Molly's Boudoir: the 4th Jasmine Frame novel (Jasmine Frame Detective)

by P R Ellis

  ‘Paid to Mr Rana?’ Hamid asked

  ‘There’s no record of it,’ Tom said. ‘Where does Clement live, Sasha?’

  ‘Essex. He was very shy but he told me he’d driven specially to Thirsbury to have a dressing session with Evelyn. A transformation, he called it.’

  ‘With a wank thrown in?’ Terry added. ‘Who does who, do you think?’

  ‘That’s not necessary, Terry,’ Tom said, ‘There’s no evidence that the Buntings were offering sexual services.’

  ‘And no evidence that they weren’t,’ Terry added.

  ‘What did you get from Griffiths, Terry?’ Tom asked in order to change the topic of conversation.

  ‘Well, it is the same Neville Griffiths that we know from past run-ins, but he’s gone legit.’

  Tom raised his eyebrows. ‘Really?’

  ‘He says so. He’s running a loans business. Got a licence too. Reasonable rates of interest, so he says.’

  ‘So, Evelyn has taken out a loan?’

  ‘Yeah. A big one, hundred thou or so. Don’t know why though.’

  ‘I do,’ Tom said with a satisfied grin, ‘Jasmine found from the files on Evelyn’s computer that he’d paid out that size sum to Nicholls to buy him out of the business. Harriet admitted that.’

  ‘It’s a lot of money to pay back,’ Sasha said.

  ‘And I wouldn’t want to be in debt to Neville Griffiths even to save my life,’ Terry added.

  ‘Where’s Griffiths based, Terry?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Reading. He’s got a few businesses there.’

  ‘I think we need a chat with him, you and me, Terry.’

  ‘You think he’s involved in Bunting’s death?’

  ‘I’m sure a bit of insurance related arson would be just his kind of way of getting his money back quicker than by instalments.’ Tom said.

  Sasha spoke, ‘It’s a bit obvious, isn’t it? I mean, if Evelyn spread the petrol to make the fire catch, the insurance won’t pay out will they.’

  Tom frowned. ‘You’re right, Sash, but if Griffiths is involved and he is to the tune of a hundred thousand pounds, then we need to question him. Come on Terry, let’s go.’

  ‘What about me and Hamid?’ Sasha asked.

  ‘Hamid needs to speak to Rana and make contact with Nicholls. I’d like you to find out all you can about Tyler Smith and see what else you can get on McLeesh and Clement or any other disappointed or disgruntled customers.’

  They were in a back street off a side street, a short distance from the town centre. There were closed up shops amongst blank-faced buildings, but one frontage was bright and welcoming. It read “Cash In Your Hand” in colourful bubble shaped letters with a cartoon hand piled with cash.

  ‘This is Griffiths’ place?’ Tom said.

  ‘Looks like it,’ Terry replied, ‘Jolly isn’t it.’

  ‘To entice in the people desperate to get some money in their pockets,’ Tom said. He pushed the door open. The interior was as warm and inviting as the window, with primary-coloured easy chairs against the side walls and cheerful posters advertising short term loans – £100 for a month with just £120 to repay. A chest high counter divided the room, with a glass window up to the ceiling. It looked somewhat defensive, Tom thought. Behind it sat a young woman in a smart red uniform, perfectly styled blonde hair and immaculate make-up. Tom advanced to the counter and held up his warrant card for her to see.

  ‘We’d like to see Mr Griffiths,’ he said.

  ‘Mr Griffiths isn’t here,’ she replied without a pause. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘We’re interested in a loan that Mr Griffiths made.’

  ‘You had better see our loan advisor, then. Mr Adams.’ She had hardly spoken the name when the door behind her opened and a man appeared. Tom thought immediately that he looked like a smooth operator, smart tailored suit, slicked back black hair, smooth complexion, a look unlikely to be matched by his customers.

  ‘What is it Mel?’ he said looking at the woman and then at Tom and Terry.

  ‘These policemen wanted to see Mr Griffiths about a loan, Mr Adams.’

  ‘Ah, you’d better come through guys.’ He moved to the side and leaned down. There were a number of clicks and thumps before part of the counter and window moved to allow Tom and Terry to enter. They followed Adams into a back room, which was decorated much more sparsely with a desk and a couple of office chairs.

  ‘How can I help,’ Adams said pointing to the chairs. Tom ignored the gesture and remained standing.

  ‘You provide payday loans?’ he asked.

  Adams nodded. ‘Short term loans to tide people over periods when they’re short of cash. We don’t call them payday loans.’

  ‘But they pay back a lot more than they borrowed out of their pay or benefits,’ Tom tried to keep his voice level but couldn’t avoid sounding judgemental.

  ‘Our rates are competitive.’

  ‘Twenty pounds interest on a hundred-pound loan for one month,’ Tom recited recalling what he had read. ‘That’s competitive? It’s a rate of a couple of hundred per cent.’

  ‘There’s an arrangement fee in there,’ Adams said, ‘But, it is comparable, lower even, than our competitors. We provide a service to people who need cash for basic things like food and heating, and rent.’

  ‘While making them even worse off.’

  Adams glowered. ‘Is this why you’re here – to make accusations about a legitimate business. We’re not doing anything illegal here.’

  Tom realised he had been getting diverted by his feelings. That wasn’t good for a detective.

  ‘No, we’re not here about what I suppose you’d call your small loans. We’re interested in a loan Mr Griffiths made to Evelyn Bunting. A pretty large loan in fact.’

  ‘We do offer bigger loans over a longer period, but I can’t give you any details.’

  ‘Oh, I think you can. You see Mr Bunting is dead and we think the loan he received from Mr Griffiths may have been a contributory factor.’

  Adams’ pale face became paler. ‘You mean he committed suicide?’

  ‘No, he was murdered. Now I want to know the terms of the loan and whether it was being repaid. I can demand your assistance you know.’

  The young man sat at his desk and hurriedly tapped keys on his laptop. ‘What was the name? Bunting?’

  Tom moved to stand behind him and looked down at the screen. ‘That’s right, Evelyn Bunting. He ran a shop called Molly’s in Thirsbury.’

  Adams fingers ran over the keyboard and very quickly a page appeared that Tom saw bore Evelyn’s name. There was a statement.

  Adams described what was on the screen. ‘Yes, he had a loan of £110,000 over three years. He’d made one monthly repayment of just over seven thousand pounds.’

  Tom leaned closer to read the small characters. ‘That was back in July. What about since then?’

  The loan salesman, also peered at the screen. ‘He doesn’t appear to have made any other repayments. He’s in arrears.’

  Tom straightened up. ‘I’m not surprised. Seven thou a month. I bet that’s more than Bunting’s takings in the shop.’

  ‘If he was defaulting on the loan, we would have been taking steps to recover our money,’ Adams said.

  ‘And what steps would those be?’ Tom asked.

  Adams looked scared as if he had realised what he was implicating himself in.

  ‘I couldn’t say. Mr Griffiths makes decisions about non-payers.’

  ‘I bet he does,’ Tom said, ‘But he’s not here – is that right or just a story that your receptionist is programmed to hand out?’

  Adams shook his head. ‘No, he’s not here. He doesn’t come in very often, but he expects me to send a daily report by email.’

  ‘We need to speak to him,’ Tom said. ‘Which of his properties is he using at the moment.’

  ‘I don’t know where he lives. I just contact him by email or mobile.’

  ‘Well, give me his email address and number a
nd we’ll get in touch with him.’

  Adams scribbled on a piece of notepaper and handed it to Tom.

  ‘And you can put in your daily report that we will see Mr Griffiths very soon. Come on Terry.’

  Tom and Terry left the young man visibly shaking in his chair. They nodded to the female receptionist in passing and left the loan shop. Terry paused on the pavement and brushed the arms of his jacket.

  ‘I feel grubby after meeting that slimy little snake,’ he said.

  Tom was surprised. Terry didn’t usually show much emotion.

  ‘I feel the same, Terry.’

  ‘Making a tidy living from other people’s misery,’ the DC went on, ‘I’ve been in this job long enough to know people who have had to take out loans from people like him and then struggle to repay the interest. I’d like to see all these payday outfits closed down.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but we have a particular loan to follow up this time. Let’s give Griffiths a call.’

  They returned to their car. Tom got out his phone and the scrap of paper Adams had given him. He tapped in the number. It rang for a few seconds before it was answered by a gruff voice.

  ‘Who is that?’

  ‘Mr Griffiths? Detective Inspector Shepherd speaking.’

  ‘Police?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Griffiths.’

  The voice become smoother, ‘How can I help you Detective Inspector.’

  ‘We’d like to speak to you about a loan you made.’

  ‘I’m not interested in the loans my company makes. That’s what I pay my employees to do.’

  ‘Yes, we’ve spoken to Mr Adams. This is quite a big loan and we believe that some repayments have not been made.’

  ‘Are you offering to act as my debt collectors now, Inspector?’

  ‘No Mr Griffiths, but we would like to talk to you about the loan you gave Evelyn Bunting.’

  There was silence for a few moments.

  ‘Ah. Mister or is it Mizz Bunting? I see. Well, you’d better come over.’

  ‘Where Mr Griffiths?’

  ‘My house.’ He rattled off an address outside Reading.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Griffiths. We’re on our way.’

  Tom ended the call and started the engine. ‘Let’s get there before he has much time to build his story.’

  They drove through the electrically operated gates and pulled up in front of a modern mansion with a mock-Palladian frontage.

  ‘Done alright for himself, hasn’t he,’ Terry Hopkins commented.

  Tom scowled, ‘A pity we’ve never been able to make anything on him stick. Perhaps this case will change that.’

  ‘Griffiths is slippery.’

  They got out of the car and approached the gleaming black front door. It opened before they reached it. They were confronted by a bald-headed man in a black suit and tie. From his bent nose and moth-eaten ears, his had not been a sedentary life.

  ‘Police?’ He growled. Tom and Terry flashed their cards. ‘Mr Griffiths is expecting you.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Tom said in a cheery voice. The servant or bodyguard, Tom thought the latter was probably a more accurate title, stood aside to let them in, closed the door behind them and then lead them into a large lounge. Griffiths was standing by a fireplace. Tom recognised him from previous meetings and photos that had appeared in crime files as well as newspaper reports. Griffiths was either a master-criminal or a generous benefactor depending on which you read.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ Griffiths opened his arms in welcome, revealing his sizeable paunch. ‘Can I offer you tea or coffee?’

  ‘No thank you,’ Tom replied, ‘We just want to ask you a few questions about Evelyn Bunting’s loan.’

  ‘Yes, so you said, and as I told you, I employ staff to look after my businesses.’

  ‘But you indicated that you know Evelyn and her gender confusion. You referred to her as “Mister or Mizz”.’

  ‘Yes, I do know about Evelyn Bunting and her business.’ Griffiths made the concession without appearing dismayed by it.

  ‘Perhaps because the loan is bigger than those normally agreed by your staff in the Reading shop.’

  ‘That is true, Detective Sergeant.’

  ‘Inspector.’

  ‘Ah, you’ve had a promotion since we last met.’

  Tom recalled that interview when they had attempted, and failed, to pin a human-trafficking case on Neville Griffiths. He hadn’t been so full of bonhomie on that occasion.

  ‘So, you agreed to the loan to Bunting?’ Tom persisted.

  ‘I allowed it.’ Griffiths nodded.

  ‘And when Bunting failed to keep up with the enormous repayments…’

  ‘Repayments are handled by my staff.’

  ‘But you knew that Evelyn was unable to keep up? How he ever expected to I don’t know.’

  ‘We have procedures for assisting clients who get into difficulty.’

  ‘And what measures do those procedures include?’

  Griffiths smiled. ‘We look for ways of helping the client repay the loan, perhaps by rescheduling payments.’

  ‘And if that proves impossible such as if the client doesn’t have any money or income?’

  ‘Are you suggesting that Evelyn Bunting’s business was in that state, Inspector?’

  ‘I believe that he had no way of meeting the huge monthly instalments you demanded of him.’

  Griffiths shrugged. ‘He signed the agreement.’

  Tom pressed on. ‘But what do you do to clients that can’t pay you back.’

  ‘We don’t do anything to them. We employ bailiffs to claim goods to the value of what is owed.’

  ‘I doubt that the contents of Molly’s came anywhere close to a hundred thousand pounds,’ Tom said.

  Griffiths shrugged. ‘Bunting may have had other possessions that would have served.’

  ‘Such as an insurance policy on the building.’

  ‘What are you suggesting, Inspector – that we would benefit from the misfortune of a fire at Evelyn Bunting’s premises?’

  ‘You heard about the fire, then, and of Evelyn Bunting’s death.’

  ‘It was on the local news,’ Griffiths said, ‘A sad business. I should point out that the death of a client makes it more difficult for us to recover the loan, so the fire and death of Evelyn Bunting is hardly of benefit to my business.’

  Tom was wary of accusing Griffiths of arson or murder as he would easily deny any involvement. ‘But prior to his death, you can’t tell me what steps you were taking to recover your money from Evelyn Bunting.’

  Griffiths spread his arms and shook his head, ‘No Inspector, I cannot. My staff were following the procedures I mentioned and had no need to involve me. Now, if you please, I do have other things to attend to.’ He gestured to the door.

  Tom realised that he had nothing more to ask, not without any evidence to back up his questioning.

  ‘Well, thank you Mr Griffiths for answering our questions.’

  Griffiths gave them a warm smile. ‘I am delighted to help the police with their enquiries in this sad case. Preston will show you out.’ The bent-nosed henchman had obviously been listening outside the door because he chose that precise moment to push it open and appear in the doorway.

  Tom put his foot down and accelerated through the gateway.

  ‘I’m glad to get out of there,’ he said, ‘I felt like James Bond in the villain’s lair.’

  Terry laughed. ‘Yeah, it was a bit like that. I bet there were a few more like Preston in other rooms, waiting for the signal to spring into action.’

  ‘And all we did was alert Griffiths that we’re on to his involvement in Evelyn’s death.’

  ‘Oh, I think you did more than that, boss.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I was watching him carefully. Although he appeared to be very relaxed there was a lot of control there. Fat oaf that he is, his muscles were tense and when you mentioned fire insurance, his eyelids blinked twice.’

  �
�You think that means he was involved, Terry?’

  ‘In an insurance scam – yes.’

  ‘But as he said. Having Evelyn killed separately to the fire doesn’t help him at all.’

  ‘No, and that was why he was desperate to disassociate himself from Bunting’s death.’

  ‘Hmm. So, the fire and the murder are two separate incidents.’

  ‘Still looks like it, boss.’

  ‘Stop calling me boss, Terry. Sloane’s the boss. I’m still Tom Shepherd, even if I am technically your senior officer now.’

  ‘DCI Sloane is hardly ever out on the ground these days. You’re the guv’nor on this case, Tom.’

  11

  THURSDAY 17th OCTOBER

  EVENING

  Jasmine stepped out of the Audi and onto her high heels. She felt a bit unsteady; it had been a while since she’d worn them. It had been a while too since she had dressed up to go out. This evening was exciting, and it wasn’t only because she was out with Viv for the first time since she became a real woman. The investigation added to it.

  Viv came around the car to her and offered his hand. She took it gratefully, not just to steady her on her feet, but because it was offered. It was a sign that they were a couple, herself and her partner. When she had split from Angela she had thought she would never have someone else to call “partner” and had never dared to hope that such a person would be a man that fancied her sexually.

  Viv had been eager to take up her suggestion of an evening out with dinner, even when she admitted that it had a connection to the current investigation. He had said he was pleased that she was getting back to full fitness and was proud of her as his companion. He didn’t grumble too much about being her stooge while she indulged in a little detecting.

  They were welcomed into the Royal Hotel dining room by a small, thin waiter who spoke with a French accent. Jasmine couldn’t decide whether it was genuine or not. The room was not busy, so there was plenty of room between the diners. The heavy curtains at the windows and the thick carpet ensured that they wouldn’t be overheard in their conversation. The waiter brought the menus. Jasmine decided to make a start straight away – on the investigating.