The Maggie Bainbridge Box Set

by Rob Wyllie

  'But you're not from the police then?' To his surprise, she sounded relieved.

  'No, but they are aware of my visit. You can check with them if you'd feel more comfortable about it. I have the name and phone number of the Detective Inspector who's in charge of the case, I'm sure he would be happy to reassure you.'

  'No no, it's just that.. well, what has come to light, I've thought about it, and to be honest, I don't really know whether I should go to the police or not.'

  'Well without knowing, I'm not really in a position to advise you. Why not just start at the beginning, if that would be ok?'

  His answer appeared to mollify her. 'Ok Jimmy, thank you. So how much do you know about the Trust?'

  'Assume nothing.' That was pretty much the truth.

  'It was reported in the media at the time so it's no secret, but it was more than fifteen years ago. Emphysema has always been a massive health problem in the mining industry. It's a terrible disease. It badly damages the lungs through breathing in all that coal dust.'

  Jimmy nodded. 'Yeah, I sort of knew that much.'

  'So, it had been known about for over a hundred years but it was just seen as collateral damage. But after the industry contracted in the eighties, the government had a sudden outbreak of guilt and decided to do something about it. They established a compensation scheme, and the sums involved were very substantial. More than fifty thousand pounds for each living miner. The initial fund from the government was nearly four hundred million pounds of taxpayer's money.'

  'Bloody hell, that is huge,' Jimmy said.

  'Exactly. A massive sum. Of course it was all very politically charged, and that's why they agreed to put a chap from the miner's union in charge of the organisation.'

  'That was Len Pringle? '

  'That's right. There was a lot of scepticism amongst ordinary miners at the time as to whether the trust was a government stitch-up, and so it seemed a good idea to put one of their own in charge. Pringle was the perfect candidate. He'd been a big hero during the miners' strike and so they trusted him.'

  'And how did that work out?'

  'Not good,' she replied. 'He scammed the fund out of millions in the end.'

  Jimmy gave a low whistle. 'Goodness, nice work if you can get it. So how did the scam work?'

  'It was ridiculously simple really. The trust was a rather shoestring operation. They only had about thirty staff administering the whole thing from a scruffy office in Barnsley. They kept a database of miners on a spreadsheet, running to about thirty thousand names, and twice a year they sent out an information pack which explained what a former miner had to do to claim their compensation. They just had to fill in a simple form accompanied by a doctor's letter confirming they were suffering from the disease and that was it. Nothing else. Then all it needed was Pringle's signature on the form and the cash was paid out.'

  'And no other authorisation was needed?' Jimmy asked. 'That sounds like a gift to a fraudster.'

  Lily nodded. 'It was. So of course in the natural way of things the list was being reduced by deaths, nearly a thousand a year. These guys didn't exactly have a great life expectancy, and in its wisdom, the rules of the trust were that eligibility for compensation ceased on death, which was cruel on the families who hadn't yet had the benefit of a payout.'

  'So how did they get to find out when a miner had died?'

  'Again, that was quite straightforward,' she replied. 'They got a note through from the miners' pension scheme and then they updated their spreadsheet accordingly. And that's the loophole that Pringle spotted and exploited. Not long after the trust was set up, he began to take personal responsibility for updating the records when a miner died. Or not, as was actually the case. It was then a simple job for him to fill in a benefits form in the name of a deceased miner, forge a doctor's certificate and divert the funds to a bank account he had set up for that specific purpose.'

  'Goodness, was it as simple as that?' Jimmy said. 'But surely there was at least some scrutiny, an annual audit or something like that, with all that public money washing about?'

  'Yes, of course. That was in the hands of Morton Waterside the London firm, but frankly they did a rather poor job. But you have to remember that the political pressure was to show that the former miners were getting their compensation, and frankly no one cared too much if a few rogue claims slipped through the net. Success was judged by how much was paid out, not how much was saved.'

  She stole a glance at her watch. 'Look, I'm sorry Jimmy, I've only got ten minutes or so...' She sounded genuinely apologetic.

  'No no, that's fine Lily, I really appreciate the time you've given me already. So how much did he get away with?'

  'A lot. Nearly seven million pounds was siphoned off over four years.'

  'As much as that? Crikey.'

  'Yes, but remember that Pringle only had to make around a hundred false claims out of about five thousand legitimate ones that were processed each year. So you can see why it was so easy for him to conceal what he was doing.'

  'Very clever,' he agreed. 'So how did he get found out in the end?'

  Lisa smiled. 'There was a keen new girl joined the trust's admin team, Carrie Jackson I think her name was. She had a customer services background, worked in a big car dealership before, and she thought it would be a great idea to do a satisfaction survey. You know, to find out what the miners thought about how they had been dealt with throughout the application process. So one day, completely off her own bat, she sent a little survey form out to everyone who had been awarded compensation that year.'

  'I see,' Jimmy said, smiling. 'I guess some letters would have gone to miners that were actually dead, causing their relatives to kick up a stink.'

  'Exactly. Within days Miss Jackson had received seven or eight replies from indignant loved ones castigating the trust for its insensitivity. Naturally she was somewhat surprised by this, and decided to do a bit of digging and was shocked to discover that all the money supposedly awarded to these miners had in fact been paid into a single bank account. A smart girl, she went straight to the police and that's when it all started to unravel for Pringle.'

  'And that's when you guys got involved?'

  'That's right. I wasn't a partner at that time, just one of the young associates doing the legwork. To be honest it wasn't that difficult to uncover the money trail. It wasn't a sophisticated operation by any stretch of the imagination.'

  'What do you mean?' Jimmy asked.

  'Well, Pringle had set up a company selling garden sheds...'

  'Garden sheds?' He couldn't explain why he found that so funny.

  'I thought that would make you laugh,' she replied, smiling. A very nice smile, he noticed. 'Yes, garden sheds. Expensive ones costing a few grand each, and all sold online so he never had to hold much stock. He laundered all the embezzled money through the shed company and again its auditors never once smelled a rat.'

  He was conscious that time was running short, but Lily Hart now seemed happy to ignore her own deadline.

  'Carry on please,' he said, 'only if you have time of course. This is fascinating.'

  'Sure, no worries, I can spare a few more minutes. So anyway we uncovered that over four years he had processed one hundred and thirty-seven fraudulent claims, worth a total of six-point-eight million pounds.'

  'That's unbelievable. And what did he do with it all?'

  'Well, not very much at all, that's the odd thing. He took his wife on a couple of exotic cruises and that was about it. No fancy cars or big houses or anything like that. In fact we found nearly four and a half million sitting in the deposit account of the shed company earning a miserable one point five percent.'

  'But wait a minute,' Jimmy said, 'by my rough calculation he still managed to get through nearly two million quid, or am I missing something?

  'Yes, very perceptive Jimmy. In fact when we checked his bank statements, we found he had been withdrawing large amounts of cash, which we assumed he then squirreled
away in a safety deposit box somewhere as a kind of rainy day fund. A sort of under-the-mattress stash if you like.'

  'But I'm guessing you never managed to track that down?'

  'Well, at the time, that was true,' Lisa said. 'He obviously knew where it was going, but even when questioned by the police he wouldn't say anything. In the end, the authorities were happy to be able to recover a fair chunk of the money and sweep the whole thing under the carpet.'

  'And then Penelope White got involved. How did that happen, do you know?'

  'Well, yes I do. Did you know that Len Pringle committed suicide soon after the affair was exposed?'

  'Yes, I did know that,' Jimmy said. 'The police told me.'

  She smiled and for a second, their eyes met, exchanging a look that suggested the meeting might not end at five o'clock sharp as scheduled. Or was he just imagining that? He was too out of practice to be sure.

  'So, he was found dead in his office, slumped over his desk with his wrist slashed. A knife was found lying on the floor beside him. The obvious conclusion was that he'd killed himself because of the shame of it all. It made perfect sense of course. But then a few weeks later, allegations appear in the press that the police had fouled up the crime-scene investigations. A police whistleblower told the Yorkshire Post that some idiot Detective Sergeant had picked up the knife, meaning that any chance of getting fingerprint evidence was lost. At the inquest, the coroner was highly critical of the officer in charge, but the political pressure was to tidy the whole thing up and so a suicide verdict was returned.'

  'But from how you describe it, I'm guessing there were doubts,' said Jimmy.

  'Oh yes. The family never accepted the verdict but they couldn't get anyone in authority to pay attention.'

  'What, they think he was murdered?'

  'They always have maintained he was, even after all these years. But earlier this year, they decide to take a different approach. They contacted Penelope White at the Chronicle and she started to take an interest in the story.'

  'She's a damn terrier that woman. Was, I should say.'

  'I met her you know. She came here just a few weeks ago. I quite liked her, she was funny. I couldn't believe it when I heard she had been murdered.' Lily gave a frown as if the consequences of that visit had entered her mind for the first time. 'You don't think her death could be connected to this, do you?'

  Suddenly she looked frightened.

  Jimmy did his best to reassure her. 'The police are still trying to establish a motive. She made a lot of enemies in her line of work. But no, I don't think they are suggesting it was connected to this.' For now at least.

  'You see the thing was Jimmy, at the time I always thought our firm was anxious to wrap the whole thing up as quickly as possible. Too quickly I thought. There was a lot more digging that myself and the team wanted to do, but Neville Prentice wouldn't approve the work.'

  'Neville Prentice?'

  'He was the managing partner here and took personal charge of the project. The only grandson of one of the founders, you know, the guy with his name above the door. He was the last of the line.'

  'Is he still around?' Jimmy asked.

  'Physically yes, mentally no. He's in his eighties and now stuck in a retirement home in Harrogate with dementia. He was already pushing seventy at the time of the affair and retired soon afterwards.'

  'So did you take over from him?'

  'Goodness no, I was only twenty-eight at the time. We've gone through three managing partners before I took over earlier this year.'

  Jimmy laughed. 'Yeah sorry, dumb of me.'

  'No,' she smiled, 'it's very flattering.' She reached across her desk and picked up a buff folder. 'But remember I told you that something had come to light? Partly as a result of the Penelope White investigation? It's very delicate.'

  'I'm intrigued,' Jimmy said.' Please tell me more.'

  'Well, a couple of months ago we were having a clear-out of our archives. We pay a lot of money to store them securely off-site and it doesn't take long to fill up our allocated space. So we operate a fifteen-year rule, anything older we review and then dispose of. It's a lot of work as you can imagine, but unfortunately rather necessary.'

  'Glad I don't have to do it,' Jimmy smiled.

  'It is a pain, and particularly for me, because I have to make the final decision as to whether a file can be shredded or not. Not surprisingly, the staff err on the side of caution, so much of it gets dumped on me. Which is why this particular file ended up on my desk.'

  The front of the folder bore a printed label with the legend MET- Private & Confidential. She opened it and took out a letter bearing the Reed Prentice letterhead.

  'Obviously I was interested in this in the light of Penelope White's visit. Needless to say I was badly shocked by what I found.' Jimmy took it from her and began to read.

  'As advised, I have set up a security deposit account with Geneva Swiss Bank, Lombard Street, London EC3. A welcome pack with full instructions will be sent to you within the next working week. Naturally, privacy is assured since as you will know under Swiss law the bank is prevented from divulging the identities of its account holders.

  As agreed, my fee for this service is one hundred and fifty thousand pounds, payable please in cash. I enclose the signed non-disclosure agreement as drawn up by your legal advisors, and assure you of my utmost discretion on this matter at all times.

  Yours faithfully,

  Neville Prentice

  Jimmy gave her a look of astonishment. 'Lily, this is unbelievable. Who was this addressed to?' Of course, he already knew the answer.

  'There were two copies. One was sent to Gerrard Saddleworth. As you know, he was a trustee at the time. The other was to the solicitor who drew up the non-disclosure agreement.'

  So Olivia Saddleworth was right all along. Sneaky little Gerrard did have a mountain of cash stashed away. A bloody humongous pile in fact. Asvina Rani was going to be very pleased indeed.

  'And your senior partner was in on it too? I can't believe that. A hundred and fifty grand quid to keep his mouth shut. And he covered his arse with an NDA. A very smart guy.'

  'Yes, it seems bizarre there should be an NDA involved in what is a very shady affair, but in fact when I thought about it, old Neville probably didn't actually do anything illegal himself. He may have known how Saddleworth came by the cash, but he wasn't involved in procuring it in any way so he could turn a blind eye. As you said, a smart guy.'

  'And how did he come by the cash, do you think?'

  'I don't know for certain, but I'd speculate blackmail. It's my guess that Saddleworth found out what Pringle was up to, and made him pay up to keep quiet.'

  Jimmy nodded. 'Yeah, that stacks up. And as long as he kept the cash hidden out of sight then even if Pringle grassed him up to the authorities, there would be no evidence. He could just deny everything.'

  Lily gave him a wry smile. 'Exactly. So you can see my dilemma Jimmy. This looks bad for the firm, but I don't think I can keep this under wraps. I need to tell the police.' It was half-question, half-statement of fact.

  Suddenly a chilling thought came to him. 'Do you think Saddleworth might have murdered Pringle? Perhaps he'd decided to confess what he had done, and take Saddleworth down with him. So he was killed to shut him up.'

  She looked surprised. 'That I think is a step too far, isn't it? Government ministers don't go around murdering people.'

  'Except he wasn't a minister back then. But you know Lily,' Jimmy said, his mind racing, 'what if that's what Penelope White had found out? It would be the story of her life, wouldn't it? I was in love with killer minister.'

  And then perhaps her lover had decided that she had to be killed too. Because Jimmy knew from his brother's long experience that the crime-novel cliché was actually true. That when you had killed once, it was much easier to do it again.

  'Look, I'll make sure the police are informed about all of this,' Jimmy said, 'and of course let them know that
it wasn't your fault in any way. That you didn't know anything about Neville's NDA.'

  He noticed her stealing another glance at her watch.

  'I'm sorry Lily, I know I've overstayed my welcome, I'm really grateful for your time...'

  'No no Jimmy, I was just checking if it was five o'clock yet. I wonder, are you rushing back to London this evening? I could really do with a drink and something to eat.'

  The offer was tempting. Very tempting. A drink, a quick dinner and then back to London on a late train. He looked again at her lovely face. A face that said there wasn't much chance that the evening would simply end with coffee. And for just a moment he wavered. Until he thought of Flora. If he wanted his wife back, and he did, and desperately, then sleeping with beautiful accountants would not help the cause.

  'I need to get back to London.' He could see the disappointment in her eyes. 'It would be lovely, but really, I have to get back.' He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

  As he walked back to the station he was able to console himself by reflecting on the success of the mission. Now they had proof that Saddleworth had squirreled away two million pounds in a safety deposit box, the transaction conveniently arranged by his financial advisor. A financial advisor who had covered his own backside with a non-disclosure agreement, drawn up by a lawyer mate of Saddleworth's. And though it was only a guess, he'd put money on that mate being Philip Brooks. A web of deceit, and a web he was convinced had its sticky silk wrapped all around that Cathedral Course dinner.

  He was just about to go through the ticket barrier when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It was a text. From Lily Hart.

  Still time to change your mind xx.

  Chapter 28

  It was nearly two o'clock before Jimmy made it back to Kings Cross. Maggie had no idea what had made it necessary for him to stay overnight in Leeds, but no doubt he would tell them when they met up in a few minutes’ time. A few days earlier he had added her to his Find a Friend list, which meant she was now able to track him as he crawled down Grays Inns Road at a pace normally reserved for old ladies pushing wheeled walking frames. Normal duration, twelve minutes. Time expended so far, twenty-three minutes. He was obviously in no hurry to get back to the office, which wasn't at all like him. She jabbed the call button and flicked it on to speakerphone.