to the print as Bell, who had already greeted them and ushered them into the library himself — the office being closed for the holiday — came through the door with a file in his hand. He was wearing jeans and a polo shirt, but didn’t seem too put out by their arrival, given he was already working anyway. The rest of the building seemed empty.
“That one’s my favourite,” he said, following Smith’s gaze.
“It’s a great line,” Smith agreed as Bell sat and opened the file folder.
“So, what can I help you with, detectives?” They had kept the explanation for their visit vague on the phone, but Bell had obviously come to his own conclusions about the purpose.
“We’re investigating Curtis Ritchie’s murder, and our inquiries led us to Nancy Ridgeway. We understand you represented her.”
Bell nodded. “Yes, I did. But surely you don’t think she’s a suspect. She wouldn’t harm a fly.”
“No, she’s not a suspect at this time, but we are interested in her paternity claim.”
Bell crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “It’s a bit of a sad story, really. She’s basically a good kid who got mixed up with the wrong guy.”
“You mean Curtis Ritchie?”
Bell nodded.
“So you think he’s the father of Nancy Ridgeway’s child ?”
“I have no doubt.”
“Then why didn’t she pursue the claim?”
“You’d have to ask her that, but I suspect it had a lot to do with family pressure, and appearances.”
Smith looked up from his notes. “We met her parents this morning, and I can see what you mean about their not wanting the claim going through the courts. Who could blame them?”
“Yeah. I’ve known John Senior for twenty years. He’s a good man, and I know he’s crushed by this whole thing. Since Nancy’s still a minor, he had the final say on the litigation.”
“What about John Junior?” Marshall asked.
Bell’s face hardened at the sound of the name. “What about him?”
“Do you know him well?”
“Not really.”
“Was he involved in the claim?”
“Most of the meetings were at the family home, and he was there, though I think he’s moved out since.”
Smith nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been to his place. He should probably have toughed it out at home for a few more years.”
Bell grinned. “To be honest with you, I always felt that it was John Junior who convinced Nancy’s folks to file the claim in the first place. I took instructions from the father, as Nancy’s legal guardian, but I think his son was egging them on.”
“Nancy mentioned it settled for fifty thousand. That doesn’t sound like a lot of money.”
“It’s not. I advised them against accepting it, but by then I think John Senior had stopped listening to his son, and Nancy had lost heart. It had already started to become unpleasant.”
“How so?”
“Ritchie’s lawyers wanted Nancy examined by an independent gynecologist, and they sent out a letter threatening all sorts of things, including a counterclaim for defamation, recovery of astronomical medical costs, that sort of thing. It was all smoke and mirrors, but it was clear they were going to fight the thing to the end.” Bell unfolded his arms and leaned over the table. “Like I said, I advised him against settling for that amount, as I think it was my duty to do. But deep down I was glad he didn’t listen. It would have torn them apart.”
“What about John Junior? How did he feel about the settlement?”
“He wasn’t really in the mix by the time it got to settlement. He wasn’t at the last meeting we had to discuss it.”
“Were you surprised?”
“A little, I guess. He certainly seemed to be pushing it in the beginning.”
“So when, exactly, did you settle ?”
Bell reached for the file folder, opened it, and flipped to a lawyer’s letter with a cheque stub on top. Even looking at it upside down, Smith could see the amount of fifty thousand dollars, and the name of the payee: Derek Bell and Associates.
“Who’s the cheque from?” he asked.
Bell looked at the stub, and his eyebrows rose just a little. “I was assuming it was the other lawyer’s trust account — my paralegal processes all of the cheques — but it’s actually from a numbered company.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Not really, though it’s usually either from the opposing firm or directly from an insurance company.”
“And this isn’t?”
“I don’t think so, but to be honest, I never checked. Like I said, I don’t really get involved in processing the cheques. Besides, the funds cleared and everyone was happy. Well, sort of.”
“Can we get the number?”
“I don’t see why not. It’s 819640 Ontario Ltd.”
“Thanks.” Smith scribbled the name in his notebook. “I see the cheque was made out to your firm. Is that normal?”
“Yes. Our fees and disbursements are deducted, and the balance is paid to the plaintiff. In this case, it was to John Senior, because of Nancy’s age. I can give you the exact amount, if you think it might be relevant. I only charged them ten percent.”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
“It was forty-three thousand, even.”
Smith pictured the Ridgeways around the kitchen table looking at the cheque, which seemed like a paltry sum for all their troubles.
“Any idea what they planned to do with the money?”
“None of my business, but if I know John Senior, it will be put away for the benefit of his daughter and her baby.”
“And John Junior wouldn’t have any right to any of it?”
“Not unless they had some kind of agreement within the family, but I doubt it.”
Marshall resumed with a few more questions before they thanked Bell and headed out into the warm afternoon sunshine.
“So?” Marshall said, as Smith fumbled with his notebook, feeling a sudden and powerful urge to smoke. He tried to focus on the case instead.
“I’m gonna give commercial crimes this company and see what comes back. If it’s not
