Late of the Payroll Read online

Directly from the interview with Mrs Long, and knowing Grey had already headed off to the Infirmary to cover the Alex Aubrey angle, Cornelia drove the short distance to the small mingling of plant and factory spaces to the north of the town. It has never been the prettiest of districts, she remembered from past visits, but reflected as she neared her destination that it certainly wasn’t getting any prettier. Sites were falling empty, others in mothballs. The length of the grasses growing through the cracks in the concrete forecourts and up the sides of bunkered buildings, seemed to her the surest sign of how long it had been since anyone had bothered to employ even basic upkeep on some of these once-proud industrial locations.

  She recalled being told how this whole area had once been an aerodrome, quite famous in the War, and that some of the oldest buildings dated from that time. As she watched from her car’s tinted windows, she passed a concrete shed beside a row of Nissen hut-like structures, the legend ‘Porter’s Precision Bearings’ borne upon a sign hanging at an unhealthy angle. Even the pouring sun brought no joy to the scene, the dust-blown drive and peeling off-white paint giving her the impression of some outback supply depot, as her shiny modern car slunk past. There were, though, signs of life amongst the relics: men with grimy faces stood by cavernous doors, others in clean overalls chatting and smoking, vans by bright newer buildings bringing goods; and from the more industrious locations, the sounds of grinding and firing as sparks flew from archways.

  She hadn’t driven to the Aubrey’s site before and so was trusting the Desk Sergeant’s directions, which though they turned out to be good were not exact. The road she found herself on seemed to be taking her around a giant curve, before for some hundred metres it ran alongside an articulated lorry-loading station that shocked her at the scale of it. She was almost delivered back onto the main road she had earlier turned off, before she found the end of the loading depot. There beside it, older but of greater stature, stood the short but ornate row of windowed offices, huge red logo atop them, that fronted the factory and workshops of Aubrey Electricals.

  The receptionist was politeness herself, and at the sight of Cornelia’s badge showed her up the stairs and past a couple of what Cori considered to be suspiciously empty-looking rooms, before leading her right into the main open-plan office itself, where even here only two were toiling in the shade of long blinds.

  ‘It’s always like this at lunchtime,’ smiled the receptionist, pretty in her summer dress, Cori wishing her job didn’t have her in a suit even in this unseasonably bright weather. Poor woman though, Cori thought, putting a brave face on the fact these two women were the only ones in an office that should have held a dozen or more.

  ‘Hello, I’m Sergeant Smith,’ she began, addressing the women, the receptionist absenting herself before Cori noticed she had gone. She selected a nearby empty chair to sit down. ‘I wonder if either of you knew that your colleague Thomas Long has been reported missing by his mother?’

  ‘I know,’ began a small girl with long straight hair hanging in a centre-parting that threatened at any moment to join at the front and cover her face entirely. ‘I spoke to his mum this morning, she was worried about him.’

  ‘Yes, it’s a terrible business,’ agreed a middle-aged lady whose figure suggested to Cori that her time not spent behind her desk was spent in a no less sedentary position away from work. ‘We’ve been talking about it today, haven’t we Cynth?’

  ‘Cynthia, is it?’ asked Cori turning back to the girl, she nodding in confirmation. ‘You spoke to Mrs Long this morning, and I believe you told her that you were here yesterday when Thomas left work?’ The girl was so small and frail-looking that Cori imagined herself addressing her as she would a child, the older colleague in this scenario filling the role of responsible adult.

  ‘Yes,’ began Cynthia, ‘we said goodbye and he left as normal.’

  ‘And what time was this?’

  ‘About five I think. Yes, it must have been, because I had to call my agency just after.’

  ‘And did he say if he was up to anything that evening?’

  ‘No. I don’t think he did.’

  ‘He’s not always the most communicative, is our Tom,’ the older woman cut in. ‘He’s a lovely lad, don’t get me wrong. But you’re not always sure what he’s thinking.’

  ‘And how did he seem to you before he left?’ Cori wanted Cynthia’s impressions before moving to her partner.

  ‘He just seemed normal.’

  ‘And in general, workwise?’

  ‘Well, he was a bit... you know, but no more than normal on a payroll week.’ Her words, spoken down at the floor and through that parted veil of hair, were barely audible.

  ‘Payroll?’

  ‘Oh, the payroll.’ This was the older woman again, seemingly no more comfortable than her colleague, but eager to talk. ‘Tom always runs the payroll on the last week in the month.’

  ‘Was that what he was doing just before he left?’

  ‘Since Monday, yes. It runs him ragged, doesn’t it Cynth? He takes it on his shoulders. He’s a very hard worker.’

  Cori’s pencil flickered across the pages of her notebook.

  ‘And what was your name, Mrs..?’

  ‘Gail, Gail Marsh. Senior Administrator.’

  ‘So he is usually very reliable?’

  ‘Oh, he is that. Lovely lad, lovely to work with. You never have to worry about him, you know? Not like some of these young ones, off for cigarette breaks, chatting up the girls, half of my time spent trying to keep track of them. So shy though. He wouldn’t say boo to a goose; and the factorymen are devils with him. I think that’s why he likes it up here. We look after him though, don’t we Cynthia? We send them away with a flea in their ear if they give him any gyp.’

  ‘So he was working on the payroll this week; and was that what kept him here late on Monday, Mrs Marsh?’

  ‘Yes, he may have stayed on an hour or two after me. Perhaps till six or seven?’ Gail looked to Cynthia for confirmation, but the girl could offer none.

  ‘Would anyone else have been working that late, Mr Aubrey perhaps?’

  ‘Oh no, he wasn’t there at that time – he’s been in and out of the office a lot lately; meetings, you know.’

  ‘So would anyone have been here who might have seen him leave; just so we can follow his movements?’

  Gail Marsh suddenly looked worried. ‘Well, you can see,’ she made a sweeping gesture with her arm, ‘we’re rather thin on the ground at the moment. What with the holidays, and the sunny weather.’

  ‘Yes, I did notice the empty rooms.’

  ‘Oh, they’re being emptied to be redecorated. Don’t pay any attention to them.’

  Cori didn’t need her experience in the job to tell her when she was being lied to, and by one so poor at it. But it was a good lie, a kind lie, a joshing, covering lie. The woman had pride in Aubrey’s, and in her colleagues, and didn’t want the cracks to show behind their wallpaper.

  Into the second’s silence Cori’s cogitating caused, young Cynthia, sad throughout, had produced a hankie and looked ready to resume the tears of earlier that day.

  ‘Poor love. You’ve had a horrible morning, haven’t you pet,’ Gail burst in. ‘I could curse myself, picking this morning to take poor Reggie to the vets,’ lamented the older woman.

  Knowing this was an area the Inspector would be sure to have wanted her to have asked about, Cori took her chance,

  ‘So, Cynthia, Mrs Long told me you had spoken to Mrs Aubrey this morning?’

  ‘Yes, she was upset too.’

  Speaking slowly and directly to Cynthia, Cori asked her to try and remember just what Mrs Aubrey had said, without thinking about the things that made her upset; no feelings, just the words.

  ‘Well,’ the girl began hesitantly, ‘she was trying to be calm at first, talking as if Mr Aubrey might just be a bit late in. But then she was sobbing and saying, “he’s hurt, he’s hurt.” And then... she got a bit more upset, and I didn’t k
now what to do.’

  ‘You’re doing brilliantly, keep going,’ Gail encouraged, before saying herself,

  ‘But the upshot of it all is he’s gone straight off to London today, when if I’m honest, we could have done with him being right here,’ a glance around the room bare of people making clear her feelings.

  ‘So, what’s he like to work for?’ continued Cori.

  The women looked at each other in uneasy silence.

  ‘Please don’t think you’re betraying anyone by answering,’ the Sergeant plugged on. ‘Have there been any difficulties with the staff lately, any arguments, disputes with the boss?’

  But still there was no answer.

  ‘There must be something,’ Cori urged. ‘Grumbles, whispers, gossip on tea breaks?’

  ‘Well, I’m sure it is the same at companies the world over,’ answered Gail Marsh at last, slightly defensively though, as if Cori herself with her questions wished to drive a wedge into the heart of their company unity. ‘There will always be someone saying something about the management. Mr Aubrey is a good boss, firm but fair. He’s always done right by us.’

  Cori decided to risk it, the one last big question, ‘So, there’s no truth then in the rumours of job cuts?’

  ‘And who’s been rumouring that, I wonder?’ Gail Marsh was on the warpath now. ‘I learnt long ago not to trust half of what people say they know about such things as they weren’t in the boardroom themselves to hear.’

  No closer to knowing if the men in the pub really lost their jobs, and sure that this line of questioning was getting her nowhere, Cori returned to safer ground,

  ‘What would really help us is if you could tell me some more about Thomas.’

  ‘Of course,’ assented Gail, her tone instantly lightening.

  ‘So, how long have you worked with him?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve been here forever it feels like. Cynthia’s been here about two months, isn’t it love?’

  The girl nodded in agreement.

  ‘You’re helping us out, aren’t you,’ said Gail to Cynthia, before turning back to Cori. ‘All the other girls left, claimed they were being worked to hard, but Cynthia here’s been a little Godsend; does the work of two others, doesn’t mind staying over.’

  ‘And so Thomas has worked here a while now?’

  ‘Five or six years. Started as a boy. I think it’s the only job he’s ever had.’

  ‘And has Tom always had his same job here?’

  ‘Yes, he runs the office with me, but he’s the best on the computers. Between you and me, Alex Aubrey wouldn’t know one end of a laptop from the other.’

  ‘And in that time has Tom had any troubles or issues?’

  ‘Tom? No, never. Straight as a die. The only trouble he ever has is when any of the lads downstairs get restless... and as I say, that’s just in fun.’

  ‘And does he see it as fun?’

  ‘Well, perhaps not as much as the lads do, but it’s very rare and if I’m here I send them off.’

  ‘Has anything like this happened in say the last couple of weeks?’

  ‘You know... well it wasn’t anything really.’

  ‘Go on,’ urged Cori, intrigued.

  ‘Well as I say, Tom always gets a bit stressed when its payroll week, the last in each month.’

  ‘Tell me a bit about that.’

  ‘Well, he’s the best with the computers. Alex hasn’t got a clue, and I’m not much help I’m afraid. But he’ll be head down over the keyboard, making sure he gets it exactly right, because if he gets it wrong...’

  ‘The staff aren’t paid enough?’

  ‘Or too much, which is just as bad.’

  ‘And this has happened before?’ Cori guessed so from Gail’s tone.

  ‘Yes, about a year ago. Tom doesn’t make many mistakes, but when he did, wow. He somehow paid a whole team – about thirty men – two months’ salary instead of one. It went through on their payslips, and the bank transfers had happened before we discovered it. He was so embarrassed. We told them right away, but a few of the men made a play of not wanting to give the extra back. Alex had to step in and tell them to stop playing silly beggars; and it was only that Tom would have taken a rollicking so badly that held Alex back from giving him one.’

  ‘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 a 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 Str
eet?’ 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 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.

  Chapter 5 – Experts...