And Thereby Hangs a Tale (4 page)

The last time Albert had heard a voice like that
was when he was serving in the army.

'Good morning, sir,' he said nervously. 'I
was hoping you might be able to help me.'

'I certainly will if I can, Mr Webber,'
replied the courtier.

'Three years ago I celebrated my hundredth birthday,'
said Albert, returning to his well-rehearsed script.

'Many congratulations,' said Cranshaw.

'Thank you, sir,' said Albert, 'but that isn't
the reason why I'm calling. You see, on that occasion Her Majesty the Queen was
kind enough to send me a telegram, which is now framed on the wall in front of
me, and which I will treasure for the rest of my life.'

'How kind of you to say so, Mr Webber.'

'But I wondered,' said Albert, gaining in
confidence, 'if Her Majesty still sends telegrams when people reach their hundredth
birthday?'

'She most certainly does,' replied Cranshaw.

'I know that it gives Her Majesty great
pleasure to continue the tradition, despite the fact that so many more people
now attain that magnificent milestone.'

'Oh, that is most gratifying to hear, Mr
Cran-heigearat ma heaheigearashaw,' said Albert, 'because my dear wife
celebrated her hundredth birthday some two weeks ago, but sadly has not yet
received a telegram from the Queen.'

'I am sorry to hear that, Mr Webber,' said
the courtier. 'It must be an administrative over-sight on our part. Please allow
me to check.

What is your wife's full name?'

'Elizabeth Violet Webber, née Braithwaite,' said
Albert with pride.

'Just give me a moment, Mr Webber,' said Cranshaw,
'while I check our records.'

This time Albert had to wait a little longer
before Mr Cranshaw came back on the line. 'I am sorry to have kept you waiting,
Mr Webber, but you'll be pleased to learn that we have traced your wife's
telegram.'

'Oh, I'm so glad,' said Albert. 'May I ask when
she can expect to receive it?'

There was a moment's hesitation before the courtier
said, 'Her Majesty sent a telegram to your wife to congratulate her on reaching
her hundredth birthday some five years ago.'

Albert heard a car door slam, and moments later
a key turned in the lock. He quickly put the phone down, and smiled.

I
WAS AT LORD'S for the first day of the
Second Test against Australia when Alan Penfold sat down beside me and
introduced himself.

'How many people tell you they've got a
story in them?' he asked.

I gave him a closer look before I replied.
He must have been around fifty years old, slim and tanned. He looked fit, the
kind of man who goes on playing his chosen sport long after he's past his peak,
and as I write this story, I recall that his handshake was remarkably firm.

'Two, sometimes three a week,' I told him.

'And how many of those stories make it into one
of your books?'

'If I'm lucky, one in twenty, but more
likely one in thirty.'

'Well, let's see if I can beat the odds,'
said Penfold as the players left the field for tea.

'In my profession,' he began, 'you never
forget your first case.'

Alan Penfold put the phone gently back on the
hook, hoping he hadn't woken his wife.

She stirred when he slipped stealthily out
of bed and began to dress in yesterday's clothes, as he didn't want to
put the light on.

'And where do you think you're going at this
time in the morning?' she demanded.

'Romford,' he replied.

Anne tried to focus on the digital clock on her
side of the bed.

'At ten past eight on a Sunday morning?' she
said with a groan.

Alan leaned over and kissed her on the
forehead. 'Go back to sleep, I'll tell you all about it over lunch.' He quickly
left the room before she could question him any further.

Even though it was a Sunday morning, he calculated
that it would take him about an hour to get to Romford. At least he could use
the time to think about the phone conversation he'd just had with the duty
reports officer.

Alan had joined Redfern & Ticehurst as a
trainee actuary soon after he'd qualified as a loss adjuster. Although he'd
been with the firm for over two years, the partners were such a conservative
bunch that this was the first time they'd allowed him to cover a case without
his supervisor, Colin Crofts.

Colin had taught him a lot during the past two
years, and it was one of his comments, oft repeated, that sprang to Alan's mind
as he headed along the A12 towards Romford:

'You never forget your first case.'

All the reports officer had told him over
the phone were the basic facts. A warehouse in Romford had caught fire during
the night and by the time the local brigade had arrived, there wasn't a lot
that could be done other than to dampen down the embers. Old buildings like
that often go up like a tinder-box, the reports officer said matter-of-factly.

The policy holders, Lomax Shoes (Import and
Export) Ltd, had two insurance policies, one for the building, and the other
for its contents, each of them for approximately two million pounds. The
reports officer didn't consider it to be a complicated assignment, which was probably
why he allowed Alan to cover the case without his supervisor.

Even before he reached Romford, Alan could see
where the site must be. A plume of black smoke was hovering above what was left
of the hundred-year-old company. He parked in a side street, exchanged his
shoes for a pair of Wellington boots and headed towards the smouldering remains
of Lomax Shoes (Import and Export) Ltd. The smoke was beginning to disperse,
the wind blowing it in the direction of the east coast. Alan walked slowly,
because Colin had taught him that it was important to take in first
impressions.

When he reached the site, there was no sign of
any activity other than a fire crew who were packing up and preparing to return
to brigade headquarters. Alan tried to avoid the puddles of sooty water as he
made his way across to the engine. He introduced himself to the duty officer.

'So where's Colin?' the man asked.

'He's on holiday,' Alan replied.

'That figures. I can't remember when I last saw
him on a Sunday morning. And he usually waits for my report before he visits
the site.'

'I know,' said Alan. 'But this is my first
case, and I was hoping to have it wrapped up before Colin comes back from his
holiday.'

'You never forget your first case,' said the
fire officer as he climbed up into the cab. 'Mind you, this one's unlikely to
make any headlines, other than in the Romford Recorder. I certainly won't be
recommending a police inquiry.'

'So there's no suggestion of arson?' said
Alan.

'No, none of the usual tell-tale signs to
indicate that,' said the officer. 'I'm betting the cause of the fire will turn
out to be faulty wir-ing. Frankly, the whole electrical system should have been
replaced years ago.' He paused and looked back at what remained of the site. 'It
was just fortunate for us that it was an isolated building and the fire broke out
in the middle of the night.'

'Was there anyone on the premises at the time?'

'No, Lomax sacked the night watchman about a
year ago. Just another victim of the recession. It will all be in my report.'

'Thanks,' said Alan. 'I don't suppose you've
seen any sign of the rep from the insurance company?' he asked as the fire
chief slammed his door closed.

'If I know Bill Hadman, he'll be setting up
his office in the nearest pub. Try the King's Arms on Napier Road.'

Alan spent the next hour walking around the waterlogged
site searching for any clue that might prove the fire chief wrong. He wasn't able
to find anything, but he couldn't help feeling that something wasn't right. To
start with, where was Mr Lomax, the owner, whose business had just gone up in
smoke?

And why wasn't the insurance agent anywhere
to be seen, when he was going to have to pay out four million pounds of his company's
money? Whenever things didn't add up, Colin always used to say, 'It's often not
what you do see that matters, but what you don't see.'

After another half-hour of not being able to
work out what it was he couldn't see, Alan decided to take the fire chief 's
advice and headed for the nearest pub.

When he walked into the King's Arms just before
eleven, there were only two customers seated at the bar, and one of them was clearly
holding court.

'Good morning, young man,' said Bill Hadman.
'Come and join us. By the way, this is Des Lomax. I'm trying to help him drown
his sorrows.'

'It's a bit early for me,' said Alan after
shaking hands with both men, 'but as I didn't have any breakfast this morning,
I'll settle for an orange juice.'

'It's unusual to see someone from your
office on site this early.'

'Colin's on holiday and it's my first case.'

'You never forget your first case,' sighed Hadman,
'but I fear this one won't be something to excite your grandchildren with.

My company has insured the Lomax family from
the day they first opened shop in 1892, and the few claims they've made over
the years have never raised an eyebrow at head office, which is more than I can
say for some of my other clients.'

'Mr Lomax,' said Alan, 'can I say how sorry
I am that we have to meet in such distressing circumstances?' That was always
Colin's opening line, and Alan added, 'It must be heartbreaking to lose your
family business after so many years.' He watched Lomax carefully to see how he
would react.

'I'll just have to learn to live with it,
won't I?' said Lomax, who didn't look at all heartbroken. In fact, he appeared
remarkably relaxed for someone who'd just lost his livelihood but had still
found the time to shave that morning.

'No need for you to hang around, old fellow,'
said Hadman. 'I'll have my report on your desk by Wednesday, Thursday at the
latest, and then the bargaining can begin.'

'Can't see why there should be any need for bargaining,'
snapped Lomax. 'My policy is fully paid up, and as the world can see, I've lost
everything.'

'Except for the tiny matter of insurance policies
totalling around four million pounds,' said Alan after he'd drained his orange
juice. Neither Lomax nor Hadman commented as he placed his empty glass on the
bar. He shook hands with them both again and left without another word.

'Something isn't right,' Alan said out loud
as he walked slowly back to the site. What made it worse was that he had a
feeling Colin would have spotted it by now. He briefly considered paying a
visit to the local police station, but if the fire officer and the insurance representative
weren't showing any concern, there wasn't much chance of the police opening an
inquiry. Alan could hear the chief inspector saying, 'I've got enough real
crimes to solve without having to follow up one of your 'something doesn't feel
right' hunches.'

As Alan climbed behind the wheel of his car,
he repeated, 'Something isn't right.'

Alan arrived back in Fulham just in time for
lunch.

Anne didn't seem particularly interested in
how he'd spent his Sunday morning, until he mentioned the word shoes.

She then began to ask him lots of questions,
one of which gave him an idea.

At nine o'clock the following morning, Alan was
standing outside the claim manager's office. 'No, I haven't read your report,'
Roy Kerslake said, even before Alan had sat down.

'That might be because I haven't written it yet,'
said Alan with a grin. 'But then, I'm not expecting to get a copy of the fire
report or the insurance evaluation before the end of the week.'

'Then why are you wasting my time?' asked Kerslake,
not looking up from behind a foothigh pile of files.

'I'm not convinced the Lomax case is quite
as straightforward as everyone on the ground seems to think it is.'

'Have you got anything more substantial to go
on other than a gut feeling?'

'Don't let's forget my vast experience,'
said Alan.

'So what do you expect me to do about it?' asked
Kerslake, ignoring the sarcasm.

'There isn't a great deal I can do before
the written reports land on my desk, but I was thinking of carrying out a
little research of my own.'

'I smell a request for expenses,' said Kerslake,
looking up for the first time. 'You'll need to justify them before I'll
consider parting with a penny.'

Alan told him in great detail what he had in
mind, which resulted in the claims manager putting his pen down.

'I will not advance you a penny until you come
up with something more than a gut feeling by the next time I see you. Now go away
and let me get on with my job... By the way,' he said as Alan opened the door, 'if
I remember correctly, this is your first time flying solo?'