The Fifth Identity. Ray CW Scott

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      Pelham gave the knob on the top a few turns, the second hand began to slowly go round the dial.

      “What’s in the drawers?”

      They opened up the top drawer and found some old newspaper cuttings. There was no indication of the newspaper itself, merely cuttings. They dealt with details of the firm founded by John Accrington and Kenneth Bilston, and there were some with articles dealing with the Enigma coding machine used by German U-Boats during the war.

      “Wonder what his interest was in that?” mused Ruddock.

      “Probably to do with the early days of primitive computers,” grunted Pelham. “Cracking that code was a process of mathematics, logic, a lack of logic in some cases, pure luck and dedication. My father was in Naval Intelligence during the Second World War, he knew a lot about this. Many of the decoders were mathematicians, crossword puzzle solvers, university professors in addition to technicians in the embryo computer industry.”

      “What’s in the next drawer?”

      “There’s a picture of a house, a photograph. Here’s another one of a farm house.”

      “What’s in the third drawer?” asked Pelham

      “Looks like a tie, what do you reckon? Regimental?”

      “Difficult to say, but I’d say it represents something. I don’t think it looks like a casual design.”

      Ruddock held it in his hand and it unravelled until it hung down. They both looked at it quizzically.

      “Hmmm!” Pelham grunted again, “OK, let’s have a look in the deed box.”

      But it was locked.

      “Damnation!!” ejaculated Pelham.

      “Hold on, there’s a key in the last drawer, will this fit?”

      They tried it, it fitted.

      “Good!” said Ruddock. “I wouldn’t fancy contacting Mrs Salmon again.”

      Pelham grinned and shook his head.

      “Amen to that!” he said. “OK, let’s have a look.”

      “Now we’re getting somewhere,” announced Pelham as he drew a birth certificate out from a dusty envelope. “This is his alright, there’s the name - John Arthur Accrington, and there are the names of his parents, where he was born and the date. He was born 24^th February 1924 - hells teeth, he must have been what … … 80 plus when he died!”

      Ruddock examined the birth certificate and perused it carefully.

      “This isn’t the original, this was issued in 1947.”

      “What? Let me see,” Pelham looked at it closely and shrugged.

      “I don’t know if there’s anything unduly significant in that,” he said. “I couldn’t find mine when I wanted a passport and had to obtain a copy from Somerset House. It turned up later so now I’ve got two.”

      “What do we do now, chase up the family?”

      “Yes, but no point in you doing it. This is a private detective or heir hunter’s job, I can’t afford to have you gallivanting around the countryside when there’s work to do here. Get onto Rodney Fillery and get him to deal with this.”

      Ruddock entered the building situated in Paddington east of the main railway station. He entered the lift and emerged on the fifth floor. The Rodney Fillery Detective Agency was the fourth door on the left, he entered and was greeted by the young receptionist. Another woman, aged about 40, was delving into a filing cabinet. She looked up and said “Hallo Norman.” She was Dania Ransom, Ruddock knew her quite well.

      The Fillery agency did much work for Fell, Pelham & Drysdale. Rodney Fillery was a former member of the Met, he had reached the rank of Inspector before resigning several years before and starting his own security organisation. Virtually all of his operatives were ex-police, those who were not were computer staff, electronics and junior clerical. Dania Ransom was also ex-police. She was a former Metropolitan Police detective and had spent much time in the fine art and antiques investigations branch.

      “Alright, Penny, I’ll deal with Norman,” she said to the receptionist and turned to Ruddock. “He’s expecting you. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

      Dania was a dark haired woman; she was quite slim, was stylishly dressed and looked years younger than her age. She was married to a Detective Inspector who was still in the Met, and they had two sons in their early twenties who were also in the police force, though they were both constables in country divisions. Dania was also one of Fillery’s field operatives, she had considerable expertise in the field of artistic fakes and forgeries.

      Ruddock didn’t have long to wait, he was admitted to Fillery’s office and invited to take a seat. Fillery was a big man, about 15 stone but little of it was excess fat. In his younger days he had played Rugby Union for many years as a front row forward, and still spent quite a few hours in the gym. He had fair hair, though this was tending to recede now, and he had a small bald patch on his crown. He had a reddish complexion, with heavy jowls, and a ready smile.

      “Good to see you Norman,” he rose and extended his hand. “What have you got for us? I understand it’s an intestacy case.”

      “Looks fairly simple on the face of it,” explained Ruddock. “We’re trying to trace the family of the deceased. We’ve got his birth certificate, he was born in 1924 and he died recently. Surprisingly he never made a will.”

      “Much money involved?”

      “Quite a bit, his name was John Accrington, he was a millionaire, not sure how much offhand, but he was a wealthy man.”

      “And you say there’s no will,” mused Fillery. “It looks as if he fell out with them all, though they usually leave it to charity if they want to spite anyone.”

      “No, he didn’t even do that. Matthew had been on at him during the last few years, but he did nothing about it. We can’t quite get our heads around it, why he did nothing. Matthew reckoned he was coming around to doing something about it when he began to suffer ill health, but events caught up with him before he could act.”

      “What do you mean, events caught up … half a mo! John Accrington? Wasn’t this the man who was murdered in a hotel room some weeks back?”

      “That’s the one,” Ruddock nodded. “They haven’t arrested anyone yet.”

      “So now he’s died intestate, and you want us to find any offspring or relatives. Are any heir hunters onto this yet?”

      “Not that I’m aware,” Ruddock shrugged. “Accrington’s name could well appear on the next list issued by the Treasury.”

      Fillery nodded. He was referring to the firms of professional heir hunters who investigated people who died intestate in the hope of finding relatives, and therefore beneficiaries. These firms worked on a percentage of the value of the funds allocated to any beneficiaries they found.

      “Well we’ll get СКАЧАТЬ