CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
"Double six," said Toby. He marched his men round the backgammon board, knocking off one of Sally's counters and bearing off his last man. "All home. I win again. That makes three million, six hundred thousand pounds that you owe me."
"I'll give you a cheque sometime, unless you want another game. I might win it all back."
The rain lashed on the window, as the storm that had raged all night made its final efforts to impart structural damage on the south coast. From the doorway to the kitchen came the pleasantly domestic sounds of Winner making a chocolate sponge cake.
"OK. Just one more, then Dad should be free to play something with us."
They had just started into the game when the oven door clunked shut and Winner came into the room, his hands behind his back as he untied his seagull print apron.
"I've put it on the timer," he told them, then sat down and looked through the Friday evening edition of the Sharmouth Daily News. At one time he had only bought the paper on odd occasions and even then it had often been thrown away only half read, but now he was a regular buyer, willing to spend the time to keep up to date with everything that was going on in the area. He was coming to admire the talents of the editorial staff, who managed to create some sort of news, even when it was obvious that there wasn't really any. The main sources of information were the police and fire brigade, the Magistrates' Court and the Council, so it wasn't surprising that the paper had picked up on the redundancies at the Town Hall and was featuring various staff who were leaving after years of service. Winner ringed a small article which was linked to an advertisement for a temporary exhibition of plans for the new superstore, to be held in the lobby of the public library for the next week.
"We ought to have a look at that," he said, telling them about the article. "What makes you think the newspaper staff have decided to be supportive? Could it be the description of 'exciting new proposals for a much needed new development, offering top class shopping facilities and valuable new jobs'?"
Sally laughed. "You wouldn't be getting cynical, would you? I'm not sure I want to go today."
A fresh blast of rain roared against the window.
"This will all be over by lunch-time," said Winner. "At least, that's the forecast. We could go to the library to see the plans, then linger a while in the Crescent. It might be dry enough for a walk by the river."
"That's three million, nine hundred and eighty thousand you owe me now," said Toby.
"That's all right," said Sally. "We can call it the round four million. I think we'd better stop there. I can only take a certain amount of humiliation in one day."
Toby stood up and went over to the window. "It'll stop soon," he said.
A thin line of bright light was breaking through along the far horizon. Although it was still raining hard, the sea in the distance was looking less rough. The buzzer on the oven timer sounded, and Winner went to take out the cake. In the few minutes before he came back into the room, the light on the horizon had turned into a strip of clear blue sky that was broadening by the minute.
By the time they had heated and eaten some vegetable soup with cheese and bread rolls, the advancing blue sky had reached Sharmouth, and for a while a spectacular rainbow was visible from the kitchen window. The sun shone down through a sky scrubbed clean by the rain, so that the view of the coastline was for once startlingly sharp. Winner made up some chocolate buttercream and filled the cake, while Sally cleared away the lunch things.
"There you are, then," he said, as he ran his finger round the scraped-out mixing bowl. "The sun's shining, as promised. We'll be able to walk down into the town. Us sedentary types should always try to get some exercise. Good for the heart and circulation, you know." He licked the large blob of buttery filling off his finger.
The decision to walk turned out to be a good one, because the main road into Sharmouth was partially blocked by a gang of Council employees with chainsaws, slicing their way into a large beech tree that had succumbed to the storm force winds, destroying a garden wall and a parked Metro in the process. A man with a red and green stop/go sign was doing his best, but the traffic tailed back up the hill. Even on the pavement the three of them had to side-step a variety of broken branches, leaves and soil that had been washed out of driveways.
The library was quiet, perhaps because of the earlier weather, or maybe because the potential patrons were still stuck in the traffic jam. There were only three other people looking round the static display boards in the lobby. Toby went to look at the aerial view of Sharmouth to see if he could spot his house and Winner's flat. Sally and Winner looked at the artist's impression of the finished buildings.
"Look at this," said Sally, pointing at the bottom right hand corner of the board. "That's our man, there in the middle of the list of directors. Michael Farrier."
"I wonder if he's the only one in the company who's in league with Cavendish."
"That's what we don't know. We can't tell whether Cavendish is conspiring with this man Farrier to cheat the company, or whether Cavendish is conspiring with the whole company to cheat the Council."
"Don't forget," said Winner, "it's the company that has the money to spend. I can't imagine they would pay Cavendish a huge sum just to influence a planning decision. They would spread their money around, so that enough members would be persuaded to vote in favour. Besides, I'm not sure they're going to have too much trouble getting a positive decision anyway. There are a few councillors against the scheme, it's true. They don't want to see the shoppers disappear from the town centre. Most of the members see it as inevitable that we'll get a development like this some time, and this one looks reasonable."
"I'd probably do my food shopping there," said Sally, "so I can't say I'd vote against it myself. The food shops in Sharmouth don't offer much choice. Don't look too quickly, but the man filling up the leaflet dispenser is the man I was talking about. John Riggs, the man I saw coming out of the Sharmouth Daily News offices."
Sally had lowered her voice when she spotted Riggs, but he must have half heard the mention of his name, because he immediately looked in their direction. She looked away as he glanced across, but she thought she detected a slight frown on his face, as if he was trying to place where he had seen her before. Winner had already turned to look, and he found Riggs staring straight at him. He shifted his gaze slightly, making as though he was ready to turn his attention to another of the display boards. They moved over to join Toby at the aerial photo and were soon pointing out the various Sharmouth landmarks to each other. When Winner turned to move on to the road layout plan there was no sign of Riggs.
"He went out of the main door," Sally told Winner, when she saw him looking around. "I think he must have dropped in to check that the display was satisfactory."
"I've seen him somewhere, but I can't think when," said Winner.
"Look, Dad. They're going to build a new roundabout on the ring road."
"That's right. It's a big business, so they'll be expecting a lot of traffic. They'll probably have to pay for all the roadworks themselves."
"Is it worth going on to the Crescent, now that we've seen JR?" Sally asked.
"Yes, I think so, just to be absolutely sure that it is him. It's important, because it would prove another link between Cavendish and the developers. If Riggs is looking after this display, he must have some connection with the developers."
"I almost felt he recognised me. I must have rather stared at him when I came out of the newspaper offices."
"That doesn't mean he knows who you are. I felt he was staring at me as well, but I might have imagined it. We'll keep a good distance away when we're outside Cavendish's offices."
Winner looked at his watch. It was twenty to three. Time to be setting off for the five minute walk to The Crescent.
There were just a few small shops on the side of the High Street opposite The Crescent. It was about the limit of the main shopping zone, but apparently
it was a busy enough area to support a small tea-room. It was a bit of luck that the window table was just being cleared when the three of them walked in. They settled into the chairs and Winner was pleased to find that he had a clear view of the doorway to the offices, unobstructed by the shrubbery and parked cars that would have blocked the line of sight from almost any other angle. Sally ordered a pot of tea for two and a Coke and a sticky bun for Toby.
"Why have we come here?" Toby asked.
"Just a bit of detective work. We're looking out for the man we saw at the library."
"Are you following him?"
"You know that I'm an auditor for the Council, as well as an accountant," Sally told him. "That means I have to do a bit of checking up on people from time to time. I'd rather he didn't see us watching him."
Winner kept watch on the doorway while Sally poured out the tea. An elderly man and woman got into the car parked in front of the tea-shop and drove away, leaving a space in the one hour parking zone. After a few minutes a dark blue BMW pulled up just beyond the space and its reversing lights went on. Winner was a bit annoyed, because it was a bigger car and might obscure his view. It was getting very close to three o'clock. The car manoeuvred backwards and forwards to tuck up close to the kerb, stopping in a position where Winner could still see the office doorway if he leant forward slightly. A moment later the door on the far side of the car opened and Riggs himself got out. He looked down to lock the car, but when he looked up he was facing directly into the tea-rooms.
Winner pretended to study the menu, not daring to risk another face to face stare. Sally had seen him as well and found herself with a sudden need to rummage around in her handbag. Toby was oblivious to the arrival of Riggs, being intent on the consumption of a large currant bun, but his spiky head of blond hair must have advertised his presence at the window table. Squinting sideways, Winner saw Riggs pause, taking in the scene, then he crossed the road and cut through the small park area to the doorway which led to the offices.
"Drink up," he said. "I'd rather not be here when Mr Riggs comes back for his car."
Winner paid the bill while Toby stuffed the last of the sticky bun into his mouth. Less than five minutes later they were walking along the High Street towards the riverfront. A net curtain on the third floor of The Crescent moved slightly as their departure was observed.
"That was awful," said Sally. "I never expected him to park directly in front of us."
"I suppose he must have seen us, though it's possible the shop window glass may have reflected the cars in the road."
"I don't think so, unless he was admiring himself in the reflection. He was looking directly at us."
"Worse than that, he could have been looking at us in the time between parking his car and getting out. Remember, we couldn't see into the car because of the tinted windows."
"Well, what does it matter if he did see us?" asked Sally. "It could easily have been a coincidence from his point of view."
"It just means that we may no longer be anonymous. We've been asking a few questions about Cavendish and companies that we think he's linked to. Before long they'll be getting some feedback from various people and putting two and two together. If I were you, I wouldn't go off down any dark alleyways on my own."
"At least we've proved the link between the developers and Cavendish."
Winner walked on in silence, his mind trying to place where he had seen Riggs before. It definitely wasn't at the presentation, which was not surprising, since Riggs would be unlikely to want to demonstrate his involvement publicly. Somehow it was the moment of first sight in the public library when Riggs had responded with a surprised stare that seemed to trigger recognition. That was it. An impression of a face frozen in time like a photograph.
Up on the third floor, Cavendish was sitting at his desk, while Riggs stayed at the window, surveying the street below.
"Are you sure they were watching you?" Cavendish asked, his fingers steepled as he leant his elbows on the desk.
"Not a hundred percent, but it was a strange series of encounters if they weren't. I think it was just a chance meeting at the Daily News and I'm not sure about when I saw them in the library, but then when I saw them staring out of the tea-shop I was sure it was me they were interested in. The worst of it is, I've no idea who they are."
"It's just as well you sprinted up the stairs as fast as you did. You'll be pleased to learn that I recognised him at once when you pointed them out, though I'm not so sure about the woman. His name is Winner. He's one of Westerman's top people. I've seen his companion in the corridors at the Town Hall, so I'm sure she works for the Council as well. The question is, are they acting in an official capacity for the Council? - or are they trying to piece together the facts to try and step into that man Stewart's shoes?"
Riggs stepped away from the window and sat down on the sofa, surprised as ever by the solidity of the upholstery.
"How did they know I was coming here? They were already sitting there looking out for me when I arrived."
"Winner must have had a brief look in my diary in the Chief Executive's office. Don't worry, he can only have had the briefest of looks at it. He probably saw just the page with this appointment on. I only noted down your initials, so I doubt that he even knows your name."
"I'm not so confident. That was what drew my attention to them when we were in the library. I'm sure I heard the woman mention my name."
Cavendish sat back in his chair and thought for a while.
"If it's official," he said eventually, "we just lie low and deny any accusations. They won't have a lot of evidence and there's nothing to be gained from us taking personal action against these two people. If they've decided on private enterprise, they'll probably keep any documents at home rather than at the Town Hall. We never did find anything among Stewart's stuff, so it looks now as though Winner got there before us. If I find out who the woman is and where they both live, perhaps you could obtain access to their house or houses and see if you can find anything. If you did it discreetly during working hours they might not even be aware that we were on to them."
"What then?" asked Riggs.
"If we find they're collecting evidence against us, it might be appropriate if we organised something to warn them off. We must tread carefully. Let's get the facts before we do anything that we might regret."
Down on the quayside, Winner was pointing out Cavendish's motor boat to Sally and Toby.
"You've hardly said a word since we left the tea-rooms," said Sally. "What's on your mind?"
"I'm still trying to place Riggs. I don't think it was very long ago that I saw him. Come on, we'd better start back, or Lorraine will be there to collect Toby before we get home."
They were almost back at the flat when he finally remembered.
"The roof."
As Winner had not spoken for the previous five minutes, Sally was momentarily taken back by these first words. "What are you talking about.?"
"The roof. That was where I saw Riggs. He was the man who looked out through the window and realised there was someone outside. In all probability he's the one who chased me across the slates."
"Would he have remembered you?"
"No, he was in the light of a table lamp, but I was in the dark. He could only have seen my outline."
"That's one more thing we know about Mr Riggs, then. Not only is he associated with Cavendish, but he's also quite happy to do a bit of illegal entering into premises when it suits him."
"Let's hope he doesn't know who we are. He may also be the person who arranges convenient accidents for people who try to upset Cavendish's plans."