“We have to have some categorization.”
“You told me you paid by merit. These categories are by age; and every girl in each category earns exactly the same wage. Are you telling me that they all have equal typing ability, timekeeping and absentee characteristics, length of service, and so on?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why tell me you pay on individual merit?”
“They’re only typists.”
Masters put the cards down. “I’ll test you. Show me the records for your salesmen.”
“Medical Representatives,” Torr said snappily.
These cards were blue. There were about a hundred. Masters said, “Exactly the same here. Are all these men of equal merit or are they ‘only representatives’?”
“You don’t understand business,” said Torr. “There’s got to be some categorization in a concern this size.”
“I know when somebody tries to con me,” said Masters. “And I like to know why. Particularly when it’s over some stupid little point like this. What are you trying to do? Impress me? Or mislead me in a murder enquiry?”
Torr said: “I had nothing to do with A.A.’s death.”
“Why try to bamboozle me?”
“I haven’t seen A.A. for a fortnight.”
“I’ll believe that when I’ve proved it. Show me your record card.”
“I can’t. A.A. sent for it and two others a few days ago.”
“What others?”
“The Company Pharmacist’s and one of the advertising copywriters’. With the personal files.”
“I’ll know what to look for. How often did Mr Huth send for personnel details?”
“Practically never.”
Masters turned to Green. “Have you seen the files of people who’ve been fired?”
Green said, “He says no records are kept. But now I don’t know whether to believe him.”
Torr started to protest. Green spoke above him. “The directors are too high an’ mighty to have their details on paper like everybody else. There’s no cards here for them. I reckon there must be files for them somewhere, and as our friend let slip there’s a dirty great basement specially divided into cages for storing important documents, I can’t see the purpose of them if it’s not to store past records.”
Torr said, “The chairman keeps the details of everybody who reports direct to him. And I don’t know what he does with the documents when a director leaves.”
“I’d still like to see your past records,” said Masters. “I’ll be going to the basement straight after lunch so I’ll have your key now.”
Torr took the key so willingly from his bunch that for a moment Masters thought he’d been telling the truth. Then he remembered the duplicate and asked for it, too.
“There isn’t a duplicate.”
“Then there must be a master. Who keeps it?”
Masters felt pleased with himself. Torr sounded mean when he at last suggested the House Manager. Green went off to find him. Masters asked Torr, “Are you a pharmacist or a doctor?”
“No.”
“Yet you’re responsible for recruiting people with technical knowledge. How do you manage it?”
“I only do the advertising and prepare short-lists. Departmental directors make the final choice.”
Masters stopped at the door. “I’ll be seeing you again. I make a point of being interested in people who aren’t absolutely frank with me. Meanwhile, just carry on with your job of keeping people happy. And don’t get up to any funny business.”
*
The directors had finished lunch and gone, so the restaurant manageress had arranged for Masters and his assistants to lunch in their dining-room. The butler, now wearing his jacket, was there to attend to them. He served Masters with gin and tonic.
Masters asked, “Do the directors drink much?”
“They’re very light drinkers, sir. Usually only one drink before lunch. Occasionally a little wine with the meal, usually in hot weather. The chairman didn’t like to see a lot of drinking.”
“Why not?”
“He used to say alcohol in the middle of the day was not fire water but zizz water. Meaning, of course, sir, that it did not spur the gentlemen on in the afternoons, but sent them to sleep at their desks.”
“Did he practise what he preached?”
“Unless he had guests, sir. Then he might take a liqueur.”
“What about yesterday?”
“Mr Huth was unwell. At least, I thought he was. He came in for lunch and asked me for Tio Pepe.”
“Not Bristol Milk?”
The butler was impressed. And yet, Masters thought, he must have known of Huth’s private bar because it was ten to one that the chairman got his stocks — at cost — from the dining-room bar.
“Now how did you know that, sir? Mr Huth always took Bristol Milk, but yesterday he wanted something a little more astringent. He said he had accepted a cigar in his office and his mouth tasted as if he’d been smoking tram-driver’s glove.”
“Did he actually say that?” asked Green, standing by with a glass of Worthington in his hand.
Masters thought the question was typical of Green. A child would know that this butler could not use a phrase like that unless he were quoting verbatim.
“His exact words, Inspector. Mr Huth wasn’t often humorous, although I have heard him refer to inferior cigars as ‘sailor’s sock.’ He was always most careful, particularly when ladies were present.”
“Scared of women, was he?” asked Green, gulping down the dregs of his beer.
“Shy, perhaps. When he didn’t know them well.”
Masters asked: “What was he like when he did know them well?”
“It seemed to depend, sir.”
“On what?”
“With age he was most correct, sir. With youth he was a little more free and easy.”
Green said, “You mean he liked ’em young.”
The butler gave Green the look he had asked for. Masters said, “So you gave him Tio Pepe. How much?”
“He wanted to cleanse his palate, sir, so I gave him rather more than a measure.”
“A port glass?”
The butler flushed. “A burgundy glass, sir. Not full, of course, but a generous measure.”
“Did he have anything else?”
“Not before lunch. But I thought he began to look ill when he was at table. He just picked at his food, which was unlike him, so I persuaded him to have a brandy with his coffee.”
“Another generous measure?”
“A double, sir. He really did look pale, and I thought it would do him good. I’m extremely sorry if I did wrong.”
“You weren’t wrong. He was ill.”
“Thank you, sir. Another gin?”
Masters was tempted, but refused. He moved to the table. The restaurant manageress must have been watching through the hatch. She came in from the kitchen. When he saw her, Masters was surprised and immediately interested. This girl, he thought, would attract attention anywhere. She had the most lovely red hair he had ever seen. Not the fine hair that tends to straighten, but the coarser type that waves naturally. Although it was cut medium short there was a mass of it. He felt he would like to see it spread beside him, on a green satin pillow. Her face was round and cheerful. The sort he would have been prepared to accept as beautiful — at the right moment. Her figure was good, but plumpish rather than classical. The shape of her legs was enhanced by the height of her shoe heels: the slight chubbiness of the calves flattened and firmed by the tension on the muscles to an erotic degree not lost on Hill and Brant. They both followed her progress about the room with undisguised interest.
She stopped by Masters, close enough to make him even more aware of her. She looked cuddly. “It’s a cold meal because I wasn’t sure whether you’d really be here by half past one.”
“A cold meal will suit us just fine, Miss …”
“Diane Murdo.”
“
How long have you been here, Miss Murdo?”
“About two years.” There was an unmistakable Scots brogue.
“From Edinburgh, at a guess,” said Masters. “I know — Atholl Crescent.”
She lifted her fine brows in amazement. “And just how would you know about that?”
“You wouldn’t be the first bonny lass that’s learned her art there and come down to give us Sassenachs the benefit of her training.”
Miss Murdo laughed delightedly.
Masters asked: “How often did you see and speak to Mr Huth?”
“I saw him — from a distance — practically every day. As for having a crack with him, that’s happened about twice since I’ve been here.”
“Did you see him yesterday?”
“Through the hatch after he’d had lunch. He looked quite ill.”
“Didn’t anybody do anything for him?”
“Dr Mouncer was here.”
“Who’s he?”
“The Medical Director. It wasn’t up to me to interfere. I only know the little bit of first aid that’s included in a catering course.”
“Did you ever meet Mr Huth outside the office?”
“Just once.” Masters thought he detected a slight tension in her voice, and just a faint blush on her cheeks as though the question had evoked a memory that embarrassed her.
“Thank you, Miss Murdo. And congratulations on the lunch.”
*
After the meal they sat alone in the dining-room. Masters said to Green, “Go through Torr’s storage cage. All the signs are that there’s something nasty down there.”
“Any idea what?”
“Not the faintest. I’ve been thinking about it, and to be honest, I can’t see what he can possibly have to hide.”
“That’s a fat lot of good. But I owe Torr something for trying to fob me off with a load of statistics about fifty-three per cent of the typists being married and a constant percentage being pregnant at any given moment. If there’s anything down there I’ll find it.”
“Take Brant with you. Hill and I can manage upstairs.”
“Are you getting anywhere?” Green made the mistake of sounding as though he hoped he would get a negative answer. Masters refused to give him that pleasure. Instead he said, “Alcohol potentiates the barbiturates.”
“Like when drunks take sleeping pills and wake up dead?”
“Hill discovered Huth took brandy and sherry privately in his office yesterday. Now we’ve heard he had the same again down here.”
“So what?”
“So we’ve discovered that at least he helped to kill himself.”
“And we’re left with only half a murder.”
“Perhaps. Unless whoever killed Huth was counting on the effects of the alcohol to help the game along. If so, it was somebody close enough to him to know his habits down to the last drink. But I’d still like you to search the basement, even if Torr wasn’t that close to Huth.”
*
Sheila Krick had made extensive repairs to her makeup, and looked better for the brandy and food. She was smoking a cigarette when Masters and Hill entered the boardroom. Hill took an unobtrusive seat at the opposite end of the table. Masters sat close to the girl. She said, “I enjoyed my lunch after all. Oh! I’d better take the tray back. The kitchen staff get very angry if they’re left lying about in offices.”
“Sergeant Hill will take it.” Hill carried the tray out to the vestibule and put it on the floor, under a radiator. When he got back Masters was telling Miss Krick he wanted to know exactly what had happened in Huth’s suite the day before.
She didn’t know where to start. Masters knew this was a common difficulty and let her take her time.
She said, “It was quite an ordinary day, really. Mr Huth wanted to get all the routine correspondence done before lunch because he was going to London in the afternoon for a meeting of the Association.”
“Do you always call him Mr Huth to other people? Never A.A. or Admirable Adam like the other employees?”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t be so familiar. He was so much older.”
Masters thought her answer bore out her previous statement. Any girl who had been a man’s regular mistress for two years wouldn’t have been so formal. He wondered how she had addressed him on the few occasions they had been in bed together, or if she had avoided his name, making intimate moments so strained that Huth had not been eager for a more frequent relationship.
“What time was the meeting?”
“A quarter to three. It always is. But I know Mr Huth wanted to be there earlier than that because he’d written to the chairman of another company to say he’d like to meet him before the Association began.”
“What for?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“I can’t. He often did it. Just wrote and said he’d meet people to chat about something.”
“In other words he used to lobby opinion on whatever was of interest to him at a particular time?”
“I expect so.”
“Did you get through the work?”
“Yes. All of it. He always kept the mornings of Association days free from interviews, and that helped.”
“Who knew he did that?”
“Everybody.”
“So there were no callers yesterday morning?”
“Dr Mouncer came in for coffee. He usually does every day. He stayed about twenty minutes.”
“Was that when Mr Huth smoked the cigar?”
“What cigar? He always smoked them.”
“Always the same sort?”
“Always. He wouldn’t touch any other make.”
“How did he get one he didn’t like yesterday morning?”
“I didn’t know he did.”
“Did he leave the office at all?”
“Just once. To go to the lavatory, I think. He was only away for about two ticks.”
“No other visits?”
“Not that I know of. But I went out twice to spend a penny myself, and once to see Joan Parker. She’s P.A. to the Financial Director. There was one of their minutes I wanted explaining.”
“How long were you away?”
“Only a minute or two each time I went to the loo, but about twenty minutes when I went to see Miss Parker. I told Mr Huth I was going, of course. I always did when I was going to be away for more than a minute or two.”
“Do you think anybody could have visited him while you were away?”
“It wouldn’t be likely. He never saw anybody without an appointment.”
“And you’re sure there was no visit arranged for about that time?”
“Not unless he made it himself, by phone, and forgot to put it in the diary. That wouldn’t be like him, and I’m sure nobody in the company would ask to see him on the morning of an Association meeting day.”
“Did anybody ring you up and ask you to go anywhere away from the office? To the foyer to meet somebody? Or to the pay office to sort out some mistake in your pay?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Was Mr Huth smoking a cigar when you got back from seeing Miss Parker?”
“I can’t remember exactly, but I don’t think so. There might have been one on the ashtray when I poked my head round the door.”
“No smell of cigar smoke? Think hard, because smells bring back memories.”
She shook her head. “There always was a smell of cigars. The office has an extractor but there’s always a smell. It clings to the furniture and curtains, I think.”
“Did Dr Mouncer come for coffee before or after you went to see Miss Parker?”
“Just after I got back.”
“And when did Mr Huth go for lunch?”
“At about twenty to one it would be. I locked his door and my own and followed him out. That was the last time I saw him alive.”
Masters wasn’t prepared to let her brood at this point. “Did he say what he intended to do?”
&
nbsp; “No, but I didn’t expect to see him after lunch. I knew I’d be back about a quarter to two and he’d be gone by then. It takes nearly an hour to get to London by road and he wanted to be early for his meeting. When I got back his door was still locked, so as I was busy, I never went in there again. I thought he’d been and gone.”
“Did he always carry his own keys?” Masters had seen them among the contents of Huth’s pockets. He could see them, as Hill had laid them out, keys, cigar case, matches … Masters paused for a moment. There was something missing. No cigar cutter. Probably he smoked the sort that didn’t need cutting. He repeated: “Did he always carry his own keys?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Do you always take an hour for lunch?”
“Not often. Not if Mr Huth was going to be in the office in the afternoon. But when he was going to be out like he was yesterday I used to take the full time and do my shopping. Actually I went to the launderette yesterday, so it took me a bit more than the hour, but nobody minds because I just scoot out and back again on so many days.”
“And you didn’t go into Mr Huth’s office again until this morning?”
“No. You see, with him away, I get a chance to get away on time. So as I was a bit late getting back from lunch I rushed a bit to get finished by a quarter past five.” A sudden thought struck her. She stared at him, horrified, her baby mouth open. “Do you think he might have been in there all yesterday afternoon?”
Masters said, “Perhaps. I shall have to check a bit further to make sure.”
“But I might have saved him. Oh, why didn’t I look in?”
“You couldn’t have known, so don’t get upset. What I want to know is why nobody else found him before you did this morning. Isn’t the office ever cleaned?”
“Oh, it is, very carefully. But I have to be here when it’s done. There was some industrial sabotage once, so Mr Huth’s door was always locked when both of us were away. It wasn’t cleaned by one of the outside contractors who do all the rest of the building. We have Mrs Pallot, a sort of staff charwoman, who came in at all sorts of odd times when Mr Huth wasn’t here and I was.”
“It sounds haphazard. Didn’t she come up yesterday afternoon?”
Masters and Green Series Box Set Page 3
