Thread of Evidence

The brutal slaying of a successful real estate developer prompts an investigation by DCI Neil Paget and his motley crew of police officers into the many suspects who may have benefited from his death. Reprint.

  CHAPTER 1SATURDAY, 23 SEPTEMBER
“I want that man out of here. Understand? He’s been here the best part of two hours, and I have people waiting. I want him out now!”“But I can’t simply tell him to leave,” the waiter objected. “You know what Mr. Bolen’s like. Besides, he just ordered another drink.”Leonardo, maître d’ and absolute ruler of the Elizabethan Room, bristled. “I said, get rid of him!” he hissed fiercely. “I don’t care how you do it, but do it.”The waiter sighed as he made his way toward the corner table where a well-built, dark-haired man sat hunched over a sheaf of papers and a pocket calculator, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. “If there is nothing else, Mr. Bolen,” he ventured, “perhaps you would like ... ?”“Ah! There you are, lad.” Jim Bolen didn’t look up, but continued to write. “Thought you’d left for the night or gone on your holidays. What do you call this?” He shoved his drink across the table, slopping it on the cloth.“Irish whiskey, sir. That is what you ordered, and—”“I know what I ordered, and it wasn’t this muck. Who’s on the bar tonight?”“Bingham, sir, but—”Bolen grunted. “Thought as much. Take this back and tell Bingham that when I order Irish, I don’t mean water from the bog, and if he tries it on again it will be the last drink he serves in this hotel. Got that?”“Yes, Mr. Bolen. I’m sorry, Mr. Bolen.”Bolen lifted his head and favoured the waiter with a smile. “And you’ll be gone as well,” he said pleasantly, “since you no doubt split the take with Bingham.”The waiter opened his mouth to protest, then wisely closed it. No point in digging himself in deeper, especially when the man was right. He removed the offending drink and made for the bar, aware of Leonardo’s smouldering eyes boring into his back as he left the room.Jim Bolen tossed his pencil aside. He leaned back and closed his eyes. It would be tight, damned tight, but if he could bring this off it would be worth it. A grim smile touched the corners of his mouth. Lambert would be as good as finished.He drew in a long breath and let it out again as he savoured the thought. He’d waited a long time for this.“You devious bastard!” The words were spoken softly, but there was no mistaking their hostility. “Laura said I’d find you here. Getting everything sorted for Monday’s meeting, are you, Jim?”Jim Bolen stifled a groan. That voice was the last one he’d expected to hear this evening. A welcoming smile spread across his rugged features as he opened his eyes. “Harry!” he said expansively. “I wasn’t expecting you back for another week.” His expression changed to one of concern. “Nothing wrong, is there? Dee’s not ill, is she? The kids all right?”Harry Bolen pulled a chair away from an adjoining table and sat down facing his brother. Jim was the elder of the two, and heavierset than his brother, but so similar was their appearance that they were often mistaken for twins. Both were six feet tall, broad-shouldered, and both had the same deep-set eyes and unruly hair—except it was Harry, at age fifty, whose hair was beginning to turn grey.Harry shook his head impatiently. “You know damned well why I’m back,” he told his brother, “and it has nothing to do with Dee and the kids. Laura phoned me in Vancouver. Said she’d tried to stop you going through with this nonsense, but you wouldn’t listen. She said you were going to be meeting here with the Whitehall crowd on Monday to present the proposal.”He paused, holding his brother’s gaze while he lit a cigarette. “She also told me that you had thrown her out,” he went on softly. “So would you like to tell me just what the hell is going on?”Jim Bolen shook his head and sighed heavily. “God knows I didn’t want to, Harry,” he said, “but Laura’s in bed with Lambert. Has been for months, and I couldn’t ...”“In bed with—” Harry’s voice began to rise before he cut himself off abruptly as diners at the next table turned to look. “I don’t believe it! Laura having an affair? With Lambert?”Jim shook his head impatiently. “I didn’t mean that literally, for God’s sake. I meant she’s been talking to him—or I should say listening to him, and taking his side. He’s running scared and he’s trying to get at me through her. At us. He can’t stop us any other way, and he can see the writing on the wall. When this deal goes through, he’ll be as good as finished.”Harry’s eyes hardened. “And that’s what this is all about, isn’t it?” he said. “Get Lambert, never mind the cost. Never mind what it’s doing to your marriage or to those around you. For Christ’s sake, Jim, forget it. We went through all this before I left and you agreed to let it drop.”He reached for an ashtray and ground out his cigarette. “I should have known there was something up when you were so keen for us to go off to Canada to see the kids and our new granddaughter. You thought you’d have it all sewn up by the time we got back, didn’t you? Well, in this case, I’m with Laura, and I’m damned glad she rang me and I came back in time.”Harry Bolen leaned across the table. “It won’t work, Jim,” he went on earnestly. “I won’t let you destroy our business. It’s taken us too many years to build it up, and I won’t be a party to this.”“You already are.”Harry’s eyes narrowed. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”Jim shrugged. “It means, little brother, that those papers you signed in such a hurry before you left gave me full signing authority. The deal is as good as done. All I have to do on Monday is present our proposal and our bid and we’re in business.”Harry leaned back in his chair and shook his head slowly from side to side. “Oh, no,” he said quietly. “I’ve gone along with you on a lot of things, Jim, but this time you’ve gone too far. Destroying Lambert is an obsession with you. Leave it alone, Jim. We have all the business we can handle now. Why go on with this when you know it will ruin us?”“Why? You have to ask why?” Jim Bolen stared at his brother as if baffled by the question. “For God’s sake, Harry, he killed our father! Isn’t that reason enough?”Harry brushed the words aside. “We don’t know that,” he said. “The witnesses at the inquest were all—”“—bought off by Sam Lambert!” Jim Bolen snarled. “You know it and I know it. And what about our mother?”“Oh, for God’s sake, Jim, she would have died anyway. The doctor made that very plain, so don’t try to blame Lambert for that. Besides, it was a long time ago. It’s over; let it go.”“Christ! You’re just as soft as Laura. Has Lambert been getting at you as well?”Harry regarded his brother stonily. There was no reasoning with him on this subject; he’d been foolish even to try. He tried another tack. “Look, Jim, forget Lambert for a minute. Think of the business. Now is not the time to be over-extended, and we’ll be in over our heads if you go ahead with this scheme. Let Lambert take this one on. It’s too risky for us. Besides, he’ll probably outbid you anyway.”Jim Bolen smiled. “Not a chance,” he said.“You don’t know that,” said Harry irritably. He could barely restrain himself from leaning across the table to wipe the smug look from his brother’s face.“But I do, Harry. I do.”“How?”The smile on Jim Bolen’s face deepened as he tapped the side of his nose with a forefinger. “Never mind how I know, Harry, boy. But you can take my word for it, I know!”“I wouldn’t take your word for the time of day, at the moment,” snapped Harry. “Besides, where’s the money coming from? Tell me that.”“We have the money.”Harry became very still, and suddenly felt cold. “What do you mean, we have the money?” he breathed. “What have you done?”Jim remained silent for a moment. “Mortgaged the house,” he said at last. Harry frowned. Brookside was worth at least seven hundred thousand, but that was nowhere near enough. “And the Bolen Building,” his brother added. “And the banks are prepared to back us.”“Using what for collateral?” Harry scoffed. It would take more than the house and their office building to swing the Ockrington deal.Jim Bolen leaned back in his chair and smiled again. “Bolen Brothers,” he said softly.Harry could feel the blood draining from his face, and it seemed as if his veins were filled with ice. “You’ve no right!” he whispered hoarsely. “Damn you, Jim!” His open palm hit the table like a pistol shot, and a woman at an adjoining table jumped and spilled her soup. Leonardo, at his post beside the door, started forward, then thought better of it when he saw the look on Harry’s face. He turned away and busied himself with menus.Harry rose slowly to his feet, his face white with anger. “You’re out of your mind,” he said contemptuously. “This thing with Lambert has scrambled your brains, and I’m not going to stand by and see you destroy the business we’ve worked so hard to build. I’m going to stop you, Jim. By God, I’ll stop you dead!” Harry thrust the chair back so hard that it fell and spun across the floor. The hum of conversation died, and every eye in the room followed him as he strode toward the door.THREAD OF EVIDENCE. Copyright © 2001 by Frank Smith.