Trader Jack -The Story of Jack Miner (The Story of Jack Miner Series) Read Online Free

bits and pieces. Baton followed me into Bill's bedroom and he quickly examined the dressing table and a cupboard.
    'Did your father make a will?'
    'Dunno. He used to put all his papers in this,' I said, pulling them out from the dressing table and piling them on top.
    Baton tried to ignore the mess on the bed, the banana skin on the floor and Jazz's dirty dish next to his basket. He shook his head in disgust.
    'Well? Anything more?'
    I went to the cupboard and clutched the box file of the shop's invoices, expenses and bookkeeper's accounts. Baton double-checked to see that nothing was left. He found a small leather case and a bag with some more papers.
    'Where's the computer?'
    'In my room.'
    He followed me there. My small second-hand laptop was on my unmade bed; the printer on a table.
    He examined it with a sneer: 'Isn't this obsolete. Do you manage to connect to the Internet?'
    'Use it for school. Not for broadband. Get that at Internet café,' I said biting my lip.
    'Where do you go to school?' he asked peering down at me. 'Done your GCSEs? Do you think you'll pass?'
    'Bridlington. Yes, I think I've done OK.'
    I was getting irritated with this idiot. I felt like punching him on the nose, but he was the type who would call the police.
    'Are your father's records on it? Emails?'
    'Some stuff about the shop.'
    'His mobile?'
    'Can't find it. Must have got lost when the ambulance took him to hospital.'
    'Any investments?'
    'Don't think so. Don't think he had any. Never spoke about it.'
    'Where can I work?' he said huffily.
    We went into the kitchen and I cleared the table and wiped his chair. He waited impatiently as I went to get the laptop, files and papers. I dumped the papers on to the table in a messy pile. Baton flushed.
    He took a laptop out of his bag, pushed some papers aside to give him some working space, sat down and began to work. I connected the laptop to the power as he began to sort out the papers. I was tempted to blow a fuse and crash his computer. But he watched me suspiciously and was soon itemising an inventory of junk.
    I grabbed a broom, a pan and some black bags and went into the living room to clean up the place. After about three hours or so, Baton came into the living room with the envelope that Mrs Derby had given me.
    'What's this?'
    'Dunno, I haven't read it yet.'
    'It could be the will. Could you open it please.'
    I glanced at the letter: 'Doesn't seem to be a will.'
    'Can I see it?'
    'It's personal.'
    'I must read it.'
    Losing his patience he snatched it from me and read it quickly. For some reason, which I couldn't understand, he went into Bill's room and directly to Jazz's basket in the corner. He took the cushion out and picked it up, examined it carefully and placed the basket back in the corner. I put back the cushion and looked at him puzzled. For the first time, he was embarrassed. He even softened a bit.
    'My apologies . . . Sorry . . . I had to read the letter . . . It's my job, you see.'
    I put the letter in my back pocket and turned away. I didn't want to show him that I was upset.
    'Can I have the key of the shop?'
    It was hanging on a hook behind the kitchen door and I handed it to him.
    'The shop's downstairs, almost directly below the flat. That's why we moved here,' I said. 'The equipment is still in good condition.'
    'Doubt if it's worth much. We'll see when we sell the business.'
    He half mumbled to himself, but in a spiteful way, making sure that I could hear: 'Doubt if the creditors will get 5 pence in the pound.'
    Baton put the papers that he needed in his briefcase, took the box file and my computer.
    'I'm sorry, I'll have to take this; I'll return it as soon as possible.'
    'But that's got all my personal stuff on it; my addresses, my emails.'
    'Sorry we have to do a proper search.'
    He gave me the small leather case and shook my hand: 'I think you'll want this.'
    At last he was gone. I continued to clean up the flat and filled lots of large black bags. After making my bed,