Dead and Buried

SEVENTEEN

In the lobby of the City Centre, behind a desk and in uniform sat a security guard making an attempt to look like he was keeping track of comings and goings after the day people had signed out. I picked up the pad from his desk and put my name down and added the time. It was just ten after five. As I did this, I noticed that both Forbes and Caine were still on the premises.

“You’re Boris Jurik, aren’t you?” I asked the guard. He blinked back to being semi-alert.

“Yeah, that’s right.” He checked the book to see who was asking.

“My name’s Cooperman. I’m in the way of being in the same line of work myself. Howard Dover, your boss, and I go back a long way together. He’s been talking to me about you.”

“No kidding?” I got a peek at some complicated dental work under his sparse moustache. “Are you into corporate security?” he asked. I smiled at the term.

“No, I do private investigations. Undercover, surveillance, that sort of thing.”

“Are you looking for a man?” So much for employee loyalty.

“Always on the lookout for the right man,” I said. I shot him a confidential glance and added: “Somebody who knows his way around.” Boris hitched his belt a little higher on his hips. “Things seem pretty secure around here,” I said. “Any problems.”

“This job? Naw. Nothin’ to it.”

“I’m a little concerned about the storage room downstairs. How secure are you down there?” Boris’s face emptied. I had obviously hit upon someplace he hadn’t even been told to worry about.

“We’ve had no trouble down there,” he said evasively: I smiled at his answer and let it sink in.

“That’s just the problem, isn’t it? Your average security man wouldn’t even check down there. But I’m sure that a guard of your calibre, who’s been with Dover for the last year and half-”

“Almost coming up to a year and three quarters.”

“There you are! Practically two years!”

“Is there something not right down there, security-wise, Mr. Cooperman? I want to get on top of it if there’s a loophole somewhere.”

“Well, as a favour to you, I’ll duke down there and have a fast look and let you know. Might be just a little thing. I’ll let you pass the word on to Phidias yourself, so they’ll know you’re on your toes.”

“Gee, that’s great!”

“Oh, I’m going to need your keys,” I said as an afterthought. He handed them over like they were cut glass. “Have ’em back to you in a few minutes.”

“Take your time. And thanks for doing this, like they say on TV.”

I took the elevator down to the place marked “B” on the floor selector. Part of the area was given over to underground parking. The rest was deeply involved with storage. I opened the door marked “Phidias” with one of the keys on the ring, and stepped inside. It was a long narrow room with green metal shelf units up and down the middle of the space and along each wall. At first my heart sank. I’d never get through to the things I needed. But right from the first cardboard box I looked at, my heart grew a bit lighter. Each box was clearly labelled as to date and company of origin. First of all I checked the Kinross section. There were columns of boxes which I quickly dug into. I was looking for paper having to do with the date of the accident and immediately afterwards. It took longer than I thought to find anything. Why is it that I grow thumbs on all my fingers when I need the skill of a brain surgeon?

Then I had something. It was the dispatcher’s list of business in and out of the Kinross yard on the day Jack Dowden died. I pulled it from the rest of the pack of similar reports and put it in my pocket. Then I found the personnel records for the same time period. Whoever kept these records kept them very well. I followed down the list of names looking for the familiar ones. There was Jack Dowden’s name leaping off the page. There were the amounts paid to his widow that she’d told me about. Further down the page I saw that O’Mara, Tadeuss Puisans and Luigi Pegoraro were given bonuses. Their hourly rate was increased until, in Puisans’s and Pegoraro’s cases, they left the firm, both with parting bonuses as well as a handshake. I thought I was all finished, when I saw an extra bonus, this time to Rory O’Mara for hockey camp. So that’s what he practised. I’d been wondering about the black-clad lout in O’Mara’s living-room.

I helped myself to the pages concerned and stuffed them with my other papers into the files in my briefcase. After closing the boxes, I hefted them back to the shelves upon which they were allocated to spend eternity and dusted myself off. Back upstairs, I told Boris that he should suggest a steel door be added to the arrangements in the basement. “It’s too easy to get in there from the parking garage.” He nodded vigorously, having had the same notion himself, I’m sure on many occasions. “I could put this in my report,” I said, “but it would look even better coming from you, Boris.” Boris showed me his metallic smile again. “I’ll leave our little conversation out of my report completely, so the whole idea will come from you. You’ll get credit for the whole deal.”

“Gosh, Mr. Cooperman, I don’t know how to thank you.” I flipped him back his keys, which he caught over his right shoulder.