Dead Money (A Detective Inspector Paul Amos Lincolnshire Mystery) by Rodney Hobson Page A
Authors: Rodney Hobson
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there."
Nolan indicated three cabinets, each with four drawers. Amos groaned inwardly.
"I'll have a look through the current files. I'm afraid we will have to take them all away for a thorough search."
"You won't need the older files, will you?" Nolan asked. "Like I say, I've got copies of all the pending the deals but not those that have been completed."
"All the files," said Amos firmly. "You surely have it all on computer disks, don't you?"
"Mr Jones wanted it all down on paper. He didn't trust computers in case they crashed and lost all the records."
But she looked away from Amos's steady gaze. She knew he could take what he needed. The office was in too much chaos, the staff too demoralised to mount resistance.
Amos slid open the desk drawers in Jones's room. The one at the bottom had runners for taking files. There were no more than half a dozen. Amos took the three bulkiest ones and handed the rest to Swift.
"What are we looking for?" she asked.
Amos shrugged his shoulders.
"Anything," he replied simply.
Amos studied the first file in his batch. It was Scott Warren's. He read it carefully, despite having scrutinised it on his first visit.
Swift was already closing her third file long before he had finished. She pulled the two unopened files next to Amos’s elbow across to her side of the desk and looked up at the higher ranking officer.
He nodded and she opened the first one. Swift had finished the other two files by the time Amos had completed his probe of the Warren dossier.
“I wonder who Jim was,” Amos commented as he closed the folder. “Jones seems to have paid someone of that name pocket money to check on how much mail Warren got each day and how often the express couriers called.
“That’ll be Jim Berry.” Swift responded promptly. “He’s in all these files as well. He seems to do all Jones’s leg work for him. All the menial jobs and running about. Jones paid him peanuts but he seems to have been a willing worker nevertheless. Anything Jones wanted was always done within a couple of days.
“Jones has written notes on the file every time Berry reported back. Sometimes he is referred to as Berry, sometimes as Jim, occasionally by his full name but it’s clearly all the same person. He has a real gift for finding out all sorts of information.”
Amos glanced at the entries in turn. On each note a payment was recorded, £5, £10, once £20, all trivial amounts for what was usually a vital piece of information. Jones apparently placed great store by what Jim Berry dug up, for he always acted on the basis of what Berry provided, as witnessed by the final note on each sheet that bore the informant’s name.
“Berry must have had a lot of friends in a lot of places,” Swift ventured.
Amos thought for a while and the two sat for a couple of minutes in silence. Then the chief inspector rose from his chair, pushed the Warren file across to Swift with the words “Take a look through this for a moment,” and sauntered to the door, out into the main office and without asking, made his way to the filing cabinets containing records of deals gone by. The office minions watched him, bored but mildly amused.
Amos pulled the top drawer. It clanked metal on metal but it would not budge.
“It’s locked,” Miss Nolan remarked coldly and unnecessarily. “Those are confidential documents.”
“The key?” Amos asked, more as a demand than a question.
The head-by-default of the Jones empire produced the required item reluctantly. She unlocked the cabinets.
Amos pulled out the top drawer, keeping his body between it and Nolan to stop her seeing what he was looking at. Nolan sniffed and walked slowly back to her desk. Left to his own devices, Amos glanced along the row of files. Each was clearly labelled, mostly with the name of a company on a Perspex tab.
Amos flicked them forward one by one. The As were sparse but quite a number were deposited among the Bs: Baines & Stokes, Barker and
Nolan indicated three cabinets, each with four drawers. Amos groaned inwardly.
"I'll have a look through the current files. I'm afraid we will have to take them all away for a thorough search."
"You won't need the older files, will you?" Nolan asked. "Like I say, I've got copies of all the pending the deals but not those that have been completed."
"All the files," said Amos firmly. "You surely have it all on computer disks, don't you?"
"Mr Jones wanted it all down on paper. He didn't trust computers in case they crashed and lost all the records."
But she looked away from Amos's steady gaze. She knew he could take what he needed. The office was in too much chaos, the staff too demoralised to mount resistance.
Amos slid open the desk drawers in Jones's room. The one at the bottom had runners for taking files. There were no more than half a dozen. Amos took the three bulkiest ones and handed the rest to Swift.
"What are we looking for?" she asked.
Amos shrugged his shoulders.
"Anything," he replied simply.
Amos studied the first file in his batch. It was Scott Warren's. He read it carefully, despite having scrutinised it on his first visit.
Swift was already closing her third file long before he had finished. She pulled the two unopened files next to Amos’s elbow across to her side of the desk and looked up at the higher ranking officer.
He nodded and she opened the first one. Swift had finished the other two files by the time Amos had completed his probe of the Warren dossier.
“I wonder who Jim was,” Amos commented as he closed the folder. “Jones seems to have paid someone of that name pocket money to check on how much mail Warren got each day and how often the express couriers called.
“That’ll be Jim Berry.” Swift responded promptly. “He’s in all these files as well. He seems to do all Jones’s leg work for him. All the menial jobs and running about. Jones paid him peanuts but he seems to have been a willing worker nevertheless. Anything Jones wanted was always done within a couple of days.
“Jones has written notes on the file every time Berry reported back. Sometimes he is referred to as Berry, sometimes as Jim, occasionally by his full name but it’s clearly all the same person. He has a real gift for finding out all sorts of information.”
Amos glanced at the entries in turn. On each note a payment was recorded, £5, £10, once £20, all trivial amounts for what was usually a vital piece of information. Jones apparently placed great store by what Jim Berry dug up, for he always acted on the basis of what Berry provided, as witnessed by the final note on each sheet that bore the informant’s name.
“Berry must have had a lot of friends in a lot of places,” Swift ventured.
Amos thought for a while and the two sat for a couple of minutes in silence. Then the chief inspector rose from his chair, pushed the Warren file across to Swift with the words “Take a look through this for a moment,” and sauntered to the door, out into the main office and without asking, made his way to the filing cabinets containing records of deals gone by. The office minions watched him, bored but mildly amused.
Amos pulled the top drawer. It clanked metal on metal but it would not budge.
“It’s locked,” Miss Nolan remarked coldly and unnecessarily. “Those are confidential documents.”
“The key?” Amos asked, more as a demand than a question.
The head-by-default of the Jones empire produced the required item reluctantly. She unlocked the cabinets.
Amos pulled out the top drawer, keeping his body between it and Nolan to stop her seeing what he was looking at. Nolan sniffed and walked slowly back to her desk. Left to his own devices, Amos glanced along the row of files. Each was clearly labelled, mostly with the name of a company on a Perspex tab.
Amos flicked them forward one by one. The As were sparse but quite a number were deposited among the Bs: Baines & Stokes, Barker and
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