Chapter 7
Shirley O’Rourke cursed Christine Devon. ABC Cleaning, a byword for excellence, or at least that was what it said on the door, did not need the police inside its office, and now they’d been twice in as many days.
‘Mrs O’Rourke, is it possible that your employees were stealing?’
‘We spoke about this yesterday. They’ve got nothing, and then they’re in Aladdin’s Cave.’ The owner sat back in her chair. Wendy Gladstone could see that it was an attempt to be nonchalant, although she had been around enough villains to know the woman was unnerved.
‘It would be easy for someone in your company to coordinate these activities. It’s a viable theory for the death of Christine Devon.’
‘How, what do you mean?’
‘The cleaners take photos on their phone. Someone else with the necessary knowledge makes a judgement call on what should be taken and when. Nothing too obvious, but the rich tend to leave money and jewellery around the house. A lot of the people would not even register the missing item and then claim insurance. Is that what’s happened here?’
‘Are you accusing me?’ Shirley O’Rourke said.
‘Not you directly, but it’s a hypothesis.’
‘I vet my people.’
‘But you take advantage of desperate people, pay them a pittance, cream off plenty.’
‘That’s slanderous. I’m a businesswoman. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘Christine Devon was an honest woman. If she had not done anything wrong, you would have sacked her within a few months.’
‘I’ve told you this once.’
‘I can’t prove it yet, but you’ve been stealing from these houses and fencing the goods. The people who clean for you don’t have the contacts. They may help themselves to some money lying around, take food from the fridge to feed their families, but the big money is in the jewellery, the antiques. Maybe you’re in collusion with some of the house owners.’
Shirley O’Rourke raised her bulk from her chair and steadied herself with one hand on her desk. ‘How dare you come in here with such accusations. I will report this matter to the relevant authorities.’
‘I’ll give you the number,’ Wendy said. ‘And besides, I have a warrant to seize all of your accounts and employee records.’
‘How, why?’
‘A court order. We’ve done some research into you and this company. Also, we know about your time in jail for fraud.’
‘That was a long time ago. You could have asked for my records.’
‘And allowed you time to shred or delete them? I’ll also need the password for your computer.’
‘I’ll have my lawyer onto you.’
‘Mrs O’Rourke, please take whatever steps that you feel appropriate.’ Wendy made a phone call. Soon after, two men, one woman came into the office. ‘These people are from Fraud. They will take all that they require. You can either assist them or not.’
***
Isaac had been told that Quentin Waverley was an agreeable man. That was not the impression that he and Larry formed on meeting the man.
Isaac had made the appointment earlier in the day and had received a brusque reply when he mentioned what it was about. Waverley had attempted to suggest that the bank’s legal team would look into the validity of Isaac’s request to meet that day. Isaac had to inform him that he was possibly implicated in the death of Amelia Brice and if he wanted his legal team to assist, he’d better tell them that fact first.
After Isaac had held his ground, two in the afternoon was agreed on.
Both the police officers had to admit that Waverley had an excellent office: fifteenth floor, panoramic vista of the city of London, personal assistant in the other room. ‘My time’s limited,’ Waverley said.
‘Amelia Brice?’
‘What about her?’ Waverley replied. Isaac could see that he was a confident man by the way he sat in his chair. The man’s office was expensively decorated, original oil paintings on the wall, plush carpet on the floor, in contrast to the central area of the merchant bank: functional and businesslike with tiled floors and open-plan offices.
‘You were in a relationship with her.’
‘For some time. We even lived together, but that’s in the past.’
‘We have reason to believe that you were still in contact with her up to the time of her death.’
‘I wasn’t and why do you believe that?’
‘In her diary, it mentions a Q on several occasions.’
‘Is that it?’
‘It is clearly you.’
‘Why? I’m not the only person with a Q in their name, and even then, it may mean something else.’
‘A type of code?’ Larry said.
‘Amelia liked to play games. I suggest that you both leave and come back here when you’ve done your research. For your record, we broke up some years ago. Since then I have married. I have no wish to relive the past.’
‘Not the part where Amelia caught you in bed with her friend?’
‘Not that part or any other part.’
‘Are you saying that she did catch you?’
‘Who have you been talking to, her father?’
‘Yes.’
‘Jeremy’s fine. We keep in contact.’
‘Why, if your relationship with his daughter was fractured?’
‘Fractured? I’m not sure I understand the word. Our relationship came to an end, that’s all.’
‘And you’ve not spoken to her since.’
‘Not by choice. I saw her in a restaurant once. We acknowledged each other.’
‘Was your wife with you?’
‘Not that time.’
‘Have there been other times?’
‘There may have been, but none come to mind. How do you deal with old lovers?’
‘We need to establish your relationship with Amelia Brice,’ Isaac said.
‘There was no relationship. She caught me with another woman. We were virtually separated by that time. Amelia made a scene and stormed out of the place. After that, I’ve not spoken to
