In the meantime they worked with the only other clue they had. “It’s the wrong half of the tab,” said the manager of the dry-cleaning chain. “If it was the other half it’d give us the number of the shop where the dressing gown was cleaned. This’ll mean going through every order book in every shop we have.” “Then that’s what we’ll have to do,” said Malone. “Constable Clements will start in right away.” “Why me?” said Clements. “Because I’m the senior bloke and because you’re better at figures than I am. Just imagine you’re reading the form sheets and looking for another winner.” “What are you grinning at?” Clements said to the manager. “Listening to one cop telling another one what to do,” said the manager. He was a cheerful, stout man who looked as if he might be put through his own dry-cleaning process every morning; his shirt was immaculate, his trousers had a knife- edge crease, even his dark hair looked as if it had been cleaned and pressed.
