Alan Petrillo - Asylum Lane

“This money you refer to. Where did it come from?”

Lund lowered his head again. “From Miss Waddington’s trust fund. The Reverend Elsworth would set up the phony invoices and have me pay them. Then he would give a percentage of the money for my services. I know now the money was to keep my mouth shut.”

“Very good, Mr. Lund. You are learning about the criminal mind. And how much money are we discussing here?”

“I had two thousand pounds accumulated.”

Round Freddy sat back again and whistled silently. He steepled his fingers again. “Please continue.”

“As I said, I couldn’t very well leave two thousand pounds laying around my flat and I certainly couldn’t put it in a bank deposit in my name. How would I explain where I got two thousand pounds?”

“Indeed! So you found a broker to invest the money for you.”

Lund nodded vigorously. “Yes, I did and things went well at the beginning. Investments were going to be made through a company set up for the purpose of holding real estate and sheltering the cash. I would be a partner, but an unreported one on the papers establishing the company.”

“Would the managing partner be this individual to whom you were referred by your colleague?”

“The Dealer. That’s him. He’s the one who would buy the property and hold it through the company for me. He said I would make a pile of cash from the appreciation on the freeholds.”

“The Dealer, you say. Did he give you any other name?”

“That’s what everyone calls him. I doubt that he has any other name.”

“Well, I’m sure he does, but he may not be using it on a regular basis. Where did you two meet to transact your business?”

“The Hound and Hen public house. You can find it on Blake Street.”

“I know the place. A den of vipers waiting to prey on the unsuspecting.” Round Freddy came around to the front of the desk and leaned against it.”

“Are you willing to help us a bit more on this case, Mr. Lund? It could work greatly in your favor.”

“Help you how? I’ve told you all that I know.”

“First, you’ll have to furnish me with an accurate description of the Dealer.”

“I can do that.”

“And then, you can help us in this way.”

Lund sat statue-still as Round Freddy outlined what he had in mind. When the detective finished, he fixed Lund with a questioning gaze.

Lund thought for a moment and then decided.

“All right, I shall do it. As long as no physical harm can come to me by participating.”

“There is no danger of that. Just be sure that the information you give us is true and accurate. I cannot guarantee anyone’s safety on false information.”

Lund gulped down the bile in his throat. He knew he was stuck. He had to cooperate.

Reverend Elsworth opened the sitting room door and, after taking a long look at Fletcher standing a few feet away with the shotgun, called into the hallway for the housekeeper. When she appeared, the reverend noticed Fletcher shrink back against the wall.

“Mr. Fletcher will be spending some time with us. Please make up the large guest room for his use.”

“Very good, sir. Will his stay be long?” the housekeeper asked.

“I am unsure. I should think a few days at least. And tell the cook she should plan accordingly. Now run along.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

After the reverend shut the door and moved toward the sofa in front of the long windows, Fletcher shuffled forward and leaned against the door.

“Now that twern’t overly difficult, vicar. And here I was thinking you might not want to have me as your guest.” He snorted a laugh and wiped spittle from his lips with the back of his hand. “Let’s talk a bit more about how the police seem to be aware of me.”

“I can tell you I had nothing to do with the police getting your name. If they know who you are, and I cannot confirm that they do, then they certainly have learned it from a source other than me."

“Is that so? You mean to sit there and tell me you haven’t talked to the police?”

“That is not what I said. Of course I have spoken with the police. They have questioned me several times about my niece’s disappearance and death. I told them nothing. Not anything of our arrangement, and certainly not your name.”

A sly smile crept across Fletcher’s face and he rubbed his empty eye socket vigorously under the eye patch.

“For the time being I’ll have to trust you, vicar. But be aware that you shall regret it if you’re lying to me.”

“Really, Fletcher. I am a man of the cloth. Lying is not in my character.”

Fletcher’s explosive laugh filled the room.

“Not in your character? But cheating, stealing and plotting to kill are, eh?”

The reverend’s face reddened, but he said nothing in reply.

“Let’s talk about another subject dear to both our hearts. Money.”

The reverend’s eyes narrowed. “We are square as far as the money is concerned, Fletcher. I paid you off in the yard of York Minster, as you well know.”

“That you did, vicar. But I got to thinking about how I done all the dirty work whilst you reaped most of the benefits. And now the police are looking for a man called Fletcher. For all I knows, they might have a pretty accurate description of me too. The more I thought on the subject, the more I convinced meself that I was being shortchanged.”

The reverend shot to his feet. “Now see here, you cannot possibly want more money.”

Fletcher drove the butt stock of the shotgun into the vicar’s stomach, doubling him in half and driving him back onto the sofa. As the vicar gagged and fought for breath, Fletcher stepped back and spat on the carpet.

“Let that be the first installment on some of that regret we was talking about earlier.” Fletcher moved to the window and pulled the curtain aside. “Looks as if it will be a pleasant day, vicar. After we’re done here, maybe we’ll take a stroll in your back garden.”

The reverend had pulled himself upright and was taking short wheezing breaths, still holding his stomach.

“From what I’ve heard, you’ve come into some extra money, vicar. Perhaps you were lucky and found it buried somewhere?” Fletcher studied the reverend’s distorted face and chuckled. “No, methinks that’s not where you found your pot of gold. But maybe it were somewhere closer to where money is usually located — like a bank.”

The reverend’s eyes widened. “Fletcher,” he gasped. “I must have a drink of water.”

“In a minute, vicar. But first we’re going to talk about how much money you have available to share with me.”

“I have nothing available to share. All the money I had is gone — invested.”

Fletcher’s eyebrows raised. “All of it? You invested everything you stole?”

The reverend nodded.

“And how much might that be?”

The reverend hesitated and Fletcher took a step forward with the shotgun.

“Five thousand pounds! But I don’t have it any more. As I said, it has been invested.”

“Well then we shall have to un-invest it for you.”

“That is impossible. The man with whom I placed the funds, my business partner, already has plans for it. He most likely has already made the purchases.”

“What purchases?”

“Freehold properties.”

Fletcher thought for a moment. Then he grasped the reverend’s elbow and pulled him to his feet.

“Let’s take that walk in the garden now, vicar, so you can tell me more about this partner of yours. Then I’ll go and convince him to take on old Fletcher as a partner too.”

“One wonders how these buggars sleep at night,” Round Freddy said, moving behind his desk and sitting down heavily.