Free A Dead Man in Tangier by Michael Pearce

I spent money, he would encourage me! “Just add it to your account,” he would say. So that’s what I did. Add it to my accounts. All of them.'
    ‘All of them?'
    ‘Well, I didn’t just use one dressmaker. I liked to use several. One mustn’t let oneself fall into a groove.'
    ‘Certainly not! And – and Bossu encouraged you in this?'
    ‘He was always very generous in that way. “Don’t bother your pretty little head,” he would say. “Just give me the bills.” So I did.'
    ‘And he would settle them?'
    ‘I imagine so. I never heard any more about it.'
    ‘He would write a cheque, I imagine.'
    ‘Cheque?'
    ‘A little bit of paper. It’s usually got a bank’s name on it.'
    Juliette wasn’t sure about that. He certainly had a lot of little bits of paper. And, yes, he used to write on them sometimes.
    ‘You don’t remember the name on the bit of paper, do you? The bank’s name?'
    Juliette’s smooth forehead wrinkled.
    ‘There were a lot of names,’ she said doubtfully.
    ‘One in particular?'
    Juliette couldn’t recall.
    ‘I think he used a lot of banks,’ she said. And then, helpfully: ‘Like me, dressmakers.'
    ‘And when he wanted cash, to give to you, say, what did he do?'
    ‘Do you know,’ said Juliette, ‘I’ve never asked myself that. I would just ask and he would always give me some.'
    ‘Where did he keep it?'
    ‘Keep it?'
    ‘Did he have a safe or something? A drawer, perhaps? in his desk?'
    ‘Not that I’ve found,’ said Juliette. ‘And I’ve looked.'
    Her eyes widened.
    ‘My God!’ she said. ‘You don’t think . . .'
    ‘What?'
    ‘That he kept it at Monique’s! That bitch! She must have it all!'
    ‘No, no, no! Not necessarily. He may have kept it somewhere else. And his papers, too. Did he have an office somewhere, perhaps? Apart from the one at the committee?'
    ‘No, I don’t think so.'
    ‘You see, what I’m trying to do is track down any transactions he might have been engaged in. In case they throw any light, you know, on his death. I’ve been through his office at the committee and there didn’t seem much there. Did he bring stuff like that home?'
    ‘He brought some things home, certainly.'
    ‘Papers?'
    Juliette couldn’t remember.
    ‘Bank statements?'
    What were they?
    ‘Well . . .'
    Juliette wasn’t sure. She didn’t think so.
    ‘I wonder, perhaps, if you would allow me to go through his things?'
    ‘Of course! Come round and see me,’ said Juliette, brightening. ‘Sometime.'
    ‘It’s just the papers,’ said Seymour hastily. ‘If I could.
    ’ ‘I will show you everything!'
    ‘Thank you. Yes, thank you.'
    She frowned.
    ‘Of course . . .'
    ‘Yes?'
    ‘Renaud has them. He’s been helping me, you see. With all the – you know, the horrid stuff that has to be gone into when someone dies. He took everything away with him.'
    ‘The papers?'
    ‘And the bank statements,’ said Juliette. ‘I remember them now.'

Chapter Five
    The next morning Seymour went up to the committee’s offices, where he found Mr Bahnini, head down, already at work.
    He took out the scraps of paper he had found in Bossu’s filing cabinet and laid them on the desk in front of him.
    ‘Could you tell me, Mr Bahnini, to what these refer?'
    ‘They are names of places. Azrou, Immauzer and Tafilalet. And, of course, Casablanca.'
    ‘Anything special about them?'
    ‘The first three are in the south. They are small towns in the interior.'
    ‘Anything else about them?'
    Mr Bahnini shook his head.
    ‘I would say there is very little to distinguish them. Apart from being the only towns in miles and miles of desert.'
    ‘Beside them are some numbers. And dates. Azrou, for instance: 5000, 2nd April. Immauzer, 7000, 20th May. What do the numbers refer to? Could they be sums of money?'
    ‘They could.'
    ‘There wouldn’t be any reference to these sums, if they are sums, in the minutes of the committee? I was just wondering if they were authorized expenditure.'
    Mr Bahnini shook