by P R Ellis
‘Why was that?’ Jasmine asked.
‘Er, she, paid by credit card but it was in the name of a man. It had “Mr” on it.’
‘But you still accepted it?’ Jasmine pressed.
‘Well, yes, I could see it was really a man dressed in – what is it – drag. And as they were friends of Mrs Bunting I thought it would be alright.’
‘I’ll need details of the transaction,’ Hamid said.
The receptionist turned pink. ‘Oh, was I wrong to accept it. Will it be refused?’
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ Hamid said.
‘Dressing as a woman doesn’t make a man’s card invalid,’ Jasmine said, a little more stridently than she intended. The woman flustered as she searched for the credit card details.
‘Did these two guests leave after dinner?’ Jasmine asked.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ the women said shakily and then her voice became surer. ‘No, I know they didn’t. I think they went up to Mrs Bunting’s room. They left later, some hours later.’
‘How do you know?’ Jasmine asked.
‘Because they came to the desk, well, the man did, the one dressed as a man, and he paid for the room.’
Jasmine’s voice showed her surprise. ‘He paid Mrs Bunting’s and Mr Smith’s bed and breakfast?’
‘That’s right. The whole bill.’
‘I think we’ll need details of that transaction too,’ Hamid said.
‘Yes, of course.’ The woman got busy.
‘Which room did they stay in?’ Jasmine asked.
The woman’s eyes scanned the screen. ‘One-oh-one. On the first floor. It’s our largest bedroom apart from the suites on the second floor.’
‘Can we have a look at it?’ Jasmine asked.
The receptionist appeared overloaded with requests for a moment and then recovered. ‘Yes, last night’s guests have checked out. You can go up. Let me get you a key.’ She tapped the keyboard some more and collected a plastic keycard as it emerged from a machine. She passed it to Hamid.
‘You’ll have those transaction details for us when we come down?’ he said. The woman nodded eagerly.
Hamid and Jasmine climbed the grand central stairs together.
‘What’s going on?’ Hamid asked, ‘Why are these people paying Mrs Bunting’s bills – the food and the room?’
‘She seems to have a knack of getting things for free, like the house she’s moved into.’
They reached the first-floor landing and walked across the thick carpet to the door to room 101. It was open. Inside Jasmine could see a maid working, surrounded by a pile of discarded bedding. Hamid and Jasmine stepped inside. She let out a silent whistle. It was a big room. The centre was occupied by a bigger than king-size, four poster bed, but it did not overwhelm the high-ceilinged room. There was space around it for a cluster of easy chairs, with a wardrobe, desk, bedside tables, and cabinet with drinks glasses alongside a sizeable fridge and still there was plenty of empty floorspace, lavishly carpeted.
‘I wouldn’t mind staying in a room like this,’ Jasmine said.
‘Me too,’ Hamid said, ‘but I couldn’t afford it on my police salary.’
‘Nor me. It was quite a bill that Harriet’s guest picked up.’
Hamid approached the olive-skinned maid who had frozen and looked bemused. Again, he waved his card. She still looked confused.
‘We’re police,’ Hamid said slowly. The girl nodded.
‘Do you do this room every day?’ Jasmine asked. The girl stared, shook her head, shrugged, flapped her hands.
‘She doesn’t speak much English,’ Hamid said. He spoke in a foreign language. The girl’s eyes widened then she spoke in reply. After a short exchange during which the girl briefly became bashful, Hamid turned to Jasmine.
‘She’s from Libya. Speaks Arabic. It’s not my first language but I can get by.’
‘What did she say?’ Jasmine asked.
‘Yes, she does do this room most if not all days. I presume the hotel gives her a day off each week.’
Jasmine was quick to add. ‘I hope so otherwise we’ll be asking some questions about their treatment of migrant workers.’
‘Yes, anyway she recalls the older woman and young man who occupied this room on Tuesday night. She is a bit embarrassed but apparently the bedding was well-stained.’
‘Um, bodily fluids.’
‘I think that’s the story.’
‘So, Harriet and Tyler went at it.’
Now it was Hamid’s turn to be embarrassed.
‘Anything else?’ Jasmine asked.
Hamid shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Quite a lot of booze from the fridge had been used.’
‘There were four of them here after dinner.’
Hamid nodded, ‘But there’s nothing else she can recall at all out of the ordinary.’
Jasmine took a turn around the room, looked out of the wide windows at the town and peered into the large ensuite bathroom.
‘I don’t suppose we’re going to find anything here after three days,’ she said, ‘I guess she does a good job of cleaning after each set of guests.’
Hamid spoke again to the maid and she replied.
‘That’s right,’ he said, ‘Each room is given a thorough clean when it is vacated.’
‘Well, let’s go,’ Jasmine said heading towards the door, ‘Let’s see if that woman downstairs has the names of the other two guests for us.’
Hamid followed her after bowing to the maid and speaking again in Arabic.
Hamid pulled up outside Jasmine’s house.
Jasmine opened the door and paused. ‘You’ll find out all you can on those two guests and let me know as soon as you can?’
‘Yes, I will,’ Hamid replied.
‘Good. Thanks for the lift.’ Jasmine got out and pushed the door closed. The car pulled away and she turned to hurry into the house. It was lunchtime and there were things to be done.
13
FRIDAY 18th OCTOBER
MORNING
Tom watched Hamid leave to pick up Jasmine, then wandered to Terry’s desk.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he began.
‘That’s dangerous, boss,’ Terry said with a chuckle.
‘I told you, none of this “boss” thing. I was thinking about what we learned from Griffiths yesterday.’
Terry nodded, ‘What did we learn?’
‘I’m sure there’s something in this insurance scam between Bunting and Griffiths. If Griffiths was pushing for some or all the loan to be repaid and with Molly’s in poor shape, then Bunting may have seen burning the place down and claiming the fire insurance as the only way out.’
‘I’ll go along with that,’ Terry said.
‘We need some evidence of collusion – emails, phone messages between Bunting and Griffiths or his employees.’
‘Nothing’s come to light yet.’
‘Not from Bunting’s end. Perhaps he didn’t use his own phone or computer to make the contact.’
Terry nodded, ‘That would be sensible of him.’
‘Of course, Neville Griffiths himself wouldn’t have made the contact. He wouldn’t want any records of conspiracy to defraud in his name.’
‘Definitely not.’
‘So, we have to get at Griffiths’ people.’
‘The heavies he used to recover bad debts?’ Terry looked doubtful, ‘But as Griffiths pointed out, having Bunting die at the scene complicates matters. He would have wanted a nice clean fire, with no casualties, so Bunting could claim on his insurance and hand over the cash.’
Tom stuck with his idea. ‘Perhaps that was the plan, and something went wrong. Maybe Bunting had second thoughts at the last moment and Griffiths’ men got angry.’
Terry considered while various expressions passed across his face. ‘It could have happened like that.’
‘I think we need to speak to young Wayne again and find out who Griffiths entrusts the debt collecting to.’
‘
If he knows.’
‘I can’t believe that Neville Griffiths wants to be associated with the business of threatening debtors to hand over their possessions. Wayne will have a contact I’m sure. Let’s go and have another chat to him.’
This time there was a customer in the loan shop. A small woman in a cheap, worn coat peered over the high counter. Mel was speaking to her but looked up as Tom and Terry entered. She frowned.
‘We’d like to speak to Wayne again, please,’ Tom said. He had barely got the words out when the door behind the counter opened and Wayne appeared. With his hair slightly less smooth than previously and his eyes darting from side to side he had apparently expected an emergency of some description.
‘Why did you press the panic button, Mel? Oh, hello, officers.’
Tom gave him a broad smile. ‘Good morning, Mr Adams. Could we have another chat, do you think.’
‘Oh, yeah, okay.’
Again, he went through the process of unlocking the door in the counter to let them through and usher Tom and Terry to his office. Wayne sat at his desk and glanced at his computer screen. He reached out to turn it off.
‘No, don’t do that,’ Tom said, ‘You may need it in a minute.’ He stood by Wayne’s side so that he could see the screen. There was a list of names on it. Tom didn’t look at them closely.
Wayne looked up at Terry and Tom.
‘What else can I tell you? I thought I answered all your questions yesterday.’
‘You did,’ Terry said, ‘but we’ve thought of some more.’
‘Yes,’ Tom added, ‘We had a talk with your boss, Mr Griffiths, and it seems he has more faith in you than you suggested to us yesterday. You said that Mr Griffiths follows up non-payers, but he said you have a procedure to follow in those cases.
Wayne’s pale skin became paler. ‘Uh, there is a procedure.’
Tom leaned down to the young man. ‘What is it?’
‘I give the details of defaulters to the head of the collection team.’
‘When?’
‘He calls in most days at about eleven’
‘He comes here?’
Wayne nodded. Tom looked at his watch. It was just after ten-thirty.
‘Did you follow this procedure when Evelyn Bunting failed to make his second monthly payment?’
Wayne shook his head. ‘No, I told you before. I don’t have responsibility for the big loans. That’s what I meant yesterday. Mr Griffiths would have instructed the collection team in Mr Bunting’s case. It was nothing to do with me.’
Terry responded, ‘Ah, that’s lucky for you isn’t it, young fella.’
‘Do you have a phone number or email for this debt collector.’
Wayne shook his head. ‘Mr Griffiths doesn’t like there to be any record of our contact.’
‘Probably a good precaution,’ Tom said. ‘Looks like we’ll have to wait for the guy.’
Terry asked, ‘Does he come through the shop or is there another entrance?’
Wayne nodded to the back of the building. ‘There’s a lane and parking at the back. That’s the way he comes in.’
‘We don’t want to both be in here when he arrives,’ Tom said. ‘You go out the back, Terry and keep out of sight until he comes. Once he’s inside the building you come in.’
‘Right,’ Terry hurried out of the office. Tom sat on one of the chairs opposite the young manager and eyed up the coffee making facilities in the corner of the room. Wayne took the hint and offered Tom a drink. He spooned out the coffee. poured the kettle and returned with two steaming mugs.
Tom blew on the surface of his coffee and took a sip.
‘Do you enjoy your job, Wayne?’
The young man shrugged, ‘Yeah, the pay’s alright.’
‘You and Mel get on?’
‘Yeah, she’s a nice girl.’
‘Neither of you mind taking money off people who can’t afford it?’
Wayne’s face reddened. ‘They come to us. They don’t have to take out loans.’
‘Don’t they?’ Tom queried. ‘At the end of the month when money has run out and perhaps the landlord is demanding the rent, or there’s no food to feed the kids, they’re looking for some cash to tie them over.’
Wayne nodded.
‘So, you lend them the cash, and they’re grateful to you, but they’ve not figured on the swingeing interest you’re charging them which means that next month they’re even worse off.’
‘It’s all legal,’ Wayne complained.
‘For now,’ Tom said. ‘but is it ethical?’
‘They have a choice. They don’t have to take our loans.’
‘No, they can go to any one of the other loan sharks out there. Do you know what happens to the people if they don’t make the repayments?’
Wayne shook his head. ‘I’ve told you that’s not my job. The collection team look after those people.’
‘That’s nice for you isn’t it. You never have to see the results of being heavily in debt.’
Wayne turned away so that Tom couldn’t see his face. Tom hoped he was reconsidering the morals of his job. They sat silently as the hands on his watch approached eleven o’clock.
A door slammed and footsteps came along the corridor from the back door. The office door swung open and a figure appeared. He stopped and stared.
Tom recognised him. He was the short, bald man who had let them into Griffiths’ house.
Tom stood up. ‘Ah, Neville Griffiths’ doorman. I might have expected he’d have you on this job.’
‘What yer doing here?’
‘Waiting for you, in fact. I’m interested to see that your procedure for dealing with non-payers of loans gets off to an efficient start.’
‘What d’yer mean?’
‘Your daily call to pick up business.’
Baldy glared at Wayne. ‘You told him I was coming?’
Wayne nodded and avoided Baldy’s eyes.
‘Now I’d like your name please,’ Tom said, taking out his notebook and pen.
He looked as though he was contemplating refusing the request but thought better of it.
‘Elvis Preston.’Tom’s eyebrows rose. ‘Don’t say anything. My mother was a fan.’
Tom suppressed a giggle. ‘You’re employed by Neville Griffiths. What is your position?’
Preston shrugged, ‘General duties, debt collector, bailiff, bodyguard, whatever he needs. Why’re you interested?’
Tom composed a reply. ‘I’m sure you are aware from our visit to Mr Griffiths yesterday that we are investigating the death of Evelyn Bunting and the fire at his premises, Molly’s.’
‘Yeah. So what?’
‘Given your position in Mr Griffiths’ business you must know that Evelyn Bunting took out a large loan and that he failed to keep up the payments.’
Preston glowered at Tom without giving a hint of an affirmative or negative.
Tom had to ask the question. ‘In your capacity as debt collector did you pay a visit to Mr Bunting.’
‘Yeah. I did.’
‘When was that?’
‘Can’t remember. A few weeks ago.’
‘You don’t keep a record of your meetings with clients.’
Preston shrugged. ‘Not necessary. They pay up.’
‘Did Evelyn Bunting pay up after your call?
Preston didn’t answer.
‘Did he?’ Tom repeated.
‘I ’aven’t looked at the accounts.’ Preston said.
Tom expressed disbelief. ‘A loan of over a hundred thousand pounds not being repaid and you don’t know what was happening? Come on, Elvis, you can do better than that.’
Preston’s face grew red and his fists clenched. ‘Mr Griffiths did not give me any instructions to extract a payment from Bunting.’
‘And why do you think that was?’
Preston shrugged. ‘Mr Griffiths did not tell me; ’ad his reasons no doubt.’
‘Could it be because Evelyn Bunting agreed to hand over
the proceeds from his insurance should his premises catch fire?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Preston said.
‘You didn’t pay another visit to Molly’s?’
‘No.’
Tom examined Preston’s face but could see no sign of doubt or weakening.
‘Well, we know how to get in touch with you, Elvis, so we may have more questions for you.’
Tom slipped past Preston and headed towards the rear entrance of the shop. He exited into a small yard where a Mercedes was parked. Terry was leaning against the driver’s door. He straightened up as Tom approached.
‘Sorry I didn’t follow the other fella in. Thought I’d ask this guy a few questions.’
Tom looked through the windscreen at the driver. He was dark, with a beard and glared back at Tom.
‘Who is he?’
Terry answered. ‘He hasn’t got much English. Gave the name Karol Bednarz. From Poland. Took a while to get that much. Claimed he couldn’t understand me.’
‘I presume he understands Preston enough to put pressure on debtors. Did you ask him about Bunting?’
‘Yes. He denied knowing the name, so I described him – bloke in dress. He remembered then. Says they paid a visit to Molly’s a few weeks ago.’
‘That’s what Preston says but can’t say exactly when.’
Terry looked doubtful. ‘They can’t have left it at one visit since Bunting didn’t cough up.’
‘Unless there was another plan…’ Tom left the implication hanging. He urged Terry to follow him out of the yard. ‘These guys know we’ve got our eye on them now. Let’s leave them to stew. I’d like you to follow them for a while. So you take the car.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’ll head to the station here and get a lift back to Kintbridge. It’s about time we tracked down Gary Nicholls.’
They reached the car. Terry got in, started up and drove around the block to watch the lane. Tom headed towards the town centre and the police station. He had some thinking and planning to do.
14
FRIDAY 18th OCTOBER
AFTERNOON
After a bit of lunch and a spot of relaxation – how long would it take to get her youthful energy back – Jasmine was ready to continue. But what could she do without transport? She called Viv. Unusually he answered.