of £ 5,000 for his recent trip to Nepal. And that wasn’t to climb a mountain. He went on a fact-finding mission with a view to opening a school and a clinic out there.’
‘Mmm. Add Mother Teresa to the list. Have you spoken to Wallenberg?’
‘Briefly, on the phone. I just said we were talking to everyone who had connections with Krabbe, andwe’d read about the sponsorship in the book. He reckons he’s only met him a couple of times, at charity functions, and Krabbe tapped him for a contribution.’
‘Sounds reasonable.’
‘Except he’s lying through his teeth. Krabbe’s shop in the mall – Art of Asia – is rented from a property company, which just happens to be part of the Wallenberg empire.’
‘That doesn’t mean he knows who his tenants are.’
‘I’ve spoken to the staff who worked there. The shop’s closed now, but I tracked down the manageress and her assistant via the security company. They both recognised a mugshot of Wallenberg. Said he called in now and again when Krabbe was there, and they would go into a huddle in the stock room. They knew each other, all right.’
‘I’m convinced. Anything else?’
‘Yes. Wallenberg is bigger in this town than we’ve realised. Next to the council he’s just about the biggest landlord, but did you know he owns that new restaurant on the Town Square: L’Autre Place ?’
‘No, that’s a new one on me. They do a magnificent beef Wellington, I’m told.’
‘So they say. Word has it that he entertained Joe Crozier there a couple of weeks ago, and there’s lots of other talk about him, on the streets.’
‘We’ve looked into Crozier and he’s legit, thesedays. Only just – he’s a club owner and into various other entertainment activities. Betting shops, that sort of thing. Nothing we can touch him for. What are they saying about Wallenberg?’
‘Well, apparently he inherited a small fortune from his parents, but he has a weakness – gambling. He’ll bet on anything, I’m told, and conducts his business deals with the same recklessness. The result is that he’s had some heavy losses over the last few years, so it’s back to basics. He’s reverted to the original family businesses, namely prostitution and protection, and he’s spreading his wings.’
‘Who have you been talking to?’
‘I have my sources. They’re reliable.’
‘Your Rasta friends?’
‘They don’t like him. They use him and he uses them, but there’s no respect.’
‘Be careful with them, John.’
‘Don’t worry, I am.’
‘It looks like we’ll have to have words with Mr Wallenberg.’ I turned a pencil over between my fingers and tapped the blunt end on the desk, thinking what to do next. Gilbert answered his phone straight away. ‘You mentioned some tickets,’ I said, ‘to a charity bash at the football club. Did you find them?’
‘Yes. I’d thrown them in the bin but they were still there. Do you want them?’
‘When is it?’
‘Let me see…um, next Saturday.’
‘I’ll have them, then. I’d like to see Wallenberg on his own turf first, before I have a really good talk to him.’
‘Is he on your list of suspects?’
I didn’t have a list of suspects. ‘No,’ I replied, ‘not for Krabbe’s murder, but we’ll think of something.’
When John had gone I rang Nigel Newley in Leeds and arranged to meet him for a drink, later that evening. The Halfway House was conveniently situated, approximately equidistant from Leeds and Heckley, so we met there. Big Dave came with me.
‘How’s Sophie?’ I asked on the drive over. ‘I haven’t had chance to ask you.’
‘Alright,’ he replied.
‘Only alright?’
‘I hardly saw her, did I? We were working, remember.’
‘Mmm, sorry about that. Some people are inconsiderate about the timing of their murders. Did she bring the boyfriend with her?’
‘Digby? No, he was playing rugby in France. Usually Shirley’s OK. She knows the score, but this weekend she’s been
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