes where in the family? You have other children, I know.”
    â€œHe’s — he was the third of four. Boy, girl, boy, boy. None of our other children got into trouble, but Graham was a bit of an adventurer. I always felt he would sink the lowest and, in the end, rise to the greatest heights.”
    â€œCanon Scott, Mrs. Scott, where was Graham living just before his death?”
    Muriel Scott answered. “He had recently moved back in with us. He had been rooming with some friends, but that arrangement was a trial to him. I think he saw moving home as a way to begin getting his life back in order.”
    â€œDid he ever speak to you about Corey Leaman?”
    â€œNever heard of him, until this happened,” the canon said.
    â€œSo you don’t know whether he was acquainted with Leaman before his death.” They shook their heads. “Did he talk