“Well, now, Superintendent, you’ll have to ask them. I can’t think of any reason why she shouldn’t be.”
“You were not then under any pressure from the Medical Committee to remove her from the clinic?”
The mild grey eyes grew suddenly blank. There was a momentary pause before the group secretary calmly replied: “I have had no official request of that kind made to me.”
“But unofficially?”
“There has been a feeling here from time to time, I believe, that a change of job might be helpful to Miss Bolam. Now that’s not such a bad idea, Superintendent! Any officer in a small unit, particularly a psychiatric clinic, can benefit from a change of experience. But I don’t transfer my staff at the whim of medical committees. Bless me, no! And, as I said, no official request was made. If Miss Bolam herself had asked for a transfer, that would have been a different matter. Even so, it wouldn’t have been easy. She was a general administrative officer and we haven’t many posts in that grade.”
Dalgliesh then asked again about Miss Bolam’s telephone call and Lauder confirmed that he had spoken to her at about ten to one. He remembered the time because he was just about to go for lunch. Miss Bolam had asked to speak to him personally and had been put through by his secretary. She had asked whether she could see him urgently.
“Can you remember the exact conversation?”
“More or less. She said: ‘Can I have an appointment to see you as soon as possible? I think there may be something going on here that you ought to know about. I should like your advice. Something that started well before my time here.’ I said that I couldn’t see her this afternoon as I would be in the Finance and General Purposes Committee from two-thirty onwards and had a Joint Consultative Committee immediately afterwards. I asked whether she could give me any idea what it was all about and whether it couldn’t wait until Monday. She hesitated, so, before she could reply, I said I’d drop in on my way home this evening. I knew they had a late clinic on Fridays. She said that she would arrange to be alone in her office from six-thirty onwards, thanked me and rang off. The JCC lasted longer than I expected—that Committee always does—and I got here just before seven-thirty. But you know that. I was still in committee at the time they found the body, as no doubt you’ll be checking in due course.”
“Did you take Miss Bolam’s message seriously? Was she the sort of woman who ran to you with trifles or would a request to see you really mean that something serious was wrong?”
The group secretary thought for a moment before replying: “I took it seriously. That’s why I came round tonight.”
“And you have no idea at all what it might be?”
“None, I’m afraid. It must have been something that she learned about since Wednesday. I saw Miss Bolam then at the House Committee meeting in the late afternoon and she told me afterwards that things were pretty quiet here at present. That is the last time I saw her, incidentally. She was looking rather well, I thought. Better than for some time.”
Dalgliesh asked the group secretary what, if anything, he knew of Miss Bolam’s private life.
“Very little. I believe she has no near relations and lives alone in a flat in Kensington. Nurse Bolam will be able to tell you more about her. They’re cousins and Nurse Bolam is probably the nearest living relative. I’ve got an idea that she had private means. All the official information about her career will be on her dossier. Knowing Miss Bolam, I expect her file will be as meticulously kept as any other staff dossier. It’ll be here, no doubt.”
Without moving from his chair he leaned sideways, jerked open the top drawer of the filing cabinet and inserted a chubby hand between the manilla folders.
“Here we are. Bolam, Enid Constance. I see she came to us in October 1949 as a shorthand typist. She spent eighteen months in Group Headquarters, was transferred to one of our chest clinics on 19th April 1951 on Grade B and applied for the vacant post of administrative officer here on 14th May 1957. The post was then Grade D and she was lucky to get it. We hadn’t a very strong field, I remember. All administrative and clerical jobs were regraded in 1958 following the Noel Hall report and, after some argument with the Regional Board, we managed to get this one graded as general administrative. It’s all down here. Date of birth, 12th December 1922. Address, 37a Ballantyne Mansions, SW8. Then come details about her tax code, national insurance number and incremental date. She’s only had one week off sick since she came here and that was in 1959 when she had flu. There isn’t much more here. Her original application form and letters of appointment will be on her main dossier at Group Headquarters.”
He handed the file to Dalgliesh, who looked through it and then said: “This states that her previous employers were the Botley Research Establishment. Isn’t that Sir Mark Etherege’s show? They dabble in aeronautical research. He’s Dr. Etherege’s brother, isn’t he?”
“I think Miss Bolam did mention to me when she was appointed to this post that she knew Dr. Etherege’s brother slightly. Mind you now, it can’t have been more than that. She was only a shorthand typist at Botley. It’s a bit of a coincidence, I suppose, but then she had to come from somewhere. I seem to remember it was Sir Mark who gave her a reference when she applied to us. That will be on her Group dossier, of course.”
“Would you mind telling me, Mr. Lauder, what arrangements you propose making here now that she’s dead?”
The group secretary replaced the file in the cabinet. “I don’t see why not. I shall have to consult my committee, of course, as the circumstances are unusual, but I shall recommend that the senior medical stenographer here, Mrs. Bostock, takes over in an acting capacity. If she can do the job—and I think she can—she’ll be a strong candidate for the vacancy, but the post will be advertised in the usual way.”
Dalgliesh did not comment but he was interested. Such a quick decision on Miss Bolam’s successor could only mean that Lauder had earlier given some thought to it. The approaches of the medical staff may have been unofficial, but they had probably been more effective than the group secretary cared to admit.
Dalgliesh returned to the telephone call which had brought Mr. Lauder to the clinic. He said: “The words Miss Bolam used strike me as significant. She said that there may be something very serious going on here which you ought to know about and that it started before her time. That suggests, firstly, that she wasn’t yet certain but only suspicious, and, secondly, that she wasn’t worried about a particular incident but about something of long standing. A systematic policy of thieving, for example, as opposed to one isolated theft.”
“Well now, Superintendent, it’s odd you should mention theft. We have had a theft recently, but it was an isolated incident, the first we’ve had here for years, and I can’t see how it could be connected with murder. It was just over a week ago, last Tuesday if I remember rightly. Cully and Nagle were the last to leave the clinic as usual and Cully asked Nagle to have a drink with him at the Queen’s Head. You know it, I expect. It’s the pub on the far corner of Beefsteak Street. There are one or two odd things about this story and one of the strangest is that Cully should invite Nagle for a drink. They’ve never struck me as buddies. Anyway, Nagle accepted and they were in the Queen’s Head together from about seven. At about half past, a pal of Cully’s came in and said he was surprised to see Cully there as he had just passed the clinic and there was a faint light in one of the windows—as if someone was moving around with a torch, he said. Nagle and Cully went off to investigate and found one of the back basement windows broken, or rather, cut out. Quite a clever job it was. Cully didn’t feel inclined to investigate further without reinforcements and I’m not sure that I blame him. He’s sixty-five, remember, and not strong. After some whispering together, Nagle said that he’d go in and Cully had better telephone the police from the kiosk on the corner. Your people came pretty smartly but they didn’t get the intruder. He gave Nagle the slip inside the building and, when Cully got back from telephoning, he was just in time to see the man slip out of the mews.”