Alan pulled me into a doorway. ‘What’s on your mind, love? And you’d best keep your voice down.’
‘I don’t understand what all this penny-ante stuff is all about. Alice implied that the man had stolen big-time from his church in Illinois. All we’ve heard about here is nickel-and-dime stuff. What was he up to?’
‘Let’s walk.’ He led the way, not back to our room, but up Victoria Street to QE2 Street. We walked past Annie’s bookshop to the police station, and Alan gestured me in, having said not a word in the meantime.
‘What?’ I whispered.
‘I have an idea,’ he replied.
Constable Partridge was in. Alan and I were admitted to the little interview room and invited to sit down. ‘I have only one quick question,’ said Alan, still standing. ‘Gambling. Where can I find more information?’
Mr Partridge didn’t seem at all startled at the question. ‘The Gambling Control Commission offices are just up the street. They’ll be happy to tell you anything you need to know.’
As we turned to go, I thought the constable wore a satisfied expression.
‘What was that all about?’ I demanded as soon as we were outside. ‘What do you mean, gambling? You said just now that you’re not a gambling man, and I know that’s true.’
He glanced up and down the street and then turned toward Victoria Street. ‘It’s nap time. Let’s go to our room and I’ll tell you a little bedtime story.’
I was seething with curiosity by the time we were safely in our room with the door firmly shut.
‘We might have some tea,’ he suggested. ‘This may take a little while.’
So I brewed a pot, and we sat at the tiny table, and Alan talked.
‘Once upon a time,’ he began in approved bedtime story fashion, ‘there was an American man with expensive tastes and not a great deal of money to gratify them. He had a decent job, and the salary was sufficient to support him in modest comfort, but he wanted much more. He began to see chances to slip a little more into his pocket than he was entitled to. He was a trusted employee; he was in fact the boss at his place of business. And he was a charming, plausible fellow. Most people believed what he told them.’
Alan finished his tea and poured himself another cup. ‘As his peculations grew and grew, it was inevitable that they would be discovered. By the time they were, he had piled up rather a nice little nest egg, enough to take him out of the country just before the authorities were called in. He had heard of a small island in the English Channel where gambling was not only entirely legal, but entirely respectable. He thought if he could get there with his nest egg and add a bit to it, he’d be in a very nice position to accumulate the wealth he had desired all his life.’
‘Alan, he wasn’t a stupid man! He would surely have realized that gambling is a good way to end up in the poorhouse.’
‘Ah, but he didn’t intend to be a gambler. He was going to set himself up in business.’
‘What, a casino? Here?’ I could not wrap my mind around that idea. Casinos belong in glitzy places, not tranquil islands.
‘Not a casino. A computer. Electronic gambling.’
I abandoned my tea and made a pot of coffee. My brain needed stimulation. ‘Alan, I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.’
‘That’s because you’re not a gambler, either. But you play card games online.’
‘FreeCell, yes.’
‘And you know that some online games are played against other players.’
‘I suppose. I’ve never played those.’
‘All right, then. I don’t know the details of the operation myself, but I presume that one can play such games as poker, or blackjack, or any card game online – for money. One would presumably have to pay to join the game, and make wagers, just as in a casino, except that it would all be done from one’s own computer. And computers, according to the man at the shop, are very important in Alderney.’
I mulled that over. ‘How would you pay, though, or collect your money if you won?’
‘Credit cards, probably. Or you could set up an account that would be debited. I’ll need to find all that out. The point is that, as with any gambling, the “house” always wins in the long run. So if one set oneself up to run such an operation, one could quite legally make enormous sums of money.’
‘But … but … there must be regulations. And taxes, and all that. I mean, they wouldn’t let just anybody set up a cyber-casino, would they?’
‘I’m sure not. I intend to find out. But wouldn’t it be a sweet little operation for a man who, we suspect, had very little in the way of conscience? Not only lucrative, but legal.’
‘But it isn’t right!’
‘That depends upon one’s view of gambling. Our man’s view may well be flexible. After all, he stole from unsuspecting parishioners to get the seed money. And remember all that expensive electronic equipment he was buying? Perhaps it wasn’t just for entertainment.’
‘Somebody should do something!’ I raged.
‘Simmer down, darling. Don’t forget that this is just a fairy tale I’m spinning. It’s a possibility, certainly, but probably no more than that. Although it would explain why he came to Alderney.’
‘If that man was planning something like that, then I hope someone did push him down that hill! I wish I’d done it myself!’
‘No, you don’t. You would have liked to give him a piece of your mind, I’ve no doubt, but you know you can’t even smack the dog when he’s been naughty, much less use violence to a human being.’
‘I’m not so sure he was a human being,’ I grumbled, but Alan was right, of course.
I jumped up suddenly and reached for my purse, pulling out my phone. ‘Alan, I want to call Jane.’
‘To check on the animals? You know they’re fine. She spoils them.’
‘Well, it was the mention of Watson that made me think of it, but it’s not just that. I want to hear her voice. She’s so sane and sensible and just plain good. She’ll be an antidote to all this poison.’
Jane Langland is one of the saints of the earth. She doesn’t look like it. I’ve never been able to decide whether she looks more like Winston Churchill or one of her many bulldogs, not that there’s a great difference. Her gruff manner hides the kindest heart imaginable. She’s a retired schoolmistress, who has been my next-door neighbour ever since I moved to England years ago, and is a dear friend, pet-sitter and source of information about everything under the sun. I badly needed a dose of Jane.
She answered the phone promptly. ‘Hello, Dorothy. Thought you might be calling about now. Missing your miserable little toads?’
‘I am, badly. How are they all?’
‘Fat and lazy. Cats sleep all the time they’re not eating. Not even interested in chasing the birds.’
‘They never catch them, anyway. Thank goodness. And Watson?’
‘Oh, Watson.’ Her voice had softened. She enjoyed the cats, and was always good to them, but dogs were the great love of her life, and she pampered our mutt just as much as her own highly pedigreed pets. ‘Missing you, of course, but being good. Needn’t worry.’
‘I know. I just – oh, Jane, I just wanted to talk to you. Something awful has happened here.’
‘Man on the cliff.’
‘Jane! How on earth …? It can’t have made the news. A man falls down a hill and hits his head – it’s not the most riveting news.’
‘Been keeping an eye out for Alderney news. Friend used to live there; saw this in a Guernsey paper; told me.’
Of course. If Jane had relayed news from a friend in Kathmandu or Kamchatka, I wouldn’t have been surprised. ‘I should have known. You have your spies everywhere.’
‘Suppose you were the ones who found him.’
‘Now I’m sure your friend didn’t tell you that!’
‘No. Know you two. Good at finding trouble. Accident, was it?’
I hesitated just a fraction too long, and heard her chuckle.
‘Thought not. Know a little about the man.’
I sighed. ‘Why does that not surprise me? Just a second, Jane, I’m going to put you on speaker phone, so Alan can hear, too. Wait a minute, he may have to do this for me.’
When Alan had pushed a button or two, I said, ‘Okay. Shoot.’
‘Don’t know much. Student went to America, some uni in Ohio. Wrote back about a local priest. Saint on earth, apparently. Too good to be true, boy thought. Left without much ado. Fishy.’
I’m used to Jane’s style, and translated without much difficulty. One of her former pupils had gone to America, heard about Mr Abercrombie and mistrusted him, especially when the priest flew the coop.
‘We’re hearing some things, too, Jane, that have made us wonder, but it still seems as if the guy just fell down that hill. It’s awfully steep.’
‘Jane, there’s another thing,’ Alan put in. ‘What do you know about gambling in Alderney?’
‘Big business. Huge business. Big source of income for the island. All on the up-and-up. Why?’
‘It’s too complicated to get into, Jane. We just wondered, that’s all.’
‘Hmm.’ Jane was given ‘furiously to think’, as Hercule Poirot used to say.
Alan signalled me with his eyebrows, so I said, ‘We have to sign off now, Jane. Thanks for the info, and for looking after our menagerie. We’ll let you know if anything exciting happens.’
‘Better,’ she said, and we rang off.
‘She’ll be exploring connections between Abercrombie and Alderney gambling before we finish our nap,’ I said, putting the phone away.
‘I hope so. It’ll save us some legwork. If that woman had lived in America, the FBI and the CIA would have been battling to obtain her services.’
‘They’re not half so efficient,’ I said, yawning. ‘The tea and coffee don’t seem to have done much. But wake me in an hour. I want to try to find Alice. She might know how much Abercrombie was supposed to have stolen. I can’t imagine that it’s cheap to set up a gambling operation.’
It was an hour and a half before I came back to full consciousness. Alan and I had both been doing too much intensive thinking, and we fell into a heavy sleep. I actually woke first (all that tea and coffee), and felt logy and unrefreshed, even after I’d splashed cold water on my face.
‘All right,’ I said to Alan when he was awake and functioning, ‘where shall we try to find Alice?’
‘Do you have any idea where she lives? Or works?’
‘Not a clue.’
‘Then our only contact is the church. Where, late on a Friday afternoon, there’s not likely to be anyone around.’
But we were lucky. A middle-aged woman was working with flowers at the font, an apron tied around her sturdy waist. ‘There’s a christening tomorrow,’ she explained. ‘Can I help you at all?’
‘We’re trying to find Alice Small, and we don’t know where she lives,’ said Alan. ‘We met her at Morning Prayer, and we’d like to – er – invite her to tea.’
‘She’s not at home. I know because she had said she’d help me with the flowers today, so when she didn’t turn up, I phoned her. No answer. I can’t imagine where she’s gone. It’s not like her to be irresponsible, but she has been acting a bit odd lately.’
‘Oh, what a pity,’ I said. ‘I wonder – do you think it would be all right if you gave me her phone number? We could try later.’
‘Oh, well, if you met at church, I suppose it wouldn’t matter.’ She pulled out her own phone, found the number and read it off to me while I entered it in mine. ‘You’re that couple who found Mr Abercrombie, aren’t you?’
We were becoming used to this. ‘Yes,’ said Alan, ‘and please accept our condolences. It appears that this congregation will miss him very much.’
‘Hmph. That’s as may be. He was a charmer, but there was something about him … however. If you do manage to talk to Alice, you might remind her about the flowers. There’ll still be plenty to do tomorrow morning.’
‘Well, there’s another one in the negative column,’ said Alan as we walked back to our room.
‘Or at least not one of the walked-on-water crowd. Alan, what are you going to do about following up on your gambling idea?’
‘First, I’m going to find a computer somewhere and see what I can find there. If I still have questions I’m going to the Commission in the morning. Meanwhile, it’s too late for tea and far too early for dinner. Why don’t you come with me to the library? They’re sure to have at least one computer for public use, and I’m sure you can find something of interest while I surf.’
‘I didn’t even know there was a library. Lead the way, great explorer.’
It wasn’t far away. Nothing is very far away from anything else in Alderney. It was small, as one might expect, but new and clean and well-stocked. An assistant showed Alan the somewhat antiquated computer he could use, and helped him to log on.
I was pleased to find the mysteries of some of my favourite American authors on the shelves, and took one down at random to while away a few minutes. Of course I knew I couldn’t check it out, but if I couldn’t stand not to finish it, Annie could always order it for me.
Alan was taking a long time. He must be finding something of interest. I got tired of my book – not as good as I’d hoped – and went outside to get some fresh air and try to call Alice Small. I got no response, not even voicemail. Oh, well, maybe she was one of those people who hate voicemail. I went back in the library and wandered about, went outside again to place the call, went back in. I finally sat down next to my husband, who was still absorbed in his research.
The assistant approached. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but we’re closing in a few minutes. Perhaps if you could finish up what you’re doing? I can print a few pages out for you, if you like.’
He sat up and stretched. ‘No, that won’t be necessary, thank you. You’ve been a great help.’
‘So did you find what you needed?’ I asked when we were out in the sunshine and I’d tried Alice again.
‘There’s a lot of information on the Net. Too much, indeed. I may stop at the Commission offices tomorrow for help in sorting it all out. But I learned several things that seem to knock my theory into a cocked hat. For one thing, a licence to operate an e-gambling operation out of Alderney costs a great deal of money. If I read it correctly, the cheapest licence, for the first year only, is over £17,000. After that it doubles, at least. That’s just for the licence. Then one must prove one has adequate funds to operate, that is, to pay out on bets. There are all sorts of forms and requirements, and frankly I was getting a headache trying to make my way through it all.’
‘Hmm. It does sound daunting. I’m not sure our get-rich-quick priest would want to get involved in that.’
‘No. And I thought it was such a good idea. Have you managed to reach Alice?’
‘No, and I’ve tried over and over again. It just rings and rings, no voicemail, even. I thought modern phones always responded in one way or another.’
‘Perhaps it isn’t a modern phone. I suppose there are still a few old-fashioned ones around. Still, given her state of mind, it’s a bit worrisome, don’t you think?’
‘I do, actually. I’d like to make sure she’s all right, but I have no idea where she lives, or works, or anything. Do you suppose the Visitor Centre is still open? Someone there might have some ideas.’
‘It’s well past their official closing time, but we could try.’
It was closed, but someone was just leaving the Wildlife Trust office next door. We hurried.
‘Sorry, we’re just closing, but was there something you needed?’ The man looked tired, but he was still pleasant. Of course he was. This was Alderney.
‘We’re sorry to bother you,’ I said, ‘and actually we were hoping to talk to someone next door. I’m trying to find the address of a lady I met at church, and I don’t know where to begin.’
‘You’ve tried the church?’
‘We did, earlier. Someone gave us her phone number, but she doesn’t answer.’
‘What’s the lady’s name?’
‘Alice Small.’
‘Oh, Alice! Yes, of course. Actually she lives quite close to me – I’m Philip Cooper, by the way – and I’m going home. If you’d like to come with me, I can show you.’ He sized us up in a quick glance. ‘It’s not too far, but I’m afraid I didn’t bring my car.’
‘We’re spryer than we may look,’ said Alan with a smile, ‘and we like to walk.’
It was, indeed, not far, and all downhill, to the bottom of Victoria Street and then just a short walk down Braye Road.
Our guide showed us her front gate, and then paused. ‘That’s odd,’ he said. ‘She always leaves her door just a little ajar, so the cat can get in and out. Perhaps the wind blew it shut.’
‘There’s not been any wind today to speak of,’ said Alan, suddenly sounding very much like a policeman. He walked up to the tightly shut door and rapped sharply. The only response was a frantic mewing from somewhere within.
‘Why, she’s shut even the windows! And her car’s here.’
The uneasiness I’d been feeling turned to real fear. Alan hammered on the door again, and called out. Only the cat responded.
Alan tried the door. It was locked.
‘She never locks her door!’ said Philip. ‘Nobody in Alderney ever locks a door!’
Alan turned, looking grim. ‘Dorothy,’ he ordered, ‘check for an open window somewhere. We need to know what’s happening.’
‘Now, wait a minute,’ said Philip in alarm. ‘I admit this is peculiar, but there must be some reasonable explanation. I really can’t let you—’
‘I am a policeman,’ said Alan. ‘I have no authority here in Alderney, but my wife and I have reason to be worried about Ms Small’s emotional balance. You may notify the police if you wish, but I intend to enter this house and make sure that all is well.’
I found a window that was slightly ajar. It was upstairs, overlooking the roof over the back stoop. There was a sturdy trellis.
‘Dorothy, you weigh less than I do. Do you think you could climb up?’
Smile and be a Villain Page 8