Web of Lies, Sally Rigby [list of e readers .TXT] 📗

He pointed to the large dining area over the far side of the pub.

‘Did he ever come in with his wife?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t keep track of the man. I wasn’t his keeper.’

‘When was the last time he was here?’

‘The day before his body was found, he was here for lunch with a man who I assumed was another client.’

‘Did the police question you about this?’

‘No. We didn’t have a visit from your lot.’ He nodded at Birdie. ‘But why would they if it was suicide? The top car park isn’t exactly on the doorstep.’

‘Would you recognise the other man again?’

‘Possibly. He was tall, stocky build, shaved head. Looked a bit rough. I’d probably put him in his late thirties, or early forties.’

‘What sort of mood was Mr Witherspoon in that day? Did he seem different?’

‘Come to think of it, I remember serving him and he didn’t seem his usual self. He wasn’t rude, he was never rude, but he did seem a bit not with it, if you know what I mean. I didn’t read anything into it. Sometimes people are friendlier than others.’

‘Are there any members of staff or customers who could give us a bit more information about him?’

‘I doubt it. He didn’t mix with people when he was here.’ He held his hands up. ‘You’ve had more than enough from me. I’m going.’

‘Thank you for your help.’

‘Do you have a menu?’ Birdie asked.

The manager picked one up and handed it to her. ‘They’ll take your order at the bar,’ he said and walked away.

‘What do you think?’ Birdie asked.

‘We need to find out who Donald was with on the Saturday.’

Chapter 11

8 May

Seb had met Donald’s brother, Edgar, on several occasions at family gatherings, usually weddings and funerals, and the brothers had always appeared close. Should he phone or email to ask if Edgar would speak to him? Seb had no idea what reception he’d get. He’d phone. It was more immediate. Fortunately, he had his number stored in his mobile.

‘Witherspoon,’ the soft voice echoed in his ear.

As comfortable as Donald had been in the company of others, Edgar was the opposite. A pleasant enough chap when talking on a one-to-one basis but put him in a group and he would hardly ever contribute.

Edgar had always seemed to live in his outgoing older brother’s shadow. It reminded Seb of his older brother, Hubert, who was the more outgoing of the two of them.

‘Hello, Edgar. It’s Sebastian Clifford, Sarah’s cousin.’

‘I know who you are. How are you?’

‘Well, thank you. I came down for Donald’s funeral the other day but didn’t see you there.’

He didn’t reply for a while, and if it wasn’t for his breathing Seb would have thought he’d ended the call. ‘I thought it was best to stay away, under the circumstances,’ he eventually said. ‘How did it go?’

‘Not many people turned up. It was a simple service. Adequate.’

He’d be lying if he said it was anything other.

‘I’m not surprised people kept away after what my brother had done. He was certainly persona non grata in every circle I know of.’

‘I’d like to speak to you and wondered if you were around sometime today so we could get together.’

‘What about?’

‘Sarah has asked me to look into the circumstances of Donald’s death, and I thought that as you’d invested with him, and were also family, I’d approach you first. Not only do you have first-hand experience of his business practice, but you knew Donald better than most.’

‘You’re not the first person to ask me for an interview for that very reason. The press has been hounding me ever since he died. As soon as I think it’s dying down, something else crops up and they’re at my door again. The funeral being a point in question.’

‘I’m very sorry, it must be hard.’

‘That’s an understatement. But, in case you wondered, I don’t hold any malice against Sarah. I’m pretty sure she knew nothing about his activities. Donald told me that he rarely shared business matters with her. He often joked that the less she knew the better, so she couldn’t incriminate him. I’ve got a lot on today, but have an hour free at one. Let’s meet for a drink at the pub in Guilsborough.’

Seb sighed with relief, as he’d been bracing himself for a no.

‘Thank you. It’s much appreciated. I’ll see you later.’

He ended the call, surprised that Edgar had agreed so readily to see him. It was only eleven-thirty, and he had an hour before he needed to leave for the meeting so after he’d done some research on Edgar, as he had no knowledge of what business he was involved in, he called Linda Stallion from the FCA to see if he could ascertain who it was that had reported Donald’s financial irregularities.

‘It’s Sebastian Clifford, Ms Stallion,’ he said when she answered the phone. ‘Sorry to bother you on a Saturday but I was given your card by Sarah Witherspoon as you dealt with her regarding the investigation into her husband Donald’s company.’

‘How may I help?’ Linda Stallion replied, sounding puzzled.

‘Sarah’s my cousin and she’s asked me to look into the nature of Donald’s death. I’ve gone through his business records and wondered if you could tell me which one of his clients contacted you and reported him? I’m assuming it was a client who hadn’t been paid their dividends.’

‘That is correct, but I’m not at liberty to give you an actual name. All I can tell you is they were long-time investors and lost their life savings.’

‘Was it the Blacks?’ he asked remembering some media coverage which had featured them.

‘What makes you ask that?’ The pitch of Linda Stallion’s voice increased. Was he correct?

‘They were prominent in the press and from my research, I discovered they’d invested with him before he began the fraudulent scheme.’

‘You didn’t hear it from me,’ Linda said.

He left Market Harborough at twelve-thirty, not wanting to be late, and headed for the pub. He’d been there