“All right, Lucy, all right. Just tell me what you are doing.”
“A number of things. All interesting.”
“And rewarding? Your talents are sadly missed, my love.”
“I really believe you mean that. But you need not worry. This is a town of many opportunities.”
“Which you are in the process of seizing, no doubt.”
“I glean where I may, Bernard. With a little help, of course.”
“Oh?”
“At the moment—and I know you will be interested to hear this—it is being given by an old friend of yours. You did not know, did you, that Brother Culpepper is here with me?”
“Good Lord! Holy Joe?”
“You had not heard that he was in retreat?”
“Well, I did gather as much from the newspapers.”
“No, no, Bernard—I mean in an ecclesiastical sense. Out here he is isolated from the demands of the world. He tells me it is a great relief not to feel sought after all the time. And of course the open air life is working wonders for him.”
“Never mind Joe. I want to hear about you, Lucy. What are you doing with yourself?”
“I have acquired a herb farm.”
“A
“A herb farm. Now, please do not interrupt, Bernard: this call is going to cost rather a lot of money, and you will have to listen carefully if you are to understand what I wish you to do for me. There is one thing I must be clear about before I begin. Am I right in assuming that your—what shall I say?—your professional lustre is undimmed?”
There was a slight pause.
“If you mean what I think you mean, the answer is yes.”
“Oh, I am so glad. In that case, I am sure you will be able to do me the favour I have in mind. It will require a little research—nothing terribly difficult. Now then, Bernard, are you ready? You will probably wish to make a note or two.”
“Carry on.”
“Firstly, I wish to know what you can find out about a Dr Augustus Meadow, who is in practice in Heston Lane, Flaxborough. Or was, rather—he happened to die this evening.”
“Oh, Lucy, you surely haven’t got yourself mixed up in...”
“Certainly not. As far as anybody knows, he collapsed and died in a perfectly respectable manner and in his own surgery. It was by sheer coincidence that I was waiting to see him at the time. The annoying thing is that I shall not now be able to learn from him what I wanted.”
“What sort of information are you after, anyway? Career? Background? Whatever I can unearth down here is bound to be pretty sketchy. Why don’t you see what you can find in the files of the local paper? I assume there is a local paper?”
“I am not writing a biography, Bernard. My interest is in the man’s professional activities and I have reason to think that some of them may have been specialized in a way that would gain notice. His receptionist tells me that he conducted certain clinical trials, or helped to conduct them, on behalf of a drug firm called Elixon. According to her, he published findings in the medical press. I suggest that back numbers of the
“All right, I’ll cast around. Anything else?”
“Yes. Have you heard of a drug called ‘Juniform’?”
“I have.”
“Is it well known?”
“Not in my field, no. But then it’s scarcely likely to become part of the armoury of the obstetrician.”
“Oh, Bernard! You are sweet. Obstetrician.... So you are!”
“Now look, Lucy—do you want me to help you or don’t you?”
At once Miss Teatime quelled her trill of amusement. “Bernard, I
“I was saying—or about to say—that ‘Juniform’ is what you might call an over-sixties drug. I’ve no personal experience of it, but I do know that it is being very assiduously pushed.”
“But how exciting! Like heroin, you mean?”
“No, I do not mean like heroin. Pushed commercially. It isn’t a pep pill being peddled round coffee bars. Private surgeries are where the pressure is being applied. The manufacturers obviously think they’ve got a winner. I gather they’re spending like mad on promotion.”
“I see... And what exactly is ‘Juniform’ supposed to accomplish?”
“The claim, I gather, is that it produces some kind of cellular modification that inhibits natural ageing processes. Is that too technical for you?”
