Cleaver Square

by Sean Campbell

  'Bad,' Morton replied as his wife simultaneously asked for the good news. Morton jerked his head towards Sarah, indicating deference to her choice.

  'Okay. Essentially we can split up the identity thefts into two groups. Group number one is where your own money was taken. That's all the unauthorised charges against your debit cards, bank account transfer, and the sale of your stock portfolio. Group number two is where someone else's money was stolen via the victim's credit. That's anything that was taken using credit in your name, so: credit cards, loan applications, that sort of thing. The latter we can sort easily. The relevant law, which is called the Consumer Credit Act, says you're only liable for the first fifty pounds of an unauthorised transaction. There are twelve transactions here, so your liability is capped at six hundred pounds. We'll send out a letter asking the issuing bank to waive the charges entirely. If they refuse, I'd recommend you pay the statutory fee. It will be cheaper than challenging it in court.'

  'That's the good news?' Sarah asked incredulously.

  'I'm afraid so, Mrs Morton.' Teddy turned towards David. 'Do you know how common identity theft is from your work with the Met?'

  'One victim per hundred people?' David guessed. Financial crimes were not his forte.

  'One in four. Quite often it's fairly inconsequential, something like a rogue charge on a credit card, or a flipped electricity supplier. Most credit card providers simply reverse the charge if they are notified promptly. The problems occur when the victim doesn't notice. Looking at your statement, we can see there was a negligible charge of ninety-six pence to PayPal. This is common in identity theft as the thieves check to see if a card is active.'

  'But how did they get all the details they needed to use the card? Didn't his PIN protect him?'

  'You never need a PIN online. There are different kinds of credit card charge. First, we have the basic charge in person. That uses a PIN to verify the card owner's identity. Though I'm sure you guys remember signing your own name!'

  The Mortons nodded. Signing had been much easier than remembering dozens of four-digit combinations for different cards. At the thought of PIN combinations, it was Sarah's turn to blush a fierce shade of red.

  'Sarah, got something you want to share?' her husband teased.

  'I changed all my PINs to the same code,' she whispered conspiratorially.

  'You silly mare!' Morton's anger surfaced swiftly.

  The lawyer raised a hand to regain control. 'The PIN doesn't matter. These weren't PIN transactions. For those they'd need to either steal your card, or clone it. That isn't what happened here. You've still got your cards, so you wouldn't be liable for a PIN transaction.'

  'See. Not my fault, David. You are such a drama queen.'

  'Sorry,' David mumbled inaudibly.

  'Come again, I didn't quite catch that,' Sarah goaded.

  Morton ignored his wife, and tried to steer the conversation back on track. They were paying by the hour, after all. 'So what happened?'

  'The thieves used 'customer not present' transactions.'

  Morton must have looked confused because Teddy went on to clarify, 'Like when you buy things online. So if you order from Amazon, that's a customer not present transaction as you aren't physically there to type in your PIN.'

  'So anyone with the card number can order stuff using my card?' Morton's mouth hung open in surprise.

  'Not quite. If the billing address and the delivery address are different, that's a flag. If the name isn't identical, that's a flag. If the landline number is registered elsewhere, that's a flag. Now, flags don't immediately stop transactions. Retailers set their risk level according to their needs. Gift transactions, mistyped names, use of short names or omission of initials. All of those can be perfectly legitimate but still raise a flag.'

  'I'm not sure I understand. What is a flag?'

  'It's like a warning. Each is weighted so some are more important than others. Too many warnings, or a critical warning, and the transaction isn't processed.'

  'So they just posted themselves gifts?'

  'Again, it's not that simple. They could have – that's up to the police to investigate. They could have drop-shipped, i.e. bought something for someone else and shipped straight there. Or they could be funnelling money through payment processors. None of your charges seem to be retailers, just payment gateways. No way to tell where the money actually wound up. Western Union is almost entirely untraceable. A fake identity card, or a lax member of staff, and the thieves can pick up the money at any Western Union affiliate worldwide.'

  'So, can we reverse it with the bank?'

  'I spoke to the banks directly after you called me last week. They're saying it's your fault. The banking code says that you're only liable if you have treated your details 'without reasonable care'. The problem is that it's a woolly phrase, totally ambiguous.'

  'So they're arguing it's my fault because I streamed a Chelsea game or two?'

  'That's the tall and short of it.' The lawyer avoided eye contact.

  'Oh, come on. I wasn't stealing. The site asked for my details, I handed them over. We're not even sure that the streaming site is how they got my details anyway. This is pure speculation.' Morton shuffled in his seat.

  'David, as your friend I have to warn you. If you argue this in court, you'll have to declare to the world that you used an illicit streaming service. Whether you meant to do anything wrong or not, you know the newspapers will have a field day with it. They'll run a headline like "Famous cop cops free football". They're banking, excuse the pun, on you just keeping schtum. You might have a reasonable legal case, but this isn't a purely legal decision. You are a high-profile policeman. If you generate negative publicity towards the Met, then you might come under pressure from above to go quietly into the night.'

  'Can we trace where the money went? Surely the bank would know that,' Morton said.

  'They would. I'll send them a request, but chances are the money has been forwarded on several times by now, possibly even through other victims' accounts. We may never know where it ended up.'

  'Then let's fight the bank.'

  Sarah said nothing. If Morton had paid more attention to his wife's expression, he'd have realised that she valued her reputation much more than mere money. She didn't like the sound of losing her savings, but she knew her family would bail her out if she needed them to. It wasn't worth having her name dragged through the mud.

  CHAPTER 25: SMILE

  Dirk Raoult's polite smile deteriorated into a scowl once the constable delivering an evidence bag left his lab. In his opinion, the lab did all the hard work just so that the detectives could swan in and take all the credit. The real work was done under strict conditions that let the evidence do the talking. Supposition might have a place out in the world of policing, but in Dirk's domain the forensics were key.

  Dirk set the evidence bag on the table, used tweezers to remove the tooth, then surveyed it at 10x magnification. He scribbled on an A4 pad as he observed the tooth, 'Adult molar. Significant wear. Evidence label declares that it belongs to Eric Matthews (deceased).'

  So this was why Dirk had been asked to stay late. As the only dental forensic specialist in-house at Scotland Yard, Dirk saw more displaced teeth than anyone else he knew. A lesser specialist might have been tempted to crush the entire tooth. It was a functional method, but far from elegant, and it would have destroyed the whole sample.

  Instead, Dirk opted to take a horizontal section at the cervical root of the tooth. By taking only a small slice, he negated the need to fill in all the paperwork necessary to document methodology when destroying the whole sample. If a defence lawyer wanted to challenge his work, they could redo the examination using their own expert.

  'Upper First Left Molar, 136B0mg. No visual indication of fillings or caries.' Dirk alternated between examination and documentation. Just because the methodology wouldn't be going to court didn't mean that he could be sloppy.

  The tooth was treated wit
h 10 per cent natrium-chloride. Dirk then cut the tooth precisely along the enamel dentine joint using a motorised diamond plate. He drained the pulp, setting it aside in the regulation Eppendorf tube. Dirk powdered the roots, and mixed the result with sterile water using a centrifuge.

  Satisfied his work was done according to procedure, Dirk added an extraction buffer. The sample would need to rest at precisely the right temperature before the final step. Once the incubator was set at 56°C, Dirk placed the sample inside. In precisely eighteen hours, he would add proteinase, spin it all again, then dry the sample out. Then, and only then, could he test the DNA.

  It was boring, but it was specific, scientific and reliable. Just like Dirk.

  ***

  'Ladies and gents, good morning. I have progress for you today. Forensics were able to pull DNA from Mr Matthews' tooth. No match for his purported son, Charles Matthews of Cleaver Square.'

  The room collectively groaned, confusion spreading through the ranks.

  'Was he adopted, sir?' Ayala asked.

  'Or did Mrs Matthew get around a bit?' Tina said.

  Morton shrugged. With Mrs Matthews having been cremated, they've never be able to answer Tina's question definitively.

  'But curiously enough, it was a match for Joe Bloggs Junior. Joe is Eric Matthews' son. My impostor theory is looking more and more plausible.'

  'You're saying Joe Bloggs is Eric's son, and therefore he must really be Charlie Matthews. If the kid we met in Cleaver Square isn't related then he can't be Charlie. Are you sure the samples didn't get mixed up, boss?' Ayala asked incredulously.

  'Absolutely. The samples were digitised days apart. The Charles Matthews we met is not a relation to Eric Matthews. The dead body is, which explains why he had his father's Keppler Oechslan watch. What it doesn't explain is who the hell the Charles Matthews we met is.'

  'Switch-up at the hospital? Two kids called Charles Matthews, that could easily confuse a maternity nurse on a double shift, couldn't it?' Ayala tried for a third time.

  'That's not possible. The boys don't share mitochondrial DNA. They have different mothers. We know Joe is Eric Matthews' son, and he has Eric's watch. Eric died when Charlie was a toddler, so he can't have passed his watch to the wrong boy three years before then.'

  'Ah,' Ayala replied.

  Morton continued: 'I'll admit that we can't disprove Tina's 'the mother cheated' theory. It doesn't seem likely though. The only scenario that works is if Jacqueline cheated on Eric when she became pregnant with Charlie, and Eric had Joe with another woman.'

  'Then, with all due respect, sir, what's your theory?'

  Morton's eyes steeled at the obvious challenge to his authority, then slackened as he realised the team still didn't know much. It wasn't truly insubordination, but a genuine question.

  Tina spoke up, 'I'm still a little confused here. Am I right in saying that we know Joe Bloggs is related to Eric Matthews, and Charlie isn't related to either? We don't know which boy, if any, Jacqueline is related to as we don't have her DNA. She can't be related to both, as the boys don't share their mitochondrial DNA. I'm starting to like your impostor theory. But if Charlie isn't Charlie, who is he?'

  'I don't know. The only reason to take someone's identity is to hide your own, or profit from the victim's identity. We know that the real Charlie, whoever he may be, is in line to inherit a substantial sum. That could be a motive,' Morton said.

  'There has to be a record of the second child's birth somewhere. He's about twelve. You can't just hide a kid for that long. A neighbour would have noticed,' Ayala said.

  Morton paused. The kid's English was awful. What if he isn't from around here?

  'Right you are. Go and see the Grants' neighbours. See if they recognise our facial reconstruction photo. Tina, you're with me. If Charlie is an impostor, we need to find out who he is.'

  As Morton barked fresh orders, he could feel the energy in the room rising. It was the buzz of closing in on a difficult case. They were finally getting somewhere.

  CHAPTER 26: STAKEOUT

  Morton was watching a reality television program and contentedly taking sips from a bottle of beer when Tina flicked the television set off without warning.

  'Hey! I was watching that.'

  'My flat, my rules, big boy,' Tina smiled.

  'After I cooked you dinner. Again. That's just mean.' Morton pulled a face, sticking his tongue out like a child.

  'Ha-ha. I'd rather talk, and you're the only one here to talk to.'

  'That I am.'

  'So, what do you really think?' Tina Vaughn pouted, crimson-stained lips elongating the 'o'.

  'About what?'

  'Who is Charlie Matthews, and how do he, Eric Matthews and our Joe Bloggs Junior all fit together?'

  'I think it's too early to be sure; we know Charlie isn't a blood relation, but the other two are. Father and son. If Charlie is not related to the couple we thought were his biological parents, then maybe he has contact with his real family. We need to watch out for any phone calls he makes, any text messages or emails, and see if he has access to a bank account. If he's an impostor, he must have something tying him to his real identity.'

  'Or someone. This sort of identity theft would require real planning. How was the victim identified? When did they get switched?'

  'Our victim, if he is the real Charlie, was in the system. No one was looking out for him. We already know he's changed foster families multiple times. He would have been pretty vulnerable. I've ordered Ayala to talk to Charlie's former neighbours which should tell us when. I'm more worried about who our faux-Charlie could be. He's too young to have a record.'

  'But not too young to break the law. One of the kids I nicked last month for possession lived with his sister, his mum, his grandmother and his great-grandmother. All of them were smoking weed when I walked in. Oh, and his sister, all of sweet sixteen, was with child.'

  Morton met her gaze. 'And London has the highest crime rate in the country. Is it any wonder? I wouldn't have been responsible enough to look after a child properly when I was sixteen.'

  'You had your first at twenty-five didn't you?'

  'Yes. In wedlock. Stephen first, and Nick two years later.'

  'How are they doing? I haven't seen them since your barbecue last summer. You still haven't given me the recipe for those ribs...' Tina leant in as she spoke, closing the distance between her and David.

  'Err, thanks, I guess. That recipe is a family secret.' Morton blushed in surprise at the belated compliment, then his expression darkened. 'I haven't seen Stephen since then either.'

  'Why's that?' Tina asked.

  'I don't want to talk about it,' said Morton.

  'Fine. Just making conversation.' Tina folded her arms across her chest, leaning away as she did so.

  'Sorry, it's just a sore subject.' Morton swigged the rest of his bottle then set the empty down on the table with a thud.

  'OK, we'll talk about something else then,' she paused, her mind unable to conjure a good topic of conversation. Eventually, she reverted to the old stand-by, work. 'What's the plan on the Joe Bloggs Junior investigation?'

  'Tomorrow, we'll follow Charlie. If he isn't the real deal, hopefully we'll be able to spot that. We can't talk to him without a parent or guardian present, but there's no harm just watching.'

  'What's he going to do, walk home from school wearing a sign that says 'I'm an impostor'?'

  'Very droll. We've got no other leads. There's no harm sitting on him for an afternoon.'

  'No harm, but also no point.' Tina sounded sceptical.

  'Last time I checked, I was in charge. So it's happening.'

  'I do love it when a man in uniform gives me orders,' Tina drawled.

  Morton rolled his eyes. As if he hadn't heard that line before. 'Right, I'm going back to my hotel. Thanks again for inviting me over for dinner, even if I did have to cook it.'

  'Stay.'

  'I can't,' he held up his hand, his wedding band cat
ching the light, 'besides, I've already paid. See you tomorrow afternoon for the stakeout. If you're at a loose end in the morning, start looking online for anything connected to Charlie. If he's like my kids, he'll be on every social media site known to man.'

  Morton moved to grab his coat from the back of the kitchen chair, acutely aware of Tina's eyes following him as he made good his escape.

  'David?' Tina said breathlessly.

  'Yes?' He turned back towards her.

  She stepped forwards, so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek, 'Night.'

  'Goodnight, Detective Vaughn.'

  ***

  The clock ticked towards lunchtime as Ayala sat engrossed in his iPad. Screen after screen of scanned birth certificates flew by as Ayala flicked the screen to move between records. Finding Charles Matthews' birth certificate had been easy enough. With the advent of digital records, it had taken a simple search for 'Charles Matthews' + 'DATERANGE: 1997-2013'. But that birth certificate had been disproved by DNA already. Charles Matthews of Cleaver Square was not the son of Eric Matthews no matter what the official records said.

  'How's it going, handsome?' a Welsh voice called out.

  Ayala peered over his iPad to see Tina Vaughn take an opposing seat at the conference table. A bundle of documents landed on the table with a thud as she sat down. School records, social media printouts. Everything she could get without having to resort to a search warrant.

  'Slow. I can't find a second son, or other male relative.'

  'Well, he's probably not Jacqueline's son,' Tina replied simply.

  'So who is Charlie?'

  'Start looking for other kids in the system of the same age. The impostor had to come from somewhere.'

  'I can't find anything to suggest that. No adoption records. Not even a birth certificate yet.'

  'I haven't found anything either.'

  'Nothing at all? What kind of kid doesn't have Facebook?'

  'Exactly. This just keeps getting stranger and stranger. Who is Charlie Matthews?'

  ***

  'David, what the hell are we doing here?' Tina Vaughn leant towards the middle of the car, reaching for the drinks holder.