CHAPTER 51
Soon after Ritchie had left, Colin Asher looked out of the only window in the Asher & Asher office, saw it was still raining and grabbed his umbrella
“I’m going out for an hour or so,” he told Ching. “Else is due in shortly but meanwhile, you’re in charge. Hold the fort.”
Colin’s destination was a block of luxury apartments overlooking the Thames at Greenwich, so he took a cab from Edgware Road. The brand-new silver BMW 5 series that hadn’t been there three days ago was back, so he went up to the glass-fronted entrance, pressed the button for apartment 3 and waited.
“Hello,” said the woman’s voice.
“Miss Johnson?”
“Yes.”
“My name’s Colin Asher. I’m a private international fraud investigator representing your sister, Isobel.” He held up a business card to the video doorbell and waited. “Do you have a few minutes to talk in private?”
“I see. Is it about Isobel?”
“It’s about Vital Cosmetics which you have a minority share in.”
“Is something wrong?”
“If there was nothing wrong, I wouldn’t be here, Miss Johnson, but it would be much better to discuss it face to face.”
“I see. Yes, well. OK. You’d better come up.”
There was a click from the door and Colin walked into a glitteringly white and spacious hallway with potted plants and a tall palm tree that rose to the skylight. He took the lift to the first floor, rang the bell to number 3 and was invited into a spacious sitting room with white furniture, a glass panelled balcony and a panoramic view of the river.
Kathrine Johnson was a slim, attractive, forty-something woman with short blonde hair who, although he had still not met Isobel in person, looked nothing like the pictures he’d seen of her sister. She wore tight, black jeans and a white shirt and padded around in soft slip-ons that made no sound on the shiny woodblock floor. He was invited to sit in a soft white leather sofa. Kathrine sat opposite him across a glass topped coffee table holding a vase of fresh, delicately perfumed freesias. It was nice but Colin Asher never really dressed for places like this. He’d left the dripping umbrella in a stand by the lift but his shoes, his hair and the bottoms of his trousers felt uncomfortably wet.
“So,” she said taking his card, reading it carefully and placing it on the coffee table. “What’s this all about?”
“It might take a while,” Colin said.
She waved the concern away with a hand that flashed blue, sparkly nail varnish. “You’re lucky. I flew back from Florida last night so I’ve given myself the day off. Tea? Coffee?”
Colin declined. “It’s about your husband, Peter,” he said.
Kathrine stood up. “Oh, Christ,” she said with her arms folded across her chest. “What now?”
“I understand you’re separated “
“Yes.”
“How long ago?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It happened. Gradually. Over the years. Long time. Why?”
“Vital Cosmetics was formed from a company you bought that was originally called Vitality Hand Creams. Correct?”
Kathrine nodded. “Peter’s great idea, not mine.”
Colin hadn’t known that but it was interesting and it fitted.
“Peter now owns thirty three percent of Vital Cosmetics, Nick Carstairs has twenty percent, Boris Hamilton has ten percent and Isobel has thirty percent since you sold her a bunch of your shares. What’s left are some small shareholders including yourself.”
“Absolutely correct. Well done.”
“Did you know that Vital Cosmetics has always imported raw materials and other supplies through a company calling itself Easy Trading?”
“I’ve heard the name but you must realise I’ve never been interested in the business. We bought it with money made by KRJ Capital. Why do you ask?”
“Easy Trading is the trade name of a company registered as Vital Trading Ltd. It’s based in Wallingford near Oxford. Did you know that?”
She sat down, unfolded her arms, frowned and started to concentrate. “No. That’s news.”
“And the directors of Vital Trading are your husband Peter, Nick Carstairs, Boris Hamilton and Donald McVie, the Vital Cosmetics QA manager. “
“Oh my God. I had no idea.”
“Yes,” Colin said. “That’s exactly what Isobel said when my partner, Mark Dobson, told her She didn’t know either. Peter uses a different address, you see. A Wallingford, Oxfordshire address.”
“Yes. I know he bought a house there but it’s none of my business. I’ve never seen it. So, what does it all mean?”
“It means that Vital Trading imports inferior quality, possibly contaminated raw materials but charges Vital Cosmetics for top quality. It’s probably laundering money and probably being used to import narcotics and counterfeit products.”
Kathrine’s face and even her lips turned pale. Colin waited for it to sink in.
“Oh my God. You’ve got proof?” she asked nervously.
“We’ve got strong evidence but I wouldn’t be here if I thought the evidence was insufficient to start involving the police.”
Kathrine took a deep breath.
“I’ve never really been interested in Vital Cosmetics, you see. It was Peter’s damned idea, but it was one way of getting him out of KRJ Capital. He is – no, let me be frank – I don’t trust him, you see. His ideas and mine don’t fit. We’re incompatible. I’ve got standards, he hasn’t. I’m careful, he cuts corners. I care, he doesn’t. Rows, arguments, fights, I told him to move out so there were no more rows and lawyers could deal with it.
“Since then it’s been a nightmare of claims and counterclaims. It’s a messy scene. Divorce is pending subject to ironing out a pile of issues that started with me transferring most of my shares to Izzie. Conditions were that Izzie – I’ve always called her Izzie - chaired the company, which of course caused the biggest, worst argument ever. You can’t imagine how hard that was but I fought it because it seemed to me the company was losing its way, mixed up as it was with all the other private crap.”
“Isobel is trying to sort it out,” Colin said as kindly as he could.
“That’s good. I’m pleased. Is she OK?” Kathrine looked concerned for her sister for the first time.
“She’s fine. She’s currently in Bangkok with my partner and a few others trying to find out what’s been going on.”
“Bangkok? Good Lord. I see. Is that why your company is involved? Is it truly international this…this matter?”
“It’s a long story, Miss Johnson. Would you like me to cut to the chase with a brief summary? Then you can ask me questions.”
“Oh, please. Go ahead.”
Colin’s brief summary took five minutes. He started with the phone call from Eddie Higgins and brushed over the Italian, Russian, Chinese and Malaysian involvement as Kathrine’s eyes grew wider and she held a hand to her mouth. He then said, “Can we talk about KRJ Capital just for a moment?”
Kathrine nodded and sat forward clearly wondering what was coming next.
“KRJ has three other directors – Peter, Michael Jefferson and Maria Benelli. Correct?”
“Peter resigned recently as part of the divorce agreement.”
“Good. What about Maria Benelli?”
Kathrine looked nervous. She squeezed her pink lips with her blue tipped fingers. “Mm,” she said. “Another problem. We don’t get on so well.”
“I see,” Colin said realising his own domestic affairs were a trifle of simplicity compared to all this. “Then let me tell you that Maria Benelli is also involved with Peter and the Russians and…” he didn’t finish.
“Oh my God.” This time she flushed, got up, walked around again and returned. “Are you sure?”
Colin nodded. “Absolutely. We’ve got a recording of Peter talking about her. We think Peter and she have had some sort of personal relationship.”
Kathrine sat down, breathing heavily in exasperation. “It was Peter who suggested her for director. She has property in Italy some of which she’s bought and rents out through KRJ. We don’t often meet up.”
Colin nodded again. “That’s right. Expensive property in Trieste, Milan, Naples, Amalfi and Rhodes. Not much of it goes through KRJ.”
Kathrine sniffed and Colin detected something that suggested she already harboured suspicions about Maria Benelli’s other business dealings. It wasn’t worth asking right now so he went on, adding more fuel to the fire.
“And she’s a co-director with Peter of a company called Parklands Capital which we’re still trying to unravel. We believe she’s involved in the Russian led counterfeiting, money-laundering and narcotics trafficking racket in Trieste and an offshore company with links to a Russian called Maxim Novak.”
He didn’t mention a possible link with the attempted murder of Pascale Perillo’s father but could have done. Enough was enough for now. Kathrine seemed too shocked to take much more.
He gave her a few seconds then said, “Is Peter sick? Stressed? Depressed?”
“Very likely,” Kathrine said. “He gets emotional and can get very angry. Violent even. He almost loses it at times. I’ve had to be very careful. Why do you ask?”
“He’s on medication.”
“No surprise. But you know a lot, huh?”
“It’s surveillance, Kathrine. You’d be surprised what we can find out.”
“Christ. Should I be worried?”
“Not as worried as Peter. And when I say he’s on medication it’s probably not the sort of thing a doctor would prescribe for depression.”
“Again, huh?”
“He’s got history of drug taking?”
“Sure. Coke mostly. It never did him any good, of course.”
Colin looked at her wondering if drugs might also have formed part of Kathrine’s past.
“Why are you telling me all this?” she asked.
“Isobel appointed us to investigate her concerns. My partner, Mark Dobson, and I agree that you and Isobel need to share some of the fallout. If there’s anything else you know that might be relevant, then tell me now. This is serious, Kathrine. I’m talking police investigations, international arrests, media interest and publicity. Isobel was especially concerned about that. It’ll need managing. So far, the UK police are unaware but they soon will be. Our private investigation is ongoing.”
He checked his watch. “And one of our investigators, working undercover, is with one of the Russians, a guy called Maxim Novak, right now.”
As Kathrine watched in silence, Colin took out a mobile phone, touched, scrolled and looked at it. “Here we are,” he said. “From the tracking device he’s carrying he’s at an address in Wallingford, Oxfordshire. What’s the address of Peter’s property?”
“The Wharf. It’s by the river.”
“That’s it. I must go, but I’ll be in touch. Meanwhile, you know where to find me.”
Within half an hour Colin was back at the office.