The Body in the Snow

by The Body in the Snow (retail) (epub)

  Harry snatched them up and started scanning through, his eyes flashing rapidly back and forth. ‘What do you mean “accounting errors”?’ he scowled at Lam.

  ‘Harry, speak to me,’ Morag said. ‘What’s going on?’

  He ignored her, and muttered to himself as he leafed through the document. ‘I warned him, I bloody warned him.’ He looked up at Lam. ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘Is this about the stake in the trust?’ Morag asked. No one seemed to be listening.

  Lam was smirking to himself. ‘The Nosh2U accounts are the biggest work of fiction since War and Peace. It’s been losing money on every single delivery, and borrowing to fill the gap. Those shares could fall by 90 per cent when this gets out, Harry.’

  Morag snatched the paperwork from Harry. ‘This can only be about the shares in trust, can’t it, Harry?’

  ‘No, Morag, it’s worse than that,’ Lam said. ‘Ask Deepak Tripathi.’

  ‘Deepak? What’s it got to do with him?’ She turned from Lam to Harry. ‘What’s going on, Harry? What haven’t you told me?’ She folded her arms.

  Harry’s face betrayed an agony. ‘This can’t be happening,’ he said.

  Morag turned to Johnny Lam. ‘I think you’d better leave.’

  Lam shrugged and indicated to Furnell that he should scoop up the documents from the table, but Morag grabbed them. ‘I think we need to read those.’

  Furnell’s bony hands tugged at the papers, but Morag held them to her chest, and turned her back on him, breaking his grip. Lam held up a cautionary hand to his associate.

  ‘Never fight with a lady, Dominic. Weren’t you ever taught that?’ He turned to Harry. ‘You can have those, but you didn’t get them from me, understand? I came here to help. When you realise the situation you are in, you will call me, I promise.’ He walked out of the conference room, and just as he was about to close the door, he whispered. ‘Where else are you going to get a hundred million before the banks want their money? Without me Empire of Spice will go bust.’

  Chapter 14

  Once they were alone, Morag stared at the man she thought she knew so well, and demanded, once again, that he tell her what was happening.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Harry said. ‘I should have told you. I think I’ve got a migraine coming on, I’ll just go get some tablets.’ He started to stand.

  The slap Morag gave him was so hard it sent him sprawling onto the carpet. ‘After all I have done for you, ten years of covering for you, I cannot believe you would keep me in the dark on something like this!’ She sat down and started leafing through the documents. ‘Harry, you’ve got to give me some pointers. I’m not a blasted accountant. Tell me what’s happening to Nosh2U, and why it matters to us.’

  Harry sniffed, and wiped his face. ‘Deepak used £108 million of borrowed money to buy extra shares in Nosh2U, and that money is now probably lost.’

  Morag’s face contorted as she digested the size of the debt. ‘I don’t believe it. How could he have borrowed that much? And without your mother knowing? And without board approval?’

  ‘He had asked her several times in previous months for permission to spend £10 million to give EoS a stake in Nosh2U, and then put it on the agenda for a board meeting approval. She had flatly refused, and had the agenda revised to exclude it.’

  ‘Good for her. Her caution was spot on.’

  ‘Yes, but on the Friday before she died, Deepak rang her and said he had done it anyway, three months previously. As you know, he is the only director of the EoS (Property) Holdings subsidiary, and he took out short-term loans secured against the property. She told me this when she rang me on the Friday night in India.’

  ‘She must have been fuming.’

  ‘She was, but as I pointed out at the time, in the months since Deepak bought, the value of the shares had risen by 12 per cent. I suggested we call a board meeting, mandate the sale of the £10 million worth of Nosh2U shares and pocket the profit. With the shares continuing to go up, it just didn’t seem an urgent matter.’

  ‘But I don’t get this. How did £10 million become £108 million?’

  Harry shrugged. ‘Deepak lied to us. He has actually mortgaged all our premises and property, the entire EoS portfolio. Initially he spent £10 million, but in recent weeks got excited by the rising share price, and piled in more and more money. I only realised when I eventually got access to the loan account last week.’

  ‘So what will happen tomorrow morning, when this news gets out?’

  Harry shrugged. ‘Nosh4U shares will collapse. By how much depends on just how bad the accounting problems are.’

  ‘What will the banks do?’

  ‘Nothing immediately, so long as the mortgages can be serviced and interest paid.’

  ‘How much interest?’

  ‘Well, it exceeds £100,000 a week.’

  ‘A week!’

  ‘There is worse news. The auditors are already here. There are loan covenants, legal agreements which allow the banks to demand their money back, and if we fail the audit that will trigger them. Deepak’s subsidiary is running an overdraft too, of about £1.5 million.’

  ‘How much does the company have in cash?’

  ‘Not a whole lot.’ He went back to his office, looked again at the spreadsheets on his laptop. Morag looked over his shoulder. ‘Pure cash, £1.25 million and change. We’ve got other resources, probably double that, that we could turn into cash within a week. But the payroll for the month goes through on Thursday, and—’

  ‘There’s nowhere near enough, is there?’ Morag said.

  Harry shook his head. ‘I don’t think we have any choice. We’ll have to accept Johnny’s offer.’

  ‘But that would be a disaster. The first thing Lam would do is to close the factories and move production abroad. That’s what he always does. Harry, forget the money, what about all our staff? All those people who have been with us for years and years and years?’

  ‘Yes, it’s very sad.’

  She shook him by the shoulders. ‘Don’t just accept it! Do something.’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do,’ he said, wearily.

  ‘Yes there bloody is! This is your family’s company, damn well fight for it.’ Morag took out her phone. ‘I’m ringing Deepak. There must be a way out of this.’

  ‘He won’t answer. I’ve tried him dozens of times.’

  ‘But what about the family? Have you spoken to the uncles and cousins? There is a lot of money there. You know better than I do.’

  Harry looked up at her. ‘Oh Morag, I’m afraid Deepak has already poisoned that well. Every time I spoke to one of our cousins or uncles in the last few days, they said all their spare money was in Nosh2U shares. They had heard Deepak boasting about the money he’d made, and most wanted a part of it.’

  ‘So you have known about this for more than a week?’

  ‘Yes, though not the scale of the borrowing. And of course it wouldn’t have been such a disaster if the shares were in a less risky venture. Oh God, I wished I had just forced him to sell last week, but he wouldn’t.’

  ‘It’s a Monday, the market is open, can’t we just sell the shares now?’

  ‘No, didn’t you hear him say? The shares can’t be traded. They are suspended pending the news. It’s too late, Morag.’

  Chapter 15

  Rain was lashing down throughout Gillard’s drive from Mount Browne into south-west London. Finally emerging from heavy traffic, he approached the imposing, wrought iron gates of the Roy home, which opened without him having to leave the vehicle. He was able to squeeze his unmarked Vauxhall into the last possible space, a tight fit between Prisha Roy’s black Porsche Cayenne and Harry’s silver Mercedes S class. Donning his raincoat, and easing out sideways without scratching Prisha’s motor, he made his way across the gravel and up the marble stairs into the portico. He rang the bell, and while he waited for someone to answer, turned to survey the nine assembled vehicles crammed into the parking area.

/>   One vehicle stood out like a sore thumb. Its presence triggered a small gasp from the detective, who had not expected to see it here.

  He was so engrossed that he did not hear the door open, and it was only when he heard a woman’s voice that he turned around. The housekeeper led him in, and asked for his coat. As he slid off the damp garment, he could hear raised voices beyond. The housekeeper returned and led him towards a very large dining room. The moment he was shown in, the furious Gujarati argument ceased and more restrained English began.

  ‘Ah, detective chief inspector,’ Harry said. ‘I think you know most people here.’ Around the table he spotted Prisha, looking very angry, and a rather doleful Kiara, her head resting in cupped hands, elbows on the table. At the back of the room Philippa Boswell was handing out coffee, aided by Morag Fairburn. There was no sign of Deepak Tripathi, but there were two other men. ‘This is trust member Mr L. P. Gosht, and our chairman and company legal counsel Vikram Vaj, who is my cousin.’ The first was an elderly Indian with a white beard and wearing an Astrakhan hat. Vaj was a younger man in a dark suit, with a fat briefcase open on the table.

  ‘Glad to meet you all,’ Gillard said. ‘First off, can I ask who owns the white Toyota Avensis?’

  ‘Oh, am I in the way?’ asked Philippa Boswell, putting down the coffee pot. ‘I’ll just come and move it.’

  Gillard waited until she was out in the hall, leading the way to the front door, before he put her in the picture. ‘Your car is not in the way, Mrs Boswell. There is no need to move it.’ She turned a puzzled glance to him as he said: ‘A very similar vehicle, an estate car with alloy wheels, was parked near Ashtead Common on the morning of Mrs Roy’s death.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t even have it then. I only got it last Wednesday.’ Her face relaxed into its characteristic smile. ‘I’m only borrowing it while mine is being repaired. I reversed into a bollard at Waitrose, silly me.’

  ‘So who loaned it to you?’

  ‘It’s Morag’s spare. Shall I go and get her?’ She turned to lead him back into the dining room, where voices were being raised again in dispute.

  The detective rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘No, it’s all right. We don’t have the registration number anyway, so don’t say anything. I don’t want to alarm her.’ This was an interesting development and Gillard planned to tackle Morag separately about it.

  ‘Well you wouldn’t want to spoil her day anyway. She’s just been appointed to the board.’

  ‘Is that what all the fuss is about?’

  Mrs Boswell smiled. ‘If you ask Prisha, definitely. She’s really not happy about it. But there is an enormous to-do about whether or not to sell the company.’ They walked back towards the meeting, where Prisha was loudly berating her brother, who was slumped in his chair, across the table from her, his spread hands and shrugged shoulders expressing bafflement.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Vikram Vaj said. ‘Can we return to the agenda please?’

  ‘Okay, you can minute this,’ Prisha said, standing up and slinging her handbag over her shoulder. ‘I’m sick and tired of our family company and the trust being run by a cabal of my father’s cronies. When I was a teenager, before any of you were directors, I worked on the production line making samosas by hand in ninety degree heat for a pittance, because my father thought it would be good for me. I worked from 4.30 a.m. on Saturdays and Sundays during term time, and during school holidays. And my miserable half per cent shareholding is now being further diluted, because my conniving brother is bringing her on board,’ and here she stabbed a finger towards Morag. ‘And is granting her ten times what I’ve got.’

  ‘I worked on the line too, Prisha,’ Morag said softly. ‘In the packing hall, university holidays for three years.’

  Prisha flapped her hand. ‘Packing hall, big deal. Then in the evening, you’d sneak off to Harry’s house—’

  ‘I think we’re getting off the point,’ Vaj said.

  ‘—emerging in the morning like the cat that got the cream.’

  Morag stood up. ‘You spied on me. You spied on us,’ she said pointing to Harry. ‘Private detectives? Good grief, woman.’

  Prisha pointed an accusing finger at her brother. ‘Only because you, Harry, said it was over with that Scottish tart—’

  ‘I’m actually here, Prisha, and I object to your—’ Morag said.

  ‘—when my mother finally found you a suitable bride. And then we discovered you were still carrying on just the same!’

  Kiara raised a hand. ‘Shouldn’t we be discussing whether or not to sell the company to Johnny Lam?’

  ‘We don’t have a choice, Kiki,’ Harry said. ‘As I explained, there is a hole—’

  ‘Shh!’ Vikram Vaj hissed, finger to his lips. ‘This is confidential information, and we would have to take a vote on whether to admit Mr Gillard to the meeting.’

  ‘But I still don’t understand how £108 million can just vanish,’ Kiara said.

  Vaj shook his head in exasperation, then leaned across to her and said, ‘I don’t think this is quite the time or place.’ His eyes slid sideways, indicating Gillard. ‘So perhaps as we still haven’t reached a decision we should adjourn until later.’ They agreed and the attendees began to stand up.

  ‘Perhaps I could have your attention for a moment,’ the detective said. ‘I know you are all very busy and I realise that the fate of the company must be preoccupying you. However, it is my duty to bring to your attention, as family members, what we have learned about your mother.

  ‘Toxicology tests on your mother’s body indicate that she was exposed to a very potent poison. The exposure was not prolonged enough to kill her, but we are satisfied it is the cause of her hair and weight loss, and most of her other medical symptoms. For a considerable period we were working on the basis that this occurred by accident.’ Gillard looked around at each of them in turn. ‘What am about to say to you is confidential, and I would ask that you do not share it with anyone outside of this room. We have now found the method through which she was poisoned. It involved someone tampering with one of her toiletries which she kept at the office.’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’ Harry said. ‘Do you mean a medicine, or what?’

  ‘I don’t want to give any more details at this stage, but suffice it to say that we believe someone who had access to her office was trying to kill her. I would now ask that each of you think hard about any occasions in the months leading up to Mrs Roy’s death in which someone may have had access to her desk. Those few of you whose DNA swab I have not yet taken, I would like to do so now, just to eliminate you from inquiries.’

  They all nodded, and looked at each other. Then Gillard added: ‘Where is Deepak Tripathi? He is a director isn’t he? So I presume he should be here. I need a swab of his DNA.’

  ‘He’s in Sri Lanka,’ Harry said. ‘But he was present on Skype for the board meeting earlier.’

  Gillard took swabs from Vaj and Gosht in the kitchen. As he was labelling the final tube, he noticed Morag, coat on, getting ready to leave. ‘Can I ask you to remain behind for a few minutes, Ms Fairburn?’ She nodded, and shrugged off the coat. Gillard noticed Prisha Roy watching from the doorway of the kitchen, a mug to her lips, as Morag was detained. He couldn’t see her mouth but her eyes radiated a smug satisfaction.

  * * *

  ‘Let’s go to the music room,’ Morag said, leading Gillard into a high-ceilinged reception room which he had not before visited. It was far larger than any room in the detective’s house. It was dominated by a Steinway grand piano and, at the far end, a slightly incongruous inglenook fireplace. Almost life-size portraits of Mrs Roy, Dr Roy and Mrs Roy’s late mother looked down at them from the walls. Morag indicated a large corner sofa, and they both sat. Gillard declined the offer of coffee and cake, and pulled out his notebook.

  ‘Oh dear, this looks a bit formal,’ Morag said, her initial smile wilting.

  ‘No, not at all. These kind of inquiries are piece
d together gradually, and the co-operation of close colleagues is important for us to find the culprit.’

  ‘I’m very shocked to hear about this poisoning. I mean who would want to do that to her? Poor Tanvi. I know she suffered so much with hair loss.’

  ‘We’ll come to that. What I’d like to ask you about initially is the car which I understand you loaned to Mrs Roy’s secretary.’

  ‘That old Toyota?’ She chuckled. ‘Yes, it is mine, and I did lend it to her last week.’

  ‘A white Toyota Avensis estate with alloy wheels, just like yours, was parked on the edge of Ashtead Common shortly after seven on the morning that your employer was murdered.’

  ‘I assume you’ve cross-checked the number plate?’

  ‘We don’t have the registration number, only a description.’

  ‘Well it can’t have been mine,’ she said. ‘Firstly, I was asleep at the time. And secondly, I rarely use the vehicle. It’s nearly ten years old, and I should probably get rid of it. I have a company car, a BMW three series, which is parked just out there if you want to take a look.’ The woman looked entirely comfortable.

  ‘It seems that you lend out the car from time to time—’

  ‘Detective chief inspector, I loaned the car to Mrs Boswell. But I’m not in the habit of handing it out willy-nilly.’

  ‘Does anyone apart from you have access to the keys?’

  She looked puzzled, as if she hadn’t considered this before. ‘I don’t think so, but I’ll have a think about it.’

  Gillard thanked her, and rapidly scribbled up some of his notes.

  ‘Is that all?’ she said, standing up.

  The detective patted the seat that she had just stood up from. ‘Not quite. Congratulations on your appointment, by the way.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Thank you. It’s come rather late in the day, and may well turn out to be a poisoned chalice.’

  ‘Because of this £108 million debt?’