Paying the Ferryman

by Jane A. Adams

  Sarah nodded. ‘Yes, but it’s all kind of confused, you know. They were talking about something, planning something, I think. Some kind of theft. My dad said that the man should go.’

  Stacy fed coins into the vending machine and bought them both chocolate. The flimsy cups were hot as she carried them back to Stacy’s room.

  ‘The man went and I looked out of the kitchen window – which was silly, because the kitchen was at the back and he’d gone out of the front door. But he heard me. My dad, I mean. He heard me and he came into the kitchen yelling and threatening and I hid under the table because I couldn’t get out of the back door.’

  ‘Did it upset you? The dream?’

  Sarah perched on the side of the bed and Stacy put the chocolate cups down. ‘Careful, it’s very hot.’

  ‘Sort of,’ she said. ‘I used to dream about him all the time. I used to dream real things about him. Memories all mixed up with bad things in my dreams. Mum used to tell me that the things I dreamed never happened. She used to tell me it was all imagination.’

  ‘And what do you think? Do you think you dreamed of real things?’

  Sarah hesitated before she replied. ‘I used to believe her,’ she said. ‘She’d kind of made me believe that when I dreamed about him it was just because I was worried, you know. But I keep thinking about it now. I keep wondering. It was like she wanted me to think I couldn’t remember anything right. That everything about him was different to what I thought.’

  ‘But he was violent. You know that.’

  ‘She never tried to tell me that he wasn’t. It was the things he argued about, not with her but with other people. No one takes much notice of little kids. If he saw me he’d tell me to get out. Sometimes I just hid in the other room. Sometimes I listened near the windows.’

  ‘Can you remember any of those things?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe I just think I remember, you know?’

  Stacy nodded. ‘I could get you some paper and you could try to write things down,’ she said.

  Sarah thought about it and then nodded. ‘I suppose it’s something to do,’ she said.

  FIFTY-ONE

  Steel arrived at the Dog just after four. He discovered that they had a visitor already. The man sitting with them in the snug was a little older than the Friedmans, with close- cropped sandy hair and pale eyes. His face was lined and tanned, suggesting a life spent outside. They introduced him as Gregory and Steel got the impression that Naomi was not totally comfortable with Steel meeting him. From the paperwork spread out on the table and the computer set up on a nearby stool, Steel guessed that this might be the informant they had mentioned. He was a little reticent of speaking in front of this stranger. Gregory, Steel noted, said very little. He was watchful, wary even. Steel wondered about him but he departed soon after Steel arrived, and Alec lost no time in telling him what they had discovered since they had spoken last.

  ‘We know that Marcus Karadzic worked for the Winslow Trust,’ Alec said.

  ‘Did he now?’

  ‘What we don’t know is why he left or even why he went to work for them in the first place. He had no need to. Unless he was trying to emulate Madeleine Jeffries and break away from the family business.’

  Steel listened while they told him what they knew about Maxwell, Clarke and Roper and their various levels of business. It chimed with what Madeleine Jeffries had told him earlier that day.

  ‘And we’ve turned up something interesting about a possible business deal between the Vitellis and the Baldwins,’ Naomi added. ‘It seems they both have an interest in a property in Brighton. The fact that they are working together on some project or other is suggestive, don’t you think?’

  ‘And you have this information from where?’

  ‘Sorry, can’t tell you,’ Alec said.

  Alec handed Steel a copy of the paperwork Gregory had removed from Roddy Baldwin’s study. Steel flicked through it, puzzled. The significance dawning. ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘I said, I can’t tell you.’

  ‘That’s very close to obstruction, Alec.’

  ‘Giving you information is assistance, not obstruction,’ Alec said. ‘Steel, take what’s on offer. Check it out. You want to solve this. The rest is all academic.’

  ‘Is it?’

  Alec ignored the question. ‘The house is apparently semi derelict, but potentially worth a hell of a lot. But I wonder if that was the only motive. It’s worth looking at, surely?’

  Steel nodded. ‘Perhaps,’ he agreed.

  ‘Anything on the list of numbers yet?’ Naomi asked.

  ‘Not yet, but we’re working on it. Alec, Naomi, your friend Gregory—’

  ‘Is just a friend,’ Naomi told him.

  Dissatisfied, Steel made his way back to the incident room carrying the papers that the Friedmans had given him. Once there he asked one of the team to check out the Land Registry for the Brighton house.

  Sophie came over to give him an update and found him pensive.

  ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘Only that the Friedmans seem to have access to better intelligence than we do.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Ah what?’

  Sophie looked a little shame faced. ‘I kind of checked them out a bit,’ she said. ‘I was curious, you know. I could understand Naomi having to leave the force, obviously. But Alec … I remembered hearing something about him. Some kind of disciplinary stuff.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘No, it was all dismissed, but he’s got connections in some odd places. He’s been brought in as consultant a couple of times before this, but when I tried poking about I hit a bit of a wall.’

  ‘What kind of wall?’

  ‘The kind that says I don’t have clearance,’ she said. ‘I can dump the stuff I found to your computer, if you like.’

  ‘Do that,’ Steel said. Another door slammed in his face, he thought. He indicated the paperwork on his desk. ‘This lot just came from them,’ he said. ‘Sophie, I want you to go through it with me, then we’ll see what needs further attention. These are all copies and I’m not sure I can ever prove it, but I suspect the originals were all obtained from Roddy Baldwin.’

  ‘Interesting.’ She eyed the small stack of paper warily. ‘How?’

  ‘One of their contacts. I sort of met him today. At least I think I did.’

  ‘Sounds like the man who wasn’t there,’ Sophie laughed. ‘You know, the nursery rhyme. You don’t think he had anything to do with Roddy Baldwin’s death?’

  Steel shrugged, not entirely sure he was ready to know that just now. ‘So what do you have to tell me?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, a few interesting bits. Our colleagues in Nottingham tracked down Josette Harris, the woman who called wanting news on Sarah?’

  ‘And who Madeleine Jeffries is sure was involved with Roddy, and possibly Terry.’ Steel nodded. ‘And?’

  ‘And nothing. She denies hearing from Terry in years, says she was nothing to him anyway, and stuck to her story about being friends with Thea.’

  Steel nodded. He had expected nothing else.

  ‘Then there’s the financial records for the Griffins. All very normal: the only money going into Lisanne’s account was her wages from the surgery and child benefit for the kids. Victor Griffin had an account too; his wages went in, and there’s the odd small payment in cash and cheques, but nothing suspicious. Apparently he did a bit of IT support on the side. Then they had a joint account for housekeeping and bills. They both paid into that each month. They seem very organized,’ she added. ‘Wish I was. But there’s one anomaly. When they moved here, they bought the house for cash.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Certain. One of our lot traipsed around local estate agents finding out who’d sold the place. They remembered the Griffins, especially with recent events bringing it all back to mind. Stow and Walton,’ she added, checking her notes. ‘They went back through their records and the Griffins definitely bo
ught for cash. They did a BACS transfer, but get this: there’s an IBAN number attached to the code the money came from. It wasn’t from a British bank.’

  Steel sat forward. ‘And the estate agents, they didn’t think that odd?’

  ‘I imagine they were just thinking about the sale. They thought they remembered that the Griffins had sold a house abroad and just moved back to the UK; all the transactions were smooth, so …’

  Steel nodded. ‘So where did the money come from? How much was the sale for?’

  ‘A hundred and fifty thousand pounds. It had been on the market for a bit less than that, and that’s top end for round here three or four years ago. The housing market’s taken a right battering and Ferrymouth isn’t exactly commuter belt. Apparently there were other couples after it, but the Griffins offered cash. Above the asking price. I don’t imagine the vendors hesitated for long.’

  Steel nodded. ‘Our view of the Griffins is subtly changing, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Sophie, I want you to go and tackle the Winslow Trust again; see if Naomi wants to go along for the ride. I don’t care who you talk to, or how long you have to spend on their doorstep, but I want detail on what Victor Griffin, aka Marcus Karadzic, did for them and why he was dismissed.’

  News came in from the hospital a little after that. It wasn’t good. Joey was showing no signs of improvement; if anything his condition had destabilized. Steel called Stacy, warning her that there might be more bad news to break.

  ‘Maggie and Tel are here,’ she said. ‘Maggie made Tel bring some homework in, which, actually, I now think was inspired. Sarah’s helping Tel with his French comprehension and they’re both managing to escape into normality for a while.’

  ‘She’s an unusual woman,’ Steel said. Her husband is definitely a bloody fool, he thought. ‘I’ll be along later. You want someone to relieve you?’

  ‘Tonight would be nice. I’m missing my bed and the cat thinks I’ve left home.’

  Steel promised he would sort something out and rang off.

  There had been a few more sightings of a man that might be Hughes, but nothing more than that. The irony of it is, Steel thought, that there are more police in Ferrymouth than the place has seen in probably the past thirty years and none of us have got time to look for one murderer because we’re too busy looking for another.

  He decided he would shift his priorities. Instinct told him that the Griffin case was falling from his grasp, the field of play getting steadily larger and more remote from his patch. Hughes, on the other hand – always supposing he hadn’t run – was a known quantity, a local who could be recognized.

  That settled, Steel took himself off to speak once more to Lisanne’s neighbours, in the probably vain hope that, now Ricky Lang had been identified, someone might remember something more about the other man who had called on the Griffins in the days before their murder.

  FIFTY-TWO

  Gregory returned to the Dog in time for dinner. ‘I’ve brought you a phone number,’ he said. ‘Did Steel want to know who I was?’

  ‘We told him you were a friend,’ Alec said. ‘I doubt he’s satisfied, he’s too good a policeman to be satisfied with any of this. But it’ll have to do.’

  ‘What number?’ Naomi asked.

  ‘The private line of Mr Alphonso Vitelli. I pulled a few strings,’ he added. ‘The rumour is the Vitellis are being blamed for Baldwin’s death. They in their turn are making accusations about double dealing. They don’t yet seem to realize that Victor Griffin was one of theirs. The Met don’t appear to have passed the message on.’

  ‘But Roddy Baldwin knew. Terry knew. And it’s standard practice to inform next of kin.’

  ‘Interesting, yes? I’m beginning to think that Roddy Baldwin had more fingers in this pie than we first thought. And talking about pie …’

  Gregory looked up expectantly as Douggie and one of his bar staff came into the snug carrying trays.

  ‘I assumed you’d show up,’ Douggie told Gregory sternly. ‘So I served up an extra plate.’

  Gregory thanked him solemnly, told him it looked good. Douggie seemed mollified if not exactly approving. ‘Everything all right?’ he asked Alec.

  ‘It’s all fine, thanks, Douggie. You’ve made us very welcome.’

  The look the landlord shot Gregory brought that into a bit of doubt.

  ‘And so, this number,’ Naomi said when the landlord had gone. ‘Why should I call Alphonso Vitelli?’

  ‘Because he should know what happened to his grandson,’ Gregory said. ‘Because it’s time all sides knew where they stand. Because, I’m guessing, the Vitellis hold the rest of the cards in play. Because you met the man and he’ll remember you.’

  Naomi shook her head. ‘Why would he? It was years ago. I was just one of the makeweights sent to an event. I was a nobody.’

  ‘He’ll remember,’ Gregory predicted. ‘Not many cops came to his parties and I’ll bet there were none as pretty as Naomi Blake.’

  ‘Gregory!’

  Alec laughed at her response. ‘Are you flirting with my wife?’

  ‘I don’t flirt,’ he said. ‘But you’ll admit I have a point?’

  They ate in silence for a few minutes while Naomi thought about it. They had spoken briefly to Steel earlier and Naomi, unable really to back off, had called an old friend in the Met and asked a few direct questions about the state of play down there. It wasn’t that she doubted Steel’s intention to pass their information on, just that she wasn’t sure if he’d frame it with sufficient urgency. She was told it was looking tense, that it felt as if everyone was holding their breath.

  ‘I’ll call him,’ she said. ‘But I don’t know what good it will do. What should I say?’

  For a while they discussed it, knowing that even if they got directly through to old Alphonso he was unlikely to take the call himself. In the final analysis they decided to go with Gregory’s original suggestion. Just after seven fifteen Naomi called the number he had obtained from Nathan.

  ‘Tell him,’ Naomi said, ‘that we met once, about seven years ago, at a charity ball. That my name was then Naomi Blake and that I’d just been made detective inspector. Tell him I know what happened to his grandson, Marcus Karadzic. That I’m sorry to say that Marcus is now dead.’

  At Gregory’s insistence she left his number and not hers.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘What now?’

  ‘Now we wait. They’ll check you out, see if you’re worth contacting, and when they realize you are someone will call back.’

  FIFTY-THREE

  The following morning Steel called at the hospital before going to the incident room.

  Sarah was trying hard to be upbeat. Stacy had been down to the unit which housed Joey and he seemed to have rallied a little.

  ‘He’s going to be all right,’ Sarah told Steel with as much conviction as she could muster.

  ‘I hope so,’ he said. ‘I really do.’

  She seemed to have lost a lot of weight, he thought, despite Stacy feeding her hot chocolate and pizza and anything else she could tempt the girl with. Dark circles were a permanent feature beneath her eyes and her hair, always carefully maintained in the pictures he had seen of her, looked unkempt and dull.

  ‘You need some fresh air.’ He smiled at her, trying to sound positive and normal.

  ‘I need everything to be a week ago,’ she said. ‘And for us all to be somewhere else.’

  He checked in with the high dependency unit. Yes, Joey had seemed a little better, but the change was not sufficient for any real optimism.

  ‘All we can do is wait,’ Steel was told. They asked him again if Joey had other family, and Steel was forced to tell them that he still didn’t know. There had been nothing at the house that did not relate just to Hughes and Joey’s mother. No family photographs, no Christmas cards with a convenient address written on the back. Neither Maggie nor Sarah could recall Joey talking about trips to aunts or uncles or grandparents, or even mentioning them in passing.
Joey had been as cut off from his family’s past as Sarah had from hers. Steel guessed that this was another thing that had drawn them to one another.

  Returning to the incident room, he found that Sophie had news for him. The Land Registry search had been fruitful.

  ‘The house had been through a lot of changes,’ she told him, ‘But about ten years ago it was rented by the Winslow Trust. The building was sold shortly after to Mr Thomas Vitelli and Mr Roddy Baldwin – who became the Trust’s new landlords. It was in a poor state even then, but the Trust used the bottom two floors as offices and sublet the middle one to students. The small suite of rooms on the top floor – well, it looks as though they used it as emergency accommodation from time to time. And guess who worked there?’

  ‘Marcus Karadzic. Our man Victor Griffin.’

  She nodded. ‘A warrant has been served – the Trust lease ran out and they didn’t renew. It’s been empty since, boarded up and left – so there’ll be a search of the place later this morning with a bit of luck. Sounds like they are waiting for structural engineers to go in and declare the place safe first.’

  ‘Good.’ Steel nodded. Maybe things were moving. ‘You’re off to the Trust this morning?’

  ‘Yes, taking Naomi. I’m picking her up in half an hour. That Julia woman talked mainly to her last time. She barely looked at me.’

  He went through to his office and dragged the phone across the desk. His arm was hurting this morning, burning and stinging, and he suspected a slight infection. Maybe he’d call on Dr Pauley later, get the medic to patch him up properly. It wasn’t easy to manage one handed. He called Vic Griffin’s old employers; something Sophie had told him the day before had been nagging at his mind. She’d said that Vic Griffin did some IT stuff on the side. What did he do and how good was he?

  He spoke to the manager of the agricultural supply company Vic Griffin had worked for, and was then handed over to a couple of Vic’s colleagues. By the time he had finished his conversations, he had his answer. Vic Griffin was very good indeed. He’d single-handedly redesigned the ordering system at work, streamlining the process and updating their spreadsheets and databases so that anyone in the company could access straightforward menus with a couple of key strokes.