Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #4: Books 13-16 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (best ereader for academics .txt) 📕

We pulled up on the muddy gravel just outside that building and made our way at a slow run to the main door. A bell rang as we pushed in, hunched into our coats and closed the door behind us. There was a desk painted green with a smiling woman sitting behind it, watching us. And there was a man in a red v-neck jumper with a large, black moustache, leaning on the desk with his elbow, also watching us and smiling.

“Nice motor,” he said. “How can we help you?”

I showed him my badge. Before I could say anything, he said, “Aha, Detectives Stone and Dehan, of the 43rd. You’re here about our employees of 2016.” He held out his hand. “Geoff Blackstone. This is my wife, Kathleen. I am not sure how helpful we can be, detectives, we use a lot of casual and part time labor. It’s the nature of the business.”

Dehan said, “We are particularly interested in one employee. Anything you can tell us…”

“Come through to my office. Kath, make us some coffee, would you?”

“Of course, Mr. Blackstone!”

They both hooted with laughter and he led us through to a very basic office with one small window that overlooked the yard. He had a gray, steel desk with a black, imitation leather chair behind it and two blue chairs where he indicated Dehan and I should sit as he lowered himself into his vinyl throne.

“Who is the employee you are interested in, detectives?”

Dehan answered. “Samuel Reynolds.”

He thought for a moment, gazing at the ceiling. “Yes, I recall him. He worked for us on and off for a long time. Big man, strong, good worker. Very devout, as I recall. Sam, Sam Reynolds. He never had a long term contract, though we did offer one. I seem to remember he hoped to start up his own business. I can only imagine he was eventually successful, because he stopped coming to us and we have never seen him again.”

“But before 2016 he worked for you on a regular basis?”

“Yes, a few months on, a couple of months off…”

There was a knock at the door and Kathleen Blackstone came in with three cups of coffee on a tray. We thanked her and Geoff barked with mock severity, “That’ll be all, Miss Blackstone!” and they both roared again as she left the office.

Dehan’s mouth gave a thin smile while her eyes thought about something else. “Did Reynolds ever have a key to the premises, Mr. Blackstone?”

He frowned like the idea was absurd. “Good grief, no. He was just casual labor. A good worker, but he didn’t enjoy our trust.”

“Can you think of any way that he might have gained access to the premises in November of that year?”

He frowned at his desk top for a while, then bellowed, “Kathleen!”

She leaned in, smiling. “Yes, dear?”

“Remember the break in, couple of years ago?”

She nodded. “Mm-hm…”

“When was that?”

Her eyes seemed to scan the ceiling, as though she had an invisible calendar pinned up there. “That was the night of Sunday, 6th November. I remember because it happened on a Sunday, when we were not here, and it was the week Trump was elected.”

Dehan looked at me and her eyes were alight. Her face said, ‘This is it!’ Geoff was saying, “You are a marvel, Kathleen! Isn’t she extraordinary! It was an odd business, to be sure. We were having trouble with the alarm system. Basically, it was going off all the time, either because some bum wanted to sleep in the yard, a fox or a cat slipped through, or any number of other reasons. In the end, we decided to set alarms inside instead, where we stored the valuable gear, and simply have a solid padlock on the fence. We had, after all, never been broken into. This was back in 2014. We left the signs saying there was an alarm system, CCTV and dogs, but what we actually had was alarms on the office and on the warehouse, and CCTV on the inside of those buildings, where it might be of some use.

“Well, on November 6th, somebody cut through the chain, let themselves in, stole absolutely nothing and left without disturbing a damn thing. It was quite bizarre.”

I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees. “Mr. Blackstone, this is extremely important, is there any direct access to the river from this yard?”

He looked mildly astonished. “Why, yes! The boys loosened a couple of panels over in the corner, years ago, and made a kind of doorway out onto the river bank. It’s rather pleasant out there and they have an area set up for their lunch breaks and coffee breaks in summer and spring.” He laughed. “Management are not allowed, but I believe they actually have a refrigerator out there in hot weather. I am happy to let them enjoy it…”

“Could we see it, please?”

Now he looked worried. Kathleen was still at the door. She looked worried, too. He said, “Well, yes, of course, but I am sure they are not breaking any laws…are they?”

I shook my head. “No, please, just point us in the right direction and we’ll find our way.”

“It will be frightfully muddy at the moment.”

I smiled. “Will you show us where it is, please?”

He led us out of the office again, back to the front door, and pointed through the glass, across the muddy yard, to a section of the corrugated steel in the corner, about forty yards away. It was heavily overgrown with creepers and bramble, but I could just make out that one of the sheets did not fit snugly.

“You see the one that is protruding slightly? Well, if you tug on that, it leads out to a rather flat, grassy area which is a part of the river bank. The boys have