The camera man, p.30
The Camera Man, page 30
There was an official sort of pause which seemed to require a response from Gerald – eventually he said, ‘All right. Good.’
Fraser said, ‘In that case, I will have a formal letter of engagement produced for you to sign. There are one or two other preliminaries we can sort out now if you wish.’
Another nod of agreement. He’s very good at this, Smith said to himself, letting the client feel he or she is managing it, making the decisions to proceed. It’s the same skill-set, of course, a good copper has when questioning a worthy suspect – the main difference being no one ever paid that copper two hundred thousand pounds a year.
Fraser was saying, ‘… like to re-establish control of your estate with a view to disposing of it. We can certainly advise you on how to proceed with that. It would help us if we had some idea of the value of the estate in question.’
Gerald shrugged and admitted he didn’t really know. He’d been out of touch for so long… Fraser said he could make some inquiries on his new client’s behalf when he noticed that Smith had raised a finger. He said, ‘Mr Smith?’
During his own inquiries, said Smith, he had gained some idea of the size of the estate, and how it was structured in the financial sense – he acknowledged he’d been in touch with the former management accountant of Fitch Marine. Go on, said Gordon Fraser.
Smith said, ‘Somewhere in the region of five million pounds. Possibly nearer six, depending on the valuation of the house at West Wootton.’
Fraser’s eyebrows twitched very slightly, just the once, and Gerald Fitch seemed surprised. But Smith would remember for a long time the look on Milly Verrall’s face. She had had not the faintest idea. She stared at Smith and then up at Gerald, and Smith thought, he insisted you came today because he trusts you more than anyone else in the world. He as good as told me that. And your life just changed forever.
Gordon Fraser said, ‘I see. And, Mr Fitch, it would be helpful if you could give us some idea of what your priorities will be once we have established control of your estate. We should build those into our approach to the matter at an early stage.’
It seemed he had only one. Gerald said, ‘I want to make sure my daughter Lauren is safe, and her daughter, Fleur… My granddaughter. I want any money left at the end of it to go to them. A trust fund or something.’
Fraser said, ‘If what Mr Smith has told us is correct – and I have no reason to doubt him – there will be a very considerable sum “left”, Mr Fitch. For tax reasons alone, it might not be wise to give your daughter and granddaughter the entire sum. But that is what we are here for, to advise you, all in good time. And of course there will be the matter of your wife’s share in the estate, should there be a divorce. No doubt she will have representation and we will…’
The senior partner had noticed the finger had been raised again. He said, ‘Mr Smith?’
‘I think it pertinent to point out Mrs Fitch might be requiring representation in more than one aspect of the matter, Mr Fraser. There is the possibility she could be under investigation by the police. For offences that very much concern your newest client.’
Fraser picked up his pen once more. Gerald nodded to Smith who then explained the story in a clear and chronological order, ending with the excitement on Hazeborough Heath, and the discovery of the tracking device on his car.
Fraser said, ‘I see. “Pertinent” is the word, indeed.’
They sat and watched the legal mind at work for some thirty seconds. Notes were made and a chin was stroked before Fraser said, ‘In the light of all that, Mr Fitch, I think it might be wise to make an application to freeze all the bank accounts and assets which will be in question. A formal letter to your bank – which can be delivered in email form – is all that is required. We can have that drafted immediately, and I would strongly advise it.’
Gerald glanced at Milly and then Smith, surprised somehow that this was all happening for real, and so quickly, but he agreed Fraser should proceed as he had suggested. While that was being noted, Smith said, ‘I suppose, Mr Fraser, that a criminal conviction relating to the settlement of the estate wouldn’t work in Mrs Fitch’s favour, would it?’
The solicitor looked at the former police officer, initially perhaps puzzled by the apparent naivete of the question, and then he read the expression and saw the purpose behind it. Fraser said, ‘A conviction related to the events you have described, Mr Smith, would throw into doubt the convicted person’s chances of making a claim on the estate in the eyes of any judge I have met.’
There was much to do, and Mr Fraser was now advising it be done quickly. He said that if Gerald could give them another hour this morning, these matters could be set in motion today. The three of them returned to the waiting room, escorted by Mr Fraser himself, and the pleasant young lady in reception was instructed to ply them with coffee, tea and biscuits.
They sat in silence for some seconds and then Milly said, ‘Five million pounds…’
Gerald looked at her and nodded a little guiltily, as if he’d just been caught telling a fib. Smith shrugged and said, ‘With that, you could probably afford your own sea defences.’
Milly laughed but with an odd, hysterical note. She said, ‘You’re a millionaire,’ as if the only way she was going to deal with this was by saying it aloud until she could believe it.
Gerald turned towards Smith and said, ‘This criminal investigation thing. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time. Would it get anywhere?’
There are moments in all our lives when we hold in our hands the fate of others; the words we say will set in motion a series of events which cannot be undone, however much we might later wish it could. We are not always aware of that responsibility at the time, but Smith was on this occasion.
He said, ‘No one can say for certain. The burden of proof is a heavy one – I speak from experience. Police officers put forward cases they believe are watertight and get told they cannot proceed. Still, in the safe at Diver and Divers’ office there is evidence of conspiracy to commit serious offences ranging over five years. In my personal opinion, Gerald, handled properly, the Crown Prosecution Service would be likely to agree it’s in the public interest to press charges. And I’m sorry to sound like a law student’s instruction manual, but that’s what it does to you.’
Gerald said, ‘How would I do it? Who would I need to speak to?’
Ah, whom indeed… It was a good shortlist, some excellent candidates, but in the end Smith said, ‘I can give you a name and a number. You might as well start at the top. Detective Chief Inspector Cara Freeman. She’s based at Kings Lake Central police station.’
‘And should I mention your name? I assume she’ll know who you are.’
Smith said, ‘She’ll probably remember me. No need to mention my name straight away – I’m sure she’ll ask it as soon as she’s heard the story.’
There was no more Smith could do here, and he had another appointment in half an hour. He asked Gerald what he was planning to do once Fraser and Metcalfe had what they needed, and Gerald told him he was going to see Andrew and Lilian McGuire. He’d phoned them yesterday and had a long conversation – when they heard he would be in Kings Lake, they insisted he drive out to visit them. Gerald said, ‘I’m expecting to be in big trouble with Lilian. I’m hoping Milly will be a distraction.’
Ideal, thought Smith – it was why he’d mentioned the McGuires more than once in his conversations with Gerald. If the estate was contested or, even better, if Amanda Fitch was being investigated, what better witnesses could be called than the decent, honest McGuires? As ever, you have to think ahead; fail to prepare and you prepare to fail. As far as Smith was concerned, Amanda Fitch had been going down from the first time she told her toy-boy to follow him.
He stood up and held out a hand to Gerald. He said, ‘Good luck with this. You’ve done the right thing, and you have my number. And there’s something else you should know.’
Gerald said, “Yes? What is it?’
Smith looked them both in the eye before he said confidentially, ‘If you play your cards right this afternoon, you’ll get a jar of excellent homemade gooseberry jam.’
The small room to the right of Madison’s desk had become a second office space – another sign the Diver and Diver Associates business was still growing. Through the open door, Smith could see Polly Coverdale sitting at a table and studying a laptop screen. Madison, on the phone as ever, waved a hello, pointed at her boss’s door and mouthed ‘Two minutes.’
He walked over to the doorway of the new office. Polly looked up and said, ‘Come in. I’m only booking my car in for an MOT.’
Smith said he had one or two contacts in the local motor trade if she ever had any problems, and she nodded an acknowledgement without taking him up on the offer. When she closed the laptop, she said, ‘I hear you’ve had a result. Nice one!’
Interesting, he thought; Polly had clearly become a part of the team at DDA in a way none of her predecessors had. He said, ‘Finding the daughter turned out to be crucial in the end. Once again, that was down to you.’
She shrugged that off and took a mouthful from a mug of coffee. He was about to turn away when she said, ‘So, where did you serve?’
It’s a question understood by everyone who has, and as he already knew Polly’s history, Smith had no qualms about answering it. He said, ‘Various places but my longest tour was in Belfast.’
Everyone understands what that means. Polly asked which company and he answered, ‘The Special Reconnaissance Unit.’
She would know that probably meant undercover surveillance against the Irish Republican Army, and that it would be inappropriate to ask for more details. She said, ‘Fair enough. Anything after that?’
He said, ‘No. The way it ended meant I had to come out. After that, it was the police.’
She seemed to think about his answer before she nodded, and her eyes went back to the laptop and, presumably, work. Smith said, ‘I expect you already have a busy social life in Lake but you’d be welcome to come out to our place and have lunch one day. We’re about half an hour along the coast road.’
It was a risk, of course – she might think he’d taken pity on her. She looked back at him directly and asked whether he had dogs. He frowned, smiled and said yes, just the one but she was well-behaved and-
‘OK. I’ll take you up on the offer one day. Thanks.’
He’d heard another door open and voices behind him. Jason was there, beckoning him into the main office, and Madison was smiling – a warning he should have spotted. It wasn’t until Jason closed the door that Smith realised both Divers of DDA were present.
Katherine was advancing and her intentions were obvious – she was going to embrace him. She said as the event took place, ‘Here he is! The man of the moment!’
She was an inch or three taller than him, and for an awful moment it seemed he would be pressed into her statuesque bosom but he managed to struggle free and dive into the chair that Jason was pointing towards. Now she was only gazing at him fondly as she took a seat of her own.
Jason said, ‘As you can see, David, Katherine is fully up to speed. How did things go at Fraser and Metcalfe this morning?’
Well, said Smith, keeping a wary eye open for further advances from the tall, blonde and mad woman seated to his left; Gerald Fitch had decided to contact the Kings Lake police. It was possible the items in the safe behind Jason would be required by them at some point in the near future.
Katherine said, ‘With five millions at stake, it’s possible that even if the police don’t proceed, Mr Fitch could begin a civil case. We’d be well-positioned to assist him with that, wouldn’t we?’
The question was directed at both the men in the room. Jason was a clever young man but there was no doubt in Smith’s mind where the requisite ruthlessness was to be found in the business. It wasn’t about money – the two of them had always had that. What drove Katherine Diver was something much more deadly.
Smith said he was sure the police would be interested, and began to get out of the chair. Jason stopped him with a raised hand.
‘Axon Life are delighted. I’ve spoken to Frances Dunhill but I think she intends to call you in person, David. She’d like to know exactly how you found him in case, as she said to me, they ever get a similar situation.’
‘Or,’ put in Katherine, ‘they could just call us, couldn’t they?’
She was smiling at him again.
Jason said, ‘As I mentioned to you, the deal Katherine negotiated gives us a percentage of the policy’s agreed value if paid in full. It’s a tiny percentage but of a considerable sum. We do intend to share it with everyone involved here at the agency.’
Smith said he thought that was a good idea, and he reminded Jason that Polly had given him the lead to Lauren Fitch. If he hadn’t been able to get Gerald and his daughter back together last Monday, things would not have progressed as they had this week.
‘In the meantime,’ said Jason, reaching down to one side of his impressively executive office chair, ‘I hope you’ll accept a token of our appreciation. You and I had a conversation about the blend of things that makes an outstanding investigator.’
He handed a bottle-shaped gift-bag across the desk and Smith took it.
Jason said, ‘And you mentioned whisky. So…’
Out of the bag, Smith lifted a beautifully boxed bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. He said, ‘Oh. Dear me. This is an expensive bottle of Scotch.’
Katherine said, ‘Well, when you open it, I want you to raise a glass and say here’s to more to come. You’ve put us on the map, David.’
She had that look on her face again. It was time to get out of there.
Chapter Thirty-one
They had discovered, as Smith put it in one of their discussions, the impossibility of silence in the modern world. Walkers passing by on the bank, a fighter jet making practice runs far out over the Wash, notifications from their favourite weather app, Layla sniffing at the study door – all had been recorded on the little Sony device Jo was using to make a demo for the audiobook company. They had asked for around ten minutes of her reading but sometimes she had switched it off in frustration after little more than as many seconds. Smith realised she’d become caught up in a loop of self-criticism, and that what lay at the bottom of all this were her doubts about the sound of her own voice, which was ironic, of course, because as a writer she had a distinctive one. In the end, after three days of abortive attempts, he had had to take a firm line – this morning he’d said, ‘I’m taking Layla for a long walk. Whatever you’ve recorded when we get back is what we’re sending.’
The recent spell of sunshine had dried out the higher banks of the saltmarsh creeks. It was pleasant just to sit in the morning breeze, watching tufts of white cloud drifting to the east and the tide creeping back in – it would be full just after midday and they would take the boat out for an hour before their visitors arrived. He raised the binoculars and looked at the Curlew – he was certain now it was the same bird he had first seen almost a month ago. On more than one occasion he’d watched it depart, carrying in its bill some sort of prey, a ragworm or something like that, but surely it was too late for it to be feeding young. Perhaps a replacement clutch had been laid somewhere out on the grazing marshes. It was good to think of that, those threatened birds hanging on somewhere not far away, surviving against the odds.
Last evening he had finally succumbed to temptation, and unscrewed the top of the bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue. At the back of a cupboard he’d found that special glass, the Glencairn Crystal, hand cut and shaped to enhance the colour and the aromas of fine whiskys, and he had poured out a few drams. He savoured it and began a discussion with himself as to whether this was a serious challenger to, say, a twenty-year-old Talisker or the sixteen-year-old Aberlour; the discussion was ongoing and likely to last at least as long as the bottle of Johnnie Walker.
It’s a blend of things, he’d said to Jason Diver, like a good whisky – the things that make a good detective. Active attention – concentrating, focusing, looking instead of just seeing. Then the informed expectation – using one’s experience and memories to forecast precisely, to make guesses that are intelligent. And the final thing? He had concluded, having thought about the matter too often over too many years, that it was ambition of imagination, by which he meant the critical ability to question, to doubt what has been accepted, what others believe has been established. The exceptional birdwatcher looks through a spotting scope at the funny Dunlin and has the nerve to say aloud, ‘Why isn’t that a Western Sandpiper?’
Smith had looked through the scope of his imagination and said to himself, ‘Yes, Gerald Fitch disappeared. It would be interesting to know where he went and how he got there, but the important question is why? Smith had imagined a number of answers to that question, and one of them had been more or less correct.
He watched Layla searching through the margins of the creeks, nose down, tail up and wagging. She would be happy doing that for hours on end. She never found very much but that wasn’t the point – she was just a dog doing what a dog is meant to do. Few people are as lucky as that.
When he arrived back at the cottage, Jo pointed at the recorder and walked out of the room before he’d switched it on. Five minutes later she returned but he didn’t turn off the recording, so she sat across the lounge from him and folded her arms, waiting for it to end. As soon as it had, she said, ‘I sound like a robot.’
Smith looked at her and then back at the recorder, looked thoughtfully.
Jo said, ‘Well? I do, don’t I?’
He said, ‘Speaking as someone who has never listened to an audiobook, I think they’ll accept it.’
