Give The Devil His Due (32 page)

***

Steadman’s place was almost as I remembered it. The difference on this occasion being that our approach was from the west as opposed to Little Venice which was to the east. Neil rang the bell and this time Steadman answered the door. I wondered where Louise was. We went into his study. He seemed more nervous than previously. I suppose that was to be expected, given the reason we were there.

       ‘So, what’s happened exactly then, Peter?’ I asked.

       ‘Well it's been over the past week. I've noticed a blue Volvo parked just a little way down the street. It's there sometimes in the evening, and there's usually someone inside. I know it doesn't belong to any of the neighbours. Mrs Lovett, the old lady who lives in that house, lives alone and hasn't got a car and I know it doesn't belong to anyone else around here.’

       I guessed he probably knew all the vehicles his neighbours owned. There weren't that many houses in the road.

       ‘And the phone calls? Tell us about the phone calls.’

       ‘There's nothing ever said, apart from me answering. Someone's on the other end though, just staying silent.’

       ‘Has Louise had any of these calls?’

       ‘No, only me.’

       ‘Peter, you remember what we asked you at the signing, the thing about not telling anyone?’

       ‘Yes of course I do.’

       ‘Have you told anyone?’

       ‘No.’

       ‘What about Louise?’

       ‘No.’

       ‘So how did you explain our two previous meetings?’

       ‘I lied to her. I told her that the three of you were auditors, investigating a possible fraud at work, hence the need for secrecy. I told her it wasn't me that was under investigation. She lost interest after that.’

       I thought
Not bad; Peter can obviously think on his feet
.

       ‘Look, our main concern is that you don't stress, none of us has broken any laws. If anyone's hanging about outside or making funny phone calls, they're the one who ought to worry.

       ‘Call BT; tell them you're having these nuisance phone calls and that you want to have it put a stop to. They'll tell you to make a note of the time and date of each one and they'll put a trace on the line. My guess is it's probably kids messing about.

       ‘As for the Volvo, next time you see it give the police a ring. Tell them you've noticed a suspicious car hanging about outside Mrs Lovett's house and you're concerned someone may be planning to burgle her. Make sure you tell them she's elderly and lives alone; describe the car to them. They'll send a patrol round and I've no doubt whoever is in the car will get the message loud and clear. You can also ask the police afterwards. I'm sure they'll tell you who it is.’

       I could see Peter was thinking about all of this. As he was doing so, the sound of an almighty row breaking out emanated from another part of the house. Just like before, I could hear two female voices. I was sure it was the same two voices that I'd heard during our first meeting with Peter. This time there were quite a few F-words being thrown into the argument. With Louise's well-to-do accent screeching at hysterical volume the expletives sounded very out-of-place. Peter looked really disturbed.

       ‘Excuse me a minute.’ He went out of the study, closing the door behind him.

       I looked at Neil who just shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Trouble at mill?’ in a bad northern accent.

       ‘Yeah sound’s like. Reminds me of being married. There was always bollocks like that kicking-off.’

       We could now hear Peter's voice booming away. ‘Who the fuck do you think you are upsetting my wife like this?’

       I looked at Neil. ‘Perhaps we've got Peter all wrong. Sounds like there's a bit of life in the old dog.’

       ‘I'm her sister, that's who I think I am, you lifeless prick. Why don't you piss off back under that little stone you crawled out from!’

       Now she'd said she was the sister I could hear it in her voice. The accent wasn't as pronounced as Louise's but there were definite similarities.

       Peter started shouting again. ‘I've got people in the study and you're showing me up. I want you out of here. When I get home from work tomorrow you'd better be gone, you're not fucking welcome any more!’

       I could hear sobbing. It must have been Louise because the sister was still rowing with Peter. A door slammed, and we could hear hurried footsteps. I looked through the study window. A young woman was marching down Peter's drive towards the road. Short peroxide blonde hair, a miniskirt and biker jacket, she looked the complete opposite of the demur Louise who had now increased the volume of the sobbing and was trying to speak through her wailing. We could hear Peter doing his best to comfort her, but not exactly what he was saying.

       ‘What do you make of that then Neil?’ I asked.

       ‘Happy fucking families. Who needs ‘em?’

       ‘Yeah. Blondie had nice legs though.’

       ‘I'm telling Tegan you said that.’

       Before I could threaten Neil with a long walk home, the study door opened and Peter reappeared. As he started apologising for the barney, we could hear someone running upstairs and another door slamming followed by more crying. I guessed it was Louise going from kitchen to bedroom.

       ‘Do either of you want a drink? I'm having one.’ Peter opened a door on the sideboard, grabbed a bottle of gin and a glass. He looked at me awaiting a response.

       ‘Maybe some other time Peter. I'm driving.’

       He looked at Neil.

       ‘I'll give it a miss as well if that's OK Peter.’

       ‘Yes of course, I'm still going to have one though.’

       ‘Go ahead, don't mind us.’ Neil said.

       As he poured himself an unhealthily large measure, he began to open up a little. ‘I don't know what you must think. It's Louise's sister; she's bloody hard work. I've had a guts-full of her. She takes drugs and all sorts.’

       ‘Oh?’ said Neil.

       ‘Yes, she's got hooked up with some fucking waster from New Zealand. Plays guitar in a band.’

       Gavin immediately sprang to mind.

       ‘I've only met him once, but he’s a total zero. We took an instant dislike to each other. I'm sure he's doing heavy stuff.’

       ‘What? Like heroin?’

       ‘Yes, Louise is beside herself with worry, and I don't need this shit right now. I'm ill; got a doctor's appointment in the morning. And the last thing I ought to be doing is
this
,’ he looked at the glass of gin in his hand.

       ‘Peter, try not to stress. Just do what we said earlier and it will all be OK. Phone one of us if you're worried about something.’ He was nodding his head, acknowledging that he would – if he needed to.

       ‘We'll have to go soon, because we've got a long way to drive.’

       ‘I know. Look, thanks for coming. I realise now that I'm probably being a bit over the top, getting in a state. I'll take your advice.’ The gin was obviously calming him down. We had some more small talk with Peter and said our goodbyes. Within half an hour we were back on the M4 and on our way home. As we clipped along at a steady eighty, I asked Neil, ‘What do you think about the car then?’

       ‘What, the Volvo?

       ‘Yeah.’

       ‘I wonder if it might be the boyfriend. He might be the jealous type and think Peter’s banging his girlfriend, especially if he’s a drug user. They can be paranoid as fuck.’

       ‘I was thinking exactly the same thing.’ What if it
was
the boyfriend? Then again it might have been Phil’s mystery visitor. We couldn’t rule out the possibility that it might even be our suggestion of some lowlife burglar wanting to do Mrs Lovett’s house over. Unless there were any developments we’d never find out. I concentrated on the road. I‘d ring Peach over the next few days and let him know how the meet had gone.

Monday 10.30 a.m. South Wales
I relayed Thursday evening’s events to the archivist. He thanked us for going to see Steadman.

       Peach and Vaughan had been having a good clear run on the boat, with very little queuing at most locks, they were ahead of schedule. Phil was now en route to meet up with them. There would be time for Vaughan and Phil to visit Shoreborough as sightseers. Peach would stay put on the boat. Visiting the Mansion house with Vaughan and Phil was too risky; someone might recognise him.

       I’d spoken to Phil on Sunday evening and he’d finished making the transfers that would give the boat her new identity. Modest as usual, he wasn’t backward in coming forward to tell me that he’d made a superb job of it.

       He’d also managed to obtain six two-way radios (one spare) together with charging equipment. He was travelling on the 10 a.m. train to Northampton where Peach would meet him at the station. They would then continue to Rugeley.

       Neil and I would join them at the weekend if everything went to plan. I was to wait for a phone call from Peach sometime Wednesday. He would then let me know if I could go ahead and hire the van. The excitement was starting to build.

Chapter 25

Monday 8.15 p.m. London
Pamela Stokes was at her kitchen table. Using plastic gloves, she stuck the last cut-out newspaper letter to the piece of paper containing the all important message. Pam had made her blackmail demand look like one of the crude efforts she’d seen so many times in films and on TV.

       The threat:
details of highly illegal transactions contained in De Villiers’ private files would be revealed to the world at large – unless a package holding diamonds to the value of £950,000 was handed over.

       Stated in the message was the method of delivery. On Friday at 11 a.m., Charles De Villiers must give the package to his personal assistant, who was to carry it down to the ground floor, out of the building and on to the pavement in front of D-M headquarters. It would be here that the PA would receive further instructions. If the package had any tracking device placed within it, the deal would be off. If anyone else was too close to De Villiers’ PA when she came outside the building, again – the deal would be off.

       At the end, the message stated very clearly:
We are several. Any attempt to intercept or harm any one of us will result in massive exposure of your activities, absolute financial ruin and certain long-term imprisonment for you. You have been warned!

       Pamela waited for the glue to set; then carefully put the message into a stamped, self-adhesive envelope. It was already marked
Private and Confidential
. She placed the envelope inside a plastic carrier bag and put her coat on.

       After only a short walk to Leyton tube station and a quick flash of her travel pass, Pamela boarded the tube. She would have to change trains at Oxford Circus and get on to the Bakerloo line. She’d heard Lazarus mention Little Venice during his meeting with De Villiers. All she had left to do was get to Little Venice, find a post box and post the envelope. The Royal Mail would take her plan to its next stage.

Wednesday 8.00 a.m. South Wales
The three of us woke around the sevenish mark. Tegan had moved in with Neil and me. She was erring on the side of financial caution, due to the fact a buyer for the gallery building had appeared.

       Her house now had a
To Let
sign stuck outside it. With the dogs frantically barking at even the slightest of noises, I guessed it wouldn't be long before Dave got round to complaining.

       Peachy called early. There was no problem; I could go ahead and hire a van. I had to make sure it had a tail-lift that could handle a tonne. I had also to make sure there was a plentiful supply of strapping belts in the back to stop things flying about. By that, he meant his precious motorbike.

       We were to leave Thursday morning, picking up the remainder of Vaughan’s gear at Newton Manor. Peach had told us to meet him at Rugeley and he would direct us to where the boat was moored. We could then transfer his bike to the back of the van, making room on deck in case the safe should prove difficult to crack during the burglary.

       Peach had also instructed us to bring sleeping bags and roll-up mattresses. The boat would probably sleep five, but it was considered safer to have someone sleeping in the van. We didn’t want to have it nicked. That would be a disaster. It didn't seem fair for one of us to draw the short straw so I agreed with Neil that the two of us should rough it. After all, the other three had been living in each other’s pockets aboard the boat for a week or two, while we'd been enjoying the comfort of large beds on dry land.

Thursday 8.45 a.m. London
De Villiers-Moncourt(Chairman's Office)
Pamela Stokes had sorted the mail. The obvious run-of-the-mill standard fare had been quickly dealt with. On this particular morning, aside from the usual correspondence, there were three envelopes that had arrived in the post addressed to the chairman, all marked
Private and Confidential
. One of them Pamela instantly recognised; it was the envelope she had posted two nights before.

       The fact that there were three marked P&C on this particular day was good news for Pamela. The first two would put De Villiers off his guard. When he came to open Pamela's letter the chairman would then be less suspicious of its origins. He’d treat it as a genuine demand from the people Lazarus had been investigating, especially now it had a W9 postmark.

       Pamela placed the three envelopes on her boss's desk and awaited his arrival. Charles De Villiers entered the office a little after 10 a.m. He greeted Pamela with a formal ‘Morning Ms Stokes’, and went straight into his office.