The Borough

by Steve Dockray

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  "I think Westerman lives somewhere along here," said Winner, as they wound their way up through the lower levels of River Heights.

  Sally looked out of the window, happy to leave the driving to Winner. "Which one would you like," she asked.

  Just then they passed a driveway opening which gave a sudden framed snapshot of the estuary below.

  "It's hard to see through all this shrubbery. That's what wealth buys you, isn't it? Nice thick hedges and the houses hidden and private."

  A Rolls-Royce passed by going in the other direction, followed by a big BMW. Winner felt that his Ford Escort must be lowering the tone of the place, even if it was only two years old.

  "That's Westerman's house," said Sally, pointing out a mock Tudor house that peeped out between the trees.

  "Yes, I remember it now. I think we have to turn up here."

  Winner turned into a steeply rising section of road that came up to a T junction on Waterview Drive.

  "It goes round in a loop," said Sally. "It doesn't matter which way you turn."

  The entrances were widely spaced now, just small gaps in long smooth neatly trimmed hedges. They drove along past a section of eight foot high wall topped by another couple of feet of hedge. In the centre of the wall was a pair of substantial solid wooden gates, firmly shut against the world. Winner pulled up opposite when he saw the small brass nameplate fixed to the gate pillar. 'Cedar Park'.

  "Drive on," said Sally. Winner pulled away. "There was a television camera on top of one of the pillars. We don't want to be caught looking."

  "They must get a lot of sightseers up here," said Winner. "They won't have noticed that brief stop."

  "No, you're right, I mustn't get too paranoid about it. If we carry on round here we'll get to see the back, as well."

  The road looped round, but there were no gaps in the wall at the rear of the property.

  Suddenly Winner swung the steering wheel and they crossed over the centre line of the road.

  "What are you doing!"

  Winner had driven up onto the pavement alongside the wall. He squeezed out of his door and after a quick glance up and down the road he climbed onto the bonnet, then onto the roof, so that he could just see over the top of the wall. Sally looked frantically up and down the road, praying all the time that no cars would appear. A few seconds later his feet appeared again on the bonnet and he was soon back in the car.

  "That was a crazy thing to do," she said, as they pulled back onto the road. "A car might have come round the corner at any moment."

  "Nobody saw me. It's quite a big house, set in the middle of lawns and shrubs. He must be very worried about security, though. I didn't touch the top of the wall, which is just as well, because there are some sort of detection wires running all the way round."

  Winner crunched the gears as he changed up, a small mistiming with the clutch pedal that betrayed his tension.

  "He must have made plenty of money to afford a place like this," Sally suggested. "If any houses in Sharmouth are worth a million, this would be one of them. Not just the purchase price, either. You'd need staff to look after the property and gardens."

  "It's not a world we know much about," said Winner. "Where to next?"

  "I've got five addresses, plus the office address that was given in the annual report. The closest is the office."

  Winner completed the loop of Waterview Drive round the top of River Heights, then retraced his route down through the winding residential roads to where the access road joined the bypass. A left turn and then a few hundred yards before they were over the estuary bridge and could turn back into the main part of Sharmouth.

  Five minutes later, he parked some distance from the end of The Crescent and they locked the car and walked along like a couple out for a Sunday morning stroll. The road lived up to its name, the elegant run of the Victorian terrace sweeping round in a gentle curve. The Crescent was separated from the main High Street by a D shaped area of grass and ornamental trees with a park bench and a statue of some long forgotten local celebrity. Nearly all the door pillars displayed one or more small brass plates. About a third of the way round the curve, they found one that said 'Cavendish Management - 3rd Floor'.

  "This is probably just an office to avoid dealing with Council business from home," said Winner. "There's nothing much for us to see. To judge by the number of brass plates by the entrance, they must be quite small suites of offices."

  "This one wasn't on Nigel's list, anyway."

  "It was worth a look. We want to find out everything we can about Cavendish."

  They completed their walk by returning along the pavement on the opposite side of the park area.

  "Gorston next," said Sally, once they were back in the car. "Four of the addresses are there. We know that one is Cameron Peters, the estate agents, and one of the others is some sort of land company. I don't know what the other two are. I hope you've got a map."

  Being Sunday, the roads were very quiet, and it only took about twenty minutes before they were parked at one end of the shopping street. Sally remembered where the Cameron Peters office was, and they were soon standing outside, looking at the properties for sale. Winner jotted down the names of the partners from the list that was helpfully displayed in the window. Although one of the windows was full of pictures of private houses, the other was mostly taken up with aerial photos of parcels of land.

  "Quite a big business for a small town like Gorston," Winner said. "Eight partners and property advertised as far as thirty miles away." He unfolded his map of Gorston and looked for Holder Street. It was only five minutes walk away, so they left the car where it was.

  "What's this next one supposed to be?" Sally asked, as they walked along.

  "It's the second land company. I don't know if it's an estate agents or some sort of land management business. It must be just down here."

  They turned into Holder Street, a small side road with just a few shops at the main shopping street end. It was another small brass plate that advertised the offices of Gorston Lands. There was a small window by the door, through which could be seen a reception area with a desk and three visitors' chairs. A small sign announced that the company was involved in land management and surveying. As a guide to their expertise, the partners' names were listed with their professional memberships. Winner recorded them on his notepad.

  Two hours later, they were sat in a pub in Petermere. Winner was disappointed by the lack of a log fire, but time was slipping by and they had both felt the need for some lunch.

  "Well, it's been a pleasant enough morning tour," said Sally, "but have we learned anything?"

  "We've caught a glimpse of Cavendish's house. We know where his Sharmouth office is. We've seen an estate agents, a land management company, a building supplies warehouse, a haulage company, and here in Petermere a firm that deals in some sort of financial services."

  Sally finished off her game pie and sat back in her seat, relieved to find that the warmth of the room was starting to filter through to her feet. The financial services company had been hard to find, and they had wasted half an hour searching while her feet turned to blocks of ice. Perhaps the fur lined boots would have been a better choice today.

  "Yes, I can't deny that those are the places we've seen, but what do they tell us?"

  "I don't know what I expected, really," said Winner. "It might all have been a waste of time, but we have added to Nigel's notes. We've got partners' names for three of the businesses. We know now that the building supplies warehouse is run by a limited company, so we should be able to get copies of their annual returns and see who the directors are."

  "There must have been some connection between the businesses on the list," Sally suggested, "or maybe they each have some sort of link with Cavendish?"

  "It's got to be one or the other," Winner agreed.

  "What do we do next?"

  "We could try some of tha
t chocolate gateau." He pointed at the dessert trolley.

  "In pursuit of our investigations, I meant. Mind you, the gateau does look rather good."

  "We have to try and find the links. We go through the minutes to find out who won the tenders for the Prince of Wales estate. We send away for the warehouse company accounts to see who the directors are. We could look at the company that wants to develop the superstore and see if they have any connections. Anything we can think of, I suppose."

  "It's all a bit vague, isn't it?"

  Winner himself was beginning to think the chances of them making a breakthrough were rather slim.

  "We'll just have to see what turns up. It's busy in the office at the moment, with all this work trying to trim the budget back. I'll make whatever investigations I can and we'll hunt through minutes and any information we can get our hands on."

  "You're probably right," Sally agreed, "but we can't do anything more this afternoon. I need to sort out some of my stuff to bring over to your flat. Then maybe we can curl up on the sofa and watch a film."