Then I remembered what kind of vans Colonial Conservatories use. My stomach felt like I'd eaten too much ice cream too fast. 'What night was it that he had the accident, Ted?' I asked.
Ted frowned and cast his eyes upwards. 'Let me see… It must have been Monday night. Yes, Monday. Because we were running round like lunatics Tuesday trying to fit everything in, and that's why Pete was going too fast to stop at the roundabout. And now we're two vans down, and no sign of either of them back till next week at the very earliest.' Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a flicker of movement as Shelley's hand sneaked out to pat Ted's.
Oh well, at least it hadn't been Ted's white Transit van that had tried to push me off Barton Bridge. 'I wish I had some good news for you, Ted,' I said, 'but I'm afraid it's a bit mixed. We're not due at the bank for another half-hour yet. D'you want to come into my office and I'll run it past you before we go and see Prudhoe?'
I thought I wasn't going to be able to get Ted to the bank. When I unfolded the tale of Jack's treachery, he went white round the mouth and headed for the door. Luckily, the sight of Shelley's astonished face slowed him down long enough for me to grab his arm and steer him into a seat. Shelley got a medicinal brandy into him and he recovered the power of speech. 'I'll kill the bastard,” he ground out between clenched jaws. 'I swear to God, I'll kill him.'
'Don't be silly,' Shelley said briskly. 'Kate will have him put in prison and that's much more satisfying,' she added. Taking me to one side while Ted stared into the bottom of his empty glass, she muttered, 'Which bastard are we talking about here?'
I gave her the last five seconds of the tale, which was enough to get her crouching beside Ted, murmuring the kind of comfort that it's embarrassing to witness. Of course, that was when Detective Chief Inspector Delia Prentice chose to put in an appearance. I immediately steered her towards the door and said, 'Ted, I'll see you downstairs in five minutes.'
I'd rung Delia as soon as Shelley gave me a time for the meeting with Prudhoe. I figured it would save me a bit of time if I outlined the case to her at the same time as I told the bank. I knew that the bank might be less than thrilled, but frankly, they were just going to have to lump it. I still had to find enough proof to nail Brian Lomax, and I simply didn't have the time to go into a ritual dance with Ted Barlow's bank manager about ethics.
Leonard Prudhoe was just as I'd expected. Smooth, supercilious, but above all, grey. From his silver hair to his shiny grey loafers, he was a symphony in the key of John Major. The only splash of colour was the angry purple zit on his neck. God knows how it had the temerity to sit there. Also, as I'd expected, he treated us like a pair of naughty children who've been reported to the head so they can learn how the grown-ups behave. 'Now, Miss Brannigan, I believe you think you might have some information pertinent to Mr. Barlow's current problems. But what I really can't understand is why you feel it necessary to have Chief Inspector Prentice present, charming as it is to make her acquaintance. I'm sure she's not in the least concerned with our little difficulties…'
I cut across the patronizing bullshit. 'As far as I'm concerned, a crime has been committed and that's more important than your sensibilities, I'm afraid. How much do you know about fraud, Mr. Prudhoe? Am I going to lose you three sentences in? Because if you're not well versed in major fraud inquiries, I suggest we get someone in here who is. I'm a very busy woman, and I haven't the time to go through this twice, which is why DO Prentice is here,' I said briskly. He couldn't have looked more shocked if I'd jumped on the desk and gone into a kissagram routine.
“Young woman,' he stuttered, 'I'll have you know that I am an expert in financial defalcations of all sorts.'
'Fine. Pin your ears back and take notes, then,' I retorted. There's something about pomposity that brings out the toe-rag in me. It must be the Irish quarter of my ancestry.
Prudhoe looked affronted, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ted looked a fraction less miserable. Delia Prentice seemed to have developed a nasty cough.
There's really no need to take this attitude,' Prudhoe said frostily.
'Listen, Mr. Prudhoe,' Ted interrupted. 'You people tried to take my business away from me. Kate's been trying to sort it out and, as far as I'm concerned, that entitles her to take any attitude she damn well pleases.'
The turning worm shut Prudhoe up long enough for me to get started. 'On the surface, it looks as if what has happened to Ted is a sequence of unfortunate coincidences, culminating in you cutting off his line of credit. But the truth is, Ted is the victim of a very clever fraud. And if the perpetrators hadn't got so greedy that they decided to go for a second bite of the cherry no one would ever have cottoned on, because the frauds would have looked all of a piece with genuine mortgage defaulters.' In spite of himself, I could see Prudhoe's interest quicken. Perhaps, under his patronizing pomposity there was a brain after all.
I outlined the reasons why Ted had come to us in the first place. Delia Prentice had her notebook out and was scribbling furiously. When I got to the missing conservatories, Prudhoe actually sat forward in his seat. This is how it works,” I said, thoroughly into my stride.
'You need a bent salesman and you need an insider in the office of an estate agency that specializes in decent-quality rental property. In this case, they used a firm called DKL Estates, who are as innocent of any criminal involvement as Ted is. The insider, let's call her Liz, picks houses that are to let where the owners have fairly common names and, preferably, where they are abroad, either working or in the services. Ideally, they want a couple who have been paying the mortgage for a fair few years, so that there's a substantial chunk of equity in the house. Liz then tells the office computer that she has found someone who wants to rent the place and whose references check out.
The surname of the couple renting the house is identical with that of the real owners, but because they've chosen common names, if anyone in the office other than Liz notices the coincidence, they can all stand around going, 'Well, stone me, isn't that incredible, what a small world, etc.'. Of course, because Liz has access to all the original paperwork from the owners, they've got copies of the signatures, and possibly info on bank accounts, mortgage accounts, service contracts and everything else. With me so far?'
'Fascinating,” Prudhoe said. 'Do go on, Miss Brannigan.'
The salesman, who has access to credit checking agencies via your financial services company, runs a check to see what other information about the owners it throws up. Then Liz opens a false bank account in the renter's name at that address, and stops any Post Office redirect on mail for the real owners. She spends a minimal amount of time in the house and pays rent for a while. Incidentally, they have three operations in the planning stage at any one time, so she never spends long enough in any of the houses for the neighbours to get close. They all think she works away, or works nights, or has a boyfriend she stays with a lot. She also changed her appearance with wigs, glasses and make-up to cover their tracks.
'Next, Jack McCafferty, Ted's top salesman, says he's had a call from her asking for an estimate for a conservatory. The following day, he comes in with an order, financed by a remortgage with this bank. And if it was one of those periodic nights where Ted goes out on the call with him, then Jack and Liz would just pretend they'd never met before and he'd pitch her just like any other punter. After all, remortgaging would be a perfectly legitimate way of doing it, and wouldn't ring any alarm bells with Ted or anyone else since everybody who can't sell their house right now is desperately trying to liberate some capital. I tracked all this down via the Land Registry's records, but I'm sure you can verify the remortgage details with your own records. I suspect they used your finance people all the time because they'd also earn the finance company's commission that way too,' I added.
'But wouldn't there be a problem with the original mortgage?' Delia asked. 'Surely, once that had been paid off, either the building society would be alerted because payments were still continuing from the real owners, or else the real owners would notice that their mortgage was no longer being taken out of their bank account.'
I hadn't thought of that. But then I remembered an experience Alexis and Chris had had when they first sold their separate homes to move in together. Alexis, being a fiscal incompetent, had carried on blithely paying her old mortgage for six months before she'd noticed. I shook my head. 'It would have taken ages for the building society to spot what was happening. And then they'd send a letter, and the letter would drop into a black hole because of the mail redirect being cancelled. It could drift on for ages before anyone at the building society got seriously exercised enough to do anything about it.'
Delia nodded, satisfied. Thanks. Sorry, do carry on. This is fascinating.'
'Right. So, when the bank checks the remortgage application, because the names are the same, all the information they get relates to the real owners, so there's never any problem. And the money is handed over. Think of the figures involved. Imagine a property bought ten years ago for twenty-five thousand pounds, which is now worth ninety thousand. The outstanding mortgage is only about seventeen thousand. They remortgage for the
