“But gambling is hardly new. The earliest examples of gambling that we are aware of date back to China in 2300 BC. Why now, when human beings are at their most intelligent and sophisticated, are we seeing such a problem?”
“Yes, that’s an excellent point you make Andrea. Of course there is a long history of gambling and there have always been gamblers, likewise there have always been heavy gamblers, but we did not see these people killing themselves, certainly not in the numbers that we are seeing today. What we are currently witnessing is a gambling epidemic which takes people to the very edge of their sanity and this behaviour is being actively encouraged, rather than discouraged.”
“But why, if the issue is so serious, are the gambling companies continuing down this route?”
“Well, forgive me for saying this Andrea, but that is quite a naïve question. It is about money, nothing else. It is a very new problem which is driven by greed and nothing else. One gambling company owner recently hit the news headlines when it was revealed that she had paid herself a salary of two-hundred and sixty million pounds, for the past year. It is no secret that the gambling firms have a very specific target market. They see young, impressionable, low-income consumers as their golden goose. They know that some young bloke who is struggling or is just about managing financially will be lured into their world by a simple advertisement which suggests that they will have no more financial problems if they sign up now. This is a very slick and organised operation which actively targets this demographic with neon coloured dazzling, exciting adverts which feature bright lights, super-cars, young men having lots of great fun and sexy young women. They are paying third party data companies for the e-mail addresses of people with low incomes. The people affected are targeted out of the blue, usually with a personalised e-mail, which is written by psychologists who know exactly the right words to trigger a reaction. That reaction typically ends up as a financial transaction, and the person who had never even considered gambling before will quickly find that their money problems haven’t improved at all, they’ve actually worsened, and that they will have a very human instinctive reaction to try and win that money back. Safe in this knowledge, the gambling company will e-mail them again, and tell them that they could have twenty-thousands pounds from a free bet, and the person clicks on the offer and they get sucked in again. As I say it is a very sophisticated operation, and it doesn’t take a genius to see how the gambling industry is more successful than ever, at a time when people have never had so little disposable income. The sinister part of course, is that the gambling companies know that their product is highly addictive, so they are literally looking for new victims that they can exploit, using very sophisticated means, and the most sinister part is that it is all perfectly legal. It is genius, but it is a very dark and evil kind of genius, in my opinion.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Saunders and Rudovsky entered the offices of Bingley’s estate agents in Ashton town centre. Jo still hadn’t received a call back from the firm. It was beginning to smell a bit iffy.
“Good morning, we’re police. I’m DI Saunders, this is DS Rudovsky. We’re from the serious crimes unit.”
The young lady on reception looked quite scared. The two senior detectives picked up on her nervousness immediately.
“We need to talk about the property which was destroyed in the fire the other night. Who is the best person…”
“I’ve told Tim, my boss, he said he’d call you back. But he’s gone on an appointment.” The young lady sounded extremely insincere. Her voice was quivering and her eyes were all over the place. Whatever it was that was going on with this arson attack, she knew something about it, it was written all over her flushed, panic-stricken face.
“Who is Tim?”
“Tim’s the manager. It’s his dad’s business.”
“And are you in a relationship with Tim?” Rudovsky was sharp, and she’d sussed this set-up out already.
“What… I’m, well, yes. But…”
“But what?”
“Well, what’s that got to do with anything?”
“Where’s Tim now?” Saunders interrupted the discussion with his own question.
“I told you, he’s had to…”
“Can you show me his diary?”
“What, well, we don’t… he keeps his diary with him.” She was a shit liar.
“Bullshit alert.”
“Wha…”
“Just to be clear, you don’t keep an integrated online diary system, so staff can see where other members of staff are, or when they’re already booked in for an appointment? I’d have thought that was a basic requirement in this line of work, unless of course it’s actually 1987 and I’ve imagined the last thirty-odd years?” Saunders was going in hard and Rudovsky was keen to keep the pressure on.
“Can you phone Tim please and tell him to get back to the office toot-sweet?”
“I can’t… he’s with a client.”
“Look love, I’m sure you’re aware that we are investigating the murder of three people, and the attempted murder of a fourth, at one of the properties that you manage. So stop mugging us about, phone Tim and tell him to get back here before you end up in the back of my car with a pair of handcuffs around your wrists.”
The young lady was in tears as she lifted her mobile, her hand was trembling so violently, it looked as though she might drop the phone. Saunders and Rudovsky looked at one another. They both knew that they had just taken a gigantic step closer towards solving this mystery.
“Tim, yes, the police are here… detectives… no, they are going to arrest me if you don’t come back here straight away. I don’t know….”
Saunders leaned forward and grabbed the phone out of the receptionist’s hand.
“Tim. This is DI Saunders. Can you come straight back to your office right now please?” He pressed the call end button and looked at the screen. The phone number was still lit up. Saunders took a photo of the screen using his own phone, before handing it back to the young woman.
“Jo, just ring comms, get a GPS satellite location for this number. It’s 07….”
This was bollocks, but Rudovsky went along with what she was asked, giving the receptionist the impression that she was going outside to call “comms.”
“Right, while we get a location for Tim, just in case he isn’t on his way back here, let’s talk about Andris Ozols.”
The young woman just stared back at him, she still looked frightened, so that was good.
“He’s a bit behind with his rent, isn’t he?”
“I don’t…”
“Oh come on! Don’t play silly beggars with me. It’s only a small little firm this. What is it, just you and Tim?”
She nodded, and then said, “And his dad. But he’s part-time.”
“What’s he called? The owner?”
“Clive.”
“So, it’s just you and Tim, and Clive, part-time?”
“Yes.”
“And in a business this small, you haven’t heard a word mentioned about one of your clients not paying their rent for the past five months?”
Suddenly, the receptionist seemed to grow in confidence. Her next sentence told Saunders that she wasn’t taking any flack for any of this, whatever the “this” was. “You need to speak to Tim. Seriously, I’m starting to get a bit pissed off…”
“Not as pissed off as Marija is going to be when she wakes up out of her coma and learns that she’s lost her whole family in an arson attack, and that her face was so badly burnt, they’ve been taking skin grafts off her buttocks to try and rebuild it.”
She just stared ahead, her eyes were filling with tears and her chin was quivering. She had no reply to that powerful come-back. There was a tense silence as Rudovsky stepped back inside the shop.
“Sorted?”
“Yes, they’re scanning him now.”
Suddenly, a stressed-out, but smart looking young man walked into the shop.
“Look, listen… this…”
“Ah, you must be Tim!” announced Rudovsky theatrically. “Where was the meeting with your client, next-door-but-one?”
“Yes, yes, I’m Tim, but, we’re in serious danger. Listen, I can’t help you with this unless you help me.” Tim’s eyes were sincere, he looked genuine and he looked scared.
“What’s…”
“I need you to do a full raid, I mean the full works, police cars, vans, sniffer-dogs, armed police. I need every single person in Ashton going on Facebook asking what’s going on at my shop. Please, my life is in danger if you don’t do this.” Sweat was pouring from Tim’s face as he spoke. Saunders and Rudovsky recognised immediately that this bloke wasn’t a criminal. But he was definitely scared of criminals. They’d seen this look of terror on folk before.
“Deal. I’ll give you the full treatment, I’ll try and get the chopper up as well if that helps. But you need to give me the file on who owns on that house.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“Because I’ve just agreed to what you’ve asked, rather than arrest you and take you down to the station in my unmarked car and then come back here and raid your offices.”
“Oh…”
Saunders liked this young guy, and he wanted to help him. The DI suddenly felt as though he understood what was going on.
“Please, make your call and I’ll give you everything. But I need people to see that this was a police raid or it’ll be my house next.”
Saunders lifted his phone out of his pocket. He dialled Miller.
“Ah, DI Saunders! Nipped out for a fry-up without inviting me?”
“Alright boss. No, me and Jo are in Ashton, literally a couple of minutes away from arresting the people behind the fire.”
“You what? I thought you were looking at bank statements.”
“Long story. We’re in Ashton. Have you got a pen?”
“Yes.”
“Right, it’s Bingley’s Estate Agents, Cavendish Street, OL6 7DB.”
“Go on.”
“We need a big police drama at this address, it’s the offices of the estate agents who were managing the Ozols address.”
“Okay?”
“The manager is willing to help us, but he’s worried about repercussions if it doesn’t look like a full-on police raid, out-of-the-blue.”
“Has this got legs?”
“Yes Sir, and knees and toes.”
“Leave it with me. Are you staying at the address?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Nice one. I’m on it.” Miller hung up.
Saunders looked at Tim. “Right. Sorted. Now let’s have this information.”
“Am I going to be arrested?” asked Tim.
“I don’t know yet. Depends what you’ve done.”
“He hasn’t done fuck all!” shouted the receptionist, her emotions getting the better of her. Emotions were starting to get the better of Tim too, tears were rolling down his cheeks.
“Shut up a minute Charlotte. Listen, we’ve been praying for this moment, since we first heard about the fire. We thought this place would be next… or our house.” Tim was completely genuine. Both Saunders and Rudovsky could spot a liar a mile away. Tim wasn’t one.
“Are you saying you want to be arrested?”
“No, I… I don’t know. If I’m seen to be arrested, well, it might look like I’ve grassed. But if you guys just burst in here and make a big scene… removing files and computers and stuff, well, I don’t know. Like I say, I’ve never been caught up in any of this type of thing before.”
“Right, let’s sit down while we wait for the drama, and you can tell us what’s going on.” Rudovsky grabbed Tim’s arm gently and guided him back to the row of red seats in front of the window.
“Let’s start at the beginning. Andris Ozols hasn’t paid his rent since May. Why?”
“Because his boiler wasn’t working. He’s had no hot water.”
It was clear from the look on Saunders’ face that this wasn’t the answer he had anticipated. “Okay. And presumably, your job as the tenancy manager is to see that work like that is carried out?”
“Yes, naturally.”
“But it wasn’t?”
“No. The landlord refused to pay to fix the boiler, he said it’s the middle of summer, it can wait.”
“And Andris Ozols presumably said that the rent can also wait?”
“That’s pretty much it. Only…”
“Go on.”
“Well, I loved these guys, they were my best tenants without a shadow of doubt. Andris and Marija have been in here half a dozen times about this broken boiler issue.” Tim’s eyes started filling up with tears again. He wiped them away with his sleeve, but the emotion was still clear in his voice as spoke. “They were brilliant tenants, honestly. They were lovely people. And… the kids were so lovely… well, I couldn’t do anything about this awful situation with the boiler, I explained that it was the landlord’s responsibility. So Andris asked me to find him a different landlord, which I did.”
“You did?” Rudovsky sounded surprised.
“Yes, I didn’t agree with this attitude of the landlord’s either and Andris knew that.”
“So, what happened?”
“Well, I found them a property, a house on St Annes estate, so they were really excited, they were finally going to have a garden for the kids to play in and it was nearer to the kids school and the rent wasn’t that much more. Everything was looking great. But…”
“What?”
“A couple of days before the fire, Andris e-mailed the landlord. He blind-copied me into it so I was aware, and said that he was moving out at weekend, and that basically, if he thinks he’s getting his back-rent, he must be living in a dream-world. Something like that.” Tim started crying, he leant forward into a foetal position with his head between his knees. His shoulders and his back were heaving as the tears ran freely, dropping onto his well-shined shoes. “If he hadn’t sent that e-mail… God! He…he could have just done a midnight flit.”
“Jesus. Is that all this was about?” Saunders looked shocked.
“Yes. Fucking sick bastard.” It was Chantelle who was speaking now. Tim was too upset to continue. Rudovsky stroked his back, gently, she could feel the raw tremors of emotion coming through his suit jacket.
“You say you feared for your own safety after this. Was this because of the e-mail?”
Tim was still in a state but he nodded to confirm. After a big sniff, he lifted his head slightly. “It wasn’t the e-mail so much, I don’t think the landlord knew I was blind-copied. But obviously, he knows that I know about the problems with the rent. I’ve not slept since I heard about it, waiting for something terrible to happen.”
“Well, don’t worry Tim. We’ve got this now. I think it will be an idea to give us that file now, so we can arrest this person before he gets wind of your offices being busted. It’ll be a shame to give him a head-start.” Saunders’ phone was vibrating in his pocket. He held his hand up as he took his phone out of his pocket. “One-sec.” He pressed the answer icon. It was Miller.
“Hi Sir.”
“Alright, I’ve got DCI Green setting up a raid now, she thinks its going to take a good half-an-hour to sort out.”
“Half an hour?”
“Yes, there was a big job on earlier apparently so Tameside haven’t got a lot of bodies. Anyway, it’s happening, she’s on it. So, what can you tell me?”
“One sec, Sir. Tim, can you please get me the name and address of the landlord please mate.”
Tim stood slowly and wiped his tears away again. He looked like shit.
“What’s going on?” asked Miller.
“I need a real raid to happen, have you got a pen?”
“Go on.”
Tim returned from the tiny office at the side of the reception desk and handed over the file for the address in Denton, his hand was visibly shaking as he did so. Saunders placed the battered
old folder on the reception desk and opened it. Tim pointed at the information that the detective was looking for.
“Okay Sir, prime suspect for the fatal fire in Denton. This individual and any associates or family members at the address should be arrested at the earliest opportunity. He’s called Adrian Wilson, address is fifteen, that’s one-five Sterling Street, Guide Bridge, OL7 OHN. I think we need to move quickly on this, Sir.”
“Anything else?”
“Tim, anything else we need to know? Is he likely to be home?”
It was quite clear that Tim was shitting himself. This was too much and it was obvious that he was worried about how deeply he was becoming embroiled in this horrific situation.
Saunders read the signs and decided to take the pressure off the estate agent. He knew that Miller would quickly find out everything he needed to know just from the name and address. “Yes, I think that’s all we know about him. I trust you’ll find more out on the PNC.”
“Well, this is a turn-up Keith. I’m looking forward to hearing how the fucking-hell this all came about. Speak later.”
“Cheers.”
“Okay, that’s my boss informed. You’ll both be able to relax soon.”
“Listen, I know this is all very intense at the minute. But you’ll be fine. You’ll see.” Rudovsky was trying to calm the stressed-out couple. She could see they were expecting the place to be fire-bombed at any moment.
*****
“Hi Sir.”
“Andy, got anything for me?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’ve got the name and address of the person we believe is responsible for the fire.”
There was a pregnant silence. DCS Dixon sounded as stunned by this extraordinary outcome as Miller had upon taking Saunders’ call earlier. “Go on?” said Dixon, finally.
“I don’t know the exact details, this is very much a live operation at this moment Sir. But it’s come in from Saunders and Rudovsky so it’ll be right.”
“What do you need?”
“ARU and Tactical Aid on blue lights right now. The address is in Ashton but Tameside are all tied up on another job connected to this so it will have to be either Stockport or Manchester division.”
Nothing To Lose Page 23
