This was the difficult bit and how to adequately explain the multifaceted parts was still troubling Albert. Did he start where his story began – with the mugging? Or should he start where his suspicions arose?
‘The thefts from the museum which I asked you to keep in mind, they were all low value items such as photographs, historical documents and early examples of the tins Yorkshire puddings were made in. No thief on the planet would bother stealing them. However, also missing were items of greater value: a computer, a new office printer, and more. The theft of the lower value items was meant to make the police believe a thief had chosen to target the museum when in fact the curator was selling them.’ Albert got a lot of surprised or confused looks in response to his allegation. ‘On his desk, I found a note. It was hard to decipher but I believe Warren Bradley, who I first saw in the alleyway near the station when Alan Crystal was mugged, was acting as the enforcer for a loan shark.’ He swung his attention to the man in question, who was standing between Jones and Washington with his arms cuffed behind his back. ‘Was it gambling debt, Alan? Or something else?’
Alan was looking at the floor, and for a moment Albert didn’t think he was going to answer. When he mumbled something, CI Doyle insisted he speak up, and Alan shouted for all to hear, ‘It was gambling debt! Okay? I love the horses. The damned nags keep beating the odds though.’ He sounded grumpy about his run of bad luck, missing the point that he could have just stopped laying bets at any point instead of trying to gamble his way out of trouble.
‘The odds,’ Albert commented. ‘That was what beat you, huh? So you decided to bet on a result you could control.’ Addressing his audience, Albert explained. ‘Alan Crystal needed money to pay off debts and he got desperate enough that he concocted the whole event around him beating the odds. He decided in advance who was going to win and then set out to make as much money from his prior knowledge as possible. He didn’t have any money though and his lenders had lost faith. They wanted their money back, so he agreed to pay them and arranged a meeting with Warren Bradley.’
‘The mugging,’ Gary concluded.
Albert nodded, watching Lee Oliver’s face turn white. ‘Yes. Alan was on his way to an arranged meeting but never planned to hand over the money he owed. He stole his own computer and printer, selling them to get some cash, and covering the crime up by stealing artefacts from around the museum.’
A snort of despair escaped Alan’s nose. ‘How do you know that?’
Albert gave him a level stare. ‘Did you throw the things away, or did you have some conscience as the museum curator and merely store them in your house?’
Alan’s shoulder sagged, knowing it was too late to bother bluffing or lying now. ‘The garage,’ he admitted sadly.
‘Of course, selling a few items wasn’t enough to give him the kind of cash he needed. He took bribes from those contestants he believed would see the benefit of making it through the heats to the final. He could have used that cash to pay off his debt, but then I don’t know how far in the hole he was. The note on his desk was confusing at first, until I thought about the accusations of rigging an event. If you knew in advance the outcome of a sporting event you could place a bet on, how much money would you wager?’
He didn’t need an answer, the faces around him said it all: they would bet every penny they had and maybe then some more they didn’t have.
‘Alan couldn’t get great odds on the outcome of the competition. It was only on the bookkeepers’ radar because Ethan Bentley’s people have been hyping it as a marketing strategy to get interest going before the launch of the new product. The odds were short, but what if he tied the outcome to another event? If I have deciphered the note correctly, he got odds of a hundred to one and I think he combined guessing the right winner of the baking competition with the world record being broken. He took two thousand pounds from each of the contestants that agreed to pay it. Let’s assume that was all of those in the final. That’s twenty thousand, placed on a bet at a hundred to one.’
‘That’s two million pounds,’ whistled Gary. ‘Enough motivation for most.’
‘It was all set up, and he knew he could get away with it. But the lenders were breathing down his neck so he set up the meeting with their enforcer, Warren Bradley, and got Lee Oliver to help him stage a mugging. He needed the lenders to believe he was genuinely trying to pay them back. Tell me, Alan, did you think they would give you extra time?’
He shrugged. ‘I thought they might let me off.’ His admission made those listening laugh.
‘He hadn’t counted on me showing up with Rex. What was it he promised you?’ he asked the Olivers. ‘First prize in the competition?’
The police officers could tell by the suspects’ faces that the old man was right on the money.
Chief Inspector Doyle picked up the story. ‘He took bribes to get them into the final but when Warren grabbed him outside, another judge stepped in to award the prizes and gave it to those most deserving, not those who had paid.’
‘Hence the complaint from Mr Nelson,’ Gary concluded.
‘It was going wrong before that,’ Albert reminded them. ‘Mr Ross knew he was a serious contender but knowing he was going to win, Mr Oliver foolishly
