Lord Branagh was upset. He had to be up before noon; a frightfully uncivilised hour. Karsten, his solicitor had been so insistent that he had no choice but to agree.
Normally; Karsten would come up to the estate, that is how things worked, so Lord Branagh had never actually set foot inside his office. It was well laid out. Nice to see the retainer being put to good use.
Karsten had explained that there was to be an accountant at the meeting. The man, a Mr Jones, was sitting opposite Karsten at a large desk. He was a thin, reedy man, with bottle-top glasses. Lord Branagh disliked him instantly.
“My Lord!” Karsten began “Mr Jones here has some rather disturbing news with regards to your finances.” Lord Branagh sat up at that. Mr Jones started to speak “My Lord. Over three weeks ago I was hired to review and audit the accounts of the Branagh Estate. I find some thing somewhat puzzling.”
The accountant hesitated. Lord Branagh, getting irritated, pushed the accountant on “Well! What was the matter?” Mr Jones continued “We cannot find any receipts or invoices to account for the income of the estate. As far as we can tell the estate business has been completely idle for at least three years. My Lord; can you account for this income?”
Lord Branagh had taken about all he could of the accountant and shouted at him “What nerve I will not take these questions?” Then; past the protesting Karsten, he stormed out and back down to his car.
As the car drove back through the long city streets back towards home. Lord Branagh; ignoring the Karsten’s attempts to phone him, thought about what to do next. There was likely to be an investigation. Probably best to shift the brothel to one of the more outlying buildings to hide it. The grow-house might be more tricky but sometimes these things had to be risked.
After all he had an expensive estate to run.
Written for Trifecta Week Sixty