Nobody's Perfect

by Douglas Clark

  “How long?”

  “In the boardroom. It was a meeting to discuss marketing a new product. It’s a good product for treating …”

  “Never mind the details. What was the meeting about?”

  “The meeting? To decide whether we should try to educate doctors in the seriousness of the disease our drug would treat, or whether we should concentrate on emphasizing the uses of the drug itself.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “If we stressed the seriousness of the disease, we should create a market for the drug. The other view was that doctors already felt the need for the drug and so we should concentrate on showing what it would do and let the market grow gradually.”

  “When was this?”

  “Four or five weeks ago.” Dieppe smoothed his hair with his right hand, preening himself. “I was called in to give my expert opinion as to the likely attitude of doctors to the two different approaches.”

  Masters asked, “Have you seen Mr Huth since then?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ve seen him.”

  “Have you spoken to him?”

  Dieppe almost shouted. “No!”

  Masters got to his feet. He thought that if he were to press on with more questions Dieppe would either collapse or go berserk. “Thank you, Mr Dieppe. I won’t keep you from your work any longer.”

  Dieppe stared in surprise. When he realized the interview was over he helped himself to another cigarette. He was lighting it when Masters turned at the door and said: “Do you ever take sedatives?”

  Dieppe said, “No, never.”

  “Not even when you have migraine?”

  He waved the cigarette airily. “Oh, I do then, of course. That’s medicine.”

  Masters walked away wondering just how much faith he could put in Dieppe’s word. A man in so nervous a state was liable to say anything that came into his head, particularly if he thought it would benefit him in some way. Would a truthful man have said he never used sedatives if he had recourse to them as often as Dieppe suffered migraine attacks?

  *

  Masters joined Hill in Huth’s office. “I’m not sure whether I got the truth out of Dieppe, but I had no proof of lies to confront him with, and I daren’t try to break him down. He’d have caved in completely. Any joy from the tapes?”

  “Nothing on Torr and Hunt, but Dieppe’s definitely been sacked.”

  “What?”

  “It’s all there. A memo telling Torr to give Dieppe a month’s notice.” Hill handed Masters a sheet of flimsy. “I got the Krick to type you a copy.”

  Masters read: “As a result of your report to me and subsequent conversations with those most closely concerned, I have decided that we no longer require the services of Mr E. W. Dieppe. Please inform Mr Dieppe of this decision formally in writing, and personally ensure that he receives not only the usual month’s salary and all superannuation benefits, but also a redundancy payment of one week’s salary for every year of service with the Company.

  “The post of Company Pharmacist will be filled from within the Company. You may, however, find it necessary to recruit a younger pharmacist to fill the gap. Please consult Dr Mouncer before taking action on this point.”

  Masters considered the memo for several seconds. Hill said, “He made it clear enough, didn’t he?”

  “Clear enough as a declaration of his intentions. But it’s a paradox, all the same.”

  “How?”

  “Sacking an old servant is a dirty trick, even in business. Sending him off with all that extra pay is generous. Dieppe’s been here donkey’s years, so it’ll be a tidy sum.”

  “These bosses get like that sometimes. A rush of remorse as they’re knotting the rope on the neck. But they go on tying, and the bloke’s left inside, just the same.”

  Masters sat in one of the easy chairs and put the memo on the coffee table. He said: “That may be one explanation, but all our investigations so far show that Huth never bothered himself with hiring and firing people as lowly as Dieppe.”

  “He did this time, all right.”

  “Because of an adverse report from Torr. Have you found it?”

  “I’ve looked, but it’s not here.”

  “Has Miss Krick ever seen one?”

  “I’ve asked her. She says she hasn’t. But if it was marked private and confidential she says Huth would have opened it himself.”

  “I want it found.”

  “If it exists. Couldn’t it have been a verbal report?”

  “I don’t think so. Torr hadn’t spoken to Huth for some time, or so he said.”

  “If we can believe him.”

  “I’m inclined not to. But why should he lie about that?”

  Hill said, “He had to. If he wanted you to believe he hadn’t been given a rocket by Huth about that Metathiazanone, he had to say they hadn’t spoken to each other for ages.”

  “Probably. But if that report was in writing and it can’t be found, it looks bad for Dieppe.”

  “Meaning he pinched it to destroy all evidence of his motive, when he came in to plant the poison? And he didn’t know about the tape?”

  Masters said, “That’s not the only solution. Huth said he had conversations with those most closely concerned. I can’t see that anybody was more closely concerned than Dieppe himself. And yet he says Huth didn’t speak to him.”

  Hill said, “If Huth told Dieppe he was going to give him the boot …”

  Masters interrupted: “We’ll ask Miss Krick if she can remember Dieppe coming to see Huth at any time during the past week.”

  As he passed through the P.A.’s office, Green and Brant walked in. Masters said, “Wait for me. I shan’t be long, then we’ll go for lunch.”

  Miss Krick couldn’t remember a visit by Dieppe. She said, “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t come. I’m in and out of the office quite a lot sometimes. Mr Huth could send for anybody and speak to them while I was away.”

  Masters and Hill left her. Hill said, “Do you think Huth might have sent her off on some job to give him the chance of sending for Dieppe secretly? It wouldn’t take long to fire him.”

  *

  After lunch, when they had returned to Huth’s office, Green reported on his interviews with Reculver and Pitt, and then he and Brant were shown the memo.

  Green said, “I reckon we’ve got four suspects.”

  “Four?” Masters asked. “Who’ve you added? It was three this morning.”

  “I’ve added Dr Mouncer.”

  “I wondered when you’d get round to him.”

  Green said, “So let’s see where we stand.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Mrs Huth first. She knew her husband was running after another woman. He sometimes stayed out at nights without telling her first. With him out of the way she’ll get at least fifty thousand quid. Quite a motive for a woman who’s being ignored.”

  Masters said, “I must ask Miss Krick if she ever kept Huth out all night. She does her own shopping and laundry so she probably lives alone.”

  “Torr second,” said Green. “Huth had got to know where the missing Metathiazanone had gone. He called Torr a con man. Torr knew he would get the push. Cushy job and profitable sideline all gone. So he killed Huth to prevent it.”

  Masters said, “We’ll have to have a word with Torr about the Metathiazanone. And I want to know what his report on Dieppe was all about.”

  Green went on, “Dieppe third. He’s just the sort of nervous crank to do in somebody who’s done him dirt. Huth gave him the push, so Dieppe uses the weapon he knows most about and poisons Huth before the news of the sacking becomes known.”

  Masters said, “Men are sacked daily, but the bosses aren’t murdered.”

  “Dieppe had good reason. He knew he’d never get another Company Pharmacist’s job. He’d have to go into a retail shop, which we know he hates; and he wouldn’t get as much money there, either. So he panicked and used drugs to poison Huth.”

  Master
s filled and lit his pipe.

  Green said, “Dr Mouncer fourth. With Huth out of the way he becomes boss. I’ll bet there’s a difference of thousands a year in the salaries. And there’s the power that goes with the job. Mouncer might think that an expert doctor shouldn’t have to knuckle under to a layman. And don’t forget Mouncer is the only one who knew Huth was taking Nutidal. And he’s in a position to get any drugs he wants at any time with no questions asked.”

  Green sat back and looked at Masters, challenging him to disagree. Masters didn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead he said: “You’ve given us something to think about. And something to do. Let’s get on with it. Hill, ring the Yard and get the pathologist’s report. Then try to find Torr’s report on Dieppe. Brant, you find out who the Huths’ family doctor is and ask if he ever prescribed phenobarbitone for any of them. And get to know what he’s giving Mrs Huth for that bad leg of hers.”

  Green asked: “What d’you want me to do?”

  “I thought you’d like to be with me when I tackle Torr. But I want to see Miss Krick first.”

  They found Miss Krick busy with the last of Huth’s dictation. She was in a happier mood. Masters guessed that getting the correspondence finished was a load off her mind. She was girlish and gay, reacting against her former mood. She said, “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, but I think I could really make myself quite indispensable here if I tried. There are so many little bits and pieces to sort out I could make them last for months.”

  Masters said: “Hasn’t Dr Mouncer spoken to you about your future?”

  “Nobody’s said a word to me about anything. Even the girls aren’t speaking to me.”

  Masters wasn’t surprised. Joan Parker had hinted that Miss Krick had pulled her rank as Huth’s PA. and now Huth was no longer alive, Krick’s standing wasn’t what it had been. He thought the girls were getting a bit of their own back by ignoring her. She probably deserved it.

  He said: “Don’t worry. I’m sure your job will be safe.”

  She replied: “I could get another tomorrow, as easy as winking, but I’ve got a nice flat near here. I wouldn’t want to leave it and move into London.”

  “Did Mr Huth ever spend the night at your flat?”

  She flushed. Masters thought she didn’t like being reminded she had been the dead man’s mistress.

  “Never.”

  “Did he ever want to?”

  “I wouldn’t have let him if he had. What would the neighbours have said?”

  “Quite a lot, probably. But I expect they saw him when he called on you there.”

  “He never came to my flat. You’ve got it all wrong. I told you. He sometimes needed me — or said he did — to go to conferences with him to take notes. That’s all. I told you it didn’t happen often.”

  “That makes some things a bit clearer.”

  “How?”

  “It explains why you were not here to ring up Mrs Huth to say her husband would be away unexpectedly, if he hadn’t managed to tell her himself before he went.”

  She looked bewildered. “I was always told well in advance that we were going. Several days, usually.”

  Masters sensed she was telling the truth. He was thinking hard as he and Green went to the lifts.

  “Torr?” Green asked.

  “Yes. Let’s see how his pulse beats this afternoon.”

  Torr was in a mid-grey, smooth flannel, with covered buttons. A piece of red silk, which Masters guessed was glued to a card to fit the breast pocket, gave a splash of colour. He was writing when they entered his office. He pointedly hid the paper beneath the blotter when he saw who his callers were. He appeared, however, to be more in control of himself than Masters had expected. Masters wondered why, and came to the conclusion that Torr had probably expected to be questioned about the Metathiazanone the previous afternoon. As this had not happened, Torr had probably jumped to one or other of two erroneous conclusions. That the police had been fooled by the keys and had not found the drug, or if they had found it, they had not realized its significance. Such optimism, Masters decided, deserved to blossom a little longer. Torr’s fall, when it came, would be the harder. So before he began to speak, Masters sat and filled his pipe. When it was drawing satisfactorily he said: “I’ve just heard a taped memo from Mr Huth to you. He said you’d made an adverse report to him about Mr Dieppe. What did you say in it?”

  Torr leaned back — the perfect personnel manager now. “It was a written complaint, based on Dieppe’s poor attendance record and my assessment of his management potential.”

  “Which you believed to be poor?”

  “Abysmal. How he got there is beyond me. His promotion was before my time, of course.”

  “I’d like to see the copy of the report.”

  “I’m afraid there is no copy. Confidential reports of this sort are handwritten by the people initiating them. A.A. would not allow duplicates to be made. He said it was unwise to allow typists of any grade to be privy to such things concerning their superiors; and he also wouldn’t allow anything damaging to an employee’s career to go on permanent record until the matter had been fully investigated and confirmed.”

  “And if it was confirmed?” asked Masters.

  Torr corrected him: “If it were confirmed, the most likely result would be that the employee would be dismissed and the complaint destroyed. If investigation proved the complaint to be groundless, the paper was to be destroyed for the sake of the person who had written it as much as for the good of the employee reported on.”

  Green growled, “So that no chap you’d reported on could find out you’d tried to put the skids under him. Isn’t that what you really mean?”

  Torr ignored Green. He said to Masters: “You must see it was a very wise policy.”

  Masters said, “It shows Mr Huth was a very humane man. Now, I’d still like to know what was in your report on Dieppe.”

  As though he were about to open negotiations on some big deal, Torr became confidential. He said: “Part of my job is to ensure good time-keeping and attendance.”

  Masters remained silent. Green glowered. The hostility communicated itself to Torr, who immediately went on the defensive. “It’s no use disguising the fact we’re soft-hearted in the way we treat our staff. Nobody has to punch a clock.”

  Masters asked, “How do you keep check?”

  “We use quite a simple method. In each department is a signing-in book for junior staff. The managers are supposed to rule off and sign at nine o’clock each day. They never do.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the senior staff is slack. We impose no check on them, and so they are not fully aware of the need to do a full day’s work for a full day’s pay. Most of them incline to the view that if we trust the junior staff they will repay the trust by getting to work on time. That is a myth. Ninety per cent of all our employees are up to ten minutes late each day, and the only time they are ahead of the clock is at five fifteen in the afternoons.”

  Masters asked: “Was Dieppe consistently late?”

  “Let us say patchy. He’s an unpredictable driver and his performance in traffic varies with his moods. So though he may set off from his house in good time, he’s not always here on the dot.”

  “How do you know, if you don’t keep check?” asked Green. “Do you keep a special lookout for anybody you want to shop?”

  Torr looked at Masters. “As you see, my office window overlooks the main entrance.”

  “You stand there at nine o’clock?” asked Masters.

  “If he’s here himself by then,” said Green.

  Torr snapped: “It was not Dieppe’s time-keeping I complained about mostly. It was his attendance record.”

  Green asked: “If you don’t check time-keeping how can you check on attendance?”

  Torr continued to address Masters. “Every Friday afternoon the senior secretary in each department fills in an absentee report for the week.”

  Ma
sters said: “Dieppe’s name appeared fairly often?”

  “That’s the point. It never did. He took care to see that his migraine absences, which lasted anything from half a day to two days, were never included. He gave his secretary orders not to mention them.”

  “On what excuse?”

  “Either that recurrent illness for migraine is not absence, or that the form was meant for absences other than illness. Whichever it was he was wrong.”

  “So you had no proper record of Dieppe’s absences to show to Mr Huth?”

  Torr preened himself. “Ah!” he said, “There’s very little goes on in Barugt House that I don’t get to hear about.”

  “I’ll bet,” said Green. “A grass on every floor. Women narks who ferret out little bits and pieces and then come gossiping to you. Some poor devil ten floors up says something about his boss and you hear about it inside five minutes. That’s how it works, isn’t it?”

  Torr answered: “My department has to rely for much of its information on what it hears. It’s common sense to keep one’s ear to the ground.”

  “Just you tell me,” growled Green, “how you could possibly keep an exact tally of Dieppe’s days off unless you were told directly by another employee, close enough to him to know all his comings and goings.”

  Torr appealed to Masters. “This is victimization. Every word I say is wilfully misinterpreted.”

  Masters said, “I shouldn’t worry. But don’t try to hoodwink us about sources of information. We’ve lived with them for years. And Inspector Green’s right. We usually get our information from unsavoury characters who give it in return for some favour. I’ve no doubt you repay your informants in some way. Now get on and tell me about your memo to Mr Huth.”

  Torr looked sulky. Masters thought he wasn’t used to being thwarted. It showed he reigned supreme, dictating to his own department and probably the whole Company. And, presumably, as long as he did what he did in Huth’s name, whether he was exceeding Huth’s instructions or not, he would rarely be bothered by senior management. His guess was that Torr had a veneer of charm when all was going his way. He could probably slap a fellow employee on the back while opposing a pay increase for him. At the moment, however, Masters thought Torr was giving them a glimpse of himself in the part of management’s bully. Masters didn’t like what he saw. For once he found himself on Green’s side. Torr said: “I simply listed Dieppe’s absences …”