The police station interview

Der Plan zur Lösung aller Probleme war einfach genial, wäre er nicht fehlgeschlagen. Und so kann nur die Bestrafung der Straftat zumindest ein Leben retten.

Witness statement of John Cole to DI Scott and WPC Fox. 05/11/2020, 13.00 –

“…Juggins,” Olly says to me as we stand looking at Peppermint Palace on Friday. “We need to set this building on fire, don’t we?”

So, I did. But, unfortunately, I made a mistake.

Why does he call me “Juggins”?

That’s his nickname for me, and I call him Olly, though not in public. I did that once by mistake and got into trouble, which was only fair. His full name is Oliver Beresford Hume de Lissac Carlton and, in public, I call him “Mr Carlton” or “Sir”. But that’s what makes our friendship special, because in private, we have our own names for each other. Juggins is short for “Juggernaut” because, well, look at the size of me. Somebody gets in my way and they get crushed.

How long have I known him?

Forever. I was working as a bouncer in a club when we first met. He comes in with a group of his posh mates and their birds, and there’s one friend — Tuppy — who’s very friendly with the prettiest. Olly comes up to me: “I’ll give you 20 quid if you help me play a joke on my friend Tuppy,” he says. “You see, it’s his birthday. Can you say some girl complained about him feeling her bum, and then throw him out?” And he winks and puts the money in my pocket.

I can see Olly’s a bit of a joker and I agree. So, as Tuppy comes back from the gents, I get hold of him and push him out the door. Olly comes up with Tuppy’s girlfriend, who’s all upset. “What’s going on?” he asks, pretending to be her knight in shining armour.

“We’ve had complaints,” I said. “Your friend can’t keep his hands off other ladies.”

Well, then she’s furious with Tuppy, so Olly buys her quite a few drinks to cheer her up and ends up taking her back to his place in a taxi. Within a year, they’re married, so it was all right for her. Until she caught him in bed with the nanny a few years later, but that’s another story.

By then, I was working full-time for Olly. He said I was his “factotum”, which I had to look up in a dictionary, but, basically, it means I do everything for him. I’m driver, minder, postman, coffee buyer…

Is he tight with money?

A bit. He’ll say, “Can you get me a coffee and post this letter, Juggins?” and then forget to give me the money or a stamp. But it’s because he’s a big-picture man. You can’t expect people like him to remember little things. He’s not like you or me.

The reporter? You heard about that?

It was like this: Olly had been running nightclubs for a few years and he wants to buy this smart club — Peppermint Palace — where all the celebs go. Some journalist starts asking about his business background, and people who don’t like Olly are saying he’s a liar and a cheat, and he hates this. “Olly,” I tell him, “relax. You can’t be everybody’s darling.”

But he doesn’t listen and, one day, I’m driving him to a meeting with people who are helping him finance everything. He’s reading the newspaper and there’s a comment about him in it, and he’s swearing and saying this journalist is going to ruin his deal, so I say, “Look, Olly. I’ll handle it.”

Well, I take him to his meeting and then go round to the journalist’s flat with a cap on and a pizza box in my hand. He opens the door and I slam my fist with a bunch of keys into his face. Down he goes, and I drop a copy of his article on the floor next to him and walk away. Never had any more trouble from him. Olly doesn’t say anything, but I know he’s pleased when he hears about it because he leaves two £50 notes on my car seat.

And that’s how it works. If somebody’s a nuisance to Olly, I pay them a visit and the problem’s gone. Normally. Until Peppermint Palace.

What went wrong?

Olly messed up. The banks weren’t interested in his plan, so he gets private investors to give him a lot of money to buy the club. Normally, that would be OK because Peppermint Palace is a money machine. But because of Covid, London goes into lockdown. No body’s spending a thousand quid on a bottle of champagne in a club any more. And the investors are seriously dangerous people with names like Reg, Yuri, Satnav, and they want their money back. Olly suggests I pay them a visit, but I tell him that each of them has got about ten factotums like me, so that’s not going to work. And that’s when he hints that maybe Peppermint Palace should burn down.

Why would he want that?

Blimey, for a detective, you aren’t very smart, are you? Insurance. With the insurance money, he can pay back the investors. So, last night, I set the place on fire. Olly got a call today from the fire brigade to tell him what’s happened, and tomorrow, he wants to give the insurance company a ring. And that’s why you need to arrest Olly now, before his investors find out about my mistake and kill him.

Setting fire to the building?

That’s not my mistake! Remember I told you he gets me to do things like buy coffees and post letters? Well, when I put on my jacket this morning, I found a letter of his that I forgot to post last month. It’s the cheque for his insurance policy…

“He opens the door and I slam my fist with a bunch of keys into his face. Never had any more trouble from him”