Full of Money (22 page)

‘Once, he seemed to forget he'd bulked himself out and bumped against this lectern and obviously knocked the wind out of himself. It made him lose the line of his chat for a while. I thought he wouldn't recover. But Dean's a fighter and managed to get back to the topic all right. This was about some woman in the tales called Pamela who sounded a real goer – sorry to be so frank, Mrs Davidson – but it
is
literature. Finally, although married to a Lord, she's still at it all over the place. But only a Life Peer. Dean said this proved life moved in circles, with this toff slapper in the middle pulling all sorts into her bed and linking them up. And I thought, yes, maybe life
was
a kind of circle. Consider it, Mrs Davidson, I'd managed to glimpse Dean and Adrian Pellotte in the street splitting the funds. Then I came to Faunt and lifted the money they hadn't already lifted for themselves. Following this, I pop into the conference with these happy gains in my valise. And by a sort of fluke I listen to Dean give a talk which, because they obviously had to get there in time to do it, made them divide the money like that, meaning I could come to hear his performance, with about half of it nabbed, in my bag and right in front of him, and he with a quarter of it around his body right in front of
me
.'

‘Yes, a kind of neatness to it,' Esther said.

‘He got some good applause at the end. I felt glad. He deserved that. I didn't stay for any more of the conference, though. It seemed wisest. They might go to check the car. The chairman announced that in one of the galleries there was a painting about a dance which people might want to look at, but I went to the Peugeot and drove back to Pine Street.'

‘We haven't had any report from Pellotte that his car was broken into and cash taken.'

‘No, maybe not. What's he going to say – “£11,400 of Happy Gardening Solutions' crack, charlie, H and skunk money has been outrageously lifted, officer?”'

‘Perhaps it wasn't a sound idea to start using it so soon,' Esther said. ‘
Trying
to use it. They'll be listening out for tales of big spending. And Pellotte is going to be deeply cross about fractures to his myth.'

‘Which myth?'

‘The perfect BMW. A buckled boot. He'll be like anyone else on Whit or Temperate.'

‘Ducky idea, isn't it?'

‘He won't want to show signs of frailty at present. A ruptured car is frailty. He's trying to handle a crisis.'

‘That TV stuff, and his daughter?'

‘Some people in the firm watch him for weaknesses. They'd like to push him out and take over. You might have started a—'

‘The papers,' Caple replied.

‘Which?'

‘The ones from the boot to wrap the money.'

‘Newspapers?'

‘Old newspapers. When I get home after Faunt I drop off the take in Pine Street, then go over to park my car in the warehouse yard and cycle back – valiseless now. First thing, obviously, I must count the earnings. Suddenly, though, I see his face. It stops me. For a couple of minutes it stops me, Mrs Davidson. All that money, waiting to be totted up, but I pause. Yes, I pause.'

Drama.
‘Whose face?'

‘Gervaise Manciple Tasker's.'

‘How? Where?'

‘When I'm unwrapping. In one of the papers.'

‘He was a journalist.'

‘There's an article he'd published and a photo of him as the writer, the way they do, and under it “Gervaise Tasker”. No “Manciple”.'

‘That would be his working name. What kind of article?'

‘Oh, about some topic.'

‘Well, yes, it would be.'

‘What they call investigative. To do with an MP. Backhanders etcetera.'

‘Which?'

‘It's not important.'

‘It might be.'

‘No, it isn't. What's important is that I'd picked up four newspaper pages as wrapping when I took the money. So, I see his face on one and I wonder about the rest.'

‘They're
pages
from newspapers, are they, not complete issues?'

‘Pages. I'd thought they were whole newspapers in the crate, but no. Pages. From different newspapers, different dates, different kinds of articles. But they've all got a picture of Gervaise Tasker. I've kept these at Pine Street, if you want to look. I had them spread out on the table – the money in stacks at one end where I'd been counting, and now the newspaper pages at the other. This was a kind of – well, a kind of revelation.'

‘In which way?'

‘They're interested in him.'

‘You mean interested in the kind of reporting he does?'

‘Yes, maybe his kind of reporting, in case he did it one day about Whit and Happy Gardening Solutions. And Temperate and Abracadabra Leisure. But also they've got identification pictures of him, haven't they? Different pictures. Various angles. All round. Suppose they wanted to send someone or more than one for him. This could help make sure they got the right man.'

‘How do you mean “send someone, or more than one, for him”?'

‘Yes, send someone, or more than one, for him.'

And Esther decided then that Pellotte and Dean, and Happy Gardening Solutions could not be implicated in Tasker's death. If they were, Dean would never allow potentially awkward evidence like that to pile up in the car, and stay there after Tasker's death. Adrian Pellotte might act lordly and careless, not Dean. They could have been
interested
in Tasker and his objectives on Whit and Temperate. Dean did like to gather information, build his facts store, register incursers. That was different from killing Tasker, or having him killed, though – and different from sending ‘someone, or more than one, for him'.

Detective Sergeant Abner Cule had had doubts about Pellotte's and Feston's involvement from the start, because, for one thing, the forensic people said the bullets that killed Tasker were not from a Browning nine mm, the usual weapon of both. But, of course, they might have sent ‘someone or more than one' to do the job, and such a hit man, or hit men, would use their own preferred gun. Or Pellotte and Dean could have used a different pistol, knowing the Browning was a giveaway. And Esther had also wondered whether Cule's reaction came because he hadn't cracked Dean in the interview. Cule, proud of his abilities, possibly thought this failure wasn't a failure at all but meant Dean couldn't
be
cracked because he was innocent.

Now, though, after Caple's description of the newspapers, Esther's thoughts did turn away from Pellotte and Dean and went elsewhere. She recalled that Temperate church sidesman in Tasker's notes and his words of blessing: ‘Mene. Mene. Tekel. Upharsin. Ufucker.' And she recalled Belinda's hint that Esther's guesses at Camby or Laidlaw for the Tribe meeting might be wrong. Belinda had clammed then, wouldn't say more. But there'd been a strange moment: at one point, hadn't she referred to Temperate people at the club as ‘personnel?' Unusual word. A slip? A pointer? Who was Personnel in the Temperate firm's hierarchy: Joel Jeremy North, according to Tasker's notes. The sidesman? The Tribe figure? Perhaps if Amesbury's leadership had become fragile, others beside the two deputies might want to show they were in the running as successor, and would prove it by the decisive disposal of Tasker, considered a danger to the company. Esther focused on North.

‘This is a discovery for you, isn't it, Mrs Davidson?' Caple said. ‘I look after you, as ever.' She heard the winged chariot of
quid pro quoism
hurrying near. ‘I know you're stuck – the Tasker investigation going nowhere. And the buzz says bullies from the Home Office and the Mayor's office grow stroppy. But now – now you have these papers. They're waiting for you in Pine Street. What could be referred to as a breakthrough.'

‘Thanks, Ivor.'

Big matey sigh again. ‘And then this carry-on about the dud notes and the shop. You might be able to do the same.'

‘Same as what?'

‘
You
look after
me
.'

‘As ever.'

‘Now you know the full tale you can see I'm spotless, a victim, that's all. Someone passes me phoney bills, but I don't recognize them. Who would, except an expert?'

‘Or a shop,' Esther said.

‘I say “passes me phoney bills” but you'll query this. All right, it's not quite true, I know. Nobody passed them, in the usual meaning of passed.'

‘No, not the usual meaning.'

‘But I thought you'd be able to explain the special details to your people, without saying too much, of course.'

‘Of course.'

Esther went with Gerald to N.D.L.tv's studios to meet some of the people concerned with
A Week in Review.
Gerald would not take part in the actual broadcast this evening but could familiarize himself with the place, and the procedures. There'd be a drinks reception first. Then, as she understood it from Gerald, they could watch the show from the hospitality suite and, afterwards, re-meet the panellists and programme staff as they relaxed. The invitation to Gerald had specifically mentioned Esther. She thought she'd enjoy things, as long as Gerald stayed reasonably civil and controlled. He'd been fairly unfebrile lately. Perhaps N.D.L.tv had been warned that Esther should be present to manage him. She knew Gerald was referred to here and there as ‘the loon with the bassoon'.

The producer introduced himself, said how pleased he was they'd come, and that a busy and distinguished musician like Gerald had agreed to take part in a future show.

Esther glanced around the room: ‘I don't see the Sandine dynamo,' she said.

‘Not tonight. Panellists vary. But Sacheverell Biggs, our drinks man, is blessedly always here!' He approached with his tray. Esther took white wine, Gerald, Glenlivet.

‘Will you miss her?' Esther asked.

‘Who?' Edgehill replied.

‘Sandine,' Esther said.

‘In what sense?'

‘She lit things up lately, didn't she?' Esther replied.

‘You could cut the sex with a cheese wire,' Gerald said.

‘We have some lively people and topics tonight,' Edgehill said.

‘And Bale chairing?' Gerald said. ‘He's great. Or great when Priscilla Sandine is there to do some igniting.'

‘Great, regardless,' Edgehill said.

‘I see him by the door with the Pellotte woman,' Gerald said. ‘Has she come along to show who owns him? She gave us a blast about Sandine.'

‘No need for such enmity,' Edgehill said.

A middle-aged woman holding a glass joined them: possibly gin-and-bitters. Esther felt she should recognize her. ‘Ah, here's Nellie,' Edgehill said. ‘Head of News and Current Affairs. She often invades for a free drink.'

Yes, Esther had seen her at police news conferences occasionally. Nellie Poignard? Big, hearty-looking, vigorous.

‘This is grand,' she said.

‘What?' Esther said.

‘To catch you on the premises, Chief Superintendent,' Poignard said. ‘I'm constantly trying to get Larry to give me useful insights. He's hopeless. Or secretive. You might be better.'

‘Insights?' Esther said.

‘The estates. He lives on Whitsun. I tell him something mighty is brewing up there – and on Temperate. We have two leaderships with problems, Amesbury in Temperate, Pellotte in Whitsun, both desperate to hang on to their thrones. They'll do anything to secure themselves, including all-out warfare. I ask Larry for privileged glimpses. He acts blank, blank, blank. No barometer at all.'

‘All's set fair, as far as I can see,' Edgehill said.

‘Oh, stop! The pointers to imminent trouble pile up,' Nellie said. ‘Above all, of course, that killing. The journalist. And the foul display.'

‘An ongoing inquiry,' Esther said.

‘Progress?' Nellie said.

‘Ongoing,' Esther said.

‘We've found he went out to Happy Gardening Solutions and to St John's Church on Temperate,' Nellie said. ‘Reconnaissance?'

‘I thought we were here for a sodding arts programme,' Gerald replied. He would grow dizzy and eye-popping if Esther became central to the chit-chat, not him, when the only reason they were here was him and his fame.

‘And now a different car outside Pellotte's house,' Nellie Poignard stated.

‘Oh? That's meaningful?' Esther said.

‘I get up to Whit and Temperate occasionally, just driving around for the . . . well, for the flavour. More than ever recently. I smell crisis. It's a BMW, but not ADP 12. If he's bought a new car he'd have transferred the cherished number plate. So, has ADP 12 been vandalized, broken into, needs garage treatment? My God, what would this say about his position on Whit and in the firm? People don't fear, idolize him any more? Insurrection? What's next? Yes, what's next?'

‘Who gives a twopenny toss?' Gerald said. ‘These damn degenerates.'

‘Cars go in for servicing,' Esther said.

‘Missing for days. I've done several trips.'

‘Obsessional, Nellie,' Edgehill said.

‘Even BMWs need repairs now and then,' Esther said.

‘That's what I mean,' Nellie Poignard exclaimed. ‘Why? ADP 12 has been savaged?'

‘Wear and tear?' Esther suggested.

‘ADP 12 is this year's model,' Nellie said.

‘Or damaged elsewhere,' Esther said. ‘Perhaps he's been lent a courtesy car.'

‘Ask sweet Dione,' Gerald said. ‘She certainly knows how to open her gob. We ran into her and Bale at a concert.'