“My wife is out,” Sam said equally casually. Clare hadn’t mentioned that this son of a bitch looked like the hero of a spaghetti western.
The two men stared at each other in silence, like dogs, stiff-legged, sniffing each other before a fight.
So this was why Clare hadn’t phoned him as usual yesterday evening, David thought. When he’d rung her, the line had always been engaged. The big man with dark curly hair and his shirtsleeves rolled up over muscular arms was more of a charmer than David had expected. He was friendly, easy to talk to.
If you’re David, why don’t you get the hell out of he re?” Sam said, making the situation clear. He added, “If you want to see my wife, come back another day. There’s a lot going on here.” Sam knew that, without Romeo hanging around, he could operate much more effectively on Clare.
1940 d better get the bastard out before she returned.
““As I came to see Clare, I’ll wait till she gets back.” JUVid had phoned late that afternoon to find out why he hadn’t heard from Clare; Josh answered and, totally overexcited by the presence of so many relatives, explained that his daddy had arrived. David had come to see what was going on.
Sam said, “Clare and I have a lot to talk about. You’re in the way.” He took an aggressive step towards David, who did not retreat.
“I’ll wait for Clare,” David repeated.
“If Clare wants me o leave, then she can say so.”
They both heard Josh yell from the bathroom, “Dad, where’s the mop!”
“I’ll be up in a minute, son,” Sam yelled back. To David he said, “I want you out of here, now!, From the darkness outside, both men heard the garden gate wheeze open and the asthmatic twang of a bicycle bell.
Whistling, Clare opened the back door to the kitchen to find Sam and David now staring at each other with the alert, focused, intent expression of two wrestlers about to pounce.
“David! What’s happened.?”
Clare exclaimed.
“Nothing yet,” Sam said, not taking his eyes off David.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” said David without taking his eyes off Sam.
“Because it’s none of your god daran business!” Sam roared.
“Because I didn’t expect him,” Clare said.
“I tried to ring you this morning, but you were out.”
“Does this guy have to stay?” Sam asked.
“Do you want me to go, ClareT David asked, equally truculent.
“Stop it, both of you!” Clare ordered.
“You’re behaving like five-year-olds.”
“Get the hell out of here,” Sam growled to David.
“You’re in the way. There’s no reason for you to stay.”
“Yes there is. I want to marry Clare,” David said.
“You’ve never once said So!” Clare cried.
“Clare happens to be married already.” Sam glared.
Josh appeared, naked and dripping, in the doorway from the hall. He took no notice of David or Clare but, hero worship imprinted on his face, ran straight to Sam, who swung him up in his arms and hugged him.
“You haven’t finished my barf.” Josh gave Sam a sloppy kiss.
“Well, will you?” David asked Clare.
“Marry me, I meanT Hesitantly Clare looked from one man to the other.
THURSDAY, 30 JANUARY 1969
After a restless night, Elinor woke early. Buzz made her a cup of tea and provided a cheerful stream of gossip about her cruise with Bertha Higby.
Then Elinor asked how things were at Saracen. Buzz hesitated. Elinor whispered, “What’s happened?” Eventually Buzz said, “That Adam, he sold it.”
“Sold my home?”
“Someone had to tell you sometime, Nell.” Elinor said nothing, but two tears rolled down her cheeks. Finally she whispered, “What’s happened to the sta ffT “Oh, they were well looked after, that I will say! I don’t know what’s happened to ‘em all, because I ain’t been back yet.”
“At least we’re all together again,” Elinor murmured.
“That’s the most important thing.” Buzz comforted her for the next two hours, answering Elinor’s halting questions about events of the past year. When it was nearly time for Clare to appear with the breakfast tray, Elinor dried her eyes and tried to look cheerful.
When a smiling Clare arrived, she said, “Annabel and Miranda have gone to London for the day, on business.”
“Is it about Adam?”
“Yes.”
“He’s stolen my money, hasn’t he?” “Don’t you tell her no lies,” Buzz said.
Hesitantly Clare replied, “It might not all have gone. We don’t know yet. But even if it has disappeared, you’ll still have an income from future book sales.” if I get any of the money back, I want it divided equally between the five of us,” Elinor said weakly.
“I should have done that in the-first place.”
At about the same time, Dr. Craig-Dunlop, wearing a Paisley silk dressing gown and pyjamas, left the stateroom and reported to the radio room, where he -was shown how to use the receiver.
The little doctor’s black-fringed eyes widened as he listened to the faint but agitated voice of Sister Parks, his deputy matron.
“Calm down, Sister Parks,” he said when he could get a word in.
“If I understand correctly, some relatives of Mrs. O’Dare have removed her from the nursing home, but you do not know whether or not this was with her consent. It ‘s certainly without our consent, and we therefore cannot be responsible for what happens to Mrs. O’Dare. That is our official attitude, Sister Parks.” His calm, firm voice obviously reassured her, for she seemed less agitated.
“Has Mr. Grant been informed? No? Splendid! As Mrs. O’Dare has been removed by her own relatives, who produced proof of their identity before they did so, I can see no reason to inform Mr. Grant until I return … Yes, naturally I’ll come back straight away.” He thought swiftly. The cruise ship was due to arrive in Jamaica on Friday afternoon, in some thirty hours. God knows how long it would take him to get back to England from Kingston. He might have to hang around until he could get a seat on a plane to New York. There he might have a further long wait: Rights to London didn’t leave every five minutes. He said, “I’ll get back as soon as I can, Sister Parks, but my arrival depends on connections and vail ability of seats. I won’t be there for at least two days Probably longer. I suspect the earliest you’ll see me is Sunday evening … Yes, the second of February.” When Sister Parks had brought him fully up to date, the doctor concluded, “As for Matron Braddock, she did the most extraordinary thing. Completely cleared out her room, went off in a taxi, without a word to anyone, and she left with a broken arm. Perhaps Matron Braddock also had slight concussion after her unfortunate fall. Perhaps officially we had better say that Matron is taking a long overdue holiday and that we expect her return at the end of the month. There is no need to say more than that to anyone.” He gave a little cough.
“Because of Mrs. O’Dare’s not or-‘icty, you may hear from newspaper snoopers. Do not speak to strangers, Sister Parks. Tell Patricia to be very careful when she answers my telephone. Give no information to anyone about Mrs. O’Dare, except for my lawyer. I think it wise to inform him of this exasperating incident as soon as possible, and I’d appreciate it if you would give him the details. Now Fwant to speak to Orderly Gibson … Wen,get him!” The doctor started to bite his left thumbnail.
After an aggrieved speech from the orderly, the doctor “placated him.
“What impudence! It sounds as if you were unduly provoked, Gibson. We will consult my lawyer as soon as I return, regarding assault and libel and slander … Yes, I promise you. In the meantime, I don’t think you’ should go to the police, or speak to anyone else. After all, we mustn’t libel or slander anyone. I know that I can rely on your support in this highly embarrassing situation. Do you agree?”
There was silence at the other end of the radiophone.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” the doctor said wearily. Silence.
“You’ll have a job for life, Gibson.”
“Can I have that in writing?” asked the white-coated orderly.
Like many of the legal offices in Lincoln’s Inn, that of William Owen, financial specialist lawyer, looked like an overworked headmaster’s study. The lawyer sat behind a desk piled high with papers and red box files. He was a bulky man with sallow skin and frizzy grey hair. Next to him sat his consultant accountant, Richard Fraser, who specialized in fraud; he had the pink cheeks and solemn young face of a well-scrubbed choirboy.
Sitting opposite the desk between Annabel and Sam, Miranda felt very tired; her head ached.
Mr. Owen said, “From what you tell me, there are three distinct areas of complaint. Firstly, the seemingly unnecessary detention of your grandmother in the nursing home. Secondly, the possible embezzlement of monies from the trust.” Thirdly, the possible purchase of SUPPLY KITS shares by persons at present unknown, upon Adam Grant’s instructions, with money that may not rightfully belong to the purchaser but to the Dove Trust.” “Can our grandmother sue the nursing ho meT Annabel asked.
Mr. Owen lifted his eyebrows and peered over his spectacles. He did not look optimistic.
“Even before I know the full facts, I can tell you that it might take ten years of arduous legal work to be able to reclaim a relatively small amount of money. I probably won’t advise such a waste of time and energy.”
“What about any embezzlement from the trust?” Miranda asked.
“Surely the trustees must account for all funds?” Annabel added.
Miranda shook her head.
“STG warned me that Adam and Paul Littlejohn are probably acting within the law and, if that’s so, nobody has any power legally to query e actions of the trust.”
“But why doesn’t Adam have to answer our question sT Annabel said.
“He organized the trust.”
“If Adam Grant is unwilling to give you information,” Mr. Owen replied, “you may, as trust beneficiaries, decide to go to court to seek information about the trust. But to force the information from him through the courts would take a long time.” Richard Fraser leaned forward.
“From what you say, it sounds as if this operation was carefully planned, years ago. If so, the money will be accounted for on paper by scurrilous documentation investments in companies that fail or shares that drop like stones. We’ll be able to trace where each sum went when it left the Dove Trust bank accounts. But if fraud is involved, that cash will have quickly been transferred again to numbered Swiss bank accounts that are untraceable.” William Owen looked over his half-glasses.
“Adam Grant is probably the only person who knows where that money is. Undoubtedly, he keeps some written record of what’s happening to it because nobody can keep track of vast sums of money and complicated bank transfers without some record. But I expect his summary is carefully hidden. He probably keeps it in a small unobtrusive notebook something that he could either carry around with him or leave in a small safe. If you could get your hands on it, then we could go to the police but it’s no use going to them without such evidence. Though I do advise you to contact the authorities now, so that they can act immediately should you find any hard evidence.”
“Then all we have to do is find that summary?” Annabel asked.
Miranda snapped, “Adam’s hardly likely to hand it to us on a plate.”
Richard Fraser took the two sisters and Sam to a modern building near Victoria the fraud squad base where he introduced them to Detective Inspector Walter Piper; in a navy pin-striped suit and expensive pale blue shirt, he looked more like a young trainee banker than a policeman. He took notes as Miranda told her story. When she had finished, the inspector said, “From what you say, and adding a few guesses based on my experience, we’re looking at this sort of situation.” Carefully he summarized, “In July 1965, STG set up an offshore Bermuda trust, administered by their associate accountants in Bermuda. The protector of the trust was Paul Littlejohn, a partner of STG. At the same time, Elinor O’Dare signed a general power of attorney in favour of Adam Grant of STG, to be used in event of her illness.
“Unlike Paul Littlejohn, a South African subject living in Bermuda, Grant was based in Britain, subject to British law. So in August 1966, he persuaded Mrs. O’Dare to substitute Paul Littlejohn for himself in the power of attorney held by Grant. Probably a clause in the transfer deed stated that the power of attorney was subject to the law of Bermuda and not British law.
“Mrs. O’Dare also signed papers absolving Adam Grant and STG from any further responsibility for Mrs. O’Dare’s affairs.
“In March 1967, Grant left STG to start his own firm. Elinor O’Dare transferred her business from STG to Grant’s new office. In February 1968, Paul Littlejohn who is probably Grant’s accomplice left STG to set up his own firm in Bermuda, to which he transferred the Dove Trust. As the protector, Littlejohn had the power to remove existing trustees and appoint other trustees.
“By February 1968, Mrs. O’Dare had started treatment for paranoia in the Lord Willington Nursing Home. Paul Littlejohn was therefore able to use his power of attorney t’,.strip her of her personal fortune, including a chfiteau in . o f4ance. At this point, those two villains would have been able simply to siphon off all funds. Paul Littlejohn controlled the Dove Trust, as well as Mrs. O’Dare’s personal fortune, but Adam Grant probably controlled Littlejohn.
“It also appears that Adam Grant, a director of S UPPLYKITS, has acquired control of forty-six per cent of the shares of that company, possibly using funds from the Dove Trust. We’ll be able to trace back the recent purchases, and if they were paid for with money from the Dove Trust, then those shares rightly belong to the trust. If other trust money has disappeared, then the trust might also claim the shares that rightly belong to Grant.” When Inspector Piper was finished, Miranda asked, “Where do we start?” “Contact Mrs. O’Dare’s literary agent, to ensure that no further royalties are forwarded to the Dove Trust until it has been investigated. You can’t do anything else until you have proof of illegality.”
“Can we prosecute?” “You can’t prosecute unless you find some hard evidence, because in 1966, when your grandmother signed the trust deeds, she also signed papers saying that she no longer wished Adam Grant or STG to handle her affairs and absolved both parties from any future responsibility for her affairs. She also voluntarily signed her application to enter his nursing home. So where’s the crinieT The inspector shrugged his shoulders.