‘What’s the letter?’ Marcia said, with a sideways glance at Jodie to say she didn’t appreciate Jodie knowing anything about Hamish that she herself didn’t. ‘Is it a scam?’

Jodie knew when to turn into a good secretary. She tugged on her headset, paid attention to her keyboard and didn’t answer. ‘What’s the letter?’ Marcia said again, this time directly to Hamish.

‘It’s some sort of con,’ Hamish said wearily. ‘And Jodie’s not bothering me any more than anyone else is. Hell, Marcia, I have work to do.’

‘I came to tell you the Harrington delegation’s been delayed,’ Marcia told him. ‘Their flight’s two hours late from London. Relax.’

He did, but not much. That meant rescheduling and…

‘I’ll rearrange your appointments.’ Jodie emerged from her headset and he cast her a look of gratitude. ‘Only I do think you should read the letter.’ She mightn’t like Marcia, she decided, but at least Marcia would make Hamish look at it.

He went back to frowning. ‘Jodie, get real. Letters saying I’m an earl and I’ve inherited a fortune are the stuff of a kid’s fantasy.’

‘But it doesn’t say send bank account details. It says contact a solicitor. That sounds fusty rather than scammy. Real.’

‘Let me see,’ Marcia decreed, and put out an imperious hand. Marcia was a corporate lawyer working for the same company as Hamish. She was the brains, he was the money, some people said-but Hamish had earned his money with his wits, and there was a fair bit of cross-over.

The two were a team. Jodie handed it over.

There was silence while Marcia read. The letter was on the official notepaper of an Australian legal firm. It looked real, Jodie thought defiantly. She wasn’t wasting her boss’s time.

And Marcia didn’t think so either. She finished reading and set the letter down with an odd look on her face.

‘Hamish, do you have an uncle called Angus Douglas? In Australia?’

‘No.’ He frowned. ‘Or…I don’t think so.’