Abacus

corner table. It had certainly been a very hectic day, and it wasn’t over yet. He looked out into the bustling street. Georgie G had seemed quite concerned at the station, so he presumed there were some decisions to be made about the Digby investigation.
    He watched Georgie G hurry along the pavement and skip up the steps into the hotel. Randall held out a full glass of beer he had bought for him earlier.
    “Thanks , boss,” Georgie G said, taking a mouthful before sitting down. “What a bloody day.” He leaned back in his seat with arms draped either side.
    “Well , what have they got to say for themselves?” Randall asked.
    Georgie G took another long sip. “Digby’s parents reckon he is definitely dead. They wanna know what we are doing about it. They think we’re not doing enough.”
    Wiping the moisture from the table top with a car dboard coaster, Randall said, “Well, the only person we have to justify our actions to is the coroner. If our actions are in line with his expectations, everything is fine.”
    “W hen do you reckon we need to look at it as a murder investigation, because it may become unreasonable to treat it as a missing person when there is a fair bit of evidence to the contrary.”
    Randall watched a large group of workmen enter the pub, then his attention was back at Georgie G. “Listen, Georgie, are you completely okay with your earlier decision with the diary?”
    “Of course. I know you would have touched him up, but I also know you wouldn’t have killed him.”
    Randall nodded. “I’m only asking because it was never my intention to put you in this situation. You know that.”
    Georgie G nodded, then looked over his shoulder. “There is something else, boss.”
    “What? ”
    “The parents know he had a diary and wrote in it religiously, they want to know where it is. They think that if he lef t the mobile phone and his personal effects at the unit, the diary should definitely be there.”
    “Well , obviously they are bloody wrong,” Randall said sharply.
    “They haven’t said as m uch but they reckon we should’ve found the diary when we did the initial search.”
    Randall tapped his fingers on the table top. “We’ll give it another week, Georgie, see if he turns up. There is still a chance he is out there. If we hear nothing we will treat it as a homicide.”
    Georgie looked relieved. “Ok ay, sounds good.”
    “B ut we don’t really have to go hard at it, do we? What I mean is it’s a bloody good result if he is dead, isn’t it?”
    Georgie G again appeared concerned. “I agree, it would be a good result if he were dead, boss.” He paused. “However, my real concern is that the coroner and family would expect us to have made inquiries at his local hangout, which you know is the Edinburgh Hotel.”
    Randall looked up at the ceiling. “Shit, the CCTV.”
    “That’s right , that pub is full of poker machines so it has cameras everywhere and they have to keep footage for a few months.” They took a sip of their beer in unison. Leaning a little closer, Georgie G said, “You just let me know how you want it run and I’ll do it. I know the family are going to push for more to be done and they’ll probably go to the press if they aren’t satisfied.”
    “Let’s just see what hap pens over the next week, mate. Any repercussions from the Edinburgh Hotel I will have to deal with myself. They are my issues to sort out, not yours. I’m just going to have to take whatever is coming my way.”
    Getting to his feet, he patted Georgie G on the shoulder and winked at him. “Cheer up, mate, we’re detectives, this is what we do, it’s character building.”
    Georgie raised his gla ss and could not help but smile. “Nothing worries you does it, boss?”
    Randall flashed a smile. “When you see me worrying, it’s definitely time for you to start.”
    Randall skipped out onto the busy street and rushed past the oncoming pedestrians. As he negotiated the busy pavement, he thought about how staunch Georgie G had been. Renowned for his indecisiveness, he had underestimated how strong and reliable he would be in a questionable situation.

    CHAPTER 20 – BY GEORGE

    “What’s da matter, my Georgie? You don’t look so good, and why you no eat,” his concerned mother Anthea asked in her heavy Greek accent.
    “ He must be sick. Don’t you think, Mama?” His elderly grandmother seated opposite was doing her best to chew the diced up food with her pearly