Dick Francis's Gamble - Felix Francis [48]
“Did you find anything of interest?” I asked as I followed her down the corridor to the bedroom.
“Only this,” she replied, picking up something from the bed. “It was at the back of his wardrobe, hanging on a hook behind his coats.”
She handed me a small blue plastic box with a clip-on lid. Inside the box, all neatly held together by a rubber band, were twenty-two credit cards. I rolled off the band and shuffled through them. As far as I could tell, they matched the statements, right down to the variations in Herb’s name.
“Why would anyone have so many credit cards?” Sherri asked. “And why would they all be in a box hidden in his wardrobe? They all look brand-new to me.”
And to me, I thought. Herb hadn’t even bothered signing them on the back. These cards had been obtained solely for use on the Internet. But I knew that. I’d seen the statements.
Underneath the cards were four pieces of folded-up paper similar to the ones that Chief Inspector Tomlinson had shown me the previous morning. I looked at the lists of numbers and letters. The first columns on each side were definitely dates but they were written in the American way, with the month first and then the day, so “2/10” was the tenth of February. All the dates on these pieces started 1, 2 or 12, so were from January, February or December.
Sherri was sitting on the floor busily looking through a chest of drawers, lifting out neat piles of T-shirts and stacking them on the bed. I left her and went out of the bedroom, along the corridor and into the living room.
The handwritten lists I had photocopied yesterday were still on the desk next to my computer along with the photocopied bank and credit card statements. The dates on those lists all started with a “3,” for March.
I took them back to the bedroom.
On all of the lists, the second and third columns definitely looked like amounts of money. And the fourth column was a list of capital letters, possibly initials. I counted them. There were ninety-seven different sets of letters.
“What are you looking at?” Sherri said.
“I don’t know, exactly,” I replied. “Lists of numbers and letters. Have a look.” I handed her the sheets. “I think the first column on each side are dates and the next two are probably amounts of money.”
“In dollars or pounds?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. Was that why, I wondered, the amounts on the credit card statements didn’t match the amounts on the sheets. Were one lot in dollars and the other in pounds?
I left Sherri studying the lists while I went back to the desk for the statements and Herb’s calculator.
“What’s the exchange rate for the U.S. dollar to the pound?” I asked, coming back into the bedroom.
“About one-point-six dollars to the pound,” Sherri said. “At least it was last week, but it changes all the time.”
I multiplied some of the amounts on the credit card statements by 1.6 and tried to match the new figure against any on the handwritten lists. It was a hopeless task. I didn’t know the exact exchange rate, and there were over five hundred different entries on the twenty-two statements. Some of the amounts were close, but none were exactly the same. The best I could say was that they might have been related.
“Do you recognize any of the initials on the lists?” I asked Sherri.
“Is that what they are?” she said.
“I don’t know but they look like it.”
She shook her head.
“Did you know that Herb liked to gamble?” I asked.
She looked up at me. “Of course,” she said. “Don’t all men? Herb had always been one for an occasional flutter on the horses. Just like his father had been. It must be in the genes.”
“Did you know how much he gambled?” I asked.
“Never very much,” she said. “He may have liked the odd bet, but I know he believed that gambling had ruined our childhood. He would never have staked more than he could afford to lose. I’m absolutely sure of that.”
“And how much could he afford to lose?” I asked.
“What are you getting at?” Sherri said.
“Herb gambled a lot on the Internet,” I said. “A huge amount.