A Genuine Mistake by Ted Tayler (miss read books txt) 📗

“We never close the file until we’ve found the killer, Mr Hogan,” said Gus.

“Right. So, what do you need from me?”

“I have a basic understanding of what you do here, Mr Hogan,” said Gus. “Has it altered much since your father’s death? Are you taking the business in a different direction?”

“Dad followed basic principles,” said Sean. “Daniel got schooled in the same manner, and I can’t see any good reason to change the range of products we offer. The packaging might get a revamp from time to time, but the core elements remain. Everyone has a different vision of their ideal future, Mr Freeman. That’s why we at Hogan’s work hard to understand the life goals a client aspires. I need to get to know the real person to help build a unique financial plan that delivers the lifestyle they have in mind. I want to know their needs, goals, and approach to risk. Some people are already making plans for their ideal future, but you would be surprised how many have made no plans whatsoever. A quick look at your current arrangements, for instance, would enable me to see whether they’re likely to deliver the goods.”

“I’m not here to discuss my arrangements,” said Gus. “When your father set up this business, did he handle everything in-house?”

“He came here from Hargreaves Lansdown, as I’m sure you know,” said Sean. “He left there with their good wishes, and there were no issues with him branching out on his own. My father understood how to advise on a range of investment services and products. To help him meet his client’s needs in those early years, he used managers from across the fund management industry. People that he believed possessed the right skills and expertise. As the years passed, Dad needed to rely on those managers less and less.”

“You don’t employ many members of staff,” said Gus. “Your set-up is more of a lean, mean fighting machine.”

“Which is precisely the model my father wanted,” said Sean.

“Did you ever take an interest in your late mother’s work? Did she show you how to use a camera, for example?”

“I was only eight when Mum died, Mr Freeman. The kit she used was far too specialised for us boys. We each had a ‘point and shoot’ cheap camera for days out with our parents. Mum died before we were able to appreciate just how good she was. Her studio was off-limits then, and it still is today. I would love to see her portfolio find a wider market. Her photographs appeared in dozens of magazines and periodicals. Maybe one day, I’ll ask Byron to take a look. He’s the artistic one. Perhaps he could catalogue her work and publish it in a book. My role would be to find the best place to invest the proceeds.”

“You both spent a good deal of time with your Aunt, didn’t you?” asked Blessing.

“Both before Mum died and afterwards. Yes, we couldn’t have got through it without her. Mum’s death devastated Dad. He was operating on auto-pilot for months. He spent much more time with Byron and me, making sure we were okay. He was a laugh.”

“Really,” said Gus. “The people we’ve spoken to have told us what a great chap he was, but I can’t recall anyone mentioning his sense of humour.”

“You know that Byron is a professional snooker player?”

Gus nodded.

“Well, I started playing at eight. Dad had always played. Nick Barrett played with Dad at the club on Market Street.”

“We know it,” said Gus. “One of my sergeants went there the other evening.”

“Dad showed me the rudiments of the game, and we had a knockabout on the table in the games room. Byron was too short to be able to join in at six years old, so Dad got him a stool. Byron was a natural, and Dad spotted his potential. Did you ever watch John Virgo on TV?”

“I don’t recognise the name, sorry,” said Gus.

“He was a professional player who still commentates on the game. Dad told us that the pros would go to small clubs like the one in town and play exhibition matches in the old days. Those nights supplemented their income in the days before colour television. It was hard to sell the game to TV companies when everything was black and white. Anyway, there weren’t as many tournaments as there are today. Virgo wasn’t the best player ever, so he covered his blunder with a joke when one of his trick shots went wrong. As time went by, the routine was more comedy than trick shots as he entertained the crowds with impersonations of top players, past and present.”

“Did your father have a talent for impressions?” asked Gus.

“Not really. Dad was hopeless. But for us boys, it was great just spending time with him. By the time Rachel moved in, it was obvious Byron could be an exceptional player.”

“Did Rachel ever join in?” asked Blessing.

“She used the time to work out in the gym Dad had installed for her. Rachel stuck her head around the door to call us for dinner or ask when we were going to bed on a school night. She never wanted to play.”

“What did she think of your Dad playing the fool?” asked Blessing.

“Dad wouldn’t have let anyone else see him like that,” said Sean. “He used to tell us there was a time for business and a time for fun. He let his hair down for a few minutes in that games room and had us in stitches. As soon as we walked back into the lounge or the kitchen, he was back to his usual, sober self.”

“When did Byron start playing in the snooker club?” asked Gus.

“I had to be sixteen before they allowed me to become a member,” said