‘Should we ask Chief Superintendent Goddard to speak to his counterpart in Spain?’ Wendy said.
‘’It won’t help,’ Bridget said. ‘You soon hit bureaucracy, and the wheels will grind slowly.’
‘Bridget’s right,’ Isaac said. ‘Any indication as to how much Ralph might have borrowed?’
‘There was a cash injection into one bank account of four hundred thousand pounds. It may not be money that Lawrence borrowed, but it seems possible. The money had been transmitted by an offshore bank, and the bank’s not telling whose account, but I’ve been on to Fraud, and they reckon it’s probably an English account holder.’
‘Okay, enough said. We need to find whoever gave our man Ralph a few days in the hospital. Bridget, keep checking, Wendy, you can come with me to see Caroline Dickson.’
‘I’ll get down on the street. Start checking out who’s lending big,’ Larry said.
‘We’re dealing with someone who’s not averse to violence, and a police officer may not scare him. Easy enough to take him out, never to be found again,’ Isaac said.
‘I’ll find out a few names first, and then we’ll discuss it. After that, we can figure out what to do.’
***
Caroline Dickson agreed to an interview at her house.
‘Mrs Dickson, I need to caution you,’ Isaac said. ‘There is vital information that you are withholding from us, we know that now.’
‘I’ve been totally honest with you, so has my husband,’ Caroline said.
‘Your brother is in trouble, and you know it. He told you something in the hospital.’
‘He’s borrowed money he can’t pay back.’
‘Are you going to help?’
‘I don’t know. It’s a lot of money, and these people can’t be trusted.’
‘If they can do that to him,’ Isaac said, ‘they are capable of more, even murder.’
‘Ralph’s frightened, and he told me not to tell you. It complicates matters.’
‘Not for us, it doesn’t. Your father’s murder, could it be related?’
So far nobody in the Lawrence family knew of Molly Dempster’s remarkable confession. The revelation that Ralph was her son may well have provoked an interesting reaction from Caroline, but now was not the time and place. Ralph was in the hospital not because of who his mother was, but because of his father. Isaac could see Gilbert’s death as related, but it was a long shot.
‘My father’s death, why?’ Caroline said. ‘He was old, not in good health, and he would not have lived forever.’
‘Five, ten years, long enough for someone to have become nervous, become desperate. Now we know your brother didn’t kill him, proof from the Spanish police on that one, and we’ve ruled out Molly Dempster.’
‘Molly’s a saint, always has been. She brought us up as if we were her own children,’ Caroline said, showing more affection for the woman than she did for her brother.
Wendy looked over at Isaac, saw an imperceptible shake of his head. Both the police officers knew that the woman had said something closer to the truth than she would ever know. It was clear that at some stage Ralph would have to be told. He was illegitimate, the bastard son of a wealthy man and the family housekeeper. Further scandal for a family that had had its fair share. And how would Caroline take the news? Would she distance herself from her half-brother? Neither shared an unbreakable bond; maybe when they were younger, but they had spent many years apart, and Caroline led a decent life with a man she loved, whereas Ralph had become disreputable, a disgrace to his father and to her. Caroline’s children were upstanding members of society, Ralph’s son was struggling to find his way, full of the weaknesses that had blighted his biological father.
‘Molly had lived above the garage, and then spent the remainder of her time looking after your father, only once venturing into the main house. Doesn’t that sound strange to you?’ Isaac said.
‘That was Molly. She was just a good person. You’ll never find either Ralph or myself say a bad word against her. And as for killing our father, not possible. Even if she suspected what was upstairs, it would not have changed her. She was devoted to my parents, even loved them.’
‘Explain love,’ Wendy said.
‘A deep friendship. Once, my mother, I was in my teens by then, told me that if something happened to her, I was to ensure that Molly was looked after.’
‘What did you take that to mean?’
‘I was in my teens, the silly teens, too much alcohol, too many late nights, and no doubt too many unsuitable men. She was trying to tell me something, but I wasn’t listening that closely, trying to get out of the house. Molly came in, and that was the end of the conversation.’
‘You’re older now. What do you think she meant?’
‘The love that Molly felt for my mother was sisterly. For my father it was romantic. We always knew, Ralph and me. Sometimes we’d tease her, not that she said or did anything, only smile. Our mother wanted Molly to be with our father if she was not there.’
‘Did your mother sense an early death?’
‘Sometimes she would have these episodes where she would need to be confined to the house. No doubt she would have been suicidal, into self-harming.’
‘Any proof?’
‘Not really. We were away a lot of the time, although Molly would have seen it. My mother was clear that she didn’t want our father to be on his own, and if it wasn’t her, it was to be Molly. To Ralph and me, she was a second mother, but she never interfered in the family. She’d just be there, always in the background, always trustworthy.’
‘In the end, Molly wasn’t with your father, was she?’
‘After our mother disappeared, although we didn’t know that she was dead and upstairs, our father became reclusive. He became what you know of him. The loss of our mother must have affected him greatly.’
‘And Molly?’
‘She was distraught, but she continued regardless. Always stoic, always a meal on the table. I never saw her cry.’
‘Some people don’t,’ Isaac said. ‘Sometimes they just bottle it up, keep busy, although when they’re on their own, they let go. Molly could have been one of those people.’
‘Probably, but she was the rock when our father went to pieces with grief.’
‘And you?’
‘I was at the house every day after our mother disappeared, out on searches for her. We dredged the canal, the ditches, looked in manholes, checked the train station, local buses, taxis, but nothing. The police were involved. You must have records.’
‘We do, but what about Ralph?’
‘He wasn’t there. By then, he had gone overseas, and it was two years before he made contact again. He was in Thailand, or maybe it was Cambodia. It appears he had met someone and he was planning to stay. When I told him about his mother, he came back, not that there was any point. Our mother was gone, we even held a memorial service for her at the local church, and our father was already in seclusion. He only started going to the off-licence in the last ten years. Before that, Molly would deal with everything. A list of requisites in the kitchen of a morning and she would buy what was needed, prepare his meals, change his bed, the one that had been placed in the room off the kitchen.’
‘Why did she do that for all those years?’
‘That was Molly.’
‘Coming back to Ralph,’ Isaac said. ‘What are we going to do to help him?’
‘He needs to tell you the truth. The money can be dealt with, but do the people who put him in the hospital take what’s given and leave well alone?’
‘They probably will, but it’s a different circumstance here. Your father was incredibly wealthy. A temptation to most people, not only the criminal.’
‘We’ve had enough begging letters and emails. My family of long-lost relatives is over two hundred now. You wouldn’t believe that I have family on all continents.’
‘We’ve seen it before; lottery winners are the more susceptible. Some ha
ve even squandered their wealth on the more deserving cases,’ Wendy said.
‘Were they?’
‘Who knows. It’s not criminal to beg, not criminal to give. It wasn’t a police matter, only if it was a scam.’
‘We’ve got a big bin, that’s where they all go,’ Caroline said.
‘It doesn’t stop them knocking on your door, jumping out in front of your car, feigning an injury.’
‘It’s happened. Desmond’s considering hiring a guard for outside the house, but for how long? Has Molly been pestered?’
‘We don’t think so, but we’ll check. There are some questions for her.’
‘Don’t trouble her too much. She’s just an innocent. All this is beyond her,’ Caroline said.
Chapter 21
Larry worked his contacts, attempted to find out who was lending big, who was likely to use violence if anyone defaulted.
Harry Eckersley, a low-life that Larry had heard of before, operated out of a shop in Hammersmith, no more than a couple of miles from Challis Street. The shop was rundown, full of second-hand phones, laptops, and computers, assorted bric-a-brac and more than enough family mementoes, deposited there for sale or return to the owner if they came up with the ready cash. It was not the sort of place that Larry liked, and he knew that some of the merchandise wasn’t legally acquired. He didn’t expect a friendly welcome.
‘Detective Inspector Larry Hill, Homicide, Challis Street. Are you the owner?’ Larry said as he showed his warrant card, his photo and name displayed.
‘No one’s died in here, copper,’ Eckersley replied. ‘No need to kill anyone for what they leave here in exchange for some of my hard-earned.’
Insults from the general public weren’t unexpected. Larry had heard it before, even in the pub he visited on a Friday night for a quiet drink of beer. The rough element that sometimes got in there knew that the police were powerless to respond to verbal threats, and after a few drinks, some had attempted to bait Larry and other police officers more than they should, usually being egged on by their drunken mates.
Larry had experienced one a couple of weeks previously. It was close to closing time, and the man who had been hurling names had come out of the pub feeling pleased with himself. He didn’t see the man standing to one side out on the street, not until it was too late. He fell to the ground after one blow in the face from a clenched fist. ‘Next time, it’ll be your groin,’ Larry said.
‘That’s police brutality. I could report you.’
‘No witnesses,’ Larry said. He knew he had been wrong to hit him, but sometimes enough was enough. The next time Larry encountered the man, he had walked over, patted him on the back and bought him a pint of beer.
‘Sorry about the other week. Too much beer, not enough brains,’ he said.
‘Forget it. You’re not the first, you won’t be the last.’
‘I pity the poor guy who you hit in the balls. You packed a punch.’
‘Just make sure it’s not you, or any of your smart friends.’
‘It won’t be. You’ve got our respect.’
Larry looked Eckersley square in the eye. ‘I’m here about murder, not whether half the stuff in here is stolen. Unless you want this place turned over by the uniforms looking for stolen merchandise, I suggest you stop your insults and give me some answers.’
The miserly little man reflected on what to do. ‘Okay, Inspector, what do you want?’
‘It may be better if you close your door, or we can talk out the back.’
‘Here’s fine. It’s a mess back there.’ Which to Larry meant that the evidence of stolen goods hadn’t been dealt with yet.
With the door at the front closed the two men sat down on a couple of chairs produced from behind the counter. ‘We’d better make ourselves comfortable,’ Eckersley said.
‘We’re looking for big lenders. I’m told that you’re one.’
‘I lend if the risk is acceptable. But I have a limit.’
‘What is it?’
‘One hundred thousand, but I’m reluctant. If they don’t pay me back, I’m out of pocket, not much I can do about it either.’
‘You can threaten them, give them a taste of what will happen if they don’t pay you back with interest.’
‘Even if I did, that doesn’t mean I’ll get it back, does it? And besides, that’s not how I operate.’ Larry knew when he had been told a lie. Eckersley was just the sort of man to send in his men if someone was giving trouble, late on his repayments, had given some dumb tale about next week and paying in full.
‘Don’t feed me nonsense,’ Larry said. ‘I’m not here for you. I’m here for someone who lent four hundred thousand, someone who’s not averse to giving someone a serious beating, someone who would probably kill if the debt couldn’t be recovered.’
‘No profit in that, only a lot of hassle.’
‘Let’s assume this person can afford to carry the debt if there’s no other option.’
‘There are one or two, but if they find out that I’ve spoken to you…’
‘They won’t. And don’t give any of that “I’m just an honest man trying to make an honest quid” nonsense. It’s an insult to my intelligence.’
‘You’re a tough bastard, Detective Inspector Hill,’ Eckersley said.
‘I’m a good friend if you help me. Help me, I help you. Deal?’
‘It’s a deal.’
‘Good. Who do you have?’
‘There’s one not far from here. Goes by the name of Dennis Bartholomew. Some call him Dennis the Menace, after the cartoon character in the boy’s magazines back in the fifties, or maybe it was the sixties, not sure which now. Find an original, and they can be worth money.’
‘Why the nickname?’
‘He’s not into the rough stuff. With him, you sign a contract, sign over your car, jewellery, whatever you’ve got of value. He’ll charge high interest, not as high as some, and with him, it’s a regular beating every few days until you settle. Anyway, that’s when he becomes a menace.’
‘It’s violence, it’s criminal, but our man is much more violent. Break bones, put you in the hospital violent.’
‘There’s one I’ve heard of. Low profile, rarely seen out on the street. I’ve heard him referred to as the lender of last resort.’
‘Nowhere else, that’s where you go?’
‘Tough bastard. I heard of one mug who borrowed heavily from him. He took the money he had made and skipped the country, failed to pay back the loan,’ Eckersley said.
‘What happened?’
‘Rumours, may not be true, maybe that this lender put it about to make sure anyone else who borrowed from him paid up.’
‘Assume they’re true. We believe this individual to be dangerous. He’s already put someone in the hospital.’
‘It could be him. Anyway, the story is that this fool, he came from around here, has got this great idea for an illegal gambling club, high-rollers, no limits. These clubs appear from time to time, make their money and close. The bribes are too high, the security’s a nightmare, and then there are the extortion merchants. Illegal gambling doesn’t always attract the best clientele. The club opens, the guy is pulling in serious money, dealing with those trying to rip him off, breaking a few arms if anyone’s caught cheating. Very soon, he’s got himself two million in cash sitting in a safe in his office, another one and a half shipped out of the country. The lender staked him a quarter of a million, and he wants it back along with the ten per cent per week interest.’
‘Ten per cent per week?’
‘That’s what I said. And he’s not slow to show you what will happen if you borrow, normally some hapless fool on the floor or strung up who hasn’t kept up the payments.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘Someone who came in here, nasty divorce, cleaned him out. He wants to get back into business, the banks are not biting, telling him to go take a running jump. You know what they're like?’
Larry di
d, having renegotiated his mortgage to accommodate his wife’s plan to buy another house. The manager had sat there, telling him what a privilege it was to be able to help one of our fine police officers, before slapping the offer down on the table. Larry had looked at the proposal, looked at his wife, looked at the bank manager. He knew that he could just about make the payments, although his wife’s reaction to the disappointment if he had not signed, meted out for the next few weeks, he couldn’t. Larry even managed to thank the sanctimonious parasite who had just suckered him into more debt.
‘I know,’ Larry said.
‘This man I’m telling you about. He’d been over to see this person we’re talking about. He’s on the other side of the Thames. The conditions were laid out. A volunteer, not that he had any choice, was on display to show what happens if you don’t pay. They shot out the man’s kneecap, then dumped him fifty miles away.’
‘He could have told them who had shot him.’
‘Not him. It’s either keep quiet, or it’s the other kneecap or the concrete boots. Anyway, this guy with the gambling club. He’s skipped the country, not paid his staff or the lease on the premises he’d been using, not that they can do much about it. But our lender, he’s got connections, and he finds out where the man’s gone. Supposedly, he’s swanning around Dubai, a couple of Russian tarts in the back seat of the Mercedes with him. They come up to an intersection, outside of the city, in the desert, so I’ve been told. A couple of motorcycles pull up alongside, passengers on the pillion seats. They level a couple of Kalashnikovs into the car, killing the man, the two whores, and the driver. After that, the man’s hotel room is broken into, the safe is opened, and out pops the best part of seven hundred thousand in fresh notes, some in Euros, some in American dollars.’
‘Tough justice.’
‘Not to this man whose name you want. You sure you want to get mixed up with him? He’ll not have any issues with a nosy policeman.’
‘Your friend, the one with the divorce?’
‘The deal with the lender is, if you don’t take the loan, then no issues, just never tell anyone what you’ve witnessed. At least the man’s fair. Anyway, the man with the divorce comes back here. I lent him fifty thousand, not what he wanted. He’s got a small shop down the far end of Portobello Road. He’s making a living, and his kneecaps are safe, even found himself another woman. And he paid me back.’
Murder of a Silent Man Page 15