Ghost Writer Page 2

  “Do you think Bryan or Mc Murtee was embezzling?” Susannah asked with her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

  I shrugged, but it was a possibility. “How did the workers get on with Bryan?”

  “I’ve only met a few of them. Clarrie is the only one who ever speaks to me.”

  “Do you think he would know where Bryan went?”

  “No. He called and asked me. I wish I knew where he was. At least if he was dead I could sell the business and be done with it.”

  “Selling or closing the business won’t get you out of the mess,” I reminded her.” You need to find out why one of your instruments passed the quality control process and still be faulty.”

  “Bryan did the quality control work. He religiously follows the testing procedure that Dad started…”

  “When was the accident?” I asked suddenly.

  “Three months ago,” Susannah told me and I shivered. “And Bryan went off soon after.”

  “I don’t know if he went because he felt responsible – but if he was, you shouldn’t have to wear the blame.”

  Susannah sighed.

  “You know what, Susannah?” I asked to get her attention back. “I’m a contrary sort of girl. I tend to do things because people say I shouldn’t. Father taught me about his business, but he never let me try his lessons on my own. So I went out and learnt to fly – got my licence and all. I reckon this is your chance to fly. I could help you a bit.”

  “What does your father do?”

  “He doesn’t make instruments! However, that doesn’t matter. I know the principles of business. You can help me with the specifics.”

  “You’re full of surprises, Edwina,” Susannah said with a soft laugh. She had begun to swing gently too. “What do you suggest? I won’t be offended by your advice.”

  “Well,” I began, then paused to organise my thoughts. “I’d start by looking around the factory. I’d talk to the people about their jobs – what they do. Then I’d read the procedure manuals, productivity reports, annual reports – that sort of thing. I’d find out the status of all orders and service appointments. The most important thing would be to find all records relating to that warrant matter.”

  “Then what?”

  “Something might occur to you.” I began to swing higher and Susannah copied me.

  “Would you come to tea with me tonight?” Susannah invited.

  “Ah – I had plans,” I said.

  “Another time then,” Susannah promised. “I’ll be at the factory at 7.30am tomorrow. Is that too early for you?”

  I shook my head. Susannah slowed her swing to a halt. “You know where it is?”

  “I’ll be there,” was all I said. I continued to swing as I watched my new friend walk back home – full of hope.

  Susannah was dressed for the part - a fawn coloured business suit of skirt and jacket, with a white turtleneck jumper under the jacket. Her shoes matched the suit and a tidy brown briefcase completed the look.

  I had upgraded my appearance too, but I only intended Susannah to notice me.

  We had an hour before the workers would arrive and a lot to do. First, we went to Mc Murtee’s office. His desk had been cleared of all personal stuff – but the business matters were there – neatly piled. We gathered them up.

  Then we went to the Director’s office – Bryan’s domain. The room was a mess. Untidy piles of correspondence, bills, invoices and catalogues lay on his desk. The filing cabinets were partly open and files had been shoved back in roughly.

  “Bryan’s work?” I asked with an arched brow.

  “No. Bryan is a sticker for keeping things as they were. Dad kept the place tidy, so Bryan did too.”

  “Someone searching for something,” was my next suggestion.

  “Who knows?” Susannah shrugged. “How would I know if something was missing?”

  “True. Let’s tidy up. I’ll take the file cupboard – you do the desk.”

  Susannah began picking up odd items from the desk and said thoughtfully, “Bryan always said cleaning was woman’s work.”

  I said nothing. I always thought it was the servants’ work. I looked at the files. The files were not just out of order; the contents were just thrown in anyhow. I found specification sheets in with invoices and bank statements in with other correspondence.

  “The company makes meters?” I asked as I scanned spec sheets.

  “Instruments,” Susannah corrected. She passed a catalogue across to me. “Our speciality is aero-instruments but some can be used in cars and boats too. We also service instruments, maintain them, calibrate them and issue certifications of accuracy.”

  “Do all instruments look the same?”

  “Most of the ones made by other companies are square or round. Ours are hexagonal.”

  “I’ve seen these before,” I said, trying to recall where. “Aero-instruments. I must have seen them in my plane.”

  An hour later, it was time to let the employees in. We were not much wiser – but the office was tidy.

  The men were standing around outside, talking in small groups. Many were smoking, but all kept glancing at the door. Susannah took a deep breath and opened it. Her presence caused all conversations to cease. She didn’t need to raise her voice to be heard.

  “Gentlemen, I need to talk to all of you, so if you would wait in the staff room, I will join to you there.”

  Susannah stepped back out of the way and returned to Bryan’s office.

  “They know something is up,” she told me.

  “Naturally,” I said calmly. “How often are they greeted by such a beautiful decoration?”

  Susannah knew I was teasing her.

  “What will I tell them?”

  “For now – just that Mc Murtee is gone. Don’t mention the other matter until we’ve looked at it a bit more.”

  “Business as usual, huh?”

  I shrugged one shoulder. You’ll have to talk to the senior staff after that. No need to mention me, I’ll just be taking notes.”

  I studied the men’s faces as Susannah spoke. They seemed relieved when she explained that Mc Murtee had left for personal reasons. It made me wonder what rumours were going around.

  Within moments of returning to Bryan’s office we had our first visitor. I saw an old man, still stocky and solid, with grey hair thinning on top of his head.

  “Clarrie,” Susannah greeted. “I wanted to talk to you. You’ve been around since before Bryan took over – there are things I need to know.”

  “Any help I can give, Suze,” Clarrie offered immediately. “Any news of Bryan?”

  “Nothing new. How did he seem the day he disappeared?”

  “Pretty normal. He was a little worried because the number of orders had dropped off. The Kittering order helped. That’s the biggest order that we’ve had for years. John organised that.”

  I lost the plot then. Kittering – that was my surname. I realised then, that this company had been responsible for installing the new instruments in my plane. Small world.

  I started paying attention again as Susannah was explaining about the charge of negligence against the company.

  “No way, Girl!” Clarrie argued. “Young Bryan would never let a faulty unit leave here.”

  “Clarrie – it happened. The Kittering plane crashed. I remember reading about it. I can’t remember when though,” Susannah replied.

  “March 31st,” I supplied. I couldn’t forget that day.

  Susannah looked at me, her chin resting on her hand, her elbow on the desk.

  “What happens to faulty instruments,” I asked.

  When Clarrie didn’t answer me, Susannah repeated the question.

  “Bryan fills out a form detailing the faults, and then disassembles them. We reuse the casings, not the rest. The ones that pass are number stamped and certified.”

  Susannah and Clarrie continued to speak. I leant back against the wall, making notes about anything that seemed important. Finally, Susan
nah let Clarrie go, after agreeing to his offer to take her around the factory.

  “I’ll start looking for any paperwork on that sale,” I offered. Susannah nodded.

  The second of the section heads arrived when I had barely begun to search. He knocked and had entered before Susannah finished inviting him in. When she looked up, he was sitting straddled on the chair, looking at her over its back.

  It didn’t take much to figure this was Prosser – the chief storeman. We had found a list of employees during our tidy up.

  “We’re well rid of that twerp Mc Murtee. He wouldn’t authorise anything without the boss’s say so. Nothing has been ordered for months – we will be out of parts for instruments in days. You have to send the orders off now!”

  The man’s whole manner was annoying. It was as if he thought he had the right to order Susannah around and she should be glad to be told what to do.

  “Speak to him from behind,” I suggested quietly.

  Susannah took my advice. She moved casually as if pacing and thinking. When she spoke, Prosser had to swivel around. He no longer looked comfortable.

  “Tell me how many completed instruments are in stock,” Susannah asked.

  Prosser knew his job. He rattled off the types of instruments and the number he had. He also knew what parts and supplies were critically low.

  “What happens if you get an order and the parts are not in stock?” Susannah asked. “Like with that big order four months back?”

  “We had most of it. I had to request a flow meter and an altimeter to be made up,” Prosser told her. “It took two or three days by the time it was made up and checked.”

  “Do you log the serial numbers of the instruments against each order,” was Susannah’s next question.

  “Of course I do, Missy,” Prosser sounded exasperated. “Now you see that those orders go out!” He stood up and stared at Susannah, and she stared back.

  “I will handle things Mr Prosser,” she told him coolly, and continued to stare at him as he backed out the door.

  “He’d never try that on Bryan,” Susannah muttered when the door had closed.

  “There’s no rush if you have to stop production,” I commented.

  “True, the orders can wait.”

  Our third visitor was young and he had waited to be admitted. The first thing he did on entering was to straighten the chair and sit on it properly.

  “Steve Lehman, R and D,” he introduced himself.

  I studied that young man as Susannah asked him some general questions. I liked what I saw and from my glance at the employee file, I knew he had an engineering degree.

  However, for some reason he wasn’t looking at Susannah, he seemed to be picking lint off his spotless white shirt.

  He was praising the company and Bryan, but I wondered if he had ideas he didn’t want to broach.

  I suggested very softly for Susannah to ask what his current project was.

  “Oh, I’m investigating different polymers for casings,” he said, but he was still picking at his sleeve.

  “John had me trying out a modification for an altimeter. I told him it wouldn’t work but he said the boss had ordered it. I assume it didn’t work because it is still sitting in John’s desk.”

  “What is your opinion of the Marriot altimeter?” Susannah asked.

  This time, Steve looked up. “It’s one of the best around. I think I could improve the accuracy but I’m sure John couldn’t. He should stick to marketing.”

  Susannah took a page out of her case. “I need your ideas on this – it’s a report on one of our altimeters. They say it caused a crash.”

  Steve reached out for the sheet and read the highly technical report with ease. He was shaking his head when he finished.

  “Miss Marriot, this looks like one of ours – but for starters, the alloy used is wrong and it is not a standard unit. If I didn’t know better – I would say it was the one I made for John. Bryan shouldn’t have passed this. Have you a copy of the certification?”

  Susannah shook her head. ”I’m looking for it.”

  I whispered another suggestion in Susannah’s ear.

  “This is off the record, Steve,” Susannah went on. “And, it’s purely curiosity at the moment, but I’d like to know if we can improve our products and production methods. I was also wondering if there were any more technologically up to date instruments we could make.”

  There was an interested gleam in Steve’s eyes.

  “Miss Marriot, I have a whole lot of ideas. I keep right up to date on the latest technology. I reckon we could try for some government contracts – with only minor modifications to our systems…”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Susannah warned. “I’ve got this other mess to sort out yet. However, I would like to see your ideas. I’ll talk to you in a week. Is that enough time?”

  She was leaning forward, a new light in her eyes.

  Steve Lehman seemed to bounce out of the room, after he left the report on the desk.

  “Why is it that they don’t seem to notice you?” Susannah asked me.

  “They are concerned about their jobs. Right now – you’re the boss. They have no time for me.”

  “I thought you were taking notes?”

  “I am,” I said. My notebook was full of neat notes. I quickly grabbed the pen that was on the desk.

  “Who haven’t we seen yet?” Susannah asked me. “You found the list.”

  “John Jefferson,” I managed to croak out the name. I hadn’t really seen it before.

  “Are you alright, Edwina?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Of course I am. It’s just, well; I was dating him until three months ago.”

  We didn’t have to wait long. He sauntered into the office and flashed that charming smile of his at Susannah. I suddenly wanted to scratch it off his face.

  John Jefferson certainly didn’t seem to be mourning the loss of his chance at Papa’s money – or me either. He had told me that he owned his own business - where here he was merely a marketing manager. I wonder what other lies he told me.

  When he sat on the chair Steve had vacated, he rested one leg over the other and put his hands behind his head. I wondered what I had ever seen in the arrogant bastard. I bet he felt he should be in charge of the company.

  “Mr Jefferson, I notice our sales have dropped off over the past year. What advertising do we have at the moment?”

  John rattled off a list of trade magazines and specialty magazines.

  “When did you last update the wording?”

  “A year ago – wasn’t much need – the product hasn’t changed.”

  “It seems that your latest campaign isn’t working,” Susannah remarked. “Could you bring me a copy of some of the trade magazines? I would like to see what our ads look like in them.”

  “Certainly, Miss Marriot,” he smiled calmly. “Is there anything else I can help you with? I know all there is to know about the company.”

  “Tell me how you got the Kittering contract,” Susannah asked.

  “I was in the right place at the right time,” he claimed.

  I had to listen as he bragged about his smart work. I closed my ears and ignored him.

  “How well do you know him, Edwina?”

  Susannah was staring at me; John had gone.

  “We used to date,” I said with a shudder. “I can’t imagine why.”

  “Who are you, Edwina?”

  I had moved my hands and forgot in my agitation to move the pad and pencil too. I grabbed them carefully.

  “Shouldn’t you be asking me what am I?”

  “I’ve already decided that you are more my ghost writer than my secretary – and only I can see you.”

  “I’m Edwina Kittering,” I admitted.

  “Edwina Kittering died three months ago.”

  I shuddered. “Yes…”

  “So why did you come here? For vengeance?”

  “No. I was given a choice. I could hav
e gone around again – as someone else, or redeem my otherwise useless life by helping someone. I found myself in your garden.”

  “It was one of our instruments that caused your plane to crash.”

  “Yes, I had realised that, but I don’t blame you. Now, at least, I know that it wasn’t my incompetence that killed my friends. Inexperience perhaps, but nothing more.”

  “Bryan disappeared the day after the crash. I wish I knew why.”

  “He’s not dead,” I blurted suddenly. “I’d know if he was.”

  “Which means I can’t do anything.” Susannah slumped backing her chair.

  “You’re wrong. This is your chance. When your brother returns, you will have a working knowledge of the business and when you solve this problem – you will have him over a barrel.”

  “I like your attitude, Edwina,” Susannah chuckled. “I think I feel ready to take that tour of the factory with Clarrie. What will you do?”

  “I think I will check the files for details of that sale. And I will creep into John’s office and try for a look at that prototype. I might even invade Prosser’s domain. Um, can I look at that report that you showed Steve?”

  I ignored the technical stuff – just memorised the serial number.

  “Let’s compare notes later,” Susannah grinned.

  Something about seeing John again stirred me up. I knew now that he had been using me for purposes of his own. I wanted to know why.

  The idea simmered in my mind as I looked through the files in the office. I wanted an invoice or a purchase order or a copy of the certification for the unit described in the report.

  I found an invoice, but it didn’t show the serial number.

  I thought of Prosser’s records and found my way to the storeman’s office. He was absent so he wouldn’t see me checking his files.

  I found what I needed – Prosser’s packing slip and a copy of the certification and specifications. I had all the information I wanted – date packed, date despatched, consignee, items sent, serial numbers – everything. I carefully removed the sheet from the files – and only shut the drawer again in time.

  John Jefferson came in and began to repeat my actions. I watched for a moment, hearing him swear under his breath. Then it occurred to me that it was a good time to check his office.