“Did she at any time say to you that the fortune she had when she came to you as a client was not actually hers?”
“No, of course not.”
“But would it be possible that the sums she had accrued did not actually belong to her, but were someone else’s? That she may have just been looking after them?”
“She did not at any time give me reason to believe that her money was not left to her by her ex-partner. She simply said that it was to take care of her and her children.” “But when she first came to see you, she did not have children!”
She’d got him again; he loosened his tie as if it was throttling him. “It was obviously after her relationship with her partner had broken down and she was very distressed about it.”
“How much of Mrs. Brandon’s money was in cash when she first approached you, Mr. Rushton?”
He swallowed. After a beat, he said he recalled that there was a considerable amount in cash, but he could not recall the exact sum.
By now, Anna had heard enough to gain a warrant for access to Julia Brandon’s accounts and business dealings. Mr. Rushton knew he could be in a shedload of trouble; he was a very different man ushering her out. He was sweating and exceedingly nervous, repeating that he had never done anything illegal and if necessary he could prove it.
“I am sure you can, Mr. Rushton. Thank you so much for your time.”
Anna was buzzing as she collected her car from a meter a short distance away from Rushton’s office. It was after eleven, but she decided she would drive straight to Julia Brandon’s home in Wimbledon. Phil had spent two hours with the Drug Squad, sifting through all the known dealers arrested from the Chalk Farm area. They were mostly young kids. They had on record a previous bust of the squats over a year ago. Phil had to tread on eggshells as he questioned the squad about how the squat, even after a bust, was still active when the murder had occurred. He was told that they no sooner cleaned up a squat on the estate and boarded up the flat, than within weeks another group had set up dealing. The empty high-rise blocks earmarked for demolition were anathema to the squad. They thought that the area had been used by heavy dealers of heroin and cocaine, but they could not be certain.The flood of class-A drugs coming onto the streets was a constant nightmare. Phil asked if any of them had ever come into contact with, or knew, the infamous Alexander Fitzpatrick. He virtually got a repetition of his own feelings. The Drug Squad knew of Fitzpatrick, but queried why such a kingpin would bother with a smalltime drug squat. They doubted he would have been there, and doubted that he was even in the country. Rumor had it that Fifepatrick had upped his drug trafficking in the U.S. and was stashing millions, working with cartels in Colombia—that was, if he was still active. They doubted it: he was still on the USA’s Most Wanted list. More than likely, Fitzpatrick was sunbathing on some glamorous yacht in Barbados. As he would be around sixty odd, he might have retired from the high life. They wondered if he was living in Spain, or even the Philippines. There had been no sighting of him for over twenty years. They also knew the man had numerous aliases, and more properties than even he could probably count. Phil left as they started swapping stories about the audacious Fitzpatrick.
Although it was of some concern to the Drug Squad, it was generally agreed, with some resignation, that Fitzpatrick had got away with it. Julia Brandon was none too pleased to see Anna. She was just entering her house as Anna drew up. This was good, as it meant that Rushton might not have been able to contact her. She waited at her front door as Anna parked behind her Mercedes in her drive. Anna followed her inside and helped her carry some of the groceries. “Mai Ling is picking Emily and Kathy up for me, so I had to do the shopping.” Julia dumped the bags down on the kitchen counter. “Do you want anything to drink?” “No, just a few minutes of your time.” Julia walked past Anna back down the hall. Anna saw her lock the front door and switch on the alarm, before she returned to the kitchen. Anna also saw her checking the back door, and then she made herself a cup of mint tea. Julia carried her tea into the drawing room and gestured for Anna to sit down. “What is it now?”
“I want to clear up a few things.”
“They still haven’t released Frank’s body for his funeral.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, so am I.” Her foot was twitching as she sat perched on a hard-backed chair.
Anna opened her briefcase and took out her notebook. Julia was sipping her tea, but her foot kept on twitching.
“I met your sister.”
Julia suddenly got up and put her tea down.
“I went to her farmhouse.”
Julia looked away. “We don’t get along. I hardly ever see her. I think she is envious about the kids. She can’t have any, so maybe that’s why she’s always so difficult.”
“I liked her.”
“Yes, everyone does.”
There was a pause as Anna searched for a pencil.
“Why did you go to see Honour?”
“Just making inquiries.”
“About Frank? She never met him.”
“I know, but I was there just to check over a few things.”
“Like what?”
“Did your partner own a boat?”
Julia blinked and then nodded her head.
“Did you know the name of it?”
“No. I always get seasick on boats, so I only ever went on it once.”
“Where?”
“It was anchored in Cannes. His crew used to take it wherever he wanted it but, like I said, I get seasick, and with two small children, I don’t like the risks.”
“Did your sister ever go on it?”
“No.”
“How about your brother-in-law?”
“Well, if Honour never went on it, I doubt Damien would; they’re joined at the hip. It was he, you know, who made her change the way she spelled her name. It used to be just Honor, with no u in it, but then she started spelling it with one, as in ‘honour thy husband’ shit.”
“I saw a painting of a boat at her farmhouse.”
Julia shrugged.
“So I just wondered if perhaps they had been on the boat—maybe when you weren’t around?”
“I doubt it.”
“But why paint a boat?”
“I have no idea. She paints all sorts of things—cows, hens, sheep, fields .. .Why are you asking me about my sister?”
“Just checking out a few things.”
“Like what?”
“Really, it’s connected to you. You see, we are trying to trace your ex-partner.”
Julia stood up. “Why?”
“Because it’s part of our inquiry.”
“But he has nothing to do with Frank or me! I just don’t understand.”
“Well, we don’t understand quite a few things either,Julia.”
“This is ridiculous. My relationship was over years ago—not that I can see why it has anything to do with Frank.”
“Would he have been jealous?”
“Of what?”
“Your relationship with Frank.”
“I have told you, it was over many years ago. The last time you were here you were asking me about him. I explained then he left me, it broke my heart.”
“He left you very well provided for, though, didn’t he?”
Julia pressed her hands down her sides, as if smoothing her tight black skirt. “So what? That is my business.”
“But it could also have been Frank’s; it could be a motive for his murder.”
“No way. They never met.”
Anna watched Julia as she picked up her cup. Her hands were shaking. “Why did you need to liquidate so much money?”
The tea spilled as Julia spun around to face Anna. “What?”
“Why don’t you sit down, Julia. I think you heard what I said, and I need some answers from you.”
Julia moved to sit on the arm of a large easy chair. “I have had a lot of extra expenses because of moving house. I’m shocked that D
avid Rushton has spoken to you about it. It is of no concern to anyone else but myself. What I do with my money is my own business.”
“It was a lot of money and you wanted it in cash.”
“Yes, because it’s still the best way to make deals.You’d be surprised what builders and decorators will accept, and then, of course, there are all the furnishings.”
Anna looked around the room. It was certainly beautifully furnished and the house was very elegant. For a brief moment, she even wondered if it could possibly be the truth. But four million and in cash? The property wasn’t that sumptuous. “So that was what you needed the first withdrawal for. But what about the second?”
“Well, as it turned out, I didn’t need it, so I didn’t bother.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Really? Well, that’s your problem.”
“Do you have one?”
“Do I have one what?”
“A problem. That is a great deal of money. Is someone putting pressure on you? Is that why you needed Frank Brandon to look after you?”
Julia gave a nervous laugh. “I just can’t believe what you are asking. No one is putting any pressure on me to do anything. I loved Frank; that is why we got married.”
“I think you are lying. I am trying to fathom out just why.”
“Well, do tell me what you fathom out, because I am bored and I really don’t have the time to waste.”
The doorbell rang and Julia froze. It rang again twice. She hurried out of the room. The bell sounded again two times in rapid succession, as if it were some kind of a code. Anna heard her letting the children in with their au pair. The girls were rowdy and screeching as they were led to the kitchen for their lunch.
Julia returned. “I feed them at home, as I like to monitor what they eat. Nursery food consists of chicken nuggets and french fries, or fish fingers and french fries, so if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave.”
Anna paid no attention but flicked over a page in her notebook. “Fifteen years ago, you had a small bank balance in an account in Oxford.”
“Jesus Christ, you people make me sick. Just what business is that of yours?
My husband has been murdered and you appear to be incapable of finding out who did it to him. I have given you all the information possible. I have been at all times totally cooperative and willing to speak with you, but this is nothing more than harassment and I won’t stand for it. I would like you to leave.”
“Do you have a forwarding address for your ex-partner Anthony Collingwood?”
“No, I don’t. I told you I have not seen him since he left me.”
“Did the money belong to him?”
“He gave it to me.”
“In cash?”
“Some of it, yes, but mostly in properties and companies.”
“And you don’t have any contact with him?”
“No, I have told you.”
“He must have been a very rich man.”
“He was, and very generous.”
“Do you have a photograph of him?”
“No, I do not. When he left, I tore everything up. He walked out on me.”
“Leaving you a fortune?”
“Yes,” she hissed.
Anna folded her notebook. “Could I see the pictures of your wedding to Frank Brandon?”
“No. I don’t have them anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because I destroyed them; they were too painful.”
Anna gave a soft laugh. “You really are an exceptional liar, Mrs. Brandon. I think you needed Frank to act as a bodyguard. Why you actually married him is confusing; maybe as some kind of extra protection? Because I think your ex-partner wants his money back! Is that true?”
Julia’s mouth was a thin tight line. “Please go away, just leave me alone.”
“If I am correct …”
“You are not!”
“I will go, Mrs. Brandon, but I will keep on returning until I get to the truth.”
“You just try it. 1 am going to call my solicitor and make a formal complaint.You have no right to come to my home and make these accusations. The money I have is mine. No one is threatening me or trying to take it from me. I can look after myself.”
“Frank Brandon was murdered, working for you. Doesn’t that frighten you?”
“It had nothing to do with me. I don’t even know who he was working for.”
“For you, wasn’t he? You benefited from his life insurance policy: that’s half a million.”
“I also paid the premiums. I’ve already told you this, so we are now repeating ourselves.”
Anna took out her card and passed it to Julia. “If you want to talk to me, here’s my direct line.”
Julia tapped the card against her teeth. “I don’t think you will be hearing from me. Detective Travis.”
She stood in the hallway, hands on hips, waiting for Anna to join her. As they reached the front door, she pressed the security codes and unlocked the door.
Anna looked at the lock. “You are certainly taking precautions.”
“I have to. 1 have spent so much of my money on the house, it’s a precaution against burglary.”
Anna smiled and walked out. The door shut so fast behind her it almost clipped her briefcase. She heard the locks being put into place as she went to her car. Bleeping it open, she turned back to look at the house. She was certain Julia was lying. From Rushton she knew that Julia had needed a lot of money: four million. She got into her Mini, tossing her briefcase onto the passenger seat.
She wondered if she was right—whether Julia’s ex-partner needed money, or wanted some of his cash back. But if he was the kingpin drug dealer Alexander Fitzpatrick, surely he already had megamillions? If Anthony Collingwood was Fitzpatrick, which she was presuming, then he must have been in and out of England, forming a relationship with
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Julia. Could he really have been that audacious? Or was she becoming, as Phil had implied, so preoccupied with her own theories that she was losing the plot?
Her mobile rang: it was Gordon. “Can you talk?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Okay, this has taken me all morning.”
“Fire away. 1 presume it’s about the boat?”
“Talk about the ownership being submerged in so many different companies and shareholders.To sell a ship, you have to have a bill of sale. The bill of sale is in a special format and copies are available from the registry. Alexander Fitzpatrick’s first big yacht was sold over twelve years ago to an Italian; the bill of sale was handed over to this guy. Carlo Simonetti. He was the sole owner, and the boat was anchored in Florida. There is a second boat, also from Florida and called Dare Devil, which was owned by five different people.”
Anna closed her eyes, wishing Gordon would get to the point.
“All five are names that had at one time been used by Alexander Fitzpatrick; his name is not on the registry. The boat cost a staggering fourteen million dollars. Joint owners are considered as one party—are you with me?”
“Yes, Gordon, I’m just about keeping up.”
“Okay—and this is the same boat—it has been divided up into twenty-two shareholders. A single shareholder could be at least five people. It’s a plethora of names, which makes it very hard to trace.”
“Where’s the boat now?”
“Well, this was a hard one; it was last docked in the UK at Southampton in 1997, and that took me over an hour to find out. It was also docked in Puerto Banus, Spain, in 1997. I’m still trying to find out more about any ports in the UK.”
“Who was on the boat—do you know?”
Gordon huffed and puffed at the end of the phone. “Well, it was chartered—that is, rented out—and I’m still trying to find out the people who handled it.”
“Go for the crew and see if you can get anything from the Spanish authorities. They would have to have had passports.”
“I’m trying! It’s taken
me all morning to get this far and I have a feeling the boat might have been sold.”
Anna shut off the call. Gordon’s tracking of the boat was yet another possible wild-goose chase but, at the same time, it could also mean that, in 1997, Alexander Fitzpatrick, using any one of his numerous identities, could have been in the UK. Anna started to back out from Julia’s drive. She was forced to brake as a Mercedes-Benz drove up behind her.
Simon Fagan got out and rapped on the window. “Detective Travis, I have already made a complaint regarding the surveillance vehicle positioned outside my client’s premises—”
Anna said that, as far as she knew, it was no longer present.
“But you are harassing my client. I want to know exactly why you are persistently questioning Mrs. Brandon and causing her great distress.”
Anna got out of the Mini to face him. “I have every right, Mr. Fagan. We are still investigating the murder of her husband and certain information has arisen that required me to reinterview Mrs. Brandon.”
“I’d very much like to know what this is.”
“Your client has withdrawn very large sums of money. My concern is that she may possibly have been blackmailed or, if not, this has some connection with the death of her husband.”
Fagan stepped back from the Mini and said aggressively, “If you wish to speak to Mrs. Brandon again, then you will do so in my presence, is that understood?”
Anna shook her head, smiling. “It will then be a formal interview at the station. Mrs. Brandon may of course request you to accompany her.”
Fagan glared and returned to his Mercedes. He backed out into the road to allow Anna to drive past. His presence made Anna even more suspicious; she reckoned that Julia had put a call in to him as soon as she believed Anna had left. Fagan had certainly got to the property fast; she would have liked to have been a fly on the wall to overhear their conversation.
Anna drove into Wimbledon village, parked in a pub car park, and went to get a coffee and a sandwich.
Sitting outside, in front of the pub, she had only just taken a bite when she saw Simon Fagan s Mercedes pass, only a few feet from her. Julia Brandon was in the passenger seat, obviously crying: she had a handkerchief to her face, wiping her eyes. She had shown no emotion while being questioned by Anna, which made her wonder just what the woman had learned from Fagan that had upset her so much. Anna could see the silver Mercedes at the traffic lights. They were waiting as four horses and riders passed, heading toward Wimbledon Common.
Deadly Intent Page 23
