‘Just make sure it’s not you, or any of your smart friends.’
‘It won’t be. You’ve got our respect.’
Larry looked Eckersley square in the eye. ‘I’m here about murder, not whether half the stuff in here is stolen. Unless you want this place turned over by the uniforms looking for stolen merchandise, I suggest you stop your insults and give me some answers.’
The miserly little man reflected on what to do. ‘Okay, Inspector, what do you want?’
‘It may be better if you close your door, or we can talk out the back.’
‘Here’s fine. It’s a mess back there.’ Which to Larry meant that the evidence of stolen goods hadn’t been dealt with yet.
With the door at the front closed the two men sat down on a couple of chairs produced from behind the counter. ‘We’d better make ourselves comfortable,’ Eckersley said.
‘We’re looking for big lenders. I’m told that you’re one.’
‘I lend if the risk is acceptable. But I have a limit.’
‘What is it?’
‘One hundred thousand, but I’m reluctant. If they don’t pay me back, I’m out of pocket, not much I can do about it either.’
‘You can threaten them, give them a taste of what will happen if they don’t pay you back with interest.’
‘Even if I did, that doesn’t mean I’ll get it back, does it? And besides, that’s not how I operate.’ Larry knew when he had been told a lie. Eckersley was just the sort of man to send in his men if someone was giving trouble, late on his repayments, had given some dumb tale about next week and paying in full.
‘Don’t feed me nonsense,’ Larry said. ‘I’m not here for you. I’m here for someone who lent four hundred thousand, someone who’s not averse to giving someone a serious beating, someone who would probably kill if the debt couldn’t be recovered.’
‘No profit in that, only a lot of hassle.’
‘Let’s assume this person can afford to carry the debt if there’s no other option.’
‘There are one or two, but if they find out that I’ve spoken to you…’
‘They won’t. And don’t give any of that “I’m just an honest man trying to make an honest quid” nonsense. It’s an insult to my intelligence.’
‘You’re a tough bastard, Detective Inspector Hill,’ Eckersley said.
‘I’m a good friend if you help me. Help me, I help you. Deal?’
‘It’s a deal.’
‘Good. Who do you have?’
‘There’s one not far from here. Goes by the name of Dennis Bartholomew. Some call him Dennis the Menace, after the cartoon character in the boy’s magazines back in the fifties, or maybe it was the sixties, not sure which now. Find an original, and they can be worth money.’
‘Why the nickname?’
‘He’s not into the rough stuff. With him, you sign a contract, sign over your car, jewellery, whatever you’ve got of value. He’ll charge high interest, not as high as some, and with him, it’s a regular beating every few days until you settle. Anyway, that’s when he becomes a menace.’
‘It’s violence, it’s criminal, but our man is much more violent. Break bones, put you in the hospital violent.’
‘There’s one I’ve heard of. Low profile, rarely seen out on the street. I’ve heard him referred to as the lender of last resort.’
‘Nowhere else, that’s where you go?’
‘Tough bastard. I heard of one mug who borrowed heavily from him. He took the money he had made and skipped the country, failed to pay back the loan,’ Eckersley said.
‘What happened?’
‘Rumours, may not be true, maybe that this lender put it about to make sure anyone else who borrowed from him paid up.’
‘Assume they’re true. We believe this individual to be dangerous. He’s already put someone in the hospital.’
‘It could be him. Anyway, the story is that this fool, he came from around here, has got this great idea for an illegal gambling club, high-rollers, no limits. These clubs appear from time to time, make their money and close. The bribes are too high, the security’s a nightmare, and then there are the extortion merchants. Illegal gambling doesn’t always attract the best clientele. The club opens, the guy is pulling in serious money, dealing with those trying to rip him off, breaking a few arms if anyone’s caught cheating. Very soon, he’s got himself two million in cash sitting in a safe in his office, another one and a half shipped out of the country. The lender staked him a quarter of a million, and he wants it back along with the ten per cent per week interest.’
‘Ten per cent per week?’
‘That’s what I said. And he’s not slow to show you what will happen if you borrow, normally some hapless fool on the floor or strung up who hasn’t kept up the payments.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘Someone who came in here, nasty divorce, cleaned him out. He wants to get back into business, the banks are not biting, telling him to go take a running jump. You know what they're like?’
Larry did, having renegotiated his mortgage to accommodate his wife’s plan to buy another house. The manager had sat there, telling him what a privilege it was to be able to help one of our fine police officers, before slapping the offer down on the table. Larry had looked at the proposal, looked at his wife, looked at the bank manager. He knew that he could just about make the payments, although his wife’s reaction to the disappointment if he had not signed, meted out for the next few weeks, he couldn’t. Larry even managed to thank the sanctimonious parasite who had just suckered him into more debt.
‘I know,’ Larry said.
‘This man I’m telling you about. He’d been over to see this person we’re talking about. He’s on the other side of the Thames. The conditions
