ReginaldChapter 19
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The manager grabbed the papers and looked at all the markings Freda had made. His face expressed amazement, and a touch of anger when he admitted, “Such a case is unheard of, Mrs Robertson. Only the fact that there was a considerable gap between each payment prevented us noticing this fact and bringing it to the notice of the university. I note that the account belongs to a different banking group, so we would not expect to have any concern over it. The finance would be with them, so I cannot advise you on any other transactions pertaining to that account. I can, though, speak to my colleague there and ask for a similar openness with you, as there is indeed a suspicion of fraud. We do not like fraud, Mrs Robertson, no matter what the bank; it impinges on the stability of the whole banking system. Damage to one client implies the possibility to all clients, and they do not like that idea, that their account may not be secure. Your investigation will have our full support.”
“That would be helpful, sir. Where is this other bank you mentioned?”
“Right across the road, my dear. Most of the local banks are in the town centre. I shall give you a letter of introduction to Mr French, the branch manager, to expedite matters.”
Freda looked over to her police escort. “Are you available to go to the other bank as well?”
“I am. I was instructed to accompany you while you attended to the bank visit, and it appears to have been extended somewhat, but still within my instructions and jurisdiction, ma’am. I am recording the events in case it comes before a court. I want to make sure I have everything covered.”
It did not take them long, once they had the letter prepared, to transfer their search to the other bank. There, Freda presented the letter of introduction and her company’s authorisation from the University to view the university banking details.
Once shown to the office of Mr French, Freda explained that they were pursuing banking details relating to the Development Fund, and that their enquiries had led to an account with this bank.
Mr French was affable, but just as stuffy as his colleague over the road. “Quite so, quite so. We can’t have any fraudulent use of bank accounts. Jimmy told me over the phone which account was doubtful, and I have asked for that account’s transaction log to be printed out and brought to me. We can expect it momentarily.”
Sure enough, an assistant hurried through with the printout, looking harassed. Mr French glowered at the long face of the assistant, and vented his displeasure.
“Enough of the dismal faces, Shawn. Your duties are not that much of a trial.”
The lad stammered, “It is not me, sir. It is this statement.”
“The statement? What can have got you so upset, boy?”
The lad wordlessly handed over the statement and left the room, visibly shaken.
French quickly skimmed through the transactions... “Hmm ... money in, money out, so what has got him bothered?” His eyes drifted to the customer name, and he paled. “Oh, my God!”
Freda and the young policeman were intrigued at this reaction.
“Sir? Mr French?” ventured Freda.
He returned his gaze to her, and came out with, “This account, Mrs Robertson. It is in the name of Julius Devereaux!”
The other two had no idea what he was talking about, and their faces showed that, so Mr French enlightened them.
“Julius Devereaux is the Chief Accountant at the university!” he blurted out.
“The Chief Accountant?” Freda repeated in her astonishment. “Why would he want to steal from the university?”
“Exactly.” agreed the manager. “I have always seen Mr Devereaux as very upright gentleman. I know of no financial irregularities associated with him, EVER!”
Freda was thinking furiously, and now put forward a suggestion.
Mr French, your man Shawn; does he have any financial worries?”
He glowered. “What has that numbskull Shawn got to do with anything?”
“Bear with me, sir. Does he have any problems with finance?”
“Of course not. He has built up a good reputation in the branch. Outside, he is reputed to be a bit of a gambler, but so are many of our clients, so that means nothing.”
Freda was thinking fast, and made another guess.
“Might it be that Mr Devereaux’s account, at least this account in his name, is always handled by Shawn?”
“I have no idea, Mrs Robertson. What are you getting at?”
“I just wondered whether someone from the university does Mr Devereaux’s banking for him?”
“That often happens, young lady. If he is too busy, a businessman will often send a junior member of staff to attend to routine banking arrangements.”
“So it might be that you never see Mr Devereaux in the bank concerning this account?”
“Don’t tell me you are suggesting that someone else was operating this account in Mr Devereaux’s name? But he would have to sign for at least some of the transactions!”
“And who would witness this signature, sir? - assuming Shawn was the teller.”
“Why, Shawn would be able to confirm the signature, having seen it many times.”
“Humour me a little, sir. Would you be able to produce examples of Devereaux’s signature from another reliable account, and Devereaux’s signature for this account?”
French was seeing where this was going, and called for his branch accountant to come see him. The man tall thin appeared, and stated, “There was something you wanted, George?”
French beckoned him closer.
“We have a bit of a worry here, Tom, and you might be able to clarify it for me, but VERY quietly: do not let anyone else see what you are doing. I want examples of Julius Devereaux’s signature from another account, and also from this one, so that we can compare them.”
“I see. Oh dear, I am beginning to have a bad feeling about this, George. I’ll get right to it.”
He turned and hurriedly exited the manager’s office, leaving the others pensive. The young policeman was rapidly noting down all he had heard, anticipating a crime to be revealed shortly.
It took less than five minutes before the branch accountant was back. He entered and carefully closed the door behind him before laying two bank slips on French’s desk.
“They don’t match, George,” he said quietly to his boss.
“Thanks, Tom. It is what we were afraid of. Someone else is using this account in Julius Devereaux’s name. Is the discrepancy consistent?”
“It is, George. Right from the time this account was opened five years ago. The teller’s initials are always the same. Shawn dealt with this customer who was supposed to be Julius Devereaux. ONLY Shawn dealt with him, so we can’t say what he looked like if Shawn won’t tell us who he is. Shawn HAD to know this was a scam; how else would it always be him who dealt with this one client? The usual practice is whoever is on duty, and that is random among our staff.”
Mr French told him, “We have a policeman with us just now, Tom. Would it be convenient to confront Shawn with the matter at this time, or later?”
“Let’s get it over with, before he twigs we are on to him.”
“That suit you, constable? Mrs Robertson?”
They both agreed it was fine with them, so Tom went to fetch Shawn, and a couple of minutes later brought him in. The accountant explained the delay. “He was with a customer, Mr French.”
“Thank you, Tom. Shawn, do you know why we have called you to my office?”
He replied, hesitant, “Something to do with Mr Devereaux’s account?” he ventured.
French responded, “Exactly so, but WHICH Mr Devereaux are we talking about, Shawn? The real one, or the you have been catering to for five years?”
The lad’s face went white as the blood drained from his face. Looking frightened, he stammered out, desperately,”You mean there are two Mr Devereaux?”
French was not taken in.
“Shawn, you have made a point of ALWAYS being the teller for this account, so you must have had a strong reason for doing so. It is contrary to the ethos of this bank, and an unhealthy link between you and the person operating this account in Mr Devereaux’s name.
Now, you will either name the person who you dealt with on this account, or give us an accurate description of him, such that he can be identified. I don’t need to point out that what you say is being recorded by a policeman and may form part of any criminal proceedings against you.”
The probationary constable intruded now, to ask the manager a question.
“Sir, does this bank operate a CCTV system, and does it keep such records for a long period of time? If you have a recording of the last transaction in this account which took place at the counter, the client should be identifiable.”
French was stopped in his tracks, and his face lit up in triumph.
“We do, constable, and the digital recordings are held for us online with a security firm. Tom, can you check the last transaction for this account and access the recording attached to that occasion?”
Shawn’s shoulders slumped, and he gave in the moment the accountant left on that errand.
“His name is Clement Dryborough,” he confessed. “He works in Mr Devereaux’s office at the university, and does much of the routine banking for the university. He paid off my bill at the betting shop, in return for accepting his Devereaux signature. He told me when he wanted to operate the account, and I arranged to be there for him.”
The constable asked, “What is your full name, sir?”
Being told it, he declared, “Shawn Galbraith Morris, you are under arrest on suspicion of assisting in the commitment of a crime, i.e. fraud or embezzlement. You will be taken to a police station and there be charged with the offence and questioned. You do not have to answer questions but if you fail to mention something which you may later rely on in court, this will harm your defence. Do you understand?”
Shawn admitted, “I do.”
The constable produced his handcuffs and cuffed the man. He was pleased to do this, for it was the first time he had actually arrested and handcuffed a suspect. He peered round at everyone to confirm that they had noticed his actions. Freda gave him an encouraging smile, and he got a nod from the manager. He preened at this recognition.
The constable activated his radio communication unit and called the police station, saying “I have a suspect under arrest and cuffed. Can I have a car to take him into custody, please?”
He cursed himself inwardly for saying ‘please’ like a youngster, but politeness never does any harm, he thought. He suddenly remembered about the bank account, and spoke to the manager.
“Mr French, can you freeze the account until our experts get here to confirm the evidence?”
Getting that assurance, he led Shawn out to the door of the bank to await a police car. He made sure to keep the suspect inside the door, and kept a tight grip of him in case he might do a runner, despite the handcuffs. He didn’t want his first ‘collar’ to escape.
Freda wanted to clarify what sums were in the account, before doing anything else.
“May I see the closing balance, Mr French?”
She noted that some sums had been removed, but most of the payments into it had remained in the account, earning interest over the last five years. The culprit obviously wanted to keep money movement to the minimum, to avoid alerting bank regulators. It was probably intended as a secret nest egg, hidden from the tax man.
She told the branch manager, “Mr French, this money must belong to the university, so once its function as evidence is complete, can you ensure that it is returned to the Fund that it was illegally transferred from, so that it is back where it belongs? There is a lot of money involved, I see. On another matter, can you establish where the portion that has been withdrawn went to, as further criminal evidence for the police case?”
“I can do that, Mrs Robertson, though recovering such withdrawals may not be easy.”
“Speaking as a law student, Mr French, I can tell you that the culprit’s lawyer will advise restitution to avoid an even longer sentence by the court.”
French declared, “Excellent, excellent. You should do well in your degree course, Mrs Robertson.”
“I intend to do just that, sir. My father has promised me a place in his law firm if I do well in my course.”
Freda heard a car draw up outside, and went to the window to see Shawn being put into the police car for transport to the police station. She reckoned she had done her bit here, and went back to say goodbye to Mr. French. She asked to keep the printout of the account’s transactions, and was presented with it in a stiff folder with the bank’s logo on the front. He clearly wanted her to remember how helpful the bank had been.
She took a taxi back to the university, and caught her next lecture. The previous one she would speak to the lecturer about, to get a copy of his notes for herself and Reg to go over. Reg would read almost anything that he could get his head around, and this occasionally meant he had an inspiration that assisted her own understanding. During the lecture she texted Reg to apprise him of the main results of her bank visits. She would give him the full details this evening.
Frances had indeed visited the Finance officer and found he was not as ready as she expected. He said to call back just before lunch; he would postpone his own lunch till after that.
Once they met, he explained the problem. There were considerable purchases that had vanished, but it was unclear who had purloined them. He was proposing to interview all the Chemistry building staff, establishing when the purchases had last been seen and who was in a position to remove them. Frances agreed his strategy was sound, and offered the R.E.G. company’s help if required. She also offered an insight, telling him that the missing student had obtained a building key from a member of staff, so that the same member of staff would be worth examining in detail, on the possibility of the key being obtained through blackmail associated with the missing supplies. The police had the details, she said.
He thanked her for that advice, and promised to look into it.
She didn’t have time to look through the Chemistry Department’s accounts, so stuffed them into her bag for later.
Hurrying to her lecture room, she almost bumped into two men, and realised with a start that they were twins. She wondered if Freda had got a chance to speak to the male twins, if these were they. She shelved that for later.
The afternoon rattled past, and soon Frances was at her car, waiting for the other girls. When they joined her, she asked Freda if she had spoken to the male twins in her course. She started: “Oh, damn; forgot about that.”
Frances shrugged, and told her, “No rush. Tomorrow will do. Invite them to dinner with us some evening.”
“Will do. Do I tell them about Carol and Holly?”
“You do not! I want them to discover our twins when they serve the meal. We don’t want the boys to think we are forcing them on Carol and Holly, and we want our twins to discover the lads at the same time, without advance warning. It should be fun to watch.”
“Ah, yes. I get it. No mention at all, just a friendly get-together as law students socialising?”
“That’ll do nicely, Freda.”
Freda managed to put off until they got home any enquiry about the bank. “I want to hear what Reg thinks about my findings, so leave it for now, girls.”
Even after arriving home, she refused to approach Reg until after dinner. As the table was being cleared, Reg caught her gaze and raised an eyebrow in query. She nodded and move round to sit beside him. Other eyes watched, and the dining room quietened as inquisitive ears strove to hear what was being said.
“Well, Freda? Anything more on your bank visit?”
“Visits to TWO banks, reg. The account receiving the payments was in another banking group, but fortunately the branch was just across the road, and both managers were friends. Thank goodness the national programme of branch closures hasn’t hit here yet.”
“Yes, yes, love. Please get to the point!”
“Sorry, Reg. Me and the policeman supplied by the local force went in and got to see the branch manager in his office. He was very helpful, anxious that the bank not be tarred by association with any criminal activity. He gave me a printout of the university’s Development Fund account, and I was able to spot that all the payments, to a variety of companies, all went to the same account, strongly suggesting a fraudulent transaction. The manager agreed, and told me where the account was held. He was happy to say it was in another banking group entirely, but the sort code indicated the bank across the road. He gave me a letter of introduction to the manager (whom he knew well), so that there would be no delays in getting to the facts.
The policeman and I went there and were quickly escorted to the manager’s office. He summoned his Accountant, and asked for a printout of the suspect account’s transactions. It was soon brought in by a lad in his mid-twenties, and I thought he looked shifty when he handed the printout to the manager.
To the manager’s surprise, the account was in the name of the University’s Chief Accountant!”
Reg frowned at this revelation. Such a simple solution seemed too good to be true. It was.
Freda told him, “To establish whether it was indeed the Chief Accountant, I asked if the bank had examples of bank slips signed by the account holder; and if they did, were there other accounts held by Julius Devereaux, the Chief Accountant?
There were, and the accountant was soon back with slips pertaining to both, and they did not match! One of the accounts was spurious, and remembering the look on the lad’s face, I asked who was the teller who dealt with each transaction: was it the same person each time, and was that normal?”
Reg gave out a satisfied, “Ahh!” and waited for the dénouement.
Freda revealed, “We discovered that every single transaction relating to that account was with the same teller – the young man I mentioned. The genuine Devereaux’s account was dealt with by a random choice of teller, with no consistency.
The lad was called in by the manager and asked to name the user of that account, or give his description. He refused to admit knowing, but the constable asked if the bank routinely used CCTV to record clients at the counter.
They do, and they kept the recordings for a long while, enough to find a shot of the person operating the account. The manager was expecting that it was not Devereaux, and so was the lad himself! The lad confessed as to who it was before the CCTV evidence was even sought, for he knew what it would show. The culprit had paid off the lad’s gambling debt in return for not querying the signature used.
It ended with the lad being arrested by my policeman – a probationary constable, delighted to make an official arrest, and the teller was removed to the police station for questioning.”
“So who was the fraudster?” Reg demanded insistently. “One of Devereaux’s staff?”
“Correct. The teller named him as Clement Dryborough, one of Devereaux’s team. The man was authorised to do banking for the university at the local branch. I expect the police will be speaking to him tomorrow as soon as he gets to work.”
“Excellent work, Freda. A thoroughly well-executed investigation on behalf of our company! Do we know how much was embezzled, and can we get any of it back?”
“I asked the manager to freeze the account as a criminal asset, as the police would be doing that anyway. I had looked over the figures, and not much of the ill-gotten gains had been removed. It was probably intended as a long-term scam, with the account to be emptied when Dryborough thought it was safe to do so and was ready to retire with his money. There is at least a quarter of a million sitting there to be recovered.”
Reg was delighted at this fact. “Great! Freda, you have proved that our company is a force to be reckoned with. All we need is for the Chemistry department matter to be resolved to our satisfaction, and we will be up and running as a viable business.”
Freda commented, “And without much expenditure as well!”
Fiona chipped in, “You ought to warn Devereaux what is about to happen, so that he knows we were responsible for rescuing the university’s money!”
“True,” admitted Reg. He had a thought. “Why don’t we get Freda’s mum, as our company accountant, to reveal all to Devereaux? That will have more impact. Freda, can I ask you to brief your mum, and ask her to phone Devereaux with the glad news, on behalf of our investigators? She doesn’t have to say it was her own daughter who revealed the scam.”
Freda’s eyes lit up. “With pleasure, Reg. It will show her that, like her, I am much better than any pretty face: I am competent, which is much more important.”
She went off to make that call, after grabbing the university’s staff phone list from her handbag.
Reg grinned. Alicia Dangerfield would have fun, phoning the university’s Chief Accountant at home with the tale of a thief in his own office. She would, as suggested, not reveal that the principal investigator was her own daughter; just say: a member of staff from the Recovery Enterprise Group. The Chief Accountant would be horrified at being duped by one of his own staff, so that would probably lead to a tightening up of procedures.
Frances congratulated Freda, then turned to speak directly to her husband.
“Reg darling, how is the wound feeling now?”
Reg blinked, guessing at what would come next. “So-so. Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering whether you are ready to up your performance on last night?”
“Oh? You expect me to do a song and dance act as well?” he grinned.
She pretended to slap him. “No, I meant do your husbandly duties. Do we need to rev you up, or are you not firing on all cylinders yet?”
Reg considered this, then answered, “I am not sure about my starter motor. You see, some of my brakes are still stuck, and it may need some lubrication to free them and get me moving.”
Frances was getting into this banter. “Tricky. Do you need to get under my bonnet to check the oil nipples?”
Reg laughed. “Now that you mention it, you are getting me into gear!”
The other girls started applauding. One called, “How’s your skoosher bottle? Is it ready to squirt?”
“Perhaps, but then I might get ‘tyred’ before long!”
“Seriously, Reg,” Frances said, concluding the banter,”Are you up to a bit more tonight? You have plenty of volunteers ready to roll.”
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- 19.05.2020
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