Local Secrets (Penny Plain Mystery Book 3)
Page 9
“The thing is,” said Penny, thinking aloud, “yesterday, arguing with Alice, Terry wasn’t worried about finding new premises, though everyone else in the building was. And it still defeats me as to why he is so keen on a development that he has no personal stake in. It simply isn’t in character. I know from Julian that planning committees can’t turn down applications just because lots of people object, unless the development also goes against the Local Plan. Terry Durham has taken enormous pains to get the Salthaven Local Plan amended. Is he up for a kick-back, perhaps? Leo, who did you say owned Market House?”
Leo flipped open his notebook. “Murdath PLC. Registered office in London.”
“Murdath? What sort of a name is that?” said Noel in disgust. “It’s a made-up one.”
Amongst Penny’s many odds and ends of volunteer jobs was that of typing up the WI crossword clues for the monthly magazine. She stared at her son as enlightenment dawned. “You’ve got it, Noel. It really is a made up name. It’s an anagram. Rearrange Murdath and you get T Durham.”
Leo drew in a sharp breath. “Penny, I’m not saying you aren’t right, but that’s a pretty enormous deduction.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “It’s him. I know it’s him. He is as Machiavellian as all get out and you said yourself he has masses of directorships. You’re not the only one who can have hunches. This makes so much sense. It’s Terry who owns Market House and Terry who wants to build a mall in the middle of Salthaven. Think of all those lovely ground rents.”
“And he won’t be bothered about the disruption, because it will all be to his own eventual good,” spat Noel. “His building, his rents, his profits and who cares about all the little people he puts out of business. He’ll just buy up what’s left of the lanes around the market square after the death throes and mop up there too.” He glared at the side wall of the stable as if he could see clear through to Terry Durham controlling his empire from the far end of Market House.
“But I still don’t see why he is targeting us,” wailed Caitlin.
Leo’s gaze swept the stables and yard, lingering on the exit to the alley. He snapped his fingers. “That’s because the three of you have lived in this town all your lives and can’t envisage change. Quick - who’s got a plan of Salthaven?”
Caitlin dashed out of the door, returning less than a minute later with raindrops beading her hair and a tourist map in her hand.
“There,” said Leo, unfolding it and pointing. “Look, look, look.” He fished a red biro out of his pocket and outlined both Market House and the whole Seagull Brewery site in one continuous red line. “Now do you see? Market House abuts on to the Seagull stables and the yard. If you move the entire brewery - lock, stock, barrel and stables - up to Lowdale and sold off the buildings here to pay for the expansion, Terry would snap them up under one of his many company names before they even got as far as the open market. Then, with the brewery site to play with as well as Market House, his mall could run all the way from the Lowdale Road to the river.”
“No other shops would stand a chance,” said Penny, staring at the long, slick, continuous red outline as the full horror of the plan hit her. “The mall’s shiny tempting archway would suck in all the tourists at one end and spit them out, completely spent up, at the other.”
“That’s... that’s despicable,” said Noel. “We need to tell your father, Caitlin.”
“We do, but oh, I feel so much better,” said Caitlin with relief. “I couldn’t understand why Terry Durham should be so apparently helpful, yet actually destructive, and it was doing my head in. I can go back to hating him properly now.”
“None of it is proven,” warned Leo. He glanced at his watch. “Oops, come on, Daniel, it’s running through the rain time. Granny and Grandad will be at the boat. Bye, guys. See you later, Penny. I’ll do what I can in the way of company name investigation.”
Caitlin looked at Noel. “After we’ve told Dad, I’m going to contact the managers at all the places that have put in extra orders,” said. “I want to find out exactly what’s going on.”
“And I’ll go and see my father,” said Noel. “He’ll know the architect for the scheme. He always does. He won’t mind getting us some answers provided it never rebounds back on him. See you later, Ma.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The yard echoed with the slap of wet footsteps. Above the town, the rich, malty smell from the brewery mingled with heavy grey clouds. Penny walked slowly through the drizzle, reaching Leo’s boat just as it pulled out into the river. Daniel was in a bright orange life jacket, tense with excitement, standing next to his father with one hand on the wheel as if he was steering as well.
She waved and called out to them to give her love to Charles, then crossed to the halfway point on the Crown & Anchor bridge so she could watch them out of sight. Rain dripped off the edges of her umbrella and pattered on to the wide stone coping. She hoped the weather would hold itself together long enough for Leo to get to Thwaite Manor. His boat was approaching the bend now, a small jiggling orange dot still visible in the cockpit. It would have been nice to go with them, she thought inconsequentially, if she’d been asked and if it hadn’t been for the WI committee meeting that she was now late for.
Still she lingered, gazing out over her town through the rain. The river looked strangely empty with most of the moored craft having moved up to the boatyard at Oakerby Ground, but there were still shoppers about, the cafés and pubs were starting to gear up for lunch, and there were still tourists - albeit in macs and umbrellas - walking around from the harbour and up towards the lanes and the market. Most of them had the town map in hand, pausing every now and again to consult it and point things out to each other. How many would still do that if Terry Durham got his way?
The rain was falling in earnest now, washing away the last of the graffiti. Penny felt a great swell of pride. She loved Salthaven in all its seasons: cheerful and noisy on a bright summer’s day, brisk in spring and quietly businesslike in the mists of autumn. Maybe change was inevitable, but it didn’t have to come yet. She walked quickly through the wet back to her car, shook out her umbrella again, then got out her phone to ring Alice. They’d solved the mystery, but they hadn’t saved the town. “Not on my watch,” Alice had said, and that was how Penny felt too. The theory about Terry Durham might not be proven, but Alice needed to know it before she held her public meeting at the library.
Leo could have wished the weather was better for Daniel’s first trip on the boat, but the boy seemed to think dressing up in a waterproof and having a life jacket strapped to him was high excitement. It was a shame Penny had a committee meeting but... but Leo knew perfectly well what his mother would have thought if he’d invited Penny to come with them. She might not say anything, but she’d be mentally flicking through the diary hoping any possible ceremony didn’t clash with his sister’s expected baby and deciding regretfully that she couldn’t really wear the same hat to this wedding as she’d worn to his last one.
“Steady,” he said, correcting Firefly’s direction after realising Daniel had stealthily gained control over the wheel while his attention had been distracted.
Daniel looked up at him impishly and his heart turned over. He settled his son in front of him and put both his hands on the wheel below Leo’s own. “The thing about boats,” he said, “is remembering that they take a long time to turn...”
Uncle Charles was delighted to see them all, but through all Mum’s catching up and Daniel’s excited chatter about what they’d been doing, Leo still found himself wishing Penny was there. He came back to the present when he heard Daniel describing the farm and the hens he’d scattered seed for near where Uncle Charles himself used to live.
“That reminds me,” Leo said. “Did nobody along Cliff Road lodge an objection when Terry Durham bought that field off the development company and put his caravan park there? It’s a real eyesore.”
His great-uncle looked at him. “That’s a while ago.”
“Nothing wrong with your memory,” replied Leo. “The question stands. I have a reason for asking.”
“Leo...” said his mother despairingly.
“Leave him be, lass. The lad can’t help working,” said Uncle Charles. And to Leo, “What do you want to know?”
“Just that. Did people object and what was the result?”
“There was a lot of talk,” said Uncle Charles judiciously. “But when it became obvious that we didn’t stand a chance of winning, we stopped short of a proper objection.”
“Why? The farmer at Whitegates was told it was going to be reasonably priced housing for local people.”
“I daresay it would have been if the company hadn’t overreached itself building Westcliff Close. As it was, no sooner had the last one gone up than they filed for bankruptcy and the remaining land was sold off to pay the creditors.”
Leo frowned. “Did the terms and conditions of the original sale not apply any more then? That was a piece of luck for Terry Durham.”
“That man,” said Uncle Charles deliberately, “makes his own luck.”
Makes his own luck. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I’m saying twenty-four houses was exactly the minimum number that needed to be built to fulfil the terms of the loan and furthermore, Terry Durham didn’t buy the site off a faceless company. He bought it off himself.”
Leo looked at his uncle, stunned. “But he was quite young at the time. Penny said he was putting up the caravans when the rest of their crowd were renting their first flats. How would he have had the knowledge to set up duplicate companies and then send one of them bankrupt?”
“Naturally underhand. Mind, he wasn’t as clever then as he is these days. Once I started investigating, I found it belonged to him without too much trouble. I knew what I was looking for, of course, which helped. He was so vain he’d used an anagram of his own name for the company.”
“Murdath,” murmured Leo. “They now own Market House.”
“What’s that? No, it was Hadrum as I recall. Hadrum Housing, co-owned by Terry and his father. Hadrum went into liquidation, but all the creditors were paid because Durham Holdings and a couple of smaller companies came to the rescue. I believe the laws are more stringent now.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” said Leo. “And I think one of those smaller firms was another of Durham’s companies. He just couldn’t bear to let his houses go. This was all proved, Uncle Charles, yes? The names of the directors are out there in the open?”
“Oh yes, unless they’ve been covered up since.”
Excellent. That meant Leo would be able to cite the original scam in an article and wonder in the next sentence about the directors of Murdath, pointing out the coincidence of the name also being an anagram of T Durham.
“Marvellous,” he said. “It’s always an education talking to you, Uncle Charles.”
“Perhaps you should come up here more often then,” said his great-uncle pointedly.
The weather grew even worse while they were eating lunch, so they set off back soon after the meal was over.
“Good thing you came when you did,” observed Uncle Charles, gazing out of the window down towards the jetty. “The river’s looking pretty full.”
“You won’t flood, will you?” said Leo’s mother anxiously.
Leo glanced at her in fond disbelief. “There’s a reason this place is built of good solid stone on rising ground, Mum. Those Georgian architects knew a thing or two.”
“Thwaite Hall’s stood for generations,” added Uncle Charles. “It was built to last. I’ll be all right.”
Leo didn’t miss the inflexion. He murmured, “So will we. I don’t go in for heroics any more,” in his great-uncle’s ear and busied himself getting Daniel’s lifejacket on. “See you soon,” he said aloud. “Thank you for lunch. They’ve got a first class chef in that kitchen.”
As they made their way across the rainy, wind-swept sloping lawn, Leo briefly considered leaving Firefly here and phoning for a cab back to the bungalow. However, the Thwaite Hall jetty was too exposed, and besides, he’d have to fetch the boat back to her moorings eventually. “It’s only fifteen minutes,” he muttered to his father.
“I was thinking much the same. You get your mother and Daniel settled. I’ll cast us off.”
The feel of the water was very different as he pointed Firefly down towards Salthaven. Usually good-tempered, if a little impatient this close to the sea, the river was now running faster and higher than he’d previously encountered. Additionally, on the way up-stream he’d been heading into the wind and thus relatively stable. Now, with the wind behind him and strengthening, handling Firefly felt rather edgier than he was comfortable with.
In the cabin, he could hear Mum and Daniel chattering together.
“You go below too, Dad,” he said. “There’s no point in both of us getting wet.”
“I’ll stay up here,” said his father comfortably. “I’ll never get a word in edgeways down there anyway.”
Leo grinned at the familiar joke. Dad had the fewest words of anyone he knew. He was perfectly capable of spending an entire evening nodding thoughtfully during Mum’s conversation and adding an affirming grunt or a sympathetic shake of the head during the pauses. When Leo’s sister was added to the mix as well, he was even quieter. Leo could just see him not speaking from one end of Christmas to the other if Marianne’s baby decided that was the time to put in an appearance, necessitating them spending the holiday period there.
There was a jag of lightning and an enormous crack of thunder from upstream. The rain came down harder. Leo screwed up his eyes to peer through the ever-reducing visibility and pointed Firefly steadily forward. He hoped Penny had got back from her committee meeting before the weather had worsened.
“Thank you, ladies,” said Mrs Carr as the committee finished adding their two pennyworth to the WI Show feedback. “That’s all very helpful. We will take everything into consideration when planning next year’s show.” She squared her papers together and looked at the next item on the agenda.
Penny stifled a yawn and thought rather longingly of the cheese on toast she planned to have for lunch. With any luck, they’d be finished soon and she could get away. Mrs Carr had now pulled another folder towards her. She really was the perfect WI president, a conscientious human version of the mills of God. Penny would put good money on her lists never being worked through out of order, or falling into the sink, or having porridge splattered over them because a Queen song had come on the radio and she was doing all the actions rather than concentrating on the stove.
“And while we are on the subject of thanks...” continued Mrs Carr.
Penny brought her attention back to the meeting with a guilty start.
“We must record our thanks to Mrs Plain for contacting our founder member Mrs Ingle ahead of next year’s birthday celebrations and for producing a very nice history of the Salthaven WI.”
The other members of the committee murmured “hear hear” and clapped.
Penny felt herself colouring. “Visiting Mrs Ingle was a pleasure,” she said. “She had some wonderful stories to tell me. I have offered to put her and her daughter up if she’d like to come to Salthaven for next year’s show. Regarding the WI history... I did start on it - that was how I found Mrs Ingle - but for the most part it was compiled by Leo Williams, the journalist on the Salthaven Messenger. He has experience of this sort of thing and, as you know, he offered to complete it for the WI as a thank you for being allowed to borrow the archives for the article on Mrs Ingle that resulted in so many new visitors to the show this year. I think the minutes should record our thanks for receiving such a professional job for free.”
“I agree. We will send a card thanking him,” said Mrs Carr. Beside her, the secretary made a brief note. “It is a very proficient history,” added Mrs Carr, and now there was the tiniest smirk on her face. “We are certainly lucky that Mr Williams has
taken such an interest in the project.”
Penny suspected she was now scarlet under the attentive curiosity of the rest of the committee. She was glad Leo hadn’t been there to hear the dreadfully convoluted sentence she’d only just not made a hash of. Certainly anything else she added would be open to all sorts of speculation. She managed an “Indeed,” and left it at that.
Fortunately, the rest of the meeting passed without incident and Penny escaped, amazingly without having attracted any new jobs to herself. Mrs Carr must be slipping.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It rained steadily throughout lunchtime and all afternoon. Penny started a casserole slow-cooking for the evening and tackled a huge mass of laundry that had somehow built up without her noticing. She could have sworn she’d done all Noel’s washing when he arrived home. How could he have used so many t-shirts and so much underwear just in a few short days? The rain spattered against the windows at intervals, but it wasn’t until Frances wandered downstairs in search of something to eat that Penny realised how dark it had got outside. From far away came a strange dull crack. She crossed to the window and saw lightning on the hills.
Worry leapt to her throat. Leo. Was he back from visiting his uncle? She checked her mobile and saw with a furrow of concern that there had been no reply to her
Frances shrieked. Penny felt her way to the cupboard where the candles were kept and as she was getting the box out, the phone rang. That was quick, she thought in relief and, feeling a bit foolish about her alarm, she picked up the receiver.