by Roger Keevil
“So back round to everyone, slam them into a chair with a bright light shining in their eyes, and bark difficult questions at them until someone cracks? Is that the plan, guv?”
Constable smiled indulgently. “We could try that technique, sergeant, but I think it would get us into a spot of trouble with the Police Complaints Commission. On balance, we'd better stick to the rule book and ask nicely. You're the one who reads the detective fiction – hasn't your Belgian hero got a saying about catching more flies with sweetness than with vinegar?”
“Enough sweetness round here to catch a whole gang of flies,” remarked Copper.
“Then come along, and we shall see if we can add some light to it.” Constable rose to his feet and headed back towards the foyer.
At the head of the stairs, he almost collided with Trixie Marr as she emerged from her office.
“Ah, Miss Marr. Just the person we wanted to see. Might we have a word?”
A light of alarm came into Trixie's eyes. “Er … of course, inspector.” She looked around. Nobody was in sight. “Do you want to come in?” She turned and led the way back to her desk, seating herself behind it, indicating chairs for the detectives, and playing unconsciously with a pen lying in front of her. “How can I help you?”
“Miss Marr,” began Constable, “we've had a number of conversations with a number of people, and the impression we're getting is that there were several … shall we say, undercurrents existing in certain people's relationships in this company. Some of these seem to have come to the surface during the meetings which Mr. Winker had with the various members of staff during the crucial period leading up to his death yesterday. But one which hasn't is yours. We know you went to see Mr. Winker. We also know that you were seen on the factory floor during the period in question. So, Miss Marr, I think we would find it helpful to know what you and Mr. Winker were discussing, and how it affected this company.”
“It didn't, inspector. You have my word.”
Constable smiled faintly. “I think I'm going to need a little more than that, Miss Marr.”
Trixie closed her eyes for a moment and sighed deeply, but then seemed to reach a decision. “Very well, inspector. The truth. The reason I wanted to talk to Wally last night was because I'd come to the end of my tether. I knew he thought I hadn't been up to the job lately, but I wanted him to know the real reason.”
“Which was …?” prompted Constable gently.
“I'd had something preying on my mind.” A pause. “It was about my daughter.”
“So, you have a daughter, Miss Marr.” The inspector was careful to keep his tone neutral. “But I still don't see what relevance this has to Mr. Winker. Unless ...”
“No, not what you're thinking, Mr. Constable,” said Trixie firmly. “Nothing like that. In fact, nothing to do with Winker's at all. I've always kept my work and my private life well apart. I don't even think anyone here was aware that I have a daughter. The father was someone I used to know – a married man I'd worked with, and we met up again by chance, and … well, I'm sure I don't need to draw you a picture. But the point was, someone here had found out.”
“And this person would be …?” Constable suspected that he might know the answer.
“I won't tell you who,” said Trixie. “I daren't. But the point was, I was afraid for my job, what with Wally and his famous morality, so I'd paid this person to keep quiet. But yesterday, I'd had some problems with production, and suddenly it all got too much for me, so I went to see Wally in order to make a clean breast of the matter.”
“And how did Mr. Winker react.”
Trixie gave a watery smile. “I couldn't believe it. He said he would finish the whole thing.”
“What did you take him to mean by that?”
“He didn't have a chance to say. Someone else knocked at his door just then, so he told me to go down his private stairs and wait on the factory floor so that I could tell him about the problems I was having with production. That's why I was down there. But I didn't see him after that. I waited for a while, but he'd obviously been held up or distracted, so in the end I went home. And now I'll never know whether he ...” She tailed off and sighed again. “Well, anyway, that's all I can tell you. And now goodness knows what will happen.”
*
Ivor Sweetman raised his head as the two detectives entered his office.
“Yes, inspector? Is there something else I can help you with?” The offer was perfunctory – it was obvious that Ivor was far more intent on dealing with the mound of papers on the desk in front of him. “As you can see, I do have a great deal to do.”
“Then we shall try not to take up too much of your time,” replied Andy Constable in soothing tones, taking a seat across the desk from Ivor without waiting for an invitation. “But, you see, we are still in something of a quandary as regards identifying who might have a motive for wishing Mr. Winker harm. And I thought perhaps that you, as a very senior member of staff, might be able to shed some light on some of the personalities in the firm, and perhaps their relationships.”
“Relationships?” echoed Ivor uneasily. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, merely the day-to-day working relationships between colleagues,” said Constable, smiling blandly. “For instance, I take it that you and Mr. Winker were always on the best of terms? No causes of friction at all?” He waited.
Ivor seemed to come to a conclusion. “Very well, inspector. You've obviously heard something, although I can't imagine what. But yes, I am, as you describe it, a very senior member of staff, and Wally knew that if he tried to make trouble for me, he'd have a fight on his hands. I've got friends on the Board, and I've been here long enough to know how to stir it up if I want to. But there would of course be no cause to do so.”
“Nice bluff,” thought Dave Copper. “Excuse me, inspector,” he said aloud, consulting his notebook, “but is Mr. Sweetman saying that this relationship of his with Miss Candy Kane would not fall into that category?”
“Ah, thank you for the reminder, sergeant,” said Constable. “Mr. Sweetman?” He looked expectantly at the man across the desk.
Ivor cleared his throat. He flushed with embarrassment. “Oh. You know about that, do you?”
“Yes, sir,” responded Constable gently. “And I think we may not be the only ones. And it's possible that this might have led to a confrontation, is it not?”
“But that wouldn't be any reason to … I mean, there's no cause for …” Ivor floundered for a moment, but then marshalled his thoughts. “It would not have come to that, inspector,” he stated firmly. “This business with Candy is just a bit of fun. It's not serious.”
“No, sir?”
“No!” Ivor was emphatic. “Now she might have thought it was – if Wally had found out, she might have lost her job over it, but I can't help that, can I?” He spread his hands in appeal. “I mean, inspector, I'm sure you understand my position. After all, surely we're both men of the world.”
Constable gazed at Ivor steadily for a long moment. His face showed nothing. “And Mr. Winker, sir?” he said eventually. “Was he also a man of the world?”
Ivor let a brief flash of dislike pass across his features. “You should know, inspector, that Wally Winker wasn't quite such a nice man as everybody made out.”
Constable raised an eyebrow. “Would you care to expand on that, sir?”
“I'll just say this, inspector. Why do you suppose that Wally made Heidi Lockett compile a full dossier on everyone? You may not have known that, but take my word for it, he did. And shall I tell you why? It was so that he would have plenty of excuses to sack anyone if he needed to.”
*
“Bit of the cloven hoof showing through there, guv,” murmured Dave Copper as the two left Ivor's office and closed the door behind them.
“Never fails,” replied Andy Constable in similarly lowered tones. “Keep stirring the ants' nest with a stick, and something always emerges.”
“So where are
we stirring next, guv?”
Constable smiled. “Oh, I think at this juncture, a little chat with Miss Kane might be productive.”
“In the light of what we've just heard?” grinned Copper. “Now that, while we're mixing metaphors, is likely to put the cat among the pigeons, guv.”
“Isn't it just?” said Constable, and tapped on the secretary's door.
“Come in.” Candy Kane was seated at her desk applying a fresh coat of lip-gloss with the aid of a small hand-held mirror. She had untied her hair so that it now tumbled loose about her shoulders. The effect was striking.
“Please excuse us if we're interrupting something important,” said the inspector drily.
“Oh, that's all right,” replied Candy. “I haven't started yet. I was just going to begin to get in touch with all the people on Mr. Winker's confidential contacts list to tell them the news, but I thought I'd freshen up a bit first. I suppose we all have to try to carry on as normally as possible, don't we?”
“Life goes on, is that it?” remarked Copper.
Candy dimpled. “Yes, I suppose it does.”
“Except, of course, that for Mr. Winker, it doesn't.” Constable decided to cut short the niceties. “And my job is to find out why. And I'm starting to discover certain facts which show that there are people who might very well have a reason for fearing Mr. Winker because they believed their position could be under threat.”
“I … I don't know what you mean,” said Candy. “I didn't have anything to fear from him.”
Constable sighed. “Please don't take us for fools, Miss Kane. We're starting to learn that, in a place like this, few secrets can be kept for long. And one of the secrets which seems to have been more common gossip than anything else is your relationship with Mr. Sweetman. Several people have pointed out that Mr. Winker's well-known views on personal morality might easily have caused you some difficulty in respect of your affair with a married man. Any comments on that?”
Candy tossed her hair. “Oh well, if you know that ...” She shrugged. “I suppose you're right. Of course I was a little bit worried that things might come out, but then, who wouldn't be? After all, Mr. Winker was very strait-laced – in some ways, anyway – and I don't think he'd have liked the idea that I was seeing Ivor. That's why we kept it such a secret.”
“You think?” muttered Copper in the background.
“But, Miss Kane,” said Constable. “There's a well-known saying about the things you should not do on your own doorstep. Should you not have taken that into account?”
“I know.” Candy smiled helplessly. “But Ivor is such a kind man, and so generous too. He works so hard here, and so he likes to enjoy himself when he's away from the office. He loves taking me out for meals after work and buying me presents and so on. His wife doesn't understand him, you know.”
“Oh dear,” said Constable. He managed to keep a straight face.
“But really,” continued Candy, “even if he had found out about Ivor and me, Mr. Winker was such a lovely man, that I'm sure he wouldn't have said or done anything unpleasant.”
“That's not necessarily what we've heard from everyone,” countered Constable.
“Oh yes,” insisted Candy. “Of course, if he'd felt that he had to give me my notice, I would just have appealed to our old friendship.”
“Old friendship? I didn't realise you'd worked here for that long a time, Miss Kane.”
“Long enough, inspector.” Candy's smile expressed a cat-like satisfaction. “Yes, Mr. Winker and I had what you could very well call an old friendship. In fact, a very close friendship, if you follow me.”
“I think I do, Miss Kane.”
Candy abandoned all pretence. “After all, when you work that closely with a rich and important man, in the end you're bound to develop a certain … what's the word?”
“Intimacy?” suggested Copper.
“If you like, sergeant.” Candy showed no sign of embarrassment. “In that situation, what can you expect? A girl has to look out for herself. So, in fact, there wasn't anything I wouldn't have done for Wally – if you see what I mean. Nor he for me.”
“Even now, Miss Kane?”
Candy shrugged prettily. “Even now.”
*
Back outside in the corridor, Dave Copper breathed a sigh of incredulity. “She's a man-eater!” he hissed. “Looks such a nice girl too.”
“Don't judge a book by its cover,” responded Andy Constable. “And take warning – watch out for nice girls in future.”
“You're not kidding, guv!”
“The question is,” resumed Constable, “is she a man-killer too? She certainly has a ruthless streak to her.”
“Yes, but I can't see her heaving her boss bodily into a vat of chocolate.”
“Remember what the doctor said, sergeant – it wouldn't have taken a lot of force to tip him over, so it could equally well have been a man or a woman. Plus, maybe Winker was actually about to chuck her out, no matter what she says, and hell hath no fury, and so on. Hidden reserves of strength? Don't rule her out.”
“Fine,” said Copper. “So who shan't we rule out next on our list?”
“Here's a thought,” said Constable. “We've heard about nice Mr. Winker, and we've heard about nasty Mr. Winker. Let's redress the balance and give Mr. Nice another hearing.”
“Not with you, guv.”
“Carson Laurie. Another secret revealed, but an unexpectedly happy outcome, according to Val Hart's eavesdroppings. So let's get the man's own version.”
Carson Laurie's office was half-way along the corridor, the door standing open. Carson looked up as the two detectives appeared in his doorway. “Come in, gentlemen. I was thinking you'd be around to see me at some time. Take a seat.”
“Mr. Laurie,” said Constable without preamble, “we've heard that you had a potential problem with Mr. Winker. You've had something of a run-in with the law, haven't you?”
“I … I don't know what you mean.”
“Our colleagues in the Traffic section, sir? A slight matter of speeding? We know that you might have felt yourself to be in jeopardy because of it.”
“But ...” Carson attempted to interrupt.
“But we also know,” the inspector pressed on, “because of a certain conversation which was overheard, that those fears were turning out to be unjustified.”
“I know what you're getting at, Mr. Constable,” said Carson. “You think that, because I might have been having a little … difficulty with the law, that somehow that would give me a reason to murder my boss. I can see that. Look,” he continued, “if you'd come to me yesterday morning and said 'Have you got a motive to kill Wally Winker?', I'd have said 'Sure I have'. Okay, maybe not a very good motive, but when a guy's got worries about losing his job, maybe he doesn't think so straight. But that would have been yesterday, not today. I'd come clean to Wally about this driving thing, and as far as that went, he was fine about it.”
“Which I imagine came as something of a relief.”
“A great relief, inspector, if you want to know. Look, I'll be straight with you. I burnt my boats when I left Satsuma Motors, for reasons which I won't trouble you with. Culture clash, you might say.” Carson's smile held a trace of bitterness. “Some very hard things got said, and it seemed to me that it would be better for me to get as far away from there as soon as I could. In fact, I don't think I've got many friends left on that side of the Atlantic. So when the position here sort of fell into my lap, it seemed like a whole new change for the better. A fresh start. So you can see why I had to protect my job here, and that's why I had that talk with Wally. I admit, I was worried, but it turned out okay.”
“You took a gamble,” smiled Constable in understanding. “Which paid off.”
“Seems so,” agreed Carson.
“So the only worry you would appear to have now would be the uncertainty over who will assume the reins at the Winker Chocolate Company.”
“I hadn't gotten a
round to thinking about that yet.” Carson frowned.
“Well, when you do, Mr. Laurie, I'd assume that you'll be hoping that the new managing director will adopt the same forgiving approach as Mr. Winker.”
“Yeah … right.” A light of concern came into Carson's eyes.
“I think that'll do for now, Mr. Laurie,” said Constable, abruptly getting to his feet. “I'm sure you must have things to do, so we'll leave you to get on with them.” He made his way out of the office, Copper in his wake, leaving Carson sitting at his desk with a speculative look on his face.
*
“All right. I admit it. Wally drove me mad.”
The two detectives had gone in search of Bernie Rabbetts and, finding his office empty, had eventually tracked him down in a corner of the factory, leafing through some engineering drawings next to what appeared to be a chocolate moulding machine.
Constable permitted himself a small smile. “I have to tell you, Mr. Rabbetts, that doesn't come as a complete surprise to us. Sergeant, I think perhaps you may have some notes to that effect?” He turned to Dave Copper.
“Yes, sir,” replied Copper, swiftly leafing back through his jottings. “Not naming names at this point, but we have heard snippets concerning various, shall we say, heated conversations which Mr. Rabbetts has had with some of his colleagues. Not only Mr. Winker, although of course he is our main concern at the moment.”
“Oh, don't pay any attention to me and my rantings,” said Bernie. “It's true, I do get hot under the collar sometimes, but it never lasts. Just ask anyone. Although,” he smiled ruefully, “I expect you probably have already. The thing is,” he went on, “I know this business inside and out – I should do, I've been in it long enough – and I've done very well for myself. You see this machine here?” He gestured to the equipment looming above him. “When I started here, they apprenticed me to the tool-setter who used to jig this sort of thing up. That's where I learnt the trade. And I could still do it if I had to. That's what gets you respect on the factory floor, you see – still being able to tell these young kids how to do their jobs, because they know you can do it better. Not many people start at the bottom and end up on the Board.”
