The Borough

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Miles Cavendish stood at the long picture windows on the south western side of his music room, looking down through the trees to the estuary below. Everything seemed to be working out all right. The money would be arriving tomorrow night, and it was just a minor inconvenience that he had the dinner engagement. The next day the Council would approve the Planning Committee minutes and the land sale would go through. Mr Farrier would meet with an unfortunate accident, but not before the funds for the sale had been transferred.

  He strolled over to the piano and sat at the keyboard, his fingers automatically taking him into the opening bars of his favourite Beethoven sonata. A few moments later there was a discreet knock at the door and Riggs appeared. He walked over and sat in the easy chair at the side of the piano.

  "And what have you to report?" Cavendish asked, not breaking from the music.

  "Everything going according to plan. I get the last of the cash today and I'll bring it over at seven o'clock tomorrow. Where will you want me to put it?"

  "It can just go in my study. It's only going to be here for one night. The house is pretty secure."

  "I won't be able to stay here with it myself while you're out. I need a dress rehearsal for Mr Farrier. You're quite happy that we weren't overheard when we were on La Mouette?"

  "We've been over all that before. It can't have been Winner, he stayed in all night. It wasn't his lady friend either, because she came back with her hair and clothes neat and dry, wherever she'd been. I can only think that we almost caught a thief who was looking for pickings from the boats. He couldn't have heard anything. I couldn't hear you talking when I sat outside. No, I'm sure that it was entirely un-connected with our business. Besides there hasn't been any suggestion of Mr Winner interfering since you spoke to him."

  "I hope you're right. Do you want to know what we have in store for Mr Farrier?"

  "I trust your judgement, but I can see you're keen to tell me."

  "A variation on a theme, really. He lives in a rather remote spot. The approach road is only used by about one car an hour and it goes over a wooden bridge section. There's every chance it might collapse from under him."

  "Splendid, but are you sure that will kill him?"

  "It should do, it's quite a drop. If it doesn't, we'll finish him off. We'll try to make it look like an accident, but if the police suspect otherwise, where are they going to start looking? He doesn't have any connection with us at all."

  "No, that's true. Just be careful nobody sees you."

  "When exactly do you want us to get him? It would be safest in the dark, if possible."

  "If I show him the money tomorrow night when I get back from the dinner, he won't be worried about it not existing. The Council meeting should be over by mid afternoon the next day, but that might be too late for Farrier's company to get the funds transferred for the land purchase. I'll promise to take over the cash in the evening on the day after the Council meeting. That way he'll have to go home. You'll just have to have him watched at his office to find out what time he leaves."

  Two miles away at the Town Hall, Councillor Parker had just stepped into the Chief Executive's office. Charles Forbes stood up to greet him.

  "Good afternoon, Councillor. You know Mr Westerman, of course?"

  Parker was puzzled. What interest would the Treasurer have in the Mayoral Dinner arrangements?

  "Come and sit down, Councillor," said Westerman. "I'll just organise a pot of tea."

  By the time Westerman came back from the secretary's office, Forbes and Parker were seated at the table. In accordance with their agreed strategy, Westerman sat down to one side, so that Parker could not look at both of them at once.

  Let me start with an admission," said Forbes. "We didn't get you here to talk about the Mayoral Dinner. The true purpose of this meeting is a rather more serious matter, and I didn't want to risk saying anything that might have put you off coming."

  Parker frowned slightly. "Ah, how can I help you then?"

  "It's a rather delicate matter."

  "Yes, I'd agree with that," said Westerman, causing Parker to twist his head round.

  "There's been a suggestion," said Forbes, "that some Councillors have failed to properly declare interests when they should."

  "Really. That would be a serious matter. If I can help you to find out anything about it, I'll certainly do what I can."

  Westerman noticed that Parker was keeping his hands together in his lap to avoid an impression of fidgeting, but his knuckles were white with tension.

  "Actually, Councillor, the suggestion was that you yourself might have failed to declare an interest."

  "Me? Where on earth would you get an idea like that? I don't have any substantial assets or business interests. Certainly nothing that touches on my Council duties."

  "So you can give me your word that you haven't broken the rules?"

  "Absolutely. Categorically."

  "Forgive me for mentioning it, Councillor, but you do seem to be going a bit red in the face. I hope you're not angry that I've had to ask you the question."

  "No, of course not."

  "Please believe me when I say how relieved I am that you're not involved."

  "Yes, of course. I'm sure there's just been some simple misunderstanding."

  Forbes pressed on. "I hate to ask anyone to speculate upon the honesty of others, but there have been some rather serious accusations made. Can you tell me if you have heard any talk of improper conduct among your fellow members? - or indeed senior staff?"

  Parker relaxed slightly, relieved that the questioning appeared to be heading off in a less personally threatening direction. "No, nothing of any substance."

  There was a soft knock on the door and the Chief Executive's secretary came in with a tray of teas. There was a break in the interview as she gave each of them their cup. Parker left his untouched on the table.

  "Perhaps I can help by being a little more specific," said Forbes, when they were once again alone. It's been suggested that Councillor Cavendish might have failed to declare an interest."

  "I know nothing of that." .

  "You often seem to support Councillor Cavendish and follow his lead in voting."

  Parker's face was gradually turning a deeper shade.

  "I find his arguments convincing. We're of the same political persuasion. It's not surprising that I often vote the same way as him."

  "What do you know of his business interests?"

  "Nothing, really. I've always assumed him to be a man of independent means."

  The questions fenced around Parker's relationship with Cavendish, but beyond cornering him into admitting that he had been to Cavendish's house, Forbes was beginning to think that Parker might not be the weak link that they could exploit. They sat in silence for a few moments. It was looking as though Forbes would have to bring the meeting to an unsatisfactory close, but Westerman had one more question.

  "So why was Councillor Cavendish giving you money?"

  Even Forbes looked startled by the question. He was about to say something, but then he saw Parker's reaction. His face was deeply flushed, a vein in his throat throbbing visibly.

  "What money?" Parker's voice was unsteady.

  "We know all about Cavendish giving you money," said Westerman, confident that he had chanced on the truth.

  Parker put his hands to his face and leaned forward onto the table.

  "I haven't done anything wrong. I would have voted the same way, even if he hadn't given me anything. It didn't change a thing."

  "So that was the agreement. Cavendish gave you money, then from time to time he asked you to vote in a particular way."

  "That makes it sound awful. He's only talked to me about a couple of items and it was easy to agree, because I would have voted the same way even if he hadn't mentioned it."

  "Perhaps there's not been any damage done, Councillor," said Forbes, "but don't you see t
hat if he's given you money he'll expect you to go along with him in future on other matters? You can't be sure it will always fit in with your political views, can you?"

  "All right, I've been foolish. It's not like you think, though. Until recently I would have sworn on oath that I'd done nothing wrong. It started so innocently. Cavendish somehow learned that I was in some financial difficulties and offered to help me out. Nothing to do with the Council, just a personal favour. He said I could pay it back any time and I was just to treat it as a personal flexible loan. He obviously wasn't really expecting it to be repaid. I just took it as a rather eccentric gesture on his part. One that he could indulge easily, mind you. A few hundred pounds means a lot to me, but it's nothing to him, he must have millions."

  "And then after a while he started putting a little pressure on?"

  "Oh, it's easy to see now how I was sucked into it. He was very clever."

  "If what you say is true, you should be glad that the arrangements have been exposed early on," said Forbes. "You could have found yourself in a much more serious situation in future. The safest thing you can do is tell me everything you know. We're not trying to destroy you, we're trying to get to the bottom of what Mr Cavendish is up to."

  "All right, I'll tell you, but for God's sake don't tell him what I've said. For all I know, he's a killer."

  "You'd better start from the beginning." Forbes signalled to Westerman to take notes.

  "For some reason he's desperate to make sure that the superstore planning permission gets voted through, but I honestly don't know why. He must have some interest in the site or the development. He persuaded me to speak in favour and vote for it, but I would have voted in favour anyway. You remember the young man in the Treasury who died in that horrible crash over the cliffs? Cavendish said he had been poking his nose into his business. Said he thought he had uncovered some dirt on Cavendish and was trying to blackmail him. He said the crash was a lucky accident. I asked if he was sure it was an accident and he swore it was, but..."

  "You're not so sure?"

  "After the crash Cavendish sent his henchman Riggs in to the young man's house and his office to see what he could find, but I gather he didn't find anything, or at least Cavendish said he didn't. You probably remember there were some mystery people seen on the Town Hall roof."

  Parker talked on for a while, though it was clear he knew very little beyond the bare details he had come up with. When he had finished, Forbes gave him some advice.

  "You've already admitted that you've been rather foolish, Councillor. I suggest you say nothing of this to anyone while we look into Councillor Cavendish's affairs. I can't say what will happen from a legal point of view, but I'm sure you realise you will have to resign. Don't do anything about that until I get in touch with you. You'd better be at home ill on the day of the Council. I couldn't let you vote after what you've told me."

  "Stupid man," said Forbes, after Parker had gone. "How did you know Cavendish had been paying him?"

  "Just a guess really. As he said, he doesn't have enough wealth to have interests of his own to conceal. That meant he must be protecting someone else's."

  "It was a bit of a surprise, what he told us. Not quite the same as Sanderman's story."

  "Perhaps what Sanderman told us was yesterday's news. It could still be true."

  "I don't like it. He as good as accused Cavendish of murdering Stewart."

  "What next?" asked Westerman.

  "We call in the police."