by Mark Daydy
Who was R. R. and did a mystery lie behind the glasses?
Probably not.
She peered through them to the shops across the street. Not bad. She felt she needed opera glasses. That way she might be able to see what was going on more clearly. She turned back into the shop still holding them up. A blurry man was coming toward her.
She lowered the glasses as Nick’s customer left with something in a small paper bag.
Nick came over.
“I could do with some advice,” she said.
“What kind of advice?”
“According to Frankie, Billy spent years putting together a collection of fake silver antiques. He got a dodgy valuer involved, had everything insured and then had them stolen. He used the insurance money to fund bigger crime.”
“If nothing else, Billy’s thorough.”
“The thing is – he cheated Uncle Eddie.”
“Paying him for services with a fake antique?”
“Yes.”
“So, Eddie assumed the cup was genuine?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s the whole story?”
“No, that’s Fast Frankie’s story.”
“Right.”
“Billy’s story is that Eddie stole the cup thinking it was genuine. He thinks Eddie was waiting for him to die before selling it. Billy says he never knew it was Eddie who stole it until I told him Libby had a fake silver cup.”
“Right, so… is Billy a crook or not?”
“He says he created a collection of fakes to use as collateral to raise a loan from a loan shark. Billy was a convicted crook. He couldn’t go to the bank. He paid a bent valuer at a good auction house to value the collection and hold it in storage.”
“So, the loan shark was satisfied the collection was real?”
“Yes. Billy says he used the loan to get himself into a legit business. Once he had that, he worked hard to repay the loan. Except Billy couldn’t let it be known the collection was fake, as the loan guy would have been annoyed. I’m thinking shoot-your-kneecaps-off annoyed.”
“And that’s it?”
“Yes.”
“Two versions, two possibilities…”
“Yes.”
“And what do you believe?”
“My gut instinct is Billy committed an insurance fraud and got involved in bigger crime. I think Eddie was an idiot, but he knew the cup was a fake when he accepted it as payment for whatever services he provided.”
“Why hide it in the loft?”
“So that Libby would think it was real and that Eddie was successful.”
“So, it all comes back to Billy. He’s a long-time villain.”
“Yes.”
“But he doesn’t owe Libby twenty thousand.”
“No – but this isn’t about money. It’s about doing the right thing. Billy’s had a good life and I want to bring him down.”
“Are you sure? You’re a reception manager at a theological college. Your strong point is providing refreshment packages for tired vicars.”
“I know. I’m not really sure how to go about it.”
“I could ask a friend – Detective Inspector Ian Crawford. He’s the guy whose wife paid two thousand for a fifty quid fake painting. I now advise her on antiques. He’ll be interested in fraud. He’ll sniff it out if it’s there.”
“What if I’m wrong?”
“Sometimes we have to back our judgement.”
“Yes… we do.”
Two elderly women came in.
“Vases?” one of them asked.
“Certainly, madam,” said Nick.
*
That evening, in her hotel room, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out at the night sky, each minute seeming like ten…
Lucy had already called Jane, who was relieved to hear from her. Jane had tried to get through a couple of times, but, of course, Lucy had rejected her calls. They made a promise to see each other again, and soon. According to Jane, nothing would get in the way of their friendship – and Lucy wanted to believe that.
She also called Victoria, but on hearing her voice, decided that her daughter’s sharing of the Leo business didn’t need to be mentioned – ever. From what she could piece together, Victoria had told Ellie in the spirit of making her mum, Jane, aware that middle-aged divorcees were a target demographic for romance scam artists.
The call had instead focused on happier things and ended with Lucy reassuring Victoria that she was tying up a few loose ends and would be back home on Sunday afternoon, and back at work on Monday morning.
Long after the call, she pondered the question.
What next?
Lucy wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she was doing it anyway. Nick’s friendly detective was okay for a call on Billy in the morning.
So, in her hotel room, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out at the night sky, she glanced at her watch.
10:05 p.m.
Nick would be with Jane.
30. Surprises
Sunday morning. A time for staying in bed. Or strolling with a pet dog.
Lucy was outside Billy Brown’s house with Nick and an unconvinced Detective Inspector Ian Crawford. She almost laughed. She had come to Sussex armed with the surefire knowledge that getting sucked into other people’s problems only ever ended badly.
And now…?
“I can’t say I’m happy about this,” said Crawford, ringing the doorbell. “I’m not a big fan of dusty old cases.”
“Hopefully, he’ll confess,” said Nick. “Or at least give you enough signs that he’s guilty.”
“I’m sure it’ll be straightforward,” said Lucy.
“Nothing’s straightforward,” said Crawford. “Otherwise decent people would be able to buy antiques without getting stitched up.”
A moment later, a puzzled-looking Billy Brown opened the door.
“My birthday’s not till next month.”
“Don’t give me any of that,” said Crawford. “I’m assuming you’re Billy Brown?”
“And I’m assuming you’re a cop. What’s this about?”
“I’m Detective Inspector Crawford and I’m making some preliminary enquiries into a suspected fraud case. Would you be so kind as to put the kettle on and provide some answers?”
“Do you have a warrant?”
“I have no intention of searching you or your home, I simply have a slight headache from a late night and would appreciate some public-spirited coffee.”
Billy glanced at Lucy.
“I knew you’d be trouble.”
He turned inside and disappeared into the hall, leaving the door open.
A few minutes later, they were all seated in the lounge with instant coffee in cheap mugs.
“You look pleased,” Billy said to Lucy.
But she wasn’t pleased. The look on her face was more likely anxiety. But she would push through it and get to the truth. That wasn’t in question. Libby wouldn’t be getting any money, but at least Billy Brown would be held to account.
“Let’s cut through all the niceties,” said Crawford. “Lucy, you dragged me here – why don’t you remind us what’s what.”
Lucy stood up and paced to the window before turning. She wasn’t sure why, although it did seem an approach that was popular with TV detectives bringing their cases to a conclusion. Certainly, Poirot seemed to enjoy it.
“I think I know everything,” she said. “Billy, you spent years putting together a collection of fake silver antiques. You got a dishonest valuer involved, you had everything insured, and then you arranged to have the collection stolen. We can come to what you did with the insurance money later.”
Billy nodded. “And you got this information from Fast Frankie?”
“Yes, but I believe it’s true.”
“And did Frankie mention which insurance company I defrauded?”
Lucy was ready for that one. “This would have been decades ago, long before things went online. It would take a long time to tra
ck it down, but the police will if you won’t tell us.”
Crawford sighed. “Billy, the idea is that you confess and save me a lot of paperwork. Can you recall the name of the insurance provider you defrauded?”
Billy eyed Lucy. “Is this really down to your aunt finding her cup wasn’t a genuine antique?”
“Yes, first there was the cup, and then Eddie’s connection to you…”
Lucy was searching for a way to frame her conclusion, because at that moment she had never felt more assured in taking her next step. As she considered her approach, her gaze alighted on a photo on the wall beside the fireplace. It was young Billy with the racing car called Rocket.
Except…
Billy knew all about the Howards…
He knew because…
She studied the photo more closely.
“Everything okay?” Nick asked.
“Yes, it’s…”
But something, somewhere in Lucy’s brain had clicked. That first time she came into this room, he didn’t call the car ‘rocket’, he said it ‘went like a rocket’.
She had a bad feeling.
The photo. The car. Its name painted on the side. Roc… with the rest of the word hidden behind the handsome young man…
“This car…” She turned to Billy. “Is it called Rocinante?”
“Yes, it is,” said Billy.
“Do what?” said Crawford.
“Yes, so,” Lucy continued, “is that a young you?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Then is it a cousin of a woman called Virginia Kirby.”
“Yes, it’s Ray Flynn. He’s my cousin too.”
Lucy felt her grip on reality beginning to slip. What did it mean?
Inspector Crawford huffed.
“Can I ask where this is getting us? From where I’m sitting, I’d say we’re hurtling at top speed to nowhere.”
But Lucy’s focus was on Billy.
“So… you’re related to Virginia?”
“She’s my sister.”
Lucy gulped. “Oh my…”
“How else did you think she got in touch with you? I told her you’d paid me a visit. It took her bloody ages to find one of your posters. I wish I hadn’t bothered now.”
Lucy’s brain was rapidly trying to rearrange everything. She felt like a victim of a TV prank show.
“Okay, okay… give me a second… so Ray knew Ned-Rocinante long before Libby did.”
Crawford growled. “Unless Ned Rocinante is a mafia hitman, I’m off. There’s a bacon roll at home with my name on it.”
“We were all close family,” said Billy. “Ray lost his mum in an air raid when he was a baby. She’d gone to the cinema with my grandad’s sister for a few hours of respite… After the War, Ray lived with his dad, but we grew up like brothers. Did you know your Aunt Libby nearly married him?”
Lucy took a breath. “Ray and Libby?”
Inspector Crawford cracked. “Okay, what the effin’ ’eck is going on?”
“It’s my fault,” said Lucy. “When I said I knew everything, I was actually completely wrong. Don’t worry, it’s all rushing into my head now.”
“What are you on? Crack cocaine?”
Lucy stared out of the rear window to the garden.
“We have to call this off.”
“Call it off?”
“Yes, I’m sure Billy’s innocent.”
“What? You are seriously close to big trouble.”
“Hang on, Ian,” said Nick, “she can explain. You can explain, can’t you?”
“If you don’t explain,” Crawford gasped, “I’ll have you down the station for wasting my Sunday morning. And believe me, that’s a very serious charge.”
Despite feeling light-headed, Lucy faced him down.
“Billy and Virginia are brother and sister. Ray the racing driver was their cousin. They all had a rocking horse called Rocinante. The horse became Ned, owned by Sylvia, Eleanor and then Libby. Ray later drove a racing car called Rocinante. Libby fell in love with him. I’m assuming there was an age difference?”
“Seven years,” said Billy.
Crawford looked set to explode. “So bloody what?”
Tears filled Billy’s eyes.
“My cousin and best friend. He was going to marry your aunt Libby. She was only eighteen…”
“What happened?” asked Crawford. “Did he die in a crash?”
“Ray’s not dead,” fumed Billy. “He lives in Bognor.”
“Same thing,” Crawford huffed.
Lucy considered it. “I’m guessing the Howard family put a stop to it because they held Ray in low regard. His cousins were servants to the Howards.”
Billy nodded. “Ray ended up running a boat hire business, but he retired when his wife died. It’s just him and his dog now.”
“I’m not interested in this twaddle,” said Crawford. He eyeballed Lucy. “How does any of this prove this man is innocent of defrauding an insurance company?”
But Lucy was certain.
“My instincts are now that Billy is honest. An awkward man, but a good one.”
“Because he had a horse and a racing driver cousin?” Crawford turned to Nick. “She is half an inch from being arrested for wasting police time.”
“I believe Billy’s version,” Lucy insisted. “He created a fake collection and had a dodgy valuer value them. They were good quality fakes. There were a lot of them about in those days. All made for the Edwardian years when there was plenty of money.”
“Spare me the history lesson,” said Crawford.
“Billy used the collection as collateral for a loan… and used the loan to create a legitimate business.”
“At last, someone’s talking sense,” said Billy.
“It sounds completely implausible,” said Crawford.
“It’s not,” said Lucy. “He did so because he had a criminal record. He had no choice. It was either bend the rules or spend his life bemoaning his lot.”
She felt a little awkward about that last point.
“Perhaps Billy should start at the beginning,” said Nick.
“Yes, well, keep it short,” huffed Crawford.
“It’s my turn to speak, is it?” said Billy. “Okay, once upon a time I lived in a lovely cottage.”
“Don’t take the piss,” Crawford insisted.
“Okay, but it was a lovely cottage…”
31. More Surprises
“My earliest memory is when I was five years old,” said Billy. “I was planting things in the little front garden of our place in Camley, and there was my grandad coming along the street with a creaky old handcart. And on it, our rocking horse. It had gone from my sister to my cousin, and now it was coming back home to me. In all my years, I’ve never been happier than at that moment.”
Crawford groaned.
“Give him a chance,” said Nick.
“A couple of years later, we lost everything. We had to leave our cottage because Mum owed so much in rent to Sir George. He even took the horse and gave it to his granddaughter. He told her it was a top-class antique specimen.”
“Nice man,” said Nick.
“Until Lucy turned up, me and my sister had no idea where the horse was. We didn’t want to ask any of the Howards. We promised ourselves a long time ago we wouldn’t rely on them for anything.”
“I don’t blame you,” said Lucy.
“In fact, the last time I relied on them was in the early sixties when I left the army after National Service. My sister was working for Sir George as a servant and got me a job there as a gardener. It came to quite an abrupt end though.”
“What happened?” asked Crawford.
“He died.”
“Did you murder him?”
“No.”
“There’s less and less for me to do here, isn’t there.”
“The Howards were always being charitable,” said Billy, “or so they thought. They had the best of us and they even took my horse. We had to
work hard for little in return and were never left in any doubt of the Howards’ superiority. I remember one day, I must have been nine… Sir George was reminding my mum that his family were helping my family with a roof over our heads. By that he meant a single room in a grotty house. Being a fair-minded boy, I stepped forward and promised him that if his family ever fell on hard times, I’d help them with a roof over their heads. He laughed and told me not to be so silly. But that only made me more determined to keep to my word.”
“So, the legit business?” said Lucy.
“Property,” said Billy. “A company called Charterhouse.”
“Wow,” said Lucy.
“The first property I bought was our old cottage with the yellow clematis I planted as a boy. I still pay someone to tend the front and back gardens today, even though it’s rented to a lovely senior citizen.”
“Oh my,” gasped Lucy. “Libby lives in your old home.”
“Yes, fully renovated and restored with an added garage and a new clematis. Moving Libby and Eddie there in the nineties without them knowing I owned it was a satisfying day for me. It took some leg work and the lowest rent on the market, but they were desperate.”
Lucy let it seep in. “Did you help Sylvia and Eleanor, too… without letting them know?”
“Yes, I did, after Eddie lost all their money. A promise is a promise.”
“It’s extraordinary,” said Lucy.
“You make it sound grand, but it started with a need to be in a position where no one would ever take my home away from me again. Of course, the business did grow over time – to thirty-five properties.”
“That’s amazing,” said Lucy. “Truly amazing.”
“Yes, yippee and hoorah,” said Crawford. “So that’s everything.”
“Not everything,” said Lucy. “Someone stole a silver cup.”
“At last, a crime. Who stole it?”
“No one,” said Billy. “It was all a misunderstanding. There was no theft and no crime.”
Billy winked at Lucy.
Crawford got to his feet.
“Nick, we’re even. In fact, you owe me.”
A moment later, they heard the front door close behind him.
Billy stood up.
“Fresh air, anyone?”
Lucy and Nick were soon on the patio with him. There was a plane high overhead. And birdsong.
