"Now, now, Julia—calm down."That was Fagan.
"Calm down? This stupid girl! After I have gone to so much trouble, this idiot could have jeopardized everything. She has no idea what lengths I have gone to, to protect us!"
"Why don't you tell me why you are so upset?" Fagan continued, asking in a low quiet voice if there was anything he should know.
"I just want these police out of here. I have to bury Frank. You said you were going to arrange it, and now this! I have to have his death certificate, Simon."
"If it's the life insurance you are worried about, that will automatically be paid to you," Fagan said.
"You don't understand!"
"I am trying, Julia, but sometimes I really start to believe that you
have not told me everything. I mean, who is this man that's making you get so hysterical?"
"You don't understand,"Julia repeated.
By this time, Anna was directly outside the door. It was not the argumentative Julia, but the fear in her voice that alerted Anna. It felt like a good opportunity to walk in.
"Mrs. Brandon," she said, "could I please speak with you in private?"
"I have nothing to say. I just want to be left alone."
"If you wish for Mr. Fagan to be with you, that is your choice, but I do need to speak to you."
Julia was twisting a tissue around and around in her hands. She suddenly seemed to deflate, slumping forward in her chair, as if exhausted. Her two children were becoming upset, and went to her side; she clasped the girls to her.
Anna suggested that Mai Ling take the children into the kitchen. Julia remained in the chair, ripping at the tissue, her hands shaking.
"Do you recognize this man?" Anna asked, showing the photograph.
Julia nodded, and then sniffed, tossing her head back. "Yes."
"Could you please give me his name?"
"His name is Anthony Collingwood. He was my partner. You've asked me about him, and I have told you all I know."
"We have been unable to trace him," Anna said, sitting down opposite.
"Well, that's not my problem, is it?"Julia said churlishly.
"What
is
your problem, Mrs. Brandon?"
"I don't understand what you mean."
"Well, you seem very upset and angry that we have obtained this photograph. Can you tell me why?"
Julia closed her eyes. Simon Fagan leaned forward. "Julia, do you want to talk to me in private?" he asked.
"No. Just go away and leave me alone! You haven't been any help to me at all."
Fagan was nonplussed; he looked to Anna and back to Julia. "Should I stay? Julia, do you want me to stay?"
"I don't fucking care anymore!" She started to sob uncontrollably,
hunching forward in her seat, her arms wrapped around herself. Fagan hesitated, and then walked out.
Anna closed the door behind him. She went to the woman's side and sat on the arm of her chair. "What is it, Julia?"
"I'm so scared. I think he will kill me, kill the children because I won't let him have it, and now it's such a mess."
"Who will kill you?"
"Anthony."
"Why would he want to hurt you and the children?"
"Money," she wept.
Bit by bit, between long pauses and bouts of crying, Julia started to explain the complicated transactions she had done to protect her wealth.
Anna took notes as the jigsaw began to take shape. The more Julia talked, the more relieved she appeared to become, as if, by at last admitting the truth, she would be safe. She was scared that Collingwood would threaten her or take the children; she had already handed him the four million, but he was not satisfied. At no point did she admit that Collingwood and Fitzpatrick were one and the same; she continued to deny ever knowing anyone called Alexander Fitzpatrick.
Phil and his team were still searching the farmhouse and outbuildings, but were coming up empty-handed. They would not know for some time if the computer they had taken would give them any evidence or connection to Fitzpatrick. Honour had sat in the kitchen for hours, but Damien had insisted he go to college for his lecture. Phil had let him leave.
Every time Phil had passed Honour, she had asked the same thing: "What are you looking for?" He said only that they were searching for evidence connected to a murder inquiry. She had proffered tea and coffee to the officers, and then asked if she could do some baking.
Phil was seriously doubting that Fitzpatrick had ever hidden out at the farm. If he had, there was not as yet any incriminating evidence. They had evidence that the Mitsubishi had been driven into the farm's courtyard, but were still merely surmising that Julius D'Anton had
inadvertently come across Fitzpatrick at the farm, drove the Mitsubishi back to London, and then was murdered.
Phil headed up the stairs to join the three officers who were searching over the couple's bedroom and small box room. They gave Phil the thumbs-down. He checked his watch; they had been there nine hours, and all he had to show for it was two scraps of paper.
He turned to walk out, then paused, looking up. "You done the loft?" There was a pull rope attached to an old brass hook, very high up. He stood on tiptoe to release it and jerked it hard. The trapdoor to the loft opened and a ladder unfolded, but then got stuck; he had to reach up and pull it down the last few feet. It didn't look as if anyone had used it for years, but he nevertheless climbed up slowly, step-by-step. He crawled into the loft on his hands and knees, stopped, and asked for assistance.
The far side of the loft had a camp bed, blankets, and pillows. There was an overpowering musty smell, the dust was thick, with cobwebs trailing from every corner. But the area where the camp bed was situated was clean. There were fingerprints in the dust and, beside the camp bed, a jug with a glass, shaving equipment, and a wash bag. When he gingerly eased back the sheet, there were some bloodstains. "I think we might have just got lucky," Phil said quietly.The incident room was buzzing. The search of Julia Brandon's home was over; the search at Honey Farm was still active, and would be continued the following day. Cunningham gathered everyone together for an update. By now, it was half-six in the evening.
Anna was first up, to disclose her findings from the Wimbledon property. There was a murmur of disappointment when she said that, after an extensive search, they had found no evidence that proved Alexander Fitzpatrick was ever there—but she was certain that, using the name Anthony Collingwood, Fitzpatrick had been a very big feature in Julia Brandon's life.
She then opened her notebook and gave a look around at the expectant faces. "This is quite complicated but, I think, a major step in sorting out the Frank Brandon connection."
She went to the board and began writing up the details.
"A young and impressionable Julia Kendal, living in Oxford, meets up with the charismatic Alexander Fitzpatrick, using the alias Anthony Collingwood. This was fifteen years ago. He was in the UK, sorting out business transactions and money laundering; he had a lot of cash. He and Julia began a relationship and moved to London, where he bought a large property in St. John's Wood. He then spent considerable time abroad—sometimes taking her, sometimes not—and began to shift his cash around, using Julia as the innocent; laundering it via bank accounts in her name."
Anna stopped and smiled. "Just how innocent, I couldn't say, but she ends up with accounts worth twenty-odd million, according to her. This he uses when he requires it, and she maintains the front: nice wife, nice house. He even arranges for her to have IVF treatment to produce two kids, since he has fertility problems, and shifts more money into accounts for them. He acquires many offshore accounts and various businesses. By this time Fitzpatrick was wanted by the FBI and the U.S. DEA, so it became more difficult to move around. He lost millions when the BCCI bank crashed, and this is where it all starts to get unpleasant."
Anna continued to explain how Fitzpatrick had poured his liquid assets into a German bank that went big with the remortgage of properties in the U.S., but started to go belly-up two years ago. At the same time, the FBI and the U.S. DEA were closing in on Fitzpatrick, and he lost properties in Florida, the Bahamas, and Los Angeles. He also sold his yacht at the same time.
"Julia saw the high life going downhill fast. Fitzpatrick made visits to the UK as Anthony Collingwood. Each time, he wanted more and more money, and Julia started to freak out that she would end up with nothing. Even more so, when he became abusive toward her. At some point, she found out he had another woman. He said that if she didn't do what he wanted, he would take the children. She felt betrayed and very angry; she repeated over and over that she had really loved him.
"Around this time, Julia used, as a chauffeur, Donny Petrozzo. He introduced her to Frank Brandon. Julia put into motion the salvaging
of what she thought of as
her
fortune. She sold the house in St. John's Wood and bought the Wimbledon property outright. At the same time, with the assistance of her financial adviser, she began moving the money around so that Fitzpatrick could not get his hands on it.
"We have to bring in David Rushton again," Anna insisted. "He has been lying through his teeth. Rushton was paid a fortune to protect the bulk of her cash, and make sure that Fitzpatrick cannot get his hands on it. Now we're coming to the point where Julia hires Frank Brandon to take care of her. She's terrified that, if Collingwood/ Fitzpatrick finds out, he might do something terrible to her and to her children."
Anna could feel the team getting restless; it was a lot to take in, but she pushed on regardless. "Julia maintains that she was never aware of any kind of drug dealing. She believed that her so-called partner was only into property scams; she threatened him that, if he did put pressure on her, she would tip off the Inland Revenue."
There was a general moan, and Anna laughed. "I am just repeating what she told me: she wanted to make sure that Collingwood couldn't touch a cent, so this is where poor Frank comes into it. She now starts to switch accounts into his name, promising to pay him a big sum of money if he agrees to marry her, so they can use that as a cover. No sooner has she got it all organized, with Rushton working his butt off to lock the money down, than Fitzpatrick shows up. Julia claims he did not visit the house, but called her. He had told her he was broke— and not only broke, but pissed off because he couldn't get to his own money! He puts pressure on her to release four million in cash; then disappears, but returns, wanting more. When she refuses, he threatens her and the children. Again, she was adamant that he did not visit the house in Wimbledon, but phoned her."
Anna closed her notebook. "That, she swears, was the last time she heard from him. The next thing that she says happened was the police arriving to say that Frank had been found murdered. She gets her solicitor, Simon Fagan, to hire bodyguards to protect her; she is very frightened, but not enough to run into hiding, because she has to have the death certificate—not only to get Frank's life insurance policy but,
as his widow, get her money returned from the accounts in his name. As I said, it's all very complicated—but that's it!"
She got a round of applause before she gave them the most important breakthrough: their prime suspect had been photographed on the au pair's mobile phone. The pictures had already been processed and she was able to display the two photographs of the man they were now certain was Fitzpatrick, handing his daughter an ice cream. It was not until she had sat down that she noticed Langton had joined them, and was sitting unobtrusively at the back of the room. She glanced toward him, and he gave her a small nod in acknowledgment.
Next up was Phil, who described how, after hours searching the farmhouse, they had discovered the possible hideout used by Fitzpatrick in the loft. They had already sent to forensics the sheets and pillowcases, plus the blankets from the cot bed: there had been a bloodstain, which might prove useful, and many fingerprints from the loft. The two notes he had found were being checked by an expert to see if the handwriting on the note from the Mitsubishi, and on the exam paper, did indeed belong to the same person.
This brought Damien and Honour Nolan into the picture. Honour had seen them checking out the loft, but had said nothing, and did not seem agitated in any way. When Damien had returned, he joked that no one had used the loft for months, apart from a young student. Phil, however, had kept two officers at the farm as security, and requested that neither Honour nor her husband leave the country.
Cunningham, after listening to the reports, said that she wanted to bring in both Honour and Damien for questioning. She also wanted David Rushton, the so-called financial adviser, brought in to clarify exactly what Julia Brandon had hired him to do. Lastly, Julia was to be brought in for further questioning and to make a statement regarding her complex financial transactions.
Cunningham said all this with her usual folded-arm stance. She, more than anyone else, had felt the pressure of the silent Langton. She looked at him, to see if he wanted to say anything, but he shook his head for her to continue.
"We are getting a lot of action, but we still do not have the series of
events that brought about the murder of four men. We know the Drug Squad is still holding our two dealers. They need to be requestioned, especially with the Glock pistol situation: one of them may have killed the car dealer, Stanley Leymore.They might have also shot Frank Brandon, as we have only their word that the shooter was Donny Petrozzo."