False Money

by Veronica Heley

  She ordered a skinny latte and drew the bible out of the envelope. It seemed Tomi had bought it for herself, for there was nothing except her name on the title page. She’d had a firm signature and used black ink. Not a fountain pen, but a good ballpoint.

  As Bea had noted earlier, the bible had been well used. A few pages had become dog eared, but Tomi had smoothed out the creases and there were no torn corners or other defacements.

  There were half a dozen slips of paper marking various places in the bible, mostly in the Psalms or the New Testament. There were a couple of museum or art gallery postcards; one was of Dali’s Crucifixion, in which Christ looks down on the world below. Another was of a Florentine angel. Both were cards which had been sent through the post to Tomi; holiday cards from friends at work? Bea skimmed through the messages on the back. Yes, that’s what they were. Presumably the police would have contacted Tomi’s workplace by now?

  There were bible references scrawled upon a couple of slips of paper. Had the girl been asked to read the lesson in church sometime? It looked like it. There was just one piece of A4, folded over to fit inside the maps at the back. Something printed off a computer:

  ‘I hereby promise to pay Leo one pound (£1) per week for six months. I promise to abide by the rules we agreed. I understand that I forfeit my share if I fail in any respect.’

  Underneath were the words: ‘Signed: Libra’ and a space, followed by the words ‘Witnessed’ and ‘Dated’. Neither the date nor the signatures had been filled in.

  Presumably this was Tomi’s copy of some sort of agreement with a person called Leo. Bea turned the paper over. There, in writing which matched Tomi’s on the title page of the bible, was the name ‘Leo’ followed by a telephone number.

  Was this, perhaps, some form of blackmail? No, surely not. Not for a pound a week. It wouldn’t be worth it.

  Perhaps a syndicate of some sort had been formed at work? Everyone put in a pound a week and some lucky person – chosen by lot each week – scooped the jackpot. If fifty people played, then someone got fifty pounds. Perhaps Tomi had joined a syndicate to play the football pools? Or the National Lottery? No, that wouldn’t be like Tomi.

  Ah, Bea had a better idea. This would be some kind of charity for which Leo was collecting. Save the Planet, Go Green, rescue abandoned pets, that sort of thing. Highly commendable. Except that the terms of the agreement didn’t quite fit. Why the time limit?

  Well, perhaps the charity wanted to raise a specific sum for something: to supply fresh water to an African village, or to purchase a heart monitor. Yes, that might be it. One pound a week seemed about the right sum. But what was that about Tomi forfeiting her share if she broke the terms of the agreement? Her share of what?

  Bea read it again. ‘Leo’ was a man’s name. Fine. Bea didn’t know anyone called Leo, but presumably Tomi did and the name would crop up somewhere on Maggie’s lists or in Tomi’s diary. The small purse diary, which was missing, or the big one back at the flat?

  Bea took a short cut and dialled the phone number on the back of the agreement. The phone was switched off: ‘Please leave a message.’

  ‘This is Mrs Abbot here. My son was a friend of Tomi’s. I understand you have some sort of agreement with her. I’m not sure whether you are aware of it, but tragically she died a while back. The police will have the details, or you can ring me on . . .’ And here Bea dithered whether to give her home or mobile number. The battery on her mobile was running low, so finally she gave the Abbot Agency office number.

  That done, she returned to her scrutiny of the document. It was supposed to have been signed by someone called ‘Libra’. Not by Tomi.

  Ah. Libra and Leo were two of the signs of the zodiac, weren’t they? So it was possible that they were nom de plumes, and that Leo’s real name was something quite different, such as Ponsonby Smythe. He was probably male and, if you fitted the name to the personality behind the zodiacal name, Bea thought he might well be the leader or instigator of whatever arrangement it was they’d made. Leos were usually leaders, weren’t they?

  On the other hand, Librans were supposed to be level-headed, all-for-justice type of people. Could Tomi be described like that? Mm. Possibly. Perhaps it was her birth sign? Chris might know.

  Bea sighed. Since the paper was not signed in any way, the ‘Libra’ referred to might not be Tomi at all, but someone completely different. Ah, but if so, why had Tomi stowed the paper in her bible? Putting it there must mean it was important.

  It was a puzzle. Why the talk of ‘rules’, for instance? What rules? The whole thing smacked of mumbo-jumbo and secret societies, which wasn’t like Tomi at all.

  Bea read the form again. She held the paper up to the light. Reasonable quality paper, such as was used in millions of printers attached to computers. Watermark? No. Evenly printed in black, no colour. Font size twelve, Times New Roman, which was the most common. The printer was in good condition.

  Bea put the paper back in the bible, popped the book back inside its envelope, finished her coffee and returned home.

  Tuesday afternoon

  Claire helped her employers to pack. Tomorrow morning early they’d be off to the airport and tenants would be taking over their flat. Unfortunately the new people didn’t need a nanny, or Claire might have offered herself for the job.

  Baby was sleeping peacefully, so Claire helped clear out cupboards and wash them down. She often said she didn’t mind what she did, and it was true; she was frequently given clothing and cosmetics which were almost new, and which she couldn’t possibly have afforded to buy on her salary. And medication, of course. All sorts. Even the hard stuff, now and then. She had to promise to dispose of the drugs safely, and promise she did.

  Disposal was another matter.

  She smiled to herself, cleaning round the shower in the en suite. She’d been running a little low on sleeping tablets, had used the last on dear little Nick the previous night. So it was really good to be able to replenish her stock.

  Dear little Nicky-wicky. She’d played blindfold with him till he didn’t know which was the floor and which the ceiling. Then she’d taken off the blindfold and given him a push . . . Oops, over the banister he’d gone. Tumbling head over heels. Poor little Nicky-wicky. If anyone had heard him fall, she’d have been ready with a sob story of trying to stop him committing suicide, but no one had stirred. So she’d cleaned up, left an appropriate note on his laptop, and had been safely tucked up back at home before her darling boy rang. He missed her terribly, he said. Good. He was looking forward to tomorrow evening. Even better.

  She wasn’t sure what she’d do about another job. Perhaps visit the agency again to see if there was anything going? Nothing too taxing, of course. After all, it wouldn’t be long now . . .

  It was only after she eventually got home and was playing with her mobile phones that she noticed someone had left a message on Leo’s old one. That sent a chill through her. Whoever could it be?

  Who was this Mrs Abbot? What was her son’s connection to Tomi? Was she a threat? Or just a curious neighbour who could safely be ignored?

  NINE

  Tuesday afternoon

  Bea put in a couple of hours’ work down in the agency rooms before making some leek and potato soup plus ham sandwiches for lunch. Oliver had cleared his desk in the office which Maggie had been using – well, the one she’d been using in theory – and was totally immersed in computer-geek mode. Bea took him a mug of soup and a pile of sandwiches, which he reached out for without taking his eyes off the screen.

  There was no sign of Chris, which was something of a surprise. No sign of Maggie, either; but to be fair, Maggie had said she really must find that wretched plumber and screw his head off that day or the new en suite would never be finished in time. Bea’s money was on Maggie, who might run a mile from a man who had sex on his mind, but brought her projects in on time and within budget. It was a good sign that she’d allowed Zander to help her look for Tomi’s killer. />
  Which reminded Bea of the paper she’d found in Tomi’s bible. She pulled it out and found a clear folder to put it into. Perhaps there might be fingerprints on it which would help the police? Her own included, of course. She reread the paper and still couldn’t make sense of it. While she was making some photocopies of it she heard her front doorbell peal. Oliver wouldn’t go upstairs to answer the door when he was working; he never did.

  Besides, Bea recognized that peal. It was either the police being heavy-handed, or CJ making sure he was let in.

  It wasn’t the police.

  CJ wasn’t carrying a bottle, but he had news. She took him into the sitting room, where he drifted around, hardly disturbing the air.

  ‘You have bad news?’

  He sighed, sat down, addressed the fireplace. ‘The police have a great many important cases on. They are under stress and undermanned. They are very happy to pursue the drug dealers named in Maggie’s lists. They see no prospect of a conviction for the murder of Tomi since Harry admitted culpability before he killed himself.’

  ‘Oh. Did he really commit suicide?’

  ‘There was a note to that effect on his laptop. According to the autopsy, he took some drugs, put the cord of his dressing gown around his neck while he sat on a chair behind his bedroom door, fell off the chair – or pushed it away – and strangled himself. Scuff marks on the carpet indicated that he’d tried to pull himself up, but had tied the rope too tight and so failed. He was probably out of it, anyway; comatose from the drugs he’d taken.’

  Bea sank into a seat. She was shocked. ‘So they aren’t going to pursue either case?’

  ‘No. Officially Tomi’s case is down as a murder which was committed by Harry, who needed to ditch her in order to curry favour with Hermia. The call alerting the police to where Tomi’s body might be found came from Harry’s mobile phone. Case proved.’

  ‘But, according to Maggie, Tomi wasn’t all that smitten by Harry and was preparing to move on.’

  ‘Hermia has been questioned by the police, who says she did agree to go out for the day with Harry last Saturday, but wasn’t serious about him. When she found he’d not even bothered to get dressed in outdoor clothes, she changed her mind and went off with Chris. She cited witnesses, so you may be asked to confirm that she did just that. The police have already been round to ask Chris if he’d confirm that Hermia left with him and was with him most of the day. Which he did. In the early evening he saw her back to her place; confirmed by her flatmate. Hermia then changed into evening wear and went on to some charity “do” or other, as a partner to her old friend Lord Fairley.’

  ‘So her on-and-off boyfriend has a title? I suppose that explains his attraction for her.’

  ‘Don’t be so cynical. He’s a decent enough sort. Her appearance at the function is confirmed by a hundred people. She stayed overnight with her host and hostess somewhere out in the Home Counties. Confirmed.’

  ‘So she dumped Chris to return to the titled one? Well, well. You know that Chris is still in touch with her?’ Bea sighed. ‘I don’t understand her. Does she play fast and loose with everyone?’

  ‘Possibly. But she’s in the clear as regards Harry’s demise.’

  ‘They’re not trying to make out that Chris killed Harry, are they?’

  ‘They did ask him where he was on Saturday night, but luckily he met up with some friends in the pub immediately after he left Hermia, so he’s in the clear. No, the police are quite happy to leave it that Harry murdered Tomi and then committed suicide.’

  ‘Humph!’ said Bea, ‘Which leaves Hermia believing that she was responsible for his death. She’ll have a guilt complex from here to eternity.’

  ‘She’s a very well-balanced young lady,’ said CJ, non-committally. ‘On past form, she’ll rise above it.’ Of course, CJ would be pleased if Hermia had dumped Chris.

  Bea said, ‘I don’t like it. Do you?’

  ‘It’s a neat enough outcome.’

  ‘There were no prints apart from his on the laptop?’

  ‘Only his. However, I was involved in another case some time ago where I was asked whether or not the defendant had left a damning message on his laptop. I did an experiment using the tip of a pen to depress the keys. I found I could type whatever I liked that way, and it hardly disturbed the existing fingerprints. On the other hand, I found there was a certain irregularity, a lack of rhythm in the key strokes, a hint that the message might have been typed by someone who was not an experienced keyboard user.’

  ‘What you’re saying is that someone else might have put the suicide note on his laptop without disturbing fingerprints Harry had put on it before?’

  A hesitation. ‘It is not easily provable. My evidence wasn’t accepted in the case to which I refer, though it didn’t make any difference to the result of the trial in the long run, since there was plenty else to convict the man.’

  ‘So it’s possible that Harry didn’t type that message himself? Right. Well, what about his mobile phone? That was missing. Or have they found it somewhere? Also, the floor and table top had been cleaned. Surely that’s proof that someone else was there after we left.’

  CJ cleared his throat. ‘Someone else might have been there quite innocently, perhaps even tried to divert him from committing suicide. When Harry hung himself they might have panicked, decided to remove all trace of their having been there, cleaned up and scarpered.’

  ‘I don’t believe that, and neither do you.’

  ‘I’m not sure what I believe. What I do know is that there are no grounds for the police to look any further. They received the lists of names which Maggie put together and will give special attention to those who may have been dealing with drugs. That’s about it, as far as they are concerned.’

  Bea produced Tomi’s bible and the original agreement. ‘This might help to muddy the waters. It’s Tomi’s bible, which was left out of the boxes of her belongings by mistake. I don’t think the police have seen it. I thought there might be some sort of clue in it as to how Tomi was thinking, and I found this paper in the back. I haven’t the slightest idea what it means, but you might be able to work it out.’

  He scanned the paper, looked at the back of it. ‘Who’s “Leo”?’

  ‘The person who organized this game, or whatever it is they were playing? I tried his phone, left a message to ring me.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Not a good idea?’

  He frowned, shook his head. ‘Well, it’s done now. Probably this hasn’t got anything to do with her death and Leo is not in any way involved, but I think I’d have been happier if you hadn’t phoned him. Suppose he’s the drug dealer who supplied the dose which killed her? Did you leave your name?’

  Bea felt herself pale. ‘I did. I never thought.’

  ‘Well, well. It’s probably nothing. Is there someone called “Leo” on the list of names Maggie got for us?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’ll check.’

  Oliver tapped on the door and slid in. He could be as pussyfooted as CJ when he chose. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he said to CJ. ‘Did you get the latest emails that came through on Tomi’s computer? I’m particularly thinking about those from her parents, who’ve been worrying about her. What are the police doing about it? Shouldn’t they have been in touch with her people by now?’

  CJ said, ‘They have been. Her mother and father are flying over later this week.’

  ‘Why did you ask me to check on her emails, then?’ Oliver was not pleased. ‘Anything else been happening that I don’t know about?’

  Bea said, ‘Tomi’s parents have been in touch with Miss Drobny, asking her to keep her things for them. She’s putting everything in storage, which seems sensible to me. Apart from her bible.’

  CJ handed Oliver the agreement. ‘Here’s something new. What do you make of it? It was in the back of Tomi’s bible.’

  Oliver read it, shook his head and shrugged. ‘A charity appeal.’

  Bea said,
‘When is Tomi’s birthday? Do you know?’

  ‘Last autumn some time? I seem to remember there was some sort of celebration when they finished putting the music on the film, and it coincided with her birthday.’

  ‘So she could have been a Libran?’

  ‘I don’t think she put much stock in that sort of thing.’ He turned the folder over. ‘Who is this Leo? Can he cast any light on things?’

  CJ held out his hand for it. ‘It’s a forlorn hope, but I’ll give the original to the police and check it out myself. I have to tell you, Oliver, that the police have closed the case. They think Harry killed Tomi because she’d become a nuisance and he was after Hermia. When Tomi’s body didn’t turn up straight away, he phoned the police to tell them where she might be found, and then killed himself. The phone call to the police definitely came from his phone. There really is no point in taking the matter further.’

  ‘What? I don’t agree. Surely they don’t believe . . . I can see how it might look like . . . No, I just don’t believe it. What about the text from Tomi’s phone to Chris? Where is her phone, and where is his?’

  Bea gave a little cough. ‘I had a thought about that. I think the killer took the mobiles to conceal the fact that he’d rung his victim to make an appointment earlier. The caller’s number would automatically come up on the screen, wouldn’t it? So it was necessary to take the mobiles away after the murders. That might explain why Tomi’s diary is missing, too. The killer might fear Tomi had jotted down that she was meeting so and so that day, which is why her diary is nowhere to be found. What about Harry’s diary? Is it still there?’

  ‘I’ll check. But even if it’s not there, I doubt your theory is strong enough to move the police to action.’

  ‘It sounds right to me.’ Oliver was more positive. ‘We’d better ask Chris if Tomi took a phone call when he was with her that morning.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Chris is out now, at this very minute, trying to track Brian down. You remember Brian? The man who met Chris and Tomi in the street the last time he saw her outside the library? Chris knows roughly where he lives, in one of those big red brick blocks of flats up the road from the library, so he’s going to see if he can find him—’