John Eider - Late of the Payroll

‘Is it anything to do with this place?’ he asked. ‘He was in a state on Monday night. Is it the payroll? Has he cocked it up again? This isn’t just because he was scared to tell me he’s messed up my pay? I had words with him last time, Inspector, what with all the trouble that it caused some of the lads. I told him we were better off with the old weekly wage packets, and that they couldn’t afford to make mistakes in those days, no sir.’

Grey feared this upright fellow going aquiver as Gail Marsh had; but Philip Long held his upper lip stiff,

‘Anyway, work to get on with. Inspector.’

‘Mr Long.’

Grey wished him good day, as with the flick of a switch the machine resumed its humming, and the Philip Long returned his expert hands to the quick-moving lathe, the fact of having his fingers inches from whirring metal and shearing blades as natural to him as holding files at his desk was to the Inspector.

The meeting with the Superintendent on his return did not go well, inasmuch as for all Grey had to impart it did not make his superior happy. The glumness radiating from the other side of the desk was as much due to the broader implications of what the Inspector had had to tell his boss, as to the lack of resolution in either of the two incidents he had been changed with investigating: Thomas Long had not been found, and Alex Aubrey’s attacker was at large; but there were also shadows on the horizon, shadows in the shape of looming factories and of large groups of unhappy men. Preparations must be made.

‘So you think this could be more than a simple missing person’s case?’ asked the Super. Grey had been making the case for the disappearance of Thomas Long to be made a priority, and authorising overtime where needed.

‘Sir, I think if the factory fails then this will be big for the whole town. What it all has to do with Thomas, I don’t know. But there is more to learn, I’m sure.’

‘Then I suppose I’ll just have to patient,’ lamented the Super. ‘And what do we know about the factoryman Dunn?’

‘Nothing on our files, we’re checking the national computer,’ Grey reported back the results of his team’s enquiries. ‘His house was empty and there was no car outside.’

‘And do you fancy he’s involved?’

‘Well, according to the timesheet and his supervisor, he was back with his baguette within a quarter of an hour, finishing his shift without incident; so I don’t know what he could have managed to do in that short time, even if he did catch up with Thomas.’

‘Well, unless he’s skipped town one of the patrols will turn him up.’

‘Yes, there are a few people I wouldn’t mind a word with in this case.’ Grey thought he’d chance his arm here, ‘I don’t imagine, sir, you being friends with the Aubreys and all…’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know when they’ll be back in town any more than yourself. Though I am sure that if Alex told his staff he will be back tomorrow, and there is such important work to be done there, then he will be good to his word. I did ring them, when I heard about his injuries. I left a message on their answerphone. Just out of sympathy you know, nothing professional.’

Grey revelled in these details of the boss’ personal life, a side of him so rarely glimpsed. He also knew the message could have been waiting on their phone when he was there scouting around the garden, no more likely to have been picked up by anyone in that empty house now as then.

‘He hasn’t reported the windows or the injury, you know.’

‘Well he is very busy. I’m sure if he wants it followed up he’ll be in touch.’

Was it just Grey, or did he detect in the Super’s voice a slight sadness at his friend’s having left so suddenly and at such a moment, when his officers could have so used his assistance? Perhaps a darker feeling lurked there too, of the Aubreys not having played above board, of them being mixed up in something unsavoury, disappointing, unedifying. Yes, Grey decided, the Super must be worried, and not just for his friend’s wellbeing but also reputation.

‘How did it go?’ asked Cori as he returned to the office.’

‘He’s worried about the factory. Thank you for finding all that out on Dunn though.’

‘No problem, sir.’

The catching up of paperwork — finally clearing the backlog after the conference — and writing up his initial findings of today, took Grey long past the time a man occupied in more routine tasks might have been released back to the bosom of his family. He didn’t sense his day was over though. Where next? The bank, he considered.

It wasn’t far to walk, just a stretch of the legs across the Town Square and along the High Street. It didn’t seem right so warm a day drawing in so early though, he not the first to wonder how long this Indian summer could last? For it was already dark at getting on for seven o’clock, dusk encroaching enough that as he neared the bank he could see the lights on inside. Upon arriving he found himself at a loss as to how to get in, the doors of a bank once locked never normally needing to be opened until the next morn; indeed quite the opposite. Nor was there a bell, or any justification for customers to disturb those who may be inside once the stated hours of opening were passed. The building exuded security, the imperviousness of stone, its chiselled edifice stating in slow, steady tones, do not fear, your money is safe within these chambers.

The door though soon swung open, it’s heavy form in the hands of the tireless Mr Foy, in this instance fulfilling the manager’s role of keeper of the keys. He ushered the Inspector through behind the teller’s protected desks and up the stairs, toward the office that overlooked the street and shops below.

‘Ah, hello Inspector,’ Keith Pitt greeted, he seeming even in the manager’s office to have taken charge of things somewhat, young Gareth eager beside him, while Mr Foy upon returning hung at the back of his own room (bless him, Grey thought) looking scared half to death.

He quickly voiced his disquiet, ‘I must say, Inspector, going into others’ accounts in this manner is most irregular, even with your Superintendent’s assurances. I have insisted on certain limits though, even in such… pressing circumstances: I must insist any request for access to the Aubrey’s personal accounts will require their personal permission.’

‘Thank you for all your help, Mr Foy,’ Grey attempted to mollify him. ‘The Superintendent and I are most grateful for your and the bank’s assistance.’ Before reassuring, ‘I don’t however see any need to delve into their personal dealings as of yet.’

‘Well I am glad of that,’ muttered the man. Grey wondered if he always seemed so small, or only when frightened?

‘All our actions here will, I am sure, prove to have been justified as a part of our enquiries. I only want to know what Thomas Long found out about the finances on Monday and Tuesday, not the finances per se.’

‘That’s my job,’ added Keith Pitt chirpily.

Foy put to bed for now, Grey turned to the two men at the desk, ‘So what can you tell me?’

‘Well,’ began Keith Pitt, ‘Mr Foy has graciously allowed us access to the statements of the main income account of Aubrey Electricals.’

‘This is the account their bills and costs come out of,’ added Gareth equally cheerfully. Keith Pitt and his apprentice, the Inspector noted with some humour, hardly sharing the bank manager’s concerns for data protection, and loving every detail of Alex Aubrey’s business life uncovered.

‘Yes,’ continued Keith Pitt,’ and to be honest, Mr Foy, I am not sure we would need to see very much more than you have already graciously permitted us to, even if we requested it. It is a very simple tale, Inspector: of the company’s costs remaining much the same, while the income available to cover them went slowly down. It really is a tragic tale. Come here and look.’