Before accusing James of outright fraud, Claire was going to search in all the dark corners of this deceitful web. Unsure of what she would find, today Claire took a twenty-minute drive from Arrow Hall to a village she knew well.
Turning from the dual carriageway into the narrow country road to the village, Claire looked into her rear-view mirror. A white van was driving up close, too close to be safe. Touching her foot on the brake pedal she saw her rear lights reflected clearly in the van’s windscreen. Being closely followed was intimidation, why, she did not know, but it added to her anger at what she was uncovering.
She drove slowly past the well-kept cottages that lined the wide village high street; the van overtook her and was soon gone out of sight. Number fifty-eight was a house fronting onto the road; it had a newly painted, bright-red door. Her knock was quickly answered.
‘I’m Claire from the Arrow Hall site. Are you Holly, Darren’s wife?’
Holly looked startled for a moment; she was not expecting to see a well-dressed lady from Arrow Hall.
‘Yes, nothing wrong is there?’
‘Could I come in to talk with you for a few minutes? I’d just like to clear up some questions on your accounts which Darren tells me you deal with.’
‘Yes, he has told me about you.’
Five minutes later, with a cup of tea in her hand, Claire passed the sheet of paper to Holly that she thought was a forgery.
‘I’d like to know what you think of this.’
‘Darren told me about it, but it was not something he wanted to get involved in.’
‘Can you tell me more?’
‘He says there’s talk around the site about an easy way to make money. There’s talk about the building costing a lot and taking from the pile that’s being paid out will never be noticed. Whoever’s working it, Darren wouldn’t tell me, but he was asked to join in. He said no and was told to keep quiet or else. It’s left him nervous; he just wants to finish the job and get out.’
Claire passed Holly the letter from her address asking for bank details to be changed for future payments of the account. Holly read it slowly and laid it on the arm of her chair.
‘What is going on here? That invoice is not one I’ve sent you – it doesn’t even add up. That’s not our address – we are Appledore not Appleton – this letter is sham. We only have two bank accounts: one for Darren’s work and the other for our personal money. I’ve certainly not changed banks, so who’s signature is this at the bottom of the letter? It’s not mine, so this is a forgery too. Should we call the police?’
Holly had a deep frown on her forehead as she passed the two sheets of paper back to Claire.
‘I need to find out more first before we decide how to deal with this – I’ll call you again when it’s become clearer,’ Claire said.
‘We were talking about the Arrow Hall site – Darren remembers the old building but is not sure if the new one can be finished to be as good as it used to look.’
‘When it’s all done and we’ve had the gardens landscaped, I’m sure it will be a landmark again and fit into the countryside round about.’
Claire had hopes that that would be true, but doubts were clouding her remote images for the site. And as Claire left Holly, she had another call to make. It was a ten-minute drive to a small town not far from the motorway. An address for heating engineers and plumbers for an account of £18,000 signed off by James that looked suspicious. She had not been able to locate it in the telephone directory, nor was there any website or Facebook page, although the symbols were on the invoice heading.
There was a tidy row of shops, from hairdressers to grocers, and a couple of cafes with tables outside. Claire drove slowly along Bridge Street, but there was nothing looking like heating engineers or plumbers. Claire parked at the end of Bridge Street and, with paper in hand, walked along the right-hand side to find number twenty-two.
And there it was. The office of country town solicitors, May and Fletcher. Claire entered.
‘I’m looking for Biggs and Son, plumbers and heating engineers, and I have your office as their address.’
The receptionist smiled at Claire.
‘I haven’t heard of them but let me check.’
She turned to her screen and, a few seconds later, said, ‘They’re not on our list. Are you sure you’ve got the right street number?’
Claire handed the receptionist the invoice to Arrow Hall from Biggs and Son. She scanned it quickly and frowned.
‘I’ll have a word with one of the partners to check if it’s a new client.’
She returned two minutes later.
‘No, they’re not a client – Mr May’s never heard of them in this town and nor have I. And that’s an odd address because the postcode does not match this end of the street. It’s a mystery. Sorry I can’t help you.’
Claire left and walked quickly back to her car. In her hand she now had vital evidence. It would snuff out the acrid smell surrounding these unsavoury ways to extract money from Arrow Hall.