Chapter 13: AccountsA couple of weeks later, Laurie sat at the dark mahogany desk in the small office, with its tooled gold and green leather writing pad and put his head in his hands in despair.
None of the papers spread out on the surface in front of him made sense. Partly because he was so tired and foggy all the time—his brain just didn’t seem to work the way it had before. And partly because there were so many bits of paper and notes on the back of envelopes and in one case, genuinely, on the back of a fag packet. He had no idea where to start. Clearly no-one had done any paperwork since he had last opened the study door six months ago, just piled things up on the dark mahogany desk in his absence.
He opened the black boards of the ledger and began to leaf through it. There was his
