by Roger Keevil
“And I'm very glad you are,” said Constable. “Another professional pair of eyes won't do any harm at all in looking at this case. Maybe you can fill us in on some more details about yesterday.”
“In fact, inspector, I wasn't supposed to be here at all yesterday, because I was taking a day off.”
“But the way you say that makes me believe that you in fact were around.”
“Oh, not during the day, but then, I don't suppose that makes much of a difference, because what happened to Wally took place later, from what I gather. No, I arrived later, because we're just testing a new security system, with sensors and concealed cameras and so on.” She smiled. “It may sound all very cloak-and-dagger, but there is a lot of industrial espionage in the confectionery business, with manufacturers wanting to steal a march on their rivals over new products and so on. Anyway, we've been using this freelance company to devise the system, and Wally Winker called me and asked me to come in after hours and be an intruder, just to test how it was working. I got in at about six, I suppose, but at that time, pretty much everyone on this side of the plant was around, so it was all a bit pointless.”
“And presumably you saw Mr. Winker during the course of your visit.”
“Oh yes. We spoke in his office, because I wanted to point out to him that I wouldn't actually be able to do what he had in mind, and then I had a few words with the I.T. guy, but after that I just mooched about, really, until I finally decided that there was absolutely no point in my hanging around any longer, so I went home.”
“And have you any ideas about other people's movements?” enquired Constable.
“Not really,” said Heidi. “Of course, I was rather hoping that there wouldn't be anyone about at all. But there may be something on the CCTV, that's if it was up and running by then. You'll have to ask Mike, except that I haven't seen him today.”
“Mike?”
“Mike Rowe, the freelance I.T. chap we're using.”
“CCTV could certainly be helpful, if there is any, guv,” pointed out Copper. “Might save us a lot of chasing about.”
“Can we get hold of this Mr. Rowe?” asked Constable.
“I'll see if I can reach him,” said Heidi, producing a phone from her jacket pocket. “Being freelance, he's a bit here and there, and you never know when you've got him, but I'll see what I can do. That's if there's nothing else?”
“Only to wonder if you might be aware,” said Constable, “given your position with the company, of anyone who might have an interest in doing Mr. Winker harm.”
Heidi laughed quietly. “Over and above the usual office politics, I can't really imagine it, inspector. I think if you ask anyone, you'll find that they all say that Mr. Winker was a very good employer.” She smiled. “If that's it, I'll go and see if I can track down Mike Rowe.”
“And we,” countered Constable, “will go and find out what is happening down at the gate. Please keep me posted.” He turned and led the way out of the boardroom and down the stairs.
*
At the gatehouse booth at the entrance to the car park, Barry Herman stood at his post wearing an expression of mulish obstinacy, confronting a mild-looking bespectacled man in his thirties holding a briefcase. The young uniformed officer stood close by, looking slightly apprehensive.
“Ah, here he is!” cried Barry triumphantly. “Ask him, if you don't believe me. He'll tell you you can't go in. Inspector, I've told him what's happened, but he still ...”
Constable took charge. “Thank you, Mr. Herman. I think you can safely leave this to us.” He turned to the newcomer. “I'm Detective Inspector Constable, sir – this is my colleague Sergeant Copper. I gather you're wishing to gain access to the factory, sir, which at the moment is restricted, being a crime scene. So perhaps you'd like to tell me why. And who you are.”
The man produced a business card from a top pocket. “My name is Rowe – Mike Rowe.” Constable perused the card – Michael Rowe, Managing Director, Mike Rowe Systems, he read. “And I have a contract with the Winker Chocolate Company to carry out some very confidential work of a highly sensitive nature.”
“Mr. Rowe!” the inspector exclaimed genially. “You are the very man we need. In fact, we have just been talking about you with the company's Head of Security, who is I believe trying to get in touch with you as we speak.” As if on cue, the music of a mobile ringtone sounded from the businessman's pocket. “So do please answer that.”
“Hello … yes, I'm actually here at the gate … yes, I would, if they'd let me in. There's a police inspector here asking me questions.”
“Mr. Rowe,” interrupted Constable, “as you've been vouched for in advance, as it were, by Miss Lockett, I think we can let you go through. And we'll want to speak to you, but I dare say that will be no problem.”
“Hello, Heidi … yes, they say I can come in. I'll be up in a minute.” Mike Rowe climbed into his car and looked expectantly at Barry Herman.
“Mr. Herman, perhaps if you would ...” prompted Dave Copper.
“Oh … er … right. Yes, of course.” With an embarrassed look, Barry pushed the button in his booth and the barrier rose on cue. “Sorry about that, gents, but I wasn't to know ...”
The inspector brushed his excuses aside. “Never mind about that now, Mr. Herman. I'm more concerned with the events of yesterday leading up to Mr. Winker's unfortunate death. So perhaps we can concentrate on your movements in that context. Sergeant,” he said over his shoulder, “if you weren't already planning to do so, it might be useful to make a few notes.”
“Already on it, guv,” replied Dave Copper, notebook at the ready.
“Now I think you said,” pursued Constable, “when we first spoke, that you were on night duty yesterday.”
“That's right.” Barry now seemed eager to help, in order to make up for his former unhelpfulness. “I was on duty here at the factory gate yesterday evening.”
“Which factory do you mean?” asked Copper. “You've got two.”
“Ah. Well, you see, there's what we call the factory, which is the original building this side of the road, and there's what we call the plant, which is the new one over there. And there's the two gatehouses, one for each. Now, the one the other side closes down just after five-thirty, because that's when the plant goes home, so you haven't got any more lorries and what-not going in and out and the car park that side is clear. So whoever is on at night stays this side, so they can just keep an eye on both. Do you see what I mean?” Barry looked up hopefully to make sure his explanation was being followed.
“I think that's all quite clear,” Constable reassured him. “So your shift started when exactly?”
“I got here just before five-thirty and took over from my oppo.”
“And, I presume, nothing untoward at that stage.”
“No, not a thing. So then my mate went off, and I was left here on my own.”
“So that would mean that you monitor all the comings and goings through this gate after that. And you can stop anyone going through, as you did with Mr. Rowe.”
“Ah, well, it's not as simple as that, inspector. You see, all the management staff who work on this side have got their own key cards for this barrier. You see that little post there with the box on top of it?” Barry pointed to a small installation alongside the barrier. “Because the management are coming and going at all hours sometimes, they put that in, so I don't have to be here to push my little button. They just put their card in the slot, and up goes the pole, and they can get in or out whenever they want. That was one of Carson's ideas, and it makes my job a lot easier.”
“And is the to-ing and fro-ing monitored?” put in Copper. “I mean, can you tell who goes through and when?”
“No,” replied Barry. “I think it's going to be, with this new system, but it doesn't do it now.”
“Then we shall have to rely on good old observation, Mr. Herman,” said Constable breezily. “So, if you were here as of five-thirty, what can you tell
us about any movements in or out?”
“I saw Heidi come in just before six – that's Heidi Lockett, my boss. She said something about checking up on security, so I thought 'Thanks a lot – what am I for?'. I was a bit miffed, to tell you the honest truth, so I didn't really pay too much attention to her.”
“So then what? Do you have a particular routine?”
“I usually do a bit of a prowl around the offices about six. It all depends on whether there's anyone around or not – sometimes if they've all gone and it's all closed up, I leave it till a bit later.”
“And yesterday?”
“I did my normal six o'clock rounds.”
“And do you usually check in all the offices?”
“Well, yes and no. I mean, it's not as if they're all actual separate offices as such. Some of it's sort of open plan, with big screens and plants, and some of them are partitioned off with doors, but I don't really know why they bothered, because Mr. Winker had this what he called 'open door policy', so everything is usually open all the time anyway, so you can hear what goes on as you pass people's desks, even if you can't see them.”
“So effectively there are no separate offices at all?”
“Apart from Mr. Winker's, of course. With him, it was more a case of 'do what I say, not what I do'. He kept his door well closed, and apart from the big bosses, if anyone else wanted to see him, they had to go through Candy.”
“Yes, we've seen that Miss Kane has her own room off to the side,” observed Constable. “So there were in fact two ways into Mr. Winker's office.”
“Three, sir,” Copper corrected him. “Don't forget he had his own private stairs down to the factory floor.”
“True, sergeant. I'd forgotten that. Thank you for the reminder. So, Mr. Herman, to resume our virtual tour, you were up in the office corridor, having got as far as Miss Kane's room.”
“That's right, inspector. And she came out with the post as I got there, and just then Carson came up and tapped on Mr. Winker's door, and as he went in, he said 'I need to talk to you about those papers', and then the door closed, so that was that.”
“So then what? Did you carry on with your rounds? Did you see any of the other members of staff?”
“I did,” confirmed Barry. “Well, not so much saw as heard. And here's a thing that might be useful to you. You see, I was coming past Ivor Sweetman's section, and I heard him and Bernie Rabbetts having a right go at one another.”
“And have you any idea what it was about?”
“Oh yes. It's not as if they were bothering to keep their voices down, so you couldn't really call it eavesdropping. Ivor said something about whatever-it-was being 'the latest in a long line of ridiculous ideas', and then Bernie said 'He's not going to listen to her forever, so that's you fixed.' Hammer and tongs, they were going at it.” Barry started to smile at the memory, but then recollected himself and assumed a serious expression. “It's not what you expect of management, is it?” he said sententiously.
“So that's Mr. Sweetman and Mr. Rabbetts you've seen,” said Constable, ticking them off on his fingers, “plus Miss Kane, and of course Mr. Laurie ...”
“Right.” Barry snapped his fingers as a further thought occurred to him. “That's another thing. I was just starting off back downstairs, and Carson came out of Mr. Winker's office as Heidi was coming along the corridor, and he looked a bit surprised to see her and said 'What are you doing here?', I suppose because she was meant to be off yesterday, and she said 'Finished with Wally? Good. My turn. I'll see you downstairs later', and then she knocked on Mr. Winker's door and went in, and I carried on with my rounds, and then I came back here and put the kettle on for a cup of tea.”
“Which could be very helpful, Mr. Herman, if it enables you to tell us what time people left the premises.”
“Right.” Barry gave it a moment's thought. “Ivor Sweetman and Candy Kane were the first to leave the car park – I remember that. He always gives her a lift. In fact,” he continued in tones of heavy meaning, “I don't think there's much they don't do together, if you catch my drift.” He winked.
“I think we understand,” said Constable, since a reaction was obviously expected.
“I think it's very funny,” resumed Barry, “because they think it's such a big secret, and I reckon practically everybody knows. Well, except for his wife and her boss.”
“Yes, I've noticed how everybody usually manages to know everything in any organisation, except for the person at the top,” observed Constable wryly. “So you believe that Mr. Winker was kept in ignorance of this … arrangement? Any particular reason?”
“I don't think it would have gone down too well with Mr. Winker at all, if you want my opinion.”
“We do know that Mr. Sweetman is a married man, sir,” pointed out Copper.
“Exactly,” nodded Barry. “Now me, I don't point the finger, because what people do in their private lives is up to them. But I reckon Mr. Winker would have seen it differently, what with the religious family background and all. Funny how religion and chocolate seem to go together, isn't it?”
“How's that?” queried Copper, baffled.
“It's perfectly true, sergeant,” said Constable, “although I have to confess the thought had never occurred to me before. Yes, you've got that other big Midlands family in this industry, and there's that large firm up in York, so there seems to be a distinct puritanical streak running through the entire confectionery business. I can see how a relationship between Mr. Sweetman and Miss Kane might be a delicate topic. Anyway, I think we're straying from the point a little. Mr. Herman, you were telling us when people left the premises.”
“I think Bernie Rabbetts left just after those two, and then Trixie, but I'm not absolutely sure. You see, it got a bit chilly after a while, so I was sat inside with the door shut with my cup of tea and something to eat. I always have a bit of snap around half past seven – helps the evening go by. But I know they were all gone by eight o'clock, apart from Mr. Winker's car, but he's very often still there when I knock off at ten o'clock anyway, so I didn't really think anything of it. I just thought 'Cor, he's the boss, and he's still not gone home yet'.” Barry paused as a thought struck him. “Well, he won't be going home now, will he?”
*
Constable and Copper stood in the foyer of the factory building, watching overall-clad members of the forensic team as they carried the plastic-shrouded form of Wally Winker out towards their vehicle, overseen by the doctor.
“We're off, Andy,” announced the doctor. “I've done all I can here, so we'll get him back to my guest suite and see if there's anything new to discover under the candy coating.” He consulted his watch. “With a bit of luck, I might even make it back in time for elevenses.”
“Presumably you'll be giving the chocolate biscuits a miss today,” smiled Constable.
“And I thought the ghoulish jokes in the face of death were my province,” retorted the doctor good-humouredly. “I'll be in touch.” The foyer door closed behind him.
“Happy to carry on, guv,” asked Copper, “or do we want to wait for the doctor's report?”
“I don't suppose it'll tell us much we don't already know,” answered Constable, “so we may as well carry on here while we've got everybody on the premises, rather than traipsing to and fro to the station. I'm quite exercised by the possibility that there may be some CCTV footage from this security system of theirs, so let's go and see Mr. Rowe, if we can find him.”
At the head of the stairs, the detectives were met by the bustling figure of Val Hart carrying two cups and saucers. She looked at them reproachfully.
“Now look, dears, here's those cups of tea I made for you, and you never even touched them. Too late now, because they've gone stone cold, but I dare say you've been busy, so I'll tell you what, I'll make a nice fresh pot and bring some new ones along to you. Going back to Mr. Winker's office, are you? Well, you just go and sit yourselves down in there, dears, and I'll be along in two s
hakes of a lamb's tail.”
“Very kind of you, Mrs. Hart,” said the inspector, slightly intimidated by the older woman's determination. “But can I just ask, would you leave out the sugar this time?”
“Well, if you think so, dear.” Val sounded highly dubious. “I'm sure you know best. And I expect your boy here is probably watching his waistline, isn't he? Right, shan't be a mo.” And she trundled away, leaving a slightly bemused Dave Copper in her wake, muttering 'Cheek!' under his breath.
Andy Constable failed to subdue his amusement. “There you are, sergeant – I told you all those pies in the station canteen would catch up with you in the end. Salads for you from now on, and I think I may be forced to deny you any of those biscuits from Mr. Winker's secret stash.”
In Wally Winker's office, the newspaper still lay spread open on the desk. “Shall I clear this away, guv?” asked Copper.
“Yes, do. Although hold on a second. Candy Kane said Winker liked to keep up with the local news. Let's see what was interesting him yesterday.”
Copper browsed the page swiftly. “Mostly human interest stuff, by the look of it. There's a story about a three-legged dog which ran the local half-marathon – oh, look at that picture. There's something about fears of job losses at the town’s Job Centre. Oh, and some Scottish bloke's caused a row because he says the more water you put in your whisky, the better it tastes ...”
“Man must be mad,” commented Constable, taking the chair behind the desk.
“Other than that, it's just the weekly reports from the local magistrates court. Hey ...” Copper took a closer look. “I wonder if they've got that case last week where I got called to give evidence ...”
“No time for that now,” Constable interrupted him. “You can catch up with reading about your fifteen minutes of fame on another occasion. At the moment, we have better things to do.”
“Righty-ho, guv,” replied Copper, not at all chastened, and folding up the newspaper. “Aha! What have we here?”
