Masters said: “No, I wouldn’t. Nor which quarter either. It’s got to be done so that there’s no chance of a slip-up. How far have you got?”
“We’ve done two or three hundred.” He held up a few discards. “When there’s enough of these I’m going down to check them with the mailing list personally.”
Masters said: “Do that. They’re the important ones. I’ll see you at lunchtime.” He went into Reculver’s office. The manager had settled down to work, but he didn’t appear to be giving it much attention. There was fear in his eyes when he looked up and saw Masters. “Have you … have you found anything?”
“Not yet. Now I want the internal indents for the non-scheduled drugs.”
Reculver said: “There won’t be many. The shop supplies the personal needs of everybody below the rank of departmental manager. We only supply top management because we don’t expect them to go and stand in the shop queue. We also meet indents from Pharmacy, Publicity and Research and Development, but the amounts they need, in comparison, are quite small.”
“Show me.”
Reculver called for the indents. A typist brought them in. For ten minutes Masters thumbed through them. He found what he was looking for. He impounded the whole bundle of indents.
“I’m taking these. Would you like a receipt?”
Reculver said: “It doesn’t matter. Do you mean to say that some member of top management murdered A.A.?” Masters thought that Reculver was just the type to hold an outsize opinion of everybody higher up the ladder than himself. The Reculvers of his experience always held tenaciously to the belief that only the lesser lights commit crime.
Masters snapped: “What do you expect? That some little fifteen-year-old messenger girl murdered him?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then you shouldn’t be surprised. And keep quiet about these indents.”
*
Masters called on Barraclough to ask him some questions about the indents. After a satisfactory five minutes he returned to Huth’s office and helped himself to a large gin and tonic from the corner wine cupboard. He was sitting thinking when Green appeared, ready to go to lunch.
“How much longer will you be with those cards?”
“About an hour.”
“Slip along, then. I want the answer quick.”
Green said: “You’re going to give us time to eat?”
“If you’ve got to.”
*
At two o’clock Masters again called on March. March said: “What the devil do you want now? Incompetent bureaucrats popping in and out all day! It’s getting beyond a joke.”
Masters thought March was a bore and said so and continued: “So please keep quiet. I really haven’t the time to listen to your outbursts.”
March slumped back in his chair, his pale face curiously flushed with anger. He slammed the pencil he was holding onto the desk and asked: “What do you want?”
“I told you I’d be coming back. I want your opinion of Mr Huth.”
“Do you? And I suppose you’ll be surprised when I tell you he was a two-faced bastard.”
“I am. He gave you a handsome promotion a month or two ago.”
“I suppose you think I ought to go down on my knees every time his name’s mentioned. I’ll tell you why he gave me my promotion — disregarding the fact that I had thoroughly earned it — it was to keep me quiet.”
“Most of his other employees find him fair-minded.”
“Of course they do. I was sucked in myself, for years. I thought he was a thrusting businessman, research-minded, and big enough to accept the advice his experts like me gave him. That’s what we’re here for.”
“But he wasn’t?”
“He didn’t even try to utilize all the possibilities of this firm.”
“I’ve had all that explained to me.”
“Explained away, you mean. Chaps like me slog our guts out to give him products which will corner every market, and what does he do? He cold-shoulders the ideas. I’ve searched for marginal improvements on drugs, and found them. There’s a good dozen of our products could be improved at no cost to ourselves, and they’d rake in the money. Would he listen? Not likely. Out of the increased business he could pay some of us a bit more to offset the rise in the cost of living, and do sick people a power of good at the same time. I take trouble to find out what doctors want and then I bust a gut trying to give it them. Three entirely new products have been suggested by this department in the past year. With all the relevant medical and marketing facts to show they were good propositions. And what has Huth done about them? Nothing.”
“You’re frustrated?”
“That’s putting it mildly. I want to do things — in my profession and in my life. I want to help sick people but Huth has queered my pitch. I’ve wanted to get married but couldn’t even think about it until Huth saw fit to pay me a bit more — not for my services, but to keep me quiet.”
“Are you thinking of marrying shortly?”
“Since I was promoted I’ve become engaged; but for God’s sake don’t say anything to anybody about it. It’s unofficial.”
“I won’t. Did you ever discuss these points with Mr Huth?”
“Are you serious? I could never get near him.”
“But no doubt you’ve voiced your opinions pretty widely?”
March looked at him hard. “What are you getting at? I didn’t do the old bastard in.”
“I’m not suggesting you did.”
“That’s all right then. No. I’ve written a few pertinent memos, but I’ve kept my mouth shut in Barugt House. With creepers like Torr about it wasn’t safe to speak your mind here.”
“You needn’t worry about Torr any longer.”
“That’s one good piece of work the police have done.”
“You’ve had your say, though — probably to friends and acquaintances.”
“To my fiancée only. She’s the only one who’d listen. I say, you will keep quiet about her, won’t you? She’s a bloody fine girl. I don’t know what the hell she sees in me, but I know what I see in her, so I don’t want to spoil it all by jumping the gun.”
Masters stood up. “Thank you, Mr March. I’ll not tell anybody in Barugt House about your engagement.” He left abruptly, without saying goodbye.
*
Green said: “We’re just finishing off. There’s twenty-seven cards we can’t place.”
Masters took them from him and studied them one by one. After several minutes he looked up and nodded to Green who grinned back in triumph. Masters said quietly: “Take a handful of the cards, just so they won’t be able to check back on the one we want. Then give yourself a treat and tell Reculver he’s made quite a lot of mistakes. I’ve one more short call to make, then I’ll meet you in Huth’s office.”
Masters went down to the first floor and tapped on the door of Diane Murdo’s tiny room.
“You decided you’d come for tea, too?”
“No. I want to ask you some questions.” His tone warned her that this was no social visit. She backed slowly into the room as he closed the door behind him.
It took him less than five minutes to get her answers to his questions. He left Diane Murdo white-faced and incredulous. He didn’t know how he felt himself, angry or sorry, but he jabbed the lift button viciously.
Green, Hill and Brant stood close together in Huth’s office, not talking. Masters came in heavily. He said: “Ring Superintendent Bale. Tell him to send another car over straight away.”
“With a warrant?” asked Green.
“Not just yet. Tell him we’ll need one later tonight, but we’ll have to have a session in his office first. Don’t say any more than that, and hurry, please. I want us to be away from here before work stops, and they finish at four on Fridays.”
Hill silently handed Masters a cup of tea. Nobody said anything until Green had finished phoning. Then Green said: “The Super’s coming himself. He’ll be here in ten minutes.”
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“Good. Pack up everything and get it into the car. When Superintendent Bale comes, Green, I want you and Brant to help him. Remember, it’s just for questioning at the moment.”
6
Masters was sitting in Bale’s chair, with his back to the fire. The superintendent joined him. Bale said: “Do you want me here?”
Masters said: “I’d rather you weren’t, but it’s your case. Green will be here taking notes. Too many of us might make certain things more difficult.”
Bale said: “I’ll keep out of it.” He left immediately.
The room was barely furnished. The desk was varnished yellow, the filing cabinets olive drab. The square of carpet, once dark red and patterned, was now an overall grey from overmuch use and the ingrained dust of years. Bale’s few pictures were all framed photographs of former members of the force. Nowhere had he a splash of colour to relieve the monotony of the cream-washed walls. Even the curtains were gravy-coloured. The visitors’ chairs were hard-seated, with spell backs. Masters felt depressed. He knew he shouldn’t have been. He should have been happy at winding up a case so quickly and so successfully.
Green ushered her in and sat her down opposite Masters. Then he took a seat at a smaller table which the station sergeant had sent in specially for him.
Masters looked at her. She gazed back for a moment. Even though all desire for her had now left him, because the thought of it sickened him in these circumstances, he still thought her lovely. The violet eyes still mocked him. She said: “You look much younger than you did the last time I saw you.”
He replied: “I feel older. You’ve put years on me.” For a moment he wanted to reach out and slap her. Call her a silly little bitch! Drive home to her the enormity of her crime, which she seemed to be ignoring. Her eyes seemed to gloat, as if she could guess his thoughts, and found them cause for derision. Then she looked away, opened the handbag on her lap, took out a folded handkerchief and blew her nose gently. He could smell the perfume. Unobtrusive perfume. Probably some Huth had bought her.
He said: “You’re not under arrest. You’re here of your own free will for questioning. Do you understand?”
“All except the free will bit.”
“Before I begin, do you want to ring a solicitor?”
“What for?”
“Please don’t be flippant. I strongly suspect you of murdering Mr Huth. What we are about to discuss now, together with the evidence I already have, will determine what action Superintendent Bale takes after we’ve finished. If you feel you want legal advice, please say so, now. Inspector Green is recording the fact that I am making you this offer.”
She said: “I don’t think you can have any evidence against me, otherwise you’d have arrested me already.”
Masters said: “For God’s sake, woman!”
She turned to Green. “Do you know what evidence he has?”
Green said: “No, I don’t. But I’m sure he’s got it if he says he has. And he won’t be trying to trap you.”
She said: “Before I consent to answer your questions, I want to know what evidence it is you have against me.”
“It’s unusual, but look at these.” Masters showed her a request card for phenobarbitone and an internal indent for non-scheduled drugs. “Will these satisfy you?”
She stared for a moment, without making any attempt to touch them where they lay on the desk turned towards her. He was watching her face. He imagined it lost a little colour. She looked up at him and said quietly: “It seems I’m in a bit of a mess.”
“I think so, and I’m glad you’ve realized it for yourself. Shall we go ahead now?”
She nodded.
Two hours later, Green escorted her from the room. Masters stayed at the desk, writing, for another hour.
Dear Superintendent Bale,
When you called me in to investigate the death of Adam Huth, you said you would need a lot of convincing that his death was not murder. The official report will show that he died as the result of the wilful action of the person you now hold in custody, accused of murder. The case is yours, and I cannot suggest how you should interpret the evidence. But before the accused appears before the special sitting tomorrow morning, I should like you to read my account of the investigation and the conclusions I have come to.
I was faced with the problems of finding the killer of an able but kind and shy man. I had to accomplish two things. Find somebody who disliked him enough to kill him; and find some weakness in his character which would cause somebody not only to hope for his death, but actually to bring it about.
There was only one person — March — who admitted a dislike of Huth; and this dislike, though it had apparently genuine grounds, was based on a misunderstanding of policy instigated by Huth in the best interests of his workers. Even to March, Huth showed understanding and kindness by promoting him to a high position in the Company. There were two others who had grounds to hate Huth, although they never admitted to it. The first was the Company Pharmacist, who had just been dismissed — again, according to Huth’s lights, in the best interests of the man. The second was Mrs Huth, who obviously recognized the inadequacy of her marriage, but who nevertheless insisted that her husband treated her with great understanding and kindness.
I encountered March very late on in the investigation, when I was virtually sure who the killer was. Even so, I considered him carefully, but his temperament convinced me that he would use his tongue to settle a quarrel rather than any other means. This conclusion was reinforced in my mind by the fact that March was a very efficient research chemist, unlikely to resort to using a very inefficient poison to polish off a victim. By this time I had realized that phenobarbitone, in the dosage I thought it was possible to administer to Huth, was not a sure killer. Miss Blake, the pharmacist, had made this quite clear some days before when she said that medical textbooks quoted examples of people surviving really massive doses of this drug. This evidence gave me one of my import ant leads. I believed the killer to be somebody with only a small, superficial knowledge of drugs and their activity.
Also, I excluded Dieppe, on the grounds that he was too knowledgeable a pharmacist to use phenobarbitone. It was clear to me from the beginning that whoever killed Huth must have known the victim was currently taking a course of Nutidal treatment. I satisfied myself that Dieppe did not know this and, additionally, it appeared evident that Dieppe could never have brought himself into such close contact with Huth as the killer had need to do. I read Dieppe as the sort of man who, having been dismissed by Huth, would try to keep out of sight of his persecutor rather than encounter him.
Mrs Huth was always a possibility, with a big motive and, possibly, a hidden grievance. I bore her in mind throughout, but at no point did I find one tangible piece of evidence that suggested she had murdered her husband. My impression of her was of a candid, forthright woman whose integrity was apparent at both our interviews.
There were, of course, other possible suspects. Dr Mouncer knew Huth was taking Nutidal, but here again I would have expected a physician of Mouncer’s calibre to use a more subtle, surer poison than phenobarbitone. There were no other grounds for suspicion other than the possible motive of stepping into Huth’s shoes. My enquiries satisfied me that Mouncer knew he would not get the appointment, and that he would have refused it had it been offered to him.
Miss Krick, as you suggested, could also be considered as a suspect. But her ingenuous attitude, combined with a story that dovetailed reasonably no matter what tests I put it to, convinced me that this woman had neither the knowledge nor the temperament to murder her chief. I am, however, grateful to Miss Krick for her transparent simplicity. The fact that she had, from time to time, been seduced by Huth, gave me the first sign of a lead in the case.
Huth’s character was apparently without blemish. But he had enjoyed the favours of his rather pathetic P.A. on half a dozen occasions, at times when a man in Huth’s position, and with his apparent reputation, would have con
sidered the girl to be under his protection, as an employee obliged by circumstances to attend conferences with him. It seemed strange to me that a man like Huth, with so much to lose by a scandal, should risk so much for so little, unless he were subject to an unconquerable urge. I appeared to be thinking along the right lines when I asked Miss Murdo if she had ever met Huth socially. The question embarrassed her to such an extent that I later questioned her closely as to the reason for this reaction. I learned that Huth had made an attempt to seduce her, too. It seemed fair to suppose that Huth’s occasional lapses with Miss Krick and his attempt with Miss Murdo would not have satisfied him, and that I should, therefore, consider whether he had not a regular mistress.
If I was right, and Huth had an outsize libido, I had found the flaw in his character. Mrs Huth confirmed that she had never — not for want of trying — been able to satisfy her husband’s sexual demands. She did not go as far as saying that her husband was a lustful man, but she did comment on the fact that though he was still virile, he made no excessive demands on her during the period of her change of life.
Up until that time, two years before his death, he and his wife had apparently managed to get along successfully, even with the marital difficulties of two unequally matched partners to frustrate them. I believe Huth did his damnedest to remain faithful to his wife until then, and as far as I know succeeded in doing so. Don’t forget that he was a good man in all other respects, even though some of his kindnesses seemed to emerge more in his own favour than that of others. But when his wife approached the menopause and the situation changed for the worse from his point of view, he made his choice. He decided virtually to opt out of the marriage bed — out of kindness to his wife — and to allow his libido free rein elsewhere.
At this point I think I should say that I don’t think Huth was a lecher. He had unrequited sexual desire, but I am doubtful if anybody other than his wife and mistresses knew it. Dr Mouncer told me that Huth even disliked dirty stories. I have made inquiries into the causes of libido. There are various theories, most of which suggest that those who suffer from it can be regarded as almost permanently under the influence of a self-produced aphrodisiac. The chemistry of their bodies is simply too androgenic: too many male hormones.
Masters and Green Series Box Set Page 18
