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on the brass nameplate. Inside were two desks, one empty and the other with a young woman speaking on the phone. An internal door was situated to the right of the two workstations, and Dawn gently knocked and opened it.

‘Mr Clifford to see you, Tony.’

‘Come on in,’ Yates said, walking around his desk to where Seb stood and shaking his hand. He was slim with salt-and-pepper short hair and stood six inches shorter than Seb. He was dressed conservatively in a pair of dark navy suit trousers, the jacket hanging on a coat stand beside the door, a white shirt and paisley tie.

‘Would you like anything else?’ Dawn asked.

Was he going to be offered a coffee? That would be most welcome.

‘No, we’re fine, thank you. Please take a seat.’ Yates gestured to the large table by the floor-to-ceiling corner window.

‘What a magnificent view,’ Seb said, admiring the one-hundred-and-eighty-degree skyline, a mix of old and new buildings, all blending effortlessly.

‘There have to be some perks of being the owner of the company, and having the best office is one of them,’ Yates said, standing by the window and giving a contented sigh, before returning his attention to Seb. ‘You informed my assistant that you wished to speak to me about Donald Witherspoon, on Sarah’s instruction.’

‘Yes, that’s right. Thank you for seeing me, I wasn’t sure you would under the circumstances.’

‘Initially I was going to refuse, then curiosity got the better of me. Why did Sarah want you to speak to me?’

‘She isn’t convinced by the suicide verdict and I’m investigating for her.’

‘Clutching at straws, I suspect,’ Yates said, shaking his head. ‘How’s she doing?’

‘As well as can be expected. It’s been tough for her and the boys. Have you been in touch with her? I noticed you weren’t at the funeral.’

He already knew the answer to that question but hoped to trigger a response to help him gauge the depth of his feelings about the situation.

‘I should have gone, but how could I after what had happened? I realise it wasn’t Sarah’s fault, but ...’ He shrugged.

‘Unfortunately, many people felt the same as you and she’s been left on her own to deal with her loss and the fallout from the discovery of his financial mismanagement.’

‘Do you agree with Sarah about the suicide verdict?’

‘My investigation is ongoing and as yet I don’t have a definitive answer.’

‘Are you a private investigator?’ he asked, frowning.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘What skills do you have, in that case? I hope you’re not taking advantage of Sarah in her vulnerable position.’

The irony of the comment, coming from someone who hadn’t even bothered to contact her, didn’t escape Seb.

‘Aside from being Sarah’s cousin, I’m a former police officer, and my colleague on this case is a serving officer.’

Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned that, not that it would get Birdie in trouble as he hadn’t mentioned her name.

‘Fair enough. Fire away. What do you want to know?’

‘I’d like a little background on the two of you. I know that you and Donald went back a long way, and that you were his only real friend. Can you give me a potted history of your relationship?’

‘We were in the same halls of residence at Leicester University and met during freshers’ week. We hit it off straight away and were friends ever since. I admit we didn’t see each other as much as we’d have liked in later years, but we would meet up every now and again, at charity events or social functions. And then sometimes, when our diaries allowed, we’d go out for drinks to catch up. Occasionally, we’d make up a foursome with him and Sarah, but my wife Pauline wasn’t keen on doing that. She liked Sarah well enough, but she disliked Donald and thought his friendly outgoing nature was all a facade. She saw what the rest of us didn’t, as it turned out.’

Was that enough for her to take matters into her own hands after discovering the fraud? Which would mean she’d have had to have known about losing their money before the death and it had become general knowledge.

‘From what I’ve discovered from his records, you invested a substantial amount of money with him at the beginning of this year.’

‘Yes, that’s right, I did. Two hundred thousand.’

‘Can you confirm that you’d never invested with him before?’

‘That’s correct, because I like to keep business and pleasure separate.’

Except he didn’t this time.

‘Why did you change your mind and invest in January?’

Yates leant forward slightly, and lowered his voice, as if wanting to make sure that no one else could hear. ‘He contacted me because he was desperate. He was having a difficult time financially and asked me if I could help.’

‘Had he ever asked you to help him out before?’

‘No, that was the one and only time.’

‘And you were happy to invest two hundred thousand pounds. That’s a lot of money to find.’

‘I have a thriving business and he was in trouble. He’d have helped me if the situation was reversed.’

‘How were you able to lay your hands on such a large amount?’

‘It has nothing to do with you.’ His body stiffened.

Seb immediately went on alert.

‘I’m trying to get a picture of how desperate he was and how deep your friendship went. Judging by your comments, I’m guessing you had to either liquidate some stocks or borrow from the bank.’

‘What else could I do? He was my friend. I borrowed from the bank.’

‘Did he discuss how he was going to pay you back?’

‘It was an investment, and I was going to get a return on my money, in the same way as the rest of his clients. I agreed to a five-year term.’

Nothing was sitting right.

‘So you tied up two hundred thousand pounds for five years. How did you receive your dividends?’

‘I was due quarterly payments and, before you ask, no I didn’t receive any. After the first due date had been and gone, I contacted him and he said there was a problem and he promised

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