Free Publish and Be Murdered by Ruth Dudley Edwards

putting off her retirement for years because no one else could have done her job.’
    Rachel knew the story and was thinking of something else, but the others were rapt. ‘Bugger me,’ said the baroness. ‘This makes me look like Bill Gates.’ She seized the bottle and poured claret into her own glass. Pointedly, but without her noticing, Amiss topped up everyone else’s.
    ‘Then, too, there was the little matter of keeping a master-list of subscribers without ever bothering to check on expiry dates. Every month subscribers were asked to renew their subscriptions if they had run out and were relied upon to be efficient, honest and loyal enough to send money if it was owed. As a guess, I think we’ve been giving away at least three thousand free subscriptions a year.’
    ‘This is ridiculous, Robert,’ said Pooley. ‘You must be making it up. Just because the methods were old-fashioned doesn’t have to mean that they were completely incompetent.’
    ‘They were. We had a labour-intensive, out-of-date system combined with administrative incompetence of a kind which the civil service never dreamed of.’
    ‘I doubt that,’ said Pooley loftily.
    ‘You’ve got a nerve,’ said the baroness indignantly. ‘I knew halfwits in the civil service, but they were never as thick as cops. What about the antiquated filing methods that allowed the Yorkshire Ripper to run amok with impunity for so long?’
    ‘I’ve been daring enough to get a computer into the subscription department,’ went on Amiss. ‘Young Jason mastered it within a few days. So now he’s happy and the savings are spectacular. Naggiar, the subscriptions manager, doesn’t give a toss as long as he’s allowed to go on doing bugger-all.’
    ‘Any cigars?’ enquired the baroness.
    ‘No.’
    ‘Pity.’ She felt around in a pocket, extracted pipe and tobacco and began to fill the one with the other.
    ‘Advertising was a bigger struggle. Scudmore is a nice man but as much as a disaster as the malingering Naggiar and much harder to do anything about. It was my good fortune that he collapsed with a heart attack four weeks ago and will not be back. I brought in someone at a third of the salary, who doubled the advertising in his first month.’
    As the baroness lit an enormous lighter and aimed it at her tobacco, Pooley hastily moved his chair a couple of feet away. She sucked noisily for a few moments, grunted with satisfaction and then looked up at Amiss. ‘Well, I’ll say for you, my lad, that you’ve certainly followed to the ultimate the great old precept that the way to be a success is to succeed a failure. What more has to be done before you put yourself out of business?’
    ‘Plenty, but I won’t bore you with an accounts clerk who thinks it impertinent to ask anyone for a receipt, or a system of perks that ensures that no journalist ever travels other than first class – even by air – not to speak of the editor’s habit of hiring a first-class cook and butler several times a week to entertain people to what he calls luncheon, or even the distinguished wine cellar which is augmented annually to the tune of five or ten thou a year.’
    ‘How soon can I come to lunch?’ asked the baroness.
    ‘I’ll ask Willie and ring you tomorrow: he’s been at me to ask you. But are you sure you can put up with him for the sake of the food?’
    ‘I want to meet him properly.’
    ‘Why?’ asked Amiss suspiciously.
    ‘Never you mind. Now, have there been any mutterings against you yet?’
    ‘Most of them realize they’re lucky not to have got some ghastly whizz-kid intent on wholesale revolution.’
    ‘And the gentle owner?’
    ‘Very happy. Since he doesn’t mind losing money as long as it doesn’t run into six figures, I’ve already exceeded his expectations. Indeed, he gave me a pay rise the other week.’
    ‘But no contract,’ said Rachel.
    ‘It wasn’t appropriate to ask, Rach. You know that.’
    ‘You haven’t dealt with the