Death Dues

by Evans, Geraldine

  Having learned little more than the unpleasing thought that Sterling was on a similar wavelength to himself, Rafferty, as they returned to the station to write up their reports, admitted that they knew little more than they had known before. Even their reports would be the same as those they had made the first time round, with ‘no evidence’ featuring strongly.

  Bill Beard hailed Rafferty as he came into reception. ‘I’ve had a word with my auntie and she said she’ll be glad to help you out with your wedding flowers She said she’d have done it cheaper than the price you named if only because of all the laughs she’s had at your expense over the years. But as I told her, a deal’s a deal.’

  You’ve done yourself, Rafferty told the groom. But even though he now found Bill’s aunt would have done the flowers for an even lower price than the one he’d suggested, he was chuffed. ‘That’s great, Bill. Give me her number and I’ll get Abra to get on to her with her exact requirements.’

  Bill reached for a blank witness statement form and scribbled a number down. ‘She lives here in Elmhurst so she’s nice and handy.’

  ‘Thanks Bill. I owe you one.’ He was owing a lot all ways round.

  ‘That’s right. I might call in the favour one of these days. Don’t forget I shall expect an invite to the wedding.’

  ‘And you shall get one. You and auntie both.’

  Once they had finished writing up the latest reports on the case, Rafferty threw the last one down on the pile. ‘I’m done in,’ he said. He glanced at the clock and smiled. ‘Nice timing. A spot of lunch is called for. Fancy a bite at the Black Swan?’ he asked Llewellyn.

  Llewellyn nodded. ‘Just half an hour, though. Remember, we’ve more interviews this afternoon.’

  Rafferty pulled a face at this reminder. ‘Don’t be a spoilsport, Daff. What is it they say about all work and no play?’

  ‘Point taken. But what if Superintendent Bradley wants to see you for an update and you go to his office smelling of beer?’

  ‘I’ll smell as much from half a pint as I will from two. Besides, that’s what breath fresheners are for.’ Rafferty sighed. ‘Come on. We’re five minutes into our precious half-hour already. If we stop to worry about any more things — like Bradley wanting an update — that might happen this afternoon it’ll be time to come back before we’ve gone.’

  To forestall any other reasons for not going to the pub, Rafferty put on his jacket and made for the door. As they reached the car, he tossed the keys to Llewellyn. ‘You drive,’ he said. ‘I want to do some thinking on the way. Let no one say I don’t use my leisure time productively.’

  ‘You can’t drive and think?’

  ‘Not according to Abra. She says men can’t multi-task. At least that’s what she says when I’m driving and trying to read road signs at the same time.’

  It didn’t take more than a few minutes to reach the pub. Situated on the river like several others in Elmhurst, the Black Swan was an old pub, filled with low beams dark with age and smoke. They had beaten the lunchtime crowd and were quickly served, Rafferty with a pint of Adnam’s bitter and Llewellyn mineral water. After placing their food order, they went into the garden. They had only been sitting for five minutes when their order of a Ploughman’s each arrived.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes enjoying the crusty French bread and the sharp taste of a mature cheddar its sharpness heightened by the tang of pickles.

  It was a pleasant day after all the recent rain and the pub garden was bathed in sunshine. It was quiet and the sound of birdsong came to them clearly above the gentle gurgle of the river. The Black Swan’s garden was a veritable paradise on such a day. A warm breeze caressed them and Rafferty took off his jacket and stretched. ‘Sure we can spare only half an hour?’ he asked. ‘Me, I could spend the rest of the day here, just idling’, he grinned, ‘and thinking through our current investigation of course. I can do it just as well here as at the office.’ And without the danger of Superintendent Bradley interrupting their quiet idyll.

  But Llewellyn had other ideas. ‘There’s been extensive local media coverage on this case,’ he reminded Rafferty. ‘It wouldn’t do if one of the local press had followed us here and reported that we idled the afternoon away instead of being seen to get on with the investigation. If it got back to the superintendent—’

  ‘All right, all right, I get the drift. I hardly need Long Pockets Bradley on my case when I’ve got you, do I?’ He took a long pull from his beer and even though the minutes of their short half-hour were ticking away, he sighed contentedly. It was only as his mind dwelled on the wedding and the still spiralling cost of the parts of it that Abra had charge of that some of his contentment seeped away. He asked Llewellyn, ‘How did you keep the costs down on your wedding? Ours are getting beyond a joke, even with you doing the invitations and Bill Beard’s auntie doing the flowers. Abra seems to have developed a Princess Di complex. I can’t seem to rein her in.’

  ‘I was lucky, I suppose, in that Maureen isn’t given to ostentation or extravagance. I’m an only child, too, which reduced the guest list. I suppose we just worked on it together.’

  ‘What? No arguments? I keep getting the “Aren’t I worth it?” line from Abra. What am I supposed to say to that?’

  ‘That’s a tricky one. Can’t you reason with her?’

  ‘She’s beyond reason most of the time. The things she thinks are essential are ridiculous to my mind. She wants me and the other men in morning suits, if you please. She wants a rehearsal dinner, a five-tier wedding cake. She wants a theme to the wedding – her current fancy is for an Oriental do. She even wants wedding favours, whatever they are. I didn’t dare ask.’

  ‘I believe they’re gifts for the guests. Little mementoes of the day.’

  ‘Gifts for the guests? I thought it was them who are meant to buy us presents, not the other way round.’

  Llewellyn smiled as he finished his meal. ‘You don’t need to buy anything extravagant, though something more expensive is appropriate for the bridesmaids and the best man.’

  Was that a hint? Rafferty wondered. That was yet another problem; he hadn’t yet decided who to ask to undertake the role. There were several candidates, including Llewellyn.

  ‘As I said, we kept a lid on things for our wedding, though we did have favours for the bridesmaids — a gold locket and chain each. I have to admit, though, that I’ve heard Abra discussing the wedding with Maureen and she’d frighten me with her plans. What are you going to do?’

  ‘God knows. I’m at my wits’ end with it all. I’d as soon we eloped and married at Gretna Green. I don’t know why we have to have all this fuss.’

  ‘I hope you’re not going off the idea of getting married?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Abra was Llewellyn’s cousin, so was naturally concerned. But the relationship constrained Rafferty’s desire to have a real heart-to-heart. ‘Get Mo to have another word with her, will you Daff? I just want her to curtail her more fanciful desires and get real before we blow any pretence of having a budget and end up in debt for the next ten years.’

  ‘I’ll ask her. Though don’t get your hopes up. As you say, Abra’s got the bit between her teeth and it’s going to take some prising away.’

  Rafferty nodded glumly. He was seeing a side to Abra that he hadn’t seen before. A side he’d never suspected was there. God knew what she might be committing them to in his absence.

  Superintendent Bradley caught them as they came back from the pub – Rafferty hadn’t even had a chance to use his breath freshener. But fortunately, the Super was more intent on having a go at him about his current investigatory failure than he was about drinking at lunchtime.

  ‘So if you’re getting nowhere on this murder at least tell me you’re having more success on the muggings investigation.’

  Bradley had his intransigent Yorkshire face on. It told Rafferty he’d have to box clever.

  ‘Funny you should mention the two investigations in the same breath,
Sir. It’s a good point.’ It was always wise policy to flatter the super. Give him the sugar first and the nasty medicine went down easier. At least, that was the theory. ‘The thing is, I’m not altogether certain the two cases aren’t connected. I’ve got various feelers out on the usual suspects and we’ve got a prize pair in the Sterling brothers, Jake and Jason. They’ve both got convictions for violence. These muggings sound right up their street, particularly if they were put up to them by Malcolm Forbes in order to warn off the competition.’

  ‘Forbes? What’s he got to do with it? The murder was of one of his own men. You think there might have been a bit of tit for tat amongst the local loan sharks and one of them went in for a bit too much tit with Harrison?’

  ‘Yes Sir. I think you might well be right.’ Agreeing with the boss was also a good tactic. ‘I wondered whether Forbes might have organised the first two muggings of his competitors when one of them went a whole lot further with Harrison.’

  ‘Mmm. I hope you’re right, Rafferty. Go with that theory and bring me some culprits.’

  Rafferty nodded and eased himself away from the super’s side. He grinned to himself once he got round the bend in the stairs. That had gone well. Better than he’d hoped. He’d better score some arrests soon, though, on the muggings at least if he was to keep the super sweet.

  As soon as they were back in their office, Rafferty said, ‘Let’s have Tony Moran in again. Maybe he can tell us why he made no mention of Malcolm Forbes’s arrival at Primrose Avenue. Moran’s been pretty cooperative so far. Perhaps we can get more out of him. We can ask him if he saw Leslie Sterling prowling around the back alley while we’re at it.’

  But it seemed that either Jake Sterling or one of Forbes’s goons had had something of a heart to heart with Moran, because he refused to say anything more. This mightn’t be unconnected to the fact he looked like he’d sustained something of a beating in the interim. He had two black eyes and had lost one of his front teeth and generally gave off the aura of being sorry he’d opened his mouth at all.

  Rafferty sat back and stared at the youth. ‘You’ve been got at, Tony, that’s clear. The question is: who got at you? Your tough little friends or Forbes’s minions?’

  The latter seemed most likely as the CCTV footage had clearly shown Forbes’s Mercedes on the road on Friday afternoon. He denied he’d been driving it, but it was a nice car, expensive, so Rafferty doubted Forbes had let anyone else behind the wheel.

  ‘I’ve got nothing more to say,’ Moran lisped with difficulty through his swollen jaw and broken teeth.

  Rafferty couldn’t blame him for making the sensible choice. He’d probably do the same in a similar position. If Moran had got beaten up for telling them the little he had so far shared, even without revealing Forbes’s presence in the alley on the day of the murder, what punishment was he likely to receive if he opened his mouth further? Forbes wouldn’t be likely to let a potential witness to murder remain above ground.

  Although he was sure that Tony Moran could provide back up to what Bazza Lomond had told them, it was clear the youth had been frightened into silence. They would get nothing incriminating out of him so there was no point in questioning him further. But that didn’t apply to Malcolm Forbes. The CCTV footage showed his car and its registration number clearly. If he hadn’t been driving it, which, in view of young Bazza’s story, seemed unlikely, he must have handed his keys to someone else.

  ‘Give Forbes a bell, Dafyd. I suppose we ought to give him a chance to get his brief organised if we’re to get a word out of him. I don’t want him doing a “no comment” routine like we had with the two Sterlings and Des Arnott.’

  It was a full hour later before Forbes showed up at the station, having, as expected, demanded time to summon his solicitor.

  Although clearly barely holding on to his temper at being questioned again, Forbes had made no bones about the appointment. Rather, his voice on the phone had sounded bored as if he found little point in being questioned over trivia such as murder. But that might be because he’d already obtained Moran’s silence and felt able to discount Bazza’s evidence. The team questioning around the neighbourhood had discovered that young Bazza had earned a reputation as a teller of tall tales. It was likely that Forbes, if he knew of Bazza’s involvement, would have already put out feelers on the lad, so he would be aware that his evidence wasn’t necessarily as strong as Rafferty had thought.

  Rafferty didn’t beat about the bush once he and Llewellyn were again seated in the interview room with the man himself and his brief. He simply placed a still photograph from one of the CCTV tapes on the desk squarely under Forbes’s nose and said, ‘Your car, I believe, Mr Forbes. You can see the time and date of the shot clearly.’

  Forbes simply looked at the picture but said nothing for several moments. Then he pointed out, ‘That’s from the High Street. It doesn’t prove my car – or me – was in Primrose Avenue when Harrison was killed.’

  ‘True. But what it does prove, Mr Forbes, is that you lied to me. So, if you weren’t heading for Primrose Avenue, where were you going?’

  Unexpectedly, Forbes capitulated. Instead of claiming that one of his staff had borrowed his car as Rafferty had expected, he admitted it had been him driving the Merc. ‘And you’re right, I did go to Primrose Avenue. But I didn’t go there to kill Harrison. What reason would I have to do that? I’d gone to get his payment record sheets for last month. The accountant’s been asking for them as he wants to get the year’s accounts ready for the taxman and I’d forgotten to get then off Harrison earlier.’

  It seemed unlikely to Rafferty that Forbes would act as his own messenger boy and he asked, ‘Why didn’t you send one of your staff? Or ring Harrison himself and get him to drop the sheets off?’

  ‘My staff were all busy and I couldn’t get Harrison on his mobile. He must have switched it off. There was nothing much happening in the office so I took a drive out there to collect the sheets myself. I knew roughly where he was likely to be. I knew I was right when I saw his car parked round the corner from Primrose Avenue.’

  ‘And did you get the records?’

  ‘Oh yes. And before you ask, I dropped them off at my accountant’s. You can ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.’

  ‘I will, Mr Forbes.’ Llewellyn jotted down the accountant’s details. Rafferty had wondered why a mugger or murderer would trouble to take the payments book in which Harrison would have noted the monies he’d collected. Of course, if the murderer was one of the debtors having trouble with his repayments, he might have taken the book to conceal the fact. But now they knew that hadn’t happened and soon he would know if Harrison had visited any of the houses in the Avenue that afternoon, for surely the payments book would contain evidence of instalments made against the loans, and if so, he would be able to confront all those who had claimed not to have seen him.

  ‘By the way, Mr Forbes, while you're here, I wonder if you could supply me with a list of all your debtors, rather than just the ones who live in Primrose Avenue?’ It had occurred to Rafferty earlier that their killer might have murdered Harrison on someone else’s behalf rather than their own; someone whom Harrison had threatened with violence for non payment. It was another possibility that he needed to investigate.

  Rather to his surprise, Forbes made no objection. He held up his mobile and got a nod of acquiescence for its use from Rafferty and relayed the message to his office staff. 'They'll be waiting for you at the shop.'

  ‘Do you know if one or more of these other debtors are related to any of the residents on Primrose Avenue?’ he asked.

  ‘No idea.’ As Forbes at back at his ease on the hard plastic interview room chair, it was clear that he was prepared to help them so far and no further. ‘I don’t ask for a list of their friends and relations when people sign up for loans. I mostly supply a service to those unable to get credit elsewhere. Those with CCJs against them and other problems. The loans aren’t guaranteed by parents or
other relatives.’ Forbes gave them a hawk-like smile that belied his next words. ‘But I’m a trusting man and when people take out a loan with me I like to believe they’ll repay it.’

  With his trust backed up by the collectors who could turn menacing at the drop of an excuse. But at least now they had some of the truth from Forbes. Time would tell if he’d told them the whole truth. Meanwhile, they would pay a visit to the accountant and check the payments for Friday. Then they could check out the names on the latest list of debtors that Forbes had agreed to supply, for which Rafferty assigned uniform to collect straight away.

  But once Forbes and his brief had left and before they could do anything else, news came over the squawk box that another loan shark’s collector had been attacked and was lying badly injured in Elmhurst General.

  Chapter Eleven

  The injured man, a broken-nosed bruiser by the name of Izzy or Ignatious Barber, was at first reluctant to tell them anything, even his name. Though as the nursing staff of Elmhurst General had gone through his pockets after his admission and found a letter with his name and address on, he was forced to acknowledge his identity. But he wasn’t in a fit state to withstand their questioning and it wasn’t long before he admitted to working for Nigel Blythe. And not long after that he told them he had been on his usual collecting round when he’d been attacked. He seemed even more bruised by the fact that someone had had him over than he did by his bodily injuries. But eventually they drew the rest of the story out of him.

  ‘They took me by surprise, didn’t they? Otherwise I wouldn’t be lying here now, I can tell you. Bundled me into an alley out by Boadicea Drive. Four of them there were, wearing ski masks. Came up on me from behind. Didn’t hear a thing. They beat the shit out of me before they took my wallet and the money I’d collected. ‘

  ‘Have you any idea who they were, Mr Barber?’ Llewellyn asked.