John Eider - Late of the Payroll

‘It must have really upset Thomas?’

‘Oh, it did Tom a lot of harm, he was quiet for days after, and the next month he was a bag of nerves, triple checking everything, here till seven one evening.’

‘And have there been any problems since?’

‘No, and there had never ever been before, it was complete one-off.’

‘And Tom was running these same processes this week?’

‘Yes, he would have been.’

‘And how did he seem?’

‘Well, he’s always occupied by it, it takes over his day. And later on Monday I think one of the lads was up here, asking him for their payslip.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘Well, we start the inputting and checking on Monday, then during the week payslips are printed and handed out, and then the money arrives in all our accounts for Friday. But sometimes some of the lads come by early to see if the payslips are ready yet.’

‘Even on Monday?’

‘Yes, if they are working late enough. If all goes well we can start printing them as early as that afternoon.’

‘And someone was here asking for theirs late on Monday?’

‘Well, it was just Chris from the shopfloor. I passed him as I was leaving. I can’t think of any other reason why he’d be coming up here at that time.’

‘And you didn’t hear the conversation?’

‘No, as I say, I was on my way out, I already had my bag and coat.’

As this point, the underlying tension that Cori had detected at times in Gail’s manner and voice broke the surface stillness, as she finally admitted what was worrying her,

‘I’m afraid, Sergeant, that it all might have something to do with this, you see.’

‘What has, Mrs Marsh?’

‘Well, I’m sorry to say they still aren’t ready. The payslips!’

Cori made notes as the story unfolded.

‘Tom was having trouble with them, you could see that. He’d stayed late on Monday, and was so stressed first thing Tuesday. I was getting worried for him. But then Mr Aubrey came in, late as it happened, he and his wife all flustered — they’ve been in a funny mood all week, to be honest — and whatever conversation they had, Tom looked happier afterward, as if Mr Aubrey had said he would look into it for him. He’s good like that: no matter what work he has on, you can ask his help or opinion.

‘I wasn’t so worried at the time, Sergeant, I mean it was only Tuesday and we had all week to fix the payroll. But that was yesterday morning, and whatever issues there were still hadn’t been resolved by hometime. And now today neither of them are in.’

‘So what does this mean, as it stands? Are people going to get paid?’ Cori spoke with authority though in a field where she possessed none.

‘I don’t know,’ Gail fretted, ‘I can’t work the program — his computer is linked to the bank. Oh, Tom! He’s so reliable. I can’t believe he hasn’t come in today.’

‘Well, that might not be through his choice.’ That these were the wrong words, the Sergeant realised the instant Cynthia brought her hands and her hankie to her face and burst out crying again. Cori feared the older lady might dissolve into tears also, but Gail just about kept going,

‘“One of them will be here this morning to sort it out,” I said to myself as I was walking into town today. And then I got here from the vets, and there was poor Cynthia in tears, telling me Tom hadn’t come home last night and the Aubrey’s had gone straight to London, not to be seen at all today. But we didn’t panic, did we,’ she held the crying girl’s hand. ‘We kept calm and made a decision.’

‘And that was?’

‘We hired someone, from that computer company, the one just off the High Street?’ Cori knew the one. ‘They’re sending an expert, the fellow on the phone said. He’ll be here this afternoon. You don’t think we overreached ourselves? But what could we do? There was no one here to ask.’

‘Not at all. That sounds very sensible. And it will help us: if we find out what was going wrong, then we might knew better what was on Tom’s mind.’

‘You don’t think… I mean, he wasn’t under that much pressure, was he?’ Gail by now seemed to have lost all her desire to look on the bright side, and was instead facing the very worst possibilities.

‘There’s no evidence of any harm done, Mrs Marsh.’

‘What do you think’s happened to him, Miss?’ This was Cynthia, the first words she had uttered for several minutes. So desperately did the young woman want something to cling to, that Cori felt drawn to abandon the reserve an officer should retain at such times, at least briefly enough for a spot of hopeful speculation,

‘My honest opinion?’ And it was her honest opinion. ‘From what I have heard of Thomas this morning, from his mother and yourselves, he sounds like a nice lad. I think he likes his life, he likes working here with you. I think that if the payroll went wrong again, then perhaps he felt under pressure. Perhaps he ran away.’ Cynthia smiled at this, as the three sat pondering Tom’s state of mind awhile, before the professional in Cornelia gathered the reigns afresh,

‘Right, if this IT expert is due soon I think we might wait for him. Now I have to make a call, but before I go, I’d be grateful for the full name of the man who spoke with Thomas on Monday evening.’

Gail quickly spoke for Cori to record in her notebook: Chris Barnes it had been that evening, and his mate Larry Dunn had also been asking on Tuesday morning, if it made any difference. The women were keen to follow the instructions of the obviously competent officer, who they had over the course of their interview come to trust as one who might actually figure out some of the confusion swirling around them.

‘And you’ll let us know if you hear anything, won’t you?’ asked Gail.

‘Of course, it goes without saying.’ Cori turned to leave and find a quiet corner to make her call, which in this haunted shell of a building wouldn’t be hard, and was almost gone when a quiet voice said,

‘I hope he’s alright.’

Cori turned quickly.

‘Tom. I hope he’s alright.’

‘You like him a lot, don’t you?’ Cori read from the poor girl’s demeanour. So small was the young typist, that in this tearful state she seemed crushed, compacted by events.

Cynthia only nodded at first, before confirming in a near-whisper, ‘Yes, I do. We all do…’ and at this she burst into a flurry of tears, and was almost instantly gathered up into Gail’s arms.

‘Look after her,’ Cornelia suggested needlessly.

‘I will do,’ said Gail, through the mess of Cynthia’s hair held tightly to her; and the two women smiled sadly at each other, as Cori turned and left the room.

Cornelia knew that from that point on that she would be doing all she could to look for Thomas Long; and not only because it was her duty, or because it was what the police did, or even for the lad’s own good. She would be doing it for these different women so saddened by his vanishing; for Gail and Cynthia, and especially Mrs Long, whose own interview had moved her so mere hours before. How lucky he was, she thought, to be so cared for and so missed, his mere absence making of these women’s eyes wet wells, drawing water from the lake of deepest pity. She would find Tom, she knew it, and she would find him for these women.

Cornelia called to find Grey was already on his way back into town in the squad car. She stood in the carpark to meet him, the IT consultant arriving as she waited. There was also a fellow from the force’s own HR staff, Cori having called the station asking for the most technically-minded one there to get here, just in case they could be of any help.