Chapter 7

“Foam filling? The inflammable stuff that is now illegal?” asked Reg.

“Hey, you are probably right, Reg. Either the house owner had this sofa sitting there for years, or Fitzgerald brought it in by his own choice.”

“Sergeant, the regulations on furniture foam filling came into force in 1988, so the sofa must be pretty old, not to say decrepit, unless it was not used much previously. Can Fitzgerald possibly claim the explosive must have been there already? It seems unlikely, if such an explosive did not exist until recently.”

“No, it is almost impossible for the sofa to have been present in rented premises for all that time. The landlord would be in serious legal trouble if he still had flammable furniture in use by his tenants, so we think Fitzgerald brought the sofa in, specifically so he could utilise this prepared hiding place.

Forensics say the fastenings holding the material into the filling were more modern, and they found a fingerprint on the plastic bag containing the explosive. The fingerprint matches Fitzgerald, so the major task is identifying the explosive as stolen.”

Reg proposed, “If he was claiming to have independently invented the explosive, he would have needed a laboratory to do it. This stuff, as I understand it, is pretty rare and has only been made in small quantities, with some technical difficulty. If he just had material stolen from the university labs, it would only be a few grams. If what he has is much more, then either he has a high-tech lab to make more, or what he possesses has been adulterated with other material to make it more manageable and less unstable. Even for that case, he would need facilities not readily accessible.”

“Interesting,” Sergeant Phillips murmured. “I wonder if the local bobbies thought about that. I will make enquiries on that matter. I don’t even know what the quantity was that they found; they didn’t inform me.”

He proceeded to make some notes in his police notebook before speaking again.

“By the way, Reg, I was interested in how you managed to hide Mrs Sadaf during the visit of the police a few days back, so I visited the council planning department and asked to see the plans for your building.”

Reg protested, “It is not MY building, Sergeant. It belongs to Mr LeBrun, or to his company: I was not clear on the legal ownership, exactly, but his company lawyer says it is his, personally; so I expect that is the case. We are tenants in the building, according to his records.”

Sergeant Phillips laughed in delight as he confirmed, “It is listed as owned by Paul LeBrun, Reg, and I found that the building has a basement that I didn’t know existed. Is that where Mrs Sadaf was secreted?”

“She was not secreted, Sergeant, merely sent down to the wine cellar to compile an updated inventory. I knew nothing about the basement either, until I got home that day. The basement is where the wine cellar is located, and the central heating boiler as well.”

The policeman looked embarrassed as he revealed, “The plans I saw show the entrance and stairway as off the front hallway, but I was present years back when the building was searched looking for drugs. There was a door in the hallway, but it was just a walk-in cupboard for raincoats and hats.”

Reg smiled back, “You are quite correct, sir, but the back wall of the cupboard turns out to be a secret door to the basement. There is a concrete stairway down into that level. We have now explored the place, and found some odds and ends.”

The Sergeant’s eyes widened, as he joined the dots and made a picture. “The counterfeit notes? Were they down there?”

Reg nodded. “The package was found in a cupboard in the basement, and we deduced they must be forged notes, as they were so clearly new. You don’t store stacks of new genuine five pound notes in an unlocked cupboard!

I saw that some of the five pound notes are ones no longer in circulation, so I reckoned these, and probably the rest of the bale, were worthless; forged or not. Just to be on the safe side, we handed the whole lot over to your staff.”

“That’s right; they were indeed forgeries. Was that the lot?”

Reg chose his words carefully. “That package was the only thing we discovered there that we could identify as probably illegal, so in accordance with the law we passed it to the police.”

The policeman’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Reg’s face. “I see. The only identifiable illegal material, you say?”

“That is the case, sir.”

“One presumes there was more.”

“Indeed so. It was a basement used for storage of all sorts of things. There were several shelves with packets of plastic zip-lok bags, scales and funnels; all of which had multi-purpose uses, of course.”

“Of course. The fact that they could have been used in a drug distribution operation had nothing to do with it?”

“Could they have been used in that way, sir? My goodness? I never knew! Dear me. Would you want these things to be handed in to you at the police station?”

Terence grimaced. “No, thank you. It would just be a nuisance to my men, for no good purpose, with the criminal dead and buried. Nothing else?”

“As I explained earlier, nothing that one could identify as being illegal or part of an illegal operation. There were some artworks stored down there, but I have no idea if they were originals or just copies; the wine cellar also has a good collection of wines, but all of that would have come into Mr LeBrun’s ownership with his purchase of the building. We told him of this art collection, and he is removing it for examination by experts, to see if it has any value. He has left the wines for us, it seems, so we have made an inventory so that we know what we have sitting there.”

Reg made as if to have a sudden thought, and remarked, “You don’t think the wines or the artwork could have anything to do with that drug business, do you? Would there be some means of identifying any of it as stolen property? Can you identify bottles of wine in that way?”

“I very much doubt it, Reg. Mr LeBrun has taken charge of the artwork?”

“He either has or will do in a day or so. He proposes to ascertain whether each item is original, an innocent copy, or a deliberate fake. He told me he would check the final inventory against lists of stolen art, and hand over any which can be identified as stolen property. He is an honest man, is Frances’ father.”

Sergeant Phillips nodded wearily. He could see that he had no leverage to apply. He commented, “I hope that some at least will be stolen property, so that the owners can have them back.”

Reg agreed. “My father-in-law will ensure that happens if it proves to be the case, Sergeant. Oh, I just remembered: there were some ledgers that we found sitting in an old safe in the basement, with lists of names and such. We haven’t had a proper look at them. Would you like to see them?”

The Sergeant’s head jerked up and he exclaimed, “Would I? You bet! This may be evidence of his drug operation, or his counterfeit money operation, or both. When can I have them?”

“I brought them upstairs yesterday. I expect you could have them now, if you think they may be of interest to you. You will return them if they are not related to crime, Sergeant?” Reg was determined to maintain his innocent stance.

“Of course. If they are innocent documents, I will ensure they are returned to you, Reg; probably bring them myself.”

Reg led him to his study, where the ledgers were laid carelessly on a chair. He gestured, “Help yourself, Sergeant. I hope they prove useful to you.”

Terence grabbed up the set of books, and flicked open the cover of the top one. His eyes were glued to the writing, and he could be heard speaking softly to himself. “Good, he’s here ... that one’s in prison ... that one’s dead ... oh, I didn’t know about him...” He suddenly came to be aware that Reg was peering at him with a concerned look.

“What do you think, Sergeant?” he asked, all innocence.

“No, it is a fine collection of ledgers, Reg. I recognised a few names on the very first page, so I think it unlikely you will see these back again. They will be evidence in some cases, I do believe, if we can find the deceased’s fingerprints on any of these ledger pages. Have you handled them, yourself?”

“Oh, not inside; only the outside covers. Excellent, then, if they have some value to you. Take them away, Sergeant, and get yourself home to your family soon.”

“Thanks again, Reg. Give my regard to your ... your whole household.” He grinned to acknowledge that he meant everyone in the building, including the non-evident Jessica.

Reg grinned back, then escorted the policeman to the door and outside. Waving goodbye to the departing policeman, he returned inside and nonchalantly returned to his study to tidy things up. He had left it untidy so that the ledgers would fit that scenario of carelessness and nonchalant abandon. He chuckled to himself as he organised the study again. That discussion had gone well!

After that, he returned to chat with his family until mealtime.

Once they had all eaten, Frances noticed Reg checking his watch for the time, and wondered why. Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and Reg jumped to his feet to answer it. Frances wondered again at this sudden activity; it was not normal for Reg to hide things from her.

Reg returned with a well-dressed lady, face fully made up, and carrying a capacious business briefcase. Reg introduced her.

“Ladies, This is Mrs Dawn Thyme – genuinely her name, I assure you – and she represents Allure Beauty. She is a professional beautician, and I have engaged her to apply her talents to every lady in this household, prior to our appointment on Saturday: hair, faces, and hands. I want my girls to be at their best; and to my astonishment she tells me she can make improvements to my face as well – probably make me look like a clown!”

His joke allowed everyone to laugh while Dawn cast her gaze over the assembled women. She at once realised that her cosmetic task would be a serious one, but she knew her stuff, and welcomed a challenge. While Reg excused himself to bring in the twins, she explained her presence.

“I was phoned by Mr Robertson a few days back. He explained that you were all going to a wedding on Saturday, and as a treat he wanted to pay for each of you to gain some effect from our services. He specifically asked that I come in advance to meet you and get a look at you. We prefer to take a head and shoulders photo of each lady, allowing us to do advance planning for what suits your visage, to show you at your best.”

Frances took the opportunity to make a comment.

“You will see that you have your work cut out for you, Mrs Thyme. Reg has no qualms about our looks; he takes us as we are. He loves us for our inward beauty, he says!”

Mrs Thyme had been speculating what to say to them; but now she relaxed.

“Excellent! That is my task, madame: to present your inner beauty in a more outward way. We have techniques to do this quite effectively. Misdirection is one of these. If you have a stunning hairstyle, and an attractive sparkling necklace, attention is drawn to them rather than to any possible defect or blemish around your face. A set of breathtaking earrings can also assist this process, but just like theatrical make-up, good cosmetic artistry can enhance your features in any way you desire.”

Erika burst into tears, and Dawn rushed to apologise for anything she had said to disturb the young woman.

“I am so sorry, madame, if I have said something to upset you.”

Erika pulled herself together, and responded, “Not you. I am not upset, just overwhelmed that Reg would do this for us. He is a wonderful man!”

Just then, Reg and the twins came through the living room door. He went to speak, but Frances raised a finger to her lips, so he halted, confused, not knowing what had been said before he walked in.

Frances told Mrs Thyme, “We know we are not pretty, Mrs Thyme, but Reg sees things in us we never believed possible. It seems he even senses a beauty that we failed to notice. We need nothing for Reg’s benefit, but if you can do anything to help us look better to the outside world, we will be pleased to cooperate with you. I am so very impressed with Reg’s thoughtfulness. You can get started right away, Mrs Thyme: photos, you said?”

“Yes, I need to take these away, along with height and body measurements. This lets me and my team prepare our plan for each person. If someone is very tall, like this lady,” she gestured at Prudence, “then a dress featuring horizontal lines will be an advantage in de-emphasizing her vertical stature. We can do enough with her facial characteristics so that her hair and jewellery need not be so attention-grabbing in her case.”

Prudence nodded agreement. She assured Frances, “She knows her stuff, Frances. Let’s just go with the flow, and make Reg proud of us on Saturday.”

Mrs Thyme smiled pleasantly, and said to Reg, “Your sisters appear to be pleased with your gift, Mr Robertson, It will be a pleasure to do our best for you.”

Reg smiled back. “Thank you, Mrs Thyme. I don’t actually have a sister, but the thought was admirable. I shall leave you to start your work.” Mrs Thyme stared at his back as he left. She was lost for words. If they were not his sisters, what were they to him? Cousins, probably, she decided, here for the wedding, and relaxed.

Reg ambled through to his study. He had an appointment with Sidra, as soon as she was free from the Thyme preparatory treatment.

He was heavily involved in an examination of so-called ‘bulletproof’ glass, which was composed of alternate layers of glass and plastic: an extension of the laminated glass idea that dated back to 1909. In the modern version, the glass might shatter, but the surrounding plastic layers held it together and spread the impact energy to the sides, so that the forward impact into the second glass layer was much reduced. The layers ended with a final polycarbonate layer to prevent spalling inside a vehicle or room.

To make the glass sheet more protective against higher impact weapons, you simply added more layers sufficient to prevent even a high-velocity bullet from penetrating all the way through. If it did get through, its energy was spent, so it should no longer be able to cause harm.

These extra layers made the windows much, much heavier and more opaque, such that they became impractical for a car windscreen. The light coming through a windscreen has to be sufficient for good visibility of the road ahead. Reduced visibility would make the windscreen illegal on the public roads; so the windscreen could not be as bulletproof as the other windows. The partition between driver and the rear compartment, though, could be made to the toughest standards. The driver remained the most vulnerable to attack, and stopping a car could be as effective as shooting through it, if you could then approach it with heavy weapons.

Reg could see that increasing the thickness of the plastic might increase the resistance to pressure blows, but that again would probably decrease visibility of the exterior. He wondered whether at least one of the plastic layers could be replaced by a shear-thickening liquid agent, sealed around the edges. On impact, it would absorb the force and turn solid. Would it return to its liquid form afterwards? That might be a technicality to be solved by experiment.

His thought experiment was interrupted by Sidra arriving and tapping on the study door.

“Ready for me, Reg?”

“Sure, Sidra. What are you working on today?”

“Hydraulics. What the dickens does it do? How does it work? The textbook makes it sound terribly complicated.”

“That is what textbooks try to do, Sidra: Make you think how important the book is, and how knowledgeable the author is.

Hydraulics actually works in a very simple way, Sidra. Assume you have a liquid in a tub, with a plunger fitting tightly on top and an open pipe through to another empty tub. when you push the plunger down, it transfers that push to the liquid, which then pushes through into the other tub. If there is no receiving tub, and the pipe is narrow, it shoots out at higher pressure, just like a water pistol. In essence, that’s what hydraulics is about: pushing a liquid around from one place to another, but the pressure that is pushing it changes when the pipe is narrower or wider. The narrower the hole it has to go through, the higher the pressure that results.

All the detail in hydraulics is an extension of that principle, usually involving calculations based on factors such as the density of the liquid, its surface area, its volume – the total supply available in the storage tank – the diameter of the pipe, the pressure being applied, and so on. That is a mathematical equation used to solve a hydraulics question. You need to know maths to work things out in many disciplines, but that’s all that you are doing.

Water flowing in a river or a canal is the same principle. The water is being pushed down by air pressure from above, and pulled by gravity, so the force is always downhill.

In a canal, if the canal is not perfectly level, the water will flow towards the lower end, under that downward air pressure and the force of gravity. The canal is the tub, and the lower end of the canal is the pipe the water is being pushed towards. That is why engineers are perfectionists about the contour of a canal. If a canal is running through the countryside, completely level all the way, it is called a contour canal, and the water doesn’t move at that stage. Add water at any point, and the extra height to the water imparts a push towards the end of the canal. Remove water at the end of the canal, and all rest of the water in the canal starts flowing towards the point of loss.

Exactly the same principle applies to gases, where it is known as pneumatics, but with one major difference: gases can be compressed into a smaller space; liquids can’t.”

“I get you. You make subjects seem easy, Reg.”

“They ARE easy, Sidra, as long as you don’t make things so complicated by trying to do too much at the one time. Most subjects can be more easily understood by dealing with them in smaller bits, then adding these amounts together later.”

Sidra went off with her science textbook, much happier with her studies. Reg went back to see how the beautician was doing, and found her packing up to go. Reg expressed surprise at her speed.

She told him, “It doesn’t take all that long with a digital camera, and all the rest was simple measurements of the ladies. When do you want them all to be ready? Saturday morning?”

“Yes. The wedding is at eleven, at the university. How long do your staff need to prepare the ladies?”

“I can’t say for certain, but I will bring my full team, so that there will be no delay. The ladies of your household seem a cooperative bunch, I have to say. They really appreciate what you are doing for them. Quite altruistic, I thought. They have a high regard for you, I noticed.”

Reg ignored the implied question. Instead, he changed the subject.

“Can I emphasize a point, Mrs Thyme? I don’t want my girls caked in make-up. Less is more, in my view. Do whatever you feel is right in the way of hair, clothes and jewellery, etc., but minimal cosmetics to achieve the look you want, if at all possible.”

“We are not miracle-workers, Mr Robertson, but we pride ourselves on our talents. I agree with you on the quantity of make-up. The artistry is how to put it on to achieve the desired effect. All my staff are fully trained to my exacting standards, and their work will be supervised by me. Our target is for the final effect to be displayed, but not the tools of the trade, which hopefully should be invisible to the casual viewer.

We can be here at eight a.m. to make a start on Saturday. There will be four of us in our team. We have a van we use for transporting the clothing and other choices to be made: you are merely hiring the dresses and the paste jewellery for the day, but should any client later wish to purchase, genuine originals can be obtained.”

“Good. Now that you have seen the task, Mrs Thyme, what do you expect the final bill to be?”

“Several thousand pounds all told, Mr Robertson. I hope you will manage to settle the account when you get it.”

“The money will not be an insurmountable obstacle, Mrs Thyme. Your bill will be paid in full, when presented.”

“Now that is a most helpful attitude. I can offer a five per cent discount if the bill is paid within the week.”

“I shall abide by your rules, dear lady, if you perform as well as I expect.”

He saw the lady out, and returned to the living room, where there was considerable chatter. The girls all stopped to look at him when he opened the door and entered.

“Well?” he asked, petulantly. “Am I good or bad for this surprise?”

“We did mull it over, and concluded that you want us to look our best on Saturday, so you passed the test of acceptability, Reg,” he was informed by Prudence. “Frances took a little persuasion, but she came around. I had to point out that she raised no objections while the beautician was here.”

Frances came in with, “I was always personally okay with the idea, Prudence. My concern was for the rest of you, so I was speaking as chief wife with my duty of care to the fore.”

Prudence accepted this explanation. “All right, then. You have a full complement of approval, dear man. We will probably not be recognised by our friends on Saturday, if they are around campus when we arrive. I got the impression this is a full makeover, Reg. Am I right?”

“You are. They have a range of clothing for hire to suit every client, and paste jewellery to match. Incidentally, if you take a fancy to any of the items; the clothes, and the genuine jewellery, are available to purchase if requested. I am easy with that, should your taste run to such pieces. Just nothing too expensive, please: my budget couldn’t stand that sort of demand!”

This produced general laughter, with only Sidra and Jessica being unsure of the joke. Holly leaned to Sidra and whispered, “Reg grew up in poverty, but now he has some cash to his name, and it embarrasses him. He switches between not spending and being overly generous.”

Sidra passed this on to her mother, who whispered back, “We do NOT ask for money, Sidra!”

Sidra was quick to note the common sense of this instruction, and replied, “I agree, ammi.”

A couple of days later, the beauty squad descended on the household for the initial preparations, and Reg did not know what to do with himself, as the visitors took over the house. He was told not to disappear, as he had to be ‘done’ as well, as soon as the ladies were ready. He had dressed in his new charcoal grey suit, which Frances had laid out for him to wear. Along with the suit, there was a new dress shirt that he had not seen before, and a new set of underwear as well. He was permitted to choose a dress tie from a range on the “Allure” clothing van, and selected a pre-tied silver silk cravat that was simple to affix at his neck. Mrs Thyme approved his selection and patted him on the shoulder. “That will do nicely, Mr Robertson. The idea is for you to look nice, but not outshine your ladies.”

She leaned closer to say quietly in his ear, “A little bird told me you are married to four of these girls; the ones who call themselves Robertson. Everyone seems happy, so I shall say nothing more, sir.”

Reg remonstrated, “There is nothing illegal involved, Mrs Thyme. We had a Commitment Ceremony, which is just as binding on us as a marriage. This is what the girls wanted, and I am devoted to them, for ever.”

She gazed at him in astonishment, but still warned him, “See that you never let them down, Mr Robertson. They deserve the best; but you are indeed trying to do your best. I can see that in their reactions. Whose wedding are you going to today?”