Absolute Poison by Geraldine Evans Page B

that Rafferty had never heard of.
    “Small, but prestigious,” was Plumley's comment. “Their Head Office is in north London.”
    Rafferty nodded as Llewellyn noted the details. “This report—you said he was to bring it to you rather than post it?”
    “That's right. Obviously I'd want to discuss the details with him. Why do you ask?”
    “It's just that we haven't found such a document in his office. Of course, it's possible he was working on it at his home.”
    “Probably hadn't printed it out yet. I believe he worked a lot on his lap-top so I imagine it would be on that.”
    Rafferty nodded. There had been no lap-top computer in Barstaple's office. He could only hope they found it at his home. “I understand Mr Barstaple had only worked here for three months?”
    Plumley nodded. “That's correct. He joined us at the end of November on a six month contract.”
    “So he'd been here just three months,” Rafferty mused. Not a very long time in which to make an enemy who wants you dead and dead in such an awful way, he mused.
    Plumley seemed to guess his thoughts. After his first shocked concern that his demands might bring a certain moral responsibility for Barstaple's death, he now swiftly backtracked. “I wouldn't jump to conclusions, if I were you, Inspector. Thinking about it, it's unlikely that one of the staff here killed him. They had no reason to. He was merely a tool. With or without Clive Barstaple's undoubted skills, heads were going to roll. As far as the staff here are concerned his death alters nothing. Unless old man Aimhurst employed idiots—and that wouldn't altogether surprise me—the staff would have known that. From their point of view, Barstaple's death accomplishes nothing.”
    “Reason doesn't always enter into it, sir,” he commented. Besides, thought Rafferty, as he'd already discussed with Llewellyn, given the level of security it seemed unlikely an outsider could have gained access. “I take it you change the access code on the entrance keying system regularly?”
    From the quick narrowing of Plumley's gaze he evidently saw where this was leading, but was forced to admit that he didn't know. “You'd have to ask Hal Gallagher. As I said, I don't deal with such day-to-day matters. But it seems likely. It would be imprudent to allow any ex-employee with a grudge to gain access, after all.”
    So unless the murder was connected to his private life, it seemed to Rafferty even more likely his work here led to his death. “Tell me, was he married or-?”
    “I've no idea. I didn't enquire into his love life when I hired him.” Plumley's lips drew together as he went on, and although it was with evident reluctance that he heaped more suspicion on the staff, he was honest enough to add, “Though I would suspect not. Somehow he didn't strike me as the marrying kind.” He paused and looked thoughtfully at Rafferty. “There's another aspect you ought to be aware of. Since the takeover, Aimhurst And Son have received some threats. They gave no names, of course, but to judge from the subject matter, I'd guess they were from animal rights activists.
    “Watts And Cutley, amongst other things, have a pharmaceutical arm where we use animals in laboratory tests. I suppose, after the takeover, these animal rights people thought this place would be an easy target. We updated the security system because of their threats. Maybe you should look into their activities?”
    “We'll certainly do that, sir,” Rafferty agreed. “I imagine Mr Gallagher has the details?”
    Plumley nodded. “If that's all, Inspector…?”
    “For the moment. Now, you wanted a word with Mr Gallagher. Llewellyn, perhaps you'd escort Mr Plumley to the other office?”
    As Plumley followed Llewellyn out, Rafferty watched him. Although Plumley had managed to spread a little of the guilt outwards from the firm with his revelations about the animal rights activists threats, the man struck him as a realist. He would realize as