“I think we need more pressure on Frank Brandon’s widow. I also think we need to find out more about her finances. If, as we know, she does have ten million or more, then this must be checked out. If it was drug money paid into her various accounts over the years, we need the accountant to be requestioned. The fact that she has admitted that her ex-partner was Anthony Collingwood, one of the names used by Alexander Fitzpatrick, makes it possible that he is in the UK.”
Phil gestured that he wanted to say something. “But if, as we are led to believe, Fitzpatrick has megamillions stashed in the USA, why is he back here? Also, what is the connection to the drug squat in Chalk Farm?”
Anna looked at the board. “I keep on coming back to the possibility that it was something or someone inside the squat he was after—that is, if we can prove that the man who accompanied Frank Brandon was Fitzpatrick.”
To date, Phil interjected, the people identified and murdered were all lowlifes. Why would a man like Fitzpatrick want to be involved with the likes of Donny Petrozzo, let alone Stanley Leymore, and even Julius D’Anton? D’Anton may have been a cut above the others, but not much: he was a junkie, living hand to mouth, buying and selling antiques.
Anna turned back to the board. “Okay, I hear what you are saying, Phil, but D’Anton was at Balliol at the same time as Alexander Fitzpatrick; he dined out on the fact that he used to know him. By coincidence, he went after an antique table at a local fair in Shipston on Stour, then tried to find out where the table came from—a cottage not far from the farm where Honour Nolan lives. D’Anton s van breaks down; it’s a really narrow lane with ditches either side, maybe he walks to the farm …”
“And maybe sees Fitzpatrick?”
“Yes.”
“That is, if he is there, or even in the country.”
“Let’s say that he is,” Anna said tetchily.
Phil continued. “D’Anton next gets to borrow a Mitsubishi—from the farm?”
“We don’t know, but he is seen driving it.The table wouldn’t fit into the back, remember.”
“So D’Anton, without his table, returns to London; his wife is off with her builder; he gets dumped in the Thames; then we find Petrozzo’s body inside the Mitsubishi!”
Anna chewed her lips. “We’ll have more details as soon as the tests have been done on the samples of soil taken at the farm.”
“Yeah, but in the meantime, we’re still waiting on toxicology reports—how long is that all going to take? Right now we have no confirmation on what killed Donny Petrozzo or our junkie friend from the Thames.”
“What about the boat. Dare Devil, seen at the Nolans’ farmhouse?” This was Gordon asking.
Anna said they would need verification of ownership, as it did not have the same name as the boat they knew to have been previously
owned by Fitzpatrick. She again brought up the fact that the painting of the boat had been taken down from the study in the farmhouse.
“So what is that going to give us?” Phil again.
“That both Honour and Damien lied about how well they knew Fitzpatrick.”
“Even so, what does that give us? I mean, maybe they knew him a long time ago; he was with Honour’s sister for years—if he is the man she calls Anthony Collingwood.” Phil was getting rattled.
“How many Anthony Collingwoods are in the phone book?” Anna was starting to get angry herself. “Has anyone tried to trace him?”
Pamela Meadows said that she had been running through the Anthony Collingwoods listed in the telephone directory, but to date they had all checked out as legitimate.
“Keep going. If Julia Brandon admits to living with him or someone using that name, there has to be some kind of record that he existed,” Anna said briskly.
Phil gave an open-armed gesture. “Why? Right now Julia Brandon is not a suspect for the murder of her husband. The fact she lived with someone doesn’t give us anything, even though you believe that man could possibly be Alexander Fitzpatrick. Let’s say he was: we have not a shred of evidence in our case that involves him. What we do have are three dead men.”
“And we’ve made a connection between all of them,” Anna snapped, her patience at breaking point. “What we do not have is the identity of the man we know entered that drug squat with Frank Brandon, and the reason I am constantly bringing up Alexander Fitzpatrick is because there is a strong possibility it was him.”
“In your opinion.”
“Yes, in my opinion!”
“Why? Why does an international drug dealer, a man wanted around the world, a man known to have stashed away millions from his drug trafficking, want to be back in the UK? In addition, for me, the big question is still what the fuck is he doing with Frank Brandon in that shithole in Chalk Farm? All we’ve got are smalltime drug dealers. Yes, they do all link together, but none link back to your kingpin.You think he’d bother
with this lowlife? That is, if he is even in the country? Far be it from me, but all you are bringing up is supposition without any firm evidence. I mean, I may eat my words when we eventually get the bloody forensic reports in, but I can’t jump the hoop of coincidences with you.”
Anna took a deep breath to calm herself. “Okay, if that is the consensus, let’s concentrate on how we proceed until we do have the toxicology reports and the geographic tests. We are still hanging loose with a number of registration numbers of cars known to have been parked around the drug squat, so push for tracing those outstanding.”
Anna continued to outline the work for the team, tight-lipped. In the meantime, she would attempt to firm up her suppositions, and would start by requestioning Julia Brandon and her accountant. She caught the look Phil gave to two members of the team and her irritation boiled over: she said crossly that, to date, they should all pay notice to exactly what she had personally produced for the case. They broke up and a trolley of coffee was wheeled in. Phil kept well away from her.
Anna returned to her office, furious. She sensed that part of the reason Phil had been deriding virtually everything she said was that he felt that he should have been handling the case in Cunningham’s absence.
Her office door opened and the man himself put his head around the door frame. “I’m having meetings with the Drug Squad—checking out what they can give us on the occupants of the squat, see if they have any leads for us. You want to come along?”
“No, I’m going into the West End to meet with Mr. Rushton, Julia Brandon’s financial adviser.”
Phil gave a noncommittal shrug and walked out, as Gordon entered.
“I should have brought this up at the briefing; you’re taking your time checking out that boat from the painting, Gordon.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve already done some digging. I’ve got a call into the Registry of Shipping and Seamen, they’re in Cardiff. Apparently, all ships are registered and given a number which never changes. A registered ship must also have a name different from any other ship and these numbers are carved into the main beam of the ship.”
“For Christ’s sake, Gordon, get on with it—see if you can trace Dare Devil. I’ll be on my mobile.”
“It’ll cost twelve pounds for a current search of ownership and, if we want photocopies of the ledgers, that’ll cost twenty-three pounds. These searches will show mortgages of the boats and—”
Anna sighed. “Just do it, Gordon, and get back to me.”
“Okay, I just wanted your permission to pay them.”
“You’ve got it. Now go on, get moving.” A minute later Anna snatched up her briefcase and was leaving the office, when her desk phone rang. She hesitated and then answered.
It was Gordon again. “Look, this is going to take some time. Any ship used outside UK waters, or over twenty-four meters, has to be registered, but it’s quite a haul, as any ship can be owned by up to five people or companies. Those five can be divided up into as many as sixty-four shareholders.”
Anna closed her eyes. “Gordon? Are you saying that you’ve tr
aced the boat?”
“No, not yet, but I am just saying it might take a lot longer if there are, say, sixty-four shareholders and maybe four or five owners.”
“Just do it, Gordon, and also check out Fitzpatrick’s previous boats listed on his Web site. One was a big power cruiser—see who bought it from him.”
“Okay, I’ll get cracking.”
“Thank you!” Anna slammed down the receiver and walked out.
David Rushton’s offices were located on Jermyn Street, on the fifth floor of a small, but smart office block. Anna noticed how much security there was, from the CCTV cameras to the double locking device on his reception door. She had to wait to be buzzed in by a receptionist who was very guarded, as Anna did not have an appointment. Anna said she would wait until Mr. Rushton was available.
She sat in the reception area on a gilt-and-leather chair, having a good look around. Mr. Rushton was obviously very successful; numerous smart young men passed to and fro, and two attractive girls, carrying mounds of files, and wearing tight black skirts and high heels clicked past, flicking back their blond hair. Anna was pleased she had taken time dressing. Then she saw Rushton guiding out a young man
in a bomber jacket and jeans. Rushton glanced at Anna and ushered the man out before he acknowledged her.
“Sorry not to have made an appointment,” Anna said, standing.
Rushton glanced at his large gold-faced wristwatch and told the receptionist to ask his next client to wait. “I am very busy,” he said coldly.
“So am I,” Anna said, picking up her briefcase. She was led into a large, comfortable office with a leather sofa and matching armchair. The desk was oak with carved legs; the top was covered in thick glass and rows of telephones. On the walls were many certificates in gold frames, listing Rushton’s credentials and awards.
“Do sit down.”
“Thank you.” Anna perched on a leather chair in front of his desk; Rushton moved around to sit in a large swivel office chair. “We can do this informally here, or at the station. I need verification of exactly how your client Julia Brandon came to be such a wealthy woman.”
“That is a preposterous invasion of privacy. Mrs. Brandon pays her taxes; her wealth is no one’s business. If you require details of her various companies, then you could do that without my help. Just go to Companies House and check—it is all legitimate.”
“We have her bank statements from the time she lived in Oxford.”
He shrugged.
“You have given us the name Anthony Collingwood as Mrs. Brandon’s previous partner, and told us that he had engineered her finances—is that still correct?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever meet Mr. Collingwood?”
“No.”
“But if you never met Mr. Collingwood, how did he do that?”
Rushton sighed. “Telephone, e-mail, fax … I never knew where he was contacting me from.”
“Did this Mr. Collingwood arrange for Mrs. Brandon’s finances?”
“Yes. She was left a considerable fortune by him.”
“Is he deceased?”
“Not that I am aware of, but my association with Mrs. Brandon is as her financial adviser. We do not have any social connections.”
“How did you become her financial adviser?”
“She contacted me. I chink she may have met one or two of my clients.”
“When was this?”
He rocked in his chair. “About ten years ago.”
“You have handled her fortune since then?”
“That is correct.”
“Did she ever disclose where this money had come from?”
“She was given it. but that is really governed by client confidentiality.”
“So this very wealthy lady just contacts you?”
“Most of my clients have considerable wealth, some far more than Mrs. Brandon. She required my assistance in protecting her finances.”
“From what?”
“Taxes.”
“So when Mrs. Brandon contacted you she had what, this money in a bank account?”
“Yes, various accounts.”
“We would like access to these accounts.”
“They are dormant. I have, as I have already said, as Mrs. Brandon’s financial adviser, ensured that her monies are in the most productive and beneficialaccounts. Added to that, her investments are substantial.”
Anna crossed her legs. “But didn’t you ever inquire where these monies came from?”
“That is not my job. There did not appear to be anything illegal; I am obviously aware that is exacdy what you are trying to imply. All 1 know is Mrs. Brandon was left this fortune, I believe, by a Mr. Collingwood. As I have said, I did not meet him, but he did very early on make contact with me. He basically left everything to Julia and me to deal with.”
“You say you are not on social terms with Mrs. Brandon?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Then why did she contact you, before anyone else, to be with her at the mortuary to identify her husband, the late Mr. Frank Brandon?”
He shrugged.
“She appeared to be very dependent on you, and you were very protective of her.”
“Under the circumstances, that is understandable; her husband had just been murdered.”
“You also arranged a substantial life insurance policy for Mr. Brandon.”
“Yes,” he hissed angrily.
“Why did you do that?”
“I also arrange her house insurance and pay her household bills, so therefore it would only be natural that she would approach me with regard to her husband. Again, this was all done in the proper manner, with medical tests, et cetera.”
“But why would she want her husband to have such a large life insurance policy?”
“It may appear to be a large amount to you, but it isn’t. Her children also have life insurance policies, as does she.”
“Her children?”
“Mrs. Brandon travels a lot; they all have medical insurance. This really is a waste of my time. I truthfully cannot understand why you want to know about my client’s insurance policies.”
“Because her husband was murdered.”
“And Mrs. Brandon had nothing whatsoever to do with that tragic event.”
“What is she afraid of?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I said, what is Mrs. Brandon afraid of?”
“I really couldn’t say, but if her husband was murdered, perhaps she is fearful for herself and her daughters.”
“Mr. Brandon was working as a chauffeur when they met.”
“I believe so.”
“He was also acting as a bodyguard?”
“I believe so.”
“Why do you think she required a bodyguard?”
Rushton sighed. “She has a lot of money, she has valuable jewelry, she is a careful lady and very protective of her family. In this day and
age, I can’t really see that it is unusual—far from it. The fact that Julia then married Mr. Brandon is her private business.”
“Not approved by you?”
“I never said that. I had only one meeting with him and he seemed a very pleasant man, very caring.”
“Did you meet her sister?” “No.”
“Her sister’s husband. Professor Damien Nolan?”
“No—my relationship with Mrs. Brandon was, as I have stated, purely a business one.”
“Had she recently asked for any of her monies to be released?”
For the first time, she saw a flicker of hesitation. “Mrs. Brandon’s finances arc carefully constructed. To take out any lump sum—any large amount—would take time.”
“Did she ask for any large sums?”
Again, there was hesitation. Eventually, he conceded that Julia had asked him to release some money. He explained that he had warned her that she would lose a considerable amount by withdrawing money from the companies.
“How much?”
He was uneasy, loosening his tie. “I advised her not to do so.”
Anna had taken enough of the pompous man’s attitude and she leaned forward. “Mr. Rushton. you know I can get this information and I could also get a warrant…”
“That won’t be necessary,” he said immediately. Picking up the phone, he asked for Mrs. Brandon’s file to be brought in. He then went to a water fountain and poured himself a small cup of water.
Anna could see he was sweating. One of the blondes she had seen pass in the reception area tapped and entered, carrying a file; she put it down on his desk.
He waited until she had left before he opened it.” As I said, I advised Mrs. Brandon against withdrawing any monies, particularly as I have spent many years building up her profile so she would live comfortably off her substantial investments.”
Anna waited as he sifted through the file and eventually withdrew two sheets of paper. He put on his glasses and read through the information. “Mrs. Brandon requested two substantial withdrawals. The first was nine months ago.”
“How much?”
“Four million.”
Anna sat back, stunned. “The next?” she asked quietly.
“Six months ago, she requested a further two million. I was unable to complete the transaction.”
“Why?”
“It was actually a mutual decision.”
“Did she say why she needed this amount of money?”
“No. she did not.”
“Didn’t you ask her? It’s a lot of money.”
“I obviously said that it was not advisable, as I have explained, and she then agreed with me.”
Anna leaned back in her chair, trying to calculate the time frame of when Julia married Frank Brandon. It added up: she was married to Frank around the time of the second request for money.
“So when she agreed not to go ahead with the next withdrawal, did she seem worried? I mean, are you saying she never explained to you why she would want so much money released? I presume it was cash?”
“Yes, cash, but she did not disclose to me why she needed the money. I don’t recall her being worried, though.”
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