Chapter 15
The following morning, as soon as the last member of his staff had come through the door of Montague and Son, Montague called everyone into his office and explained his current thinking regarding the Halstead file.
“So,” he concluded, “we need to ascertain if any documents are missing, and if none are, we’ll need to cross-check everything to determine if there’s some other irregularity.”
“But there has to be, doesn’t there?” Gibbons said from the chair beside Montague’s desk.
“If, as you say, Runcorn was murdered because of something to do with the accounts, then somewhere buried in all of that”—Gibbons nodded at the three large piles of documents sitting on Montague’s desk, the accumulated financial records of the Halsteads—“there must be some trace, some clue. No matter if the murderer did attempt to remove the evidence, no matter how thorough he thought he was, unless he was a man-of-business, too, he would have overlooked something.”
Phillip Foster nodded. “Quite a challenge, even for one of us, to eradicate all sign, all the footprints of any particular transaction.” Raising his gaze from the piles of documents, he met Montague’s. “So where are we at present with our searching?”
Montague glanced at Pringle.
Pringle grimaced self-deprecatingly. “I’m still less than halfway through reassembling the main file. I’ve been working backward, but thus far I haven’t found any document that’s missing.”
Slocum looked at Montague. “So where would you like us to start, sir?”
Montague considered, then said, “Let’s see what we can accomplish today.
I need you and Foster to take on as much of our scheduled work as possible.
Gibbons and I will need to attend any meetings we have scheduled, but beyond that .
. .” Montague considered the stack of papers, then said, “Pringle can continue reassembling the file, searching for any missing document, working backward. Mr. Slater?”
Montague’s junior clerk straightened, his expression eager. “Yes, sir?”
“You will watch Mr. Pringle until you have the knack of what he is doing, how his numbering system works, then, under Mr. Slocum’s oversight, in the time in which he doesn’t require your services, you will commence reassembling the file, but working from the earliest documents forward.
” Montague looked at Slocum and Pringle.
“At this point, we have no notion of when in the timeline of the Halstead documents the vital clue resides, so by having Slater work through the documents from the other end, as it were, we should double our chances of discovering if any documents are missing, and subsequently which documents they are.”
Slocum, Pringle, and Slater all nodded.
Montague glanced at Foster. “Your first task, along with Slocum, is to keep the office functioning as usual, servicing all our other clients.”
Foster grinned and saluted.
“If you have any time left over after that, you can help Gibbons compile a complete listing of the Halsteads’ investments, past as well as present.
” Montague glanced at Gibbons. “Fred, you’ll have to work with the file as Pringle reassembles it, and also with the earlier documents as Slater gets those in order. ”
Gibbons nodded. “How detailed a list?”
“Everything you stumble on, regardless of whether it paid a dividend, was sold at a profit or a loss, or was simply held and forgotten about. Cross-check with the bank accounts, all of them.” Montague paused, then added, “Given there’s nothing obvious about this—given we have no idea what particular investment or even type of investment, or style of fund or instrument, was of interest to our murderer—then we have to cover absolutely everything.
Something that may appear minor and of no real account to us might, for reasons we do not know, be of vital importance to him. ”
“Right then.” Gibbons rose. “I’d better get started.”
“So what angle will you be tackling, sir?” Foster asked as he straightened away from the bookshelf he’d been leaning against.
Montague hid a wry smile; Phillip Foster was keen and eager to learn, something Montague was happy to encourage.
“I’m going to work my way through the copies of the documents Runcorn had Pringle make for me.
Those copied documents should at least touch on all the active sources of income to the Halstead estate.
” He paused, then explained, “What I identify through income and expenditure should reconcile with what Gibbons and you put together. If we come up with any anomaly, then we’ll be on to something.
But it’s possible we’ll end with a complete match, in which case, it’ll come down to whether Pringle and Slater find something missing.
Essentially, I will be working on the money itself, while you and Gibbons identify the sources, and Slocum, Pringle, and Slater will analyze the documentary records.
Somewhere in all that, there has to be something missing. ”
“Indeed.” With a nod, Gibbons led the way out.
Slocum, Pringle, and Slater gathered the three large piles of documents in their arms and carried them back out into the main office.
Leaving Montague considering the smaller pile thus revealed—the copies Runcorn had had Pringle make for him. That pile might have been smaller than the others; regardless, combing through it wouldn’t be any small task, especially as he had no idea what he might be looking for.
Glancing at his appointment book, he confirmed he had a morning meeting with the Earl of Meredith, who was currently in town. As the earl spent most of his time at his estate in Somerset, that wasn’t an appointment that could easily be rescheduled.
Montague glanced at the pile of documents on his desk, then, with an inward sigh, rose, lifted his hat from the hat stand, plucked the current Meredith file from his shelves—he’d already reviewed it—and headed for the door.
He returned two hours later, unexpectedly more enthused.
Hanging up his hat, then replacing the Meredith file—there had been no surprises there—he returned to his desk.
Looking down at the Halstead papers, he went over the plan of attack that had popped into his head as he’d traveled back from Mayfair.
The approach was sound. Reaching for the pile, he set it squarely on his blotter, pulled up his chair, sat, and proceeded to sort the documents.
Distantly, he heard the main door to the offices open. An instant later, Slocum said, “Good morning, Miss Matcham. Can I help you?”
Before he’d even thought, Montague was on his feet and striding to the door, propelled by a species of fizzy emotion he’d never felt before. To his rational mind’s surprise, he rather liked the feeling. Passing into the outer office, he saw Violet smiling at Slocum.
As he crossed the room, she turned to him and her smile changed—to something warmer, more personal. More for him.
“Miss Matcham. Violet.” He took the hand she extended, held it. His gaze searched her face; from the calmness investing her features, he knew there was nothing wrong. “Has there been some development?”
“No.” A faint frown swam through her fine eyes.
“And that’s why I’m here.” She glanced around the office, at the evidence of their industry.
“Stokes and Barnaby are off checking the men’s alibis, and Penelope and Griselda are doing the same with the ladies—we thought it wise to be complete.
But”—she raised her hands, palms up—“that left me with nothing to do, no way to contribute.” She brought her gaze back to his face.
“So I thought I would come here and see whether there’s anything I can do to help you with your researches.
” She paused, then, head rising a trifle, said, “I’ve acted as a secretary for all my adult life, so I am good at reading and organizing documents. ”
Montague immediately saw opportunity and moved to seize it.
“As it happens”—he waved at the rest of the office, at all his staff, most of whom had glanced up to exchange a smile with her—“I have all these others working in teams, tackling the problem from different angles. I’ve just returned from a meeting and was about to start on my own pile of documents.
” When her gaze returned to his face, he met her eyes.
“I was going to handle it on my own, but coming back just now I realized there are two separate aspects, two different arms that I need to concurrently investigate—you could help me with one of those if you like?”
Her smile blossomed into delight, and she inclined her head. “I would be happy to assist.”
Ignoring the interested, faintly intrigued, looks from his staff, reining in his own smile as best he could, he ushered Violet into his office.
After helping her remove her coat and hanging her bonnet opposite his hat on the hat stand, he settled her in a chair on the client side of his desk and cleared a space on its surface for her.
“Right, then.” Rounding the desk, he opened a drawer and retrieved several sheets of paper, as well as a handful of the sharpened pencils Slocum made sure were always there.
Dividing the supplies between Violet’s impromptu blotter and his own, he sat in his chair and faced the Halstead papers anew.
Then he looked at Violet, met her encouraging gaze.
“These documents are the copies Runcorn sent me. They should contain information on all the dealings required to generate a comprehensive review of the Halstead estate—the financial side of it, certainly. What we—you and I—need to do is list every item of income and every item of expenditure, and link each to a specific source. Gibbons out there, aided by Foster, is combing through the original documents and making a list of all the investments—the sources.”
“So Gibbons’s list and ours should match?” Violet asked.
“Exactly.”