The Maggie Bainbridge Box Set

by Rob Wyllie

  Jimmy raised an eyebrow. 'What, Melody Montague was here? She never told me that.'

  She gave him a puzzled look. 'Nah, it wasn't her. It was that guy, the one whose son's missing. You know, Charles Grant.'

  Charles Grant. What the hell had he been doing here? What with his social media spats and now this, Mr Grant had a few questions to answer, make no mistake. And then there was McCartney's surprising reaction when the death of Kylie Ward was brought up. Did he know something, something he wasn't telling? Perhaps if they figured out what that was, they might start to make some progress at last.

  Still distracted by his musings, he became vaguely aware that Amanda was still speaking.

  'Look, if you want to visit again, there's no need to go through the official channels,' she was saying. 'Just give me a call, I'll give you my mobile. Here, I'll write it on your hand.'

  Chapter 17

  It was only a couple of weeks since they had taken on the Charles Grant case, advisedly or otherwise, but regular progress meetings had been part of the arrangement and the first of them had now fallen due. And what a momentous period it had been with the brutal murders of Benjamin Fox and Allegra Ross still front page news in every paper. Maggie and Jimmy had learnt from Frank that Darren Venables of the White British League had been arrested for the crime, but all the media had been told at this stage was that a forty-six-year-old man was helping them with their enquiries. Reflecting the priorities of their readership, the entertainment correspondents seemed more concerned with the impact of the killings on Bow Road, speculating how the writers would deal with the loss of two of its leading characters. And now Maggie and Jimmy recognised they would need to watch what they said in front of Grant, knowing his link to Venables, however tenuous it might be.

  They had offered to meet him for lunch, forgetting that eating in public could often be more pain than pleasure for those in the public eye, so instead agreed that he would come into their office at around eleven.

  'And no selfies,' Jimmy had said to Elsa as he arrived earlier that morning, but he needn't have worried since she claimed never to have heard of Grant.

  The actor arrived promptly, the young receptionist ushering him through to one of the office suite's shared meeting rooms.

  'I've booked it for an hour,' Maggie said, smiling. 'Should be enough I would think.'

  He nodded. 'I guess that means there's not been much progress?'

  'To be fair, it's only been a couple of weeks,' Jimmy said, 'but actually we have got some ideas. Although it's early days it's not looking unpromising.'

  Early days was one of his brother's favourite sayings, although Frank seemed to describe every case as being in its early days until five minutes before he solved it.

  'Yes,' Maggie said, 'so I think I'm right in saying that from the start, the police always assumed it was about the ransom. You were targeted because you are a famous actor and they assumed therefore that you would be able to raise the kind of sum they were looking for '

  Grant shrugged. 'Yes, well that's what the police thought. What else could it be?'

  'And you definitely had no reason to think otherwise?' Jimmy asked.

  He shook his head. 'No, why should I have?'

  Maggie gave him an uncertain look.

  'It's just that looking at your social media postings and your Guardian pieces, you're an advocate of what I think is described as progressive politics, is that right?'

  The question did not seem to perturb Grant.

  'Yes, that's correct. I've always been a strong supporter of the fight against inequality. It's in my DNA I think.' To Maggie's mind, there was more than a hint of superiority in the way he said it.

  'But we can't help but notice that you seem to attract some pretty vitriolic trolling online,' Jimmy said. 'Doesn't it bother you?'

  'On the contrary,' he replied, 'the far-right idiots hate to see their world view being challenged. I see it as my duty to do so. But I have to ask, why are you so interested in my political views?'

  'I'm not sure how to put this diplomatically Charles,' Jimmy said, 'but you do seem to have made some quite vicious enemies.'

  Grant sighed. 'Ah, I assume you must be talking about the cowardly da Vinci. Yes, he does seem to get particularly angry, which makes me assume he is some pathetic inadequate holed up in a ghastly bed-sit in Streatham or somewhere equally horrid.'

  'And you're sure it's a he?' Jimmy asked.

  'Oh yes, I'm quite sure it's a he. Women tend to be much more polite and usually choose an identifiable user name like JaneX or suchlike. But, tell me, where are we going with this?'

  Maggie frowned. 'We're not sure. But it presents a possible motive that wasn't considered in the original case, so we think it is worth looking into.'

  'What, some sort of far-right plot directed at little old me?' He sounded sceptical.

  'Why not?' she said. 'There are people out there with extreme views and violence is in their DNA. So yes, it is something we at least want to explore.'

  Including finding out who the hell da Vinci was, although that wasn't something she was going to promise her client right now. That would depend on Frank and his tame forensic officer. But of course, it wasn't difficult to have an intelligent guess of who it might be.

  'You don't think it could be the work of Darren Venables, do you? He's known as D-V, isn't he? And we know that he made a particularly nasty comment on your social media just after Jamie was taken.'

  Grant shook his head. 'Well, it did cross my mind, and in fact I did tell the police of my suspicions when they interviewed me in connection with Benjamin's killing. But afterwards I was not so sure. You see, I think Mr Venables is too full of himself to hide behind a nom de plume.'

  The same thought had occurred to Maggie, but she was amused to hear this evidently self-regarding man attribute the same traits of vanity to someone whose views were opposed to his own in every way.

  'I tend to agree with you,' she said, 'but da Vinci is very persistent isn't he? Because his activities have been going on for several years as I understand it.'

  His tone was dismissive. 'Well, as I said, I'm sure he's just some inadequate holed up in a garret somewhere. I don't allow his activities as you call them to distract me from my very important work in the fight for equality.'

  She shot Jimmy a raised eyebrow but made no comment. Instead she asked,

  'And can I ask you about your relationship with Benjamin Fox? Were you friends, away from the show I mean?'

  'Not really,' Grant said matter-of-factly. 'I presume you are asking because you have found out about our little quarrel last year. I admit I may have been rather sharp with him, but surely you can see how it might hurt our cause when we have rather minor celebrities jumping on the bandwagon simply for the publicity?'

  'And how did Mr Fox feel about that?' Jimmy asked. 'Not too pleased I would imagine. And yet it didn't stop him turning up to speak at the Hyde Park rally last month, did it?'

  'I don't wish to speak ill of the dead,' Grant said, 'but, really, I rest my case. Benjamin and Miss Ross were hardly likely to turn down such a prestigious opportunity to display their virtue in public, now were they?'

  Maggie gave him a look that betrayed her surprise. 'They were murdered Mr Grant, and yet that doesn't seem to be causing you the least concern.' He was a client and she knew she ought not to speak to him in that manner, but it was hard not to, given the breathtaking narcissism of the man.

  'It is a terrible tragedy of course. I'm sorry if I don't sound more regretful, but I didn't like either of them. They were very average actors in my opinion.'

  'Yet you were a witness to Benjamin Fox's pre-nuptial agreement.'

  He shrugged. 'That was a long time ago. Besides, that was purely business. And with regard to that matter, I've brought along my copy of the document.' He removed a slim booklet from the folder he was carrying and passed it across to them. 'You are welcome to keep it. It's of no use to me.'

  Maggie pick
ed up the document, and riffled through it until she came to the page that laid out the terms of the agreement. There was no doubt about it, none whatsoever. Benjamin Fox was due seventy-five percent of the marital assets, and in the absence of Melody Montague's copy, there was nothing to say otherwise. Except that Fox wasn't around to reap the benefit. Now she presumed the estate would pass to his sister Edwina. And one thing was certain. She hadn't murdered him, being five thousand miles away at the time of his death. But there would be plenty of opportunity to consider all of that later.

  'Well, it does seem to support what Benjamin told us,' Maggie said. 'Now there's just one more thing maybe you can help us with. Blake McCartney. Why did you visit him in prison?'

  Grant peered at her over his glasses. 'Who says I did?'

  'I visited him myself,' Jimmy said. 'To see what he knew about the pre-nup. And when I was leaving, a prison officer told me you'd been to see him.'

  'Ah well, I've been found out then,' he answered, quite calmly. 'Before his imprisonment, he had been helping me with a contractual matter with regard to some corporate work I was doing. But I fell out with the client and was anxious to understand if I had any redress under the contract. You see, in this case I had lodged the only copy of the agreement with him. That was a mistake which I will not repeat.'

  It sounded half-plausible to Maggie, especially the bit about him falling out with his client.

  'And was he able to help you?'

  'No. He could not recall any of the detailed terms and conditions I'm afraid.'

  'And yet, you visited him twice.'

  Grant gave a rueful look. 'Yes, and what a waste of time that was. You see, on my first visit he promised he would have something for me next time, but he hadn't. I think he just said it so that I would come back. So that he could get out of his cell for an hour. He doesn't get many visitors you see.'

  Jimmy gave a wry smile. 'Aye, he does seem to be Billy no-mates. But actually, there was one thing that struck me as odd. I asked him about Kylie Ward. He behaved very oddly when I mentioned her name. Why do you think that was?'

  'I really can't help you with that,' Grant said impassively. 'As I said, I only met McCartney three times including when I witnessed the agreement, and her just once. But he is an untrustworthy little man in all respects so nothing would surprise me about him.'

  Evidently he was now anxious to draw the meeting to a close. 'Look, I'd like to help you but really there's nothing I can add. Now, if there's nothing else, I've got a lunch appointment.'

  'Yes, I think we're probably done for today,' Maggie said, reflecting that their client seemed to have quickly overcome his aversion for dining in public, 'and obviously if anything turns up before our next meeting I will let you know. So enjoy your lunch. Going anywhere special?'

  Grant laughed. 'Oh goodness no, I'm not going to a restaurant. Sharon is cooking for me. At her flat. She's a very good cook, and I expect we will have a lovely lunch and then, well, what could be a better than a little spot of afternoon delight?' He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. 'We're in love you know, head over heels. In fact I've already bought the ring and I have high hopes she will accept me. You see, Sharon Trent is the best thing that's ever happened to me. I would do anything for her, she really is the most wonderful woman.'

  That would be the same Sharon Trent who not more than three weeks ago had written her number on the back of Jimmy Stewart's hand.

  Chapter 18

  The call had come in at four twenty-two pm on that damp July afternoon. The fourteenth of the month to be precise and by coincidence, the national day of France. La Fête nationale, that was what they called it, but Frank Stewart knew nothing of French history. Bastille day? Up until that point in his life he'd never heard of it, but it was to be a day he was destined to remember for a very long time. In every investigation, there was a turning point, the sweetest of moments when all the hopeless hunches and futile going-nowhere speculations suddenly turned to gold, when the fog dispersed in front of your eyes and everything became crystal clear. That's how he felt after the phone call from Inspector Marie Laurent, still hard at work on her country's most important anniversary when most of her countrymen had buggered off to the beach.

  He recognised immediately the three-three international dialling code, causing his heart to skip a beat. They had agreed to touch base once a month, but this call was barely a week since they had last spoken. Something must have turned up. Something big.

  'Bonjour Marie, it's great to hear from you so soon.'

  'Bonjour Frank, your French accent is improving, I must say.' And yours is lovelier than ever, he thought.

  'I'm trying Marie, I'm trying, but us Glaswegians can't even speak English properly, never mind French.'

  She laughed. 'Well I think it is very nice, and we French and Scots are great friends in history I think.'

  'That's right,' Frank said. 'We call it the Auld Alliance. Auld means old in proper old Scots.'

  'Ah yes, I have heard of it. I think we had the common enemy in England, is that not true?'

  'Aye, I think you're right Marie, but we're all big pals now. Us and the English I mean.'

  'Well, I'm not so sure France and England will ever be lovers, but yes, I think we are quite good friends now.'

  'Yes, I agree, I think. But I guess you're not calling me to give me a history lesson, are you?' Even though he clearly needed one.

  'No, I'm not.' She hesitated before continuing. 'Frank, something has arisen that may be relevant to your enquiry. To our enquiry I should say.'

  He tried in vain to suppress his excitement. 'Goodness, that's fast work Marie. Tell me more, please.'

  'It's really just a very lucky break, but of course we are grateful for it. The big congratulations must go to our Dutch colleagues in the city of Leiden. To them it is very important to have the international cooperation especially within Europe and so they always consider Interpol in their investigations and communications. Frank, you remember I told you about the Kitty Lawrence case in Bordeaux?'

  How could he forget? That was the case that had transformed his crazy hunch into a reasonable each-way bet. Now he was longing for more, something that would turn it into an odds-on favourite.

  'Sure Marie, I remember. Go on.'

  'Well I have been told of a new case in Leiden in Holland which is very interesting. It is a big university town, in fact it has the oldest university in the Netherlands and one of the biggest too, with over one thousand teaching and research staff. Which brings me to the name of Professor Henk van Duren.'

  'Should I have heard of him?'

  'If you are Scottish like you or French like me, no, you will probably not have heard of him. But if you are Dutch, yes. He is very famous in Holland, a popular historian who is always on television. And not just here in the Netherlands. He worked for many years in America at the famous Princeton University and is very well-known on the history channels over there too. You may have seen him too in England.'

  Frank laughed. 'I'm afraid history's not my specialist subject. Now if he was a rock guitarist, that would be a different thing all together. But I'm getting off the point, sorry. Tell me what's happened.'

  'There has been another kidnapping. Exactly like our other two. Exactly like them.'

  'Christ Marie, this is good news.' He knew the words were a clumsy choice but he was sure she would know what he meant. Another case with the same MO meant more information to get your teeth into and more chance that the perpetrators would make the stupid little mistake that gave them away. And they always did, no matter how clever they thought they were. So from the selfish point of view of the investigation, it was good news.

  'This time it was a little boy, his name is Brandon and he is just six years old.'

  'Hang on Marie. Brandon did you say? Is that name popular in Holland?'

  'I don't know, but it seems Mrs Van Duren is American and Brandon was born there when his father was at Princeton so I think tha
t is the reason. But Frank, I have to tell to you there is something terrible about this case which has caused a great public outcry in the Netherlands.'

  'What was that?'

  'Brandon had been left in the car outside a convenience store whilst his mother ran in to buy some milk.'

  'Christ, don't tell me,' Frank said, feeling his heart sink. 'With the keys in the ignition and the engine running.'

  'Yes, I am afraid that is the truth. The shop-owner told the police that this was the habit of Mrs van Duren almost every day.'

  'And someone only had to jump in to the driver's seat and speed off with the boy in the back.'

  'That is what happened, yes. That was three days ago. And now of course if the cases are connected, we must wait for the ransom call.'

  ◆◆◆

  This time the dialling code said three-one. Eight in the morning and barely ten hours since he had got the news from Interpol in Lyon, it seemed the Dutch politie already had something to share with him. This was all turning out too good to be true but he would take it any day of the week. The voice at the other end of the line was loud, authoritative and over-familiar. That didn't bother Frank. He'd met a few Dutch cops in his time and recognised this as perfectly normal.

  'Hi Frank,' boomed the voice, 'this is Marco from the Leiden police. Inspector Marco Boegenkamp. A good day to you.'

  Instantly, Frank could tell he was going to like this guy. He didn't know why, it was just a gut feeling, and over the years, he had learned to trust his gut. He decided to reply with matching familiarity. 'Hi Marco, good to speak to you mate.'

  'Ah, I hear from your voice Frank that you are Scottish. Kenny Dalgleish, Alan Hansen, Graeme Souness, I loved them all when I was a boy. They were great footballers and we Dutch know something about great footballers don't you think?'

  Frank laughed. 'Aye, you're not wrong there, you've had a few in your time. Van Basten, Van Nistelroy, Bergkamp, and not forgetting Johann Cruyff the master. But I take it you're a Liverpool fan then Marco? You must be happy with how it's going at the moment.'