The Cyanide Ghost (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 6)

by Linda Stratmann

  There have been comments in the Sussex newspapers of late that Mr Beckler has taken a photograph of the spirit of a deceased person which he has placed on display in the window of his shop. You know my interest in the supernatural and I wondered if you had seen the picture. If you have, I would value your opinion.

  Respectfully yours,

  B Honeyacre

  Mina thought long and hard before she responded.

  Dear Mr Honeyacre,

  Thank you for your good wishes. My health is improving, and I am permitted to make careful excursions about Brighton, which is very attractive at this time of year. The air is extremely invigorating.

  I am happy to know that Mrs Honeyacre is in good health and spirits. Please convey all my best wishes in anticipation of an event which will bring great joy to you both. A visit to Hollow House in good company and pleasant weather is certainly something I look forward to.

  I am not sure if you know this, but my brother Richard is now employed in Mr Beckler’s business. He has told me that there is a scheme in hand whereby they are taking pictures of important monuments in the Extra Mural Cemetery. I assume that this has been done with the intention of providing an excuse to approach the prominent families in Brighton as he wishes to acquire their custom. You may make your own conclusions from that information. You are not alone in receiving a letter from Mr Beckler.

  I have seen some ghost portraits produced by Mr Beckler, and since I have no expertise in this area, I have recently consulted the premier photographer of Brighton, Mr J E Mayall, whose portraits of the royal family are of particular note. It is not yet possible to say with any certainty whether Mr Beckler’s pictures are portraits of actual spirits, artefacts produced by the camera or a deliberate trick by the photographer. My advice would be to reserve your judgement for the present time.

  Yours in friendship,

  M Scarletti

  Mina’s second letter was from her mother’s friend, Mrs Peasgood. Mina, recalling that the late Charles Peasgood was one of the names on Mr Beckler’s list of monuments, had a strong suspicion why the lady might be writing to her. When she opened it, her fears were realised.

  Dear Miss Scarletti,

  I do hope this letter finds you well.

  I would be most grateful if you would consent to take tea with me at four o’clock this afternoon. I hesitate to trespass on your good will, but I do so value your good sense, and wish to consult you on a question of great personal importance and delicacy. I know that you will treat this with the confidence it requires.

  Assuring you of my great good wishes,

  Respectfully,

  M Peasgood

  Despite the lack of explicit detail, Mina had no difficulty in guessing what had provoked the letter. She was not one to place wagers but if she had been, she would have been prepared to risk a large sum that Mrs Peasgood had also received a letter from Mr Beckler and now had a photograph of her husband’s spirit. Having said that, she was unsure of why Mrs Peasgood had deemed the question to be a matter of great delicacy. Her natural curiosity was aroused.

  Mina looked once more at the list of individuals whose graves had been photographed by Mr Beckler. Aloysius Phipps, Eleanor Honeyacre, Charles Peasgood, Frederick Soules, Hector Samprey, Edith Porterson-White, Bertram Veale, Robert Mulgrew.

  The families of the first three she now knew to have received letters from Mr Beckler and suspected that as in the case of Mr Aloysius Phipps, relatives of the other two would also find that a ghost of their deceased loved one would be standing by the family grave. Even though Mina had not met any members of the other families, she now strongly suspected that all of them would, if they enquired, receive similar spirit pictures. Why Mr Beckler had chosen these families she did not as yet know.

  She did wonder briefly why her father’s image had appeared on the betrothal picture rather than one taken of the grave. On reflection she guessed that had Mr Beckler decided to take a picture of the Scarletti grave Richard would have told her, and Mr Beckler had quite rightly anticipated not only objections to this but also arousing Mina’s deep suspicions. The betrothal pictures, however, had been taken at the request of the family. The fact that the image of Henry Scarletti had been positioned beside Mina was to her mind a clear ploy to induce her to accept Mr Hope’s views.

  Following her discussion with Mr Mayall, Mina realised that if Mr Beckler was a fraud of Mr Mumler’s ilk, it would be an extremely hard thing to prove, even for an expert photographer. Crucially, Mr Mayall’s judgement was that such convincing fakery required an existing photograph. Mr Aloysius Phipps, however, had never had a photograph taken and the image of Henry Scarletti did not match any known photograph of him. With these mysteries on her mind, Mina wrote a note to Mrs Peasgood accepting her invitation to tea.

  Mrs Peasgood, a lady approaching the age of sixty without noticeable regret, had been left in comfortable circumstances on the death of her husband. She occupied a tastefully appointed home in Marine Square, together with her sister, Mrs Mowbray, whose late husband had not treated her with similar generosity. There, in a drawing room of substantial size, they regularly hosted musical soirees and dramatic readings of plays and poetry which were attended by those who considered themselves to be the most discerning members of Brighton Society. It went without comment that an invitation to Mrs Peasgood’s entertainments was a singular honour to be mentioned at every opportunity to others less fortunate.

  Mina and her mother had recently received a notice of future events, which were to include evenings of recitals of the sonnets and great speeches of Shakespeare. This cheered Mina, as it revealed that her friend Mr Merridew would be returning to Brighton next month. She wondered if he would go to Mr Beckler to be photographed in his pantomime costumes.

  Mina was shown to Mrs Peasgood’s parlour, a less formal, and more intimate location than the drawing room where comfort rather than display was paramount. A table was set with tea things, and Mina was pleased to see little tartlets filled with sliced apricots, redcurrants, and sweetened cream as well as a tempting lemon-yellow sponge cake, and tiny savoury sandwiches.

  Mrs Peasgood believed that life should be lived with calm and dignity, although these outward appearances did not conceal her essential kindness. She was not easy to get to know well but had good reason to be grateful to Mina. In the previous year she had suffered an embarrassing emotional breakdown in the Royal Pavilion, when old memories of a ghostly sighting she had hoped was long buried had risen once more to her consciousness. Mina’s guidance on the subject had afforded her considerable reassurance.

  Only once had Mrs Peasgood hosted a display of mediumship, which unknown to her, was one of Richard’s many hopeful enterprises. He had appeared before the company as Signor Ricardo, sporting a black mask, a dreadful Italian accent and an even worse moustache, promoting the extraordinary skills of the medium, who was called Miss Foxton. The medium was actually Nellie. A former magician’s assistant, she was an accomplished trickster and illusionist in her own right. It was at this event that she had appeared as a flying spirit in a form-fitting spangled costume and her exuberant charms had drawn the attention of Mr Jordan and led to their subsequent marriage.

  Mrs Peasgood, shocked by the performance and the emotions it had aroused in the audience, had since declared that she would not host entertainments of that nature again. Following her fright in the Royal Pavilion, she had, as far as Mina was aware, shown no further interest in spiritualism in any form.

  The maid, under Mrs Peasgood’s instructions, ensured that Mina was comfortably seated, then deftly poured out the tea and supplied plates and dessert forks, then departed like a spectre without a whisper of sound. Mrs Peasgood tasted the edge of a sandwich, but her mind was not on food.

  ‘It is very good of you to come,’ she said at last. ‘I feel ashamed to burden you with my troubles once again.’

  ‘If there is anything I can do to alleviate them, it would be my pleasure to do so,’ said
Mina.

  Mrs Peasgood laid aside the remains of her sandwich and touched her fingertips to a folded napkin. ‘I — received a letter yesterday from the photographer, Mr Beckler. I understand your brother works for him. It was a most — unexpected letter.’

  ‘I guessed as much,’ said Mina.

  Mrs Peasgood studied her expression. ‘Have you received a letter from Mr Beckler?’

  ‘No, but I am aware of others who have.’

  Mrs Peasgood looked relieved. ‘Then you will know to what I am referring. I went to see him. And I saw a picture he had taken of the grave of my late husband.’ She allowed herself a moment of reflection. ‘May I show you the picture?’

  ‘Please do.’

  Mrs Peasgood took an envelope from a side table. ‘I purchased the picture,’ she said, unhappily. ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’ She drew a photograph from the envelope and handed it to Mina.

  Mina recognised the Peasgood grave she had seen so recently, but this time the figure of a man, clear yet slightly translucent, stood just in front of it. He was tall, and appeared to be in his middle fifties, a little portly perhaps, but robust. He wore a broad cravat with a floral design fastened by a pearl stickpin and held what appeared to be a medical book open in one hand. ‘I regret that I never met your husband. Can you assure me that there is no doubt in your mind this is he?’

  ‘None whatsoever.’

  ‘That is a very distinctive cravat.’

  Mrs Peasgood managed a fond smile. ‘A favourite of his. He was known for his colourful cravats. Ask anyone who knew him. And the pin was a gift from me on the occasion of our silver wedding. I wear it often in his memory.’ Mrs Peasgood touched a hand to her collar, which, Mina noticed, was adorned with the pearl-headed pin.

  ‘And does the image you see here match any previous photographs you have of him?’ Mina was about to elaborate but decided against it. It was best to have the widow’s untrammelled opinion without planting suspicion.

  ‘I do have another picture of him.’ Mrs Peasgood rose and went to the mantelpiece and brought a framed portrait. In this picture, Charles Peasgood was seated at a table, on which lay some medical texts and an old-fashioned wooden monocular stethoscope.

  Mina compared the two, and there was no doubt that they were portraits of the same man, though one could not be a copy of the other. The man beside the monument stood facing the observer. The man at the table was seated and half turned towards the camera. There was something that looked like a certificate displayed on the wall. Not only did he appear to be the same age in both portraits, but he wore the same suit of clothes, cravat and stickpin. The two pictures might well have been taken within moments of each other.

  ‘When was this taken?’

  ‘Oh, it must have been about twelve years ago. Charles was awarded a memorial by one of the medical societies — you can see it in the frame behind him.’

  ‘Who was the photographer?’

  ‘I really don’t know. I believe the medical society arranged it. You might think this strange, but the thing that heartens me is that he is holding one of his medical volumes. It means that Charles’s spirit is still engaged in doing good, in doing what he loved.’

  Mina wasn’t sure if there was a need for physicians in the afterlife but did not mention this. ‘Would you be willing to let me see the back of the photograph?’

  Mrs Peasgood looked surprised but said, ‘You may look if you wish.’

  Mina unfastened the catch at the back of the frame and eased up the back plate. The picture had been mounted on card, but it was blank. Frustratingly there was no indication of the name of the photographer.

  Mina restored the picture as it had been. ‘Do you wish me to offer an opinion on whether the picture taken by Mr Beckler is genuine?’ she asked.

  Mrs Peasgood looked startled. ‘But it is Charles. It could not be anyone else. I am quite satisfied of that. No, it is something else. I have hesitated and thought about it, but I feel that maybe Charles was trying to send me a message. Do you think I should consult a medium?’

  ‘But is this not message enough?’ asked Mina, choosing to deflect the question. ‘Your husband is content. Do you need to know more?’

  Mrs Peasgood clasped a hand to her face. She was on the brink of displaying some deep emotion, something that haunted her memory more powerfully than any ghost could. Mina poured more tea and her hostess gratefully took a deep gulp, coughed and almost choked then dabbed at her lips with her napkin and recovered herself.

  ‘Miss Scarletti,’ she said at last. ‘I must take you into my confidence once more. I know I can trust you. In fact, I am about to tell you something I could not even share with my own sister. She is a dear thing, but sometimes, she says things without thinking, and — well, you know what I mean.’ She set down her cup. ‘Towards the end of his life, Charles began to experience feelings of deep melancholy. What a doctor needs above all is confidence. He needs to feel confident in his treatment, his knowledge and the effectiveness and purity of the medicine he administers. But that seemed to desert him.

  ‘I discovered that he had been suffering from a painful affliction, one that he did not think was curable, and all he could do to help himself was relieve the pain. He became very dependent on medicines to alleviate the pain, and I think they clouded his judgement, which he realised to his great distress that he could no longer depend upon. I do not believe that he made any errors due to this, only that he was afraid he might do if he continued to practise medicine. He was not an old man, but he decided to retire. He continued to read the medical journals. He took an interest in architecture and history. But sometimes the pain did overwhelm him, although most of the time be bore it stoically.

  ‘One afternoon he told me he was going to take a rest and did not wish to be disturbed. I did not see him for some hours, and when I eventually went to see if he required anything he was quite gone from the world. He seemed to be at peace. There was an enquiry, and it concluded that he had died of a failure of the heart. But that failure was due to what was presumed to be a large injection of the drug that alleviated his pain. An injection which any doctor in full health would have known might prove fatal.

  ‘The coroner decided that Charles was in such in severe pain from his disease that he had had a momentary lapse of judgement and might have miscalculated the dose. His death was recorded as accidental. I shall never truly know what went through his mind. He never left me a note or a message. I did, I confess, visit a medium shortly after his death, a Mrs Ragdon, but she told me no more than she might have read in the newspapers and gave me her sincere assurance that he was at peace.

  ‘And now — and now this. It is Charles, it is undoubtedly Charles. Not some shadow or cloud that I could delude myself is he, no, the figure is Charles, the way he stands, the way he looks. The way I remember him in full health, as he was more bowed towards the end. He looks quite his old self, confident, assured, happy. Perhaps that is the message he wants to convey. To tell me that all was well and he did not as some people suggested take his own life from despair. I don’t know. Do you think I should consult a medium again? Can you recommend one?’

  Mina was moved by the widow’s obvious distress and took some time to consider her reply. ‘Mrs Peasgood, I have no recommendations for you except to say that if you do decide to visit a medium, do not succumb to increasing demands on your purse. There are charlatans who have no desire other than to make money by cheating. Others only look for fame, or to amuse themselves. Some are honest and wish to benefit others. Whether they are genuine or not I can’t say. But all of them I can tell you with some confidence will tell you only what you most wish to hear. People go to mediums for comfort when they are in distress, for certainty when they are mired in uncertainty.’

  ‘Do you think my husband took his own life?’ said Mrs Peasgood pathetically.

  ‘I cannot answer that,’ said Mina.

  ‘But it is a sin, and I fear that we will never be re
united in heaven.’

  ‘None of us is without sin,’ said Mina, ‘the Bible teaches us that. Even if your husband committed one sin in his life, that will be far outweighed by the great good he did. And see, in this picture, he holds a medical book. He is still engaged with the thing he loved. Is that not a sure sign that he is in heaven?’

  Mrs Peasgood nodded. ‘You are right, of course you are right. What a comfort you are, Miss Scarletti. I am sure the good Lord has a place reserved for you where one day you will sit and dispense your words of wisdom to the world.’

  ‘Then be content, Mrs Peasgood. You know your husband to have been a good man, dedicated to the wellbeing of others. Is there really anything more you need to know?’

  Mrs Peasgood gazed at the portrait of her husband and was reassured.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was the final evening in Brighton for Mr Inskip, Enid, and their family. Louisa Scarletti was miserable to lose their company, protesting repeatedly that the dear grandchildren brought so much brightness into her life, adding that she hoped to receive good news as soon as possible after Edward’s wedding. Almost in the same breath she went on to wonder why Richard, now that he was a successful man of business, did not marry, since when he did and became a father then she could die content. She had bought some extravagant parting gifts, and all three of her ‘darling babies’ were showered with toys and sweetmeats and therefore took twice as long to settle into their nursery as usual.