David Trevellyan 03 -More Harm Than Good Read Online Free Page B

passed me, as if
she was afraid I’d pass on some revolting disease.
            “Found it,” she said,
handing the manila file she’d been carrying to the man
behind the desk. I could see a logo on the front - the words Human Resources
formed into a circle around the hospital crest - but not anyone’s name.
            “Sebastian had it?” he
said.
            “He did,” she said.
“Just as we thought. He was off-site today, but I had to wait for his assistant
- that useless Julie - to nip out to Starbucks.”
            “They both denied having
seen it. Idiots.”
            “They always do.”
            “It was in his bottom
drawer?”
            “Where else? And look,”
she said, pointing to a coffee stain on the folder’s tattered front cover. “See
the state it’s in? It wasn’t like that when we sent it back to them, last
time.”
            “Well, that’s the least of
our worries,” he said. “Good work, finding it. And Mags ?
Keep your ears open. Any more complaints about you-know-who - any incidents at all, however small - I want to
know.”
            The woman started back
towards the door, but stopped after one step.
            “Your visitor,” she
said. “He doesn’t have an appointment. Is he...? Or do you want me to...?”
            “What do you think?” the
man said, turning back to me. “Are you...?”
            “Don’t worry,” I said,
after a moment. “You clearly have bigger problems than me. Lost files. Coffee
stains. The stuff nightmares are made of. I’ll be getting out of your hair now. So to speak. And I’ll find someone else to help me.”
            “Good idea,” the man
said. “Best of luck with that.”
            “I think I’ll start with
the police. I’m sure they’ll be much more interested.”
            I wasn’t even half way
out of my chair before the man spoke again.
            “Wait,” he said. “You’re
calling the police? Here? To the hospital? Why? What’s
the problem?”
            I lowered myself back
down and met his gaze, but I didn’t reply.
            “Look, maybe we got off
on the wrong foot,” he said after a few seconds, then flashed me a sickly
smile. “Why don’t we start this conversation all over again? If there’s a
problem, I’d be more than happy to help. That’s what I’m here for, at the end
of the day. There’s no need to go calling anyone else. So,
please. Tell me what’s wrong.”
            I didn’t answer. His
change of heart wasn’t fooling anyone. I was inclined to just walk out and let
him believe I was following through with the police. The local plod was
unlikely to spring into action over a pair of stolen boots, obviously, but the
prospect of a horde of uniforms descending on the place seemed to have got him
pretty rattled. In another second I’d have been heading for the exit, but then
my eyes were drawn to the poster above the man’s head. It showed a huge shark
about to snap up a tiny minnow, with the caption, “AMBITION - If you can’t swim
with the big fish, stay out of the water.”
            “Can we at least start
with your name?” he said.
            I decided to stay. Partly to give him the chance to atone for the posters. But
mainly because old habits die hard . I wanted to see
why he was so worried about the police.
            “David Trevellyan ,” I said, after a moment, and went on to explain
the problem with the missing Grensons . He listened
carefully, without interrupting, and looked increasingly confident as I went
along.
            “OK,” he said, when I’d
finished. “No worries. I have people who can take care of this for you, quite
easily. Mags , could you get Stan on the phone for me,
please?”
            “Um, Mr Leckie is out of the office today,” she said. “A very
urgent family situation unexpectedly cropped up,