Page 34 of The Murder of Thomas Cardwell
Josh offered, “Like a finder’s fee, but an ongoing one, which as you might imagine, is rather useful to us.” He glanced at his friends. “None of us are exactly rolling in funds.”
Whatever Barnaby, let alone Penelope, Jordan, and Ruth, had imagined, it wasn’t that.
Similarly puzzled, Stokes recommended, “Start at the beginning. Where did you meet this gent, and what’s his name?”
Gibson sat forward, his hands between his knees. “We were at one of the pubs we sometimes stop at when we’ve gone for a drive out of town.”
Josh nodded. “The Fox Orsett, north of Tilbury.”
Harrison explained, “We were all at King Edward’s Grammar in Chelmsford—that was where we met—and sometimes, we drive out that way for the day. Our old turf, you might say.”
“We stop at the Fox Orsett on the way back for a bite,” Gibson concluded.
“We often stay for dinner and a few pints,” Josh elaborated, “before driving back to town.”
Gibson glanced at Harrison, somewhat expectantly.
Harrison caught the look, shrugged, and said, “One evening about two months back, we were sitting at our usual table and chatting over our pints when this gent—Cornelius Chesterton is his name—was going around asking if anyone knew of a warehouse available in the locality, somewhere in easy reach of Tilbury Dock.” Harrison focused on Stokes. “As it happened, I knew of one. M’father’s into buying up land on the outskirts of towns and waiting for builders to come calling. He’s been doing it for years, quite successfully. I knew he’d bought this big old warehouse out on Brennan Road, just along from Fort Road, which runs straight to the docks, and I knew he’d left it empty. He said he couldn’t be bothered renting it out—said it wasn’t worth his time organizing that. So there seemed no reason Chesterton couldn’t use the space and pay me, ratherthan Papa.” Harrison glanced at the others on the sofa. “All in the family, as it were.”
Barnaby inclined his head. “Quite enterprising of you.”
Harrison flashed a grin. “We thought so.” He glanced at Josh and Gibson.
Josh cleared his throat and earnestly explained, “Chesterton pays Harrison for using the warehouse, and he pays all three of us an extra stipend, a regular payment every fortnight, because he doesn’t want us telling anyone that he’s getting the warehouse on the cheap.”
The three friends looked at the investigators as if what they’d just said was in no way remarkable.
Jordan broke the momentary silence. “What’s Chesterton’s business?”
When all three blinked owlishly, Stokes asked, “What is he using the warehouse to store?”
Harrison turned to Gibson and Josh, but from their expressions, neither had any idea. Harrison returned his gaze to the investigators and admitted, “We didn’t think to ask, not at first, and then later, we felt…well, we got the impression, at least, that Chesterton thought it best we didn’t know.”
“I bet he did,” Jordan muttered.
Josh blinked, then offered, “Corny—that’s what he told us to call him—once, early on, mentioned that he dealt in machinery, and it was all hush-hush because he feared his competitors might come looking and learn of his new designs.”
Harrison looked a mite sheepish. “It was a bit of a lark to us, but it didn’t seem all that risky. It wasn’t as if we had to do anything for Corny.”
“And,” Gibson added, “the arrangement gave us funds we didn’t otherwise have, and Corny using an empty warehouse didn’t hurt anyone, it seemed.”
“Well,” Harrison temporized, “perhaps Papa not getting a cut, but he doesn’t care one jot about that warehouse, so it seemed perfectly all right that I got some benefit from it.”
Barnaby glanced at Penelope and could tell that she was thinking the same as he—that these three were babes in the woods with very poor survival instincts.
Stokes, who was also regarding the three with faint disbelief, asked, “Did you ever tell anyone about Chesterton and the warehouse?”
All three shook their heads decisively.
“We took Chesterton’s money to keep silent,” Harrison said. “So we did.”
Josh was nodding. “We keep our promises.”
Clearly unable to keep silent any longer, Jordan asked, “Didn’t it occur to you that Chesterton’s payments were, in effect, bribes to ensure your silence?”
From the look on the three friends’ faces, that possibility hadn’t entered their brains until that moment.
That said, judging by their subsequent expressions, it seemed that the trio were finally starting to connect the dots.
