“No!” Arthur shouted. “I mean, please feel free to take the call. It might be important.”
The PI shrugged but then pressed answer and the music abruptly stopped. “Hello, Pierce Security.”
The room fell silent as the person on the other end of the line spoke and Arthur found he was holding his breath.
“Calm down, please, and say that again. You think someone has done what?”
Arthur could make out the sound of a voice on the phone but not what they were saying.
“Hang on a second.” Graham moved the phone away from his ear and turned to Arthur and Ash. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, do you mind if I take this call in private?”
“Go ahead,” Arthur said.
Graham looked between the two of them, clearly waiting for them to leave his office.
“Oh, you want us to go out?” Arthur began to push himself up from his chair, making grunting and groaning sounds.
“Here, let me help you, Grandpa,” Ash said, jumping to his side.
Graham was watching them impatiently.
“Be careful. Take it slowly so you don’t hurt yourself,” Ash said, as Arthur puffed and panted.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take this outside,” Graham said, and he stood up and strode toward the office door. “Sorry, madam, please start that again,” he said as he stepped out.
A moment later, Arthur heard the office door click shut. Immediately, he jumped to his feet as Ash rushed round to the far side of the desk.
“Yes, he left his computer unlocked!” the teenager said.
Arthur started to shuffle through the mess on the desk, grabbing pieces of paper at random. Most of it seemed to be old receipts and bills. Giving up on the desk, he moved to the shelves on the back wall, running his eyes along the files, looking for Cynthia Watkins’s name. Like with the desk, there seemed to be no obvious order or system here, with some files labeled by date and others by name.
“Anything on the computer?”
“I’ve searched his e-mail and there’s nothing coming up with Cynthia Watkins’s name,” Ash said. “I’m doing a search of the files now.”
“This is chaos, it’s like looking for a needle in a bleedin’ haystack,” Arthur said, turning from the shelves in dismay.
“Try these drawers,” Ash said, nodding to the desk without taking his eyes off the screen.
Arthur pulled the first one open to be confronted by a mass of discarded KitKat Chunky wrappers.
“This man needs a better diet, or he’ll die of a heart attack.” He tried to open the drawer underneath, but it was locked. He was about to start looking for a key when he heard a gasp from Ash.
“I’ve found something!” the boy said. “There’s a folder with Michael’s name on it.”
“Blimey, Phyllis was right!” Arthur hissed.
Ash reached into his pocket and pulled out a memory stick, then bent down to slot it into the computer.
“I’m not sure I’m the best person to help you.” Graham’s voice floated in through the door. “Perhaps you’d have better luck with the police.”
“Quick, it sounds like he’s finishing up.”
“I’m trying!” Ash’s feet were tapping urgently on the floor. “It’s copying now.”
“Madam, this really isn’t my line of business. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
Arthur gave up on the locked drawer and hurried back round to the other side of the desk. “Ash, you have to come now!”
