Bitter Water

by Douglas Clark

  “Yes.”

  “I’d read up about Lidar.”

  “What the devil’s that?”

  “Heard of Radar, haven’t you? Well Lidar is along the same lines, but it is Light Detection and Ranging.”

  “Using what? A laser beam?” asked Masters.

  “That’s right. Or infrared beams. Both will do. Now I don’t know much about the basics of electronics, but I didn’t have to for what I wanted. All I had to say was that if they’d put an infrared rotating diode capable of being lowered or raised to the right height on one pole, and a moveable detector on the distant pole, one man could set up his master and then move to the outstation and move his detector until it was dead level with the infrared beam. The detector would give a sound signal when the right height was reached.”

  “I’m with you. One man operating one of these and far more accurately than two men with dumpy levels.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  “There are such instruments already in use,” said Masters.

  “I know that. But I had added refinements. A universal swivel at the infrared transmitter so that it could be used in all directions without moving its pole and the incorporation of a clinometer to give slopes upwards or downwards to the nearest half-second of angle. I thought it would be of use in road building and the like where there are rises and falls in surface levels to be measured and laid.”

  “Too true,” grunted Berger. “Even some stretches of motorway switch and curve like nobody’s business.”

  Carpenter ignored the remark. Instead he went on bitterly: “Some, if not all, of my refinements were incorporated in other makes of leveller before Carlyle’s company produced a prototype.”

  “McRolfe was the designer assigned to the job?”

  “He was.”

  “What made you suppose he had sold your ideas?”

  “I happened to see him lunching with the designer of the firm who brought out the first leveller incorporating my refinements.”

  “You knew the man.”

  “I made it my business to find out who he was when I saw McRolfe had my file on the table and consulted it from time to time as the other chap made notes of the stuff read out to him.”

  “You know it was your file.”

  “It had my logo on it.” He opened a drawer and produced a hardback file. “Shairny green with a red whiting swallowing its tail to make a circle with my name printed round it. Do you think I could mistake that?”

  “I should hardly think so. Shairny green? That’s what that sort of indefinite colour is called, is it?” asked Masters.

  “That’s how we Scots describe it.”

  “Not it,” grunted Green. “Far too bright for shairny.”

  Carpenter asked: “You would know, would you?”

  “I know what shair is. Or shar if you prefer it. It’s cow dung mixed with peat, sometimes with coal dust, to make fuel for the fire. And if that rather nice colour is shairny, I’ll eat my hat.”

  “We use it to describe any indefinite green.”

  “In that case, don’t start calling me Shairny, mate. Or any of you,” growled Green, looking round.

  “Are there any other examples of McRolfe selling secrets that you know of, Mr. Carpenter?” asked Masters.

  “Not definite. Suspicion. On the part of a Mr. Cedric Bush. I met him first at Carlyle’s. He’s a client there. Has been for some years. Creates things for desks. He told me an executive toy he had designed suddenly appeared on the market before Carlyle had perfected the design. He wasn’t best pleased. But he only had suspicions, no proof. But he was unable to convince himself that a second inventor should have hit upon a ball-bearing swinging in an ankh symbol at exactly the same time as he did himself.”

  Masters nodded his understanding of this point.

  “I told Carlyle, you know,” went on Carpenter. “Nearly three months ago.”

  “And?”

  “He listened, because he’s a courteous man. But he thinks a lot of McRolfe as a designer. Has accelerated his position in the firm, after all. So I don’t suppose he did a thing about it. He can’t have done, otherwise McRolfe wouldn’t still be with the company, let alone at his birthday party.”

  “That would certainly seem to be the case.” Masters got to his feet. “Just one question before we go, Mr. Carpenter. When you saw McRolfe in a restaurant with your file, why didn’t you accost him there and then?”

  “Because I didn’t know at that time who the other man was, and for all I knew, it was McRolfe asking the other man for information he might have wanted to help him with the design. Carlyle’s men do have to consult experts in various fields, you know.”

  “Of course. I should have realised that for myself. Thank you, Mr. Carpenter. Our chat has been very useful.”

  As they went down to the car, Tip said: “Gussets, Chief.”

  “Not again,” groaned Berger. “You brought that one up yesterday afternoon.”

  “What is it, petal?” asked Green. “Skirt too tight or something?”

  “The plastic bags,” explained Tip. “The ones that could have been filled with the contaminated water, but which would have to lie flat to be carried on somebody’s person. They would have to be gussetted. Like uniform pockets. To expand but still hold their shape and not just belly out into great spheres.”

  “Go on.”

  As they got into the car, Tip said: “I’ve remembered where I saw just the sort that would do.”

  “Where, Tip?”

  “In Mrs. Carlyle’s kitchen. You remember that afternoon we went to talk to Mrs. Hookham, but when I told Mrs. Carlyle I’d loved her kitchen, I meant it. I had actually looked round.”

  “You saw gussetted bags there.”

  “Yes, Chief. But a special sort. She has her freezer in an alcove, and on a shelf she has piles of freezer bags and one of those heat sealers.”

  “Go on.”

  “The bags were of different sizes, of course. They were all gussetted, but the smallest ones—those about the size of a paperback book—were not only gussetted, they were divided in two down the middle. And they were made of heavy material.”

  “Two bags in one, you mean?”

  “That’s it, Chief.”

  “Why would they be like that, Tip?”

  “I don’t honestly know, Chief, but have you seen those ice-making bags? They are just one big bag separated into about two dozen diamond-shaped sections. When they’re full of water and ready to hang in the freezer they still retain their shape.”

  “I’ve seen them. I think Wanda uses circular ones.”

  “I think heavy plastic, gussetted and divided small bags would hold a lot of water, Chief, but still lie flat enough to go into a pocket without being too noticeable.”

  “I feel sure you are right, Tip. We shall be going down into Kent to see Mr. Carlyle. Make sure you get a sample of the bags, discover where they are to be bought, and then test them full of water.”

  “Right, Chief.”

  “Now that’s settled,” said Green, “could we get to the Yard so’s I can have a cup of coffee? That old Scotsman was too damn mean to offer us one and I’m fair clammed.”

  “I think he was going to offer us coffee,” said Berger from the driving seat.

  “Why didn’t he then?”

  “You brassed him off by calling his file covers the colour of cow dung mixed with peat. And no wonder you’re clammed, either, the amount you had to say about it.”

  Hugh Carlyle had said he would be at home in Kent by four o’clock or soon after that afternoon. Masters and his team arrived before him. Margot, warned of their coming, had tea and buttered scones waiting for them.

  “Is it something important, George?” she asked.

  He smiled at her. “Please don’t worry about it.”

  “Meaning it is something serious.”

  “For us, yes, but I hope not for you. Now, Margot, I would like you to take Tip and me into your kitchen.”
>
  “Whatever for?”

  “I’d like to look at something.”

  Bewildered, Margot led the way. Mrs. Hookham and Freda were both working, the older woman pressing sheets on a large table-ironer, the younger doing the hand ironing on a board. Both looked up when they saw the newcomers.

  “Mrs. H., the Chief Superintendent wishes to have a look round.”

  “Inspect my kitchen? Whatever for? He’ll find nothing here.”

  “Freezer bags, actually,” said Masters.

  “Oh. Whatever do you want them for?”

  “Over here, Chief,” said Tip, edging past Freda and being careful to step over the electric lead to her iron.

  The alcove was white-tiled to the ceiling. The large chest freezer stood within it, with a foot to spare at each end where, above the height required for opening the lid, shelves had been placed to take plastic lidded boxes, sealer, and two or three heaps of plastic bags.

  “These are the ones, Chief.” Tip took a couple of the bags from the smallest pile.

  “Ask Mrs. Hookham if you could fill one from the tap, please.”

  While Tip moved away to perform this task, Margot asked: “What is it, George? Are the bags important in some way?”

  “They could be, Margot. I’ll explain a little later.”

  Tip came back. “There you are, Chief. Divided down the middle for strength so that they’ll hold shape. And apart from the side and bottom gussets they are self-sealing. You just have to press the two top ends together.” Tip showed how a single thick line of plastic on one side could be forced between two others that made a crevasse on the other. “I don’t think this seal would be quite safe enough, Chief, but a little run of safety glue between the two protruding bits would make it fully watertight.”

  “Thank you.” Masters took the almost flat bag from Tip and carefully slid it, first into a side pocket of his jacket, and then into the inside breast pocket. Tip stood back and regarded him critically.

  “Nobody would know, Chief. At least they would only think you’d got a fat wallet in your inside pocket and as for the side pocket, well, it is certainly no fuller-looking than when you are carrying a tin of tobacco in there.”

  “Good.” Masters removed the bag, watched all the time by Mrs. H. and Freda.

  “Can you tell me where you buy these particular bags?” asked Masters.

  “We don’t,” said Mrs. Hookham. “Mr. Carlyle keeps us supplied.”

  Masters turned to Margot. “He buys them in town?”

  “No. They come from the office. Hugh carries stocks of all manner of bags and packing materials of very good quality. You see his despatch department has to send out a great variety of machined parts, some quite small, which mustn’t be allowed to get rusty or dirty. These particular ones are used for small shafts made of steel, or specially made bolts and their necessary bits and pieces. You’d be quite surprised at what they turn out or have specifically made and each one is, more or less, a one-off item.”

  “I see.”

  “Hugh said he couldn’t see why Mrs. H. should have to go to the trouble of buying-in freezer bags of a much inferior quality when he was knee deep in them in his store. So he keeps us supplied.”

  “I use them little ’uns for bits and pieces mostly,” said Mrs. H. “Nothing’s wasted in this house. Even a bit of leftover veg, like a few peas or bits of carrot, is sealed in these little bags an’ kept for when I’m making soup. In the old days it would have been into the stockpot with them, but this way’s easier and cleaner. I even keep the drops of gravy we have left over, don’t I, Freda?”

  Masters smiled at her. “You blend them all together and get Brown Windsor, do you?”

  “Brown Windsor, Green Windsor, Red Windsor, I make them all.”

  “And very good they are, too,” said Margot.

  “I’m sure they are. Now, Mrs. Hookham, when you picked up some pieces of plastic that your husband had put on the side of the pool when he was cleaning it out that Sunday morning, could they have possibly been the remains of one or two of these particular little bags?”

  “They could have been, but I can’t say I noticed.”

  “Why?” asked Tip, gently.

  “All sopping wet and mucky they were.”

  “Mucky? With bits of food that had fallen into the pool?”

  “I don’t know what it were, but it was that sticky, I could hardly get it off my hands. The plastic, I mean. Then I had to come in and use the pan scourer to get it off my fingers.”

  Tip smiled at her. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” She turned to Masters. “All these instant superglues soften in water, Chief.”

  Masters nodded his understanding of the point she had made. Her idea that the flaps above the closures on the bags would have been sealed with superglue seemed to be borne out. It was also a fair assumption to suppose that since such bags had been readily available on Carlyle’s company premises, that was the likely source of the murderer’s supply.

  Margot led them back to the sitting room.

  “Any joy, Chief?” asked Berger.

  “ ’Course there’s joy, lad,” grunted Green. “Look at that girlie’s physog. All smiles. And bright eyes, too, which shows she hit the coconut when she first saw those bags in the kitchen and associated them with the dirty trickster.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand anything of what’s being said,” complained Margot. “Isn’t somebody going to enlighten me?”

  “Could it wait a bit?” asked Masters. “Until Hugh arrives? Then we won’t have to go through it all twice.”

  “Of course. But I’m all agog to know how freezer bags from my kitchen could possibly cause Carla Sanders to die.”

  “Not from your kitchen, Mrs. Carlyle,” said Tip, by way of comfort. “We are positive they came from your husband’s packaging department.”

  “How?” asked Margot.

  “Later, please,” said Masters. “If I’m not mistaken, here’s Hugh.”

  ***

  They were all sitting round the low table. Margot was pouring tea. Hugh was using a tray clipped onto the arm of his wheelchair to take his cup.

  “Come on then, George. Let’s have it. Or have you just come down to enjoy Mrs. H.’s scones?”

  “Hardly, Hugh, delicious though they are.” Masters put down his cup and looked directly at his host.

  “Mr. Ian Carpenter is of the impression that, after he had complained to you about unprofessional conduct on the part of Andrew McRolfe, you took no action whatsoever.”

  “I wouldn’t have told Carpenter if I had. It wouldn’t do to let all our clients know every time I had to undertake some disciplinary action in the office.”

  “Not even to satisfy a customer who had a very serious complaint?”

  Carlyle laughed. “Very serious? Ian Carpenter had no proof. No proof that would have been accepted in any court of law, for instance, which is where the business might have landed up had I acted on what he told me and dismissed McRolfe.”

  “So you didn’t believe him?”

  “I believed him all right. He’s a canny Scot and straight as a die. Yes, I believed him. Believed, that is, that he believed what he told me to be true.”

  “But you were not convinced?”

  “I was convinced, actually.”

  “You were?”

  “Yes. I’d been harbouring the odd suspicion against McRolfe, myself. For some little time, in fact. But I had no certain proof, George, nor could I get it. Carpenter’s story fuelled my own suspicions, but it wasn’t big enough to start a bonfire under McRolfe.” He picked up his cup and sipped at it while his listeners waited. Then he continued. “Besides, I didn’t want my suspicions to be confirmed, dammit.”

  “No?”

  “For one thing it would have been bloody bad for the firm—my firm—which is based largely on trust. And for another, Andrew McRolfe was as good a designer as I’d ever had. Men as good as he is are hard to come by. I didn�
��t want to lose him.”

  “Not even at the expense of losing clients?”

  Carlyle’s mood seemed to change and he again laughed aloud. “I’d never run the risk of losing a client for anybody. Not if I could help it. Desertion by clients could start to snowball. Word soon gets around in the trade, you know.”

  Masters nodded. “That would seem to suggest to me that you did take some action after hearing Carpenter’s complaint, despite trying to give us the opposite impression. What steps did you take?”

  Carlyle grinned. “The only ones I could take in the circumstances. I had young McRolfe in and roasted him.”

  “Bawled him out?”

  “Nothing like that. Told him that I was convinced there had been hints of recent security leaks from the Design Department. I didn’t accuse him, directly. I didn’t accuse anybody specifically. But I left him first in no doubt that if I did discover who was responsible that man would never again get a similar post in British industry. Second, that he, as manager of the department, would carry the can. Third, I left him in no doubt that, though I hadn’t said so specifically, I considered he was the culprit and would not only carry the can, but would also, from henceforward, carry his own bloody head under his own bloody arm. After that I kicked him out and told him to get on with his work.”

  “Darling, you never said anything of this to me,” protested Margot.

  “Why should I, Mags? Nothing to do with you. Business matters.” He laughed. “Besides, it was only a ten-minute storm in the office.”

  “Which you forgot to mention to Carpenter,” said Masters.

  “Which I studiously refrained from mentioning to Carpenter. Carlyle’s business is Carlyle’s business.”

  “Quite. But that wasn’t the end of it, was it, Hugh?”

  “What do you mean, George? The subject has never been mentioned again between McRolfe and me and he’s still beavering away in my drawing office.”

  Masters stared at him for a moment.

  “When did the anonymous letters start to arrive, Hugh?”

  “What anonymous letters?”

  “Hugh,” said Masters sharply, “stop trying to fence with me. I know you’ve had a number of anonymous letters recently.”

  “They’ve stopped now.”