Vane sighs, apparently depressed at the amount we know already, and appears to fold his cards on this particular hand. ‘All right. Rob was in the middle of firing David and taking full ownership of the business, at ruinous expense. David was going along with the buy-out, as far as I know. There was a big payday coming for him, and he could have kept practising as an independent agent. There’s no reason for Rob to have taken any … drastic action. And I can assure you this sort of thing is totally irrelevant to our little charity. Anything else?’
‘Did you know Mr Harcourt was going to the police?’
‘No. I would have thought the police would be the last people he’d want to contact, if what you say is true.’
‘When did you last speak to him?’
‘To David? A year ago. We weren’t close. Apart from thoseannual lunches, we never saw each other. He stopped donating a few years back, and my work here allows for very little socialising.’ I don’t believe a word of this, or that Vane is incapable of socialising and getting something for himself at the same time.
‘Who killed him?’
‘I have no idea. If I knew, I’d go to the police. And speaking of the police, I’m calling security now.’
‘No need,’ says Em. ‘We’re leaving.’
Vane bestows on us a grin with all the humanity and warmth of a dental close-up. ‘Vanessa will escort you out.’
We walk back through the warren, saying nothing. Vanessa seems to have picked up on the froideur in the room and has taken her employer’s side against us. Even her back seems frosty as she leads us through the building. Once again, she’s texting as she walks.
And then, just as we’re about to leave the place and never come back:
We’re in the rather grubby side-door reception. I’m about to pass through the turnstile, and breathe freely for the first time in forty minutes. Em already has gone through.
‘Oh. One last thing.’ Vanessa holds up her phone. ‘Mr Vane wanted you to see this.’
Her phone is open on the Signal app. On the screen are the words: WALLACE DID IT. WATCH YOUR BACKS.
She presses a button, and the message disappears for ever.
36
Back at 38 Balfour Villas, Em is giving me a look.
‘Come on, Al. How would he know?’
‘Maybe Wallace confessed at the pub when they were having lunch.’
‘Would that be before or after the results of the Fantasy Football? “By the way, I killed one of our best friends, lovely catching up with you all, see you next year”? Come off it.’
‘I’m serious. These people all go way back. They tell each other everything.’
‘White Illuminati,’ mutters Jonny.
‘Thank you, Jonny. I mean, I’m pretty sure the original Illuminati were also white. But yes.’
‘No,’ says Em. ‘Clearly Vane was just trying to protecthimself from any involvement with this mess. Maybe he suspects Wallace but doesn’t have proof. If he had proof, he’d probably go to the police himself.’
‘Slippery bastard like Vane? No way.’
‘Shall we go over who we’re looking for again?’ asks Elle. She’s drawn everything up on the kitchen blackboard.
WE NEED SOMEONE WHO:
Knew re Davy’s appointment with police (how?)
Was involved in laundry scheme?
Got Davy his clients?
