The first con
Roping the mark
Alfred returned to his flat, got out a glass of whiskey, and his pipe, and settled down to do some thinking. He needed an “in” to find out what was going on. He couldn’t simply walk up to Number 4, knock on the door, and ask the person answering it: “Excuse me, are you the people abusing a child?” He needed a way to gain their trust. Fortunately, a man like the corpulent Vernon were a type. They may be suspicious of strangers, but they were no strangers to the idea of grasping at money, and slightly underhanded tactics often made them friends with people they wouldn’t normally associate with.
The next morning, a man walked through an open air market, looking for a particular stall. When he found it, he bought a number of the items the man was selling, paid cash, and left.
The next moonless night, a man walked through the area around Privet Drive. He went into the gardens of several houses, stooping momentarily at least once in each garden. At No. 4, he stooped several times. Then he went to the park where Harry had sheltered, and stooped several times again.
A week or so later, Alfred walked into the local parish office, asking to speak with someone about permits. When the clerk asked him his business, Alfred replied: “I wanted to try my hand at metal detecting. I was reading that a Roman highway once passed through this area, and thought that there might be interesting artifacts in the area. I would report anything I find, and if on public lands, will share the findings equally with the parish. I will be respectful of others’ property, and do as little damage as possible – in almost all cases, no one would be able to tell I had been there.” Agreeable to the clerk, papers were issued, and a fee paid.
Armed with the permit, Alfred first went to the local allotment – at that community garden, he found several small value Roman coins. His next stop was at the park where he had met Harry, and there he again found several Roman coins and a small artifact or two. A few days later, Alfred was contacted by one of the people in the neighborhood of No. 4 curious as to what he was doing. They thought it would be interesting to see if there was anything at their places and so he went to their gardens and located several Roman coins and small artifacts. People talk, and over the next few days, Alfred was approached by more of the neighbors of No. 4, until finally, a large man, uncannily resembling a walrus, approached Alfred as he sat in the park, metal detector at his side.
The breakdown
“I hear you’re the man that is finding Roman coin in our neighborhood.”
“Yes, I thought I would try my hand at using a metal detector. I read that a Roman highway led through this town that had been removed years ago. On occasion, people traveling the highway lost things of value, or even buried caches in safe places if they feared an attack by highwaymen. The Dark Ages were a terrible time to live, and often caches were buried, never to be found again. Call me Alfred by the way, Alfred Thornton.”
“Vernon Dursley.”
The Convincer
The large man was egotistical, arrogant, and difficult to like, but the light of greed was in his eyes, and so the two agreed that they would go over No. 4 to see what they could find. In the course of the afternoon, several Roman coins and artifacts were found. Nothing large, but in the evening, the two met at a local pub and divided the findings. They drank a few pints and visited about the ups and downs of metal detecting. Vernon said: “That was an interesting finding. I think my boy, Dudley will like to have some of these coins when he’s a little older. The lad is too young at the moment to appreciate them. If he was told this (holding up a tarnished coin) was a penny, he’d probably spend it on candy. Best to wait until he’s a little older. I’m rather surprised that we found as much, but you must have found some good information.”
Alfred: “Yes, I spent quite a bit of time at an old library, where I found some records that led me to the idea of the highway. It’s information no other detectorist has found, and I’m glad it paid off in its way.”
As the two continued drinking and visiting, Alfred continued: “One of the problems is that if I find something large, I can’t just split it like I have with these small coins. The bloody government wants to stick its greedy hands into things, and if the finding is too large or valuable, they take it, sell it for me, and give me almost nothing.” Vernon: “Bloody government. The nerve of them, taking honest people’s hard earned cash. They do damned little for us honest people, just hand out money to people to damned lazy to shift for themselves.”
Alfred said, quietly: “That’s the thing. My research shows there was a small Roman fort not far out of town on public lands. I’d go there, but I don’t have a car, and if the parish council got wind of it and I found something large, they’d take it all and leave me with nothing so much as a by-your-leave. Bastards.”
Thinking about this, Vernon leaned back in his seat. “I have an idea. Would you like to go for a walk outside the pub and we’ll discuss it?”
Alfred agreed, they paid their tab, and left to walk outside. It was a mid summer night, the weather was pleasant, and there were few people walking the streets. Thanks to the telly, most people stayed indoors even on the most pleasant of evenings. Vernon told Alfred that he had a company car, and he could drive Alfred to the site. Of course they wouldn’t tell anyone about it, and they’d split any findings evenly. Alfred pointed out to Vernon that they had to be very careful, and tell no one. If they did find anything worth selling, they’d have to dispose of it carefully – often these things are sold from one person to the other at open air markets. A person could approach certain sellers, who for a fee, could move them without gaining unwanted attention from the government.
A deal was struck, hands were shaken, and the two agreed that on the next moonlit night, Vernon would take Alfred to the public lands, where he would drop him off, Alfred would search for buried treasure with his metal detector, and at an early hour, Vernon would return by, and collect Alfred and anything he’d found.
The sting
A few weeks later, the right night came. It was a moonlit night, fair skies, plenty of visibility, exactly the sort of night Alfred would never use to do anything chancy. The trip was for Vernon’s benefit, after all, and his goal was not schooling Vernon in the ways of stealth. Vernon drove his car to the parking area adjacent to what Alfred had come to refer to himself as “Harry’s Park”. Alfred appeared out of the shadows, and the two drove silently to the public lands Alfred had identified. Vernon dropped Alfred off, and headed home to wait.
Vernon remembered the conversation where they had established their plan. Alfred: “How about you meet me somewhere and pick me up. I don’t think we want to advertise that we are doing something together involving your car. After you drive me to the site, you should return to your house and wait. Make sure that your wife knows or has a good cover story, the last thing we want is for her to think you’re carrying on. In fact, have her come with you to pick me up, that way she doesn’t have any objections.”
At five AM, Vernon and Petunia, exhausted from waiting up so late, drove to the site, where Alfred was waiting, with a package in his hands. Alfred exclaimed: “I think I found something good. Let’s go to your house and see what I found.” At No. 4, the trio set the object on the table, and saw that it was a dirt-encrusted pottery bowl. They broke the top of it off, and were rewarded by the sight of a number of Roman coins, stuck together by centuries worth of corrosion and verdigris. Happily, the trio set about the task of dividing the find into half – it was almost all pennies, but there was a bronze bracelet and a couple decorative buckles. Vernon crowed “This calls for a drink to celebrate!” Petunia went to the liquor cabinet, and got a bottle of scotch whiskey, and the three drank to their victory.
As they drank, they talked about their lives. Vernon was working as a director of a company named Grunnings, which made industrial drills for oil wells. Alfred mentioned that he was a retired oil man, he had worked in the Middle East, and made enough money to retire at a relatively young age, and so the two hit it off, as they each knew a little something about the other’s work. Petunia was largely silent, but every now and then her bony hand would reach for the glass. As the hours passed by, the exhausted Dursleys and Alfred talked about their families. Alfred was an orphan, whose father died in the Battle of Britain, and his mother had died shortly after giving birth from injuries she had sustained in the Blitz. Alfred knew little of them, and so his talk of families was wistful, and compelling. As the Dursleys got more and more intoxicated, they waxed long about their son, Dudley, who featured in many pictures in the house. There were many of them, and unsurprisingly to Alfred, showed an extremely spoiled, heavily overweight boy.
As the Dursleys chattered, eventually, Vernon made an unflattering comparison between dear Dudders and a “Freak”.
Alfred inquired: “Who is this freak character?”
Petunia’s mouth twisted: “He’s the son of my sister. We were saddled with him a few years back, dropped off on our doorstep without any notification, not so much as a by-your-leave, just a toddler in a basket, and a note. My sister and her husband got themselves killed, and the people in the cult they associate with decided to saddle us with him.”
Vernon: “It was the damnedest thing. Not a bit of paperwork, just a kid on the doorstep like a bottle of milk in November. We tried to take him to social services, but they had no idea who they were, and there was no paperwork for him, no birth certificate, nothing. He’s a strange boy, quiet most of the time, but with a mouth and a temper.”
Petunia: “We never got along, my sister and I, she was estranged from our family and not speaking to me. I can’t say we are the best family for him, we only wanted the one child. We tried several times to get him placed where he would be wanted, but every time that bearded fool came along, and somehow stopped things from happening.”
Alfred: “Bearded fool?”
Petunia: “Yes, this man must be the ringleader of that cult. He’s tall, thin, with a beard that reaches to his knees, and wears the strangest clothes. Purple and yellow robes, for God’s sake. It’s about all we can do to drag him into the house before the neighbors see. He comes by, the people we’ve made arrangements with have suddenly forgotten everything we’ve talked about, and we’re back to where we’ve started.”
Vernon: “I tell you, without paperwork, it’s like the boy doesn’t exist. We have had a devil of a time getting him shots, or enrolled in school. I don’t know what that cult’s on about, but they certainly have nothing to do with honest, law-abiding citizens.”
As the trio talked, a story emerged of a family saddled with a responsibility they didn’t want, couldn’t handle, and couldn’t escape. They lashed out against the bearded man when he showed up, but, also against the boy. It wasn’t personal, it was that every time Petunia saw his green eyes, she was horribly reminded of her sister and their hatred for each other, and Vernon just couldn’t abide the boy’s anger issues and the strange things that happened around him. He just wasn’t a fit companion or step-sibling for their Dudley, and if they could get him placed elsewhere they would be ecstatic.
Alfred: “So every time you try to take him to protective services, or an orphanage, within a couple days, the bearded man shows up, and you wind up with him again?”
Vernon: “That’s the size of it. Somehow they have a way of telling if the boy is sleeping somewhere other than our house, and that’s when he comes back. The longest he’s been gone is a week before that bearded man comes around.”
Alfred: “How is he during the day, is he helpful at all?”
Vernon: “If he wasn’t so angry, or had such strange things happen around him, he would be a good boy. I just am at my wits end with him, and would gladly see the back side of him and that damned cult his parents were in.”
Alfred: “I might have an idea that could help. It doesn’t sound like that cult watches closely. After all, the only times they show is when they know he’s officially moved out. I could use a helper to fetch and carry things. If he were to sleep at your place, but leave every day before anyone woke, made it to my place, and I worked him, then returned him to your place after dark, the cult watchers may not notice he’s not actually living with you, just sleeping under your roof. I can’t pay you or him, but he’d be out of your hair. I don’t know if I could do this for a long time, but at least we could see if that would work. It’s not much, but it’s better than what you have now.”
Vernon: “I like that idea. It’s nearly morning, Petunia, you tell the boy, and let’s see if we can get him out of our hair.”
Cooling the mark
Flash forward a few weeks
Alfred met Vernon at the pub. “Vernon, I don't think I can do this much longer. I made a few hundred pounds, but I was talking to some friends the other day that said that Inland Revenue was going to take a closer look at metal detectorists. I'm going to get rid of it, and claim that I never found anything so I sold it. I'm sorry to stop doing this just as we were getting a good start – but once the metal detector stories drop out of the news, we can go back to the place.”
Vernon thought for a minute. This could be an opportunity for him – if Alfred wasn't going to the old site and got rid of his metal detector, then he could go there himself and get everything. It was obvious that that idea was percolating in Vernon's head. Alfred was quite pleased. Just a nudge or two more, and Vernon would take the metal detector off his hands, and shut him out of the process – Alfred after all, didn't want to spend his days with earphones digging around. If Vernon owned it, odds were good the tub of lard wouldn't actually use it anyway, and so the loose end would be neatly tied up by having the detector stored in Vernon's garden shed. There was almost zero possibility that Vernon would come under the scrutiny of the law – what with his “solid businessman” reputation and sheer laziness.
By the end of the evening, Vernon offered to “store” the detector in his garden shed.