Skinner's rules

54

A police car took Skinner to the Abbey National Building Society for his 10.15 appointment with the manager, a small neat man, curious as to the reason for Skinner’s visit.

Skinner accepted black tea in a thick, ugly cup. ‘Thank you for seein me at such short notice, Mr Needham,’ he began.

‘I believe that Mr Michael Mortimer, an advocate, was, until his recent death, one of your depositors.’

Needham nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right. And a mortgage holder.’

‘I’m looking into his financial affairs. I have some of his personal records and I want to cross-check these with his account information here. I know that you have no obligation to assist me, but the matter is urgent, and the man is dead, so I hope that it won’t be necessary to go through formal procedures. I’d rather keep this completely off-the-record.’

Needham held up his hand in an affirmatory gesture. ‘That doesn’t caus me a problem, Mr Skinner. I take it that you want the details of both investment accounts.’

‘Both?’

‘Yes. He had two. One was used for regular monthly transfers from the Royal Bank, as a sort of business account, I think. From memory, the balance stands at almost thirty thousand pounds at the moment. The other is joint, in the names of Mr Mortimer and Miss, or is it Ms, Rachel Jameson It was opened in June, with a cash deposit of five thousand pounds.’

Successfully, Skinner concealed his excitement. ‘Any payment since then?’

‘Yes, in October a further fifteen thousand pounds was deposited again in cash.’

‘Can you give me the exact dates of these transactions?’

‘Of course.’ Needham rose from his chair and crossed to a four-drawe filing cabinet. He opened the second drawer from the top, looked inside and withdrew a folder. ‘Here we are. The account was opened by Mr Mortimer and Miss Jameson on June the twenty-first. The second deposit was made by Mr Mortimer on October the sixteenth.

‘I shouldn’t, but I’ll give you photocopies of these, and of the other account transactions for the last twelve months. Back in a few moments.’

When the door closed behind the little man, Skinner whistled to himself. Twenty grand! A tasty fee; but for what?

Needham reappeared a few moments later, and handed him a large brown envelope, sealed.

‘Thank you, Mr Needham. You’ve been very helpful.’

‘My pleasure.’ He escorted Skinner to the door.