The camera man, p.3
The Camera Man, page 3
Diver said, ‘They have looked at it, quite extensively according to the lady I spoke to this morning. This,’, indicating the file, ‘is only an outline. If we take it on, there will be a lot of material.’
‘If?’
Jason Diver closed the file again – it had worked last time. He said, ‘I know you’d rather have straight talking, so I’ll put the cards on the table. I’ve told Ms Dunhill we’ll take a look at it, hence the early phone call – she wants an answer today. I’ve been open with her as well. I said we only have one person who might be interested in taking this on. No one else here has the time or the relevant experience. If you don’t want it, that’s all right, and I’ll let her know.’
Smith had his arms folded – he was still staring at the file rather than the man sitting behind it. After a suitable pause, Diver said, ‘But obviously this is an opportunity for us. I mean, for Diver and Diver.’
Smith said, ‘Axon have looked at it themselves. They’ll have full-time people who do that. I still don’t understand why they want to bring in anyone else.’
Diver was lightly drumming the fingers of his left hand on the cover of the file. He said, ‘Ms Dunhill told me they’d like someone with local knowledge to go over their material – someone completely objective, with a fresh pair of eyes. She said it isn’t just about the sum of money involved.’
Smith said, ‘So they think it’s dodgy. And if it comes to arbitration, they want an independent expert – as they’re known in the trade – to back them up.’
Diver didn’t respond to that but he had stopped the finger-drumming.
‘Did this lady say anything about what would be iffy in the claim?’
Diver said, ‘No. What they want, as far as I could tell, was someone – us – to look into Gerald Fitch’s disappearance again. We wouldn’t be involved in the technical side of it, the legal ins and outs of the policy. The police took an interest at one point, some months after he went missing, but there was not a full-scale investigation. It’s possible that the fresh pair of eyes might uncover something new.’
The mention of the police had brought Smith to attention. He said, ‘You’d best not get involved if the force are. You wouldn’t make yourself very popular.’
Diver said, ‘I asked the question. She assures me there is no prospect of the police opening a new investigation into Gerald Fitch’s disappearance at this time.’
Smith was thinking it through now. He said, ‘Which suggests to me that Axon have approached the police. The police have said no, and so they’ve come at it by another route.’
Plainly, this was not a new idea as far as Diver was concerned – he shrugged. And then said, ‘I told Ms Dunhill that if the police were not interested, we have the next best thing.’
Smith said, ‘Oh. That’s a comforting thought. Being the next best thing…’
But Jason Diver knew he’d won a rare victory. He picked up the file, leaned forward and placed it in front of Smith.
‘Take it away and read it. As I said, it’s a summary but it will help you to make up your mind. Let me know this afternoon.’
Chapter Three
‘Oh no! You mustn’t shut her up on my account! Please let her out.’
Compared to almost all the dogs they encountered whilst out walking on the marshes, Layla was very well-behaved, especially when one took into account her age. But the sight of a stranger in the house, smiling at her and talking in the way that dog-lovers have, was too much, and she was wriggling around in excited circles inside her wire cage. The woman looked at Smith and said with mock seriousness, ‘I’m afraid I must insist! Such a lovely dog…’
The introductions were duly carried out in the garden, where Smith firmly pushed the dog down when she tried to jump up for more attention but otherwise let them get on with it. Jo had also been introduced but she was not jumping up – she was keeping a little distance, and Smith caught her eye and her somewhat surprised look on a couple of occasions.
Frances Dunhill had arrived in silence – there had been a knock at the door, that was all. Invariably they heard a vehicle when it was being driven along the track from Marston, and Layla had learned to bark now, but there had been no warning. When Smith opened the door, he could see the reason why parked in the short drive at the side of the cottage – a white Tesla Model Y. This was their first visit from someone driving an electric vehicle, and the implications for home security were noted.
Although he’d been expecting her, Smith had not made the connection immediately – he reprimanded himself for the mistaken assumptions, but she really didn’t look anything like what he would have imagined, had he been asked to do so. Frances Dunhill was blonde, stylishly attired and stunningly attractive; just as surprising perhaps, she couldn’t be more than thirty years old. She’d said her name and held out her card as a form of ID; Smith had spotted it straight away – a smart card – and he thought, if I took out mine, this would be the moment when we tapped them together and exchanged contact details without another word being spoken.
He had invited her inside Drift’s End and on the way into the lounge there had been the Layla encounter and then the return to the garden. When things had quietened down, Jo asked what their visitor would like to drink, and then she left them to make a pot of tea.
The young woman seemed to be in no hurry to get down to business. She admired the cottage, the garden and the location. She asked how long they had lived here, and expressed surprise when Smith said this was their third summer – she said they looked as if they’d always been in this place, which he took as a compliment. A person of considerable self-assurance he thought, as she led the way to the back of the garden where the view across the saltmarshes was at its best in the summer. She had arrived in a smart grey business suit but had already removed the jacket, revealing a pale cream, short-sleeved blouse which was so simple and elegant that he knew, from experience, it must have cost at least a day’s wages. She looked at the panoramic view for some seconds in silence before Smith pointed out the garden table and chairs, and suggested they could sit outside if she wished.
Layla sat beside her and had her head stroked again. Smith asked how many dogs she had and was told, ‘None, sadly. I’m in an apartment in west London, and I’m often away at the moment. One day, though… I grew up with dogs, in the country.’
No ring on her finger, and “I’m in an apartment,”, not “We are.” “At the moment” had suggested she was planning her next moves up the ladder – surely a career woman if ever he’d met one. As if he’d spoken the thought aloud, Ms Dunhill switched her attention from the dog to the man and said, ‘Mr Diver tells me you are a former police detective.’
Yes, he said, and then she continued, ‘How long have you worked with the agency – if you don’t mind me asking?’
This was a tricky question. Presumably she wanted to hear something like two or three years, and it would have been easier to say that than what he did say, which was, ‘Just one case, actually.’
‘Oh. Right.’
Smith said, ‘To be fair, he has offered me more but this place keeps me busy. And I’m supposed to be retired.’
He glanced in the direction of the door and Frances Dunhill smiled – but she didn’t back off from her line of inquiry, and he approved of that. She said, ‘What sort of police work did you do?’
‘Mostly murder investigations.’
She reacted to that in the usual manner first, but then added, ‘Did that involve much to do with missing persons?’
‘Well… Yes.’
She waited for more, so Smith went on, ‘When there’s been a murder, people often go missing. Sometimes it’s the victim, sometimes it’s a witness, sometimes it’s the perpetrator. You do spend a lot of time looking for people, one way or another.’
She accepted that and said, ‘There are a few things I need to clarify with you. From what you’ve told me, you were still a member of the local police force five years ago?’
Smith nodded.
‘That’s when Gerald Fitch went missing. It was reported to the police in Kings Lake, and they carried out some basic checks but that’s all, as far as I can tell. Were you involved in that?’
Smith said, ‘No.’
He could see why she needed to know that – if the results of this investigation ever became evidence, knowing the case as a police officer beforehand could be seen as compromising. Ms Dunhill said next, ‘You’ve never met Gerald Fitch, and have no previous knowledge of him?’
She was different now. Layla wandered away because the attention had left her and gone elsewhere, and Smith was being questioned as if by a prosecuting lawyer before a case comes to court.
He said, ‘I’d recognised the name before I read the outline Jason gave me. Fitch Marine Engineering was a big local employer years ago – I wondered if he was related to that family and it turns out he was. I’ve never met any of them, to my knowledge.’
She noted the careful caveat at the end, and said, ‘Gerald Fitch was notionally the managing director when he went missing. I say notionally because by that time I don’t think there was much left to manage or direct. The impending failure of the business could be one of the reasons he went missing, of course.’
She stood up and said, ‘If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll fetch a couple of things from the car.’
When she returned, she had in her hands two box files, smart ones – not your average stationery store versions but shiny things embossed with the Axon Life logo. She said, ‘There’s a lot of background on the company and some Fitch family history in here. Some of it might be useful if you decide to take this on. I appreciate that in our call, you said you’d agreed to look at it, which isn’t the same thing – but it might help for you to see what’s already available.’
She put them on the table but Smith didn’t immediately reach for one. In that call to her, made on Saturday morning after he had been in touch with Jason Diver, she had taken him unawares: he had expected a break-down of the work that Axon wanted done, but instead Ms Dunhill had quickly said that as she had a meeting in Oakham early in the coming week, she would re-arrange her schedule and drive up to Marston herself to discuss the matter in person. What was there to read into that, he’d wondered afterwards. Only that this was important to Axon Life, so important that one of their lead claims assessors wanted to check in person just who would be reading the material they had assembled.
Smith said, ‘Is there anything in these which explains why your company is concerned about making a payment on a claim, other than the usual and obvious reason?’
She thought carefully about her answer.
‘Not directly. The files do not include internal memos or the minutes of meetings Axon has held about the matter. This is mostly factual material – information gathered during the course of our own assessments. But I suppose anyone reading it thoroughly would begin to see there are some issues.’
Layla had returned to the cottage. She reappeared now ahead of Jo, who was holding in front of her a tray with the teapot, a little jug of milk, a matching sugar bowl and two cups and saucers. Frances Dunhill said thank you and that this was all delightful compared to her usual business meetings – Jo’s response was to smile and say, ‘I’m guessing you don’t take sugar, but just in case…’
That brought an acknowledging smile from the young woman, which Smith saw but did not entirely understand: still, he had concluded long ago that one of the best things to do with women was not to try entirely understanding them. Acceptance is an important step on the path to happiness and peace.
Jo left them to it once more – Layla stood looking biscuit hopeful for a few seconds and then also went back inside. The air was warm with the sunshine but the table and chairs were in the dappled shade of an old laburnum tree – Smith had to agree, this was a pleasant way to do business, if indeed they were. He said, ‘Fair enough. Can you give one example of an “issue”, from your company’s point of view? Something to work with? Whoever takes this on is going to need some sort of a starting point.’
It was not an unreasonable request. As Smith poured her a cup of tea – the Pekoe he guessed from the clear bright amber liquid – Frances opened her little black handbag and took out a packet of sweeteners. She dropped one into the cup and whispered, ‘No need to tell your wife!’
Oh. A young lady who likes to have secrets from wives, even ones she has only just met… On the upside, it looked as if she was going to drink her tea without milk, which is unusual. He put a dash into his own cup before he poured. On balance, most Assams are better with than without.
Then she said, ‘Forgive me if you already know some of this. There’s a thing called The Presumption of Death Act, which is actually quite a recent piece of legislation-’
‘Yes,’ said Smith, ‘2013.’
She paused and drank a sip of tea as she regarded him over the rim of the cup. Then she said, ‘Gerald Fitch’s wife has appointed a solicitor who has informed us that she is applying, under the terms of the Act, for a Certificate of Presumed Death. There’s a common assumption one must wait for seven years after a disappearance but that isn’t the case now. People are sometimes granted these, depending on the individual circumstances, in less than five years. If Mrs Fitch obtains her certificate, she can then use it to support a claim for probate, giving her control of the estate. At that point…’
She took another drink of tea.
Smith said, ‘I’m guessing she can then make a claim on his life insurance.’
Frances Dunhill nodded, and he added, ‘Which could be a considerable sum, in view of the commitments and responsibilities he held when he took it out.’
She said, ‘These cups and saucers are lovely, aren’t they? Someone has good taste.’
Yes, Smith thought – my first and only wife, Sheila. He waited – still she had not told him anything about Axon Life’s real concerns over this impending claim. Eventually she understood why he was silent and said, ‘We – that is Axon – have a responsibility to our shareholders. People much more senior than me have concluded that Axon needs to be protected in the matter. They will ask for the recipient of any benefit to pay premiums to cover all costs if there is what is known as a future variation order: those apply if after a payment the person presumed dead is found not to be.’
Smith said, ‘The person to whom you pay the money has to pay premiums to cover the costs to Axon if someone comes back from the dead? A sort of Lazarus clause?’
She gave a short but rather fetching laugh and said, ‘We do call it something similar.’
He said, ‘I’ll bet that goes down well when you first suggest it.’
Ms Dunhill said, ‘We go to considerable lengths to avoid doing so. Which is one of the reasons I’m sitting here drinking your tea. Whatever the final outcome, we have to show due diligence. It was decided that we should have an independent assessment of the circumstances of Gerald Fitch’s disappearance, as a part of that due diligence.’
A breeze stirred through the leaves of the laburnum tree. Behind the embankment, the tide would be rising, at half-flood already: there had been poor sailing conditions for a fortnight but this afternoon looked promising now.
Smith said, ‘Axon doesn’t think there’s enough in the police investigation to support their decisions?’
She was using a more corporate voice now. She said, ‘We’re somewhat surprised at how little interest they took in the matter. Obviously it was before my time but you could argue he was a prominent local businessman. They went through the motions, that’s all, as far as I can see. Our legal team have contacted them recently but there was no interest in a further investigation.’
He said, ‘Do you know whether they were in touch with the force at Kings Lake Central?’
She did not but Smith was picking his way through this with considerable care – if there was the slightest chance of him coming into contact with anyone he knew from Central, no barge pole in existence would be long enough for him to touch it.
He said, ‘I’m not clear on what you need from your independent assessment. I could spend the afternoon reading through what’s in those boxes. Then what? Or are you looking for someone to get out and about – to start asking questions?’
Ms Dunhill said, ‘You would have a free hand as far as that’s concerned – other than negotiating any terms! If you agree to take it on, on our behalf, the parties concerned would be notified by us, and we would ask for their full cooperation. They would be unwise not to give it, in my opinion.’
Smith looked at the two box files again. Did he want to know what they contained? By now, of course, he was mildly curious – he would have admitted as much. Curious enough to get involved in what was, whichever way one looked at it, a job unlike any he’d done before? And what exactly would a result for Axon look like? Were they hoping he would find a dead body? Or even a live one? He asked the question.
She said, ‘We’d like to have as clear an idea as possible what actually happened to Gerald Fitch. We know that after five years with no sign of life, he’s probably deceased. Our problem is, it was in some ways a rather convenient disappearance.’
She paused and considered her next words.
‘I realise this all sounds rather vague, and that you’d prefer a clearer end-point, a definite objective. But when I spoke to Jason Diver, he said he had someone ideally suited to this, and he meant you. For what it’s worth, I can see why he said that. You’re asking all the right questions.’
A little flattery goes a long way, especially from an attractive young woman barely half one’s age, but Smith had another question. He asked whether Frances Dunhill had met Gerald Fitch’s wife – the wife who had appointed a solicitor to manage an insurance claim. It was a question which brought forth the lead claims assessor’s most carefully considered answer.
