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Morrison thought about the question, and Gardener could tell from his expression there were things that didn’t add up.
“It’s always possible, but I doubt it. Our Barry was a man of routine. Money was the love of his life, though God knows how he ever managed to find the time to spend it.”
“You ran the company with him,” said Gardener. “You must know what his salary was.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because we searched his flat, and he had some very expensive equipment in there, including a waterbed.”
“A what? A waterbed? What the hell would he want with one of them?”
“Apart from the obvious,” said Reilly. “I gather they’re very good for enhancing other aspects of your life.”
“By other things I take it you mean women. You’re barking up the wrong tree, mate. If our Barry had a waterbed, it was because he had a damn good night’s sleep in it. I’ve never seen him with a woman… or a man, in case that’s what you’re thinking.”
“There was also a big state-of-the-art TV, hi-fi equipment, and a number of other receipts for expensive items, all paid for in cash.”
“Like I said, he didn’t really have any money worries. He was a partner in the business and drawing a good wage, and I suspect that flat didn’t cost him much, so maybe he saved his money and spent it wisely.”
“The butcher said he paid the rent every week on the nail, also in cash.”
“Maybe he did. He was never a big lover of the banks, our Barry.”
“I don’t like to ask the question, Mr Morrison, but do you check the business account regularly? Is it possible that large sums of money have gone missing that you can’t account for?”
“I never check them, but all it takes is one phone call. We have a man in Leeds who looks after the accounts for us. His name’s Frank Fisher.”
“And no doubt he would have told you if something was amiss. I appreciate you’ll have a lot to do, but can you call him and let us know the outcome?”
“You still haven’t said what happened to him, yet.”
Gardener noticed that Billy Morrison was becoming agitated, and he knew that he was going to have to tell him the truth, but he wanted to continue building a picture.
Reilly stepped in again. “Did he ever mention the name Nicola Stapleton?”
Billy turned to face Reilly. “Who?”
“Nicola Stapleton,” repeated the Irishman.
“Never heard of her.”
“What about a house in Hume Crescent, Batley?”
“What are you two not telling me?”
“You didn’t know a woman called Nicola Stapleton who lived in a house in Hume Crescent in Batley?”
“I’ve just told you. Why the hell would I?”
“Your brother owned the house.”
Billy Morrison stared hard at Reilly. “Owned? Our Barry never owned no house in Batley. Are you trying to tell me he was shacked up with some bird on the quiet, and he never told me?”
“We don’t know,” said Gardener. “That’s why we’re asking.”
Billy Morrison immediately checked his computer. Gardener suspected the cab company had regulars, and that he was searching for addresses.
“She’s not on the system. Who is this woman?”
