‘Oh. One last thing,’ says Em, in her best Columbo. ‘Did you ever find out who bought your former home? Chepstow Crescent?’
‘Knocked on the door a few years later, just to say hello and see what they’d done with the garden. I must say, I was not impressed. Middle Eastern lot. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were dodgy.’ Sir Simon leans closer. ‘I just think they’re verydifferentto us, don’t you? Societally, I mean?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ says Em, stepping back and looking at the marble porch. ‘I think you find corruption everywhere under the sun if you know where to look.’ She smiles guilelessly at Sir Simon. And with that minor parting shot against a thousand years of jingoism, we take our leave. I clock three separate cameras on our way to the street.
Back outside the gates, Em hugs her sister. ‘Elle, you genius. How did you get the details of the last house and Dead Man Davy being involved? No, don’t tell me. Jonny.’
‘Yeah. He found the cached Land Registry files.’
‘So Davy had his own little operation, selling homes with hardly any commission, avoiding the actual firm.’
‘That’s why Mrs P says none of those properties were Harcourt and Wallace ones,’ I say.
‘And if he did that for all the homes in that ledger …’
‘That’s a lot of money Harcourt and Wallace would have missed out on.’
‘And Wallace had a big row with him a few weeks ago. Maybe he’d found out what was going on.’
Elle’s brow crinkles. ‘So then Wallace … killed him?’
‘It’s possible, I suppose.’
I think of something else. ‘That’s why his solicitor looked so terrified when I visited the office. He might have been the weak link. Perhaps Wallace used his evidence to confront Davy.’
‘Wow.’
‘But it still doesn’t make sense for Davy to slash the commission,’ I say. ‘Even if he was getting a much bigger chunk all for himself, that’s a thumping discount. Davy had an expensive life. He must have had another way of making the cash back.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Probably something to do with those companies.’
‘Yeah. Let’s ring Jonny.’
We all agree this is a great idea and we’ve done a great day’s work. As we head home, I switch on my main phone. A message bumps onto the screen:
You’re going to pay for everything you’ve done, Al. And more.
I glance at Em. She’s on her phone, but when she looks up in response to my hard stare, she seems totally oblivious. I don’t suppose … No. Just so unlikely. It can’t be her sending them. Nobody’s that good an actor.
Of course, if it’s not her, or Elle, or Jonny – although now I’m starting to have worries – then it’s another bit of my past catching up with me.
Either way, great stuff.
24
Four hours later, we’re sitting in the wreckage of a big Korean takeaway and doing our homework. Jonny’s sitting on the floor with his laptop and two phones; Elle’s in a solo armchair; Em and I are on the sofa. Her bare feet are quite near mine. Focus, Al. Jonny is talking us through something. He’s also told us he’s got exciting news, but he won’t tell us until he’s sure we understand the basics. He’s such a dad.
‘All right,’ says Em. ‘These companies listed in Davy’s ledger – every one of them owns one property, right? And you’re saying the properties are worth at least five million quid each.’
‘Much more, in some cases,’ says Jonny. ‘So now we find out who owns the companies. Anyone?’
I feel like this is a trick question. ‘You can just look that up, can’t you?’
Jonny sighs. ‘No. As I said a few minutes ago, these are firms registered overseas under a variety of complicated structures. It’s impossible to see at a glance who the ultimate owner is. Have you heard of the Paradise Papers?’
I shake my head.
