by Issy Brooke
I shouldn’t have let them get this entangled.
Who else? Not Ariadne. Francine?
Her thumb scrolled through the names.
She knew who she had to call. And it wasn’t going to be easy.
* * * *
Penny wasn’t entirely sure how to tell a police officer that she was stuck in a room after a bout of breaking and entering went a bit wrong, so she omitted that incriminating snippet of information at the start of the conversation. She hoped to work up to it by increments, all stealthily.
“Hey, Cath!”
“Oh. Penny. Er, are you all right?”
“Sure, I’m fine.” Slightly trapped, but mostly fine. “How are you?”
“Yeah. You sound a bit…”
Penny realised that she was instinctively whispering. She didn’t dare raise her voice too much in case the receptionist passed by, but she felt her way to the far end of the room, as far from the door as she could get, and tried to sound normal. “Oh, hayfever,” she said, adding a tiny and unconvincing cough.
“Right. Did I see you earlier at the fete?”
“Yes … are you still here? There, I mean?”
“Yes. It’s turned out really well, and it’s so good the rain’s held off … but you’re not calling to talk about the weather, are you? Why don’t you come down and say hello? Let’s chat.”
“Yes, as soon as I can,” Penny said cautiously. “I need to tell you some stuff right now.”
She heard Cath sigh heavily. “This is about the murder, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“Really? What? Okay… So, what is it about?”
“This is about Brian Davenport and his involvement with Ferg Smith,” she announced. And if you follow it up, maybe you’ll get closer to the murderer too. I am convinced but I have no proof … and little reason, but I am nearly there. Maybe.
“What on earth do you know about Ferg Smith?”
“I know that Brian is working for him, or with him. For him is more likely. And he has done so for at least five years. Maybe more.”
“Really? How do you know this?”
“Furthermore,” Penny persisted, “at least one of his members of staff, Steven, the bar manager, is involved.”
“Oh for goodness’ sake. Did he short-change you or something?”
“I’m not that petty,” Penny said, making rude gestures in the dark. “There are some serious questions that need to be asked about Brian’s business. Listen. You need to investigate the flow of cash in and out of the hotel – not cheques, not credit cards. Cold, hard cash. Look at how the staff are paid, and look at what they pay for accommodation.”
“They don’t pay…”
“Oh, they do. Don’t ask Steven. He’s in on it. Find … Agnes. Yes, Agnes. She will talk, I’m sure of it.”
“Hang on. So you’re saying he’s money laundering?”
Penny hadn’t realised that was what she was saying until that moment. A light went on in her head. “Yes,” she said with conviction. “That is exactly what I’m saying.”
“It’s not my area,” Cath said with a long-suffering sigh. “And I don’t see what’s so urgent about it.”
“Ferg! Ferg Smith! Brian does things for him. Does things. You know. And not just Brian…” She nearly groaned in frustration. She wanted to say, “It IS all about Owen!” but that would be admitting she was investigating. Prodding Cath towards Brian was the best she could do.
“Does he? ‘Things’, you say? Right. I’ll pass your concerns along. Your concerns about ‘things.’”
“Find Agnes,” Penny urged. “Please. She’s around. You’re still at the fete. Take her somewhere private and talk to her, reassure her, take care of her. I’m sure she’ll open up. Ferg Smith works through foot-soldiers, right? He never gets his hands dirty. Other people take the rap. Brian’s a foot-soldier. So was …”
“Oh, I get where you’re going with this. So was Owen, right?”
“I can see why you’re in the police,” she muttered, slightly resentfully. “Yeah, he was. They knew him, here, and why would they have reason to know him? Why else would a man like Owen come to a fancy hotel like this?”
“If they both worked for Ferg … are you also saying Brian is linked to his death?”
“Maybe. That’s for you to find out, isn’t it? I’m not allowed, remember.”
“So what are you doing right now?”
“Being a concerned citizen in a matter involving, um, money laundering. Of course.”
“Penny, am I going to have to get all official on you?”
“No! Not at all. Please. Talk with Agnes, at least.”
“I don’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”
“You will?”
“Get down here,” Cath said. “Yes, okay. I’ll go and find her now.”
She rang off.
Penny punched the air in triumph, grinning.
And then she remembered she was still locked in the small room, and she groaned.
* * * *
Penny had to call her back. It was like flouncing out of a restaurant halfway through a bad date, but then having to creep back in to collect one’s scarf or purse. “Oh, and Cath?”
“What?”
“I’m … don’t tell your police friends, but I … kind of got lost when I was looking for a toilet. And now I’m somehow locked in a small room that just happens to be in Brian’s office. So if you could come by and maybe let me out, nice and quietly, that would be great. Please. Thank you.”
Penny cancelled the call before Cath could reply. Then she slithered back to the floor, and waited.
* * * *
Penny leaped to her feet when she heard a door open. She raised her fists, which was pointless but made her feel a little bit more confident. When she heard Cath’s voice calling, “Penny?” she lowered her clenched hands, but not quickly enough.
“Oh, you were expecting me?” Cath said. Agnes was behind her, her eyes wide.
“I wasn’t sure. Thank you! How did that door lock?”
“It appears to lock from the outside when you press that little dimple by the handle.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, my advice is don’t take up burglary as a career choice. I don’t think you’re cut out for it. Why were you in there? Dare I even ask?”
“Yes. But just one moment. Agnes…? Hey. It’s okay.”
The pale young woman had been crying. Her mascara streamed over her cheeks in a way usually seen on models in trendy fashion shoots while they were posing in warehouses wearing impractical shoes. She shook her head and sniffed. “I’m sorry, so sorry,” she whispered.
“You have nothing to apologise for!” Cath and Penny spoke almost simultaneously.
Cath put her motherly arm around Agnes’s shoulder, and the young woman crumpled against her. “It’s okay, Agnes. You’ve been brilliant.” She glanced up at Penny. “She has. And, er, well, thank you. This is something I will pass to my more specialist colleagues, but you have given us some good leads. I was sceptical, but it checks out. Well done.”
What about Owen? Penny screamed internally. “Great,” she said out loud.
“Come on.” Cath stepped back, out of the doorway, allowing Penny to come into the office. “I’m not going to ask why you’re in there, and we shall never speak of this again.”
I will burst. I can’t not speak. With superhuman effort, Penny smiled thinly and bit the inside of her cheek.
Agnes still leaned on Cath for support. When they reached the office door, she stopped. “I cannot go there, now. He will know I said to you.”
“That’s a point,” Penny said. “And once he knows, he’ll come in here and destroy all the evidence.”
“Such as?”
“The invoices, the receipts, the paying-in slips. Which I just happened to notice as I wandered through, looking for the loo.”
“Oh really.”
“Absolutely.”
Cath sighed. “I�
�ve got to pass this further up the chain,” she said. “We need Travis over here. And Jenkins from the organised crime unit, but she isn’t here because she’s got no connection to Glenfield. Right, let me think.”
Cath stepped to one side and pulled out her phone to make a quick call. Penny was left with Agnes, who had stopped crying. She still looked scared, and alone.
Of course, Penny thought sadly. Now she will have lost her job and her accommodation.
The young woman glanced up and caught Penny looking at her. Penny smiled.
Agnes said, “You know, you English, you smile all the time.”
“We do?”
“Yes, it is something I see. I like it.” She sniffed. “Still, I do not know what I am going to do now.”
“Have you any family here?”
“No, they are all in Poland. Maybe I go home. I am a nurse there.”
“Why aren’t you a nurse here?”
“I must do some more tests but I need money. So. Here I am. I work and I learn English, very hard.”
“Your English is excellent. Better than my Polish.”
“Yes, everyone says this. Thank you. I study every night, two hours.”
That was admirable dedication. They lapsed into a temporary silence. Penny finally burst. “Agnes, you had seen Owen Jones here, hadn’t you?”
“Yes, the man that was killed. I see him here. We all do.”
“What was he doing here?”
Cath had finished her call and was looking at them both, and frowning as she listened. But she didn’t interrupt.
Agnes’s eyes filled with tears again. “I am sorry. I am sorry. He was a bad man like Mr Davenport. He wanted work, but he did not want work, do you see? Not real work. I am working, real work. He wanted money, no real work. So Mr Davenport says, yes, you can do things for me. I think … he took things for Mr Davenport, he was like a … uh, postman?”
“And then what happened?”
“I do not know. He die.”
Cath folded her arms and glared at Penny. “I know what you’re going to say…”
“I’m saying nothing,” Penny retorted, thinking, it is him! It is him! She took a deep breath, and made a run for the main door.
Chapter Nineteen
Brian was dangerous, more dangerous than anyone seemed to grasp, Penny thought. The police were underestimating him. He was used to running things, and he was used to winning. Any delay at all, Penny realised, would only be to Brian’s advantage.
Cath was starting to see the bigger picture but Penny was afraid that it was all going to be too late.
She ran down the sweeping steps and across the gravel turning circle of the hotel courtyard. The fete, laid out on the lawns and gardens, was continuing as normal. She leaped up onto a low bank that separated the driveway from a wide grassy area, currently covered with stalls, and scanned the crowd.
Brian was standing at the far end of the outdoor bar, but on the public side. Steven was at the other end, behind the taps, serving a line of customers, with Kris busy behind him, stooping to fiddle with a barrel or the lines. Brian was looking at Steven, and the fingers of his right hand were tapping on his thigh.
He’s nervous. Or frustrated. That makes him unpredictable, she thought. I bet I can turn that to my advantage. Now, where’s Inspector Travis?
Travis and Francine were about twenty yards from Brian, and both were facing away from him. Still within earshot though, Penny thought. That’s good.
Next she looked for Alf. He was involved in ways she did not yet fully understand, but she no longer thought he was the murderer. He was a sad case, but Brian was ruthless. In fact, she felt sorry for him, and suspected he was one more victim of Brian’s rise to power.
Had Brian destroyed Alf’s family? In fact, had Brian’s family brought the Gore-Smiths to ruin? Was he just the last in a line of dominating power?
Alf was quite far away, standing morosely by a coconut shy, gripping a pint of ale and glowering at the general scene.
What’s my plan? Penny thought.
Cath approached from behind. “What are you planning?” she said.
It was enough to catalyse Penny into action. No, she was done with planning, she decided. She ignored Cath and ran part-way down the slight slope towards Brian, who turned as she came nearer, and began to smile.
“Ahh, Penny May. How lovely to–”
“Brian Davenport!” She used her diaphragm to get as much volume as she could, and hollered out to catch the attention of everyone around. “You killed Owen Jones. You work for Ferg Smith. You launder money through the hotel. You exploit your staff. You have fake horrible teeth. And you murdered Owen Jones. Wait, did I say that bit already?”
He blinked, clenched his fist, and then started to laugh.
“Is this part of some entertainment for the fete? How delightful. How original,” he said. “Although as the organiser, I should say that I would have liked to have known about it in advance.”
“Penny, stop!” Cath reached her, and put out a hand to close over Penny’s elbow to pull her back.
There was no stopping now she had started. “Owen Jones came here looking for work, didn’t he?” Penny continued.
Brian shrugged. “I am a well-known local employer. Yes, he did. Many people do.”
Ariadne had appeared, drawn by the commotion. “Owen never wanted regular work,” she said, stopping about ten feet away. “What sort of work did you give him?”
“I didn’t give him any work. He asked. Regretfully, I had nothing to offer.” Brian spoke calmly and drily.
“Who were you talking to on the phone earlier?” Penny said.
“I’ve spoken to many people today. I am a busy man.”
“It was in your office about an hour ago. You were talking to someone about ‘product’,” she said. “And you mentioned Ferg Smith. What’s your involvement with him, eh?”
“I do not know the man. I’ve never heard of him. And anyway…” He tailed off, evidently thinking about the ramifications of asking what she had been doing in his office. But it hung between them.
It was time for a bluff. “I was there, before you ask. And I recorded your conversation,” she said, pulling out her phone and holding it aloft. “And I’ll be passing it to the police!”
“And the police will be asking what you were doing secretly recording a private conversation.” Inspector Travis said. He was close enough to hear everything.
Penny kept a tight hold of her phone. “Doesn’t the end justify the means?”
“Nope.” He moved in front of Ariadne.
She lodged her phone back in her pocket defiantly. Brian was staring at her. Did she detect a crack in his armour? She surged on. “How do you feel about the housing situation in Upper Glenfield now, then, Brian?”
The change of direction threw him momentarily. His smile wavered and his eyes flickered past her for a second. “There is a need for more low-cost houses, as everyone will agree,” he said, parroting in a neutral tone.
“So you’re sad that they didn’t get to build on that field?” she said.
“Disappointed, yes, of course.”
“Oh really?” Penny spun around and ran back up to the top of the low banking. She stood at the summit, and waved her arm in a wide circle. “Look at it, everyone. Look! Now imagine a vast housing estate stretching across that field there, from the hedge on the right to the fields on the left.”
“People have to live somewhere,” Brian said. “I didn’t have you pegged as one of those hippy weirdoes.”
“My opinions are irrelevant,” she said, her voice loud and firm. Everyone was looking and listening, the crowd drawing closer. “I’m more concerned with your opinions, because I think you’re a liar, Brian. A housing estate, there? Opposite your exclusive and expensive hotel? I don’t think so, do you? All your marketing is about how peaceful and rural it is out here. You promote the tranquillity and isolation as a major selling point. A housing estate would ruin
the views and ruin your marketing. You’re too clever a businessman, Brian, to let that happen, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he said, “Your opinions are irrelevant. The housing isn’t going ahead. So it doesn’t matter. Now, what other accusations are you going to throw at me? This is quite amusing.”
“Why did you send Drew away?” she said.
He blinked rapidly, then laughed. “He’s on a training course. You make it sound like I’ve put him in detention.”
There was a murmuring in the crowd, and it parted. The tall sandy head of Drew was visible as he pushed to the front. “Actually, I’m here.”
“Oh. Welcome back,” said Brian. “Did you have a good time?”
“I had a pointless time,” Drew said. “The course was not for people like me. It was awkward. I think you may have made a mistake, Brian, I’m sorry. Er, Penny, what’s going on?”
“That’s what we’re asking Brian here. Brian, you knew the housing wasn’t going to go ahead, didn’t you?”
“Not at all. Now look, Penny. You’re standing there, shouting about poor Owen, and my business practises, and housing, and Drew, and goodness knows what else. None of it is making sense. Have you been working too hard, maybe?” He smiled sympathetically. “Come down. You have friends here. Let them look after you.”
“It all makes sense,” she said, jabbing her finger in his direction. “You are the link between it all, and you killed Owen.”
“Why?” He spread his hands wide and appealed to the crowd. “Why would I?”
It was the crucial question.
Penny had to come up with something. “Owen must have worked for you!” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“You do talk a lot of nonsense,” Brian said. He was looking more and more riled, his face becoming red and blotchy. “Now ask yourself, really, who is going to believe these wild accusations of yours? You, a known drug dealer?”
That was it! She almost laughed. “It was you! You started the rumours about me, and planted the drugs in my car, didn’t you? Yet once again, you’re trying to frame Alf. But it was you! And you made the tip-off to the police. You were foiled,” she added, trying to sound as if it had been deliberate cunning on her part. “But you kept going, spreading lies about me to discredit me. You wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t feel threatened by me, would you?”