The conversation, as most conversations involving Saxon usually did, degenerated into talk of women, cars and booze but it did cheer Fenton up and made him smile for the first time in days. In addition Saxon announced that he was giving a dinner party for everyone in the lab to celebrate the successful conclusion to trials on the Saxon Analyser.
'When?' asked Fenton.
'Saturday evening.'
'Where?'
'The Grange Hotel. It's not too far from the lab so the duty staff will be within bleeper range and can flit back and forth if necessary.
Jenny arrived home with the news that she would be going on night duty after the week end. 'But I'm off all this week end,' she added in response to Fenton's expression.
'Good, then we can go to the party.' said Fenton. He told her about Saxon's invitation.
On Friday morning Fenton visited his general practitioner to be declared fit to return to work. Having had no need of a doctor in the past year he had neglected to re-register with a practitioner nearer his home and so had to cross town to the doctor he had originally been listed with when he had first arrived in the city.
Was this really the system envied by the world? he wondered as he sat in a crowded room surrounded by peeling wall paper and coughing people. The windows hadn't been cleaned for decades by the look of them and there was a strong smell of cats' urine about the place. Three back copies of Punch, a two minute consultation and he was free of the system but not the despondency it inspired.
The return bus took an age to cross town and Fenton had to keep clearing the window with his sleeve to see where he was for the atmosphere on the top deck was heavy and damp and reeked of stale cigarette smoke. A fat woman, weighed down with shopping bags plumped herself down beside him, her face glowing with the exertion of having climbed the stairs. The smell of sweat mingling with the tobacco proved to be the last straw for Fenton. He got off at the next stop and walked through the rain; he was soaked to the skin by the time he reached the flat.
FIVE
The party at the Grange Hotel was a disaster. But then, as Fenton reasoned afterwards, it was always going to be in the circumstances. Their host, Nigel Saxon, tried his best to foster a spirit of light-heartedness and jollity and the generosity of the company in terms of food and drink could not be faulted but Neil Munro and Susan Daniels were just too conspicuous by their absence. In addition the knowledge that the killer had not yet been identified was still uppermost in most peoples' minds. Pulling together and presenting a common front in times of adversity was all very well when you were certain of your neighbours but when it was possible that the murderer might be sitting at the same table introversion and circumspection became the order of the day.
Alex Ross was the exception to the rule. He drank too much whisky and, to his wife's obvious embarrassment, had quite a lot to say for himself. Jenny, whom Ross was very fond of, did her best to humour him and tried to prevent him becoming too loud in his opinions by diverting his attention to other matters. Ross' wife Morag, a woman of large physical presence and wearing for the occasion a purple dress smothered in sequins and a matching hat which she kept on throughout the dinner, tried to minimise the damage to her pride by smiling broadly at everyone in turn and asking where they planned to spend their summer holidays.
Ross eventually grew wise to Jenny’s intervention and decided to bait Nigel Saxon about the speed with which Saxon Medical had obtained official approval for their product. For the first time since he had met him Fenton saw Nigel Saxon lose his good humour. Ross, despite his inebriation sensed it too and was inspired to greater efforts. He said loudly, 'If you ask me the funny handshake brigade were involved!'
There was uneasy laughter and Jenny leaned across to Fenton to ask what he meant.
'Free masonry,' whispered Fenton in reply.
Saxon managed a smile too but Ross was still intent on goading him. 'Or maybe it wasn't,' he said conspiratorially, 'They're too busy running the police force!'
There was more laughter but then Ross suddenly added. 'I think it was more like the Tree Mob.'
Fenton had no idea what Ross meant and gathered that many other people were in the same boat but it certainly meant something to Saxon for the colour drained from his face and his hands shook slightly as they rested on the table. 'I think you have said enough Mr Ross!' he whispered through gritted teeth.
Jenny and Fenton were mesmerised by the change that had come over Saxon and a complete silence came over the table before Ross who like many drunks seemed absolutely amazed that he had managed to offend anyone said loudly, 'What's the matter? It was only a wee joke man.'
Ian Ferguson quickly stepped in to defuse the situation by getting to his feet and saying, I've no idea what this is all about but I'm going to have some more wine. Anyone else?'
Glasses were proffered and the moment passed.
'A fun evening,' whispered Jenny in Fenton's ear.
'We'll go soon,' Fenton promised.
As the table was cleared Jenny was engaged in conversation by Liz Scott the lab secretary and Fenton found himself standing beside Ian Ferguson.
'Have you had any more thoughts about the stuff we found in Neil's cupboard?' asked Ferguson quietly.
Fenton shook his head and said, 'No. You?'
'No, but it's worrying me,' said Ferguson.
'In what way?' asked Fenton
'I think we should have told someone.'
'Who?'
'You know, someone in authority, the police.'
'Why?' asked Fenton, knowing full well that he was being obtuse but perversely wanting to hear his own fears expressed by somebody else.
'We know that the killer is using anticoagulants and we know that Neil Munro had a whole cupboard full of them hidden away in his lab.'
'Neil couldn't have been the killer.'
'I know that but it's an uncomfortable coincidence don't you think?'
Fenton didn't get a chance to reply for they were joined by Charles Tyson and Nigel Saxon who asked them if they were having a good time. He held up a bottle of whisky in front of them. Fenton declined but Ferguson offered his glass to have it topped up.
'Dr Tyson tells me you are on duty on Sunday morning Ian is that right?' asked Saxon.
'All too true I'm afraid. Why do you ask?'
'I have to dismantle the Saxon analyser some time in the afternoon. I wondered if you might be willing to stay on to give me a hand?'
Ferguson made an apologetic gesture. 'If only you'd said sooner,' he said. 'But I've arranged to meet my girlfriend in the afternoon. Maybe I could put her off if I…'
'I'll do it,' interrupted Fenton.
'You're sure?' asked Saxon.
'Of course. I've been idle for so long it'll be a pleasure.'
'Well, if you're quite certain…'
Fenton arranged to be at the lab by two o'clock on Sunday afternoon.
On the way home Jenny asked Fenton, 'What did Alex Ross mean by the 'Tree Mob'?'
'I've no idea,' replied Fenton.
'Charles Tyson knew,' said Jenny. 'I read it in his face.'
Nigel Saxon was waiting outside the lab when Fenton arrived on Sunday afternoon. He was stamping his feet and throwing his arms across his chest to keep warm as he patrolled the kerb near his parked car.
'Not late am I?' asked Fenton, checking his watch to find out it had just gone two.
