The Cyanide Ghost (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 6)

by Linda Stratmann

  Mr Greville had recently written to Mina to send her payment for one of her stories, and she had every excuse to write to him.

  Dear Mr Greville,

  Thank you for your cheque on the publication of Horrid Tales from a Haunted House, and your very complimentary remarks on the work. You may indeed wonder where my ideas come from, and I sometimes wonder that myself, but in this particular case it is no mystery. A recent visit furnished me with ideas for a score of stories, and I only hope I shall have time to write them all.

  I was interested to learn that Edward has shown you the picture recently taken at his betrothal in which the image of our father appeared. He tells me that you were kind enough to show him some pictures in your family album showing my father at a picnic, which bear some resemblance to this new portrait. Please could you let me know the name and address of the photographer, as I would find it very interesting to speak to him. I am wondering if he might have some other pictures of my father, which would be greatly appreciated.

  Sincerely,

  M Scarletti

  Mina was pleased to receive a letter from her friend, the actor Mr Merridew, who informed her that he would be returning to Brighton in a week’s time and hoped to meet with her to be apprised of all the most important news of the town. Mina, who was interested to know his views on the matter, responded that the town was all a-chatter about Mr Beckler’s claim to produce spirit photographs, one of which was displayed in his shop window. She knew as she wrote the words that one of Mr Merridew’s first actions on his return to Brighton would be to pay a visit to Ship Street to examine the great novelty of the hour.

  She received a reply from Mr Greville in the next post.

  Dear Miss Scarletti,

  Thank you for your letter. If your ideas for Horrid Tales from a Haunted House came from personal experience, I can only be amazed. It is not a house I would ever care to visit.

  The photographs of the family picnic were taken by my wife’s cousin, Thomas Gooding. He had a small photographic business in London. The picnic photographs were done as a favour, as he was trying out different lenses and settings at the time, which does explain the varied results. Sadly, he passed away some eight years ago, and his business was sold to Mr J E Mayall of Regent Street. I made some enquiries there on your behalf, but it seems that only the equipment and materials were purchased, and Mr Mayall took over any existing accounts. They have no record of any pictures taken of your father.

  Sincerely,

  G Greville

  It had been a promising trail to follow, but there it had ended. Mina did not even know if there had been any further pictures taken, but if there had it was unlikely, under the circumstances, that they had survived. It was like finding two ends of a chain. She could not help feeling that the ends were part of the same chain, but there was a gap she could not bridge.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  At Mr Beckler’s shop, a new sign had been put on display which stated, ‘The Management regrets to advise that Lady Brighthelm has retired from her practice as a medium.’ Few customers had stopped to read it, and so Richard had been asked to paint a decorative border on the notice and move it to a more prominent position. This had made very little difference. Nothing, it seemed, would stop customers from coming in and requesting a consultation, even those who it appeared had troubled to read the sign. There were always those who hoped that despite the advice given to everyone, they might be regarded as an exception to the rule.

  Mr Beckler had ordered Richard to polish the picture frames on display, and was examining the appointment book when young Mr Clover arrived, bringing with him a lady he had not met before.

  ‘What may I do for you, Mr Clover?’ he asked. ‘I am occupied this morning, but I have time for a sitting this afternoon.’

  ‘Oh, it is not for a sitting,’ said Mr Clover. ‘Allow me to introduce my cousin, Miss Samprey.’

  Mr Beckler glanced at the lady. ‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Samprey.’

  She lowered her eyes suspiciously and shrank back from him.

  ‘Might I ask a few minutes of your time for a discussion?’ asked Mr Clover.

  Mr Beckler felt little inclined to give either of the visitors any of his time but consulted his watch and bowed. ‘Of course, I do have a few moments to spare before my next appointment.’

  Mr Clover raised no objection to Richard’s presence, and Richard made sure to remain as the conversation commenced.

  ‘As you know, I was extremely upset to hear of Lady Brighthelm’s indisposition,’ said Mr Clover. ‘I don’t suppose there is any possibility…?’ he ventured.

  ‘None, I am afraid. Her powers have quite vanished,’ said Mr Beckler, firmly.

  Mr Clover accepted the situation without further comment. ‘The fact is,’ he said brightly, ‘I was thinking that if you wished to employ another medium, I might have the answer.’

  Mr Beckler risked a look at Miss Samprey, who was staring at the floor. ‘Please go on.’

  ‘I do not pretend to have any gifts in that line myself, but it is my belief that the Samprey family all have some measure of psychic abilities. My cousins Mortimer and Charles, who are Clarissa’s brothers, have both told me that following the death of their older brother Hector some years ago, they have had vivid dreams in which he has appeared to them.’

  ‘That must be very distressing,’ said Mr Beckler. ‘Of course, many people dream of loved ones, family members they have lost, but that is not in itself evidence of psychic powers, unless of course the spirit provided them with some information they did not have before.’

  ‘He was murdered,’ said Clarissa, looking up so suddenly that Mr Beckler flinched. ‘Shot to death. They found his body by the sea. The bullet went through his heart.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mr Clover, ‘and that fact was not known until the day after his death, when his body was found, but the important point is that Clarissa dreamed about Hector’s death at about the same time it happened, but before the family learned of it.’

  ‘He had a gun,’ said Clarissa, ‘and his eyes were wild and staring. I knew something was wrong. But no one would believe me.’

  ‘I believe you,’ said Mr Clover, patting her hands, which she had bunched convulsively into lace-mittened fists.

  She pouted with annoyance. ‘Charles said it was all a dream, but I know what I saw!’

  ‘And it was a dream, my dear, it was,’ said Mr Clover, soothingly, ‘but a dream in which you saw what others could not see.’

  Mr Beckler looked at his watch again. ‘Mr Clover,’ he said politely, ‘what is the purpose of this conversation? Are you offering Miss Samprey’s services as a medium?’

  ‘Oh, I know her powers are as yet unformed, undirected,’ said Mr Clover. ‘I would not suggest that she comes here straightaway and sets up her booth as a replacement for Lady Brighthelm. Not yet. But I think if she could be developed by a suitable individual, she could in time achieve greatness in that line. Might I ask you — would you be willing to develop her?’

  Mr Beckler stared at Clarissa Samprey. ‘I have no talent in that direction. Lady Brighthelm’s talents may have blossomed here, but they did so entirely without my assistance.’

  ‘Then might I ask if you could arrange for her to be introduced to Viscount Hope?’

  ‘Of course,’ Mr Beckler said, ‘I will arrange an introduction as soon as Mr Hope is available. He is at present engaged in giving lectures with which he is planning to tour England, and writing a new book, so I cannot anticipate when that might be.’

  ‘I am so very grateful,’ said Mr Clover, presenting a business card.

  ‘It wasn’t a dream,’ said Clarissa Samprey through gritted teeth.

  ‘And now I have an appointment for a sitting and must bid you good day,’ said Mr Beckler, a little sharply.

  Soon after the visitors had gone, two policemen arrived. There was something about their manner that suggested they had not come to arrange a sit
ting. The more senior of the two consulted a notebook. ‘Mr Anthony Beckler?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Might we have a word with you? In private?’

  It was not a request.

  When Mina made her next weekly visit to the Oriental steam baths, she told Dr Hamid about her attendance at the funeral of Mrs Ragdon and the subsequent séance. Both of these accounts interested and surprised him, although he was anxious that she might be overtaxing herself before she was fully recovered. His examination, and review of the list of exercises she was undertaking under his sister’s supervision were able to satisfy that concern.

  ‘I don’t suppose you can enlighten me on the demise of Mr Ragdon and the illness of his wife?’ asked Mina.

  ‘I did not treat either of them, but I understand that Mr Ragdon ended his days in an asylum. He suffered from a disease of the brain. It is possible that Mrs Ragdon suffered in the same way but escaped that fate due to the care of her sister.’

  ‘Would she have been able to conduct séances?’

  ‘Towards the end of her life that would have been very doubtful.’

  Mina found the idea of being alive and conscious but not able to express herself very frightening. ‘Would she have been aware of her surroundings?’

  ‘I feel certain that she would have known nothing.’

  ‘We prayed by her bedside. I was hoping for answers, but I am not sure I found them.’

  ‘It is not good to dwell excessively on our troubles. We must prepare for the future, of course, that is always wise, but sometimes we use all our energies in worry when we would be better advised to use the greater part to consider the present.’

  ‘That is what I tell other people,’ said Mina, ruefully, ‘and likewise what they tell me.’

  ‘You should listen to them,’ he said. ‘Is Mr Hope causing you any concern? I saw his letter in the Gazette. My advice is to ignore it.’

  ‘He is being very careful not to make a direct attack in print. But he is giving a series of lectures in Brighton, and who knows what he is saying?’

  ‘If there is anything I can do to assist you, you must let me know,’ said Dr Hamid.

  ‘I will be sure to do so,’ Mina replied.

  When she returned home, she found Richard there earlier than expected. He was avoiding a conversation with their mother, and the sunshine had gone out of his manner. Something was obviously the matter.

  ‘I need to go out for a smoke,’ he said, when Mina asked him how he was.

  ‘Do you want to be alone, or would you like me to come with you?’ she asked.

  He managed the ghost of a smile. ‘It’s always better when I can talk to you,’ he said.

  Mina didn’t press him to say more. He would talk when he felt ready. They walked down to the sea front together, arm in arm, and leaned on the railings, looking out to sea. Richard lit a small cigar and looked thoughtful. The air was delicious. Mina could never understand why anyone would taint it with cigar smoke.

  ‘It was a very peculiar sort of day,’ said Richard, at last. He recounted what he had heard during the visit of Mr Clover and Miss Samprey to Mr Beckler’s shop. ‘Beckler was quite shaken up by it. All that talk of ghostly dreams and murder and guns. He said he thought they were both mad. Clover wanted him to introduce Miss Samprey to Mr Hope, but I could see he didn’t want to as he had no idea how that would end. For all he knew, the woman would go wild and be more trouble than she is worth. I know you don’t feel sorry for him, but I have to admit I rather did.’

  ‘There is nothing too strange in this world for Mr Hope,’ said Mina. ‘If someone came to him saying they had seen goblins and pixies and fairies dancing in their garden, he would claim it as the most wonderful discovery.’

  ‘Anyhow, that wasn’t the oddest thing. Two policemen came to the shop this afternoon asking to speak to Beckler. I overheard enough to know that they were from the Middlesex force. They all went into the office to talk, and when they came out Beckler was very shocked indeed. He’d obviously had some bad news. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, only that he had to go away and he didn’t know when he would be back, but he would send a telegram to let me know.’

  ‘Middlesex?’ said Mina, thoughtfully. ‘I know he has another business in Twickenham. That’s where he lived before coming to Brighton. Perhaps he has family there. If the police have come to see him, it must be serious.’

  ‘From the faces of the policemen, it was very serious,’ said Richard, gloomily. ‘Perhaps he’ll be arrested. And then what am I to do?’

  ‘Is the shop to be closed while he is away, or are you to manage it?’

  ‘Closed. I hope I’ll be paid. I mean, it wouldn’t be fair if I wasn’t. I had to stay on for a bit this afternoon because Mr Nye Chart from the theatre was sending a messenger to collect some pictures which he absolutely had to have today for some reason, but Beckler said that once that bit of business was done I was to lock up and go home.’ Richard frowned suddenly. ‘Now where did I put those keys?’ He patted his pockets, then dipping his hand in one, pulled out a bunch of keys. ‘Ah, yes, here they are.’ He pushed them back into his pocket.

  ‘I think you should take good care of those,’ said Mina. ‘Best put them in a drawer at home rather than walk about with them.’

  He nodded and flicked the stub of his cigar over the rail, then rested his chin on his hands and sighed.

  ‘You did remember to lock up the shop, didn’t you?’

  ‘Mm? Oh yes. Well, I think so. I’m almost sure I did.’

  Mina seized his arm and gave him a little shake. ‘Richard! Almost sure isn’t enough. A business like that has hundreds of pounds worth of equipment, not to mention a stock of poisonous chemicals. Arsenic, cyanide. There must be enough poison there to kill hundreds — thousands of people.’

  ‘That’s true. I could go along tomorrow morning, I suppose.’

  ‘No, Richard,’ Mina insisted, ‘we will get a cab and go there now. I know you’ll sleep soundly without making sure all is safe, but I certainly will not.’

  Richard knew better than to make other than the most token protest. He summoned a cab and before long they had alighted at the end of Ship Street to walk up to the shop. To Mina’s dismay, the ‘Open’ notice was still showing and when she pushed the door, it swung inwards and the bell tinkled.

  ‘I’ll just lock up now, then,’ said Richard, groping for the keys.

  ‘No, you won’t. You will go in and check that nothing has been taken.’

  Mina entered the shop and changed the notice on the door to ‘Closed’. Richard gave a sigh of resignation and followed her in. A quick examination showed that the doors of the darkroom, studio, storeroom and office were all locked. Richard cast an eye over the items on display, but nothing appeared to have been stolen.

  As Mina looked about her, she realised that as they were the only persons present it was possible to undertake a useful exercise.

  ‘Shall we go now?’ Richard asked plaintively.

  ‘Not yet. There is something you can help me with.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I am thinking about the day the poisoned chocolates were left here. And the gentleman customer.’

  ‘But I’ve already told all I know to the police.’

  Mina ignored his protest. ‘Let us pretend it is that day again. Where were you when the customer came in? The gentleman who wanted to buy a frame?’

  ‘I was standing behind the counter.’

  ‘Good. Just go there now.’

  Richard shrugged. ‘All right.’ He moved to stand behind the counter.

  ‘Now, imagine that I am that gentleman. I have just walked in.’ Mina went and stood by the door. ‘Where do I go from here?’

  ‘Well, you would walk up to the counter and stand there looking at the frames.’ He indicated the tiered wooden display stand on the counter stocked with a selection of frames.

  Mina moved to the counter to view the frames. ‘Is this where he stood?’


  ‘Yes, just about. I mean, he was taller than you.’

  ‘If you didn’t move, then this display is in between us. Were you able to see much of his face as he stood there? You didn’t move to look at him?’

  ‘No, why would I? I just let him look at the frames.’

  ‘So, here I am looking at them, but I don’t see what I want. What next?’

  ‘I must have said to him, “we have more in our catalogue”, or something of the sort, and put it on the counter for him to look at.’

  ‘And he looked at it?’

  ‘Yes, but not for very long. He said something like “do you have anything larger?”’

  ‘What was his voice like?’

  ‘Nothing in particular. Quiet. Mina, it’s very hard to remember all this.’

  ‘But there was nothing unusual? An accent?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I see. What happened next?’

  ‘He said something about my going to have a look for him, so I went into the storeroom.’

  ‘Then you went at his suggestion, not on your own initiative?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How long were you there looking?’

  ‘Not long. About a minute. I mean, I didn’t really bother to look because I knew we didn’t have anything else. Then the bell rang.’

  ‘The shop bell?’

  ‘Yes, so I came back because I thought another customer had come in.’

  ‘Go to the storeroom now.’

  ‘It’s locked.’

  ‘Then unlock it.’

  Richard obeyed, shaking his head, and after a minute, Mina crossed to the door and opened and closed it as if someone had entered. It was less than half a minute before Richard reappeared.

  ‘Who was in the shop when you came back?’