The Altered Case (24 page)

‘Yes, sir. But Mr Hillyard, the retired solicitor, described him as a cold, calculating, unpleasant youth who was badly damaged by childhood experiences. Left in a phone box as a newborn infant and brought up in an institution until he was ten, when he was fostered by the Parrs. Mr Hillyard reported that Gerald Parr expressed a fear of him. He was away on the south coast with his girlfriend, one Florence Nightingale, when the Parrs vanished,' Yellich reported flatly.

‘Who?' Hennessey gasped.

‘I kid you not, sir, that was her name, probably still is. We'll do a CR check on her as well. She was a cold fish by all accounts, with a chip on her shoulder about her name . . . but she and Nigel Parr teamed up.'

‘OK . . . OK, well, my news is that Thomas Farrent has reported his wife as a missing person,' Hennessey announced flatly, and remained silent as a stillness settled in the room. ‘Then,' he added, ‘he said she was last seen talking to DS Yellich and accuses us of abducting her.'

‘I met her in York,' Yellich said. ‘She just planted herself in front of me. I didn't recognize her at first but no conversation took place, there was no time. Her husband appeared out of the crowd, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away, but I do remember a look of fear in her eyes. She was a very frightened woman.'

‘That is also interesting.' Hennessey leaned back in his chair. ‘So, what's for action?'

‘We have to go to Fyrst, Tend and Byrd,' Webster suggested. ‘See what they can tell us about the land ownership issue.'

‘Yes, I'll do that.' Hennessey scribbled a note on his pad. ‘We need to find Florence Nightingale . . . do a CR check on her. If she's known, go and visit her. Ventnor and Webster, that's for you two . . . Another trip to the south for you, Reg. Bad luck,' he added with a grin.

‘Yellich and DI Pharoah.'

‘Sir?'

‘Follow up on the mis per report. It'll be a chance to look round the Farrents' bungalow. I want us inside that home.'

‘Yes, sir.'

The woman walked slowly along the promenade from the North Bay towards the South Bay, savouring the sea air which added to her sense of new-found freedom. She was reminded of the day she truanted from school and discovered a strange mix of emotions: exhilaration in freedom and a sense of comfort in flight. Now it was the same. It was just her and a single room in a cheap hotel, but it was her room and only hers. The table to herself at breakfast; a small table tucked away in the corner of the dining room, but it was hers and hers alone. She cared not one jot, not one iota that the other guests glanced at her with pity, because she, in her solitude, knew only joy: the joy of the bird released from its cage, or the wild animal released from captivity.

‘Heavens, that's a long time ago. I was a junior then, serving articles. It seems only yesterday, though, and I recall the case very well indeed.' Elizabeth Nosser was a small, finely built woman in her fifties. She had short, black hair and alert brown eyes. She wore a black, pinstripe suit over a cream blouse. Rings, bracelets and necklaces and a gold watch spoke of wealth and her marital status. ‘The case made quite a stir with us; that is it made quite a stir with Fyrst, Tend and Byrd.'

‘Really?' Hennessey adjusted his position in the armchair.

‘Yes, in our deliberations we felt the Parrs had a winnable case. We were permitted to see a photocopy of the original document, which had not been altered, plus a signed statement from a respected and indeed eminent document analyst who declared his opinion that the deed was genuine. They would not allow us to look at the original, which was quite fair enough, but they indicated their willingness to allow our own document analyst to access the document at their chambers and, I confess, the partners got very excited.' She smiled briefly. ‘I mean, what with a substantial remnant of a forest estate, which once covered a large area of land stretching from here to the coast, up for grabs, the media interest would be intense. The fees we could charge would be astronomical; both firms smelled money.'

‘And your advice?'

‘To settle out of court,' Elizabeth Nosser replied in a calm, matter-of-fact manner. ‘We and the London firm hoped for instructions to dispute the claim, in which case much coinage would pour into the coffers of both our firms, but we were ethically obliged to offer our clients the best possible advice. In this case, it was for both families to reach an agreement between themselves.'

‘I see.'

‘We do have a code of conduct that we have to honour. I don't know what advice the Parrs were given, but we said that if the deeds the Farrents hold can be shown to have been fraudulently altered and the deed the Parrs hold is genuine and unaltered, then the case would be settled in the Parrs' favour, with the Farrents getting something in recognition of the fact they had “owned” the land for four hundred years and that they believed their ownership to have been lawful, but the Parrs would be the major beneficiaries. In that light we felt that if the Parrs made a reasonable offer, the Farrents should accept it.'

‘That accords with the advice given to the Parrs.' Hennessey's eye was caught by a pheasant which landed in the landscaped gardens he could see behind Elizabeth Nosser. The office smelled richly of furniture polish. The walls were lined with shelves on which sat row upon row of legal textbooks. ‘In fact,' Hennessey continued, ‘we have information from the Parrs' solicitor, no less, that the Parrs were advised to offer to share the land equally with the Farrents.'

‘That would indeed have been a very fair offer.' Elizabeth Nosser nodded. ‘To draw up new title deeds, confirming the ownership of one half of the lands to the Farrents and the other half to the Parrs would have been fair and reasonable.'

‘Do you know if the Parrs' offer was put to the Farrents?'

‘If it was, it was done privately. It was not made to the Farrents through this firm. We did talk to the Farrents and suggested they agree to relinquish a proportion of the land as a settlement of the claim.' Elizabeth Nosser scratched her left palm with her right thumb.

‘How often did you meet the Farrents?'

‘Once or twice, here in our chambers, and also once at their home . . . a bungalow, very newly built then . . . out at Catton Hill,' Nosser explained.

‘Yes, I have been there.'

‘Modest bungalow, for the owners of such a vast amount of land,' Nosser commented. ‘I was disappointed when I saw it; I expected something grander. Hostile family, I thought. Their friends were there, young Thomas' friends . . . the son . . . he is the owner now; inherited the whole estate. His friends were there, southerners by their accents. I took a dislike to Thomas and his friends. No reason, just feminine intuition. You learn to listen to it; it has never let me down. Thomas was married by then but it was clear that, even at the early stages of their marriage, his wife was already frightened of him.'

‘And the case itself?' Hennessey asked.

‘Still open. We received no word from the Parrs' solicitors, largely, I assume, because it was about then that the family vanished.' Elizabeth Nosser paused. ‘There is a story there.'

‘Did you think it suspicious?'

‘Only in hindsight,' Elizabeth Nosser replied. ‘Life moved on, other work came in . . . had to be addressed, but in hindsight, yes, I think it suspicious. You know you could try . . . what's his name . . . William . . . William . . .' Elizabeth Nosser bowed her head and held it with both hands. ‘What was his name . . .? Pargeter.' She looked up smiling. ‘William Pargeter.'

‘Who is he?' Hennessey took his notepad from his pocket.

‘Don't know his designation. He just seemed to be in with the bricks of the Farrent household, as though he was an old family retainer. Again, so I assumed, with nothing more than feminine intuition. I felt he was not at all happy with whatever was going on in the Farrent family.'

‘Where might we find him? Do you know?'

‘I'd try the pub if I were you. If he is still with us; he was middle-aged then, thirty years ago.'

The two men sat at the same table, facing each other in the restaurant. They had both enjoyed the first course of soup and had settled most enjoyably into the second course of haddock and chips. The two men had also settled into each other's company, as they had always done and as they always did. After a brief lull in the conversation, George Hennessey, the elder of the two men, said, ‘So, you're in Newcastle next week? Lovely city; it has a certain vibrancy, I have always found. What's the story?'

‘Yes, I do like Newcastle as well.' Charles Hennessey sipped his tea and glanced round the restaurant. Quiet. Just two other tables occupied despite the excellence of the meal, but, he pondered, it was a little late for lunch and he and his father must represent the tail end of the midday trade for the restaurateur. ‘It's the old story. I am representing an old lag who should know better. He is insisting on going NG . . . He really did not commit the offence despite a pub full of witnesses.'

‘One of those.' Hennessey senior sighed. ‘We meet them all the time.'

‘Deny everything and it will go away, such a juvenile attitude. He is certain the CPS will drop the case if he pleads not guilty.'

‘That's a new one.' George Hennessey grinned. ‘Where on earth did he obtain that notion? I mean, the Crown Prosecution Service is under pressure to get convictions. The public do not like to see felons walk.'

‘Don't I know that, and do you think I haven't done my best to explain that to him? He is a simple-minded heavyweight thug, but apparently he is adamant he'll be released from custody because that is what happened to a couple of lads who live on the same housing estate as he does and they have been bragging in the pub about it.'

‘Have they now?' George Hennessey's brow furrowed.

‘So he says, father.' Charles Hennessey paused to eat another mouthful of fish. ‘This really is excellent. How did you find this restaurant?'

‘By chance, I was visiting Knaresborough and felt peckish . . .'

‘Serendipity?' Charles Hennessey replied.

‘Yes.' Hennessey senior cut another mouthful of fish. ‘Pure serendipity, but do go on.'

‘Oh, yes . . . well, apparently what happened is that the two lads in question were caught red-handed stealing Yorkshire stone paving slabs at four o'clock one morning. The police caught them in the act and also found them to be in possession of a stolen vehicle.'

‘Straightforward.' George Hennessey looked up as a slender young waitress with neat black hair, white blouse and black skirt and a pleasant manner approached their table to ask if everything was all right. Hennessey smiled his thanks and said, ‘Perfect, thank you.'

‘So you might think,' Charles Hennessey continued. ‘But it is the case that they must have been given advice to go NG by a solicitor who knows the game and the dodges. It is true that the CPS is under pressure to obtain convictions, but it is also the case that, like all government departments, it has to work within a budget.'

‘Ah . . .' George Hennessey held eye contact with his son. ‘I think I can see where you are going with this.'

‘Yes, so the gamble their solicitor probably suggested,' Charles Hennessey continued, ‘is that if you plead guilty you'll get an immediate one-third reduction in your sentence, but if you plead not guilty the CPS might decide not to run the case because it will not be cost-effective; court time being as hugely expensive as it is. So they took the gamble and it paid off. But the theft was frustrated and the two felons were remanded for a few weeks before being released on bail, meaning they had a taste of prison life. They were also exposed to their families as being criminals and they became known to the police.'

‘So what you're saying is that the CPS accepted that as a won game and dropped the charges to avoid a costly trial for what, in the overall scheme of things, was a minor offence?' George Hennessey clarified.

‘Precisely. So, my man, having heard that story, is now convinced that if he pleads not guilty he'll walk free.'

‘Not so simple.' George Hennessey ate a piece of buttered bread.

‘But will he be dissuaded?' Charles Hennessey gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. ‘Both myself and his solicitor have pointed out to him that he glassed someone in a pub for no reason at all, and that the only reason he is not looking at a murder charge is that his victim was taken to hospital just in time to save his life. That is quite different from being caught for lifting paving slabs . . . but will he listen?'

‘We arrest them and charge them, and then you fight their corner.' Hennessey smiled. ‘But it doesn't sound like you'll be getting this one off the hook.'

Charles Hennessey shook his head. ‘Heavens, father, I don't want to see him walk. If you ask me, prison is indeed the best place for him. It is apparently the case that he is the bully-boy of the housing estate. People who live there are in fear of him. His wife walks into the shop on the estate, a small supermarket, and when she has got her purchases she always walks to the head of the queue; it's that sort of situation. Now she's worried because if her husband gets gaol—'

‘Which he will.'

‘Without a doubt,' Hennessey junior continued. ‘Then she fears she'll be hounded off the estate; bricks through her window, the lot. Her husband has made a lot of enemies on the estate.'

‘It's the way of it.'

‘Yes, I told her to begin to pack her bags.' Charles Hennessey placed his knife and fork on the plate, having finished his lunch. ‘Because her husband is going down for a long time.'

‘So it seems.' George Hennessey also finished his lunch. ‘So how are the children?'

‘Thriving, just thriving, thanks.' Charles Hennessey smiled. ‘As always they want to know when granddad Hennessey is coming to see them again. Granddad Hennessey's visits always excite them.'