Finders and Keepers (52 page)

Two enormous leather chairs on the same scale as the desk stood either side of the fireplace. A matching, lower-back sofa faced the hearth between them. There were various corner cupboards and sideboards, all in the same dark carved oak, but Harry's attention was drawn to four bureau bookcases. The glass doors above the drop-down desks appeared to be locked, but behind them he could see files and notebooks, some clearly marked ‘E&G Estates'.

There were more oil paintings on the walls than there were in the average gallery. Most were old, and Harry recognized that a couple were the result of creative inspiration, a few were very good, the majority mediocre and a handful indescribably bad. Slightly more than half were of local scenes. The rest were mainly portraits of stolid-looking men and women dressed in bygone fashions that weren't rich or ornamental enough to be aristocratic dress.

The room might be Robert Pritchard's office but Harry had the feeling that it served a double purpose as a clearing house for the goods that the agent appropriated from farmhouses ‘in lieu of debt'.

Bob the Gob sat behind his desk. He pointed to two upright wooden chairs set in front of it but Mr Richards wasn't to be so easily manipulated.

‘As we have serious matters to discuss, it might be as well if we sit over here.' Mr Richards took the left-hand leather chair, Harry the right, leaving Bob Pritchard with no choice but to sit on the low sofa between them.

‘You said that you own E and G Estates. I find that difficult to believe,' Bob challenged, with less arrogance that he had exhibited when he had evicted the Ellises. ‘I have worked for the company for eleven years, ever since I was invalided out of the army.' He paused, clearly hoping that they would ask about his heroic exploits on the Western Front. When they didn't, he continued. ‘In all that time I have dealt with Mr Owens at the Capital and Counties Bank, and he has never mentioned a Harry Evans to me.'

‘E and G Estates is part of a substantial trust -' Mr Richards began.

‘Then you don't own it.' Pritchard turned on Harry. ‘You have wormed your way into my house under false pretences and I am going to call the police.' He rose to his feet.

‘I wouldn't if I were you, Mr Pritchard,' Mr Richards cautioned. ‘And I wouldn't interrupt either Mr Evans or myself when we are speaking again. Mr Evans is set to inherit E and G Estates along with other holdings when he reaches his majority. Until that time, he will continue to receive the full support of every member of the board of trustees of his estate, just as he has done since he was named sole heir to the trust.'

The agent stopped in his tracks and turned to Harry. ‘You really do own E and G Estates?'

‘It is not the largest company I own, but it is one of them,' Harry confirmed.

Bob Pritchard continued to stand, transfixed, in the centre of the room, too stunned to move. ‘It really is yours,' he muttered when he could finally speak again.

‘It is. And I will never forgive myself for allowing a man like you to be given the authority to assault and rape helpless women, terrorize families, steal their possessions, evict them from their homes and ruin people's lives.'

For once, Bob Pritchard didn't deny the accusations levelled at him. ‘You should have said. If you had said -'

‘You wouldn't have raped Mary Ellis, intimidated her and her family, evicted them, attacked me or asked your policeman friend to arrest me?' Harry enquired coldly.

‘I … I …'

‘Sit down, Mr Pritchard. As employer and employee, you and I have a great deal to discuss.'

It had taken Harry a long time, but he felt that Lloyd would have been proud of him. He had finally begun to assume the responsibility of running one of his own companies.

Chapter Twenty-two

Mr Richards opened the discussion. He spoke softly, yet every word was precise, business-like and to the point. Even when the solicitor had been a guest at their private family occasions, Harry had never seen him speak otherwise.

‘We are here, Mr Pritchard, because we have been alerted to irregularities and discrepancies in the accounts that you have submitted to E and G Estates.' The old man looked intently at the agent, who appeared to be still in shock. ‘You do understand what I am saying to you, Mr Pritchard?'

‘There are no irregularities or discrepancies in the figures that I presented to Mr Owens.' The agent regained his composure sufficiently to raise his chin but Harry thought he detected a flicker of fear in his eyes.

‘I'm afraid there are,' Harry contradicted. ‘Mr Richards, if you'd be kind enough to show Mr Pritchard the evidence.'

The solicitor opened the briefcase he'd carried into the house and produced the records that Anthony Beatty had brought up from Pontypridd. He opened the topmost file and extracted a sheet of paper. ‘I believe this to be a copy of the account you sent at the end of last month to the Capital and Counties Bank, detailing the produce – or lack of it that you received from the Ellis Estate in the last quarter.'

‘It could be, I don't know.' The agent shifted uneasily on the sofa.

‘That is your signature.' Mr Richards held up the sheet of paper.

Robert Pritchard peered at it. ‘It looks like it, but you can't expect me to remember everything I took as payment from the Ellises.'

‘Then that balance sheet isn't accurate?' Harry challenged.

‘Of course it is.'

‘Either it is, or it isn't, Mr Pritchard, which is it?' Harry was surprised at his own insistence.

‘If I signed it, it must be accurate.'

‘If? You just admitted that the signature looked like yours.' Harry took the sheet from Mr Richards. ‘I have seen for myself the amount of farm produce and livestock that you have taken from the Ellis Estate in the last quarter. None of it is mentioned here, yet I was assured by my clerk that these accounts are up to date, as of last Friday. I have also seen the records of the produce the Ellis family have given you over the last eight years, since the Ellis Estate was bought back by E and G Estates. None of it has appeared on any of the balance sheets you sent to the bank.'

‘What records? None of the Ellises can read or write,' the agent said scornfully.

‘Nevertheless, they have invented a system that records the productivity of the farm and the produce they give you or – to be more accurate – you take.'

‘Anyone who says that I have taken anything from the Ellis Estate in the last quarters is lying.' Pritchard blustered. ‘The Ellises are idle beggars. They're incapable of running a small farm, let alone one the size of the Ellis Estate. That's why I turned them off it. And I didn't go to all the trouble of arranging the eviction with the police, the workhouse master and hiring the bailiffs for my own benefit. I did it for E and G Estates. The Ellises haven't paid a penny off their rent arrears for months -'

‘Yes, they have,' Harry countered baldly.

‘Are you accusing me of lying?'

‘Yes.'

Bob Pritchard rose to his feet and loomed threateningly over Harry. ‘Is this all the gratitude I'm going to get for giving E and G Estates my undivided loyalty? For devoting the best years of my life to the company?'

‘The Ellises are not the only family that you have cheated, robbed and evicted. There are others, and I intend to speak to all of my present and as many of my previous tenants as I can. I am certain that once we get them into a court of law, and ask them to swear to “tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth” on a Bible, they will have some interesting things to say about you and your methods of collecting rent, Mr Pritchard.'

‘You have nothing but hearsay -'

Mr Richards tapped the briefcase. ‘We have a great deal more, Mr Pritchard. And I suspect that the account books, ledgers and files in those bureau bookcases will also make interesting reading.'

‘Those are my personal and private papers.'

‘Marked E and G Estates,' Mr Richards said.

‘They are personal observations.' The agent's face reddened. ‘You have no right to come into my house and look at my personal papers -'

‘I have every right, as your employer, to look at papers pertaining to the company
I
own. And when they arrive, the police will agree with me.'

‘If that's a threat, it's not going to work,' Bob blustered.
‘I know
the local police.'

‘Then you admit you bribe them?' Harry enquired coolly.

‘I admit nothing of the kind. They are sensible men. They know the truth when it's staring them in the face.' The agent paced to the desk. ‘They'll realize that you've concocted a pack of lies.'

‘We have sent Mr Beatty to the police station to request that the police arrest you for fraud, Mr Pritchard. All the evidence the officers will need is here.' Mr Richards held up the briefcase again. ‘Coupled with the sworn statement that Mr Evans is prepared to make, I think that you'll find the case against you overwhelming.'

The agent made one last desperate attempt to unnerve them. ‘It will be Mr Evans's word against mine. He may be someone in Pontypridd but he is no one in Brecon.'

‘He is your employer and the owner of half the farms in the county, Mr Pritchard,' Mr Richards reminded him.

‘I believe I have only uncovered the tip of an iceberg of deceit, fraud and crime perpetrated by you and your associates,' Harry informed the agent icily. ‘And I am confident that a full investigation will discover a great deal more. If the local police do not have the resources to organize one, then I am prepared to pay private detectives to carry out the work for them.'

The colour drained from Bob Pritchard's face. He fell into the chair behind his desk.

‘I suggest you think very carefully about your situation, Mr Pritchard,' Mr Richards cautioned. ‘We know that you have defrauded tenants and E and G Estates. However, there are still a few things that you can do to lessen the prison sentence you will undoubtedly receive and possibly even the number of charges you will face.'

‘Prison?' the agent croaked.

‘If you make a full and comprehensive confession, and produce your private account books – that's if you kept any – and your personal bank statements and a breakdown of all the money and goods that you have stolen from the tenants as well as the company, it is possible that the trustees and Mr Evans may look more leniently at your case and not press every charge against you. Am I correct in that assertion, Mr Evans?'

‘The most important thing at the moment is to calculate the exact amount that you have stolen from my tenants so they can be recompensed,' Harry said firmly. ‘That takes precedence over the money you have stolen from me.'

‘Stolen -'

‘I can't think of any other word that describes what you have done,' Harry interrupted. ‘I would also like an exact account of the business dealings and relationship between Ianto Williams and yourself. I heard him offer to take the Ellis livestock off your hands “to save you going to market”. Was that the normal arrangement at evictions?'

The agent sank his head in his hands. Harry glanced across at Mr Richard who was sitting as calm and composed as if he were in his own sitting room in Pontypridd.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and along the corridor. There was a knock at the door, followed a few seconds later by another.

‘Shouldn't you see who that is, Mr Pritchard?' Mr Richards prompted.

The agent left the sofa, walked to the door and opened it.

A young woman stood framed in the doorway. She was a little below average height, with white-gold hair and grey eyes.

‘Excuse me, gentlemen,' she smiled. ‘The girl told me that you have visitors, Robert. I would like to offer them some refreshment.'

Her husband continued to stare at her, dumbstruck.

Mr Richards rose from his seat. ‘I am Mr Richards and this is Mr Evans, the owner of E and G Estates.' Mr Richards offered the woman his hand, and Harry followed suit.

She shook their hands and waited for her husband to effect the introductions. When he didn't, she introduced herself. ‘I am Carys Pritchard, Robert's wife.' She blushed. ‘I am sorry, I should have liked to have met Robert's employer before now, Mr Evans, but then you must know that Robert and I have only been married three weeks.'

‘I didn't, Mrs Pritchard.' Harry couldn't bring himself to be hypocritical enough to offer the usual congratulations. ‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance.'

‘I only wish we could have met under better circumstances, Mrs Pritchard,' Mr Richards apologized.

‘Better circumstances?' She looked from Mr Richards to Harry in alarm.

‘I think we should leave Mr Pritchard with his wife so he can explain matters to her in private, Mr Evans. We will wait for you in the hall, Mr Pritchard. Mr Evans has urgent family business in Pontypridd. I trust that you will drop the charge of assault against him as soon as the police arrive.'

Carys Pritchard, who had only heard her husband's version of events, looked at Bob in amazement when he nodded agreement.

‘One more thing, Mr Pritchard.' Harry avoided Carys Pritchard's eye. ‘As of now, you are no longer E and G's agent.' He followed Mr Richards into the passageway and closed the door. A few seconds later they heard a woman cry.

*……*……*

Harry stepped off the Pontypridd train, handed his ticket to the collector in his box and ran down into Station Yard. His mother had parked her car close to the entrance so he wouldn't miss her. Her hand flew to her mouth when she saw him.

‘Harry, your face!'

He glanced at the jacket of his suit that he'd folded over his arm to make sure that the bloodstains couldn't be seen. ‘I'm fine, Mam, it looks worse than it is.'

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. ‘Why are you in shirt-sleeves in the middle of town? You didn't travel that way, I hope.'