The Best of British Crime omnibus (32 page)

‘I meant you look terrific after a swim,' Treasure explained lightly. ‘All of a glow, as they say in the Wrens.'

Molly considered the comment, then gave a tiny sniff of satisfaction. ‘Thank you, darling. Swimming does give one a lift. Well, that's all right then.' She smoothed the top of the sleeveless, cotton shift dress with one hand, while picking up her glass of lemon juice with the other. Her one-week commitment to a lemon juice and salad diet was well into its twelfth hour.

The two were seated in the atrium bar of the Fitness Club in the basement of Augustus Court, a big new block of flats close to their home in Chelsea's Cheyne Walk. It was a relaxing place – stone flagged, fountained, furnished with pretty wrought iron chairs and tables, scented by exotic plants, and enlivened only by the muted chirpings of tropical birds: for the moment, they had the bar to themselves; there had been other members in the pool and the gym.

Coming here together for exercise before dinner was a treat the two seldom enjoyed on a week-night. Treasure was rarely home early enough. Molly was too often appearing in the theatre. She had just finished a successful revival of Bernard Shaw's
Captain Brassbound's Conversion
. Because the run had been extended, it had clashed with some filming, also now completed, but the days had been long ones. Her next professional engagement was not for three weeks, and a period without working after months of hyperactivity was inducing a niggling sense of indolence and, even more illogically, those suspicions of approaching decay.

‘Did you read the script? The one that came this morning?' Treasure asked, picking up his whisky: they both made sacrifices in the cause of healthy living, but doing without a single serious drink before dinner was not yet one of his.

‘The Ken Jago play? Yes, I read half of it this afternoon. Riveting first act. Then Jane Larden arrived. We spent ages debating over those fabrics. For the new covers in the big guest room. She'd been to so much trouble matching samples for me.'

‘Do we need new covers for the big guest room?'

Molly smiled indulgently. ‘Not if you think the old orange ones will go well with the new pink wallpaper. You liked the paper when I showed it you. The fabric I chose for the covers isn't made any more.'

Life was too short for him to want to know why. ‘How was Jane?'

‘Oh, gorgeous, as usual. She sent love. I've definitely decided her red hair is natural.' Molly gave the lemon juice a dubious look before taking a tentative sip. ‘It's unfair to be quite that beautiful. Especially without taking pains.' She made a sour face over the juice, or, perhaps, the pains involved in staying slim.

‘Beautiful if not all that bright.'

‘That's not true. I think she's very intelligent. And she's really got a flair for interior design. Anyway she seems to make a fantastic living at it. Everyone's using her. Including Barbara Closter-Bennet, by the way.'

‘Hmm. That must be a first for any designer.'

‘Quite. The house in … ?'

‘Later Burnlow,' he provided.

‘Yes. Remember when we dined that time last year? It looked exactly as if it had been caught up in a 1939 time-warp.'

‘Was it Jane who told you she was making a fantastic living in design?'

‘Well, it's obvious.'

‘I wonder. Her husband is certainly very successful.'

‘So are you, but it doesn't stop me being the same. Some of the time,' she ended a touch disconsolately.

‘That's different. I'd guess Jane Larden is an interior designer not for the money but because— '

‘She'd otherwise lack fulfilment. You've said that before,' Molly interrupted. ‘Maybe they'll have children. She's only twenty-eight. Bob Larden's not very old is he?'

‘Old enough to have two grown-up daughters by his first marriage. He's fifty-four or -five. I don't think he wants children.'

‘You may be right. About Jane not being happy. D'you think I should insist on paying her a fee for helping me with the guest room? It's a very small job. I mean she volunteered when I mentioned I'd been let down over the fabric. It was at their house-warming party.'

The Lardens had recently moved to a bigger house in Fulham, next door to Chelsea. This was a lot closer to central London than their previous place had been, and further away from the Closter factory twenty miles to the west, though the beginning of the M4 motorway was nearby.

‘Offer a fee by all means,' said Treasure. ‘She probably won't accept, but it might help with the fulfilment. I expect she'll get a discount on the stuff she buys for you.'

‘I'd forgotten that.' She stroked her long throat and glanced up at the blue sky through the Gothic glass roof sections of the atrium. ‘Did you see there was something in the paper today about Closter Drug?'

He nodded. ‘There'll be more at the weekend. There's a news conference tomorrow.'

‘About the new cure for migraine?'

‘Yes. Ahead of an article in one of the medical journals on Monday. Bob Larden wants to be sure the news doesn't get overlooked by the national media.'

‘Is it to help with the flotation?'

Treasure pulled a face. ‘Indirectly it's bound to.'

‘Touchy subject?'

‘Fairly.'

‘Is that because it's not covered by the thingy?' Molly wrinkled her nose. ‘The prospectus? So why did you approve a news conference? You're Chairman of Closter aren't you?'

‘I didn't approve it.'

‘Oh. Another touchy subject?'

‘Not any more. Anyway, I'm going to be there. At the conference. It'll be safer. If a bit like walking on eggs.'

‘Was the new drug discovered by that sad little man? He was at the house-warming, but didn't stay. Doctor Bottle?'

‘Bodlin. Yes. Brilliant chap.' It was how everyone described Bodlin.

‘Bachelor. Looked as if he needed a good woman to smarten him up.'

‘I don't believe Bodlin has much time for women.'

‘Well a good man then.' She drank some more lemon juice as though she were enjoying it – or the self-deprivation involved in not having anything stronger. ‘And Bob didn't find Doctor Bodlin? I mean he joined Closter Drug before Bob got there?'

‘Several years before. He was hired by the previous owners. They hoped he'd produce some pharmacological miracles.'

‘It seems he has. One at least. According to the
Standard
. So why did the previous owners take on Bob Larden? Bob and his macho lieutenant?'

‘Dermot Hackle?'

‘Yes. The one all the women fancy. But not as much as he fancies himself, I thought. Jane mentioned him today. Fair locks and lantern jawed. Would have made a wonderful matinée idol. Is he good at his job? He had us in fits with his imitations. At the party. D' you remember?'

‘Vaguely. He and Bob are a team. Management and marketing. Yes, they're good. As a team.'

‘I can't remember, does Dermot Hackle have a glamorous wife too?'

‘A worthy but decidedly unglamorous one. You must have met her at the Lardens', too.'

‘I do vaguely remember now. Mousy, nervous little thing is she? And they live in West Ealing? I hardly talked to her. I thought she was someone else's wife.'

‘She's slightly older than Dermot.' Treasure shook his head. ‘And yes, very nervous. She told me all about her two young children. Twice.'

‘Will she be at the Savoy dinner next Thursday?'

‘I should think so. When she'll probably tell me about them again. They'll all be there, I expect.'

‘Not the children?'

‘No, the other directors, and their wives, or husbands, or whatever.'

‘Does Doctor Bodlin have a whatever?'

‘Yes. He's an actor, I believe.'

‘Oh? What's his name?'

‘No idea. Never met him, and he doesn't show up at company events.' He picked up some nuts from the dish on the table. ‘Bodlin usually escorts the lovely Doctor Ricini who doesn't seem to have a regular chap.'

‘She's divorced isn't she?'

‘Yes. I believe Ricini's her maiden name. Anyway, you're coming still? To the dinner? It's a chore, but they'll appreciate it. I'll appreciate it. You'll be lionised, I expect.'

‘I'm looking forward to it. Not to being lionised,' she added modestly. ‘To the excitement, I mean. Isn't it the day when you'll know if the flotation's been a success?'

‘No, the day after. When trading starts in the new shares. When people who've bought them will know whether they've made a profit over the offer price of a hundred and ten pence.'

‘Doesn't sound much.'

Treasure chuckled. ‘The
Financial Times
thinks it's too much.'

‘What do they know?'

‘Rather more than you probably, darling. But thank you for the support.'

‘Presumably it's all going to make Bob Larden very rich? What about handsome Dermot Hackle?'

‘Not very rich in his case. He had no capital to invest at the right time. Five years ago. And none since then, either, or so it appears. Hughie McFee, the Production Director, has the biggest stake after Bob. You haven't met him yet. Nice Scotsman with a large, jolly wife. They weren't at the Larden party. They're very keen Scots. She's on the organising committee of an annual one-day Scottish Festival where they live. In Maidenhead.'

‘Maidenhead?'

‘Mmm. Sort of mini Highland Games in the afternoon. Scottish dancing in the evening. On a meadow next to the McFees' place.'

‘How unlikely. But how splendid. How do you know about it?'

‘Because some years ago she started sending us tickets at the office. Miss Gaunt used them, and she's been going every year since. She likes Scottish dancing. It's on a late Saturday in May. Quite soon, I suppose.'

‘Isn't Maidenhead rather a long way for Miss Gaunt to go to a dance?'

Miss Gaunt, Treasure's middle-aged secretary, lived in Islington, on the edge of Central London.

‘Oh, it's quite an event. Beside the river. She goes with an older male cousin. The Gaunts were originally Scottish.'

‘Fancy,' Molly shook her head, and tried – without real success – to picture a tartan-sashed Emily Gaunt with a kilted, elderly kinsman dancing an abandoned Strip the Willow on the banks of the River Thames. ‘Is Barbara Closter-Bennet involved in the reeling?'

‘Not unless they do it on horseback.'

‘But Later Burnlow is near Maidenhead.'

‘Close by. Remember, we decided it was a village with more stables than bedrooms?'

‘But the Closter-Bennets will be at the Savoy dinner on Thursday?'

‘Sure to be.'

‘Will the flotation have made them a lot of money?'

‘Nearly as much as the McFees. She's fairly well off, although she complains to me at every opportunity about how little her family got for the company. That was thirteen years ago. When it was originally bought by Philer International.'

‘Is Giles Closter-Bennet good at his job?'

Treasure pouted for a moment, then replied. ‘He's an adequate accountant, but an unspectacular Finance Director.'

‘Does that matter?'

‘It would if ever the company had to operate entirely on its own.'

‘Without advice from Grenwood, Phipps?'

‘Without our involvement in financial management. As for Giles, I think he's run by his wife. I'm pretty sure she resents not heading up the company herself.'

‘Could she have done?'

‘She might. Her father controlled it, after all. She was originally against the flotation. She's come round now, but reluctantly. It wouldn't take much to alter her view again. Or rather her view as expressed through her husband.'

‘Was anyone else against the flotation?'

‘Yes. People who would have preferred it if we'd sold out to one of the big pharmaceutical manufacturers.'

‘Isn't that rather unadventurous? And going backwards? Since Closter used to be owned by a big company?'

‘Which wasn't in the drugs business. The situation's rather different now.'

‘But won't everyone be better off when Closter goes public?'

‘Not necessarily. Three or four of the international outfits have privately offered to buy Closter recently. At very fancy prices. Two directors besides Giles have been in favour of taking that route'

‘Who?'

‘Doctor Bodlin and Doctor Ricini. They'd have been well enough paid for their stakes in the company. Like the Closter-Bennets, they don't really believe Closter's big enough on its own to handle an important new drug like Seromig. Not world-wide.'

Molly nodded slowly. ‘So how does it handle things that have to be world-wide now?'

‘Through agents, or through licensing agreements with overseas manufacturers. It's not as efficient as having Closter branches in other countries.'

‘But less expensive?'

‘For a one-product company certainly.'

‘The one product being Seromig?'

‘Will be. Provided nothing goes wrong with the remainder of the tests, and provided the Department of Health finally approves the product.'

‘But Closter makes lots of other drugs, surely?'

‘Yes, but nothing unique or exclusive. And nothing with serious international potential.'

‘So are Doctor Bodlin and the other two right? Should Closter have been sold to a big company?'

‘Not according to Bob Larden. He's convinced Seromig will make huge profits, which will pay for the development costs of the other new products in the pipeline, and eventually make Closter itself big and international.'

‘That sounds more exciting. Is he right?'

Treasure gave an optimistic grunt. ‘I hope so. It's a business gamble, but an acceptable one.'

‘On Seromig being a success? Where does Dermot Hackle stand? You said he has no shares.'