‘I answered an advert in our trade journal. I was with London Insulated at the time and finding promotion rather slow. So I took a chance with a new firm, and I’ve never regretted it. We’ve been expanding all the time and we’ve acquired a site for a new premises.’
‘Was the firm organized when you joined it?’
‘No. It was just in the process. But Mr Fleece had formed a nucleus of technical staff and designers.’
‘Were there share issues at that stage?’
‘No, that came a little later.’
‘Where did the initial capital come from?’
Bemmells looked blank. ‘From Mr Fleece, I suppose.’
‘Did he mention how it was acquired?’
‘Not to me he didn’t. But then it wasn’t my business. There’s no question about it, is there?’
‘Nothing of any importance.’ Gently’s tone was reassuring. ‘But since you’re second-in-command here I thought that Fleece might have dropped you a hint. You were fairly intimate with him, were you?’
‘Our relations were always excellent.’
‘You met his wife and family of course?’
‘I did on occasion. I’ve been invited to his home.’
‘Did you go to his wedding in thirty-nine?’
‘No… it occurred out of town, I believe.’
‘Did you know his wife before he married her?’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t. I moved in rather different circles.’
Gently made a break. Bemmells’ expression had become increasingly wary, as though by degrees it was dawning on him that all was not entirely innocent. He flickered looks from Gently to the desk and again to Evans; but he didn’t, as Gently hoped, come out with something unsolicited.
‘Mrs Fleece told us that her husband was often away from home on business. That’s something you’d know about. Where did his business use to take him?’
‘Wherever there was a chance of a contract. Mr Fleece was all business. He’s been as far as Pakistan — South Africa — the West Indies.’
‘Had he been abroad lately?’
‘He went to Holland in the spring. And just lately he’d made one or two trips into Wales.’
‘Into Wales? What was that for?’
‘He didn’t tell me, I’m afraid. He simply mentioned that he had business there which needed following up.’
‘Could you give a shrewd guess?’
Bemmells frowned. ‘There’s the Conway project. Or the installation at Corwen. We might contract for either of those.’
‘Wouldn’t he have told you about that? Wouldn’t he have taken a technical adviser with him?’
‘It would have been more usual, I admit. But it was entirely up to him.’
Gently could hear Evans’s feet stirring: this was interesting information! A coincidence it might be, but it had a tendentious ring to it. Had Fleece’s trips been on business his manager would surely have been in his confidence, and had they been personal… what personal reason would have taken Fleece to Wales?
‘Exactly when did these trips take place?’
‘I didn’t make a note of them, naturally. But the first one was in August during the week following our works’ fortnight. There were two or three in September and another last week: four or five altogether. Then, of course, there was last weekend.’
‘On what days of last week?’
Bemmells considered. ‘The Tuesday and Wednesday.’
‘Was that the usual length of the visits?’
‘Oh yes. A couple of days.’
‘Would he have driven down by car?’
‘Yes. He rarely used the trains.’
‘At what address were you supposed to contact him?’
‘I never did, because he didn’t leave one.’
‘And your works’ fortnight — when was that?’
‘At the usual time. The first two weeks in August.’
In effect, Fleece’s trips had begun a few days after Kincaid’s appearance: and had continued at frequent intervals until a fatal one supervened.
‘Have you anything to add to this, Mr Bemmells? It could have some bearing on Fleece’s death.’
‘No… I assure you. That’s all I know about it.’ Bemmells had paled as this aspect was put to him.
‘There’s one other matter, touching Mr Fleece’s personal life. It’s important, you understand, or I wouldn’t be asking about it. Would you say he was happily married?’
A mottled flush replaced Bemmells’ pallor. ‘I–I’m not quite certain if I should answer that question. There was a coolness between them, I believe, from certain things Mr Fleece said… and I did have the impression… but it’s nothing I want to repeat.’
‘I’m not idly curious, Mr Bemmells. Was your impression that she had a lover?’
‘I… well!’ Bemmells was rocked. He looked heartily uncomfortable. ‘Yes, I certainly had the impression of — er — something of that sort. Mr Fleece said cynical things… not always seriously, I may add.’
‘Did he cynically mention a name?’
‘No. No name was mentioned. Believe me, I never knew anything for a fact.’
‘Was a divorce talked about?’
‘Well… very loosely, he did refer to it…’
‘In that case I’d like the name and address of his solicitors.’
Bemmells found it for him, quite flustered, spilling papers over his desk. The solicitors were Agnew, Sharp, and Adams and the address in the Temple. Bemmells followed them out to the car, fluttering around them like a broody hen, and at last he screwed up his courage to ask:
‘It won’t affect the poor lady’s rights, will it…?’
When they drove away towards the city Evans was doubled up with laughter. He appeared to have found something unbearably comic about the manager of Electroproducts.
‘Suppose — just suppose for the moment — suppose he’s the co-respondent himself, man!’
The idea was too much for him. He almost sobbed with mirth.
Gently wasn’t so much amused and he filled and lit his pipe sombrely. Something had clicked in his mind when he’d heard of those visits to Wales. It was as though then, for the first time, he’d made a genuine connection with the case; as though at that moment, from all the heaped uncertainty, something certain had fallen into his hand. There was no logical reason for this. There never was in these matters. At the best it was a dark motion in a carefully prepared unconscious. But he knew the signal when it reached him and it had reached him now: he was positive that those visits were part of the pattern he was seeking. Evans too, when he’d controlled his chortling, found something disturbing in the information.
‘Are you thinking, man, that Fleece stirred up something in Wales?’
Gently hunched. ‘I haven’t got round to being definitive,’ he replied.
‘That was a peculiar little timetable which the Bemmells lad gave us. I had a sensation we were on to something which didn’t overplease me.’
‘It has to do with Kincaid somehow, if it affects the case at all. Kincaid’s appearance triggered those visits. They follow each other much too neatly.’
‘Goodness gracious, you give me ideas. Couldn’t Kincaid also have made trips to Wales? Couldn’t that be the reason for Fleece’s going there, to keep an eye on the foolish fellow?’
‘In what connection?’ Gently exhaled smoke.
‘Why, I don’t know. But I’ll do some imagining. Suppose Mrs Fleece isn’t Paula Kincaid, and suppose they both went to Wales in search of her? Kincaid, he’s got a notion she’ll be there, and Fleece, he’s got a notion that Kincaid’s got a notion. So he follows Kincaid about in the hope that he’ll lead him to Mrs Kincaid, and in the end Kincaid gets tired of it and gives Fleece a shove over Snowdon.’
