Val McDermid - Kickback

'I see,' said Mary Wright. 'Won't you sit down, gentlemen?'

As soon as his backside hit the chair, Jack was off and running, his pitch fluent and flawless as he sucked Mary Wright into the purchase of a conservatory she didn't need at a price she couldn't afford for a house that wasn't hers. Every now and again, he sought a response from her, and she chimed in as obediently as the triangle player in the orchestra counting the bars till the next tinkling note. They established that her husband was working abroad, what kind of conservatory she favoured, her monthly incomings and outgoings. Jack conducted the whole exposition as if it were a symphony.

Eventually, Ted was dispatched out the back with a tape measure and notebook. That was when it really got interesting. 'Slight problem,' Jack said in a low voice. 'Ted's having aggravation with the bank.'

'You mean, because of us?' Mary Wright asked.

'Probably Anyway, bottom line is, I can't get a finance deal through the usual channels. We're going to have to arrange the finance ourselves, but that shouldn't be too hard. I've got the names of a couple of brokerages where they don't ask too many questions. The only thing we'll lose out on is the finance company kick back to me, but we'll just have to live with that. I'm only warning you, because the close will be a bit different. OK?' he said, as laid back as if he was asking for a second cup of tea.

'Sure, I'll busk it. But listen, Jack, if the bank's being difficult, maybe we should pack it in before it starts getting dangerous,' the woman said.

'Look, Liz, there's no way they could trace it back to us. We've covered our tracks perfectly. I agree, we should quit while we're ahead. But we've already got the next two up and running. Let's see them through, then we'll take a break, OK? Go off to the sun and spend some of the loot?' Jack said reassuringly. If I'd have been her, I'd probably have fallen for it too. He had the real salesman's voice, all honey and reassurance. If he'd become a surgeon, he'd have had sacks of mail every Christmas from adoring patients.

'OK. Are you coming back here tonight?' she asked.

'How could I stay away?' he parried.

Then we'll talk about it later.' Whatever else she was going to say was cut off by the return of Ted.

'If you'll just give me a minute with the old pocket calculator, I'll give you a price on the unit you'd decided on,” Ted said. The presumptive close.

The price Ted quoted made my eyes cross. Of course, Liz/Mary didn't turn a hair. 'I see.” she said.

'Normally, we could offer you our own financial package, sponsored by one of the major clearing banks.” Jack said. 'Unfortunately, we at Colonial Conservatories are the victims of our own success, and we have surpassed our target figures for this quarter. As a result, the finance company aren't in a position to supply any more cash to our customers, because of course they have limits themselves and, unlike us, they have people looking over their shoulders to make sure they don't exceed those limits. But what I would suggest is that you consult a mortgage broker and arrange to remortgage for an amount that will cover the installation of your conservatory,” he added persuasively. 'It's the most effective way of utilizing the equity you have tied up in your home.'

'What about a second mortgage? Wouldn't that do just as well?' Liz/Mary asked.

Ted cleared his throat. 'I think you'll find, Mrs. Wright, that most lenders prefer a remortgage, especially bearing in mind that our house prices up here in the North West have started dropping a tad. You see, if there were to be any problems in the future and the house had to be sold, sometimes it happens that there isn't enough money left in the pot for the lender of the second mortgage after the first lender has been paid off, if you see what I mean. And then the holder of the second charge doesn't have any way of getting his money back, if you follow me. And lenders are very keen on knowing they could get their cash back if push comes to shove, so they mostly prefer you to get a remortgage that pays off the first mortgage and leaves you with a few bob left over.' I couldn't see Ted getting a job presenting The Money Programme, but he'd put it clearly enough. What a pity he'd wasted it on a pair of crooks who'd forgotten more than he ever knew about property loans and how to exploit them.

'So what happens now?' the woman asked.

'Well, you have to talk to a mortgage broker and arrange this remortgage. And of course, if you need any advice filling in the forms, don't hesitate to call me. I could fill these things in in my sleep. Then, as soon as you get confirmation of the remortgage, let us know and we'll have your conservatory installed within the week,' Jack said confidently.

'As quickly as that? Oh, that's wonderful! It'll be in when my husband comes home for Christmas,' she exclaimed. Shame, really. She could have been earning an honest living treading the boards.

'No problem,' Jack said.

Ten minutes later, Jack and Ted were walking back to the car, slapping each other on the back. Poor sod, I thought. I wasn't relishing the revelation that the person responsible for the wrecking of his business was his good buddy Jack. The whole thing had taken just over an hour. I reckoned that in a dozen of those hours spread over the last year, Liz and Jack must have cleared the best part of half a million quid. It was gobsmacking. The most gobsmacking thing about it was how simple it all was. I still had a few loose ends to tie up, but I had a pretty clear picture now of how they had scammed their way to a fortune.

Since Jack had promised he'd be back later, I decided to stay put. It was a freezing cold night, frost forming on the roofs of the parked cars, and my feet were like ice. I knew I couldn't endure a couple more hours of that, so I nipped back to the van swapped my thin-soled court shoes for a pair of thick sports socks and my Reeboks. The feeling returned to my feet almost as soon as I tied my laces. Wonderful invention, trainers. The only problem comes when you go striding into an important business meeting, done up to the nines in your best suit, then you look down and realize that instead of your chic Italian shoes, you're still wearing the Reeboks you drove there in. I know, I was that soldier.

Left to her own devices, Liz was clearly lost without the box. We caught the tail-end of the nine o'clock news, the weather (the usual tidings of comfort and joy; freezing fog in the Midlands, ground frost in the north, rain tomorrow), then a dire American mini-series started. I wished I could change channels. Instead, I turned the receiver volume down low enough to tune out anything other than phone calls or conversations and opened up the laptop.

I'd tried all the obvious ones. Martin, Martina, Cheetham, Tamarind, Lomax, Nell, Harris, scam, land, deeds, titles, secret, locked, private, drag, Dietrich, Bassey, Garland, Marilyn, password. No joy. I was running out of inspiration when my phone rang. 'Hello?' I said.

'Kate? Alexis.' As if she needed to tell me. 'Listen, I had a brainwave.'

My heart sank. 'What?' I asked.

“I remembered that the Sunday Star's got a reporter called Gerry Carter who lives in Buxton. Now, I've never actually met the guy, on account of the Sundays don't usually hang out with the pack, but I dug his number out of a mate of his and gave him a call, hack to hack.'

I was interested now I realized her brainwave didn't involve me in anything illegal or life-threatening. 'And did he have anything useful to say?'

'He knows Brian Lomax. In fact, he lives about five houses down from Lomax.' Alexis paused to let that sink in.

'And?' I asked.

'I think I know who the mystery woman is.'

'Alexis, you already have one hundred per cent of my attention. Stop tantalizing me as if I was a bloody-minded news editor. Cough it!' I demanded, frustrated.