A Passion for Poison

by Carol Ann Lee

  ‘All right,’ said Graham, ‘but I don’t understand why I’ve been arrested.’

  DC Bibby replied patiently, ‘It’s quite simple. You know what “you’ve been arrested” means, you know what “suspicious” means, and you know what “murder” means. So what is there to understand?’

  Graham’s next question placed him firmly in the frame: ‘Yes, but which one is it for?’

  ‘You probably know more about it than I do,’ said Bibby. ‘I can tell you no more than you’ve already been told.’

  Sounding slightly peeved, Graham insisted, ‘I only want to know what I’ve been arrested for.’

  The police officer said firmly, ‘I don’t know which one.’586

  Rees and Marsh reappeared in the doorway, followed by Fred Young. They had searched the room where Graham slept but found nothing of interest. Fred stood on the doorstep, watching as the two men climbed into the car. His sister and brother-in-law remained in the kitchen, too distraught to join him as the car set off quietly down the long terraced street towards the junction at the end. The right-hand indicator winked in the darkness, and a moment later the car disappeared. Fred recalled what he did next: ‘I walked slowly upstairs to my bedroom, took out every photograph, tiny snapshot, letter and piece of paper that could remind me of him – even his birth certificate – and tore them in small pieces.’587

  Chapter Twenty

  IN THE PORCHES OF MY EARS

  G

  RAHAM WAS DIVESTED of his clothing soon after arrival at Sheerness police station. He removed his raincoat and jacket, shoes and socks, tie, shirt, vest, trousers and underpants reluctantly, handing them to DS Rees, who placed them all inside brown paper sacks for safekeeping. He was given a thick woollen blanket to wrap around himself before being led into a cell, where he would remain for approximately three hours.

  DCI Kirkpatrick arrived from Hemel Hempstead shortly after 3am. Standing squarely in front of Graham, Kirkpatrick introduced himself and the two men at his side, ‘I am Detective Chief Inspector Kirkpatrick and this is Sergeant Livingstone and Constable Lynch.’ He cautioned Graham, adding, ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of murder and you will be taken to Hemel Hempstead where further inquiries will be made.’

  Still clad only in the blanket given to him by DS Rees, Graham was placed in the police car. Detective Sergeant Livingstone sat next to him, while Kirkpatrick sat in the front passenger seat with Lynch at the wheel. They had scarcely left the station before Graham leaned forward to speak to Kirkpatrick: ‘Is it permitted to ask you one or two questions, Inspector?’588

  Kirkpatrick turned his head slightly to the right, ‘Yes, if you wish.’

  ‘What are the precise details of the charge against me?’

  ‘It hasn’t yet been decided that you will be charged,’ Kirkpatrick replied. ‘A great deal of work has still to be done.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Graham said, chirpily. ‘I appreciate that in a case such as this there is a tremendous amount to do, but surely you must supply us details of the possible charge.’

  ‘A case such as this? What do you mean by that?’

  ‘We won’t go into that now,’ Graham admonished. ‘Surely you are bound to tell me the name of the person I’m supposed to have murdered.’

  Kirkpatrick told him, ‘We’re making inquiries concerning the death of your workmate, Frederick Biggs, who you know died on Friday morning.’

  ‘Yes indeed, Inspector, but as far as I know he died of some kind of virus which appears to have affected a number of other people at Hadlands.’

  ‘That was the doctor’s opinion.’

  ‘I presume it’s only one man I’m accused of killing.’

  ‘As I said, at the moment I am concerned only with Mr Biggs, but it is more than likely that you can also give me some details of the illness suffered by David Tilson and Mr Batt, and there is also the case of Mr Egle, but at the moment we are only concerned with Mr Biggs.’

  Piously, Graham responded, ‘I shall want more than that, Inspector. What am I supposed to have done?’

  ‘You tell me what I think you have done.’

  ‘Certainly not, Inspector,’ Graham rebuked him. ‘As you’ve told me, it’s my entitlement to say nothing and I would much prefer to wait and see what develops. Presuming for the moment I’m guilty of a crime, I remain innocent until you have proven otherwise.’ He sat back in his seat and declared: ‘No, I shall wait.’589

  The remainder of the long journey passed in silence. It was 5:50am on Sunday morning when the vehicle pulled into the car park of the modern, elongated police station on Combe Street, half a mile from Graham’s digs. Livingstone took him through the building and left him in a detention cell for no more than half an hour. He then collected Graham again and led him into Kirkpatrick’s office, where the chief inspector was waiting. Beside him sat Detective Chief Superintendent Harvey, who was reading Graham’s diary.

  As Livingstone left the room, DCI Kirkpatrick formally cautioned Graham again without introducing Harvey, who did not look up from the blue-backed book. Graham stared at the chief superintendent until Kirkpatrick said, ‘As I told you on the journey back from Sheerness, we are making inquiries into the death of Mr Biggs.’

  Graham removed his gaze from Harvey and looked at Kirkpatrick. ‘You referred to deaths before – plural.’

  ‘There’s no doubt you’ll be questioned concerning other matters,’ the detective replied, ‘but at the moment I want you to concentrate on Fred Biggs.’

  Graham raised his chin slightly: ‘I realised in the car that you were trying to avoid the subjects of Bob Egle, Dave and Jeff, but it was you who mentioned their names –’

  ‘For the moment you’re under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Fred Biggs,’ Kirkpatrick cut in, but then Graham interrupted, ‘I maintain that the detective sergeant at Sheerness said murders plural. My uncle will be a witness.’

  ‘He could not have said murders. I spoke to him on the telephone. In fact, I have a copy of the message here and I plainly told him that you were to be detained on suspicion of murder.’

  Graham looked steadily at the detective, ‘We will agree to differ.’

  At this point, Harvey closed the foolscap pad and raised his head. ‘I’m Detective Chief Superintendent Ronald Harvey. Mr Kirkpatrick has cautioned you and now I’ll do the same.’

  Graham replied, ‘Yes, the inspector has shown that he’s conversant with the judge’s rules and I trust you are too.’

  Harvey ignored his heavy sarcasm and recited the caution. Having flicked through the enormously technical Thallium Poisoning and then Graham’s diary, he had plenty of questions. Not least about possible victims; Harvey had worked out six of those identified by initials in the diary, but was unable to decipher two others. Above all, he was keen to ensure that neither Batt nor Tilson, nor anyone else who was still suffering as a result of Graham’s love of poison, paid the ultimate price.

  Harvey gestured towards the notepad: ‘This diary was taken from your room last night by my officers. Is it yours?’

  Graham nodded, ‘Yes.’

  ‘I want you to look at every page and tell me if all of the writing is yours.’

  Graham thumbed through the diary. ‘Yes, I wrote it,’ he said.

  ‘The diary refers to people by an initial. Who are they?’

  Graham shrugged, ‘Figments of my imagination. I was preparing to write a fiction story and those are my notes.’

  Harvey frowned, ‘The initials seem to refer to actual people. They’re not people with whom you worked?’

  Graham sighed, ‘Do I have to repeat myself? They’re all imaginary.’

  Harvey picked up the diary and thumbed through it himself. ‘I think “B” is probably Robert Egle and “F” is Fred Biggs.’ He glanced up at Graham. ‘Both those men are dead. The others are people who’ve been ill, at least two of them seriously. Did you give these people poison?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  Harvey sai
d, ‘We’ve also taken various substances from your room. Some of them are marked “poison”. Do they belong to you?’

  ‘I expect so. I had poisons there but that doesn’t mean I poisoned anybody.’ Graham paused, then said impatiently, ‘Look, Inspector – I’m sorry, Superintendent – you first have to identify the poisons with which you allege I poisoned these people, then you have to show the opportunity. If you say I did it, then how did I do it? Lastly comes motive. I would suggest you need all three, shall we say – means, opportunity, motive?’590

  A knock came at the door. It was Sergeant Livingstone; he asked Kirkpatrick if he could have a word. The two men left the room and Chief Superintendent Harvey continued questioning Graham.

  ‘For the moment we will forget about the two dead men,’ he said, ‘and concern ourselves with the living. Two of them are really very ill. I appeal to you to tell me if you’ve poisoned these people and what you’ve used. I need to tell the doctors how to treat them.’

  Graham sat silently, gazing down at his hands where they clutched the blanket to his chest.

  ‘Look,’ said Harvey, ‘Some of these people offered you friendship. They tried to help you, now you have the chance to help them.’

  Graham looked up, ‘As you say, these people are my friends, so where is the motive?’ He shook his head vigorously, ‘No, you are trying to trick me.’

  ‘I’m not trying to trick you at all. It will take time to analyse the substances taken from your room. In the meantime, people will get worse and others might die.’

  Graham glared at him, ‘You’re suggesting that I’m a monster, some sort of mass poisoner who just poisons people regardless. That is not so.’ He sat determinedly upright. ‘I’ve got nothing further to say.’

  Harvey persisted, ‘If you’ve done wrong, you can put some of it right by helping people who are sick. Now think of that.’591

  But Graham said nothing.

  Later described by Harvey as ‘icily polite’, Graham subsequently told his barrister that his police interviews had been unduly affected by his having been stripped of his clothing and made to walk about in nothing but a blanket ‘like a Sioux Indian’.592 He had felt ‘oppressed’ by the nature of his arrest and the fact that ‘I hadn’t had the opportunity to wash, shave, or comb my hair. My feet were filthy from tramping about the police station. Due to oversight or omission, I hadn’t been fed. All these had a depressing influence upon me.’593

  Together with Graham’s emotional state, which he described as ‘shocked anxiety’, this allegedly coloured what he told detectives, a matter raised by Sir Arthur Irvine QC at trial.594 ‘He never complained to me,’ was Harvey’s response. ‘The office was quite warm and we did get other clothing for him later in the day.’595 Sergeant Robert Livingstone went home to retrieve some of his son’s clothing for Graham. The incident set up the classic good cop/bad cop routine, creating an environment in which Graham was predisposed to view Livingstone (and to some degree, Kirkpatrick) as approachable, while Harvey appeared tough and unrelenting.

  Chief Inspector Kirkpatrick took over questioning Graham at 7:20am in his office, while Harvey was required elsewhere. Kirkpatrick began where Harvey had ended.

  ‘As you know, Graham, two of your workmates have been seriously ill in hospital and one of them has not yet been discharged. We are very concerned about him and we need your help.’596

  Graham looked at him. ‘You mean Jeff Batt. I know he’s been very ill, Inspector.’ He fell silent again and was still but for his fingertips, which tapped lightly on his lap. He met Kirkpatrick’s steady gaze, ‘I can’t possibly tell you everything, but some things I will.’ After a pause, his words tumbled out: ‘I seemed to be a misfit when I was younger. Not like other children. I used to draw within myself. A loner. I read a lot and became obsessed with the macabre. Toxicology always fascinated me. My father had married again and I began to experiment.’

  Kirkpatrick, however, was only concerned at that stage with the recent spate of poisonings. ‘Tell me about Bob Egle, Dave Tilson, Jeff Batt and Fred Biggs.’

  But Graham refused. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector, that’s as much as I’m prepared to say. You’ll have to give me time, I’m not thinking clearly.’597 And with that, he would say no more.

  While Graham was being interviewed, Detective Inspector John Ratcliff collected all the toxic substances, chemicals and containers found at 29 Maynard Road and conveyed them to an address in Pinner. This was the home of forensic scientist Nigel Fuller, who examined everything and read Graham’s diary. The two men then discussed the case at length. Detective Constable Michael Grinsted conducted another search of Graham’s room and took possession of several items of clothing. He then prised open the loft door in the ceiling above the bed and climbed into the attic, where he found one small bottle of tablets. He returned to Hemel Hempstead police station to seal and label everything.

  Several witness statements were taken that day, including the testimonies of John Bell & Croyden chemist Albert Kearne and the ailing Jethro Batt. Graham’s sister called at the police station. Clearly upset but very concerned about her brother, she asked to speak to whomever was in charge of Graham’s arrest. DCS Harvey emerged from his office. He sent for a cup of tea, then sat Winifred down and told her, ‘I’m so sorry, but it’s about as bad as it can be. I can’t pretend there’s anything I can say to soften it. We think your brother has poisoned two people. Mr Biggs died in hospital on Friday and two other young men are seriously ill.’598 Winifred spent the rest of the day ‘in a very bad way’.599

  At 3:45 on Sunday afternoon, Graham was brought back to Kirkpatrick’s office. The Chief Inspector waited for him to take a seat, then after cautioning him said, ‘I’ve heard that Batt’s condition is deteriorating. He’s had hallucinations and appears to be suffering mentally.’600

  Graham’s response was swift, ‘Well, that concerns me, Inspector, because it’s obvious that the doctors aren’t treating him properly. I’m anxious that Jeff should be properly treated and I’ll tell you what to tell the hospital, although I won’t tell you the agent I used.’

  ‘Even that is going to be of considerable assistance. Please tell me.’

  ‘They must treat him with dimercaprol potassium chloride.’

  Kirkpatrick reached for a pen, ‘Please spell that.’

  Graham spelled it out.

  Kirkpatrick lay down his pen and looked at him. ‘You’ve told me the treatment. But do you honestly expect the doctors to take notice of this coming from a layman? They’ll want to know the cause of the sickness.’

  Graham shook his head slowly, ‘I’m sorry, Inspector, I can’t tell you any more.’

  Kirkpatrick got up and left the room to convey Graham’s information to the hospital where Batt lay seriously ill. He returned to his office, where Graham was still sitting stiffly as he had before.

  ‘You’ve told me something about the treatment necessary for Mr Batt,’ he said, leaning against his desk. ‘I’d like to know something about the death of Mr Egle and Mr Biggs and Dave Tilson’s sickness.’

  Graham turned his head slightly, ‘Is there someone listening at the door?’

  ‘No, one of my officers is sitting out there purely for security purposes.’

  ‘How do I know you aren’t recording this conversation?’

  ‘I can only assure you that I am not, and you are at liberty to have a look around the office if you wish.’

  Graham bowed his head then and remained silent for some time, apparently deep in thought. He raised his head and gave the chief inspector a direct look. ‘I’ll tell you about the two deaths and about the sickness of the other two. I cannot tell you the agent I used.’ He paused. ‘The whole story is too terrible. You’ll be disgusted and amazed.’

  DCI Kirkpatrick replied, ‘Nothing you tell me will amaze me, but carry on. It’s important I know the details from you.’

  Graham announced: ‘Bob Egle: wrongly diagnosed. Not acute infected polyneuriti
s. Certainly a neurosis, but you and obviously the doctors think the deaths are connected but for the wrong reasons. The agent I used I made up myself.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘I can’t tell you at this stage.’

  ‘How did you introduce it?’

  ‘By pouring it in the tea.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘At the breaks, sometimes in the morning and sometimes afternoon.’

  ‘Was the agent the same in all four cases?’

  ‘Yes. Well, at least for all practical purposes.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘I don’t know whether I should say, Inspector.’

  ‘Is it really going to make any difference now?’

  At that, Graham got up from his chair and began to pace the room, talking to himself intently, repeating, ‘Yes, it’s over, the charade is over. It’s over, the charade is over.’

  Suddenly he sat down and continued as calmly as before: ‘It was the same, but in the case of the deaths, I used the powder and the others liquid.’

  ‘You dissolved the powder first, you mean?’

  Graham nodded.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Just by dissolving it in water.’

  ‘Was the amount the same in all cases?’

  Graham raised his eyebrows, ‘No, it certainly wasn’t. I gave Bob one very large dose of the powder.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Always the same, at tea break. I simply poured it in the tea.’

  ‘And the others?’

  ‘Dave Tilson and Jeff Batt: two smaller doses of the liquid. Fred Biggs: three fair amounts of the powder.’

  Kirkpatrick said, ‘I obviously want you to explain everything in greater detail. Do you wish to make a written statement?’

  Graham considered, ‘No, I don’t think so at this stage. I’m not prepared to commit anything to paper. I may retract all I’ve said.’

  Kirkpatrick warned him, ‘Well, that’s a matter for you, but as you’re aware, a full record of this conversation will be made.’ He gave that a moment to sink in, then asked, ‘Another employee at the firm with whom you came into contact, Di Smart, has been ill. Have you administered anything to her?’