the benefit of his conjecture. ‘Oh, it happens quite often, you know. Get a leak in one of the gas pipes or forget to turn the cylinder off and the stuff just dribbles out, very slowly. Well, in an enclosed space, mixed with air, it’s, well, it’s like a bomb. Get a naked flame near that lot and — woomph!’
‘But why do you reckon Mr. Benham got a naked flame near it?’ asked one of the dumber secretaries.
‘Could be anything — starting the outboard, lighting a cigarette, trying to light the stove to make a cup of tea.
‘But surely,’ insisted the secretary, ‘he wouldn’t have done that. I mean, he would have smelt the gas, wouldn’t he?’
This gave the expert pause. Graham listened with particular interest to how he would explain it away. ‘Well, O.K.,’ the man conceded, ‘not lighting the stove. Some other way I suppose it happened.’
‘Anyway, the police’ll be able to find out when they examine the boat,’ said the secretary, who, Graham began to think, was not as dumb as she appeared.
But her words restored the expert’s confidence. ‘Don’t you believe it, darling. Won’t be hardly anything left for the police to examine. Tell you, those fibreglass boats — go up like Roman candles. Gas explosion like that and she’d burn down to the waterline in a couple of minutes. Then probably the weight of the keel’d take her down to the bottom. Don’t think there’ll be a lot left of that boat now.’ Then he added ghoulishly, ‘Don’t think there’ll be a lot left of Bob Benham either, come to that.’
‘What, you mean they’ll never find the remains?’
‘Oh yes, they’ll have found whatever’s left. Boat was on its mooring, I gather, so even if it went to the bottom, they’d be able to pick it up at low tide. I just don’t think what they find’s going to give them much clue as to how it happened.’
This was delivered very wisely and confidently. A few heads nodded in subdued agreement. A few were shaken ruefully at the sadness of life. Graham Marshall glowed.
Later in the morning he received a summons to the office of the Managing Director, David Birdham.
‘You’ve heard about Robert?’ Birdham said, gesturing to a chair.
Graham nodded, ‘A terrible shock.’
‘Hmm. Yes, he could have gone a long way.’ With that formal dismissal of the dead man, he moved on. ‘Puts us in a spot in the short term. I know George is nominally still Head of Personnel, but quite honestly, he seems to be losing his marbles.’
Graham would not have dared to venture that opinion himself, but now his senior had said it, felt safe in nodding agreement.
‘Fact is, Personnel’s an important department and doesn’t run itself. I’ve seen what’s going on and it’s clear that Robert was in charge from the moment the appointment was announced. And from what I saw I liked the way he was taking things.’
‘Yes.’ Graham spoke without intonation, not daring to hope.
‘Well, now we’ve lost him, and life has to go on. At the moment I wouldn’t trust George to run a white elephant stall at a village fete. Anyway, he’s got more or less wall-to-wall cocktail parties for the next fortnight, so he’s going to be even less use than usual. What’ll happen to him when he finally leaves, God knows. Drink himself to death, I would think. Still, that’s not our problem.’
Graham was tempted to say ‘No’, but thought it might sound too callous.
David Birdham tapped his desk. ‘What I want you to do, Graham, is run the department during this little interregnum. O.K.? Nothing official. No title, no extra money, I’m afraid. I just want you to keep it going until the board makes another proper appointment.’
Evidently Graham had not managed to keep the disappointment out of his face, because the Managing Director continued, ‘I know it’s a lot to ask and I’m aware that this is a difficult time for you after your. . recent problems. It may also seem that there’s not much in it for you, but rest assured it’s the sort of thing that won’t go unnoticed. I mean, you may know that when the job last came up, more than one of the board preferred you to Benham, but they were overruled. You would certainly be thought a strong candidate next time round.’
Graham nodded. It was all he had wanted to hear. He could do a lot, even in a fortnight, to strengthen his hold on the Department.
‘So will you help us out?’ asked David Birdham.
‘Of course.’
‘You’ll just retain your Assistant title, but be a. . rather more forceful assistant.’
Just as I was before Robert Benham’s elevation, thought Graham.
‘Very grateful to you, Graham, very grateful. Sort of thing that doesn’t get forgotten in a company like this. By the way, though, I’m sure I don’t need to say that you may need a touch of the kid gloves with old George. Tact, you know.’
‘I can handle George,’ said Graham with a smile.
Stella gave him a puzzled look when he came into her office. Perhaps he had been a little brusque in getting her out of the house the evening before. Or perhaps she was still shocked by the violence of his assault. Still, she had been begging for it all weekend.
He winked, but her reaction remained ambivalent.
‘Thank you very much for the weekend,’ he whispered.
‘You really … I can’t tell you how much you helped me.’
She didn’t appreciate the irony of his words, and softened. After the hurried parting, all she needed that morning was the reassurance that he was still interested. She looked hopeful, anticipating perhaps some new assignation, so he moved on quickly. ‘Can’t talk now. George in?’
She nodded and, without knocking, Graham pushed into the inner office. Once again the old man looked as if he’d been caught playing with himself.
‘Oh, er, Graham, hello. Terrible, this, about Bob, isn’t it?’
‘Frightful.’
‘Must be absolutely awful for you in particular.’
Graham looked up in surprise as George expanded his remark. ‘I mean, to have lost Merrily and then, so soon after, to lose such a close colleague … I mean, you and Bob were chums, weren’t you?’
Good God, if George thought that, he really was losing his marbles. Many remarks sprang to Graham’s lips, but he contented himself with, ‘It’s very sad.
‘Yes, lucky you weren’t sailing with him this weekend.’
‘Sure.’
‘Though apparently Terry’s all right.’
‘What? Terry? Terry who?’ The old boy’s mind has really gone.
‘Terry Sworder. Didn’t you know? Terry Sworder was staying with Bob this weekend. He went sailing with him.’ Graham gaped.
‘Apparently he was in the — what? Dinghy, fender. . whatever they call it, when the fire started. He was blown free by the blast. Bob wasn’t so lucky.’
Graham’s throat was dry. He seemed once again to taste salt in his mouth.
‘Wh. . where’s Terry now? Is he in today?’
‘No.’
‘What, in hospital?’
‘No, he wasn’t hurt much. Just shock, I think. No, I had a call from him.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘He’s with the police.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, he’s a witness, Graham. Obviously. He saw exactly what happened.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
He was back to being an amateur. Constantly fear took hold of Graham and shook him. Sweat oozed coldly
