‘He’s on your website. Five feet eight inches, dark hair, spikey. He’s got a tattoo on his arm of an eagle.’
‘I’ve no idea who you’re talking about.’
‘That’s fine,’ Larry said as he took out his phone. ‘16 Grantly Street, Putney. A lockup garage, currently occupied by the Anarchist Revolutionaries of England. Check it for class A and B drugs, weapons, subversive literature, incitement to riot. You know the drill.’
‘You can’t do that,’ Helmsley said.
‘Do you want me to cancel it? It’s up to you.’
‘Okay, I know him. One of our most fervent.’
‘Where is he?’
‘I don’t know.’
Larry reached for his phone again.
‘Very well. 246 Hazelmere Road. It’s a five-minute walk from here. He shares with some of the other comrades.’
‘You’ve been there?’
‘Not me. I’ve got a place not far from here.’
‘No doubt you share it with your fellow revolutionaries.’
‘I do my bit.’
‘And what bit is that? The bit where you incite them to violence? The bit where you take a share of their benefits? Mr Helmsley, you’ve never been arrested, other than for causing a minor affray. Fifty pound fine, is that the limit of your anarchy?’
‘You don’t understand what we are trying to achieve. Some of us need to remain at a distance, to provide leadership and guidance.’
‘And have a good time,’ Wendy said. ‘Is Michael Lawrence having a good time?’
‘He’s into heroin, a hopeless drug addict.’
‘Do you know of his family?’
‘I do.’
‘Did you kill his grandfather? You must have hated what he represents.’
‘One of the elites. I am glad that he is dead, but no, I did not kill him, nor did any of our members.’
‘And what’s going to happen when you succeed?’ Larry said. ‘Tumbrels taking the capitalists to the guillotine? The women sitting there knitting, the men cheering?’
‘It won’t be like that. The people will welcome us, even those who oppose us now.’
‘Mr Helmsley, you’re full of hot air. If we don’t find Michael Lawrence, we’ll be back, and this time, not only to your headquarters but also the house you own. You’re no different from Lenin driving around in a Rolls Royce: just a hypocrite. We’ll meet again, Mr Helmsley, and soon.’
Chapter 8
Ralph Lawrence, free of Challis Street Police Station, realised there were imponderables for which he had no solution. He made two phone calls. The first was to a psychiatrist whom he had known from his school days, an eminent man in his field now. The second was to a man who would either assist him or would see that he never walked again. Ralph plotted his course very carefully.
If, as he suspected, his father with only a corpse to keep him company, had been irrational and eccentric, then the man’s sanity could be disputed. But even if the will was invalidated, how much of his father’s wealth would come to him, and how much would remain hidden? After all, Leonard Dundas and his daughter had had a long time to distort the truth and to hide the whereabouts of swathes of property and legal documents.
The first call revealed that a case could be made to dispute Gilbert Lawrence’s sanity, although it would be costly and prolonged. If Dundas had been controlling his father for many years, then his father had been merely a shell, rubber-stamping Dundas’s instructions. He knew that he needed the truth, he needed allies.
‘Caroline, we need to talk,’ Ralph said as he stood at the door of his sister’s house. He had in his pockets the sum of one thousand five hundred and fifty-two pounds. Not much to show for a lifetime of playing the game, he knew, but he had hoped for a fortune.
‘Come in, if you must,’ Caroline said.
Once inside the elegantly decorated terrace house of Caroline and Desmond Dickson, Ralph quickly found a radiator and sat down close to it, removing his suit jacket. He had to admit that his sister had done well for herself, but then, she was the more sensible of the two. She had always looked for stability in her life, whereas he had searched for adventure.
‘Life’s taken a turn for the worse for you,’ Caroline said. They had been close when they were young, and seeing him down and out, a body blow straight in the chest after the reading of their father’s last will and testament, she could only feel compassion.
Before Desmond had come along, the most important man in her life had been her brother, even if he had not been the best influence or the most honest.
‘Our father was not sane, you know that,’ Ralph said as he slowly warmed in the heat.
‘I know it, but what can we do?’
‘Leonard Dundas controlled our father for years.’
‘I’ve spoken to Desmond about it. We will accept the money offered, and I’ll take up the offer that Dundas made at our father’s request.’
‘That’s a smoke screen. You’re to be given voting rights. Voting on what? The truth? Will you be given full visibility?’
‘It will give us five million pounds, our children one million pounds each, and more importantly, it will give us time.’
‘Time for what?’
‘Time to find out the truth.’
‘I’ve received nothing, not unless I agree to conditions that cannot be met.’
‘We can only sympathise with your predicament.’
‘Sympathy will not help,’ Ralph said. He moved away from the radiator and sat in an armchair near to his sister. ‘I need money, and I need it now. Holding down a steady job is not going to work, and as for Michael, he’s barking mad.’
‘What do you know about him? Where is he? What is he doing?’
‘The last I heard he was into heroin. He was looking for money from me.’
‘Did you give him some?’
‘I sent him ten thousand pounds. What else could I do?’
‘He is your son. His mother?’
‘No idea.’
‘Did you come here for money, or just to complain about how your life has turned out?’
‘I’m desperate. What we were working on in Spain hasn’t worked out. The police down there are tough. They’ve seized our assets.’
‘Assets?’
‘Okay, just a rented office, a couple of cars, and our laptops.’
‘The money you had managed to part from the gullible?’
‘That as well. It was a sound business proposal. They would have had secured tenure.’
‘Ralph, save the advertising for others. You’ve lost your money, probably borrowed plenty. And now you’re looking for a handout, and support to take on our father, is that it?’
‘That’s what I said before.’
‘We will take no further action at this time until we have more knowledge of the intricacies of what our father and Dundas have been doing for the last three decades. We have time on our side, you do not. What do you intend to do?’
‘I’ll fight.’
‘With what?’
‘Whatever I’ve got.’
‘You’re playing with fire, not for the first time, but fire nonetheless. You’re going to get burnt, not by Desmond and me, but by others. Did you kill our father? You’d be capable.’
‘Not me. I was incarcerated in Spain, you know that.’
‘What about Michael? He was in England.’
‘Not him. He’s barely capable of looking after himself.’
Ralph knew his sister would not help him, and he did not intend to plead. His situation was precarious, and he had been in tight jams before. He would get himself out of this one.
***
The young anarchist Michael Lawrence was found at the address given by Giles Helmsley. In keeping with the beliefs of the organisation, or because they were just bone-lazy, the house that three of the anarchists occupied was only fit for keeping animals.
‘Mr Lawrence, we’ve a few questions,’ Wendy said. She stood back mor
e than ten paces on account of the mess. The man who wanted to right the wrongs of the capitalist state was lying on a mattress on the floor. It looked neither clean nor hygienic. To one side, there was a syringe and a bottle of beer.
‘If you’re the filth?’
‘Sergeant Wendy Gladstone and Detective Inspector Larry Hill,’ Wendy said as the two officers showed their warrant cards.
‘I’ve nothing to say.’
‘That’s fine. We can continue our discussion down at the police station.’
‘You can’t come in here and tell us what to do,’ one of the others said.
Larry moved over close to the man who was dressed in a tee-shirt with the words ‘Down with the Capitalist State’ emblazoned across the front of it. ‘Now, look here, my anarchist friend,’ Larry said, enunciating his words, ‘if you don’t want to be arrested and charged for having heroin in here, a firearm on the shelf behind you, then I suggest you shut up and leave us to deal with your friend.’
‘There are no guns here,’ the would-be tough man said. Wendy could see that Larry was ready to give him a swift kick in the stomach and a slap across the face.
The other anarchist remained curled up, fast asleep. On the arm of a chair next to where he slept, an empty bottle of whisky.
‘Not much revolution today from that one,’ Larry said, looking over at the man.
Wendy returned to Michael Lawrence. ‘What is it? Here or down at the police station?’
‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’ Wendy could see the similarities between him and his father. She imagined that the young man could even be handsome underneath the tattoos and all the rings, some in his ears, one in his nose, another in his left eyebrow. If he was an indication of what the end of capitalism was to bring, then she was glad it was not going to happen anytime soon. One of her two sons had come home with a tattoo once. She remembered hitting the roof, not that he had taken too much notice as he had been drunk, but the next day, he felt her tongue. After that, she had to put up with the occasional tattoo, liking some, not liking others.
Then she and Bridget on holiday in Italy had dared each other, and both had had a small butterfly tattooed on their left ankle. It had been down to too much of the local vino, and Wendy’s sons had given her hell when she got back to England.
‘Okay, here, if you must,’ Michael said, attempting to sit up and to lean against the wall.
‘We’ve spoken to your father,’ Larry said.
‘Him? What for?’
‘What do you know of your grandfather, Gilbert?’
‘Not much. I’ve never met the man.’
‘What else do you know?’
‘According to my father, my grandfather is rich.’
‘He’s one of those that you’re against.’
‘It won’t be long before you and your masters will be gone. Plenty for everyone.’
‘Someone will need to work. Will it be you?’ Larry said.
‘Not me. Giles says the revolution will need soldiers.’
‘I thought it was to occur when the people of England embraced the cause. There’d be no need for you then. Mr Lawrence, you’re just a layabout, spouting nonsense as long as you are able to doss here. Helmsley told us where you were. He’s done a con trick on you and the others, but that’s not why we’re here.’
‘My grandfather. What about him?’
‘Do you know where he lives.’
‘No. Should I?’
‘Your grandfather was killed.’
‘Should I be sorry? Shed a tear? Is that what you want?’
‘Mr Lawrence, did you kill him?’ Wendy said.
‘Are you joking?’
‘Did you know anything about him?’
‘Giles wanted me to find out more. He asked lots of questions.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘I knew where he lived, that’s all. I never went to the house or spoke to anyone.’
‘Your father’s sister?’
‘I left home at fourteen. I’ve been on the street ever since. I may have met her when I was a child.’
‘What would you do for some of your grandfather’s money?’
‘Anything.’
‘Including detoxing from drugs, finding a job?’
‘Anything.’
‘Mr Lawrence, your grandfather has offered you one million pounds if you are willing to enter into a private drug rehabilitation clinic to sort yourself out. After that a job. Will you do it?’
‘Yes, for a million pounds.’
‘Very well. Make a phone call to this number,’ Wendy said as she handed Michael Lawrence the number written on a piece of paper.
Outside on the street, the figure of Giles Helmsley. ‘Not willing to go in, is that it?’ Larry said.
‘I’m here to ensure that the comrades are not subjected to police brutality.’
‘What would you do if they were? Wise up, Helmsley. You’re a charlatan preying on vulnerable people who neither understand nor care about what you’re talking about, as long as they have their drugs and a place to sleep.’
‘Did you feed that errant nonsense to the comrades?’
‘Don’t worry. The comrades are beyond caring about what we have to say,’ Larry said.
Wendy and Larry walked to their vehicle.
‘You were pushing it,’ Wendy said.
‘Michael Lawrence could have killed his grandfather, but it would have needed Helmsley to make him.’
‘A blow for the cause?’
‘Helmsley’s cause. He could have hatched a plan to kill the old man, assuming that the grandson would get some money. And then he’d convince Michael to hand it over.
‘It’s a possibility, but far-fetched.’
‘It’s no worse than any other scenario.’
‘No better, though.’
***
Two weeks after the death of Gilbert Lawrence, five letters were sent. Two days later, four of them were signed for. The first recipient, Molly Dempster, opened hers and almost collapsed to the ground. The second, Caroline Dickson, phoned her husband. The third was delivered to Emma Lawrence. She was disturbed to receive it, not altogether surprised. The fourth was received by Leonard Dundas. He was shocked by the thoroughness of what he read. The fifth, to Ralph Lawrence, was not delivered due to the man not being at the hotel where he was staying.
The first that Homicide heard of the letters was when Molly Dempster appeared at Challis Street Police Station. It was Wendy who escorted the nervous and shaking woman up to Homicide.
Isaac and Larry, who had been out following up on the few leads they had, returned to the station as fast as they could.
Once back, the team sat with Gilbert Lawrence’s former housekeeper.
‘When did you receive it?’ Larry said.
‘This morning. It’s from Mr Lawrence, from his grave.’
The team studied the envelope. It was from another solicitor in London. It was dated two days previously. On the outside the details of the person it was addressed to, and in the far-right corner in capital letters, ‘TO BE OPENED AFTER MY DEATH’. Inside, three sheets of paper. The letter was dated 28th April 2017. Only one year old.
‘I couldn’t read it,’ Molly said. ‘It’s as if he’s writing to me from beyond.’
‘Bridget, phone up the solicitor that sent this after this meeting,’ Isaac said. ‘Either they come in here, or we’ll go out there.’
No doubt you are all wondering what to make of me, and whether I was sane or not. My death, whether it was in my sleep or after an illness, or whether my end was violent, I cannot know, as I cannot predict the future. Those who have received this letter will know by now what they have been bequeathed. Some will be pleased, others will be neutral, and some will be angry. The question about my beloved wife, Dorothy, is also a question that must be answered.
But first, my reasons for the division of my assets. I was a careful man in life, generous to those I loved, difficult and belligerent
to those I did not. While I have tried to be scrupulous in my business dealings, I have at times been forced to deal with unsavoury characters. These are not people of my choosing, and I have always kept them away from my family. Some of them have been villains, no doubt some of them would be capable of murder. That explains the reference to my death and the possibility that it could be violent. I have never sought the company of dishonest people or criminals, but with some of my more significant acquisitions, it was sometimes inevitable. I should say that this letter has been updated annually since I first put pen to paper over twenty-five years ago. Nobody, not even Leonard Dundas, knows of this letter and its contents. It has changed to some extent as the years have moved forward, as has my will.
If you are reading this now, then I am dead. Molly is no doubt confused, but the remainder of her life will be as agreeable as I can make it. Caroline, my daughter, is also provided for. Ralph, my son, has become a disappointment. I had hoped to give him and Caroline the control of my empire, but, alas, it was not to be. I know that I could have given it to Caroline instead, but I wanted the family to control it. Desmond Dickson is a good man, I’ve no doubt of that, but he is not of my blood. I could not give all that I have strived for to others. Caroline’s children will be eventually brought in, when and if they show the necessary acumen. I have engaged another firm to monitor their progress. By necessity, I am forced to rely on others, but I have put checks and counter-checks in place to ensure compliance and accountability of those charged with the responsibility. An additional letter will have been sent to Leonard Dundas and his daughter with full details of the auditing process, as well as the auditing of Dundas and his company.
Leonard Dundas has served me well over the years, and whereas I could trust him when I was alive, I cannot give him my unqualified trust when I am dead. His daughter, Jill, will take over the reins soon, and those checks will apply to her too. Caroline will have the most significant role in the years to come, and that is why there is to be a strict liquidation of assets policy in place. No doubt my directives will dissipate in time, yet I hope in death, as I did in life, my legacy will continue.
DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 2 Page 27
