‘When you say we, superintendent——is this the plural of majesty, or——’
‘Putty and I,’ Kenworthy said simply. ‘We think it all fits in, you see. Barson was a nonentity when he first came out of the army. Still pedalling round the remote hamlets collecting twopence per person per week. It wasn’t until he announced his engagement to Enid Sawyer, on his twenty-first birthday, that things began to move. He was suddenly encouraged to take an active interest in politics, found a safe seat, given a worthless job at a preposterously high salary that gave him all the time in the world to play the high and mighty. I think that once Lesueur had shut the mother’s mouth he didn’t give two hoots about the kid, until he saw this chance to elevate her a little——though Putty says there was always that bit extra at number 19 at Christmas, that none of the neighbours could afford.’
‘Did Warren know this story?’
‘Undoubtedly. But he said not a word to me about it——which may in itself be significant. I’m sure he’s a stage ahead of us: he’ll know whether it’s rumour or fact. I’d give anything to know whether he did any of his evangelising on Hagley Brow. The questionnaires have drawn a stone cold blank up there.’
Wright splashed tap water into his whisky.
‘I think,’ he said, ‘if you don’t want me to get absolutely lost in this case, you’ve have to let me in on a lot more of the things you’ve been learning from——Putty——’
‘There you are, Shiner——you still don’t like saying the word, do you? There must be something innately pure and lovely about you. Oh——she’s a treasure, is our Putty. And all out of one cherry brandy, too. Don’t you think you ought to go to bed, boy?’
‘I want to hear more about Putty.’
Kenworthy laughed.
‘She’s a mine of information about what goes on up Hagley Brow. She presents the figure of Sir Howard Lesueur as something almost feudal. In fact, I do believe that’s what she thinks he is. Lesueur certainly believes it. In his relationships with his tenants, he’s as feudal as the twentieth century will allow him to be. He owns the long lease of practically all the slum property on that side of the town——and that reminds me. We must tap the town clerk about this, tomorrow morning: a fair acreage of it was condemned and demolished a couple of years back, and I’d love to know what Lesueur’s reaction was.’
He rolled a drop of whisky round the tip of his tongue.
‘Not that Lesueur’s attitude is necessarily oppressive. He likes to play the beaming landlord now and then. Two weeks’ free rent at Christmas for every tenant who hasn’t run into arrears in the course of the year, and free access to the woods on the Fellaby Moor Estate to collect brush-wood for kindling. Very conscious of noblesse oblige is Sir Howard——when it suits his book. Of course, he doesn’t go round the tenements himself——or very rarely. Rent-collectors do the weekly round, and anything out of the ordinary is done by Bill Hawley, in the gaps between running election campaigns and the Hall Estate. They think very highly of the colonel, up the Brow.’
‘The barman here had a good word to say for him. I liked him.’
‘It certainly seems to be Hawley’s job to temper Lesueur’s wind to the shorn lambs up the Brow. Many a tenant’s been tided past an eviction. Lesueur’s the big bad giant. Hawley irons out the troubles. I don’t think it’s as ingenuous as it seems. I think every move’s worked out, and the pair work as a perfect team.’
‘He certainly ironed things out for me. That’s why we’re going to dinner.’
‘Well, saving Lesueur’s face is Hawley’s main job.——And there you have it, Shiner. Putty knows it all. She also knows who’s pregnant, who’s behind with the milk, and who’s making the most of who else’s night-shift.’
Wright rinsed out his glass. It was already after eleven o’clock. He had lost every chance of getting a meal in Fellaby that night. He began to fear that an empty belly would compete with his tiredness and that he was already committed to another sleepless night. But he remembered a machine which dispensed chocolate in one of the corridors of the hotel, and, wishing Kenworthy good-night, he made his way to it. But the column that had contained chocolate bars was empty and he had to settle for a tube of round, wrapped, viscous toffees. He took one as he slid into bed, and it was still half dissolved in his mouth when he awoke for breakfast.
He was late. He was late in the dining room, and so was Kenworthy. The two looked at each other with expressions that needed no expansion.
‘We’ll stick together today,’ Kenworthy said. ‘At least, we’ll try to. We’ve worked our fingers to the bone already, and we’re still no nearer to the end of the tunnel. Some cases are like this. I’ve never been able to learn to enjoy them.’
He told the briefing conference about his interview with Warren, but suppressed most of the details about Warren’s arrogance, and though he suggested that Warren might have found grounds for blackmailing Barson, he was careful not to link Lesueur’s name with any speculation. He made it clear to an unspoken question asked by many eyes that Warren was not to be detained, as things stood at the moment; and no one except Kenworthy was to approach him. The press could now be told that the man in the green hat had come forward of his own accord, had been questioned at length, and that he was in no way connected with the towpath murder.
‘Use that phrase. Give the public a new name for the case. Get the green hat out of their minds. But press on like hell with the questionnaires. No matter what other blanks we’ve drawn, press on with the questionnaires.’
Rhys sounded as if he might be on the verge of becoming argumentative.
‘These questionnaires——there are hardly any more to come in. And a full analysis of those we’ve done is available——’
Kenworthy had hardly looked at it.
‘I know. But the computer doesn’t say he went anywhere on Hagley Brow. That’s what I want someone to come up with——Warren paying a call on Hagley Brow.’
Rhys looked as if he were being asked to interview a creature from outer space.
‘Superintendent Kenworthy——we’ve visited every house on Hagley Brow.’
‘Well, visit them again. Some of them, anyway. You must know one or two families up there who would react to a little sensitive suggestion.’
‘Very good, superintendent.’
‘And I want some one working out in the county——a couple of pairs——going over the territory that Barson used to cover for his firm. I’ll brief these officers personally, when we adjourn.’
Two sergeants and two detective constables were told off for this assignment, and they gathered round Kenworthy when the main body had been dismissed. There was an eagerness in their eyes which Wright recognised as fast disappearing from his own make-up. They were young, they were keen, they were being singled out for something out of the ordinary. They were doing finger-tip work for the mighty Kenworthy.
Kenworthy took them over to the wall map and divided the county into segments, each dominated by a small town.
‘The man on whose heels you’ll be treading is Warren. I needn’t remind you that this calls for the last reserve of tact. You might even run into Warren himself, or one of his agents, in which case, you say not a word, not a blind word. Warren’s been over this area, and built up a dossier on Barson. I want you to do the same. Barson’s friends, Barson’s habits, Barson’s fancy bits. Go to restaurants, barmaids, betting shops, anywhere.’
‘Are we covered in other forces’ areas, sir?’
‘Rhys will get clearance for you. Work hand in glove with local nicks, where you feel it might help. If you get a line, follow it up. I don’t want to be bothered over trivial detail, but if you strike anything that obviously needs more weight than you carry, then lose no time in coming back to say so. You’re all experienced men, you know what I mean. I don’t necessarily expect big results today, though I should like them. I shall certainly want brief reports tonight——any time tonight. Understand?’
T
he girl who had typed Wright’s statement about the Bad Siebenhausen crimes came up and handed him the finished product. Malpas came up to say he had done as much as needed to be done on the borough falsification charges.
‘Straightforward, really. And the quantity surveyor has coughed, so there’s no need for a clutch of statements.’
‘Any sign of ramifications?’
‘What sort of ramifications?’
‘Any similar ploys? Any other councillors involved? Any offer of similar favours to members of the general public?’
‘Anything like that wouldn’t have been easily apparent. I only went into it as a single isolated case. Nobody said anything to me about ramifications.’
‘What system did they use to cover up the stock they were filching?’
‘They had created a reserve supply by writing off as unserviceable material received from the wholesalers. A certain percentage margin would go unquestioned.’
‘Yes,’ Kenworthy said. ‘I once heard of a similar fiddle being worked with army transport.’
‘Anything further for me, superintendent?’
‘I don’t think so, inspector.’
‘I mean, now this case is tidied up, I’m free for any other angle you’d like me to cover.’
‘I’m sure your chief superintendent will be glad to feel that his own C.I.D. can now have your undivided attention.’
Malpas left them with his shoulders sunk in dudgeon.
‘Nobody said anything to him about ramifications!’ Kenworthy snorted. ‘That’ll teach him to come the acid on my sergeant when we ask for a second look at a broken window. Come——let’s go and see the town clerk.’
Belfield received them with a sigh, a smile and a dramatic sweeping aside of papers relating to other work.
‘At least I have to thank you gentlemen for an astringent influence on my staff. Things are coming up for my signature that I wouldn’t have set eyes on last week.——Or is this simply going to stifle all initiative?’
‘They’ll settle down to normality soon enough.——It’s Sir Howard Lesueur we want to talk to you about. Not a friend of yours, I believe?’
The town clerk looked thoughtfully at Wright, but now that Kenworthy was present, he showed no reluctance to express his opinions.
‘What does he do?’ Kenworthy asked.
‘I told you yesterday——shapes the whisper of the council chamber.’
‘I mean——where does his money come from?’
‘From his money,’ the town clerk said.
‘You mean, he inherited it?’
‘No. He’s self-made. I don’t know much about his beginnings. They weren’t in Fellaby. There’s something of the nineteenth century novel about him, I’m told. As a very young man he became a faithful partner to a very old one. When the very old one died, he left him a decrepit but viable business. They were accountants——audited company books and gave advice on tax evasion.’
‘Is that his main line now?’
‘Only on his own account. He hasn’t touched public accountancy for years——not in the memory of anyone who knows him in this town. Nowadays it’s anything and everything——anything that will pay, with an uncanny knack of anticipating markets by a year or two. The man has had consistent luck, as well as judgment——but that’s not to deny that he has judgment.’
‘And the knighthood?’
‘For political services——perhaps supported by very handsome contributions to party funds over a very long period of time. But please don’t let me insinuate that he hasn’t given service. He kept his party embers smouldering here throughout the depression. Two consecutive lord lieutenants have leaned very heavily on him. He is said to have known where to spend his money during a royal visit. And, of course, he’s given a tremendous amount away: a new surgical unit to the Fellaby hospital. Four fifths of the war memorial.’
‘He told me he’d given you your museum,’ Wright said.
‘Given? Saddled us with its upkeep, you mean! No, sergeant, Lesueur has too much business acumen for that. One day that property’s due for development under the town plan. It’ll have to come down. And when that day dawns, it remains Sir Howard’s to sell. You can’t afford to give unless you’re actually on the make.’
‘He rents out a lot of property in the town, I believe——on the Hagley side.’
‘And if you’d wanted to catch Lesueur with his guard down, you ought to have seen him at the Appeal, a year or two ago, when we managed a demolition order for a couple of acres of the worst of it. He brought up one of his tame architects to show what delectable property it was. That was after someone’s gas-cooker had fallen through the kitchen floor into a cellar no one knew existed. Lesueur cut a very pathetic figure indeed, but the national press had no room for it, and the local papers played it down.’
‘Isn’t it surprising that he’s stopped at a knighthood? It can’t be through lack of ambition or effort.’
‘A barony, you mean? I’m sure that many an Honours List has disappointed him. If these things can be bought——and I’m not saying they can——he’s bought his way into the Lords three times over. But somehow, amongst the real party bosses, his nose doesn’t seem to fit. I don’t know where the blockage is, but there’s something somewhere. Politically, Lesueur is local fry——big local fry——but that seems to be his ceiling.’
Kenworthy rubbed his lips with the stem of his pipe. Wright was taking copious notes.
‘Now if I were to ask you, town clerk, what undertakings Lesueur is concerned in at the present time——?’
‘I’d say that you’ve got your own channels, which can tell you very much more than I can. But you would have to glean your information from a variety of sources. Lesueur is a strong believer in the incompatibility of right hand and left.’
‘You could mention a few.’
‘Lesueur keeps his own tally. I should think he’s lodged two halves of his will with two separate solicitors.’
‘A few,’ Kenworthy repeated.
‘Whiteway Motors——that’s a second-hand net-work on the coast; Kestrel Unit Trusts; he has a controlling interest in Herbison, Son and Lever, the estate agents; he made a packet in I. T.V. in the early stages; Trefoil Breweries. Those are some of the ones we know about——probably the least important.’
‘Did you know that he is the power behind the firm that employed Barson?’
‘I didn’t——but it doesn’t surprise me. I know he isn’t on the board of directors. I remember looking, when Barson wrote to me once on the firm’s note-paper.’
‘The board is just a front. He has the majority holding.’
‘This is one of his favourite ways of acting. He is fond of majority holdings and false fronts. He has propped up a number of decaying businesses in that way——and always at the turn of the tide.’
‘And where does Colonel Hawley come into all this?’
‘He is his chief of staff——politically and on the estate. If he interests himself on the commercial side, it’s not apparent. I dare say he has some substantial investments.’
‘What sort of Colonel?’
‘Lieutenant-colonel. He was a sapper major, who retired with honorary rank. He passed staff college as a career officer, was G 2 at 8th Army and survived Montgomery, so I’ve always assumed that he was not without ability.’
‘How long has he been Lesueur’s factotum?’
‘Since between the wars, and ever since the last one.’
‘People seem to like him.’
‘He is a genial type——and he has often cushioned off some of Lesueur’s more savage blows. He has always been adept at keeping both sides sweet. That’s his job, of course.’
‘Would he talk about Lesueur, do you think?’
‘Behind his back? Definitely not. Jocularly, perhaps, but certainly not factually. Mind you, he did once have a stand-up row with Lesueur.’
‘Oh?’
‘Over the Appeals Tribunal that I ment
ioned just now. Hawley had to give evidence about the Hagley slums. I won’t go so far as to say that he told the whole truth——but he didn’t tell any blatant lies. In my view it was Hawley who lost Lesueur’s case for him. Lesueur was livid.’
‘But they made it up?’
‘Yes——because Lesueur couldn’t cope without him. And it was rumoured that Hawley got a salary rise before he withdrew his resignation. In any case, he’d taken the long-sighted view. If Lesueur had won that Appeal, he’d have lost what bit of affection he can command.’
Kenworthy indicated the piles of papers awaiting attention on the town clerk’s desk.
‘I’m well aware that we are robbing you of the lion’s share of a morning’s work.’
‘I’ve done no real work this week. The sooner you’ve gone back to London, the sooner I can start again.’
‘It was Barson’s job to interpret Lesueur’s will to his party group on your council?’
‘For what that is worth. I believe that it was no more than a craving for control——or, to put it negatively, the inability to tolerate not being in control. There was no money in borough council business for Lesueur——not Lesueur’s kind of money.’
‘Not in any aspect of council affairs?’
‘I cannot see it.’
Kenworthy leaned forward, adamant.
‘If there were anything in it for Lesueur, it would lie, would it not, in the sphere of redevelopment?’
‘Possibly.’
‘And the prizes in that sphere would make it well worth while planning and waiting, play-acting and mayor-making, perhaps over a considerable period of years?’
‘Possibly.’
‘Mr Belfield——what schemes for redevelopment are pending in this borough?’
Death of an Alderman Page 11
