He screwed up his face and shook his head. ‘No chance, on what we’ve got. I tried that on my boss and he nearly blew me out of his office. Before we can ask the Philadelphia police to go anywhere near Reilly we have to show them good cause. The way things are at the moment there isn’t the semblance of a case against the man.
‘Your big pal might be dead certain about him, but until we’ve had a chance to talk to Mr O’Rourke in a room with walls that move about, there’s no way we can prove it. And maybe not even then; our boy Gary does not strike me as a soft touch.
‘When he was questioned about that shooting thing he was involved with a security outfit; the sort that provides bouncers for pubs that really need them. He was one of their top men.’
‘What was that about?’
‘Some guy in Garthamlock got himself kneecapped, for reasons unknown. No one ever suggested that O’Rourke did it, but he was fingered as having ordered it. However, when they nicked the guy who actually did it, he said he’d never heard of him.’
I shrugged and got up from my captain’s chair. I had been working at the desk; on Jan’s side. I had decided that from now on, for ever more, that would be my work station.
‘Sod him, anyway,’ I muttered. ‘That’s yesterday’s business; and it was never my top priority. D’you get that stuff from Susie?’
He nodded and opened his briefcase. ‘Has my pal from forensics been?’ he asked, as he took out a sheaf of A4 documents.
‘Has he just. I’ve only just finished cleaning the powder off the desk and the kitchen units. He lifted a few prints and I gave him mine for elimination — I want them destroyed, by the way, Mr Dylan, once this thing’s over — plus as many as he could get from Jan’s hairbrush.
‘Not having a full set of Jan’s prints is going to be a problem for him, if he finds one that looks odd.’
Mike shook his head. ‘Not really, Oz. The prints will only come into play once we’ve caught someone, as part of the chain of evidence. One dab won’t point us at a suspect — that sort of thing doesn’t happen.’
He dropped Susie’s photocopies on to the desk, and spread them out. As I had recalled, there were up to a hundred of them.
‘These,’ he said, ‘are the purchase ledgers for the health care division of The Gantry Group, stretching back ten years. They’re the files that Jan took away with her.’
‘What are these places anyway? Nursing homes?’
Dylan frowned. ‘Not exactly, though I suppose most people would call them that. These aren’t the sort of places where you park your granny. Because of the nature of the care they provide, they’re actually classed as private hospitals. They look after geriatrics sure, but also people with pre-senile dementia and the terminally ilclass="underline" they take in a lot of cancer patients.’
I picked up one of the sheets. ‘Are there separate purchase records for each place?’
‘No. Susie says that because of the size and the nature of the business they’ve operated on a group basis for the last ten years. All their major purchasing is done centrally.’
‘I see.’ I looked at the sprawl of records on the desk. ‘Let’s split them. You take the first five years, I’ll take the second. You ready to enjoy your day off, Inspector?’
He scowled at me. ‘Sure; digging for dirt in my girlfriend’s company. . without a bloody clue where to start looking.’
We sat down facing each other across the desk; he was on what had been my side, and I was in Jan’s place. Until I saw the truth of it before me, I had no idea how much was involved in running a chain of small private hospitals.
There were stationery purchases, office equipment, office telephone costs, office furniture, office cleaning, office heat and light, newspapers and periodicals, hospital cleaning materials, bedding, towels, soap, miscellaneous sanitary items, hospital furnishings, hospital heat and light, hospital telephone costs, nurses’ uniforms, nurses’ footwear, pharmaceutical supplies listed by drug purchased, other medical supplies listed by quantity, ambulance costs, petrol costs, hospital indemnity insurance costs, hospital fabric insurance costs, staff recruitment costs, miscellaneous costs and sundry expenses. I’m sure there were others too, but that’s all my mind could cope with at the time.
For hours we sat there, working as methodically as we could, taking each annual total and checking it against items listed under that heading during the year, making sure that everything added up, looking for anomalies. Everything did; there weren’t any.
Occasionally, the phone would ring, but I left the answering service to pick up messages. Occasionally, one of us would go through to the kitchen for a coffee refill. But mostly we just worked away in silence, reconciling the records, proving to ourselves that while Mr Joseph Donn may have been inadequate as a Finance Director, the book-keeping staff he oversaw had at least been meticulous.
It was well into the evening before Dylan finally cracked. ‘Oz, this is bloody useless,’ he moaned, leaning back in his chair. ‘Your wife was a chartered accountant, and a bloody good one there’s no doubt.You and I are a couple of number-blind idiots with calculators. Without a hint from Jan, which we haven’t got since her notes have vanished, we’re never going to crack this. And if we did we’d probably find that the office junior was into the tea-money, that’s all.’
I knew that wasn’t true, since I could remember how excited Jan had been; but he was right in pointing out that without her guidance we were stumbling about in the dark.
‘Come on, Mike,’ I said. ‘We’re both knackered. Let’s take a break, go for a pint and a curry, and see if that gives us inspiration.’
‘You’re on for that,’ he replied rolling back the chair and standing up. ‘I’m going for a slash first though.’
As he left the room I sagged down in my seat and let my head fall back, allowing my tiredness to close my eyes. I sat there, looking at gathering blackness as my mind cleared. Then, gradually, the picture in my imagination took on light and shade and colour and out of it, Jan’s face appeared. She was sitting where I sat now, and her head was turned sideways looking at me. Her laptop was switched on, and the screen was bright.
‘This is what I do,’ she said, ‘when I want to keep something important, so I can refer back without digging out my notes.’ She turned to the laptop. I watched her as she pulled down a list of menu items, and selected ‘Note Pad’, then began to type. I couldn’t see what she was writing, but I knew that didn’t matter.
It was only when my eyes snapped open and I found myself staring at the ceiling that I realised I had been asleep for a few moments, and dreaming. I shook my head, trying to remember that scene, the moment when Jan had shown me that computer short-cut, but I couldn’t. I was certain. . and I still am. . that it had never happened in life.
Nevertheless, I took the laptop out of its drawer and switched it on. Fortunately the battery was still on full charge. I felt a thrill of excitement as it booted up, as I pulled down the Menu Items and selected Note Pad.
The first small page was a list of birthdays. Mine, Mary’s, Jan’s dad’s, my dad’s, Jan’s Uncle Bob’s, Jan’s Aunt Betty, Jan’s Aunt Mima, Noosh Turkel, Ellie, Jonathan, Colin. I hit the icon in the corner to move on.
I shuddered as I looked at the page. For an instant I was frightened, very frightened, until in my mind’s eye, its waking eye this time, I saw Jan smiling. My fear vanished, replaced by a pure, adrenalin-pumping, rush of excitement.
There was a note on the page. ‘Pharmaceutical supplies anomaly. Temazepam and diamorphine. First five years; second five years.’
I was still staring at it when Dylan came back into the room. ‘Sorry I was so long,’ he said, casually. ‘I decided a Turkish Delight was called for. You ready to go, Oz? I could murder that curry now.’
‘Forget the curry, Mike,’ I murmured. ‘Look at this.’