A Little Bit on the Side (34 page)

Well at least it’s out in the open now, thought Jack: no more beating around the bush. But he also realised that Marilita had picked up a thing or two about taxes in her time with Noddy. Source: that was the crux of the problem. In every other case he’d worked on, unexplained money could be attached to some other known and taxable source, almost invariably a business, and when he picked up her file he’d assumed it would possibly be disposed of as a little bit of bed and breakfasting on the side. Well in Marilita’s case he’d certainly got the bed: but was she taxable on the proceeds of her activities there: that was the issue.

He thought it best to defer an answer to her question for the moment, and turned instead to the bank statements obtained by Ned Potter.

‘Can I return to your question later Mrs Davenport, and ask you instead to look with me at the transactions on your bank statements which cover the three years to 31
^st
December 1980, concentrating on the last three months.

You will note the frequency and amount of the deposits in that account during those three months. Are you seriously telling me that they are all in respect of your favours to your gentleman friends?’

‘Mr Manning please. I’m flesh and blood, not superhuman. No, of course they aren’t. And “favours” what a sweet old-fashioned expression.’

‘Then where do they come from?’

‘They are in respect of my lady friends.’

Oh Christ thought Jack. Lady friends too; I’m getting out of my depth here, but he had no alternative other than to plough on.

‘You mean you receive payments for favours to ladies as well as gentlemen?’

‘No, of course not. What were you thinking? They are gifts to my lady friends in respect of their favours to their gentleman friends, as you so delicately put it’

She smiled and re-crossed her legs to provide a more generous display of thigh, as though to drive home the strictly heterosexual nature of her activities.

Bloody hell, she’s telling me she’s running a knocking shop, and she sits there smiling sweetly and apparently giving me the come-on. Well if she thinks this is a game, it’s a game two can play, and then we’ll see where we get to. His problem was that his instructions were a bit vague when it came to the taxation of profits from prostitution. It might be the world’s oldest profession, but so far it seemed no one had tried to tax it, or if they had Jack hadn’t heard about it. No case law, so no guidance.

He recalled that the issue had been given a brief airing in the House of Lords some six or seven years earlier, when although their Lordships were reassured that such profits were in principle taxable, the difficulty of finding, assessing and collecting the tax from such ladies was much emphasised. Well it seemed that Jack had perhaps found one, and so from now on he’d just have to wing it, and see what turned up.

He smiled back at his charming adversary.

‘If they are gifts to your lady friends, as you put it, why are they being banked in your personal account?

‘Oh of course: I see what you mean. Well if I tell you that some of the ladies are married, you may perhaps understand that they wouldn’t want to pay those sorts of cheques into their own accounts: too much possibility of embarrassment should a husband notice it. So all the gentlemen understand that if they want to leave a little cheque as a gift to the lady it has to be in my name, and then I give the lady the equivalent in cash.’

Jack considered this for a moment or two.

‘Mrs Davenport, if I understand what you are saying correctly you are telling me that you are running … How can I put this in the least old-fashioned way … you are running a brothel, a bordello. I could think of other ways of saying the same thing, but perhaps those will do.’

‘Oh Mr Manning, how could you, and I thought you were such a nice gentleman.’ She imbued her words with such a grotesquely theatrical air of pathos that Jack, despite his admiration for the game she was playing, found it difficult not to laugh.

‘No, I am not a madam,’ she continued. ‘My house is not a brothel, and our visitors are real Barlow gentlemen, not the boys from Piraeus. You have it all wrong.’

The boys from Piraeus: of course. Mercouri: that was who she looked like. Did she know it, and had she seen the film? No wonder her gentlemen came calling. He allowed himself a momentary vision of Marilita swaying enticingly in front of him, snapping her fingers to that wonderful Greek music, and then reaching out to draw him slowly towards her.

He dragged himself back to the matter in hand.

‘Well if I have it all wrong, please tell me what the truth of the matter is, and put it all right.’

‘I think that might take some time Mr Manning, so do you think I could have some coffee before I begin.’

Jack picked up the phone to ask for some coffee to be brought through, but then was struck with a different thought, and spoke instead to his secretary.

‘Joan. I’m going to be out of the office for a while with Mrs Davenport. Should anyone call, take a message and say I’ll phone them back.’

‘I feel I really can’t subject you to civil service coffee Mrs Davenport, and thought we might perhaps slip up to Bosewell’s. They won’t be busy this early in the morning, and we’ll be able to find a corner to talk quietly.’

Not strictly in accordance with the accepted rules of engagement, thought Jack, but what the hell. Inspectors were always being enjoined to obtain a thorough understanding of the businesses they were examining, and within the bounds of discretion Jack intended to do just that with Mrs Davenport’s activities. He was in any event past the stage in his career where he was concerned how Head Office might respond, and was now more interested in hearing her story for its own sake than for any other reason.

She turned to him as they made their way towards Priory Hill and Bosewell’s.

‘If you wished to, I’d be quite happy if you dropped the Mrs Davenport and called me Marilita.’

‘That’s very kind of you, but I think we ought perhaps to preserve some degree of formality.’

In Bosewell’s they settled themselves into a corner, and after coffee had arrived she began.

‘You must understand to start with Mr Manning that none of this was happening while Maurice was alive. Although he was so much older, he was always very kind and considerate, and I respected that. And of course he introduced me to lots of people in Barlow, where I made, and still have, many friends.

Then, perhaps six months or so after his death, one of his friends, a charming man, shall I call him Mr X, asked me if he could take me to dinner. Afterwards we went back to the house and … Is this what you want to hear Mr Manning?’

‘Well there’s no need to dwell in detail of any of your own early liaisons, I think. I’m more interested to hear about the time when the other lady friends became involved.’

‘I understand. Well Mr X told me that he had a friend who would like to meet me if I had no objection, and one thing led to another so that within about two years, and by personal recommendation, if I can put it that way, I had four or five others calling to see me quite regularly. All of them perfect gentlemen, but not all of them unmarried I have to confess.

Mr Manning, can you please not smile like that. You’re making me blush, and I haven’t done that since I was a teenager.’

‘My apologies, but just tell yourself all this is purely business, nothing more: a bit like a visit to the doctor.’

‘Well, just like Mr X, each of the gentlemen had the custom of leaving me a little something when he left, and as it was sometimes a cheque I had to put it through my bank account.’

Now what would the gentleman’s cheque stub have shown, wondered Jack, and did it go through his business accounts? At least Martindale didn’t charge his whores to the firm: not to my knowledge anyway.

‘And the other ladies?’ he asked.

‘As I said at the office, many ladies get just as much pleasure from sex as gentlemen, and like the gentlemen, they sometimes talk about it, as I did with one of my friends, who was not long divorced. She was a little taken aback at first, but then she called and was introduced to one of the gentlemen. They seemed to like and be very happy with each other. It was spoken of confidentially to other ladies, and now there are five of us including myself.

For one sickening moment Jack thought of Josie, but then realised that this just wasn’t her style. Josie was very much a one-man woman on a medium term basis: until the next special friend came along, that is.

‘Five of you at it … My apologies. Five of you? In a town the size of Barlow? That’s unbelievable.’

‘Look Mr Manning. It’s not a brothel as you seem to be thinking, and it isn’t open nightly. Men can’t just drop in, and the ladies don’t charge. Couples meet by mutual arrangement and understanding, and if the gentlemen wish to leave a little token of appreciation, well that’s fine. But to be frank, all the ladies participate because they enjoy it, and are either divorced or have husbands who aren’t quite as interested in that sort of thing as their wives. And it’s all arranged by word of mouth: by personal recommendation and mutual agreement only, mainly through the Golf Club, Rotary or the ladies’ circles in the town, but very discreetly of course.’

‘You say they leave a little token of appreciation, but looking at the bank statements it seems that some of the gentlemen can be very generous indeed.’

‘The ladies are very attractive and obliging, and some of the gentlemen are not only rich, but extremely grateful that they can be entertained in circumstances that guarantee their pleasure and utter confidentiality.’

‘And how many men?’

‘That’s really very difficult to say. Some are regulars, almost old friends, but others may come and go. And there are quite a few now from beyond Barlow itself

‘And all this sexual activity bubbling away beneath the unruffled, respectable surface of this fine old county town: I am surprised.’

‘Oh come now Mr Manning: surely not. It’s as old as the hills. The Greek gods were always at it, to use your own words. Just think of Zeus. How does that little jingle go: ‘Known to all posterity for amorous dexterity?’ Haven’t you read about wife-swapping and car keys in the fruit bowl?’

He had, of course, but had naively imagined that all that sort of thing took place in the swinging south, not the quiet border counties.

‘And if, as you say it isn’t a brothel, how would you describe it?’

She thought about that for a while.

‘Shall we say a sexual cooperative? I think that would be a fair description.’

Jack found it quite difficult to conceal his admiration for Marilita. She now spoke idiomatic English like a native, and had probably handled their little confrontation better than any advisor that she might have cared to bring with her. He felt sure that at the end of it all there would be little prospect of attaching any liability to tax to her activities or those of her friends. Indeed he had no wish to do so, but the situation was so rich in its possibilities for information and understanding, that he decided he would carry it forward a little further. It was also true that he was now enjoying the experience immensely.

‘Mrs Davenport, as you may have gathered, the purpose of this meeting is for me to establish whether or not the money that you and your friends received for the entertainment you provide to the gentlemen is taxable.’

‘Yes, I had assumed that Mr Manning.’

‘We find that it can sometimes be helpful in reaching a decision if the inspector makes a visit to the premises where the activities in question take place. Do you think that would be possible?’

‘Why certainly Mr Manning, but I have to tell you that I am returning to Greece for six weeks or so very shortly, so I will have to telephone you when I am back to arrange a date and time that will be convenient.’

‘Well thank you very much for your time Mrs Davenport. I look forward to hearing from you again soon.’

Marilita rose with a smile to shake his hand, but retained a firm grip upon it as she spoke.

‘And that will be just a business visit, will it Mr Manning?’

‘Oh yes Mrs Davenport: strictly business.’

‘You’ve been entertaining strange ladies in Bosewell’s they tell me.’

Jack hadn’t been so naive as to believe that his assignation with the beautiful Marilita would go unnoticed and unreported, and in truth he was singularly indifferent whether it was or not. If Josie said nothing, but suspected everything, so much the better: perhaps she wouldn’t take him quite so much for granted. If she asked, well he’d tell her the truth.

‘Yes, I thought they might. Strictly business though. We’d started in the office, but when it came to coffee time I really couldn’t offer her our standard sludge, so we walked up to Bosewell’s. Do you know the lady?’

‘I’ve certainly seen her about town, and I’ve a feeling we may have met at some time in the past, but we don’t seem to move in the same circles.’

When it comes to the men though, you’ve probably got rather more in common than you might suppose, thought Jack.

‘Name of Davenport, and born in Greece. Came over … Oh it must be almost twenty years ago now. She married a local lad from Barton who went on to do well in the accountancy line and eventually moved here. Died young though, and she’s been a widow for six or seven years now. She lives in that handsome old Edwardian place just outside Eastgate. God knows though what she does alone down there with all those rooms.’

He’d thrown in the final comment as a bit of bait to see whether Josie perhaps knew more than she let on. But she didn’t rise to the bait, which seemed to indicate just how discreet and confidential Mrs Davenport’s services were. If Josie had no suspicion what was going on just outside Eastgate few others would.

‘It’s nothing you can tell me about I suppose, your business with the lady.’

‘Wouldn’t do Josie. Priests and taxmen: secrets of the confessional. All that sort of stuff

‘Isn’t it fascinating though: knowing so much about everybody in town?’

‘But I don’t. It’s all mainly finance, accountancy and technical matters: dull routine stuff. It’s in the private lives that you find the smut and all the interesting gossip. Think of us Josie.’