by Lee Wood
It is only his three ‘legitimate’ businesses which are suffering from the recession and downturn. Left to its own devices the taxi firm makes a profit of around £500 a week. The launderette brings in a further £300 a week and the pizza takeaway is making £200 a week after all expenses. So, without his illegal activities his income is around £1,000 a week. Nothing like sufficient for the lifestyle he wants to enjoy. However, by laundering cash through the three businesses he is able to show the Inland Revenue they make a combined profit of £3,000 a week. This enables him to have the lifestyle he currently enjoys without any questions being asked as to how he can afford it. It does mean he has to pay extra tax, but it’s worth it to keep everything looking respectable, and his clever accountant manages to keep the level of tax as low as possible.
Chapter Forty-Two
JAMES
After all the correspondence from Dave Rex’s lawyers I’ve decided the best course of action is to seek legal advice. I run a Google search and make a couple of phone calls. As a result I’m informed that the best lawyer in town for this sort of situation is Clinton Palmer from Palmer & Sands.
I telephone and speak to Mr Palmer, who, when told of the sums involved, agrees to put aside his arranged lunch meeting and see me at one o’clock today. The offices of Palmer & Sands are impressive to say the least. Built less than three years ago, they stand on the corner of Station Road with an arc shaped frontage made entirely of lightly tinted glass. It’s probably the most impressive office building in Trentbridge.
Mr Palmer, the senior partner of the firm, has an office on the second floor.
I arrive five minutes early for the appointment but this doesn’t stop him from keeping me waiting five minutes past the agreed time. Once I am ushered into the lawyer’s plush office and offered a drink, to which my reply is “water please,” I am asked to sit down.
I produce a file with all the correspondence in and pass it across the desk. I wait for the six minutes it takes the lawyer costing me £800 an hour to read. Then he looks up and smiles.
“An interesting case,” he comments.
He doesn’t ask me if there is any truth in the matter of who really purchased the Lotto ticket.
“As I see it, you currently hold the best cards. It would be up to the other side to prove beyond reasonable doubt,” he looks down at the paperwork and continues, “that Mr Rex had purchased the ticket. He states these were a set of numbers he used on a weekly basis but beyond being able to offer a single example of a ticket with these numbers on, he offers no further proof. That one occasion could merely be a coincidence. It really does not prove anything. Cases like this can take months, even years, to come to court and then it’s down to the judge to decide. He could, of course, apply for the money to be frozen pending the outcome of the case but I cannot see a court agreeing to that. In my opinion, we write to the other side and inform them we will fight this every step of the way. It’s going to be costly for him to proceed. Do you have any indication of his current financial situation?”
“No. I really don’t know this man at all.”
“If you wish I can have someone check him out for you. Do you have any ideas as to how you would like me to proceed?”
“I’ve been going over things in my mind. It’s true what he says about us bumping into each other at the grocery store on that day but not what he says about me stealing his file or ticket. We both fell to the floor and I picked up the ticket I saw. He could be telling the truth about it being his. I honestly don’t know. My main concern is the charity I’ve set up. We are hoping to purchase the Asbury Park site from the council and then refurbish the 880 houses and offer them to deserving local families at low rents and then add a school and doctors’ surgery. That will cost around seventy-five million pounds, so my thought is to offer this man fifty million right away and settle out of court. However, I’m not sure that will keep him happy, which is why I decided to come and see you.”
“If you feel he may have a strong case and you want it to go away then such an offer would, in my opinion, be hard to resist. Fifty million pounds is more than enough for a good lifestyle. Of course, it all depends on how we word the offer. I can prepare a letter and send a copy for your approval before I send it over to the opposing party. I can mark the offer ‘without prejudice’ so it cannot be used in court.”
As a former police detective, I am well aware of this legal phrase. Any offer made preceded by this term means anything written cannot be used or referred to in a civil court of law. So, if the other party rejects the offer it’s as if the offer was never made. In my heart, I think this is the best course of action. I don’t think this man is going to go away and I would like to see the Asbury Park project get underway without any delays. “Would you please go ahead and draft the letter. The sooner we get things settled the better as far as I’m concerned.”
“Okay. As this matter is urgent I will cancel the appointment I have for this afternoon and I’ll get the letter emailed over for your approval before three thirty. Then if you agree with the contents I can have it sent over today. I’ll make it clear the offer of fifty million pounds is non-negotiable and they can have the money within forty-eight hours of agreeing to it. Is that going to be a problem?”
I tell him that will be fine.
“That should make them sit up and take notice. If I were working for the other party I would be tempted to advise them to accept the offer, but of course I don’t know which way they will decide to jump. It just so happens the person acting for the other party is someone I know. I think it is entirely possible he will advise his client to accept your offer, but of course there are no guarantees.”
I leave the meeting still confused. Now it’s down to Dave’s lawyers to advise him.
My worry is the lawyers may think they can make far higher fees by prolonging the case and advising their client to take the matter further. From my days as a police officer, I’ve seen what some unscrupulous lawyers will do to enhance their income. Some of them are honest but with a few of them I would always count my fingers after shaking their hand.
By now my head is really beginning to hurt. I need to do what I always do when a migraine becomes too much, to take some strong painkillers and lie down in bed in a dark room with no noise.
I return to my car and drive down to the offices on Sidney Street. I have my own office for times when I need to be alone and this is definitely one of those occasions. I go over to the only window in the room and pull the blinds cord to make the room as dark as possible.
Then I sit in my office chair, place a cushion on the desk and put my head down to rest to try to make my head stop pounding. I have asked not to be disturbed and, as this is unusual. The occupants of the other office are all concerned. I can sense Susan and Stevie are worried about me. Perhaps they think all this has got to me and I’m feeling depressed?
The project on Asbury Park is my passion. Helping other people comes first for me; I have little interest in the money. No fancy car, no Rolex watch and no expensive toys. I’m not even interested in women. I just wish my lovely Miriam was still here.
At three thirty, my mobile phone rings and I answer it.
“Hello, Mr Sheldon. It’s Clinton Palmer. I’ve just emailed the draft letter to you. If you could have a read and let me know whether you would like any changes made. Otherwise I can get it into today’s post and across to the other side. I’ll wait to hear from you, but if you could let me know before four thirty then it can all be done today.”
I thank him for undertaking the work so quickly and promise to check his email straight away, which I do, and I find a short note plus an attachment. I click and open the attachment and then print it out on the printer next to my desk. The letter is full of the usual lawyer jargon but is extremely well written and presents our side of the case strongly. I just hope it will have the desired effect. I can’t see anything which I feel could be improved and see no reason to make any changes, so I telepho
ne Clinton Palmer and I’m put through by his secretary.
“Hello, Mr Palmer. I’ve read the letter and I’m very happy with the way you have presented the offer. I would like you to go ahead and send it. I’ll confirm this to you in the next five minutes via email so if you can get it sent out today I would appreciate it.”
“Yes, of course, Mr Sheldon. I will ensure it goes out today. Leave it with me and as soon as I hear from the other party I’ll be in touch.”
I put down the phone and send a reply to the email confirming my instructions.
The migraine seems to be getting worse and I decide I can’t face doing anything more today. I go through to the general office and tell everyone I don’t feel very well and I’m going home. Stevie asks if I would like him to drive me home and I say that would be good.
Fifteen minutes later, we arrive at Meadowcroft.
That evening everyone goes home from the offices looking worried. They are concerned for me as they look upon me as the man who is the engine of the operation but they can see I’m not myself. Susan Heffer, in particular, is worried about me.
Chapter Forty-Three
DAVE
Today is the day. Dave has arranged a job for two Algerian thugs he uses from time to time. The last occasion was nearly two years ago when he needed them to make something look like a hit and run accident and now he has use of their services once more. For the sum of £10,000 each, they will dispose of James Sheldon and make it look like suicide. The authorities will find a typed note in his pocket saying he confesses to have stolen the Lotto ticket and Dave’s files, and since he has been discovered, he doesn’t want to live with the guilt.
One of the porters at the Grand Hotel has been making at least £200 a week from Dave by finding clients for his girls; businessmen in the area for a night or two and wanting some female company. Easy money. Just a phone call and once a week he gets a cash payment. Today the porter can make a quick £500. All he has to do is make sure the alarm on the door to the roof of the hotel is not working and also ensure the camera in the basement car park has something obscuring its view. As an incentive, yesterday Dave sent one of his girls to give the hotel employee a little extra ‘thank you’.
Yes, by tomorrow, James Sheldon will be dead and his ‘suicide confession’ will ensure Dave gains control of the Lotto winnings.
Game set and match.
Chapter Forty-Four
SUICIDE
There’s a knock on the door of the office marked MJA Housing Foundation and a man and a woman walk in. The man is around forty years old; he’s dressed in a smart suit and has an air of authority about him. The woman is around thirty and has shoulder length dark brown hair. She is wearing a mid-blue trouser suit and has a plain black bag over her left shoulder.
“I’m looking for Susan Heffer,” says the man.
“I’m Susan Heffer.”
“Hello, I’m Detective Chief Inspector Howard Neave, and this is my colleague, Detective Sergeant Carla Parsons.”
They produce warrant cards and show them to Susan.
“Do you know a Mr James Sheldon?”
“Yes. He’s the founder of the charity. Is there a problem?”
“I’m afraid you need to prepare yourself for some bad news. At around eight pm last night we received a call from the Grand Hotel. A man we believe to be Mr James Sheldon went up to the roof of the hotel and jumped. His body was discovered a few minutes later. He would have died instantly. We’re trying to trace any relatives.”
“No! Can’t be. Are you sure it’s James?”
“We believe so. There was a suicide note in his pocket, which is how we found you. It said he was sorry for all the mess and for lying to everyone. As we understand it, he had no immediate family so we are wondering if someone who knew him would come and identify the body. He fell from a great height and has sustained major facial injuries. It won’t be an easy task. He’s a former police officer and we’re currently checking his fingerprints, so we’ll have confirmation at some point this afternoon. Perhaps in the meantime you can help us in another way. As I said, he left a suicide note. The last line says, ‘Now I’ve been caught I don’t want to face everyone and this is the best way out.’ Can you tell us what he meant by that remark?”
Chapter Forty-Five
STEVIE
The previous evening
Stevie has arranged to go out with a girl he met recently and had already been on one date with, Jackie Houston. She works in the Mayflower coffee shop in the centre of town. He arranges to meet her at Henry’s Bar at eight o’clock.
At seven thirty, having had a shower and changed into clean clothes, Stevie looks out of the window of the apartment. The weather certainly hasn’t improved. It looks even colder and the rain doesn’t help. It isn’t heavy rain but it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon.
That’s not a problem since he knows he can borrow James’ car any time he likes. He knows James certainly won’t be going anywhere in his current state.
However, the nearest car park to Henry’s is the Arcade car park and from there it is at least a three-minute walk to the bar. Stevie curses as he realises he has left his thick winter overcoat at the office. James’ coat is in the hall and after a moment’s thought he picks it up and throws it on.
He walks down to the building entrance, pulling up the collar of the coat to shield himself from the wind and rain. He quickly walks across to the car with his head down inside the coat. He has barely shut the driver’s door and put the key in the ignition when a big figure jumps into the passenger seat beside him. For a moment, he thinks it might be James recovered from his migraine and ready for a night out. However, when he sees the gun being pointed at his side he almost freezes.
“What do you want? I’ve only got about twenty pounds in cash. It’s yours.”
“I don’t vant your money. Just drive where I tell you,” says a voice with a heavy East European accent.
Stevie follows the instructions.
Several times he thinks about trying to make a grab for the gun but his unwelcome passenger keeps it close to the back of the seat and it would take at least a second to try and grab it, by which time he knows the gun could easily be used on him. Maybe he can wait until they get to wherever he is being taken.
Stevie is given instructions as he drives.
“Pull into the car park,” snaps the passenger.
Stevie does as he is told and drives down the slope into the basement car park.
“Stop at the far end and then get out of the car.”
As he is climbing out, Stevie wonders if now would be the best time to make a dash for it, but with the heavy coat on he doesn’t think he can outrun his unknown passenger.
“Stand against the wall.”
The thug with the gun puts his hand into his left pocket as he continues to hold the gun in his right. Not for one second does he take his eyes away or lower the gun.
He pulls out his phone and presses to call a number that is obviously pre-entered.
“We’re here in the car park. Come down.”
After a minute of waiting, the lift opens and out steps another heavily built man. Looking around he makes his way over. “Turn around,” he barks at Stevie. This second thug grabs his arms and ties his hands behind his back.
“What’s going on?” Stevie struggles. “I thought this was a robbery. Don’t you want my money? What’s this all about?”
“Silence, or you’ll get it,” says the first man.
They wait as the second man goes over and calls the lift. When it arrives without anyone emerging from it, he beckons them over. All three men get in the lift and the top floor button is pressed.
The lift goes ‘ding’ and the recorded voice announces the top floor.
When the doors open the second man moves out, looks both ways along the hallway and then beckons to them to follow. They turn right and walk to the end of the hallway to a door marked ‘Emergency Exit’.
>
The door is opened and Stevie is pushed out into the cold air with both men following. The first man has been holding his tied hands all the time since they were in the basement car park and he is still holding them tightly. The second man reaches into his inside jacket pocket and produces a piece of paper. He looks at the paper, keeping it in his gloved hand; he seems to be reading it. Then he gives out a small short chuckle, folds the paper, and puts it into the left-hand side pocket of Stevie’s coat.
Stevie is getting really worried. “What do you want from me? What have I done to you?” He is now panicking and shaking with fear.
The man holding his tied hands pushes him forward. They are close to the edge of the building.
Stevie isn’t sure what to think. At this point he would gladly tell them anything they want to know.
Suddenly, and to Stevie’s relief, the first man starts to untie his hands. In a second they will be free. It looks like they are going to let him go.
With his hands released, Stevie starts to ask the man what the hell is going on. At this moment, the man lifts both his hands and gives Stevie a massive push. He falls backwards and trips over something.
That something is the edge of the building.
Chapter Forty-Six
JAMES
After an early night, the migraine has gone and I’m feeling refreshed. I walk into the offices at ten fifteen am and I’m wondering why the receptionist on the main entrance is looking at me so strangely.
Going up to the first floor, I enter the general office of MJA Charity Foundation to find Susan Heffer with Jill Dean and Alison Crook all seated together. It looks like Susan and Jill have been crying. There’s no sign of Stevie; he must have stayed over late at his new girlfriend’s place.
