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  ‘So where’s Colin?’ the man asked.

  ‘He’s on holiday,’ Alan replied.

  ‘That figures. I can’t remember when I last saw him on a Sunday morning. And he usually waits for my report before he visits the site.’

  ‘I know,’ said Alan. ‘But this is my first case, and I was hoping to have it wrapped up before Colin comes back from his holiday.’

  ‘You never forget your first case,’ said the fire officer as he climbed up into the cab. ‘Mind you, this one’s unlikely to make any headlines, other than in the Romford Recorder. I certainly won’t be recommending a police inquiry.’

  ‘So there’s no suggestion of arson?’ said Alan.

  ‘No, none of the usual tell-tale signs to indicate that,’ said the officer. ‘I’m betting the cause of the fire will turn out to be faulty wiring. Frankly, the whole electrical system should have been replaced years ago.’ He paused and looked back at what remained of the site. ‘It was just fortunate for us that it was an isolated building and the fire broke out in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Was there anyone on the premises at the time?’

  ‘No, Lomax sacked the night watchman about a year ago. Just another victim of the recession. It will all be in my report.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Alan. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen any sign of the rep from the insurance company?’ he asked as the fire chief slammed his door closed.

  ‘If I know Bill Hadman, he’ll be setting up his office in the nearest pub. Try the King’s Arms on Napier Road.’

  Alan spent the next hour walking around the waterlogged site searching for any clue that might prove the fire chief wrong. He wasn’t able to find anything, but he couldn’t help feeling that something wasn’t right. To start with, where was Mr Lomax, the owner, whose business had just gone up in smoke? And why wasn’t the insurance agent anywhere to be seen, when he was going to have to pay out four million pounds of his company’s money? Whenever things didn’t add up, Colin always used to say, ‘It’s often not what you do see that matters, but what you don’t see.’

  After another half-hour of not being able to work out what it was he couldn’t see, Alan decided to take the fire chief’s advice and headed for the nearest pub.

  When he walked into the King’s Arms just before eleven, there were only two customers seated at the bar, and one of them was clearly holding court.

  ‘Good morning, young man,’ said Bill Hadman. ‘Come and join us. By the way, this is Des Lomax. I’m trying to help him drown his sorrows.’

  ‘It’s a bit early for me,’ said Alan after shaking hands with both men, ‘but as I didn’t have any breakfast this morning, I’ll settle for an orange juice.’

  ‘It’s unusual to see someone from your office on site this early.’

  ‘Colin’s on holiday and it’s my first case.’

  ‘You never forget your first case,’ sighed Hadman, ‘but I fear this one won’t be something to excite your grandchildren with. My company has insured the Lomax family from the day they first opened shop in 1892, and the few claims they’ve made over the years have never raised an eyebrow at head office, which is more than I can say for some of my other clients.’

  ‘Mr Lomax,’ said Alan, ‘can I say how sorry I am that we have to meet in such distressing circumstances?’ That was always Colin’s opening line, and Alan added, ‘It must be heartbreaking to lose your family business after so many years.’ He watched Lomax carefully to see how he would react.

  ‘I’ll just have to learn to live with it, won’t I?’ said Lomax, who didn’t look at all heartbroken. In fact, he appeared remarkably relaxed for someone who’d just lost his livelihood but had still found the time to shave that morning.

  ‘No need for you to hang around, old fellow,’ said Hadman. ‘I’ll have my report on your desk by Wednesday, Thursday at the latest, and then the bargaining can begin.’

  ‘Can’t see why there should be any need for bargaining,’ snapped Lomax. ‘My policy is fully paid up, and as the world can see, I’ve lost everything.’

  ‘Except for the tiny matter of insurance policies totalling around four million pounds,’ said Alan after he’d drained his orange juice. Neither Lomax nor Hadman commented as he placed his empty glass on the bar. He shook hands with them both again and left without another word.

  ‘Something isn’t right,’ Alan said out loud as he walked slowly back to the site. What made it worse was that he had a feeling Colin would have spotted it by now. He briefly considered paying a visit to the local police station, but if the fire officer and the insurance representative weren’t showing any concern, there wasn’t much chance of the police opening an inquiry. Alan could hear the chief inspector saying, ‘I’ve got enough real crimes to solve without having to follow up one of your “something doesn’t feel right” hunches.’

  As Alan climbed behind the wheel of his car, he repeated, ‘Something isn’t right.’

  Alan arrived back in Fulham just in time for lunch. Anne didn’t seem particularly interested in how he’d spent his Sunday morning, until he mentioned the word shoes. She then began to ask him lots of questions, one of which gave him an idea.

  At nine o’clock the following morning, Alan was standing outside the claim manager’s office. ‘No, I haven’t read your report,’ Roy Kerslake said, even before Alan had sat down.

  ‘That might be because I haven’t written it yet,’ said Alan with a grin. ‘But then, I’m not expecting to get a copy of the fire report or the insurance evaluation before the end of the week.’

  ‘Then why are you wasting my time?’ asked Kerslake, not looking up from behind a foot-high pile of files.

  ‘I’m not convinced the Lomax case is quite as straightforward as everyone on the ground seems to think it is.’

  ‘Have you got anything more substantial to go on other than a gut feeling?’

  ‘Don’t let’s forget my vast experience,’ said Alan.

  ‘So what do you expect me to do about it?’ asked Kerslake, ignoring the sarcasm.

  ‘There isn’t a great deal I can do before the written reports land on my desk, but I was thinking of carrying out a little research of my own.’

  ‘I smell a request for expenses,’ said Kerslake, looking up for the first time. ‘You’ll need to justify them before I’ll consider parting with a penny.’

  Alan told him in great detail what he had in mind, which resulted in the claims manager putting his pen down.

  ‘I will not advance you a penny until you come up with something more than a gut feeling by the next time I see you. Now go away and let me get on with my job ... By the way,’ he said as Alan opened the door, ‘if I remember correctly, this is your first time flying solo?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Alan, but he’d closed the door before he could hear Kerslake’s response.

  ‘Well, that explains everything.’

  Alan drove back to Romford later that morning, hoping that a second visit to the site might lift the scales from his eyes, but still all he could see were the charred remains of a once-proud company. He walked slowly across the deserted site, searching for the slightest clue, and was pleased to find nothing.

  At one o’clock he returned to the King’s Arms, hoping that Des Lomax and Bill Hadman wouldn’t be propping up the bar as he wanted to chat to one or two locals in the hope of picking up any gossip that was doing the rounds.

  He plonked himself down on a stool in the middle of the bar and ordered a pint and a ploughman’s lunch. It didn’t take him long to work out who were the regulars and who, like him, were passing trade. He noticed that one of the regulars was reading about the fire in the local paper.

  ‘That must have been quite a sight,’ said Alan, pointing to the photograph of a warehouse in flames which took up most of the front page of the Romford Recorder.

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ said the man after draining his glass. ‘I was tucked up in bed at the time, minding my own business.’