The Maggie Bainbridge Box Set

by Rob Wyllie

  'Congratulations on your purchase. An interesting auction, don't you think?' he said. 'And this is?'

  Jimmy held out his hand. 'I'm Jimmy, eh...James. James McDuff. Magdalene's boyfriend I suppose.'

  'Robert Trelawney.' He gave Maggie a quizzical look. For a moment she thought he was going to add something, something that might add exponentially to her discomfort, but he fell into silence. An awkward silence, due in no small part to the obvious doe-eyed devotion of this woman on his arm.

  'Felicity Morgan,' she said, shooting them a beaming smile. 'But of course you'll remember me from the Hilton. I'm Robert's girlfriend I suppose.'

  ◆◆◆

  There were formalities to be attended to, and seeing the auction-house's invoice for eighty-four thousand pounds was the first time Maggie realised just how much it charged for its services. Fourteen grand commission was a tidy amount, and on top of that she, or more accurately, Hugo Morgan, would also have to find a five-figure sum to pay the Polperro Gallery's consultancy fee. She wondered what Morgan would say when he found he'd just shelled out nearly a hundred grand for a picture that had been expected to achieve no more than twenty-five. At least she could say truthfully that she had followed Lotti's advice, and of course he could easily afford it.

  She tucked the receipt into her purse, then looked around to find Jimmy, spotting him standing just to one side of the doorway, chatting and laughing with Lotti. It was good to see he was taking the job seriously, especially since she appreciated how difficult it was for him. Three years since the split from his adored wife Flora, a split cause by a moment of madness or more accurately, by the ruthless machinations of the beautiful Astrid Sorenson. A woman that few men could resist, and to his shame, he had fallen for her hook, line and sinker, only to be discarded when she was finished with him, like the new toy of a spoiled child. Flirting with women evidently brought back bad memories and he wasn't anxious to go there again, but whatever he felt inside, it didn't show on the outside.

  He raised a hand in greeting as Maggie came into view. As he wandered over to him, she saw him shake hands with Lotti before the beautiful young art dealer glided out of the room.

  'That seemed to be going well,' Maggie said.

  Jimmy laughed. 'Yeah, I hope you don't mind, but I said that I was beginning to think that you were a bit old for me and if she was ever on the market, I would be first in line.'

  'Bloody cheek. So what did she say to that?'

  'She let me down gently, that's the best way to put it. Said I'd definitely be somewhere on her list, but since she didn't expect to be on the market anytime soon it was all academic.'

  Maggie shrugged. 'So that's it I guess. Our young Lotti gets a one-hundred percent clean bill of health. Hugo will be pleased.'

  'I guess so. But changing the subject, don't you think we might have been the victims of a wee scam here? I mean, isn't it interesting that it ends up with just your Robert and our Lotti bidding against each other, and the price going up and up? And then suddenly, your Robert decides to drop out leaving you...'

  She gave him an angry look. 'Look, he's not my Robert, will you stop calling him that.'

  'Aye, sorry. But the thing is, you were left holding a seventy-grand painting that had an expectation of no more than twenty-five or so. Nice work if you can get it, that's what I say. And I'm assuming the Polperro is on commission, right?'

  Maggie nodded. 'They get a fee from the owner. Twenty percent of the hammer price, same as Sotheby's.'

  'So another fourteen grand then by my calculation. As I said, nice work.'

  She was still a little bit angry with him, but the problem was the more she thought about it, the more she realised he might be right. Had it all been pre-arranged, a nice little scheme to relieve a gullible rich client of a substantial sum? Maybe the auction house had been in on it too, she wouldn't be the least surprised. But no, surely not, not a revered organisation like Sotheby's, and in any case, although it wasn't her area of expertise, she was pretty sure that was against the law. As for the Polperro Gallery, that was a different matter. After all, Lotti had been very insistent that they took their seats as near to the back as possible, and on the right hand side. From where, conveniently, Robert Trelawney and his girlfriend could not be seen.

  Yes, the girlfriend. He'd kept that damn quiet, hadn't he, before and after he had enticed her into his bloody bed. Christ, she hadn't been back on the dating scene for five minutes before she had fallen for a two-timing toe-rag.

  But then again, he was probably thinking the same thing about her.

  Chapter 18

  For once Ronnie French had come up with the goods, although Frank still couldn't work out how he'd managed to make a half-hour assignment up in Oxford last a whole bloody day. He assumed the fat slob had sloped off down to Henley or somewhere like that after the meeting, had a few beers in a nice country pub then slept it off in a lay-by on the way home. As a result, the conversation earlier that morning had been a bit terse to say the least.

  'I expected you back in the office yesterday afternoon Ronnie. What is it, fifty, sixty miles? Even at the speed you drive, it should only have taken a couple of hours each way.'

  'Traffic was terrible guv.' His answer was ludicrously improbable, but a few months from retirement, Ronnie clearly didn't see any point in trying harder.

  'Aye sure,' Frank said, giving him a sardonic look. 'So what did you find out. Nothing I expect.'

  French wheezed. 'That's a low blow guv. But that Sophie bird, I'd really love to give her one. We got on really well as it happens. Fancied me I think.'

  Frank smiled to himself. Poor Frenchie, deluded as well as thick. 'Aye, I'm sure you can expect a phone call any day soon. So, come on, spill it. What did you get from our Mrs Fitzwilliam? And hurry it up, I haven't got all bloody day.'

  'Well, I asked her straight out about Chardonnay Clarke, the fact that her dad thought she was on seventy-five grand or something like it. I said we knew the company wasn't paying it, so it must have been her agency that was doing it, know what I mean?'

  'And?'

  'Well she just laughed, said I was barking up the wrong tree. All very smooth like. But guv, I could tell by her eyes that I'd struck a nerve. Behind the mask and all that she looked worried. You can always tell when they're lying guv, can't you?'

  Frank nodded. This was a new sensation for him, Ronnie French in the role of the brilliantly instinctive copper. But he played along.

  'Aye you're right Ronnie, you can always tell. So what did you do then?'

  He smiled. 'Yeah, so I decides to put the frighteners on her. I told her that I could easily get a warrant this very day to look at their books and then we'd all know the truth.'

  'How did she react to that?'

  'Well that's the thing guv. She seemed to relax when I said that. Go ahead, she says, you won't find nothing.'

  Frank doubted Mrs Fitzwilliam was being quoted verbatim, but he wasn't there to give French an English lesson.

  'You won't find nothing?'

  'Exactly guv. It was as if this was something she was expecting. And at the moment I thinks to myself, she definitely knows something.'

  'So then what did you do?'

  'Then? Nothing, guv. Not with her at least. Just said we'd be in touch if we needed anything else and left it at that.'

  Frank did the calculation. He'd have been in there ten, fifteen minutes at tops. He really was a lazy turd.

  'Great work Ronnie,' he said, but irony was wasted on his colleague. And in any case, French wasn't finished yet.

  'So anyways guv, that gets me thinking. I mean, it's obvious that someone was paying that Chardonnay bird a wad, so I thinks, get someone to take a look at her bank account. It's obvious, isn't it'

  Now that Frenchie had said it, it was indeed obvious, but Frank didn't like to admit to himself that he hadn't thought of it first.

  'Aye, it is.'

  'So yeah, I thinks, that would be useful to know, wouldn
't it?'

  'Aye it would. But it's not that easy to get the banks to release that sort of information. Confidentiality and all that. Takes a lot of paperwork.'

  French gave a smug smile. 'Yeah, it is tricky, but not if you've got a mate in the anti-terrorist squad who owes you a favour or three. Mo Ahmed, he's one smart fella, but he likes a beer or two, which, well you know how it is guv. These Pakis aren't allowed to drink, so he needs it kept quiet like.'

  Frank gave a deep sigh. Ronnie bloody French, the living embodiment of institutional racism. And he wasn't going to change no matter how many unconscious bias courses the Met sent him on.

  'For your sake Ronnie, I'll pretend I didn't hear that. So this mate of yours, what did he find out?'

  'Well guv, you know these security fellas have access all areas. So after I'd had a bit of lunch, I pulls into a lay-by and gives him a buzz. I just gives him Chardonnay's details, her address and the like, and then click-click-click, he's in. Turns out she's got a Nat West account out of a branch in Romford. And guess what guv? Twenty-eighth of every month, she gets lobbed over six grand. That's being going on for nearly a year.'

  'Since she started with the Oxbridge Agency.'

  'Exactly guv, I thought that too. Must be more than a coincidence. So anyways, obviously we've found out who's paying the dosh into her account, or at least we have a name. Rosalind Holdings Ltd. Some outfit based in Guernsey, one of these shell companies, that's what Mo said. That's all I've got at the moment guv, but Mo's doing a bit of digging to see if he can find out who's behind it.'

  Frank didn't like to admit it, but he was impressed. Maybe he'd been underestimating French all this time. 'This is nice work Ronnie, well done. So how many favours have you used up?'

  French laughed. 'That was all of them I think. But don't worry guv, another mate told me that Mo's got a bit on the side. Someone a bit close to him, he says. Once I finds out a bit more about that, then maybe he'll owe me another one. Them Pakis don't take kindly to that sort of thing.'

  Frank looked at him with disgust. There were still too many guys like French in the force, ignorant bigots who went about trashing its good name without a second thought.

  'Ronnie, if I hear anything like that from you again, I'll personally make sure you never get to lift your pension. Understand mate?'

  'Yeah, but Mo's my mate. He don't mind all that stuff. Gives it as well as takes it.'

  Frank sighed. He doubted if Ronnie's big mate would share that analysis, but it was too late to do anything about the dinosaur now, after thirty years of institutional conditioning, and there was little point in trying.

  But he could do something about Rosalind Holdings, that would be his next focus. He'd wait twenty-four hours or so to see what Ronnie's mate came up with, but if he drew a blank, that wasn't a concern. He could play it straight, filling in the reams of complicated paperwork which would grant them some sort of warrant that would force full disclosure of who was behind the company.

  But he really hoped that Ronnie's bad lad Mo Ahmed would deliver, because he bloody hated paperwork, complicated or otherwise.

  Chapter 19

  The commissionaire gave a double-take as they entered the atrium.

  'Sorry folks, but I could have sworn I'd let the gentlemen in not half-an-hour ago. But now that I takes a proper look, you're a lot younger than he was. You don't have a brother sir, do you?'

  Jimmy gave a wry nod. 'Aye I do. But he doesn't look anything like me mate, trust me.'

  Maggie laughed. 'Actually he does. But surely, it couldn't have been, could it?'

  But it was, a fact that became self-evident when they emerged from the lift into the reception area of Brasenose Investment Trust to find Frank leaning over the reception desk, remonstrating loudly with Harriet Ibbotson.

  'Look I don't care if he's a busy man and something important's come up. I'm bloody busy too, and I had an appointment at quarter-to. So unless I'm in there pronto, I'll have you arrested for obstructing a police officer in the performance of their duties. Is that clear enough for you?'

  She looked as if she was about to argue the point, then thought better of it.

  'I'll go through and ask him when he will be available. Please wait here sir.'

  'Aye, you do that.'

  'Hello Frank,' Maggie said, smiling, 'We didn't expect you to be here too. Always nice to see you of course.'

  As Harriet opened the door to Morgan's office, the sound of raised voices drifted through to the reception area. It appeared Morgan was arguing with a woman. A woman whose voice they instantly recognised. Asvina Rani.

  'Look Hugo...'

  'Never mind the look Hugo. I paid you bloody well to fix this and I expect it to stay fixed, understand?'

  'We can't do anything if she's set on this course...'

  'We can't do anything? That's not what I want to hear. So you need to do better than that, understand?'

  A moment later they emerged from his office, she tight-lipped and unsmiling, he red-faced and clearly worked up. He surveyed the reception area, catching Frank's eye and giving an exasperated sigh.

  'You must be the bloody policeman I suppose. You look like one.'

  Frank smiled serenely. 'Won't take long sir. Just a few questions for you, that's all.'

  Maggie had drawn Asvina to one side and was whispering to her. 'What the hell was that all about?'

  'It's Felicity Morgan.'

  'What about her?'

  'Trouble, that's what. She's decided to contest the settlement.'

  Maggie looked puzzled. 'What, can she do that? I thought that was all done and dusted.'

  'It was, but she's claiming Hugo hid some material assets from the court. It's a tired old tactic, but there's not much we can do to stop it if she's got the money to pay the legal fees.'

  'Which she has of course. Thirty million if I remember rightly. God, you'd think that would be enough for anybody.'

  Asvina gave a wry smile. 'It's not about the money Maggie. Felicity's still consumed with hatred and she'll do anything to make him suffer. It's personal for her, believe me.'

  Maggie nodded. 'That explains the scene Jimmy and I saw. I don't know if I told you, but she went off on one at one of his investment updates. She was a bit pissed and firing out all sorts of wild threats. So this is what it was all leading to? I bet Hugo isn't very happy.'

  'No, he's not,' Asvina said, 'and now he's blaming me for not tying up all the loose ends, as he puts it. He seems to think I've got some sort of legal magic wand that can make it all just go away.'

  'Well, at least I've got good news for him about the lovely Lotti. That might cool him down a bit.'

  Asvina smiled. 'I hope so. Anyway, I think I might need your help on this Maggie. I'll give you a call later.' She gave Maggie a hug then glided over towards the lift.

  The imminent departure of his divorce lawyer appeared to have calmed Morgan's mood. He smiled at Maggie and Jimmy. 'You guys ok to wait until Inspector Stewart's finished with me?'

  'They're my pals,' Frank said. 'They can sit in if they want. As I said, I'll only be a few minutes.'

  Jimmy gave a thumbs up. 'Fine by us. If you don't mind Hugo that is.'

  He shrugged. 'Whatever. But let's get this done. I'm a busy man.'

  'Aye, so I've heard,' Frank said. 'That's twice now.'

  Morgan ignored the dig, leading them through to his office.

  'Grab a chair,' he said, gesturing at the conference table. 'Anywhere you like.'

  Jimmy had taken the seat next to Frank and for the first time, Morgan recognised the obvious likeness.

  'Wait a minute. Are you two...'

  'Aye, brothers,' Jimmy said. 'Just a coincidence, that's all. I'm the amateur, he's the professional, although you wouldn't know it to look at him.'

  'Thanks pal,' Frank said, shooting him a wry smile. 'Anyroads Mr Morgan, I don't want to take any more of your time than necessary. The thing is, I'm investigating a couple of suspicious deaths, and it tu
rns out one of them has a connection back to your company.'

  'Well of course Inspector,' he said smoothly, 'I'll do everything I can to help you.'

  'The firm in question is HBB Bank. I'm right that there's a connection there?'

  'We invest in that company, that is true, but then we have positions in more than three hundred organisations across the globe.'

  Frank nodded. 'Aye, but I think that one's a bit different. You didn't just have a position in that outfit, as you put it. As I understand, you were very actively involved.'

  Morgan smiled. 'Naturally. It's what we do. Activist investors. But we're not involved in the day-to-day management of any of our companies. Our job is to ensure the leadership of firms we invest in is focussed on delivering value to shareholders, and when it isn't, we act. That was the case at HBB and yes, we took steps to effect change. But there's nothing unusual in that, I can assure you. As I said, it's what we do.'

  'Aye, that might be the case, but you see, not everybody sees it in as straightforward terms as you do sir.'

  Morgan's eyes narrowed. 'What do you mean?'

  'I'm sure you're familiar with the concept of industrial espionage. At least, that's what the top financial guy at HBB was suggesting when I interviewed him. He thinks that's how you find out about all this internal stuff that's supposed to be confidential.'

  He shook his head slowly and gave a sardonic laugh.

  'Dear dear, not these tired old conspiracy theories again. I hate to disappoint you, but there's no magic Inspector. We just look harder at the numbers than others are prepared to do, that's all. Because believe me, it's all there in black and white if you know where to look.'

  Frank smiled. 'Well I'll need to take your word for that sir. Now can I ask you, do you have any involvement with Alexia Life?'

  He smiled. 'No, afraid not inspector. They're a mutual you see, so nineteenth century. They're run by a spectacularly useless management, but since they're owned by their policy holders, unless there's a mass revolt to kick out the moronic leadership team, I doubt much will change there. It hasn't for the last two hundred years, so I don't see why it will now.’