Dead Money (A Detective Inspector Paul Amos Lincolnshire Mystery) by Rodney Hobson
Authors: Rodney Hobson
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block where he could not see who was coming or going.
"But Foster was not there in the evening, was he?" Amos persisted. “And we’ve no idea whether this mystery woman – Jean, er Joan, Thornton - left that night or not?”
The wretched guard looked around like a frightened, cornered rat. Amos gave him a bolthole.
"I shall not report this matter to your employers unless I have to. But I must know how many times you left this post unattended and for now long. If you don't co-operate I have no choice but to talk to the firm. I hope you can see that."
"Three times for about five minutes. No more."
Think of a number and double it, Amos advised himself. He probably left the gate half a dozen times for up to 10 minutes at a stretch.
"The barrier was down all the time," the guard added sullenly. "No one drove in or out."
"It doesn't take much to duck under the bar and walk in, though, does it?" Amos retorted. "We can just about rule out the elderly and the arthritic," he added with heavy sarcasm. "Everyone else is a suspect."
The guard hung his head ashamedly. He made to speak, then thought better of reminding Amos of his promise not report the incident to his boss.
"Well that's it, then," Amos told Swift a few minutes later. "Everybody and his dog is a suspect now. Jones had business dealings with half the town. Where do we start?"
Chapter 13
"I think," Amos told Swift next morning, "we had better pay another visit to Jones's office. If we have to interview all his business contacts we'd better find out the extent of the bad news."
"Just when we'd worked our way through the Killiney Court residents and thought we were narrowing it down," Swift grumbled. "Shall I get someone to go and get a list?" she asked, hoping to deflect what would patently be a laborious task away from herself.
"That won't be necessary," her boss replied simply. "I want to go down there myself. You'd better come with me."
Swift drove. Traffic was heavy for no obvious reason so it was half past nine by the time they arrived. Although it was now well past office opening hours, the nerve centre of Jones's business empire was stricken by lethargy. Three secretaries stood around gossiping in a small group, leaving the phone to ring in the far corner.
Miss Jade Nolan, Jones's rock upon whom the office stood fast while he was out wheeling and dealing, was drowning in a morass of papers. She was close to tears, overcome by genuine grief at the cruel loss of her leader and by the frustrations of enforced inactivity. No one knew who now owned the company, who was in charge, what decisions had to be made nor what to decide anyway.
The office, the empire were in limbo. Nolan seemed almost relieved to see Amos and Swift. Few people in this investigation had been, Amos mused. The office manager stood up, leaving the paper Everest to its fate.
"Inspector Amos," she said with something approaching enthusiasm. "I wasn't sure we would see you again. You seemed to lose interest last time you were here, if you'll pardon my saying so."
"Granted," Amos replied. "I doubt if you will welcome my return, though," he continued frankly. "I'm afraid we're going to turn your whole routine upside-down."
Amos did not need to be told that this last remark was ludicrous. The routine had clearly already been sent topsy-turvy. There was nothing to disturb but chaos.
The officer continued briskly: "We shall need a full list of all the people Mr Jones did business with. We shall need details of all the deals he was working on when he died. We also need to know of any companies or individuals that he competed against and anyone who might have held a grudge against him, anyone who lost out to this company."
"I suggest you work in Mr Jones's office," came the response. "All the documents relating to current deals are filed in his desk drawer. He had a copy of them all and so did I. All of the older deals and documents are in the filing cabinets over
"But Foster was not there in the evening, was he?" Amos persisted. “And we’ve no idea whether this mystery woman – Jean, er Joan, Thornton - left that night or not?”
The wretched guard looked around like a frightened, cornered rat. Amos gave him a bolthole.
"I shall not report this matter to your employers unless I have to. But I must know how many times you left this post unattended and for now long. If you don't co-operate I have no choice but to talk to the firm. I hope you can see that."
"Three times for about five minutes. No more."
Think of a number and double it, Amos advised himself. He probably left the gate half a dozen times for up to 10 minutes at a stretch.
"The barrier was down all the time," the guard added sullenly. "No one drove in or out."
"It doesn't take much to duck under the bar and walk in, though, does it?" Amos retorted. "We can just about rule out the elderly and the arthritic," he added with heavy sarcasm. "Everyone else is a suspect."
The guard hung his head ashamedly. He made to speak, then thought better of reminding Amos of his promise not report the incident to his boss.
"Well that's it, then," Amos told Swift a few minutes later. "Everybody and his dog is a suspect now. Jones had business dealings with half the town. Where do we start?"
Chapter 13
"I think," Amos told Swift next morning, "we had better pay another visit to Jones's office. If we have to interview all his business contacts we'd better find out the extent of the bad news."
"Just when we'd worked our way through the Killiney Court residents and thought we were narrowing it down," Swift grumbled. "Shall I get someone to go and get a list?" she asked, hoping to deflect what would patently be a laborious task away from herself.
"That won't be necessary," her boss replied simply. "I want to go down there myself. You'd better come with me."
Swift drove. Traffic was heavy for no obvious reason so it was half past nine by the time they arrived. Although it was now well past office opening hours, the nerve centre of Jones's business empire was stricken by lethargy. Three secretaries stood around gossiping in a small group, leaving the phone to ring in the far corner.
Miss Jade Nolan, Jones's rock upon whom the office stood fast while he was out wheeling and dealing, was drowning in a morass of papers. She was close to tears, overcome by genuine grief at the cruel loss of her leader and by the frustrations of enforced inactivity. No one knew who now owned the company, who was in charge, what decisions had to be made nor what to decide anyway.
The office, the empire were in limbo. Nolan seemed almost relieved to see Amos and Swift. Few people in this investigation had been, Amos mused. The office manager stood up, leaving the paper Everest to its fate.
"Inspector Amos," she said with something approaching enthusiasm. "I wasn't sure we would see you again. You seemed to lose interest last time you were here, if you'll pardon my saying so."
"Granted," Amos replied. "I doubt if you will welcome my return, though," he continued frankly. "I'm afraid we're going to turn your whole routine upside-down."
Amos did not need to be told that this last remark was ludicrous. The routine had clearly already been sent topsy-turvy. There was nothing to disturb but chaos.
The officer continued briskly: "We shall need a full list of all the people Mr Jones did business with. We shall need details of all the deals he was working on when he died. We also need to know of any companies or individuals that he competed against and anyone who might have held a grudge against him, anyone who lost out to this company."
"I suggest you work in Mr Jones's office," came the response. "All the documents relating to current deals are filed in his desk drawer. He had a copy of them all and so did I. All of the older deals and documents are in the filing cabinets over
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