Authors: Catherine Aird
âHe always did think he was cleverer than anyone else,' commented Mike Itchen. âMind you, he was really upset when the Hospital Ethics Committee said he couldn't do what he wanted.'
âYou'd have thought he would have stopped when half the patients died,' said Gledhill, adding by way of explanation to the two policemen, âThat's our cut-off point with animals, by the way.'
âYou better hadn't tell young Darren Clements that,' remarked Crosby. âHe and his little friends might come back.'
âJust for the record,' said Sloan, sticking to the point, âdid whatever Byville was using come from here?'
Both men were adamant that his supplies hadn't come from Gilroy's Pharmaceuticals.
âThe Cardigan Protocol, yes,' said Gledhill unhesitatingly. âRoger Byville's substances, whatever they were, definitely not. It should be quite easy to check, if you wish, Inspector.'
âThank you, sir.' He coughed. âThere are just one or two other things to be followed up before we go.'
âOf course,' said Gledhill, running a dry tongue over even drier lips. âGo on.'
âAnd someone else whom we'd like to see.'
âWho's that?' stammered Gledhill nervously.
âThe man whom you'd arranged for Dr Meggie to meet here on Friday,' spelt out Sloan. âAt lunchtime. Remember?'
âOh, him.' Relief flowed out of Gledhill's voice while Mike Itchen's taut posture immediately slackened. âThat was only Al Dexter of Dexter Palindome over at Luston. He had been getting ready to take a look at the Cardigan Protocol with a view to advising us on any possible production difficulties, that's all.'
âAnd will there be any difficulties?' enquired Sloan.
âToo soon to say,' returned Gledhill hurriedly. âMuch too soon.'
âBut the trial was completed, wasn't it?' said Sloan innocently.
âYes, yes, Inspector, but we will still need to do a lot of work on it, won't we, Mike?'
âQuite a lot.' Itchen hastened to agree with him.
âWhy?' asked Sloan mildly. âYou've told me that you'd already got the meeting with AlâDexter, I think you said the name wasâlined up for just that very purpose.'
âYou've still got Dr Meggie's workings, that's why,' said Gledhill, tiny beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. âWe'd need them before we could get much further.'
âI am sure,' said Sloan formally, âthat we shall be able to let you have copies in due course.'
Mike Itchen leaned forward. âAnd when might that be, Inspector?'
âAfter our scientists have been over them,' said Sloan pleasantly. âI'm sure you'll understand that they'll need to examine them pretty closely first.'
Gledhill's face took on a greyish tinge. âThank you, Inspector,' he managed with a visible effort. âPerhaps then we'll talk to Al Dexter again.'
âWe, Crosby,' had declared Sloan once they were back in the privacy of the police car, âon the other hand are going to talk to Al Dexter now. Get us over to Luston, will you? I don't like loose ends.'
There was something else, too. Talking to Gledhill and Itchen had been too much like playing hunt-the-thimble for Sloan's liking. All it had needed was a room full of excited small children calling out âGetting warmer' and âGetting colder'. The message when Al Dexter's name had been mentioned was definitely âGetting colder': that was when both men had visibly relaxed. It would do no harm at all, Sloan had decided, to talk to Al Dexter of Dexter Palindome (Luston) plc. They tracked him down at his home at the better end of the town.
âSure, Inspector,' the manufacturer said laconically, âI'm ready to take on making Cardigan for the wider world just as soon as Gilroy's give the word. They know that.' He cocked an enquiring eyebrow at the two policemen. âIt sounded to me as if they'd developed a really worthwhile product.'
âGood,' said Sloan absently.
âAnd one without any side-effects.'
âI see,' said Sloan. âPresumably that's good, too?'
âThey're often the problem, you know.' He tapped his finger. âSide-effects can make or break a product.'
Sloan said that he could see that they might, and that the patients might not like them either.
âAnd, as I understand it,' drawled Dexter, âthe beauty of Cardigan is that it doesn't have any.'
âJust the one,' said Detective Constable Crosby, who must have been listening in spite of all appearances to the contrary.
Dexter looked up alertly. âWhat's that?'
âAll the people on it suddenly lost a lot of weight,' said Crosby, turning to Sloan. âDon't you remember, sir?'
âSo that's what they were up to! Testing Naomite,' exploded Dexter, a man transformed. For one wild moment Sloan thought the drug manufacturer was going to grab Crosby by the throat and shake him. âSay that again, Constable,' he breathed, âand then show me the evidence. This, I want to see with my own eyes.'
âApparently,' said Sloan, valiantly trying now to reduce scientific perfidy to bite-sized pieces for consumption by the superintendent, âGledhill and Itchen were working their own little fiddle on the side.'
âAh, they were, were they?' grunted Leeyes.
âThey were riding on the back of Dr Paul Meggie's Cardigan trialsânot that he knew, poor fellow.'
âHow?'
âThey were conducting a little nested case control study all of their ownâ'
âSounds to me more like they were lining their own nests,' sniffed Leeyes.
ââof something they had developed called Naomite.' It had been Boaz who had âbought all at the hand of Naomi' but that had been in the Old Testament and the superintendent wouldn't want to know that.
âSloan, I am only a policeman, not a Nobel prizewinner.'
âIt's like this, sir.' Sloan had had the benefit of a lecture by Al Dexter. That entrepreneur had been very interested indeed in what Gledhill and Itchen had been up to. But not surprised.
Sloan said, âThey set up this neat little scheme of testing something of their own under the umbrella of Dr Meggie's perfectly proper pilot scheme which had been duly approved by all the regulatory authorities.'
âClever,' nodded Leeyes.
âVery clever,' endorsed Sloan, briefed by Al Dexter, âbecause by using the subjects Dr Meggie'd selected they'd found a way of getting more accurately matched controls and reducing some of the variables and so they didn't need as large a study.'
âAnd I suppose,' said Leeyes, waving a hand, âthey'll argue they were doing it all for the good of mankind anyway.'
âWell,' said Sloan cautiously, âthey were looking for the Holy Grail of all research pharmacistsâ'
âA cure for cancer?'
âAn instant treatment for obesity,' said Sloan, coached by the realist from Dexter Palindome (Luston) plc. âWithout a doubt they'd have been millionaires overnight, the pair of 'em.'
âWhere to, sir?' Detective Constable Crosby asked Sloan as he joined him in the car.
âKinnisport Hospital,' said Sloan. âTo see an artist about his painting.'
âOh, him,' said Crosby dismissively. âFull of funny ideas, he is.'
âYou've seen Dr Dabbe's report?' The pathologist had returned from his weekend in high good humour, the yachting trophy safely under his arm for another year.
âWhat about it?' asked Crosby.
âDr Dabbe says Martin Friar was poisoned with fagarine all right as well as one or two other things.'
âAnd Dr Byville won't say anything,' said Crosby. âHe's a cool one, isn't he, sir? Just sitting there and asking for his solicitor.'
âYou know, Crosby, somehow I don't think that's going to make a lot of difference now.'
Sloan was even more sure about this when they'd spoken to Adrian Gomm. The artist had painted a second alembic on the other sideâthe left halfâof the mural. Where the first one had been coloured green, this one, splashing fluid out of the flask, was red.
âI call it a parable for our time, Inspector,' he said.
âGood drugs on the one hand and bad ones on the other.'
âQuite so,' said Sloan. âTwo sides of the same coin, you might say, sir,' he added, since money came into both sides, too. He knew that now with a vengeance. âCan you by any chance recollect whether you were up your ladder when Dr Byville left Dr Friar on Saturday morning?'
âSure.' The artist leaned forward and applied a brush stroke of red paint to the left-hand alembic. âDr Friar walked him out to his car. Toadying, I'd have called it if I hadn't heard them talking in the hall first.'
âGo on.'
âThey were discussing a spleen patient who'd just died on the ward, and Dr Byville was telling Dr Friar not to let it worry him.' Gomm drew himself up. âI hope someone would worry if I kicked the bucket that young.'
âThe Administrator would if you hadn't finished this first,' said Crosby, adding disparagingly, âunless he's paying you by the yard.'
âThen what?' said Detective Inspector Sloan sharply. Dr Meggie's murder by Roger Byville would be more difficult to prove than Dr Friar's and what he wanted was more evidence than carbon monoxide poisoning by someone with access to helium and a riot-control agent.
âDr Byville told him to come to his car with him and he'd give him a swig of something to make him feel better,' said the artist, rubbing grubby fingers down a grubby shirt.
âA Mickey Finn,' nodded Crosby.
Sloan leaned forward. âYou could see into the car park through that high window, couldn't you?' he said persuasively, âbecause you saw those boys playing round our car when we were here.'
âOh, yes,' said Gomm, unaware that he had at that moment stopped being merely a commentator on good and evil in society and had become, willy-nilly, a player in the game of life. âDr Byville got a flask out of his car and handed it to Dr Friar. He took a swig. I saw him.'
Detective Constable Crosby turned the car back towards Berebury, automatically overtaking some traffic he considered dilatory. âClever of Byville to use some of the stuff from the Cardigan Protocol to kill Dr Friar with, wasn't it?'
âFagarine,' mused Sloan. âDr Dabbe seemed to think it might have a future as a useful drug for the heart.'
âSo that only leaves the paperwork then, doesn't it, sir?'
âYes. And that means,' Sloan prompted him gently, âthat there's no hurry any more and therefore you needn't drive so fast, Crosby. Cardigan's over now.'
âYes, sir.' He steered the car smartly past a couple of traffic-calming measures at speed and said confidentially, âYou know, sir, I worked out why it was called Cardigan.'
âDid you?'
âBecause “cardiac” means “appertaining to the heart”. I asked Dr Dabbe. Clever, isn't it?'
About the Author
Catherine Aird is the author of more than twenty volumes of detective mysteries and three collections of short stories. Most of her fiction features Detective Inspector C. D. Sloan and Detective Constable W. E. Crosby. Aird holds an honorary master's degree from the University of Kent and was made a Member of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (MBE) for her services to the Girl Guide Association. She lives in a village in East Kent, England.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The chapter headings are taken from
The Doctor's Dilemma â A Tragedy
by Bernard Shaw (1913). Reproduced by kind permission of The Society of Authors on behalf of the Bernard Shaw estate.
Copyright © 1996 by Catherine Aird
Cover design by Tracey Dunham
ISBN: 978-1-5040-1057-3
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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