Cat O'Nine Tales and Other Stories - Jeffrey Archer [18]
Dennis went along with his supervisor’s suggestion, which meant that he didn’t turn up at the offices of the Marco Polo laundry company for another three weeks. On arrival at the laundry, by appointment, he made it clear to the manager that his visit was nothing more than a routine check, and he wasn’t expecting to find any irregularities.
Dennis spent the rest of the day checking through every one of their customers’ accounts, only stopping to make detailed notes whenever he came across an entry for Mario’s restaurant. By midday he had gathered all the evidence he needed, but he didn’t leave Marco Polo’s offices until five, so that no one would become suspicious. When Dennis departed for the day, he assured the manager that he was well satisfied with their bookkeeping, and there would be no follow-up. What he didn’t tell him was that one of their most important customers would be followed up.
Mr. Cartwright was seated at his desk by eight o’clock the following morning, making sure his report was completed before his boss appeared.
When Mr. Buchanan walked in at five to nine, Dennis leaped up from behind his desk, a look of triumph on his face. He was just about to pass on his news, when the supervisor placed a finger to his lips and indicated that he should follow him through to his office. Once the door was closed, Dennis placed the report on the table and took his boss through the details of his inquiries. He waited patiently while Mr. Buchanan studied the documents and considered their implications. He finally looked up, to indicate that Dennis could now speak.
“This shows,” Dennis began, “that every day for the past twelve months Mr. Gambotti has sent out two hundred tablecloths and over five hundred napkins to the Marco Polo laundry. If you then look at this particular entry,” he added, pointing to an open ledger on the other side of the desk, “you will observe that Gambotti is only declaring a hundred and twenty bookings a day, for around three hundred customers.” Dennis paused before delivering his accountant’s coup de grace. “Why would you need a further three thousand tablecloths and forty-five thousand napkins to be laundered every year, unless you had another forty-five thousand customers?” he asked. He paused once again. “Because he’s laundering money,” said Dennis, clearly pleased with his little pun.
“Well done, Dennis,” said the head of department. “Prepare a full report and I’ll see that it ends up on the desk of our fraud department.”
Try as he might, Mario could not explain away 3,000 tablecloths and 45,000 napkins to Mr. Gerald Henderson, his cynical solicitor. The lawyer only had one piece of advice for his client, “Plead guilty, and I’ll see if I can make a deal.”
The Inland Revenue successfully claimed back two million pounds in taxes from Mario’s restaurant, and the judge sent Mario Gambotti to prison for six months. He ended up only having to serve a four-week sentence—three months off for good behavior and, as it was his first offense, he was put on a tag for two months.
Mr. Henderson, an astute lawyer, even managed to get the trial set in the court calendar for the last week in July. He explained to the presiding judge that it was the only time Mr. Gambotti’s eminent QC would be available to appear before his lordship. The date of 30 July was agreed by all parties.
After a week spent in Belmarsh high-security prison in south London, Mario was transferred to North Sea Camp open prison in Lincolnshire, where he completed his sentence. Mario’s lawyer had selected the prison on the grounds that he was unlikely to meet up with many of his old customers deep in the fens of Lincolnshire.
Meanwhile, the rest of the Gambotti