The Altered Case by Peter Turnbull

a tall, thin man whom, both officers noted, was immaculately dressed, though not wholly to the taste of either Hennessey or Yellich. The plum coloured suit, the yellow tie, the small, almost ladylike watch he wore, it was a dress sense which did not appeal to the officers. The man, the officers also noted, had only one arm. The left arm seemed to have been lost just above the elbow, and the left sleeve of his jacket was hitched up to the shoulder and held in place with a large safety pin. He tapped his left arm as he saw the officers, noting the image he presented. ‘They offered me a prosthetic arm but I declined, I mean, everyone can tell it’s plastic. I have the same attitude to false teeth. If they had any medical value I would wear them, but they are just cosmetic. If I had lost my leg I would have used a crutch. I just have no time at all for cosmetics, no time at all.’
    â€˜I confess I have the same attitude.’ George Hennessey adjusted his position in the chair in front of Bateman’s desk, which had looked soft but in the event had proved itself to be surprisingly hard. To his right he observed Yellich, who sat in an identical chair, making the selfsame discovery.
    â€˜Yes, I believe that I must have inherited that attitude from an elderly relative of mine. He left one of his legs behind him during the retreat to Dunkirk and I have early memories of him powering along the pavement with a crutch under each arm and me running behind him trying to keep up with him. He just seemed to carry all before him, and he once told me that he walked much more powerfully with two bits of wood under each arm than he had ever done with two good legs. He drank like a fish and he had a wild temper, and if he got into a fight he’d sort out the whole pub with his crutches, or so I was told in later years. I never really knew him. He died when I was still very young but his legend lived on after him, it still does in fact. Folk in our village still talk about him. I lost my arm in a motorcycle accident, nothing so heroic or patriotic in my tale of woe.’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ Hennessey replied, as a pain stabbed at his emotions.
    â€˜Well, the old “put it into context number”, I suppose. I was the pillion, the driver lost his life. My Great Uncle Benjamin Bateman lived without a leg for seventy of his ninety-three years. I dare say I can live without half of one arm, and, like I said, at least I am still here . . . and my friend is in his family plot. You must put these things in context and just knuckle down and get on with life.’
    â€˜Is the correct attitude.’ Hennessey rested his hat on his knee. ‘Quite the correct attitude.’
    â€˜Your long shot may just pay off, gentlemen; it just might well pay off. This modest little company keeps all of its records for the five years required by the Inland Revenue and we continue to keep them out of interest, thus forming a company archive, although it is not a complete historical record. There are some gaps, I have to warn you of that. Some have been lost, inexplicably vanished, and we once sacked an employee for gross inefficiency together with an offhand and abusive attitude towards customers. So she walked out and when she had gone we found out that she had removed a few old ledgers with her, just out of spite. We wondered what was in the large shopping bag she carried. She took them because she knew how much we valued them. She probably burned them. Other ledgers were thrown out by an over zealous employee who was just “making room”, she said, for more recent documents. Either way, ledgers have been lost . . . taken, thrown away or just vanished as if we have a poltergeist on the premises.’ Bateman paused and held eye contact with Hennessey and Yellich, ‘So all I can do is check . . . September, thirty years ago . . . I’ll see what I can find.’
    â€˜If you’ll be so good.’