Only Time Will Tell (The Clifton Chronicles, #1)(50)

‘If you still can’t find him, report back to me.’

‘It’ll be too late by then,’ said Tancock as he turned and walked off, his shoulders slumped.

‘I’ll be in my office should you need me, Haskins,’ I said, before walking down the gangway. I drove back to Barrington House, hoping never to see Tancock again.

I returned to my desk, but was unable to concentrate on the letters Miss Potts had left for me to sign. I could still hear that tapping in my head, repeating itself again and again, like a popular melody that plays continually in your mind and even stops you from sleeping. I knew that if Clifton didn’t report for work the next morning, I would never be rid of it.

During the next hour, I began to feel more confident that Tancock must have found his mate and would now be regretting making such a fool of himself.

It was one of the rare occasions when Miss Potts left the office before me, and I was just locking the top drawer of my desk before going home, when I heard footsteps running up the stairs. It could only be one man.

I looked up, and the man I’d hoped never to see again was standing in the doorway, pent-up fury blazing in his eyes.

‘You killed my best mate, you bastard,’ he said, shaking a fist. ‘You may as well have murdered him with your bare hands!’

‘Now, steady on, Tancock, old chap,’ I said. ‘For all we know, Clifton may still be alive.’

‘He’s gone to his grave just so you could finish your bloody job on time. No man will ever sail on that ship once they find out the truth.’

‘Men die in shipbuilding accidents every day,’ I said lamely.

Tancock took a pace towards me. He was so angry that for a moment I thought he was going to hit me, but he just stood there, feet apart, fists clenched, glaring at me. ‘When I’ve told the police what I know, you’ll have to admit you could’ve saved his life with a single word. But because you were only interested in how much money you would make, I’m going to make sure that no man on these docks will ever work for you again.’

I knew if the police did become involved, half of Bristol would think Clifton was still inside that hull and the union would demand it was opened up. If that happened, I wasn’t in any doubt what they’d find.

I rose slowly from my chair and walked across to the safe on the far side of the room. I entered the code, turned the key, pulled open the door and extracted a thick white envelope before returning to my desk. I picked up a silver letter opener, slit open the envelope and took out a five-pound note. I even wondered whether Tancock had ever seen one before. I placed it on the blotting pad in front of him and watched his piggy eyes grow larger by the second.

‘Nothing is going to bring back your friend,’ I said, placing a second note on top of the first. His eyes never left the money. ‘And anyway, who knows, he might just have done a bunk for a few days. That wouldn’t be considered unusual in his line of work.’ I placed a third note on top of the second. ‘And when he comes back, your mates will never let you forget it.’ A fourth note was followed by a fifth. ‘And you wouldn’t want to be charged with wasting the police’s time, would you? That’s a serious offence for which you can go to jail.’ Two more notes. ‘And of course you’d also lose your job.’ He looked up at me, his anger visibly turning to fear. Three more notes. ‘I could hardly be expected to employ a man who was accusing me of murder.’ I placed the last two notes on top of the pile. The envelope was empty.

Tancock turned away. I took out my wallet and added one more five-pound note, three pounds and ten shillings to the pile: ￡68 10s in all. His eyes returned to the notes. ‘There’s plenty more where that came from,’ I said, hoping I sounded convincing.

Tancock walked slowly towards my desk and, without looking at me, gathered up the notes, stuffed them into his pocket and left without a word.

I went to the window and watched as he walked out of the building and headed slowly for the dock gate.

I left the safe wide open, scattered some of its contents on the floor, dropped the empty envelope on my desk and left my office without locking up. I was the last person to leave the building.





21


‘DETECTIVE INSPECTOR BLAKEMORE, sir,’ said Miss Potts, then stood aside to allow the policeman to enter the managing director’s office.

Hugo Barrington studied the inspector carefully as he entered the room. He couldn’t have been much more than the regulation minimum height of five feet nine inches, and he was a few pounds overweight, but still looked fit. He was carrying a raincoat that had probably been bought when he was still a constable, and wore a brown felt hat of a more recent vintage, indicating that he hadn’t been an inspector all that long.

The two men shook hands, and once he was seated, Blakemore took a notebook and pen out of an inside jacket pocket. ‘As you know, sir, I am following up enquiries concerning an alleged theft that took place on these premises last night.’ Barrington didn’t like the word ‘alleged’. ‘Could I begin by asking when you first discovered that the money was missing?’

‘Yes, of course, inspector,’ said Barrington, trying to sound as helpful as possible. ‘I arrived at the docks around seven o’clock this morning and drove straight to the sheds to check how the night shift had got on.’