Lunching at Laura's Page 15

  Edward, who had been a little tense, watched them and allowed his shoulders to relax; there’d be no problem with it. Leo had, in his innocence, timed it exactly right.

  ‘There you are then,’ he said easily as the papers rustled and the teacups rattled. ‘Our first newsletter. Took a lot of sorting out, those recent sales of properties. Still, I managed to get the facts. Interesting, isn’t it, to know how much property’s appreciated in the past year? We all know of course that the area’s a goldmine – but it’s comforting to have an actual figure put on your neighbour’s place. It shows you what your own stake is worth, hmm? Wish I had more than that small rented room of mine, I can tell you. Not like you, Mrs. C. sitting on this lovely place. Lovely –’

  Mrs. Capitelli who had opened her mouth to protest at the newsletter, closed it again and went back to noisily chewing her biscuit as she looked at the place on the page which Edward leaned over to show her. Her brows lifted in surprise as she stared at the figures and then slowly she opened her full mouth in a gaping grin. Edward averted his gaze and looked at Olaffson. ‘You’d agree, Mr. Olaffson? Nice information?’

  ‘Very nice,’ Olaffson said and nodded vigorously. ‘Very nice indeed! A useful service this. I propose we accept the newsletter – good to have an update on this sort of thing as often as we can get it.’ He looked down at his copy and shook his head in happy disbelief. ‘Did you see what that chap Pritt got for that little place of his in Rupert Street? Half a pocket handkerchief, those rooms, I swear to you, and do you see what he got? My place is twice the size and got better access. A useful service this. I definitely propose. Basset here’ll second, eh Basset?’ And he nudged his neighbour who blinked and said, as he always did, ‘Hmm? Oh, yes, absolutely. Yes.’

  ‘Good, good,’ Leo said briskly. He hadn’t even looked at the newsletter, feeling obscurely that to do so would be infra dig in some way. After all, hadn’t Edward implied that the thing was his idea? In fact, wasn’t it? His memory was hazy on the point but the more he thought about it the more it seemed that it had been; in which case to look at the thing and to discuss it would be absurd. They’d all think he’d forgotten his own work. ‘Put it to the vote – those in favour? Hmm. And those against? Well, I’m sorry, Mrs. C – carried by a majority. My casting vote, you see. The newsletter becomes a regular part of our service to the members of the Trust and Edward Malplackett is the Editor. Any items for inclusion to be sent to him, yes Edward? Splendid, splendid! Right. Item five.’

  ‘Yes – item five,’ Mrs. Garcia said suddenly. ‘This one amazes me. Someone must have it wrong. Old Mucky with porn in his shop? This I find hard to believe.’

  ‘I’ve got chapter and verse here,’ Leo said and patted the pile of papers in front of him. ‘No doubt about it. Two separate complaints laid. And that means we have to do something about it. It’s in the Constitution – two or more complaints from the public and we lodge a formal complaint by the Trust to the Police and to the licensing authority – it’s all in the Constitution.’

  ‘My Constitution,’ Mrs. Capitelli said. ‘That was the Constitution I got in my first year and –’

  ‘Indeed you did, Mrs. C, indeed you did,’ Leo said quickly. ‘And very good too. So, it is agreed that under the terms of the Constitution of the Trust, para Seven, subsection (e) we take the usual steps to deal with the matter? No objections?’

  ‘I still think it’s peculiar,’ Mrs. Garcia said stubbornly. ‘I’ve known Mucky more years than I can remember. He hates those porn shops, always did. Signed my petition, you remember? When they wanted to open a strip show next door to me. I just don’t see that –’

  ‘I’ve seen it,’ Miss Foster said suddenly. She spoke so rarely that everyone immediately stopped the undercurrent of talk between themselves that was always part of Trust committee meetings and stared at her. Her nose went pink and she bobbed her head, embarrassed.

  ‘Seen what, Miss Foster?’ Leo asked.

  ‘Magazines. In the tobacconist in Little Vinegar Yard,’ she said, and bobbed her head again. ‘Went in for some snuff. For my sinuses, you know. Excellent for sinus trouble, snuff is, and Mucky’s the only place I can get the sort I need. Went in, saw the magazines. I was surprised –’

  ‘What did you do about it then?’ Mr. Olaffson said.

  ‘Do? Nothing. What could I do? I bought my snuff and went out. I didn’t look at the magazines. Not to say look, I mean. I didn’t pick them up or anything.’ The pinkness on her nose seemed to spread to her eyes as her anxiety increased. ‘I saw the covers, though. Dreadful covers. Really dreadful – so I bought my snuff and left –’ Her voice trailed away.

  ‘You didn’t think to report it to the Trust?’ Leo said sternly.

  ‘I just didn’t think about them at all,’ Miss Foster said wretchedly. ‘So nasty, you see. They always are, and they’re everywhere. It was never like that before, when I was a child and my mother ran our shop. We never had things like that, and I never will now. But everyone else does so I just hurried out and thought, I’ll get Mucky to bring my snuff to my shop next time, when he comes back.’

  ‘Comes back?’ Mrs. Garcia said.

  ‘Seems he’s on a long trip to France, his nephew told me,’ Leo said. ‘I went in to warn him I was going to have to take this matter up – phoned him and warned him and he didn’t seem at all concerned.’ It was his turn to go rather pink. ‘In fact he was quite unpleasant about it. So there you are. The Constitution rules we take action. The evidence is there, so we have no choice. Right, I’ll see to it – or rather Mr. Secretary will – Edward? Yes – All right. Item six – any other business. And I hope there isn’t too much, I must say. I have a lot to do at my shop this afternoon and I’ve been asked to lunch with the Chairman of the General Purposes Committee of the Council –’ He seemed to swell a little as he said it. ‘So I do request we keep AOB down. Well, Mrs. C? What is it?’

  ‘I thought it might be better to get off the patch,’ Davriosh said. ‘The way people see you and talk around Soho, it makes you sick. You don’t get ’em here. Too far over, you see. Nice place, hmm? Not fancy, but stylish. All the stars come here, you know. Not now, not lunchtime so much, but every night after their shows, they all come to Joe Allen’s. This table we’re at, it used to be Ingrid Bergman’s regular one. Imagine that, Ingrid Bergman!’

  Statler looked round at the checked tablecloths and the brick walls and the menu chalked on the blackboards and smiled thinly. ‘Very nice. Not the Connaught Grill, I agree, but I dare say very nice.’

  ‘Why should it matter people see us?’ Preston said, and smoothed his bald head with one hand. ‘We’re not doing anything we shouldn’t.’

  ‘I’ve got someone joining us,’ Davriosh said and winked at Statler who looked woodenly back at him and said nothing. ‘Sort of progress report, you know? It could cause problems if it got around we was talking. Him and us. It wouldn’t be a disaster, you understand, not for us, but it could cause problems. For the other fella.’

  ‘Who is he?’ Preston asked and leaned back as a very skinny young waiter arrived with his arms stacked with dishes. They were silent as he slapped plates of ham and eggs in front of Davriosh and Preston and a frugal salad before Statler and then as he went Preston said again, ‘Who is he? This fella you’re on about? Why isn’t he here now?’

  ‘He’ll get here, he’ll get here,’ Davriosh said, his mouth already full. Not for him the unnecessary mannerliness of waiting for the others to be served. ‘Let’s get our own business sorted out first. A progress report, that’s what I got for you, Mr. Statler. You’ll be pleased, I reckon.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Statler murmured and wiped his lips fastidiously and pushed aside his wooden bowl of salad almost untouched. Clearly he was regretting not being at the Connaught Grill.

  ‘The smaller property – the tobacconist’s shop and flat, that we got sorted out. The offer for the freehold is in, and by the end of next month, we’ll have it. No problem. The other pr
operty, though, that’s not going to be so easy.’

  With a sharp little movement he mopped the remainder of the egg from his plate with a piece of bread and leaned back in his chair, clearly disappointed that his plate was empty, and looking round for the waiter.

  ‘What’s the problem with it? Who holds the freehold?’

  ‘That’s the problem,’ Davriosh said and catching the waiter’s eye at last, beckoned. ‘It’s a family trust. There are a lot of people involved, a lot. All of ’em got different sized pieces, depending on who they got it from. I mean, it’s inherited, you see? They inherit their shares from their parents, you know the sort of thing. Still, it’s not impossible. We can sort it out. I’ve got my ways of sorting things. It’s what I’m for –’

  He grinned at Statler and said to the waiter, ‘Side order french fries,’ and took another piece of bread from the basket and buttered it lavishly. ‘And when I say I can arrange things, believe me I can arrange things. Leave it with me – Ah, here he is!’ He pushed back his chair noisily. ‘Come and sit down ol’ man. We didn’t wait. The ham and eggs are good – not a lot of it, but good. I’ll get the waiter, order for you –’

  The other men half rose in acknowledgement as the tall thin man in a grey suit slid into the fourth chair at the table. He was a neat figure with hair as grey as his clothes and he bent his head in a polite but unsmiling acknowledgement as Davriosh introduced them.

  ‘Secretary of the Vinegar Trust,’ Davriosh said importantly as Statler and Preston murmured their acknowledgements. ‘That’s the thing, you see. Ed’s the Secretary of the Trust. Been very helpful to me in many ways.’

  ‘And I hope will continue to be so,’ Statler said and for the first time smiled. ‘A drink, Mr. Malplackett.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Malplackett said. ‘Just Perrier, please. Healthier, you know. I need to watch my health.’ And he smiled at Statler. The two seemed to have taken a liking to each other on sight.

  ‘So, Ed?’ Davriosh said expansively. ‘How have things been going?’

  ‘Rather well!’ Edward murmured. ‘I’ve just come from a Trust meeting. The newsletter went down well. Thanks for your help with it. Seeing those prices concentrated their minds wonderfully. It could well work, this scheme of yours. Tell people the going rate you’d like it to be and it turns into it, doesn’t it? You’ll be pushing up the values nicely –’

  ‘And the other business?’ Davriosh said, glancing proudly at the other two men, like a mother showing off a precocious child. ‘Have you got that done the way we said? Tell ’em what you’ve done, Ed. Just tell ’em.’

  Edward glanced at Statler almost conspiratorially and smiled. ‘It’s agreed that the complaints be laid. I’ve already seen to it that the police have been told, and I rather think they took a look yesterday. Simmy Leach took the day off, arranged for someone to look after the place. He’s a bit anxious about his uncle finding out his connection with all this, you see. He stands to inherit a good deal, he reckons, when the old man dies. He used to have a right to the reversion of the place, it seems, under his grandfather’s will, but Mucky bought him out. Gave him a lot of cash, years ago, and had the holding rearranged to help the boy. But he’s got expensive tastes, has Simmy Leach, and went through the lot in under five years. So now he’s dependent on the old man’s goodwill. Expects him to leave the property to him – and he’s an old fella, after all. Can’t be long before he turns in his chips. And if Mucky discovers after he gets back from France what’s been going on he might leave the lot to a cats’ home, which would upset Mr. Leach a good deal. He fancies the idea of being a property owner. He’s bored with his council flat on the Isle of Dogs.’ He smiled briefly. ‘So keeping the old man sweet is important. He’s glad to take our money, but doesn’t want to lose the old man’s. It’s understandable.’

  ‘I hardly see how the old man can fail to find out,’ Statler said dryly. ‘Considering that he’ll come back to discover he has a new landlord –’

  ‘No he won’t,’ Davriosh said and produced a fat giggle. ‘Of course he won’t. That’s where I come in. I’ve arranged with the old letting agents, the people who’ve been collecting his rent for years, to sell me a piece of their business, including his piece. They owed me a favour, so – anyway, he’ll come back, he’ll find a letter from Joe Early to say he’s taking his retirement, sold the business to me, from now on to pay me the rent. I won’t tell the old boy he’s got a new landlord as well as a new agent, now, will I? The magazines’ll be out of the shop by then, so who’s to tell him there’s been any trouble? It’ll never come to court or anything, that’s for sure. The mere fact there’s trouble with the tenant’ll be enough to make L and DC part with the freehold. The tales I’ll tell ’em and that Edward here’ll tell ’em about the trouble that’s brewing with the Trust, they’ll be glad to part. At our price. I tell you, this one’s okay. You’ll be laughing, believe you me.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to that,’ Statler said dryly. ‘When you show me the documentation will be soon enough for hilarity. Now, about the other property – the family trust. I’d like a little more information on that. On how you’re planning to – what was it you said? Sort things out.’

  Davriosh winked and leaned back in his chair. He’d eaten all the bread in the basket and for the first time seemed reasonably content with the state of his stomach.

  ‘Now, that’s not so easy to explain. It’s been my pleasure to introduce you to my friend Edward here. I’ve no fear about showing my hand, including the honours cards, to you. And Edward, believe me, is one of the honours. A real ace, and I’m glad to have him. I’ve told him, stick with us, we can do you a lot of good, so that you can do us a lot of good. We can be very good for each other –’

  ‘The other property, Davriosh,’ Statler said. His voice was the same; quiet, a little flat in tone, colourless, but there was a warning in it that Davriosh heard very clearly and he sat up and smiled at the smaller man a shade too widely.

  ‘The other property. Yes, well, I have another card to play. A trump card, believe me. But it’s got to be played very close to the chest, you understand. If it ever gets out this man’s got an involvement in what we’re trying to do the whole thing is off. He’ll tip his hand to the rest of them, and they’ll know they’re sitting on a gold mine. They won’t sell – or if they do, they’ll want twice the rate you’re going to get it for if we leave him to do what he has to do in his own way. I promise you, once he’s got control, he’ll see to it we get the freehold for a quarter million, maybe, at worst no more than three hundred grand. But if we drop him in it, let our mouths make overtime, then no way. He tells ’em what’s on and they won’t settle for a penny less than the half. It’s a difference of two hundred grand, maybe. Isn’t it worth keeping shtoom for the possibility of saving yourself two hundred grand?’

  ‘If I can be assured I’ll get it at the price, then, yes, it is,’ Statler said. ‘But I want it anyway. If I have to go to the higher rate, then I have to –’

  ‘Jesus, but the pickings on this must be good!’ Preston said and Statler flicked a glance at him and then looked away, bored.

  ‘– if there is no other way to get it,’ he said as though there had been no interruption. ‘Obviously I’m a businessman and if I can shave my costs I like to do it.’

  Preston, not in the least put out by Statler’s obvious dismissal of his opinions, shook his head in admiration. ‘Such shavings I’d like to find in my bathroom every morning! He’d like to shave two hundred grand off the price of the property, but if he can’t he’ll still buy – it’s a pleasure to listen to such talk.’

  ‘I need to know,’ Statler said, this time not even bothering to look at Preston, ‘whether I can be assured of getting the property this way. I appreciate the effort you’re putting into making all your little arrangements, and I can quite see that from your point of view they must be profitable –’

  ‘Now, listen Mr. Statler, I’m dealing straigh
t with you!’ Davriosh protested. ‘I’m not doing any till dipping, believe me! The price my man wants for this property is the price I’ll ask you. There’ll be nothing in it for me! Apart from my share of the deal I made with you – a third, remember. I’m in for a third with you –’

  ‘I remember. I also remember that all men are greedy, and want more if they can get it. And I have no doubt that you will get some – shall we say commission? – from this arrangement you’re so busy about. I have no objection to that – unless it loses me the property, you understand? I want it, and I have to have it by the end of the year, so that I can get my planning applications settled. After the end of the year, my own special arrangements with the planning committee become less advantageous –’

  ‘Retirements?’ Preston said owlishly and getting no reply, nor expecting one, nodded. ‘That’ll be it. Chairman of the committee retiring. No elections due so it’s got to be that. Damn nuisance the way these people retire. You sort ’em out, get ’em nicely settled to your ways and they go and retire. Same with the licensing people, you know. And the police. Bloody police.’ He sat and stared broodingly into his glass. He’d filled and emptied it more often than any of them, and now he refilled it yet again, and Davriosh looked at him uneasily, but Statler still ignored him.

  ‘So you see,’ Statler went on in his dull flat voice, ‘it’s important that we get this matter sorted out as soon as possible. Safely. So keep me informed.’ He looked at his watch and pushed back his chair. ‘Thank you for lunch, gentlemen. We must come here again. I like it. Good salads.’ And he went, weaving his way past the red checked tables and the gossiping lawyers and journalists around them, leaving the three men staring after him.

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Joe,’ Preston said after a moment. ‘Lose that property, and there’ll be all hell let loose, you understand that? Are you sure this bloke, whoever he is, can deliver?’