was issued in 1947.”
“What? Let me see,” Pelham looked at it closely and shrugged.
“I don’t know if there’s anything unduly significant in that,” he said. “I couldn’t find mine when I wanted a passport and had to obtain a copy from Somerset House. It turned up later so now I’ve got two.”
“What do we do now, chase up the family?”
“Yes, but no point in you doing it. This is a private detective or heir hunter’s job, I can’t afford to have you gallivanting around the countryside when there’s work to do here. Get onto Rodney Fillery and get him to deal with this.”
Ruddock entered the building situated in Paddington east of the main railway station. He entered the lift and emerged on the fifth floor. The Rodney Fillery Detective Agency was the fourth door on the left, he entered and was greeted by the young receptionist. Another woman, aged about 40, was delving into a filing cabinet. She looked up and said “Hallo Norman.” She was Dania Ransom, Ruddock knew her quite well.
The Fillery agency did much work for Fell, Pelham & Drysdale. Rodney Fillery was a former member of the Met, he had reached the rank of Inspector before resigning several years before and starting his own security organisation. Virtually all of his operatives were ex-police, those who were not were computer staff, electronics and junior clerical. Dania Ransom was also ex-police. She was a former Metropolitan Police detective and had spent much time in the fine art and antiques investigations branch.
“Alright, Penny, I’ll deal with Norman,” she said to the receptionist and turned to Ruddock. “He’s expecting you. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Dania was a dark haired woman; she was quite slim, was stylishly dressed and looked years younger than her age. She was married to a Detective Inspector who was still in the Met, and they had two sons in their early twenties who were also in the police force, though they were both constables in country divisions. Dania was also one of Fillery’s field operatives, she had considerable expertise in the field of artistic fakes and forgeries.
Ruddock didn’t have long to wait, he was admitted to Fillery’s office and invited to take a seat. Fillery was a big man, about 15 stone but little of it was excess fat. In his younger days he had played Rugby Union for many years as a front row forward, and still spent quite a few hours in the gym. He had fair hair, though this was tending to recede now, and he had a small bald patch on his crown. He had a reddish complexion, with heavy jowls, and a ready smile.
“Good to see you Norman,” he rose and extended his hand. “What have you got for us? I understand it’s an intestacy case.”
“Looks fairly simple on the face of it,” explained Ruddock. “We’re trying to trace the family of the deceased. We’ve got his birth certificate, he was born in 1924 and he died recently. Surprisingly he never made a will.”
“Much money involved?”
“Quite a bit, his name was John Accrington, he was a millionaire, not sure how much offhand, but he was a wealthy man.”
“And you say there’s no will,” mused Fillery. “It looks as if he fell out with them all, though they usually leave it to charity if they want to spite anyone.”
“No, he didn’t even do that. Matthew had been on at him during the last few years, but he did nothing about it. We can’t quite get our heads around it, why he did nothing. Matthew reckoned he was coming around to doing something about it when he began to suffer ill health, but events caught up with him before he could act.”
“What do you mean, events caught up … half a mo! John Accrington? Wasn’t this the man who was murdered in a hotel room some weeks back?”
“That’s the one,” Ruddock nodded. “They haven’t arrested anyone yet.”
“So now he’s died intestate, and you want us to find any offspring or relatives. Are any heir hunters onto this yet?”
“Not that I’m aware,” Ruddock shrugged. “Accrington’s name could well appear on the next list issued by the Treasury.”
Fillery nodded. He was referring to the firms of professional heir hunters who investigated people who died intestate in the hope of finding relatives, and therefore beneficiaries. These firms worked on a percentage of the value of the funds allocated to any beneficiaries they found.
“Well we’ll get cracking at once, we may have a few weeks grace,” grunted Fillery. “But this is very strange, if he fell out with his family he would have surely willed it away somewhere, wouldn’t he? That’s the best way of saying ‘Up yours, you buggers!’ ” Fillery scratched the end of his nose. “By doing nothing, being intestate, he’s ensuring that they’ll all receive a proportion, assuming we can find them.”
“That very thought has struck us,” Ruddock spread out his hands. “It’s almost a contradiction.”
“OK, we’ll have a look at it.” Fillery stretched out his hand for the file. “What’s the time slot?”
“We’re not being besieged by claimants as yet, but if any heir hunters get involved it could upset matters. But that is another strange thing. There are no claimants at all.”
“That’s odd, very odd,” said Fillery. “Matt said that Barry Freedman was following it up, I gather they knocked sparks off each other. If it was anyone but him I’d probably ask a favour, but not that bastard. OK, I’ll put Rex Seymour onto it. This is all there is of the file, is it?”
“That’s it.” said Ruddock. “All the detail is in there, but I agree there isn’t much, the main item is the birth certificate. I’ll leave it with you, I guess it shouldn’t take too long.”
Rex Seymour sat before Rod Fillery and his thoughts were much the same as those of Ruddock and Fillery. Why hadn’t Accrington made a will? If he had fallen out with family members; dying intestate was one method of ensuring that the estate would be divided amongst whoever could be found, so if he wanted to spite them this would not have the desired effect. Or maybe he just wanted to spite his more immediate family members!
Rex Seymour was the odd man out as far as Fillery’s organisation was concerned. He was not a former member of any police force. He was aged about 31, and had spent some years in the army in which he finished with the rank of Captain, with tours in Ireland, Kosovo and the Middle East. When his tour of duty expired he decided that was enough, resigned his commission and re-entered Civvy Street, but found many occupations that were open to him were boring and mundane. He did not fancy a desk job, while the police force didn’t appeal, especially as he would be starting at the bottom and be under the command of people several years his junior.
When Fillery had offered him a job he had taken it with some reticence, but discovered that it suited him and he had settled in quite well.
He was roughly six feet in height, was well built and was an individual who could look after himself, being hardened by his years in the army. His fair hair was cropped short, this was one characteristic he had retained from his army days. He had married about four years previously, his wife had also been an officer in the army. She had also resigned her commission and was currently a civilian employed by the Ministry of Defence in their Defence Intelligence Department. That had been another factor that had swayed Seymour when pondering his future, both he and his wife had decided that marriage and the army were not compatible. He was also different from most of Fillery’s organisation in that, coming from an Army family, he spoke with what could best be described as ‘officer’s mode of speech’, where Fillery himself and most of the others spoke with a definite London intonation.
“Seems an open and shut case,” he remarked, as he studied the birth certificate in his hand. “There are probably traces of the family in the area, I see it was registered in Aylesbury, that’s in Buckinghamshire isn’t it?”
“Yes, not too far away, the place where he was born is a small village nearby within the registration district. You’re right, shouldn’t