‘She was clever. She had shown affection for the girl before diabetes was diagnosed. She had to continue to show the same affection afterwards, in order not to antagonize her son and to put her in a stronger position for cancelling the wedding altogether. If Brian was to be her unwitting tool in breaking the engagement, he must not suspect hostility on her part, or the ploy might fail. So apparently all were on the best of terms even to the point of Mrs Dent offering the girl a present of five hundred pounds which she, Mrs Dent, never intended should be given or used. Maybe she also thought that this offer would throw people like us off the scent should the girl’s death ever be investigated.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I don’t know it, but Inspector Green will bear me out when I say she went all artificially coy when the gift was mentioned on Saturday night. “Oh, Brian shouldn’t have told you. It was just a little family secret.” You know the attitude, sir. Sick-making.’
Hook nodded unhappily. ‘You’re a dab hand at drawing conclusions from attitudes that would escape the notice of other people.’
‘I try to be, sir, because it helps. Particularly in cases like this. But to go on: Heatherington-Blowers and Bruce found a significant amount of zinc sulphate in the vomit. Sergeant Hill and Sergeant Brant visited all the local chemists to try to discover if anybody had bought zinc sulphate from them recently. No luck. But zinc sulphate is one of those fairly common chemicals that boys with chemistry sets mess about with. It is an odourless, colourless, efflorescent crystal or a white crystalline powder. Toy shops sell it in little cardboard drums to youngsters for experiments, because it’s not poisonous. So we tried the toy shops. The proprietor of The Model Emporium remembers selling some a week or two ago to a middle-aged woman. Usually, boys buy it. That’s why he can remember this well-dressed woman, with blue-rinsed hair, coming in for it. His description fits Mrs Dent. You will be asked to arrange an identity parade for him to make sure.’
Hook nodded.
‘And also for one of the girl librarians. She remembers a woman coming to the reference department some weeks ago and asking to see the pharmacopoeias. This woman, too, had blue-rinsed hair, and the girl remembers seeing her about the town on various occasions, so identification should not be difficult.’
‘Why should looking at pharmacopoeias be so important?’ Hook asked.
‘Because Mrs Dent, being a dietitian, would know the difficulties of disguising taste. She would know also—none better—the use of aniseed for this purpose. Hence the Anisette. But it would be better still to have an emetic with a less pronounced taste and no smell, if possible, even though it was to be given in Anisette.
‘Martindale—the authority used by most doctors and chemists—lists seven emetics. Zinc sulphate is the last in the list, and according to the doctors I’ve spoken to, the least well known. In fact, some of them had never even heard of it as an emetic and, therefore, I am assuming that it was unknown to Mrs Dent, too, before she visited the library. I think I can satisfy you as to why she chose zinc sulphate. The seven emetics listed are antimony sodium tartrate, apomorphine, mustard flour, copper sulphate, ipecacuanha and other vegetable expectorants, sodium chloride, and finally zinc sulphate. As you know, two of them, mustard flour and sodium chloride—or common salt—are ordinary household condiments. But how would you disguise an emetic dose of ten grammes of mustard in a liqueur, or enough salt to do the trick in so small a drink? Impossible. That leaves five. But two of these, antimony sodium tartrate and apomorphine are injectables. So they were out, too. That leaves three. Our old friend ipecac—as everybody knows—is very bitter, and the amount needed to produce emesis is so large there would be no room left in a liqueur thimble for the Anisette, let alone enough to blanket the taste. Two left. Copper sulphate is blue. Everybody knows that. I think the thought of the colour steered her clear of copper sulphate, but I think it gave her the idea that these chemicals can be bought at places other than chemists’ shops. She was left with zinc sulphate. And here the properties seemed very advantageous to her. An odourless white powder, very soluble in water—less than one part of water is needed to one part of zinc sulphate—with an emetic dose ranging from only six-tenths of a gramme up to two grammes maximum. In other words, an egg-spoonful of the liquid would be certain to do the trick. Admittedly there is an astringent, metallic taste, but not such that Anisette wouldn’t cover it.
‘I’ve already told you how easy zinc sulphate is to get hold of. What about its effects? Vomiting and incessant retching, followed by extreme prostration. Think of what happened to Sally Bowker. Exactly that. And to add to the suitability of zinc sulphate as a poison for a diabetic are these two facts—that it is eliminated from the body in the vomit as I’ve already explained; and that Martindale cites an example of a woman who, after swallowing one ounce of zinc sulphate became semi-comatose with—and note this bit particularly—a marked ketosis. She died despite insulin therapy.’
‘What’s that? Ketosis?’
‘It’s what diabetics get when their insulin is useless or they don’t get enough of it. It’s what brought on Sally Bowker’s coma.’
Hook said bitterly, ‘I see. It was all laid on very nicely for Cora Dent, wasn’t it?’
‘That’s one way of putting it.’ Masters paused for a moment to see if Hook had any further comment to make. As none came, he said, ‘Shall we push on, sir?’
‘Aye. But I’ll order some tea first. I daresay you could do with giving your voice a rest.’
The tea came in. Masters appeared to be in a hurry. Before anybody had finished drinking he started talking again.
‘I’ve told you how I believe Mrs Dent came to choose zinc sulphate as the emetic, and I think you can safely assume that she will be identified as having bought the chemical. Now we must turn to the insulin. You’ve all seen the aluminium carrying-case Miss Bowker used for her injection materials. A metal box with plastic compartments inside. Miss Bowker carried two bottles of insulin on this occasion—one with a single dose, the other full. The single dose she injected before supper, so we cannot state categorically that it was useless, but I believe it was, as Inspector Green suggested, and I hope you will see why I say so in a minute. We know the full bottle was useless. Tests proved it.
‘Dr Sisson said the useless insulin was not toxic. That means that no poison had been added. Why then was it useless? The hint came when Brian Dent said Miss Bowker was careful never to leave her bag in the heat of the sun. Later, I read the instructions for keeping insulin. It must not be stored on a mantelpiece above a fire, in an airing-cupboard or anywhere too warm. An article on the manufacture of insulin says, and I quote: “Heat is enemy to insulin.”
‘Having established that, gentlemen, I had to look round for a source of heat. Quick heat, because Miss Bowker only left her bag in the downstairs cloakroom for the time she was swimming, and nobody could foresee how short a time that might be. In addition, I believe Mrs Dent—though prepared—only took the decision to act on that particular Saturday night at a quarter to seven the same evening. Why I say this will become clear later. But if you accept my word for it, you’ll see that time was short. The meal was to be at seven thirty and Sally Bowker was meticulous in having her injection exactly half an hour before she ate a main meal. So Mrs Dent was pushed for time. At the most she could expect a quarter of an hour in which to work. At the least a minute or two. So, a slow gentle warmth would be no good for her purpose. The downstairs cloakroom is near the kitchen. In the kitchen was Mrs Dent, and Mrs Dent is the proud owner of an infra-red grill—also in the kitchen. I wandered along to the electricity showrooms yesterday afternoon. A model similar to Mrs Dent’s was on display. Its loading is fifteen hundred watts, and it is advertised as being capable of cooking a steak to perfection in sixty seconds. If it will do that, how long will it take to render useless a phial of insulin to which an ordinary warm atmosphere is “enemy”? I suggest that Miss Bowker’s carrying case was put bodily into the
grill for a very short time. Thirty seconds, perhaps.’
‘The whole box?’ Green asked.
‘I believe so. Otherwise the labels on the phials would have been singed. Sisson says there was no sign of that, but the plastic inside the box is slightly discoloured and misshapen. In my ignorance, when I first noted this, I thought it was staining and fair wear and tear. I was wrong. Insulin does not stain plastic. Another reason why I think the period was short was because the syringe was in a cylinder of industrial spirit. A prolonged period of fierce heat would have caused that to explode. It didn’t do so. But what undoubtedly confirms my belief that the whole box was heated is the state of the reagent strips in their bottle. The impregnated portion of every strip is dark brown. When I first saw them, I naturally thought this was the correct colour. But whilst reading, I came across some information about them. They should be stored—like insulin—in a cool place. The impregnated portion, when in good condition, is white or cream: too much heat sends them brown, and in this state they are useless. I don’t think that Sally Bowker, who was so careful about everything else, would carry useless testing strips. I believe they were submitted to greater than normal heat after she had packed them in her case.
‘A very few seconds under the infra-red grill would render the insulin useless and the box could then be returned to Miss Bowker’s handbag. When she came in a short time later she gave herself the first of the useless injections. Then she ate her meal, with her previous injection still carrying her over. Then she had the liqueur and emetic. Shortly afterwards she began to feel the effects. The meal had been taken at half-past seven. In less than three hours from the start of it, she was at home, feeling sick. Shortly after that she vomited, gave herself the second useless injection and then, I imagine, was seriously sick again and again, unable even to summon help. She made her way to her bed, lay down, prostrate, became comatose very quickly and then, much later, died.’
‘It’s too solid to be wrong,’ Hook said. ‘But how did Cora Dent know all that about an emetic and how to make insulin useless?’
Masters said, ‘She made contact with Sisson’s nurse, who in former days had been working in the diabetic clinic of the hospital. We heard from Miss Breese that Nurse Ward had visited Mrs Dent early on Saturday evening. She was seen leaving the house at a quarter to seven. I believe it was her report that decided Mrs Dent to act that night. You see, sir, Miss Bowker had told Dr Sisson only that morning that she and Brian intended to have children, and to start having them immediately they were married. Nurse Ward—with whom this particular conversation between Miss Bowker and Sisson was a very sore point—had obviously hurried to Mrs Dent to report it. For Mrs Dent this was the last straw. She was already prepared to murder Sally to prevent her marrying Brian; she was prepared to murder Sally immediately at the thought of her producing children which might, just possibly, but improbably, carry the same defect as their mother. A form of madness, no doubt. But to confirm what I say, Inspector Green will give us the gist of Nurse Ward’s formal statement.’
‘It’s the old story,’ Green said. ‘Ward was flattered by the attention paid to her by Mrs Dent. It started soon after Bowker was diagnosed as diabetic. According to Ward, when she worked in the hospital, Mrs Dent, who was always in and out, never noticed her. Then I think Sally Bowker must have mentioned Nurse Ward at the Dents’ house. There was an accidental meeting on purpose between Ward and Mrs Dent. Engineered by Dent in a coffee shop. Dent said, “You’re Nurse Ward, aren’t you? Yes, I thought I recognized you. My son’s fiancée tells me you’re looking after her now. Splendidly, she says. Do you mind if I have my coffee with you? Thank you. You must tell me all about diabetes so that I know how to look after Sally, too. Her parents are away, you know, and I feel so responsible for her.” That was the form. As we know, Ward is keen on Sisson. Sisson was keen on Bowker, and Ward knew it. She would do anything to keep Bowker in cahoots with young Dent and away from Sisson. Ward and Mrs Dent met about once a month and, as Mrs Dent intended they should, the meetings deteriorated into little more than tittle-tattle sessions about Bowker. After each of Bowker’s visits to the surgery, Ward reported what went on to Dent. Dent encouraged these meetings. Ward reported to her as usual on the Saturday that Bowker died—or, more correctly, the Saturday before she died.’
Green handed round the packet of Kensitas he had been holding while he spoke. He then went on: ‘Nurse Ward admits she reported overhearing Miss Bowker tell Dr Sisson that she and young Dent intended to start a family immediately they were married.’
There was a short pause, then Masters continued: ‘As I said a moment ago, I think that news infuriated Mrs Dent. Made her determined to act immediately. She saw Nurse Ward away at a quarter to seven—the visit hadn’t been noticed by Dent, who was watching television, or by the youngsters, who were swimming—then she went into action. She first of all ruined the insulin. That would be the only tricky part, and it could only have taken her two or three minutes at the most—to open the bag, put the carrying-case under the heat, and then put it back in the bag.’
‘It would be hot,’ Green commented.
‘They use tongs for these grills.’
‘I know that. But putting it back in the bag.’
‘Easy. The bag was in the cloakroom. Mrs Dent could carry in the hot case and lock the door behind her while she waited for the case to cool. If Miss Bowker had come along and tried the door, what would she think?’
‘That Mrs D. was in there having a jimmy,’ Green suggested.
‘Quite. The natural assumption. So as soon as the case was cool enough, into the bag it could go. If Miss Bowker was waiting outside, flushing the lavatory would help convince her that Mrs Dent was in there for an innocuous purpose. After that, I expect, Mrs Dent made her solution of zinc sulphate—quite openly, because nobody would question her making a mixture in her own kitchen—carried it through to the wine cupboard, hid it there, took the Drambuie and Benedictine bottles, emptied them, and then took them back to the wine cupboard. Five minutes’ work at most and, as I say, it wouldn’t have mattered if anybody had seen her doing any of it except grilling the carrying-case and pouring away the liqueurs.
‘The whole plan worked like clockwork. Nobody else could have been responsible. Brian was swimming until after Sally gave herself her first injection. Harry Dent didn’t serve the Anisette. The Bancrofts didn’t go into the kitchen or leave the table during the meal.’
Hook said heavily, ‘And that’s it?’
‘Except for the identification parade and a check for Mrs Dent’s fingerprints among those taken off Sally Bowker’s bag. There are some of a woman other than Sally herself.’
‘What about the carrying-case?’
‘Too many of us handled that; and in any case, as they handle things with tongs or a fish slice in these infra-red grills there might not have been any identifiable ones. Anyhow, it’s immaterial. You’ve got the whole story with material confirmation to support the circumstantial evidence.’
Hook got to his feet. ‘I don’t know how the devil you do it,’ he said.
‘My written report will be very much fuller. You’ll find your answer in there.’
‘Maybe. I doubt if even you can write up what you owe to commonsense and ability. However, that’s not my affair. I’ll have to arrest Cora Dent.’
‘And we’ll be going straight away if you don’t mind, sir.’
‘But I do mind. I’ve got Mr and Mrs Bowker coming over tonight. They’ll want to thank you.’
Masters shivered mentally. ‘Please tell them I had another urgent job waiting for me.’
‘Is there really another one lined up already?’ Hook said.
‘I never knew the time when there wasn’t,’ replied Green.
On the road home, Green said, ‘I didn’t think you’d make it.’
‘You mean you were dead scared we wouldn’t.’
Green blustered. ‘What d’you mean? Scared?’
�
�Because you’re a sentimental old humbug. Right from the start you fell for that photo of Sally Bowker and you wanted to find her murderer so desperately you got scared that we shouldn’t succeed.’
Green had the grace to blush.
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Masters and Green Series Box Set Page 82
