Dead Man Upright Page 8

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘what you’re saying now is that you don’t necessarily know the real names of everyone Carat collects rent from – but although you say you know that whatever the man’s name on the top floor of Thoroughgood Road is, it isn’t Cross, what I want to know is, how do you know it isn’t?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ he shouted. ‘I don’t care what anybody’s fucking name is as long as they pay up!’

  I had an idea. ‘All right Freddy,’ I said. ‘We’re going to take a short-cut over this, I’m fed up with it – just dig me up the title to Thoroughgood Road.’

  ‘What?’ he said. The sweat started as just a few beads on his forehead; then a big drop of it rolled down his face and spread on his collar. ‘I don’t keep that stuff here.’ He wiped his hand over a face that had been born old.

  ‘Where do you keep it, then?’ I said. ‘Come on, hurry up. In the bank? In the karzy? Where?’

  ‘What do you want the deeds for?’ he said desperately.

  ‘I’ve just got a sudden passion for them,’ I said, ‘so I’ll tell you what we’re going to do – you and I are going round to get them right away, wherever they are. Of course I could go back for the paperwork and make you produce them, but that would be a wearisome waste of time, Fred, and you’d be doing yourself ever so much good if you saved me the trouble. Because otherwise it means a trip to the Factory, only I think a few favours are what you really need just now.’

  He groaned; once he did that I knew he was going to spew it all up. He said: ‘You’re not going to like this, but the title to Thoroughgood Road isn’t registered to me.’

  I didn’t mind it nearly as much as he thought I was going to; the news was like the right click in a combination. I said: ‘But you told me just now you owned the place. Are you now telling me all of a sudden that you don’t?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s right.’ He looked as if he had fallen out of an old religious painting called ‘Resignation’.

  ‘I see,’ I said. ‘Exit the property wizard, enter the humble agent, is that more like it?’

  It wasn’t more like it, it was bang on.

  ‘All right,’ I said, ‘who does own this house, then? How does all this scam work? Now fucking talk. Does Carat own it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you own Carat?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you a director?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What are you to do with Carat, then?’

  ‘I’m the manager. Look,’ he pleaded, ‘if you’ll just let up for a minute, what I have got here is the accounts.’

  ‘Good,’ I said, ‘headway at last, let’s have a look at those, then.’

  He opened a drawer and got out a folder which he pushed across. It was marked ‘Carat Investments Ltd.’; inside was a pile of bank statements. I looked through them and found there was a monthly statement for each property. There were four houses, but I was only interested in Thoroughgood Road.

  ‘OK,’ I said when I had looked through them, ‘only I see the payment’s missing for one let on each of these Thoroughgood Road statements – it has to be the top floor. I’m going right back to the beginning of Carat’s existence – this one let, no name, no rent received, no records of any kind, no nothing. Why’s that, then? Why doesn’t whoever lives there on the top floor ever pay any rent? What makes that particular tenant so special?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Darko. ‘What happens is I just score one lot of rent from each building a month. I take my commission and wages out of that and then, when I’ve checked the figures, I pay the balance into Carat Investments, and that’s all I know and all I want to fucking know.’

  ‘Well I want to know a lot more than that,’ I said. ‘Now this phantom tenant at Thoroughgood Road has never paid any rent at any time?’

  ‘Doesn’t look like it.’

  ‘No it doesn’t, and the question I want answered is why not? Try to look as if you cared, Fred – I’ll find out for myself, only the more work you give me the more shit you’ll drop into.’

  ‘How should I know? Carat’s not worried about it – and if they don’t complain why should I bother? Anyway, all I know is what I’ve told you.’

  ‘It’s not nearly enough,’ I said, ‘it never is with the law when it gets going. So, next – who is Carat Investments? Who owns it?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Don’t shrug like that,’ I said, ‘it really sets me going, which you don’t need. The way you’re talking, you’ll be telling me next that you’ve never even met anyone from Carat Investments.’

  ‘You’re dead right,’ said Darko, ‘I haven’t.’

  Even I was shaken when he said that. ‘I just don’t believe it!’ I shouted.

  ‘Well I’m telling you,’ Darko said. ‘All I do is check the rent returns, deal with arrears, tenants’ complaints, repairs and that’s all – what more do you want?’

  ‘A good deal,’ I said. ‘This, for instance.’ I closed the Carat file and picked it up.

  ‘Hey,’ he shouted, ‘you can’t just help yourself like that, where do you think you’re going with that?’

  ‘You’ll get it back when I’ve finished with it,’ I said, ‘that is, if you’re not in the slammer – maybe tomorrow, maybe in a year’s time, maybe longer than that, never mind. So now tell me how and why you came on as the real owner to start with.’

  ‘That’s what I reckoned I’d better say if anybody ever came round asking questions.’

  ‘And has anybody?’

  ‘You’re the first.’

  ‘How long have you worked for Carat?’

  ‘Four years – five next June.’

  ‘Think back to there, then,’ I said.

  ‘It’s a long way back.’

  ‘Long trips are fun,’ I said. ‘Relaxing. How did you get hired?’

  ‘I advertised I was in property management, someone answered.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘She never told me.’

  I was surprised. ‘What? A woman?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And you’re telling me you don’t know her name? Look, your memory is in really horrible shape, Freddy. I don’t want to have to play the truth game with you each time I ask you something, it was only fun the first time.’

  ‘I can’t tell you what I don’t know.’

  ‘Do you mean you never felt uneasy doing business with someone when you didn’t even know their name?’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ he said. ‘You can’t be that naïve. If I had to spend my life checking someone’s name was Smith every time he told me his name was fucking Smith I’d never get anything done, would I?’

  ‘I’ll tell you one thing,’ I said, ‘you’re in a fair way to get some bird done if you don’t look out. Anyway, let’s talk about money – I might be able to split you off a few bob if you could untangle your brains and remember this woman’s name.’

  The mention of money immediately made him think; in fact he thought about it so hard I thought he was going to boil over. But in the end he said: ‘What’s the use? She never figured on any documents, and I only saw her once when the deal was set up, if that’s any use.’

  It wasn’t, but I realised he’d given me all he had. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘but you’d be doing yourself an ace high favour if her name did come back to you.’

  But nothing happened, so I stood up. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘don’t give yourself a headache, why bother? I’m paid to have them.’ I picked up the Carat folder. ‘Well, I’ll be off, but we’ll be in touch.’

  ‘You make it sound like a bleeding seance,’ he moaned.

  ‘Don’t put your trust in the invisible,’ I said, ‘you might fall through a cloud, angel.’ I paused by the door. ‘One more thing – if you’ve been lying to me, or if you contac
t Cross on the side you’ll be playing with your rubber duck in the showers at Pentonville by Christmas – and that’s not a threat, it’s a promise.’

  He made some sort of noise as I left.

  8

  My next move was to take the file round to Carat’s bank. I introduced myself to the manager and asked if he could spare me a moment. He said he’d be glad to, though I didn’t believe him – coppers are like vicars or down-and-outs, they spread a funny sort of aura round them. We sat down together all friendly at his desk, though, and he opened the folder without even asking me how I’d got hold of it. Then he said that naturally he couldn’t betray the confidentiality of a client. I said I didn’t expect him to, but I don’t think he believed that, either, and I didn’t blame him.

  ‘How long has the account been open?’ I said.

  ‘Four and a half years.’

  ‘Have you or any of your staff ever met any of the people who run Carat?’

  ‘The account was originally opened by a Miss Daphne Hayhoe.’

  ‘Did you personally open the account with her?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Did you often have dealings with Miss Hayhoe?’

  ‘There was no need to. It was and is a very stable account.’

  ‘I can see that from the balance,’ I said.

  That one wobbled into the hedge.

  ‘When did you last see her?’

  ‘Oh, many moons ago,’ said the manager. ‘Four years ago at least.’

  ‘Can you give me a home address for her?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. She didn’t do her personal banking with us.’

  ‘What a pity,’ I said, ‘I rather wanted to talk to her.’

  ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t help you there at all,’ he said primly. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be too upset,’ I said, ‘perhaps you can help me with something else. Did a Mr Henry Cross ever fit into Carat Investments anywhere?’

  He looked blank. Everyone seemed to look blank when that name was mentioned, except Firth. He shook his head. ‘I’ve never heard of a Mr Cross. You mean Mr Henry Rich, surely?’

  That was my cue for a dropped jaw. ‘Mr Rich?’ I said. ‘Who’s he?’

  The bank manager gave me the smile he reserved for refusing loans. ‘You don’t seem very well informed, Sergeant.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

  ‘Well, there’s isn’t much more I can tell you,’ he said, ‘at least, not unless you show me considerably more authority. I see you’re from A14 which is unusual – we don’t see many of you. Are you suggesting that this account is linked to a criminal inquiry?’

  I told him what I was telling everybody. ‘I don’t know yet,’ I said, ‘all I know so far is that a lot of people seem to be living in the same flat at a Carat property and none of them are paying any rent. So let’s start again. Is Mr Rich in charge of Carat with Daphne Hayhoe?’

  ‘No. Mr Rich is the sole owner of the company now.’

  ‘Just a minute,’ I said, ‘there’s something here that doesn’t quite make sense. Miss Hayhoe, then, where’s she?’

  ‘From the bank’s point of view she . . . well, she just faded out of the picture.’

  ‘Oh I see, and Mr Rich faded in. With Miss Hayhoe’s authorisation, of course.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘And then Miss Hayhoe just quit the scene. That’s the part I don’t exactly understand yet.’

  ‘Why not?’ said the bank manager. ‘I don’t know the details, of course, but as far as I know Mr Rich simply bought her out.’

  That was one way of putting it. ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘Do you have any record of a transaction like that?’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘all we’ve got are the copies of the share transfer certificates which Miss Hayhoe made over to Mr Rich. It was all perfectly straightforward, quite in order.’

  ‘I daresay it was,’ I said, ‘but I still want to know why it was all in order.’

  ‘Mr Rich was apparently the beneficiary of the whole of Daphne Hayhoe’s estate,’ said the bank manager. ‘The documents came through from her solicitor – it’s all ridiculously simple.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ I said. ‘Put like that, Mr Browninge, it most certainly is simple. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.’

  ‘You just haven’t got your thinking cap on today, perhaps,’ he said. ‘It happens to us all at times.’

  I swallowed that. ‘Have you ever met Mr Rich?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you’ve got a specimen of his signature? I might need to look at that later. Anyway, I suppose he withdraws money from the account fairly often?’

  ‘Mr Rich never makes any withdrawals on the Carat account.’

  ‘What?’ I said. ‘Never?’

  ‘That’s right. Mr Darko just charges his fee for managing the properties; the balance goes into a high interest account.’

  ‘Carat pays income tax, of course.’

  ‘Of course. The bank attends to that. We handle all their accountancy problems.’

  ‘Do you have a private address for Mr Rich?’

  ‘Only Carat Investments, I’m afraid.’

  I sighed. What the manager was telling me was, you’ve run into a dead end, mate, have fun. I got up and said: ‘Well, thank you very much, Mr Browninge. Have you got any of Miss Hayhoe’s solicitor’s correspondence on file here, by the way? I don’t need to read it – it’s just her solicitor’s name and address I want.’

  ‘We have it somewhere,’ the manager said, ‘but I don’t quite know if Head Office –’

  ‘I’ll wait,’ I said.

  While I waited, I thought. I thought, here we have three gentlemen with this in common – they can’t be found. I had never heard of anyone who went to the lengths to disguise their identity that Messrs Cross/Drury/Rich did. Mr Rich was evidently the undisputed owner of Carat Investments; nobody else seemed to be involved – anyway, not any more. Therefore Mr Rich owned number twenty-three Thoroughgood Road – although Mr Cross, too, enjoyed wide privileges there, such as the luxury of living rent-free on the top floor. ‘Hen’, Miss Meredith’s Mr Drury, also lived there and was going steady with her – just as he had apparently been doing recently with the lady Firth referred to as ‘Flora’, and very likely, at an earlier time, with Miss Hayhoe too, whose property the house had once been and who had now, having signed every document put in front of her by the inconspicuous Mr Rich, vanished.

  I felt that it really was becoming more and more important that I reach any or all of these three individuals and have a word with them as soon as possible – in fact, I was beginning to put a very high priority on it.

  9

  I had some more waiting to do while I got my Ford unclamped. When the crew finally arrived I said, quite mildly for me: ‘You were out of order there, you know, this is an unmarked police vehicle.’

  But the senior man on the crew said, as I paid the fine anyway: ‘The fact it’s unmarked is your tough titty – it was parked on a yellow line and that’s enough, there’s no use screaming about it, mate.’ I’d tumbled on a right comedian here. He laughed his cobblers off as he got down to remove the clamp: ‘That’s privatisation for you – works, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said, ‘but don’t stop for a Tango anywhere round here on your night off unless you’ve made your fucking will.’

  Talking of that I drove round to a firm of solicitors called Katz & Katz in Cecil Court, made myself known to the receptionist, and said I wanted to speak to whoever it was who had dealt with the affairs of Daphne Hayhoe.

  ‘That will be Mr Katz,’ she said.

  Eventually, after a tedious wait of two Westminsters, I found myself in the office of a stout man who was furiously blowing his nose on a piece of yellow toilet paper.
/>   ‘Mr Katz?’

  He gazed at me over the top of his homemade handkerchief, sneezed hard enough to blow a hole in it, and nodded. ‘I’ve got a cold,’ he explained unnecessarily. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘It’s about Daphne Hayhoe,’ I said.

  He beamed and said. ‘Oh yes, Miss Hayhoe. Of course! Charming lady, how is she?’

  ‘That’s what I was hoping you were going to tell me,’ I said. ‘This isn’t an official inquiry yet and I hope it doesn’t turn out to be one, but have you any idea where she is?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. Why? Is anything the matter?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Your firm does handle her business, doesn’t it? Or at least that part of it where she passed her property over to a Mr Henry Rich?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  I told him I was taking an interest in Carat Investments and said: ‘Could you just explain to me as much as you can of how Carat Investments came about?’

  ‘It was simple enough.’

  ‘A lot of odd things are simple.’

  ‘Why do you say odd?’

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ I said. ‘You know Daphne Hayhoe in person, of course?’

  ‘Indeed I do. Her poor father and mother dealt with us. I handle Miss Hayhoe’s affairs myself. I know her well. She’s unmarried, an only child.’

  ‘Why poor father and mother?’

  ‘They died together,’ said Katz, ‘a double suicide, it was very sad.’

  ‘Nothing unusual about that?’ I said. ‘Nothing that came out at the inquest?’

  ‘No, no. Mr Hayhoe had cancer, and his wife didn’t want to go on living without him. The coroner was quite satisfied.’

  ‘Yes. Has Miss Hayhoe any other relatives?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘Does your firm handle much criminal practice, Mr Katz?’

  He replied that it did not.

  I said: ‘It’s just a detail – did Miss Hayhoe’s parents die before or after the transaction we’re talking about?’