Deadly Intent (27 page)

"Just do it, Gordon, and also check out Fitzpatrick's previous boats listed on his Web site. One was a big power cruiser—see who bought it from him."

"Okay, I'll get cracking."

"Thank you!" Anna slammed down the receiver and walked out.

David Rushton's offices were located on Jermyn Street, on the fifth floor of a small, but smart office block. Anna noticed how much security there was, from the CCTV cameras to the double locking device on his reception door. She had to wait to be buzzed in by a receptionist who was very guarded, as Anna did not have an appointment. Anna said she would wait until Mr. Rushton was available.

She sat in the reception area on a gilt-and-leather chair, having a good look around. Mr. Rushton was obviously very successful; numerous smart young men passed to and fro, and two attractive girls, carrying mounds of files, and wearing tight black skirts and high heels clicked past, flicking back their blond hair. Anna was pleased she had taken time dressing. Then she saw Rushton guiding out a young man

in a bomber jacket and jeans. Rushton glanced at Anna and ushered the man out before he acknowledged her.

"Sorry not to have made an appointment," Anna said, standing.

Rushton glanced at his large gold-faced wristwatch and told the receptionist to ask his next client to wait. "I am very busy," he said coldly.

"So am I," Anna said, picking up her briefcase. She was led into a large, comfortable office with a leather sofa and matching armchair. The desk was oak with carved legs; the top was covered in thick glass and rows of telephones. On the walls were many certificates in gold frames, listing Rushton's credentials and awards.

"Do sit down."

"Thank you." Anna perched on a leather chair in front of his desk; Rushton moved around to sit in a large swivel office chair. "We can do this informally here, or at the station. I need verification of exactly how your client Julia Brandon came to be such a wealthy woman."

"That is a preposterous invasion of privacy. Mrs. Brandon pays her taxes; her wealth is no one's business. If you require details of her various companies, then you could do that without my help. Just go to Companies House and check—it is all legitimate."

"We have her bank statements from the time she lived in Oxford."

He shrugged.

"You have given us the name Anthony Collingwood as Mrs. Brandon's previous partner, and told us that he had engineered her finances—is that still correct?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever meet Mr. Collingwood?"

"No."

"But if you never met Mr. Collingwood, how did he do that?"

Rushton sighed. "Telephone, e-mail, fax ... I never knew where he was contacting me from."

"Did this Mr. Collingwood arrange for Mrs. Brandon's finances?"

"Yes. She was left a considerable fortune by him."

"Is he deceased?"

"Not that I am aware of, but my association with Mrs. Brandon is as her financial adviser. We do not have any social connections."

"How did you become her financial adviser?"

"She contacted me. I chink she may have met one or two of my clients."

"When was this?"

He rocked in his chair. "About ten years ago."

"You have handled her fortune since then?"

"That is correct."

"Did she ever disclose where this money had come from?"

"She was given it. but that is really governed by client confidentiality."

"So this very wealthy lady just contacts you?"

"Most of my clients have considerable wealth, some far more than Mrs. Brandon. She required my assistance in protecting her finances."

"From what?"

"Taxes."

"So when Mrs. Brandon contacted you she had what, this money in a bank account?"

"Yes, various accounts."

"We would like access to these accounts."

"They are dormant. I have, as I have already said, as Mrs. Brandon's financial adviser, ensured that her monies are in the most productive and beneficialaccounts. Added to that, her investments are substantial."

Anna crossed her legs. "But didn't you ever inquire where these monies came from?"

"That is not my job. There did not appear to be anything illegal; I am obviously aware that is exacdy what you are trying to imply. All 1 know is Mrs. Brandon was left this fortune, I believe, by a Mr. Collingwood. As I have said, I did not meet him, but he did very early on make contact with me. He basically left everything to Julia and me to deal with."

"You say you are not on social terms with Mrs. Brandon?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"Then why did she contact you, before anyone else, to be with her at the mortuary to identify her husband, the late Mr. Frank Brandon?"

He shrugged.

"She appeared to be very dependent on you, and you were very protective of her."

"Under the circumstances, that is understandable; her husband had just been murdered."

"You also arranged a substantial life insurance policy for Mr. Brandon."

"Yes," he hissed angrily.

"Why did you do that?"

"I also arrange her house insurance and pay her household bills, so therefore it would only be natural that she would approach me with regard to her husband. Again, this was all done in the proper manner, with medical tests, et cetera."

"But why would she want her husband to have such a large life insurance policy?"

"It may appear to be a large amount to you, but it isn't. Her children also have life insurance policies, as does she."

"Her children?"

"Mrs. Brandon travels a lot; they all have medical insurance. This really is a waste of my time. I truthfully cannot understand why you want to know about my client's insurance policies."

"Because her husband was murdered."

"And Mrs. Brandon had nothing whatsoever to do with that tragic event."

"What is she afraid of?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I said, what is Mrs. Brandon afraid of?"

"I really couldn't say, but if her husband was murdered, perhaps she is fearful for herself and her daughters."

"Mr. Brandon was working as a chauffeur when they met."

"I believe so."

"He was also acting as a bodyguard?"

"I believe so."

"Why do you think she required a bodyguard?"

Rushton sighed. "She has a lot of money, she has valuable jewelry, she is a careful lady and very protective of her family. In this day and

age, I can't really see that it is unusual—far from it. The fact that Julia then married Mr. Brandon is her private business."

"Not approved by you?"

"I never said that. I had only one meeting with him and he seemed a very pleasant man, very caring."

"Did you meet her sister?" "No."

"Her sister's husband. Professor Damien Nolan?"

"No—my relationship with Mrs. Brandon was, as I have stated, purely a business one."

"Had she recently asked for any of her monies to be released?"

For the first time, she saw a flicker of hesitation. "Mrs. Brandon's finances arc carefully constructed. To take out any lump sum—any large amount—would take time."

"Did she ask for any large sums?"

Again, there was hesitation. Eventually, he conceded that Julia had asked him to release some money. He explained that he had warned her that she would lose a considerable amount by withdrawing money from the companies.

"How much?"

He was uneasy, loosening his tie. "I advised her not to do so."

Anna had taken enough of the pompous man's attitude and she leaned forward. "Mr. Rushton. you know I can get this information and I could also get a warrant..."

"That won't be necessary," he said immediately. Picking up the phone, he asked for Mrs. Brandon's file to be brought in. He then went to a water fountain and poured himself a small cup of water.

Anna could see he was sweating. One of the blondes she had seen pass in the reception area tapped and entered, carrying a file; she put it down on his desk.

He waited until she had left before he opened it." As I said, I advised Mrs. Brandon against withdrawing any monies, particularly as I have spent many years building up her profile so she would live comfortably off her substantial investments."

Anna waited as he sifted through the file and eventually withdrew two sheets of paper. He put on his glasses and read through the information. "Mrs. Brandon requested two substantial withdrawals. The first was nine months ago."

"How much?"

"Four million."

Anna sat back, stunned. "The next?" she asked quietly.

"Six months ago, she requested a further two million. I was unable to complete the transaction."

"Why?"

"It was actually a mutual decision."

"Did she say why she needed this amount of money?"

"No. she did not."

"Didn't you ask her? It's a lot of money."

"I obviously said that it was not advisable, as I have explained, and she then agreed with me."

Anna leaned back in her chair, trying to calculate the time frame of when Julia married Frank Brandon. It added up: she was married to Frank around the time of the second request for money.

"So when she agreed not to go ahead with the next withdrawal, did she seem worried? I mean, are you saying she never explained to you why she would want so much money released? I presume it was cash?"

"Yes, cash, but she did not disclose to me why she needed the money. I don't recall her being worried, though."

"Did she at any time say to you that the fortune she had when she came to you as a client was not actually hers?"

"No, of course not."

"But would it be possible that the sums she had accrued did not actually belong to her, but were someone else's? That she may have just been looking after them?"

"She did not at any time give me reason to believe that her money was not left to her by her ex-partner. She simply said that it was to take care of her and her children." "But when she first came to see you, she did not have children!"

She'd got him again; he loosened his tie as if it was throttling him. "It was obviously after her relationship with her partner had broken down and she was very distressed about it."

"How much of Mrs. Brandon's money was in cash when she first approached you, Mr. Rushton?"

He swallowed. After a beat, he said he recalled that there was a considerable amount in cash, but he could not recall the exact sum.

By now, Anna had heard enough to gain a warrant for access to Julia Brandon's accounts and business dealings. Mr. Rushton knew he could be in a shedload of trouble; he was a very different man ushering her out. He was sweating and exceedingly nervous, repeating that he had never done anything illegal and if necessary he could prove it.

"I am sure you can, Mr. Rushton. Thank you so much for your time."

Anna was buzzing as she collected her car from a meter a short distance away from Rushton's office. It was after eleven, but she decided she would drive straight to Julia Brandon's home in Wimbledon. Phil had spent two hours with the Drug Squad, sifting through all the known dealers arrested from the Chalk Farm area. They were mostly young kids. They had on record a previous bust of the squats over a year ago. Phil had to tread on eggshells as he questioned the squad about how the squat, even after a bust, was still active when the murder had occurred. He was told that they no sooner cleaned up a squat on the estate and boarded up the flat, than within weeks another group had set up dealing. The empty high-rise blocks earmarked for demolition were anathema to the squad. They thought that the area had been used by heavy dealers of heroin and cocaine, but they could not be certain.The flood of class-A drugs coming onto the streets was a constant nightmare. Phil asked if any of them had ever come into contact with, or knew, the infamous Alexander Fitzpatrick. He virtually got a repetition of his own feelings. The Drug Squad knew of Fitzpatrick, but queried why such a kingpin would bother with a small-time drug squat. They doubted he would have been there, and doubted that he was even in the country. Rumor had it that Fifepatrick had upped his drug trafficking in the U.S. and was stashing millions, working with cartels in Colombia—that was, if he was still active. They doubted it: he was still on the USA's Most Wanted list. More than likely, Fitzpatrick was sunbathing on some glamorous yacht in Barbados. As he would be around sixty odd, he might have retired from the high life. They wondered if he was living in Spain, or even the Philippines. There had been no sighting of him for over twenty years. They also knew the man had numerous aliases, and more properties than even he could probably count. Phil left as they started swapping stories about the audacious Fitzpatrick.