The office was full before Keith Dawson entered; it was overflowing on his entry. Larry stood up and squeezed himself into a corner.
‘The money taken out of Montague Grenfell’s offshore account has been transferred to an offshore bank account in Jersey.’
‘Traceable?’ Isaac asked.
‘Subject to a warrant, yes.’
‘Do you have a name for the account?’
‘A company name. It doesn’t help.’
‘Company register?’ Larry suggested.
‘Offshore company, difficult to trace. Whoever took the money is smart. Not as smart as Montague Grenfell, though.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Isaac asked.
‘The Channel Islands may be an offshore banking haven, but they still come under British law. There will be little difficulty in ascertaining who is drawing on that account.’
‘How long do you need?’
‘Two hours.’
‘Okay,’ Isaac said. ‘We reconvene at three in the afternoon. Keith, you’ve got three.’
‘Thanks.’ Dawson left the office a happy man. For once he was in his element, finding a felon.
Keith worked solidly, making phone calls, sending emails, pulling in favours. Bridget brought him a sandwich for lunch, and Wendy kept him supplied with coffee.
At two in the afternoon, he moved from his seat. ‘I’ve got it,’ he said.
***
The first arrest was made at five that afternoon. Wendy and Larry accompanied by a uniform cautioned the person, applied the handcuffs.
At seven in the evening, the interview room at Challis Street was occupied. Isaac took the lead role, with Larry to his left. On the other side sat the accused and her lawyer.
Isaac dealt with the formalities as required. He gave the names of those present, and the fact that the proceedings would be videoed and a transcript would be available at completion.
All parties acknowledged, including the accused’s lawyer, an imperious little man who looked as though he was going to be trouble.
‘My client has committed no crime.’
‘We have good reason to believe that she is an accessory to murder,’ Isaac said.
‘There is no evidence,’ Leonard Smithers said. Larry knew him, did not like him, but he was smart. Larry had forewarned Isaac to be careful with him.
Isaac chose not to reply and turned his focus to the accused. ‘Miss Solomon, you have been charged as an accessory to murder. Would you like to comment?’
Deidre Solomon sat quietly across from Isaac. Her record of prostitution was well known, and there had been a few arrests over the years. It was apparent that she had been preparing to visit a client when she had been picked up. Wendy and Larry had made a point after meeting her in Chelsea to find out where she worked, and the haunts she frequented.
‘I am not guilty,’ she said. Isaac had to admit she was a fine-looking woman. Her skin was clear with the slightest trace of makeup, her hair was lustrous, and the dress she was wearing looked as if it had been moulded onto her.
‘You are charged with being an accessory to the murder of Montague Grenfell. We have proof.’
‘What proof?’ Smithers asked.
‘You have been withdrawing substantial amounts of cash from a bank account in the Channel Islands.’
‘What has that to do with the murder?’ Deidre Solomon asked.
‘That account had been dormant for some time with only a small amount of money in it.’
‘I would not know that.’
‘In recent weeks, you have been transferring to it from another account at least one thousand pounds a day.’
‘It was my money.’
‘Are you saying that you earn that every day?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who set up the account?’
‘I asked someone to do it for me,’ Deidre Solomon said. Leonard Smithers said nothing. His client was handling herself well.
‘Who?’
‘A friend.’
‘Miss Solomon,’ Isaac said. ‘An offshore account is not easy to open. A friend would not have been able to open it in your name, or that of a company, without the appropriate paperwork. I am putting it to you that your brother opened the account. Is that correct?’
‘Daniel is good at organising. I’m not.’
‘We are arresting your brother for Montague Grenfell’s murder.’
‘He did not kill him.’
‘Did he tell you this?’
‘My client does not need to answer,’ Smithers said.
‘He would not harm anyone,’ Deidre Solomon said, ignoring her legal advice.
‘He has a history of violence,’ Larry said.
‘When he was younger.’
‘We have documented proof that you have withdrawn substantial sums of money from this account. We also have proof that the money in that account came from an account that Montague Grenfell used. The evidence is indisputable.’
‘I would not know that.’
‘Who would?’ Isaac asked.
‘My client does not need to answer that question.’
This time, Deidre Solomon heeded his advice.
Isaac continued, aiming to break through the woman’s defences, aware that as long as she kept mute, there was not a lot to hold her on.
‘We have proof that the withdrawals of the money occurred after Montague Grenfell’s death.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Miss Solomon. Montague Grenfell was killed for a password to an account that you knew about.’
‘How?’
‘He visited you on a regular basis. A lonely old man in need of company, the need to talk. I am putting it to you that in a moment of weakness, he opened up about his life and ultimately the account.’
‘This is pure conjecture,’ Smithers said. Isaac ignored him.
‘Miss Solomon, you became aware of this account, and possibly while the man was asleep, you managed to check his phone and find the account details.’
Deidre Solomon said little, other than to lower her head. ‘I did not,’ she whispered.
‘And once you were in possession, your brother tried to withdraw money. Do you do this with other clients? Get them heady with love and sex and cheap perfume, and then fleece them.’
‘This is harassment,’ Smithers said.
Isaac was on
