False Charity (32 page)

‘He wouldn't do that!' She was sharp.

‘I think he's running out of control. We're not offering you a blanket Get Out of Jail Free card. If he's had up for anything else that he's done or will do in the future, then the deal's off.'

Lines deepened on her face. ‘You're being very hard.'

‘Probably not hard enough,' said Piers. ‘I imagine these are not the first scams you've run, and that you've left a trail of damaged and bankrupt people around the country.'

‘Ridiculous!' But the rebuttal was perfunctory.

‘Ms McNeice,' said Piers, ‘am I right in thinking there is some kind of association of hoteliers? Would you care to put photographs of these two people on their website with a warning about them?'

‘What?' For the first time, the woman looked alarmed. ‘You can't do that.'

‘Will do,' said Ms McNeice. ‘With pleasure.'

The receptionist wobbled to her feet. ‘What about what he did to me?'

‘And to Maggie,' said Bea, noting that Maggie was sagging in her chair.

Piers stroked a chin that was showing a distinct shadow. ‘Yes, Mrs Somers-Briggs, what about these two girls? Those diamonds of yours are the real thing, if I'm any judge of the matter. Suppose you throw them into the kitty and we give them to the girls by way of recompense for all they've suffered.'

The woman clutched her ear lobes, and shivered. Slowly she divested herself of her bracelet and earrings, laying them on the table. ‘Can we go now?'

Bea collected nods from around the room. Tommy Banks stood away from the door. Ms McNeice said she'd see their guests off the premises. Mrs Somers-Briggs swept the black velvet bag off the desk to take with her, but Coral said, ‘No, you don't. That's my cash in there.'

Mrs Somers-Briggs delved into the bag and withdrew the wad of notes, throwing them into the air and letting them flutter down all over the desk and floor. Perhaps she thought this would distract everyone, for she made a grab at the pile of cheques she'd counter-signed. Piers put his hand over hers, and leaned on it.

She shrugged. He took his hand away, she shouldered the black bag and walked out, followed by her partner.

Coral began to laugh, but as her laughter climbed towards hysteria, she managed to stop herself. Oliver shut down his laptop.

Anticlimax. Bea was too tired to think straight and Coral was blinking to keep herself awake. Ms McNeice seemed as fresh as ever, as did Tommy Banks.

Piers collected the notes into a neat pile. ‘Have we an elastic band to put round these?'

Ms McNeice said, ‘I suggest we count the cash now, and total the cheques. If you agree, I'll then give you a receipt for them and the diamonds, and put everything in the safe until tomorrow when we can have a meeting to work out who gets what. Do you all agree?'

‘I'll help,' said Tommy Banks.

Oliver was staring at something on the desk. He said, ‘Eureka!' in a hushed voice. He picked the little silver-backed notebook up. ‘She forgot this! Which means—'

Bea began to laugh. ‘Which means that if she was speaking the truth, this may be the only record she has of her passwords.'

‘She's probably got the original records back home,' said Oliver. ‘Or she could go into the bank in person on Monday and cancel the transaction. I think it's fifty-fifty that it goes through, even with what we've got on Noel.'

Suddenly Bea felt too tired to cope. ‘I'm taking Maggie home and putting her to bed. Piers, can you find us a taxi? Coral, have you got your van with you?'

Coral said she'd stashed it in the square opposite and was looking forward to putting on the electric blanket in her bed when she got home and perhaps having a hot toddy to help her sleep. ‘For you must admit it's been quite an experience, hasn't it?'

Ms McNeice said they'd put up the receptionist for the night – though not in the honeymoon suite – and in twos and threes they dispersed.

‘Thank God that's all over,' said Piers, as they got into a cab. ‘Though I don't think we'd have got the money out of her if Noel hadn't behaved so badly.' He consulted his watch. ‘I'll doss down with you tonight, Bea, if you don't mind. Too late for anything else.'

Bea nodded. She was past speech. She envied young Oliver his seemingly endless supply of energy. If it hadn't been for him, they'd never have known how to get the money. Even Maggie, who'd been so appallingly badly treated, was able to summon up a smile when Oliver asked if she were all right now.

Bea wondered what Hamilton would have done, if he'd been in charge tonight. The thought made her smile. He'd have tried to keep Bea and Coral out of it, probably. He had old-fashioned ideas about men looking after their womenfolk. Mind you, there was a lot to be said for his ideas when you were as tired as Bea was tonight.

She remembered something that he would also have done if he'd been around tonight, and that was saying thank you. She said it now …
Thanks, Lord. Oh, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

Sunday, early hours of the morning, continued

Someone was waiting for Noel on the first-floor landing outside his flat.

‘Remember me?'

At first Noel couldn't place the little man, taking him for a beggar who had somehow managed to gain entrance to the flats when another resident had gone in or out of the front door. ‘Out of my way, old man.'

‘I am making a citizen's arrest,' the pompous old prick said, grasping Noel's sleeve.

‘What the …!' Noel shook him off. ‘Go home and sleep it off, do you hear?'

‘I want my money and I'm not leaving till I get it.'

Noel laughed, short and sharp. ‘If you don't get out of my way immediately, it'll be on your head.'

The little man drew himself up to his inconsiderable height – Noel topped him by six inches – and ran his forefinger left and right over his almost non-existent moustache. ‘My name is—'

‘Wait a minute. I remember you. At the Country Club? Weren't you the waiter in charge of the wine or something?'

‘I provided all the wines for that evening,' said Leo, with dignity, ‘for which I have not yet been paid. It's taken me some time to track you down, Mr Noel Briggs – or whatever your name is – but now I've found you, I'm not leaving till I get my money.'

‘My name is not Briggs,' said Noel, automatically. ‘You have the wrong man.'

Leo produced a bundle of soiled and torn bills. ‘Once I'm on the trail, I never let up. I watched outside your accommodation address this afternoon till I saw you leave, and I followed you all the way here. To make sure I'd got the right person, I've spent hours going through all the rubbish downstairs in the various bins till I found the proof I needed. Your mother rents flat number four under the name of Briggs and we are outside flat number four at this very minute.'

‘Mistaken identity. Come back tomorrow afternoon when my mother's here, and you can talk to her about … whatever.'

Leo flourished the papers. ‘By tomorrow afternoon you may well have flitted. I've been sitting here waiting for you to return for hours, and I'm not leaving till this is settled. Look, here's a pile of envelopes addressed to Mrs Somers-Briggs at the accommodation address which we know you've been using, and some spoiled tickets for the affair tonight at the hotel. That ties you and your mother into the false charity. Here are some letters from people you've cheated out of their pay-packets; this one is from a singer, and another here from a car rental company. They give the licence number of that red car you've been driving, Mr Briggs, and say your first cheque has unfortunately not been honoured. Oh, I've got the right person all right.'

Noel drew his mouth back into a rictus. ‘Old man, if you know what's good for you, you'll stop right there. I'm in no mood to listen to your whinging. And there's one thing you've forgotten. You're on private premises which means you're trespassing, and I can throw you out at any time I like.'

‘Fisticuffs, eh?' Leo thrust his papers back into his pocket and put his hands up in a boxing stance. ‘Well, come on, then. I used to box a bit, you know.'

Noel laughed, but his anger grew. ‘As if …! I could swat you as easily as I kill a fly.'

Leo danced up and down on his toes. ‘Go on, then! It looks as if you've been fighting already this evening. Been beating up a girl? That's about your weight, isn't it?'

Noel reddened. ‘I've killed before, and if you know what's good for you …'

Leo knew the truth when he heard it. His mouth gaped in shock.

Noel realized he'd said too much.

Leo turned to run, but before he could reach the first stair, Noel caught him a blow on the back of his shoulder. Leo tumbled down the stairs and lay still, arms flung up above his head. Eyes closed.

Noel hung on to the railing, breathing hard, listening. Had anyone else heard?

Silence. Nobody had heard, or perhaps the other people on this floor were out for the evening and hadn't returned yet.

Noel pulled his sleeve across his mouth. He hadn't intended to kill the little man, but if he had … well, it wasn't his fault, was it? Noel had warned him, not once but twice.

Now what was he to do? His mother would know, but she wasn't back yet. She ought to be back. She oughtn't to have left him all alone. She was probably out celebrating somewhere with Richie, which was most unfair.

So, Noel would have to manage things by himself. He crept down the stairs and bent over the body in an effort to find a pulse. He was nervous, couldn't find one. Perhaps wasn't doing it right. He shrugged. Surely the man was dead. It was just so easy to kill, wasn't it?

Furious with everyone but himself, cursing the evil fate that dogged him this evening, Noel went through Leo's pockets, removed his mobile phone, some twenty-pound notes from his wallet, and the paperwork he'd so painstakingly disinterred from the bin. He hoisted Leo on to his shoulder and took him down the stairs into the basement, dumping him with the rubbish bins at the back of the garage area. The bins wouldn't be emptied till the following Thursday, by which time Noel would be long gone.

Noel went back up the stairs, got out his keyring and let himself into the flat. Time to pack.

Sunday, early hours of the morning

W
hat Noel had no way of knowing was that it had been a point of honour for Leo to keep himself fit. Yes, he looked rickety, but his heart and lungs were sound.

Leo had been stunned by the fall, but not killed. He came back to consciousness slowly. It took him some time to work out where he was, and then to check that his arms and legs were still functioning. He rather thought he'd cracked a rib and he was bruised all over, but good heavens, he'd suffered worse than that in his time, hadn't he?

He staggered up the slope from the garage to the street, only to find a large car bearing down upon him. He was caught in the headlights. There was no escape. It would be just his luck to be trapped on the ramp by the rest of the gang!

In fact, the car was occupied by a middle-aged couple from one of the top flats, returning from a late night out. And they had a mobile phone on them.

Richie was a careful driver, sometimes a little slow for Lena's taste. Tonight there was hardly any traffic on the roads, but he still slowed for intersections and stopped for red lights.

Lena wept a little, and then began to make plans.

‘We'd better shift from the flat tomorrow morning. Once we're away, they won't know how to lay hands on us. The air tickets and the new passports are in the desk. On Monday I can use my laptop to tell the bank to cancel the transaction. It could be worse. We've lost the cheques and that cash … and my diamonds. I can soon replace them.'

Richie said, ‘I told you Noel was bad news. I think he ought to see a doctor.'

‘There's nothing wrong with him bar high spirits. He's so attractive to women, it's not surprising that they fall over themselves to … and if he does lash out occasionally, well, it's just that he doesn't know his own strength.'

‘I don't blame you for sticking up for him, Lena, but this is where I bow out. I'll change my air ticket tomorrow for another destination, and let you know where to send my cut.'

‘I don't want to lose you, Richie.' And perhaps she meant it, in a way.

He was silent. He was sorry for her, a little. He didn't think Noel was ever going to be anything but trouble with a capital T.

He turned into the road in which their block of flats lay, and put on the brakes.

‘What …!'

For a count of five, he stared at a police car parked slightly askew outside the front door of the flats.

She whispered, ‘What?'

Richie took his foot off the brakes and drove on past the flats and round the corner. He found a space and parked. ‘Ring Noel on his mobile. You've got yours on you, haven't you?'

She delved into her bag with shaking hands. ‘The police … it can't be anything to do with Noel. Can it?' She pressed numbers, swore with vexation. ‘I can't, my fingers are slippery.'

He took out his own mobile, and pressed numbers. They could hear the phone ringing at the other end. An ambulance, lights flashing, crossed the road behind them, followed by another. The phone at the other end went unanswered.

Richie said, ‘Can you think of any reason why Noel isn't answering his mobile phone? Unless he's been prevented from doing so.'