Chapter 7

 

     Freddie was in a great mood Monday as he left the house and climbed into the taxi. He had slept surprisingly well. Finding out about that ledger changed everything. It gave him power. He was feeling so good he sat up front and clipped the belt and said, “to the station,” and unusually added, “please,” and watched the driver slam it into gear with a crunch as his brown, sloppy fitting espadrille slipped on the clutch pedal. The flashy navy silk suit with the subtle check made him feel like he looked important and with the fresh white shirt and subdued grey silk tie and gold clip he felt refined. That was what confidence was all about, how you felt. If you felt great nothing could stop you and when you had that important, refined look on top nothing could beat you. That was how he felt today and that was why he sat up front. He slipped on his Ricky shades and shut the glare down and grinned out the windscreen and caught the driver squinting into the sun and grinned more.

The drive was a slow forty minutes of stop start rush hour traffic. The driver patient and relaxed tapping out the rhythm of his favourite piece on the wheel and listening to the two way’s squawky voice messages. He kept flicking his hair out of his eyes in a kind of irritating way but who cares? Freddie was in a real good mood and today nothing was going to irritate him. Five minutes to spare and they arrived and he paid the man giving him an extra twenty and said, “get your haircut so you don’t piss off the passengers,” and strolled briskly into the station with shoulders back and the upright stance of someone feeling on top form.

Suits and Crombies and bright ladies jackets filled the platform just before nine with small groups standing where the carriage doors would stop. The regulars who knew their trains. Freddie waited only a few minutes then jumped on the Waterloo only train, the first London bound train to arrive. He had to laugh. It was rammed but he swaggered to the right into first class and sat in near emptiness then smirked when the guard chucked out the couple hiding in the corner seats forcing them to drag their luggage through the door. He could see them standing and swaying in the back of the next carriage and laughed one of those quiet sort of smug serves you right kind of laughs. 

It was no better at Waterloo and he walked quickly, mostly straight, and through the heaving crowds deliberately nudging people out of the way but did grab the old guy on the way down who had lost his footing. It was a great day. Why not do a nice thing for once? The taxi rank was queued past the barrier but so what? He would wait, no barging in today. The taxi driver was the normal happy chatty sort and spoke with a tinny voice through the microphone and Freddie replied, “Lincoln’s Inn please,” I’m being just so nice he thought with a grin. Then said, because this is what everyone always said when they got in a taxi and today he felt like most people do on a sunny day, he said, “you been busy today?” Then laughed and listened to all that taxi driver claptrap until he gave up a fifty and said, “that’s good,” and got out opposite a line of offices.

The offices of James Mackenzie Munroe were pretending to be lavish and a touch on the over-complicated side. Too many of those gilt French style statues standing on ornate brass edged side tables, the sort from the eighteenth century but bought a few years ago from a high end office furnishers offering cheap repros. Behind the ultra wide mahogany topped desk sat the mid-aged receptionist with blue rimmed glasses and long dark hair held up with a crocodile clip and a nice welcoming smile that faded when she saw Freddie. Freddie found himself humming as he walked through the door and he never hummed it clashed with his normal overbearing attitude. The name on the desk plate said Julie Stevens but Freddie knew that already and still felt the tongue lashed slap of a previous hands on flirting attempt.

“Morning Julie,” he said, feeling his buoyancy erase that past memory.

“Mr Beauchamp,” Julie frostily replied, “you're early. Take a seat. Hopefully James won’t be too long,” and went straight back to her typing and looking at the computer monitor.

He sauntered over to a comfy looking armchair with blue striped cushions and from the reception area table picked up a copy of one of those magazines about houses and gardens that are printed to make you go shopping. As far as he was concerned it was a comedy rag. The pictures of pristine gardens expertly laid out with perfectly formed flower beds were a joke. No one's garden was like that, they were full of weeds and half dead plants. Like his. Sure you could pay an expert to design a show and it would look like just those pictures. His had. Trouble was it grew and the wind blew and frosts burnt the tender plants. Freddie looked at his Patek and thought ten twenty was late for James but before he could think too much Julie said, “Mr Beauchamp, you can go through now.” As he stood up a tall man wearing a dark grey jacket and one of those peaked cloth caps came in and nodded at Julie and sat down. He stared at Freddie then turned his head to look out of the window and kind of almost silently whistling an indistinguishable tune. That moustache, one of those narrow thick ones sitting above razor thin lips with permanent smile creases and the dark rimmed glasses added a sinister edge, the sort of edge that made you look twice and stay well clear.

 

James was sitting behind a desk of jumbled papers. The room was large with dark wood bookcases down one wall full of all those legal volumes that clutter lawyer’s offices. Tall windows overlooking the street with blinds, those slat type blinds with the right hand one swung fully open. It was quiet. Whatever glazing there was certainly kept out the traffic noise. James stood and leant over the desk and shook Freddie's hand. He had his jacket off showing wide red braces and those elasticated ring type things that hold the shirt sleeves up a bit. Freddie imagined him talking Chicago style with a fat full Corona burning slow between his plump fingers with the ash long and grey and about to drop. He said, “take a seat Freddie. I would prefer you in that one there,” pointing to a red leather armchair on the right hand side of the desk. There was one chair on the left hand side and two chairs against the wall on each side of the door. That chair though caught the light from the window and to James’s satisfaction made Freddie squint just a fraction.

“So Freddie, what can I do for you? I received your interesting text thank you.”

“Actually it’s what I can do for you James,” Freddie said with an almost smirking grin.

“But you want something Freddie, don’t you? Tell me what it is you want?” James had a kind of patronising way of talking that Freddie found irritating. Talking through a grin with his fat lips wobbling looking at him over the top of his glasses and smiling an insincere smile.

With the uncomfortable Chesterfield armchair denting his humour Freddie said, “It’s my mother and my father’s money. I should be in control of all that money, not her. My mother doesn’t know what to do with it. Do you know she’s arranged for a financial advisor?” and that made James smile remembering his conversation with Lily. “And the house. I want her out of that house. It’s too big for her. And I want my job back.”

“That could all be somewhat difficult Freddie. It was all willed to her and would need her permission to change control. I’m sure you understand that, don’t you?”

“Sure I do but there must be something you could do. You could talk to her, make her see sense.”

“I could try but there’s no guarantee. I repeat. All these decisions are for her to make.”

“You know I’ve found a ledger? D’you know what that contains?”

“I don’t but I’m sure you can tell me,” said James cleverly disguising his sudden interest.

“All the transactions. My father located all the transactions. The dates, times and amounts and listed them in a ledger that I’ve found. And all the fake invoices, he found those as well. It must’ve taken him forever. Everything’s there.”

“That’s interesting. Have you brought this… ledger with you? I would like to see it.”

“No, it’s in a safe place. You can have it when I get what I want.”

James was quiet for a few seconds then said, “How did you find out about this ledger?”

“From my mother. My father must’ve told her something after that man called.”

“What man is that? You’ve never mentioned any man before.”

“I don’t know who he is, do I? How would I know? Anyway I doubt it’s important.”

James, clearly getting a bit angry and frustrated with Freddie’s stupidity said, “Maybe it is. You said your father discovered all this when he was checking the books but maybe there’s another reason. Did you ever think of that?”

“No I didn’t. Why should I? He found out and that’s all that’s important.”

“Well I’m not too sure about that. Anyway I think it would be best for everyone if you just gave me the ledger.”

“Best for you, you mean.”

“I mean best for everyone and that very much includes you. Whether you like it or not you are involved with some very dangerous people.”

“Well you can have it, I don’t want it. Like I said, what I want is control and the house if possible. But I want control. Get me that at least and you can have the ledger.”

“I’m not sure if I can guarantee that. You came to me remember, asking me to help you. There was all that money gone, all that cash you had syphoned off and spent and that huge hole in your accounts. What do they call it? a black hole and you had an extremely deep and very black one. I gave you the way out and you blew it. It was simple enough and you weren’t careful enough, were you?”

“But I was careful.”

“Well that’s not how it seems. All you had to do was take the cash when it was sent to you and run it through all those lovely cash generative companies. They dealt in cash and were perfect. Almost undetectable if you were careful. Then you just had to pay all those fictitious invoices when presented. What could be more simple. A bit of creative accounting and when you had filled all your black holes you would have been rich. But maybe you are just simply too dumb to see all the benefits.” 

“Yes, yes I know all that. But you can try, can’t you?”

“I’ll do my best. Leave it with me and I’ll be in touch. Now if that’s all I’m very busy.”

 

As Freddie left James picked up the phone and said, “Julie, ask Mr Jones to come in, will you please.”

“Ah Mr Jones,” said James as the tall man came in and sat, immediately slouching into the left hand chair, “I have a couple of problems that need your careful attention. The man that just left has something I want.”

“That’s the son, Freddie. Yes?”

“Yes and I want no loose ends if you understand my meaning. That is most important. I will have to satisfy my employers.”

“I appreciate the problem,” said Mr Jones, “and the son’s mother?”

“The mother as well. She’s know’s something and I won’t risk her knowing too much. And there’s something else. Freddie mentioned a man going to see Aubrey just before he discovered what Freddie was doing. I want you to find out who he is. He could be a loose end that needs clipping.”

 

 

 

The drive up the long sweep to the house was spectacular. Tall trees casting long shadows and thick rhododendrons providing screening then opening out to display a flat lawned landscape framing the elevations of a magnificent building. Probably a 1920’s house with tall gables and leaded windows with wide oak frames that were that kind of greyish colour of naturally weathered wood. Two bay windows extending from the ground up to the roof providing character to the lower and upper rooms. One each side of the extra wide oak front door. Bobby noted the rolling crunching sound as his car manoeuvred over the gravelled surface. This was not a house that could silently be approached by any vehicle. He passed a small cottage near the gate tucked back in the trees a bit. A mirror image of the main house but of course much, much smaller. Some sort of gate house maybe. It looked a bit run down but nothing a bit of time and energy would not cure. Shame he thought, such a nice looking place.

As he pulled up by the front steps the door opened and Lilly Beauchamp came out looking anxious. She pushed her hair back and ran her fingers through in kind of one of those exasperated agitated ways, “I heard you coming up the drive,” she said. Then said suddenly recognised his hair as he got out the car, “oh it’s you. I thought you might be the man from the cat place. He said he would call today.”

“I’m sorry Mrs Beauchamp,” Bobby said, “is it not convenient?” and pulled his dark blue suit jacket off the back seat and slipped it on and straightened his tie.

“Yes… yes of course it is, it's just that Molly’s gone missing and the cat man said he would have a look for her but he’ll arrive later I expect. Anyway you’re here now so please come in,” and she ushered him through the door while having a quick glance around the lawns.

“Come through to the garden, it's nice out there at the moment. Coffee?”

Sitting on the terrace in the shade under the awning waiting for Lilly to return Bobby was looking at the pool thinking what a great place this would be to live. He noticed the pool room down the other end with sun loungers and wide windows. He bet there was a bar in there and a well stocked bar at that. Thought it was a different life altogether this high end living but they all had a similar problem, rich people and not so rich people. They all had that universal problem but in different ways. Money. Him and Lilly Beauchamp included. The problems were he did not have any to do anything with and Lilly Beauchamp had too much and did not know what to do with it.

“So thank you for calling today,” said Lilly, coming through the terrace doors carrying a tray  of coffee, “I simply don’t know what to make of everything in this booklet.” Then added, “milk?”

Bobby said, “no thank you,” and started flipping the pages as she poured. He settled on the third after all the opening blurb and started to describe investment suggestions going through various options and asking if she understood that bit and when she did he moved on. It took a while to cover it all then he said, “does this make a bit more sense now. It’s quite easy really. Just remember to look at the fund or investment and the sum deposited then you will be able to keep an eye on the movement of values.”

“I think it’s a lot clearer thank you. I’m not sure though if I would be able to track anything regularly.”

“That’s not a problem, I’ll send you quarterly updates with values and any alterations that I thought were needed. I’ll update everything now so you will know where you stand at this moment then you will be able to make a decision whether to proceed or not. That way you would not have to bother too much. There is one thing. It would be useful to know any next of kin. Do you have children for instance?”

“I have one son,”

“Could I have his contact details?”

“Is it important? I don’t want him involved in any investments.”

“He wouldn’t be involved at all, it's just that if anything happened to you I would need to liaise with your son with regard to your wishes so yes it’s quite important.”

“Well I suppose there’s no harm if that’s all you need them for but I don’t want him involved. Is there anything else I need to do?”

“No, I think we’ve covered everything. If there's anything I think of, I'll call you tomorrow. Would the evening be alright?”

“That’s Tuesday isn’t it? Yes, that's no problem, I’m in all evening.”

Lilly walked with Bobby to the front door and as he was leaving he asked if she was alone at the moment because he remembered Max being there last time he called and she said he was on holiday until Saturday.

With Lilly watching him and hoping that the cat man would arrive he fired up his car, drove slowly down the drive trying not to kick about too many stones and headed home to get ready for the film show with Gloria.