CHAPTER FIVE
Friday allowed very little opportunity to investigate the mystery surrounding Nigel Stewart. There was just enough time for Winner to get the staff working on cut-back schedules and to leave a budget summary on Westerman's desk for him to see on Monday morning, before the summons came from the executive suite. With Westerman away and Linda Price off sick, there was no-one else available to represent the Treasury at the promotional talk being given by the prospective superstore developers. Winner grabbed a budget book and a notepad and nipped up the stairs to the conference room. There were only a few seats left and it looked as if almost all the members had decided to attend, together with a good proportion of the Council's most highly paid staff. Winner felt a bit shabby in his two year old British Homestores suit.
The presentation went well enough for the prospective developers, though there was understandably some hostility from members with interests in the existing town centre. Others were more keen on the jobs that might be created. At the end Miles Cavendish, the chairman of the Planning and Development Committee, said a few words thanking the presenters. Winner got a definite feeling that Cavendish was pushing his fellow members to view the scheme favourably, leading him to speculate about what might be in it for Cavendish personally. Members were supposed to declare any interests, but you couldn't be sure. How honest was anybody these days? Winner thought guiltily about the cash tucked behind his hot water cylinder.
In the afternoon Freeman dropped into Winner's office to find out the budget figures.
"It's bad, Barry," Winner told him. "Just between you and me, I can't see how we're going to make it this time without some compulsory redundancies. Not unless Westerman's concealing some sort of rabbit in his hat. There aren't any people left who're the right age to go on a voluntary basis."
"You don't think we can cut the budget enough without cutting staff?"
"Not this time. Employment costs make up too big a share of the budget."
"I've already cut back by three in the last two years. Could you make a saving by cutting out Nigel Stewart's post and spreading the work around?"
"Oh, come off it Barry. The work's not being done properly as it is." Winner didn't think it was a good time to mention the possibility of transferring Sally Travis.
"That's true enough," said Freeman. "It worries me how far standards have slipped through lack of staff. It won't stop them from blaming me if some fraudster legs it with a suitcase full of cash. How many people understand the computer systems these days? Someone could be dipping their fingers into the coffers right now. How soon would we find out?"
Winner inspected his fingernails. "It's all very worrying," he agreed.
"Oh, by the way," said Freeman. "The funeral's next Tuesday at three. St John's church. I'm assuming for the moment that Westerman will allow any staff the time off if they want to go."
For a moment Winner thought of mentioning the report that didn't add up, but something stopped him. It might turn out to be a trivial error. No point in blowing it up out of all proportion until he'd had a chance to check it out for himself.
Freeman got up to leave.
"If you're going out through the main office, Barry, could you ask Christine Tucker to pop in and see me?"
While he was waiting for his costing clerk to come into the office, he picked up the phone and dialled Pat Johnson's number. The personnel officer answered straight away.
"Hello, it's Dave Winner. Is there any chance of letting me have a dekko at Nigel Stewart's personal file if I pop up in a few minutes?"
"Why do you want to do that?" she asked.
Winner chose his words carefully, knowing how secretive the Personnel Section liked to be with their precious files. "You know, it's rather embarrassing, but it looks as though I might be asked to say a few words at the funeral and to be honest I can't even remember the names of his children. A little personal background would help."
There was a slight pause. Winner kept his fingers tightly crossed.
"I suppose that's fair enough, but you'll have to look through the file in here. I can't let you take it away. The Chief Executive wants a copy himself by the end of the day."
"What would Forbes want it for?" Winner asked, trying to sound conversational.
"Same as you, I suppose. Funny thing was, I had Councillor Cavendish on the phone wanting to look at the same file, but I told him to speak to the Chief."
"I'll be up in a short while, then," he said, not wishing to sound overly curious, but who could say what snippets of information might prove to be relevant?
Christine Tucker appeared in the doorway as he put down the phone. Winner waved her to a chair. She was the youngest in the office, just paid on the lowest clerical grade, but that didn't mean her work was unimportant. There was no room for passengers these days. She looked a bit nervous, probably because Winner only called her into his office very rarely. He hoped he wasn't turning into one of those prickly old types who frightened the junior staff.
"Don't panic," he said. "I just wanted to talk to you about some of the work that you did for Nigel. Just to get things straight in my mind. Can you tell me when you last reconciled the bank account against the accounting ledger?"
"It was last week."
"What would that be? Up to the end of November?"
"That's right."
"Did you have any problems getting it to balance?"
"Not this time. I did the time before and I had to ask Nigel to help me. He was the real expert. To be quite honest, I don't understand the systems well enough. I can't always tell what's wrong."
You and most of the others, thought Winner.
"Can you remember what the problem was last time?" he asked her.
"It was something to do with splitting the Direct Services Organisations off into separate ledgers. Nigel said I was taking the totals from the wrong places. I didn't really understand it, but it worked this time using the figures from the same place that he showed me."
"Well don't worry about it. I won't leave you to look after it on your own. I'll get one of the other accountants involved. Leave the file out on your desk when you go tonight. I might have a look at it for myself."
The clerk left and Winner started off for the Personnel Section office, a nineteen fifties addition to the rear of the Town Hall, perched awkwardly on steel stilts above the rear access road. On the way he thought about what Christine Tucker had said. The difficulties she had encountered in balancing the ledger might possibly have something to do with Councillor Avery's non-balancing report. Another odd fact worth remembering.
The door that led off the half-landing into the Personnel offices was wedged open, the three staff inside sitting at their desks in their overcoats, grateful for the small amount of heat that percolated in through from the stair well. Pat Johnson spotted him coming.
"Don't say anything," she said. "I've told them if the heating's not fixed tomorrow we're moving into the Chief Exec's office. Here's the file."
Winner took the manila folder, but instead of sitting at the vacant desk, he stood beside a waist high cupboard and opened the file on top of it, so that the staff in the office couldn't see which documents he was looking at. Within a few minutes he had jotted down all the facts he could extract, irrespective of whether they seemed relevant. It wasn't a lot to go on.
Back in his office, he slipped the notes into his briefcase, surprised to find it was twenty past five. Most of the staff had already gone and within a few minutes there was no-one left to see him pick up the balancing file and the Council's latest ledger print-out.