The Altered Case

by Peter Turnbull

  ‘Whose brother-in-law?’

  ‘Gerald Parr’s brother-in-law, chap yclept Verity. He collected Parr’s possessions from the police station in York when they had been reported as missing persons. Anyway, he settled money on Nigel following the sale of Parr’s property and it was sufficient for Nigel to buy a modest two bedroomed conversion, also in Camden.’

  Yellich and Webster watched the colour drain from Hillyard’s face.

  ‘We visited him this afternoon,’ Yellich explained slowly, ‘tracked him down. It wasn’t difficult because he’d kept the Parr surname rather than reverting to his own.’

  ‘He was in the phone book,’ Webster added.

  ‘Yes, we visited him prior to calling on Oldfield and Fairly, meeting Mr Tipton and then your good self,’ Yellich continued. ‘One contact led to another for us today.’

  Hillyard’s head sank forward. He glanced up at Yellich and then at Webster. ‘I did wonder what had become of young Nigel Parr, but I can tell you that he didn’t receive any money from Gerald Parr’s brother-in-law following the sale of the Parrs’ property.’

  ‘No?’ Yellich and Webster both sat forward, their interest raised.

  ‘No, Elizabeth Parr didn’t have a brother. Both Gerald and Elizabeth were only children, neither of them had any siblings, their children grew up without anyone to call aunt or uncle.’

  Again Yellich and Webster glanced at each other. ‘But the house sale,’ Yellich asked, ‘that must have happened?’

  ‘Yes, it did. Gerald and Elizabeth made wills and asked Oldfield and Fairly to accept power of attorney and act as executors in the event of a common calamity; that is, if, for example, both Gerald and Elizabeth were to lose their lives at the same time . . . a car crash, for example.’

  ‘Yes . . . yes,’ Yellich replied.

  ‘So after two years they were officially deemed deceased, along with the beneficiaries of their will . . . or wills . . . being their two daughters . . . then Oldfield and Fairly liquidated everything, cleared the house and sold the contents, then sold the property . . . and the money in question is still gathering interest in a trust fund administered by Oldfield and Fairly, where it will remain until a lawful claimant presents themselves.’ Hillyard paused. ‘So wherever Nigel Parr got the money to buy his little pad in Camden it did not come from the estate of Gerald and Elizabeth Parr.’

  Yellich reclined in his chair. ‘Now that is very interesting.’

  ‘Very interesting, indeed,’ Webster added. ‘When did you last see Nigel Parr?’

  ‘When Gerald and Elizabeth were still alive. By the time we accessed the property – we had to use bailiffs, then change the locks – Nigel had flown the coop. I assumed that he had been told he wasn’t going to inherit anything and had left to make his own way in life. I only ever gave him a passing thought after that.’

  Walking back to High Barnet tube station in the warm dusk, Webster said, ‘So, now what? Back to Camden and arrest Nigel Parr? He’s got some explaining to do methinks.’

  ‘Methinks likewise,’ Yellich replied. ‘But he’s not going anywhere. No, we return to York, and tomorrow we talk this over with the boss. Softly, softly, catchee monkey, that’s the trick, we must not go blundering into things.’

  ‘Softly, softly,’ Webster echoed, ‘suits me.’

  Later, much later that evening, Reginald Webster crept into his bedroom in his house on the outskirts of Selby. As he entered the room his wife levered herself up and groped for her watch.

  ‘Sorry, Joyce,’ he whispered, ‘didn’t mean to wake you.’

  ‘I was getting worried. I know you phoned and said you’d be late but I can’t help worrying.’ Joyce Webster lifted the glass cover from her watch and read the time with her fingertips. ‘So late.’

  ‘Yes.’ Webster let his clothes lay where they fell and slid into the bed beside her, folding his arms about her. ‘Rather later than I had anticipated but it was a very productive day . . . very useful.’

  It was Thursday, 01.35 hours.

  SIX

  Thursday, 09.45 hours – 16.45 hours

  in which Webster, accompanied by Ventnor, returns to the south of England, Carmen Pharoah silences a pub and the most courteous reader is introduced to George Hennessey’s pride and issue.

  Webster held his mug of tea in both hands. ‘Met a solicitor yesterday, worked for a firm, one of whom was called Fairly . . . A solicitor called “Fairly”!’

  ‘I can top that,’ Ventnor said above the laughter. ‘I met the wife of a solicitor called “Fleece”.’

  George Hennessey joined in the laughter. ‘A lawyer called “Fleece”, that I do like. But let’s get down to business; it seems to have been a very productive day yesterday, going by what I have heard.’ He glanced to his left out of the window of his office, his eye being caught by movement on the wall, and saw a group of brightly dressed tourists ambling along the battlements. He turned back to the group of CID officers. ‘So, who wants to kick off? Thomson, why don’t you start the ball rolling.’

  ‘Very good, boss.’ Thomson Ventnor leaned forwards. ‘Well, the Mrs Fleece I mentioned was a mate of Michelle Lemmon. It seems she was hitching a ride home with the Parr family, who were travelling to York to talk business with someone. She was returning home to patch things up with her parents. She appeared to have stayed with some other friend between the time of arriving in York and guiding the Parrs to their destination. Thus far that person has not come forward, but the Parrs were in York for two days before they went missing, so she was probably sleeping on someone’s couch plucking up the courage to go home. In the afternoon I went to Full Sutton, interviewed the son of the man identified as having hired the mechanical digger. He’s a lifer in for murder but he was very cooperative. He confirmed that his father did hire the digger and he went out with him to dig the hole, but was sent away as a lookout before the bodies arrived and returned once the hole had been filled in, but he made the clear statement that his father told him that he was employed by the landowner to dig the hole.’

  ‘Farrent?’ Hennessey confirmed.

  ‘Yes, sir. I didn’t get it down in writing because it was hearsay, but if the Crown Prosecution Service would like a statement – a signed and written statement – I can easily return.’

  ‘Yes, but as you say, it was hearsay, so I don’t think you’ll have to do that. All right, Somerled and Reginald, what did you turn up?’

  ‘Quite a lot, sir.’ Yellich leaned forwards as Thomson Ventnor sat back in his chair. ‘The dispute between the Parrs and the Farrents is over the ownership of a huge area of land which was probably acquired fraudulently by the Farrents in the aftermath of the Civil War.’

  ‘Strewth . . . that’s four hundred years ago.’

  ‘Yes, sir, but it was explained to us that because both families were direct descendants of the original Parr and Farrent families, then the land ownership could be contested.’

  ‘How interesting.’ Hennessey sipped his tea. ‘So that’s why the Parrs came to York. Why didn’t they let their lawyers handle the situation?’

  ‘They were advised by a family friend to sort something out with the Farrents, come to some agreement then ask the courts to ratify it. The gentleman to whom we spoke used a Scottish expression to explain the advice: “The law’s expensive, take a pint and settle”.’

  ‘That sounds to be good advice,’ Hennessey growled.

  ‘It was probably the suggestion that the families divide the land equally and call that the end of the matter,’ Yellich explained. ‘We are talking of vast acreage, I should explain.’

  ‘The Parrs had a strong case, it seems?’

  ‘Yes, sir, so it seems,’ Yellich explained. ‘The document was apparently examined by an expert who reported the signature to be genuine. He did not look at the deed showing the Farrents to be the legal owners. It is the story that the name on the deed was scratched out and replaced by Farrent.’

  ‘As easy as that?’


  ‘Well, yes, sir, this was four hundred years ago and the Farrents were Parliamentarians, and it did not help the Parrs that they were high-level Royalists. They didn’t kick up a fuss and appear to have kept their heads thereby, but they also kept a duplicate of the original deed showing them, the Parrs, to be the rightful owners of the land.’

  ‘But who lived on the land?’ Hennessey queried.

  ‘Neither family, sir, both lived in the south. That also helped the Farrents because the Parrs didn’t have to be evicted.’

  ‘Neat for the Farrents, difficult for the Parrs,’ Hennessey said quietly.

  ‘Indeed, sir, but the story of the “Altered Case” lived on in the Parr family by word of mouth from generation to generation, and then, apparently, Gerald Parr came across the duplicate deed and a document expert pronounced it to be genuine . . . so jubilation in the Parr camp . . . but a bolt out of the blue in the Farrent family. If the deeds held by the Farrents proved to have been adulterated then the Parrs had a solid case, but the Farrents, having held the land in good faith for four hundred years also had a claim.’

  Hennessey ran his fingers through his hair. ‘So the Parrs wanted their land back and the Farrents were not going to give it up without a fight? That I can understand.’

  ‘The Farrents hired a firm of solicitors in York, Fyrst, Tend and Byrd . . . very posh . . . don’t do criminal work. The two firms of solicitors made initial contact with each other, but it didn’t proceed much beyond that because it was just about that time that the Parr family, plus Michelle Lemmon, vanished. It may have been that the Parrs were travelling to York to meet the Farrents for unofficial talks about the issue.’

  ‘“Take a pint and settle”.’ Hennessey drained his mug of tea. ‘The Parrs were on a sticky wicket there. Didn’t they realize they might be putting themselves in danger by walking into the Farrents’ backyard?’

  ‘We’ll never know, sir,’ Yellich replied. ‘No danger at all if they were meeting at the premises of a solicitor’s, but the Parrs were a bit of an odd crew by all accounts, a bit eccentric. They might not have seen the danger in going to the Farrents’ home to open any discussion, if indeed that’s what happened.’

  Hennessey folded his hands and leaned forward, resting them on the desktop. ‘So, the motivation for the crime is coming clear and the finger of suspicion points to the Farrents. Anything else before I feed back a significant development?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Yellich said. ‘We were misled.’

  ‘Interesting.’ Hennessey smiled. ‘I do so like it when people try to mislead the police. It always means they have something to hide.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Yellich also grinned. ‘Doesn’t it make a nice smell? In a nutshell, Nigel Parr, who was fostered by the Parr family and who kept their name, told us that the house in which he lives was bought by money provided for him by Mrs Parr’s brother, one Mr Verity, when he, Mr Verity, wrapped up the estate of Gerald and Elizabeth Parr, because Gerald “would want him to have something”. But the solicitor told us that no such relative existed and that the firm of Oldfield and Fairly wrapped up the estate. They liquidated it and all the money generated is still in an account administered by the solicitors.’

  Carmen Pharoah gasped. ‘So, who was the man who travelled north to collect the possessions of the Parr family – the possessions they left in the hotel – and drove away in their Mercedes Benz?’

  ‘Dunno.’ Yellich turned to her. ‘But whoever he was, he wasn’t Mr Parr’s brother-in-law. No such person exists.’

  ‘That’s a very nice weakness to exploit,’ Hennessey said with an air of satisfaction. ‘It smells most malodorously. So, what do we know about Nigel Parr?’

  Yellich glanced at Webster. ‘He presented well to us, wouldn’t you say, Reg?’

  ‘Yes, he seemed very cooperative, affable, welcomed us into his house. We haven’t done a criminal record check on him though . . .’ Webster added as an afterthought.

  ‘Do that,’ Hennessey said.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Webster replied.

  ‘Dare say I should have thought of that as soon as suspicions arose,’ Yellich added.

  ‘No damage,’ Hennessey reassured Yellich. ‘You must have been exhausted, but do it a.s.a.p.’

  ‘Yes, sir. But Mr Hillyard, the retired solicitor, described him as a cold, calculating, unpleasant youth who was badly damaged by childhood experiences. Left in a phone box as a newborn infant and brought up in an institution until he was ten, when he was fostered by the Parrs. Mr Hillyard reported that Gerald Parr expressed a fear of him. He was away on the south coast with his girlfriend, one Florence Nightingale, when the Parrs vanished,’ Yellich reported flatly.

  ‘Who?’ Hennessey gasped.

  ‘I kid you not, sir, that was her name, probably still is. We’ll do a CR check on her as well. She was a cold fish by all accounts, with a chip on her shoulder about her name . . . but she and Nigel Parr teamed up.’

  ‘OK . . . OK, well, my news is that Thomas Farrent has reported his wife as a missing person,’ Hennessey announced flatly, and remained silent as a stillness settled in the room. ‘Then,’ he added, ‘he said she was last seen talking to DS Yellich and accuses us of abducting her.’

  ‘I met her in York,’ Yellich said. ‘She just planted herself in front of me. I didn’t recognize her at first but no conversation took place, there was no time. Her husband appeared out of the crowd, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away, but I do remember a look of fear in her eyes. She was a very frightened woman.’

  ‘That is also interesting.’ Hennessey leaned back in his chair. ‘So, what’s for action?’

  ‘We have to go to Fyrst, Tend and Byrd,’ Webster suggested. ‘See what they can tell us about the land ownership issue.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that.’ Hennessey scribbled a note on his pad. ‘We need to find Florence Nightingale . . . do a CR check on her. If she’s known, go and visit her. Ventnor and Webster, that’s for you two . . . Another trip to the south for you, Reg. Bad luck,’ he added with a grin.

  ‘Yellich and DI Pharoah.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Follow up on the mis per report. It’ll be a chance to look round the Farrents’ bungalow. I want us inside that home.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The woman walked slowly along the promenade from the North Bay towards the South Bay, savouring the sea air which added to her sense of new-found freedom. She was reminded of the day she truanted from school and discovered a strange mix of emotions: exhilaration in freedom and a sense of comfort in flight. Now it was the same. It was just her and a single room in a cheap hotel, but it was her room and only hers. The table to herself at breakfast; a small table tucked away in the corner of the dining room, but it was hers and hers alone. She cared not one jot, not one iota that the other guests glanced at her with pity, because she, in her solitude, knew only joy: the joy of the bird released from its cage, or the wild animal released from captivity.

  ‘Heavens, that’s a long time ago. I was a junior then, serving articles. It seems only yesterday, though, and I recall the case very well indeed.’ Elizabeth Nosser was a small, finely built woman in her fifties. She had short, black hair and alert brown eyes. She wore a black, pinstripe suit over a cream blouse. Rings, bracelets and necklaces and a gold watch spoke of wealth and her marital status. ‘The case made quite a stir with us; that is it made quite a stir with Fyrst, Tend and Byrd.’

  ‘Really?’ Hennessey adjusted his position in the armchair.

  ‘Yes, in our deliberations we felt the Parrs had a winnable case. We were permitted to see a photocopy of the original document, which had not been altered, plus a signed statement from a respected and indeed eminent document analyst who declared his opinion that the deed was genuine. They would not allow us to look at the original, which was quite fair enough, but they indicated their willingness to allow our own document analyst to access the document at their chambers and, I confess, the partners got very excited.’ S
he smiled briefly. ‘I mean, what with a substantial remnant of a forest estate, which once covered a large area of land stretching from here to the coast, up for grabs, the media interest would be intense. The fees we could charge would be astronomical; both firms smelled money.’

  ‘And your advice?’

  ‘To settle out of court,’ Elizabeth Nosser replied in a calm, matter-of-fact manner. ‘We and the London firm hoped for instructions to dispute the claim, in which case much coinage would pour into the coffers of both our firms, but we were ethically obliged to offer our clients the best possible advice. In this case, it was for both families to reach an agreement between themselves.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘We do have a code of conduct that we have to honour. I don’t know what advice the Parrs were given, but we said that if the deeds the Farrents hold can be shown to have been fraudulently altered and the deed the Parrs hold is genuine and unaltered, then the case would be settled in the Parrs’ favour, with the Farrents getting something in recognition of the fact they had “owned” the land for four hundred years and that they believed their ownership to have been lawful, but the Parrs would be the major beneficiaries. In that light we felt that if the Parrs made a reasonable offer, the Farrents should accept it.’

  ‘That accords with the advice given to the Parrs.’ Hennessey’s eye was caught by a pheasant which landed in the landscaped gardens he could see behind Elizabeth Nosser. The office smelled richly of furniture polish. The walls were lined with shelves on which sat row upon row of legal textbooks. ‘In fact,’ Hennessey continued, ‘we have information from the Parrs’ solicitor, no less, that the Parrs were advised to offer to share the land equally with the Farrents.’

  ‘That would indeed have been a very fair offer.’ Elizabeth Nosser nodded. ‘To draw up new title deeds, confirming the ownership of one half of the lands to the Farrents and the other half to the Parrs would have been fair and reasonable.’

  ‘Do you know if the Parrs’ offer was put to the Farrents?’