Now it was Grey’s turn to go quiet, his mind closing in on itself for the split-seconds it took to figure out exactly what had happened here on Monday evening.
‘What time did you speak to Thomas, Mr Foy?’ asked Grey, ignoring the financial aspect a moment.
‘About six o’clock. He had tried to run it twice by then. The second time I had to call him.’
‘And how did he seem when you spoke to him?’
‘Frustrated at first, a bit nervous perhaps? Look, this isn’t really my field, Inspector. But he did say he was just about to call the bank himself and find out what the problem was. He was worried though, when I told him about the bank balance.’
‘So Alex hadn’t told him the money wasn’t there?’
‘It didn’t appear as though he had.’
‘And how did you leave it?’
‘That he would speak to Alex in the morning, and wouldn’t try the process again before then. I had been planning to call them today actually, to see how they were getting on in their efforts to raise the funds. The workers are meant to be getting paid on Friday.’
There was a pause before Mr Foy of the First National Savings amp; Loan continued,
‘So can I ask, if the police are involved, then does that mean there has been any… impropriety? If so, it really would be beneficial for me and the bank’s directors to know.’
‘No one’s suggesting anything like that, Mr Foy,’ answered Grey absent-mindedly.
‘Can I speak with you a moment?’ Keith Pitt asked Grey quietly, aware of the sound-snatching aspect of a telephone set to speaker.
‘Mr Foy. Stay by the phone please. We will get back to you soon.’ Grey hung up to hear what the financier had to say.
‘It’s the oldest story in the book, Inspector. You will have been there yourself, we all have at some point — it can be as simple a thing as a card gone out of date or a cheque not signed. The message is always very polite, “Please check with your bank as there may be a problem”. Of course, what it can mean, and does turns out to mean a lot of the time, is that the money simply isn’t there. But try telling that to an irate, embarrassed customer, swearing blind the cheque cleared their account that morning.
‘This is the same, only on a larger scale, and I expect that however it was broached when they spoke last month, our branch manager was as embarrassed to be having to tell Alex Aubrey that the coffers were bare as Aubrey was to be told.’
And then on Monday, Grey mused, his still exterior belying a mind in overdrive, there must have been a part of mild-mannered Mr Tay that was furious at Alex Aubrey, for making him have to call and explain all this again. And then again today, well…
‘I wonder, Mr Pitt, can we co-opt you this afternoon, to meet with Foy and go through the bank accounts.’
‘This afternoon?’ the man looked up at the clock.
‘Well, it might stretch into evening.’
Keith Pitt considered, not appearing to hurry his actions, ‘I’ll need to speak to Foy anyway, in my capacity as hired by Mrs Marsh. I’ll get off over there now.’
‘Once you’re there, have Foy call Superintendent Rose. He’ll give him any reassurance he needs. Go through this income account, find out why it’s empty,’ Grey instructed the financial expert as though he needed to be told. With the briefest word of reassurance to Gail Marsh that this would soon all be sorted out, Keith Pitt paused only to take his tweed jacket from the back of the chair as he left the office.
‘Are you okay to go with him?’ called Grey to Gareth, he loving every minute of being involved in something with a taste of what his investigative colleagues at the station were more accustomed to.
‘You are trusting that Keith Pitt with a lot here.’ This was Cornelia, reminding Grey that it was part of a Sergeant’s role to check their Inspector.
‘He seems a clever fellow, and we need all the help we can get.’ Grey turned to the twinkling red warning light on the screen, and clicked the button to Cancel it into submission.
‘Are we authorised at all to look at the firm accounts?’ she queried.
‘I can’t see the Aubreys being in any position to say no, can you? Darting off to London pretty sharpish just as things are getting serious. In rushing off he left Mrs Marsh in effective control, and we have her accent. Besides, I am not convinced Alex Aubrey is either thinking straight or acting in anything like good faith.
‘This is bigger than just Thomas Long now. If this place goes down, as I can’t help fearing it will be any day now, then we will be the front-line. There are five hundred men and women down there,’ he looked to the floor as if through it to the busy people and machines below, ‘who have mortgages on homes, payments on cars, and standing orders for flat-screen televisions which are not going to be met this month.’
He could be quite poetic at times Cori considered, admiring his little speech. She didn’t really need to test his actions, for she would follow his whims and ways till Judgement Day.
They turned to leave, to find Gail Marsh stood at the door, she and poor sad Cynthia Field alone again in their empty room with not a clue of what was occurring, only certain that it wasn’t anything good. Grey thought Gail looked dismayed yet stoical, if such a combination were possible. She spoke,
‘It is going to be hard, Inspector, keeping any of this from the workers downstairs. The payslips should be out by now — we can’t bluff them forever. The only reason they’re not up here asking for them now is because they know you… that the police are here. Sooner or later there will be someone from the union up those stairs like a shot, and what do I say to them? Where do I send them? Who’s in charge?’
At this point the steadfast woman broke down, Cori fulfilling some unwritten feminine role in being the one to rush to her and bear the sobs against her shoulder. ‘My husband works downstairs, you know,’ she wavered, wiping her eyes a little. ‘I can only tell him not to worry and that everything will be fine so many times, before he realises something’s up. Or else I find I just can’t lie to him any more.’
‘Chin up,’ encouraged Grey, ‘we’ll get this sorted out in no time.’ He gave Cynthia standing near a cheery smile, and Gail a hearty pat on the shoulder, which were rather the limits of his people skills in emotional situations. Cori released Gail from her hug, and bid the woman a reassuring farewell that was readily accepted.
With a last instruction for the ladies to call Alex Aubrey and get him back here today, that no matter what he was doing in London that this is more important, Grey and Cori turned for the stairs back down to reception; Cori wondering as they walked whether Grey’s promise to have this all sorted out soon would be one he could keep, while acknowledging he had had to offer the troubled women something.
Chapter 6 — …and Artisans
‘Time is getting on,’ muttered Grey, as he and Sergeant Smith went back down the stairs, a glance at his watch revealing it was already past four — nothing in police hours, but these days it would soon begin getting so much harder to find civilians at their allotted posts. ‘If you can call for a squad car, and we’ll go and have a word with these two lads — if they are the same pair from Monday night then they might be a handful.’
‘No problem, sir,’ she answered routinely.
‘And it doesn’t look as though we’ll be getting off at five tonight.’ He added this in a conciliatory tone, for what he was really saying to Cornelia was that she might not be home when her family expected her to be this evening. She said nothing though, so he dropped the hint again more bluntly, ‘You might want to call Brough too…’