The Criminal Escapades of Geoffrey Larkin (11 page)

After an hour of talking to Mrs. Holland and refusing what would have been their third cup of tea, the sergeant and Constable Wilson left the large detached house, making their way back towards the show house at the entrance of the estate that also doubled as an office for the sales lady Mrs. Grant.

Geoff Larkin had been in the upstairs rear bedroom of the show house. From here he had a good view of the compound; he'd seen the CID sergeant and police constable leave the enclosed area and large storage shed making their way across to the rear of the houses that overlooked them. From there he lost sight of the two men and as they did not re-appear he presumed that they had entered one of those properties. He'd seen the two policemen earlier as they left their car and made their way towards the show house.

He'd instantly recognised the sergeant from his appearance at the theft of the copper wire so he was surprised that the policeman did not recognise him, but then here he was in smart clothes, and a shiny clean face, clean finger nails and highly polished shoes. At their last meeting he'd been in a pair of dirty and ripped overalls that were tucked into a pair of oversized wellingtons, wearing a bob hat with a mop of unruly hair projecting from the sides, and leaning on a yard brush.

Every so often, he would start the motor on the hoover that he'd taken with him to the bedrooms, just to give Mrs. Grant the impression that he was not being idle.

He saw the two men as they suddenly appeared around the corner of the road. He winced as he realised they were making their way back in the direction of the show house. He took the hoover back down the stairs and was placing it back in the utility room adjacent to the kitchen when the men knocked on the rear door. Mrs. Grant came through from the lounge, letting the men into the kitchen. Geoff stayed where he was in the wash room. From here he was out of sight but could hear their conversation quite clearly.

‘Thank you, Mrs. Grant,' said the sergeant politely as they entered the kitchen. ‘Just one or two minor points I need to clear up. We've had a word with one of the residents, she was in her property over the weekend. Now, did you have any deliveries to the site booked in for Saturday?' Mrs. Grant thought for a few seconds before replying.

‘There were definitely no deliveries booked into the site on Saturday, of that I am sure,' Mrs. Grant replied emphatically.

‘And you were here all that time?' continued the sergeant.

‘Well, I was on the site all of Saturday. I may not have been in this particular show house all that time but I did not leave this estate.'

‘So if you left this house where did you go to and at what time, Mrs. Grant?' pressed the sergeant.

He could see that the woman standing in front of him was getting a little flustered. From his position in the kitchen, looking past Mrs. Grant and through the window over the garden and on to the compound, Sergeant Robinson had a clear view of the site storage area, especially, the entrance.

‘I had to go and visit the other show house at one point in the afternoon. There was a problem that I needed to discuss and clarify with Mr. Proudlove. He's one of the firm's directors you know.'

Sergeant Robinson looked at his companion who was busy scribbling in his notebook before asking another question. ‘Was there anyone in this house while you were in the other show house, Mrs. Grant?'

‘Why, yes, Geoffrey was here all the time!' she replied quickly, suddenly feeling very relieved.

It was then that Geoff opened, and then closed, the external door to the wash room, giving the impression that he had just entered the property. He walked loudly across the tiled floor into the kitchen, acting surprised as he was confronted by the two men and Mrs. Grant, who all looked at him as he entered the room.

‘Oh! I'm sorry, Mrs. Grant I didn't know you were busy,' he volunteered with a smile. He then made to walk out of the kitchen towards the lounge.

‘Geoffrey!' exclaimed Mrs. Grant after the retreating figure. ‘Would you confirm for Sergeant Robinson that I did not leave the estate on Saturday?'

Before Geoff could answer the sergeant quickly intervened. ‘I'm not suspicious of you Mrs. Grant, it's just that I need to know of everybody's whereabouts on Saturday afternoon, as that's when I think the materials went missing. We're looking for a large, white van with three occupants wearing brown warehouse smocks. They were seen on the site on Saturday afternoon.'

Geoff could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He must retain an outward show of calmness, even though by now, his stomach was doing summersaults. He looked innocently at the sergeant, waiting for him to ask him a question; at this stage he was not going to volunteer any unnecessarily information. At the same time he was wondering if the sergeant would recognise him from the electricity board site from where the copper wire had been stolen.

‘What's your full name, Geoffrey, just for our notes?' said the sergeant, looking at the young man standing in front of him, whose grammar did not seem to fit with his very smart appearance.

‘Larkin, sir!' replied Geoff quickly.

‘And how long have you worked here Geoffrey?' continued the sergeant.

‘Mr. Goodier was kind enough to employ me sir,' replied Geoff smiling and trying to sound relaxed, even though his stomach muscles were in knots. ‘I've been here for two months, working under the supervision of Mrs. Grant, who has been kind enough to instruct me in the correct procedure for the selling of properties.'

He's a smooth talker I'll give him that,
thought the sergeant as he viewed the young man standing in front of him.

‘Geoffrey was here all the time on Saturday. He would have seen any van that arrived that day,' Mrs. Grant interrupted.

‘Well, if you recall Mrs. Grant,' Geoff interrupted, ‘Mr. Proudlove's wife called in the afternoon, I was keeping her entertained until you returned. I was in the lounge for quite a long period.'

Mrs. Grant interrupted again before Geoff could continue. ‘I had to sort out a problem that a potential client had brought to my attention. I had an appointment with Mr. Proudlove but the meeting took longer than we had anticipated,' a flustered, red-faced Mrs. Grant added.

‘So, none of the staff saw this van on the Saturday as the storage shed was completely emptied! The theft was not discovered until Monday morning and it was then two hours later that a phone call was made to the local police station. Those seem to be the facts, do you agree?' said the sergeant, quietly looking at Mrs. Grant, then at Geoffrey, before returning his gaze to Mrs. Grant. Geoff just stayed quiet with a baffled look on his face.

‘Yes, you seem to have all the facts correct,' she replied.

‘I would like you to have another word with Mr. Goodier, Mrs. Grant. I would like you to ask him to double check the list of stolen equipment just to keep our records correct.'

There was no other way that Sergeant Robinson could put this point to Mrs. Grant, only as bluntly as he did; he was giving the managing director, Daniel Goodier, an opportunity to correct his inflated claim of stolen goods, ignoring the surprised glance directed his way by his constable.

Leaving a slightly confused Mrs. Grant in the kitchen Geoff showed the CID sergeant and his associate out of the show house. No doubt they would go back to the police station and start making their enquiries through their contacts, trying to trace any cheap kitchen equipment that had appeared on the local black market.

When he returned, Mrs. Grant was on the phone trying to contact the firm's managing director, Daniel Goodier. As Geoff entered the lounge she indicated for him to put the kettle on to make tea. This suited Geoff as he was curious to hear what she would say to the director. He had cottoned-on straight away what was happening; the managing director was trying to claim that much more had been stolen than actually had been.

The bloody tea leaf
, he thought. Goodier was trying to operate some insurance scam but that didn't surprise Geoff! On several occasions there had been envelopes left with Geoff at the show house for Daniel Goodier to collect and there was no mistaking the feel of paper money in those envelopes. Geoff knew that the copper was nobody's fool but, for some reason, he was giving the director a chance to re-adjust the list of missing items.

Mrs. Grant replaced the phone and turned to Geoff as he entered the lounge with a tray carrying cups, saucers, a sugar bowl, a milk jug, a pot of tea plus two plates with several chocolate biscuits on each.

All the pottery was bone china, Mrs. Grant was, as Geoff had found out, a traditionalist; referring to them as the proper utensils. It had all been new to Geoff when he first started but he found he quite liked the style of his supervisor. He was learning etiquette as she called it. He also liked the plush, thick carpets in the lounge, which your feet sank into, the smart fabric furniture and the luxury kitchen with all its appliances.

All this was so different from his small poky bed-sit which he shared with his mate, Harry Sutton. ‘Mr. Goodier is making a new list. Apparently some of the items were moved into the store house on Friday afternoon which he was not aware of. You can collect the list in half an hour, Geoffrey,' she said as he poured the tea.

Geoff cast his mind back to the Saturday. Mrs. Grant had left at her usual time for her regular appointment with the junior director, Mr. Proudlove. He had given her a few minutes to be clear of the compound then closed and opened again the front bedroom curtains several times. A few minutes later, a white van, driven by John Bolton borrowed from his boss's garage which was closed on a Saturday afternoon, drove slowly past the show house on its way to the compound.

Geoff had been watching from the rear upstairs window, which gave an unrestricted view of the compound, when the van with its false number plates had pulled up in front of the compound gates. He could see Derek Bolton opening the gates with the replica keys. He'd just opened the second gate to allow the van to drive into the compound when there was a ringing from the front doorbell of the show house. Geoff froze. There were no viewers booked in for the Saturday afternoon, he'd seen to that when making the appointments. The ringing of the bell for the second time startled him into action; he went down the stairs crossing quickly to the front door.

‘Good afternoon, Mrs. Proudlove.' He recognised the smartly dressed woman as the wife of the junior director. This was a delicate, very delicate situation! He could not have this woman wandering around the building site looking for her husband, at least, not until the lads had finished loading the van and cleared off the estate. He had to keep her from the kitchen, especially, as the view from those windows directly overlooked the compound.

The woman didn't answer, just pushing past Geoff who quickly closed the front door and then followed the woman into the lounge. ‘Is Mrs. Grant not here?' she said turning around and lighting a cigarette.

‘No! She's just slipped out but I'm expecting her back in a few moments. Can I make you a cup of tea or coffee? Would you like to take a seat? Mrs. Proudlove?' he said, indicating the easy chair at the side of the settee.

‘Coffee will do fine,' said the woman, sitting down in the center of the settee. Geoff moved a small table from the end of the settee, placing it near the director's wife. The woman flicked the end of her cigarette into the ash tray which he had placed in the centre of the table.

‘It's not Mrs. Grant I want to see, I'm just surprised that you've been left here on your own!' she said abruptly, looking him up and down. ‘I need you to get in touch with my husband; he's a director of this building firm you know. Tell him I've finished my shopping early and I'm here waiting for him.'

‘Yes, ma'am, I'll just put the kettle on first,' he said, making his way into the kitchen. He was taking a dislike to this woman. She was haughty and snobbish, treating him as if he was her servant and speaking to him as if he was something stuck to her shoe.

He switched on the electric kettle and placed the best bone china on the tray. On an impulse, he picked up one of the cups, thought for a moment then returned it on its saucer.

‘The bitch isn't worth it!' he muttered, replacing the bone china with ordinary cups and saucers. He looked through the kitchen window; the van was still in the compound.

‘Come on lads; get a move on,' he muttered. He took the tray back into the lounge and placed it on the edge of the small table. Mrs. Proudlove had finished her cigarette and the remains were still smoldering in the ash tray. He moved the ash tray, pushing the tea tray into the centre of the table.

‘I'll make that phone call for you now, Mrs. Proudlove. I'll see if I can contact Mr. Proudlove, it shouldn't be a problem,' he said, forcing himself to smile in the direction of the woman as she proceeded to light another cigarette. He removed the tea tray and replaced it with the ash tray.

If the van had not been in the compound he would have phoned the other show house where Mrs. Grant was in conference with Mr. Proudlove, or to put it in the language of the workers on the building site, Mr. Proudlove was being screwed by a sex starved middle-aged woman called Mrs. Grant!

He rang the site office; there was no answer, as he knew there wouldn't be. Mr. Proudlove was otherwise engaged! He returned to the lounge, ‘Mr. Proudlove is unavailable at the moment but I left a message to contact me on his return. I was assured he wouldn't be long Mrs. Proudlove.'

The woman looked at the young man standing in front of her but she didn't like what she saw. He was young and well-dressed but he was also a bag of nerves, perhaps being in the presence of a lady and a director's wife had that effect on him.

On the other hand, the way he spoke reminded her of her own upbringing and surroundings, that was, until she'd met Edward Proudlove. She'd always had ambitions and could see he was in a far better position, financially and socially, than the other men she'd dated, so she had set her sights to snare the unsuspecting Edward Proudlove, and had succeeded. She had managed by getting herself pregnant by him and was married within months of their first meeting, mainly to save any embarrassment to her husband's family. It was he who had paid for her to go to elocution lessons in order for her to fit in more readily with the level of society to which he belonged.