“Familiar story,” Larry said.
“I’m sure it is, to you. Cyril had a gambling habit. Couldn’t stop. Each bet was going to get him the big win that solved his problem and of course it didn’t happen. He ended up with the loan sharks.”
“My heart bleeds.” He went back to practising his shots.
“Did he borrow anything from you?”
“Do I look like a man who lends money?”
“He seemed to think he had to pay you back.”
“That’s another matter,” Larry said. “Some people need reminding. I’ve been known to knock on doors on behalf of my friends.”
“As an enforcer.”
He struck the ball with such force that it hit the far cushion and ricocheted around the table. “That’s not a word I recognise.”
“What do you call yourself, then?”
“I don’t like labels. I’m more of a financial adviser than anything else.”
“Advising them to pay up or else?”
“Helping slow payers face up to their obligations, that’s all. You wouldn’t believe how disorganised some of them are.”
Larry Lincoln’s black humour wasn’t lost on Diamond, but it would have been unwise to show any amusement. “Did you visit Cyril?”
“Who is this Cyril?”
“I just gave you his name-Hardstaff. An old guy living in Little Langford.”
“He died,” Larry said, and added after a pause, “of old age.”
“So you know who he was. We’re getting somewhere.”
“All I know is I wrote off the debt. That’s the risk you take with old people.”
“His housekeeper seemed to think you would turn up any time, so you must have had dealings.”
“I may have held a paper on him, that’s all.”
“You don’t lend money, but you collect?”
The red missed the pocket.
Larry said, “You’re putting me off my game.”
“I want an answer.”
“Hardstaff was small fry, just a name to me.”
Diamond wasn’t letting him off so easily. “You can do better than that, Larry. Financial advisers keep tabs on everything or they soon go out of business.”
“So I’ll have to consult my records, won’t I?”
“I can do that for you,” Diamond said, trading some sarcasm of his own. “I can send a vanload of coppers to your nice house on Lansdown tomorrow morning and batter your door down.”
Larry appeared to be untroubled. “You’ll need a warrant,” he said, straightening up and chalking the tip of his cue. “This was legal, so you can’t touch me. The business came my way after a mate of mine dropped off the perch. I took on his paperwork as collateral for some favours he owed me. It brought nothing but death and disappointment, and I’m glad to be shot of it.”
“Which mate was that?”
“Bob Sabin. Lovely guy.” He leaned over the table again and lined up his next shot. “Lend you his last penny, he would-and demand it back with interest.”
Delighted to have got the name so easily, Diamond said, “I remember Bob Sabin. Didn’t he have a grand funeral at the Abbey three or four years back, with a horse-drawn hearse? Black plumes on the horses’ heads?”
“Of course you bloody remember. You were there. Every copper in Bath was there, catching it all on video. The biggest gathering of the firm I can remember. They came from all over to pay their respects. Some of those wreaths were bigger than I am. ‘Bob’s Your Uncle’ one of them said and another was ‘Bob a Job.’ He would have liked that. He did a few jobs in his time.”
“Bank jobs?”
“Contract jobs, bucket jobs, container jobs, you name it.”
“What’s a container job?”
“Illegals.”
“Got you. Trafficking.”
“Personally, I wouldn’t touch it. Big returns, but when things go wrong it can be messy, real messy.”
He didn’t need to say more. Diamond knew of two men and a woman believed to be illegal immigrants found dead in the canal over the last year. For all the ironies, some significant truths were emerging in this conversation.
“Did you inherit Bob Sabin’s empire, then?”
Lincoln laughed enough to shake the bottles downstairs. “No chance. All I got was a small list of names. The plums went to his nearest and dearest and I don’t mean his wife, Dilly. There’s no sentiment in our business. She ended up with the Rottweilers and not much else.”
“I don’t remember Dilly. Was she a token wife?”
“You mean some airhead model? No, she was the real deal. They were together a few years. No kids. She liked her holidays and her parties and the indoor pool. She should have looked out for number one. She was given the double-shuffle.”
“Who were his nearest and dearest, as you put it?”
“His trusties. I’m not naming anyone. You work it out.”
“You made sure you got your share.”
“Like I said, he owed me.”
“You took on the debts of Cyril Hardstaff and some others who were in hock to Sabin. How much did Hardstaff owe?”
“Peanuts.”
“Five figures?”
“Not much over.”
“He came up with some of it before he died, didn’t he?”
“Dribs and drabs. Nothing to speak of.”
“How was it paid? In cash, but not in person, I take it?” Enforcers like Larry had risk-free arrangements.
“Yep.”
“Did you know where it was coming from?”
“Not my problem.”
“But there was still plenty owing when he died-plenty by his standards, I mean?”
“Like I said, I took a hit. Shit happens.”
In the business of police interrogation, you soon spot the deception and obfuscation. All in all, Larry had been more candid than Diamond expected. This was because he was confident he was untouchable.
“Just to be clear. You didn’t ever visit Cyril?”
A shake of the head.
“Bob Sabin would have met him?”
“Before my time.”
“Remind me, Larry. What did Sabin die of?”
“I’m not his fucking doctor. All I know is he went peacefully.”
19
There was a voicemail on Diamond’s phone.
Unusual.
He never encouraged the team to call him and Paloma was the only other person who had his number-or so he believed.
This was Georgina. “Peter, it would help if you kept me informed where you are when you’re out of the building. Contact me as a matter of urgency.”
Every summons from the ACC was a matter of urgency. One day she would ask him to call her in his own good time and he would be so shocked he’d be on the line at once. He deleted the message and then noticed there was another.
Georgina again, but speaking through clenched teeth by the sound of it. “Didn’t you get my earlier message? It’s vital that you get in touch immediately.”
It had been a demanding day so far. He’d diverted to Kingsmead Square and treated himself to coffee and lemon drizzle cake in the Boston Tea Party. Immediately? Immediately after he’d finished his cappuccino.
“Where have you been?” she demanded when he finally got through. “I almost sent out a search party.”
“The Techie Brekkie.”
“The what?”
He repeated it and added archly, “Networking with some of my IT contacts. How can I help?”
She was muttering inaudible things. When she became coherent she said, “We heard from the hospital early this morning. Mr. Pellegrini, the accident victim, opened his eyes.”
“Get away!”
A real matter of urgency.
“One of the night nurses reported it. They’re thrilled. It’s the first sign of life that hasn’t been induced. He closed the eyes again almost at once, but there are now grounds for hope that he’ll emerge from the coma.”
“Great.” His mind was racing.
“It is and it isn’t,” Georgina said. “Marvellous that he seems to have survived, but what will he have to say to the IPCC people? I’m worried that he may be critical of our driver.”
“He may not remember much. Do Drawham and Quarter know about this?”