Proof - By Dick Francis Page 0,70

assistant until the following day. Paul Young said he would discuss with the police about a re-opening date, and run the place himself until the manager returned from holiday. After that, Head Office would appoint a replacement for poor Mr Trent. None of the staff saw anything odd in his manner or proposals. Very sensible, they thought him, considering how angry he was about the drinks. He then sent the kitchen staff home, telling them also to return when told. The waitress said Zarac arrived for work just as she was leaving, and Paul Young told him to go into Larry Trent’s office and wait for him.’

I was fascinated. ‘Did she remember exactly what they said to each other?’

Gerard smiled thinly. ‘She’s used to remembering orders. An excellent ear. She said they knew each other… Paul Young called him Zarac without being told.’

‘And the other way round?’

‘She said Paul Young said “I’m Paul Young” which she thought silly because Zarac looked as if he knew him perfectly well.’

‘Telling Zarac his alias.’

‘Exactly. The waitress said Paul Young looked very angry with Zarac, which she thought natural, and she thought Zarac was going to get a right ticking off, which she was sorry about because Zarac was all right with the waitresses and kept his hands to himself, unlike some others she could mention.’

I appreciated the verbatim reporting. ‘And who were those?’

‘The manager, mostly.’

‘Not Larry Trent?’

‘No. Always the perfect gent, she said,’ He paused. ‘She said the police sergeant had been round before me, asking the same questions. She said he asked her about Paul Young’s car.’

I was amused. ‘What else did she say?’

‘She said it was a Rolls.’

‘Really?’

‘Her exact words were “a black Roller with them tinted windows.” She said it had to be Paul Young’s because it was in the staff car park and it didn’t belong to the regular staff, and it hadn’t been there when she came to work an hour earlier.’

‘Observant girl.’

Gerard nodded. ‘I went to the wet assistant’s home after I left the waitress and asked him mostly the same questions. He said he didn’t know what car Paul Young had come in. He couldn’t even describe Paul Young. Useless.’

‘And the barman hoofed it.’ I relayed Ridger’s half-hearted search. ‘I guess he knew he wasn’t selling the right stuff, but you wouldn’t get him to admit it, even if you found him.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘So now we come to supposition… where are we? five?… supposition five: that Paul Young and Zarac spent the afternoon deciding what to do and organising the removal of all the wines and spirits to look like burglary.’

‘It would have taken them hours if they did it themselves.’

‘And they would have needed a van.’

‘Large,’ I said, nodding. ‘There were dozens of cases.’

He put his head on one side. ‘They had all day and all night, I suppose.’

‘Do we know when Zarac actually died?’ I asked.

Gerard shook his head. ‘There was an opening inquest last Friday, adjourned for a week. The police aren’t giving out much publicity on Zarac, but I’ve found a friend behind the forensic scenes and I’ll hear everything the police know about times and so on by this Friday.’

‘He suffocated…’ I said with revulsion.

‘It bothers you?’

‘Like bricking up someone alive.’

‘Much quicker,’ he said prosaically. ‘Supposition six: Paul Young and Zarac weren’t the greatest of buddy-buddies.’

‘A fair conclusion,’ I said dryly.

‘Supposition seven: Zarac was in some way a terrible threat to Paul Young.’

‘Who solved the problem permanently.’

‘Mm,’ he reflected. ‘So far, that seems reasonable. Any questions?’

‘Yes… How did Paul Young Happen to have plaster of Paris bandage with him on what he expected to be simply an organisational outing?’

‘You mean it might be significant?’

‘Something to add to what we know of him, anyway.’

‘And why use it? Why not smash in his head?’

‘Well, why?’ I said.

‘A warning to others, perhaps. Or genuine psychosis. Very nasty, in any case.’ He drank some brandy. A brain alive above a flagging body. ‘Our Mr Young is a middle-aged businessmen with a hearing aid, a black Rolls and a reason for carrying plaster of Paris. Pity we can’t, as they say, run that lot through the computer.’

‘Any self-respecting computer would come up with a consultant surgeon, ear, nose and throat.’

Gerard was startled. ‘You don’t suppose…? No, most unlikely.’

‘Computers only spit out what you feed in.’

‘Whereas you can feed countless facts into a human being and get no connections at all.’ He sighed resignedly. ‘All right, then. Work arising. Find out if Larry Trent had a