Butlered!
Copyright© 2016 by Gordon Johnson
Chapter 24
Jones seemed pensive. He remarked, “I haven’t bothered to consider if I am doing the best for myself; not for a long time. I should really do my own review of my work, like your company did with you, Jeeves.”
“A good idea, Mr. Jones. Now, I had best get back to my own work.”
“Right enough, Jeeves. I think I need to do another review of the CCTV camera coverage.”
“An excellent endeavour, if you don’t mind me saying so. Good security is essential. Farewell for now.”
The next few days were almost boring, but I never allowed myself to get bored. Attention to detail in a job gives one the intensity of determination that stops boredom in its tracks. I will admit to it being routine, but most tasks have routine built in, and this results in consistency. It is easier to do a job that requires consistency, rather than intellectual effort, but my job requires both, fortunately.
Dawes seemed to have adopted a policy of coping with life as it comes, while Mrs Dawes seemed much cheerier. Having a healthy bank balance does wonders for one’s attitude. Miss Catherine maintained her decorum around me in public, though she sneaked in opportunities to invite me to the garden for a few kisses and cuddles behind a hedge. She made no comment about her newly arrived wealth.
About a week after my encounter with Frobisher, we had another visit by the police. It was back to Sergeant Blenkinsop.
I opened the front door, and welcomed him. “Sergeant Blenkinsop! How nice to see you again? Here for coffee?”
“Alas, no. Business, I am afraid. I have to speak with Mr Dawes.”
“Very well. If you would care to wait inside, I shall see if I can find Mr Dawes.”
I used my phone to call him, being unsure of his present whereabouts. When he answered, I said, “Sergeant Blenkinsop of the local police is here to speak with you, sir. Is it convenient at this time?”
“I suppose so, Jeeves. Show him to my study, and wait outside until I get there.”
He arrived shortly afterwards, still in gardening gear. Gardening? This was unusual for him. I opened the study door for Dawes and Blenkinsop to enter, and stood back. Dawes turned round and beckoned me.
“You too, Jeeves. I need a witness; in case the good sergeant has come to arrest me.” I smiled at the idea, but acceded to his wishes.
Once Dawes had sat down at his desk, Blenkinsop and myself stood in front, like schoolboys in the headmaster’s office. Blenkinsop did not see it that way. He began the conversation.
“Mr Dawes, I have to inform you that the offices of your solicitor were raided at dawn this morning.”
“Good God! Did they break in?”
“No. They escorted the keyholder.” He realised he had not made himself clear. “Perhaps I should rephrase that. The offices were raided by the Solicitors Regulation Authority, in pursuance of a suspected infringement of Section 13 of the Legal Services Act, 2007. The section relates to knowingly providing false or misleading information or documents.
The raid is ongoing, but we have been informed that you may be involved, knowingly or unknowingly, in an attempt at forgery, so I am here to advise you that you may be questioned shortly in regard to any evidence unearthed by the Regulator, and therefore you are advised to engage a different solicitor to provide legal representation.
I must stress, sir, that at this point you are not officially suspected of criminal activity, but it might come to that. My visit is to ensure that you are prepared legally for such an occurrence.”
Dawes looked stunned at first, then I could see his brain was tossing the possibilities about. He knew more than I did about what had been done about the documentation – which is what I suspected this was about.
At last he looked at me, then faced the sergeant.
“Sergeant Blenkinsop, I am grateful to you for informing me of this possibility. I am of course innocent of any direct involvement in forgery. If it is what I suspect it was, I recently asked my lawyer to dig up old documents to support my claim with the financial regulator. I expected him to find the originals in his records, not to manufacture copies. He may have embarked on that to cover up his incompetence in not taking diligent care of the original documents.
That is what I believe must have occurred, but we shall have to wait and see. My butler, Jeeves, is unfortunately too new to my employ to be able to witness the true facts, so I will have to do my own investigation to support my case, if that is what is required.
Thank you again for your visit and advice. I will look for a new solicitor at once.”
Blenkinsop nodded politely. “Thank you for your statement, sir. I have recorded it for reference, as I am sure you would expect. I hope everything goes well for you, sir. Visits to this house have normally been more upbeat, and smoothed with good coffee, for which I thank you, sir.”
Dawes saw where he should go, and responded, “I agree with you, sergeant, and I shall ask Jeeves to offer you some refreshment before you leave on your rounds. For myself, I have things to do, so I bid you farewell.”
Blenkinsop left with me for a mug of the house coffee, pleased with this aspect of his visit. We had a chat while we attended to the important aspects of life.
“What do you think, sergeant? Is he likely to be charged?”
“The regulator doesn’t usually raid a solicitor’s premises without expecting a result, sir, so the chances are that forgery will be uncovered. It is then a matter of deciding who was involved. Mr Dawes has today laid down the basis of his defence, in advance, and it sounds good. It depends on what his solicitor has to say. I have heard that the Regulator can offer a better deal to the solicitor if he comes clean about what happened. That might put Mr Dawes in the thick of it, but I am being premature. You don’t think that accepting a mug of coffee could be construed as a bribe, do you, Mr Jeeves?”
“A bribe for what, sergeant? There is nothing that Mr Dawes can expect to get from you; and in any case he only asked me to offer you some refreshment. That could be seen as him meaning a glass of water, but even if good quality coffee is viewed as something more upmarket, it is I who chose to offer the coffee, not Mr Dawes. You are in the clear, sergeant, and so is Mr Dawes, in that respect at least.”
“Well, I do appreciate the coffee, Mr. Jeeves. My visits here always have that silver lining.”
“You know you are always welcome, sergeant. I cannot say the same for the senior policeman who arrived here to browbeat Mr Dawes. It didn’t end well for either of them.”
“I heard about that through the police grapevine. The sergeant was quite complimentary about you. He reckoned you and he exchanged more information that his boss and Mr Dawes.”
“He may be right about that, sergeant. Churchill famously said that jaw-jaw was better than war-war. I agree with him for many other conflicting situations.”
“Well, I had better get on with my work, Mr. Jeeves. Thanks again for your hospitality. Be careful with Mr Dawes. I expect he will end up being charged, if his solicitor sees his own neck as more valuable than his client’s neck.”
He was proved correct, for two days later a policeman from the Fraud Office appeared at the door.
I allowed him in, when he asked to speak with Mr Dawes. “Please wait here, sir, while I see where Mr Dawes wishes to meet you.” I got a raised eyebrow, but the Inspector left it at that.
I already knew where he was, so walked to his study door, and knocked.
“Yes?”
“Jeeves, sir. A police inspector wishes to converse with you. Do you wish to meet him in the study, or elsewhere?”
“Bring him to the study, Jeeves.”
I went back to the policeman, who stared at me. “Jeeves?” he queried.
“Yes, sir?”
“You are actually named Jeeves, I meant?”
“All high class butlers supplied by Jeeves and Company are named Jeeves, Inspector. It is a trademark of excellence.”
“Well, Jeeves, lead me to your master.”
“At once, sir. Your name, please, sir?”
“Roberts.”
“Thank you, sir.” I gestured the direction, and we set off for the study, where I rapped on the door again.
“Yes?”
“Police Inspector Roberts for you, sir.”
“Fine. Show him in, Jeeves.”
I opened the door wide, to allow the policeman to enter. Dawes stood behind his desk, and extended a hand to the policeman.
“Welcome to my home, Inspector. What can I do for you?”
“It is my unfortunate duty, sir, to inform you that I have come to arrest you.”
“On what charge?”
“Complicity in forging legal documents, sir. I have to advise you that you should seek legal advice before you are interviewed at the police station.”
“This charge is ridiculous, Inspector, but you are simply doing your duty. Tom what police station will I be taken for interview?”
“Most probably West Hampstead for convenience, sir, unless the interview rooms are all in use. Do you have a personal preference?”
“I have never been arrested before, Inspector, so I do not know whether one or other is better. As long as my solicitor is notified, that is all that matters.”
“You may phone him now, sir, before we leave, or you can phone him from the police station.”
“I think I will get him started, so that time is not wasted.”
We stood there while Dawes sat and phoned his new solicitor, and we listened while he arranged for the man’s attendance as Dawes’ legal representative. I was amused to hear the solicitor saying, “Admit nothing, Mr Dawes, until I get there.”
I wondered if that could mean, he could admit anything after the lawyer was present!
Dawes concluded his call and stood up.
“Jeeves, notify Mrs Dawes, Catherine, and make sure Mr Jones is informed about the situation. He should stay to protect the house and household. I do not want either of the ladies to visit me unless I am held overnight.”
“I shall do as you command, sir.” I replied.
The Inspected gestured towards the door. “Shall we go, sir? I am sure there is no need for handcuffs.”
“Indeed not, Inspector. An innocent man has no need to abscond.”
As soon as they had left, I sought out Mrs Hargreaves. “Chef, the police have just arrested Mr Dawes. Can you have something ready for Mrs Dawes, should she have any symptoms of shock?”
“Will do, Mr. Jeeves. Thanks for the warning.”
I next phone to Mrs Dawes, to ask where she was at present.
“I am in the drawing room, Jeeves. Why do you ask?”
“I have to deliver in person a message from Mr Dawes, madam.”
“Well, jump to it, man.” She was still afflicted with this bossy mode, it seemed.
I walked to the drawing room and entered. She was seated near the fireplace, sewing a small tapestry – one of her hobbies. I went up to her and stood erect. She looked up at me. “Well?”
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