The Priest at Puddle's End

by Jason Blacker

  Florence pulled up outside his practice which was also attached to his home. You entered through the main gated entrance along a path amongst a well manicured lawn and gardens. A sign hung from a stake in the ground pointing to the side of the house for doctor’s visits.

  Frances and Florence got out of the car and walked up to the gate. It was a brisk morning, but the sun was out and promising an afternoon embrace of warmth. They entered through the gate and Florence let Frances lead. At the left side of the house towards the back was the entrance. Frances opened the door, ringing a bell as she did so that was attached to the door frame. They entered into a large waiting room. At the far end of the waiting room was a door that presumably led down a hall to the actual doctor’s examination rooms.

  “Hello, Ms. Hudnall,” said an attractive young woman in full bloom of youth. She had jet black hair held up in a bun with tortoiseshell glasses over a pretty, pale face. “I don’t have you down for a visit, but I’m sure Dr. Langdon can fit you in.”

  Florence smiled at the young woman as she and Frances walked up towards her at the reception desk.

  “I’m not here for a check up, dear. This is my friend Frances Marmalade.”

  The young woman smiled and nodded.

  “Yes, we’ve heard all about the great Lady Marmalade, detective extraordinaire,” she said with admiration rather than guile.

  Frances smiled as she shook hands with the young woman.

  “This is Victoria Langdon,” said Florence. “Dr. Langdon’s youngest daughter.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Frances.

  “And you too, my Lady.”

  “Please, it’s Frances.”

  “Are the two of you investigating that awful murder of Matilda Walmsley?” asked Victoria.

  “We are,” said Florence. “And we’d like to speak with your father about it.”

  “I don’t know how Daddy could help, but I know he’d be happy to help in any way he can. Are you close to catching whoever did it?”

  “I believe we are,” said Florence.

  “Let me tell Daddy you’re here. I’m sure he’ll be out as soon as he can.”

  “Thank you, dear,” said Florence. Victoria left her desk and entered through the door on her left side as she faced Frances and Florence.

  Florence and Frances went and sat down. There were six chairs along the wall and a small side table on either side of the chairs on each end. An older woman was sitting on the one end.

  “Good morning, Kiki,” said Florence to the woman sitting.

  “Good morning,” said Kiki.

  “Kiki Maier, this is my friend Frances Marmalade.”

  “How do you do, Frances,” said Kiki. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re here investigating Matilda’s murder. Terrible, just terrible.”

  “Yes, it is,” said Florence.

  Maier leaned in towards them.

  “You don’t think they’ll be coming for us next do you?”

  She looked genuinely worried.

  “Us?” asked Frances.

  “Kiki is the secretary over at Saint Swithin’s Anglican Church.”

  Frances nodded.

  “No, I don’t think this is random at all. In fact I think we’ve seen the last of it. At least I hope so, if we can determine who did it.”

  “But why? Why would anyone do such a thing? We may have been of different faiths but she was a pious woman. I knew her quite well. We’d often meet on Saturday afternoons for tea, a whole group of us spinsters and widows. She knew her verses well and she hardly had a bad word to say about anyone.”

  “Well, if we know the motive, I’m sure we’ll be that much closer to the killer,” said Florence.

  Maier nodded.

  “How was she murdered? Was it bloody and horrible? Must have been awful, I’m sure.”

  Maier looked at them eagerly.

  “I’m afraid we aren’t at liberty to divulge that sort of information at the moment. You do understand,” said Frances.

  Maier nodded.

  “Terrible. Just terrible. I should hope she didn’t suffer much.”

  Maier looked at the two of them again, hoping to glean just a trickle of information, but the two of them were shut tight.

  “We all hope for that at the end, don’t we?” said Frances.

  Maier nodded.

  “I need blood pressure pills. That’s what happens when you get older, the old ticker starts to give up. But Dr. Langdon assures me that with these new pills I should feel twenty years younger.”

  Frances nodded and smiled.

  “Not Matilda, though. No, she didn’t need any pills whatsoever. The only thing I heard her say she’d taken was an aspirin for her headache once. She was healthy, so you can imagine what sort of a shock this is to the whole community.”

  Florence started to pray that Dr. Langdon would be out shortly. Maier had a propensity not only for gossip but also for a love of hearing herself speak, which Frances was now enjoying.

  “Dr. Langdon’s a wonderful man. Surely you don’t think he had anything to do with it.”

  Maier looked at them both. Frances shook her head slowly.

  “I’ve known him a long time, must be about thirty years now. That’s how long he’s been serving this community. A good Anglican lad too. Usually at church. Not every Sunday of course, sometimes he’s needed to attend the sick, but he participates in most of the church events. Him and his wife, Edith. She’s a saintly woman. You wouldn’t find another one like her. She’s raised both girls into extraordinary women.”

  Frances feigned interest. Florence kept sneaking a look at the door.

  “Rebecca’s the oldest. You haven’t met her yet, but she’s a nurse here. She helps with her father’s practice. So does Victoria. But you knew that already. You’ve seen her, haven’t you? Pretty girl. They both are. Take after their parents, I’m sure. You wouldn’t believe Dr. Langdon’s in his late fifties. Looks a decade younger. Handsome man too. Same for Edith, though she’s in her late forties. Not handsome though, no, she’s very attractive. A very good looking family. And we’re happy to have them as members of our faith. Everyone loves them. If there’s anyone I trust with my health it’s him.”

  “That’s wonderful,” said Frances, “you are indeed fortunate. A good doctor is worth his weight in gold.”

  Maier nodded.

  “And then there’s the arthritis too. Started in my hips at first. But now it seems to be spreading. That’s why I walk with this cane.”

  She picked up a cane that had been leaning next to her on the opposite side to where Frances was. She shook it at them.

  “It’s very sturdy and it helps quite a lot. You’d be surprised how helpful just a small cane can be. Doesn’t look like much but it does help. Believe me.”

  Frances smiled and nodded.

  “The arthritis though, it seems to get worse when the weather gets damp. Not sure if you’ve noticed that?”

  Frances was about to say she hadn’t but she was cut off.

  “Dr. Langdon says that’s to be expected. He says that even small changes in the air pressure can affect the joints. They’ve got fluid in them you know and this fluid can sense the pressure. Isn’t the body marvelous…”

  The door to the hallway opened and Victoria came out first followed by her father. He was a slim man of average height with jet black wavy hair and eyes the color of blue topaz. He was not as pale as his youngest daughter but he likely preferred shade to sun. He smiled broadly and opened up his arms towards Florence.

  “My dear Flo,” he said, coming over and giving her a hug.

  “How are you? It’s been a while.”

  He smiled at her. Victoria was now standing at his right and another attractive young woman with similar black hair in a bun but without glasses and a darker complexion stood to his left. She was in a nurse’s uniform.

  “Cavan,” said Florence. “I am well. I’d like to introduce you to my good friend Frances Mar
malade.”

  Cavan took Frances’ hand and kissed the back of it. He gave her his full attention.

  “Enchanté,” he said. He looked quickly over at Florence. “You humbly introduce your friend, the very great Lady Marmalade, the detective extraordinaire.”

  He smiled at both of them.

  “Frances will do, Dr. Langdon, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind at all so long as you call me Cavan. My daughter Victoria whom you’ve met has told me all about the great privilege we have with you here to help us with this dreadful event.”

  “We’d like a moment of your time if you don’t mind, Cavan, just to ask a few questions,” said Florence.

  “Yes, of course,” he said. “Though I’m not sure I’ll be of much help.”

  He turned towards Kiki Maier.

  “You won’t mind giving me a few moments with Florence and Frances to help them with your friend’s murder, would you?”

  “Oh no, not at all,” said Maier. “This reminds me of the time when I was waiting for the train in London. This must have been oh, about fifteen years ago now…”

  “You’re very kind, Kiki. Thank you,” said Cavan. “Please come this way.”

  He led them through the hallway and down to the very end where his office was. They passed two examination rooms on the left as they went. His office was a modest size and contained a bookshelf, his desk with a large comfortable chair behind it. He gestured to the two chairs in front of the desk and Florence sat down in the furthest one from the door. Frances noticed a large photograph of the whole family on his desk. It must have been a few years old. His daughters were women in the photograph but they looked quite a bit younger.

  On the wall behind them was a picture of Hippocrates. It was a black and white painting of a frontal portrait of the man with his bald top of the head and his full beard. Rebecca stood to the right of her father as he sat down in his chair.

  “You’ve met my daughters,” said Langdon, looking at Florence, “but this is my eldest, Rebecca. She’s a nurse and has decided to help her father out in his practice, for which I am very grateful.”

  He looked up at her and smiled broadly.

  “You don’t mind if she listens in? She knows everything about my practice, and I’d like to include her if it’s all the same to you.”

  Florence looked over at Frances.

  “Not at all,” said Frances. She reached out and shook the young woman’s hand. “I’m delighted to meet you, Florence has said many good things. I only wish it was under better circumstances.”

  “Thank you, Frances, it is a real honor to meet a Lady.”

  Frances smiled and sat down.

  “So you’re here about Matilda Walmsley’s death,” said Langdon. “A terrible tragedy. At first everyone thought it was natural causes, but then rumor had it that she might have been poisoned.”

  “Yes, Cavan, she was poisoned. And this is what brings us here. She was poisoned with belladonna.”

  “Good Lord, you don’t say.”

  Frances nodded her head.

  “I’m afraid that’s been determined now. It appears it was added to her mint tea. She liked it quite sweet from what I gather and that might have masked the taste.”

  Langdon nodded.

  “Poor woman, that wouldn’t have been a pleasant experience. How can I help you?”

  “We understand that you use belladonna here at your practice,” said Frances.

  “Yes, that’s right. I cultivate it in my garden, though it grows wild around these parts but I prefer to be a little more rigorous in my use of the plant due to its unintended consequences as you mention with accidental overdose.”

  Frances nodded.

  “Now I might add that I wasn’t Matilda’s personal physician. She used Dr. Michael Cooney. A good physician and from all accounts a good Catholic. Some people feel more comfortable using a doctor of the same faith.”

  “Though not I,” said Florence.

  Langdon smiled at her.

  “No, not Florence or a few of my other patients. The Teels for example. I treat the whole family though there’s not much to treat, they’re all healthy as horses.”

  “What is belladonna used for?” asked Frances.

  “Quite a wide variety of things actually. Though I primarily use it for upset stomachs and indigestion related issues that don’t seem to have a determined cause. It’s also helpful for men who have excessive nighttime urination.”

  “I see.”

  “Yes, but I’m very careful with my dosage. I make all my tinctures myself.”

  “We’ve heard that Harmonie Teel helped you last summer. Is that right?”

  Langdon nodded.

  “Yes, yes, that’s right. Lovely young woman. She was interested in taking nursing but wanted to see what it was all about. So we had her in here to help out, didn’t we, Beckie?”

  Langdon looked up at his daughter. She looked at him and nodded.

  “We did, Daddy.”

  “And how was she?” asked Frances, looking at Rebecca.

  “She’s a lovely woman as Daddy says, but I’m not sure she’s cut out for nursing.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, she’s sometimes a little abrupt with patients when you need to be understanding and sympathetic. And she’s a little careless when it comes to attention to detail.”

  “You mean that mix up with the sleeping pills?” asked Langdon, looking at his daughter.

  “Yes, Daddy, that’s exactly what I mean. She gave the women a stronger dose than you had allowed for and she nearly died.”

  “Did she?” asked Frances.

  Rebecca nodded. Langdon shook his head a little.

  “My Beckie is very much interested in the welfare of our patients. Almost to a fault really. She’ll sometimes bring her feelings home with her and that can be difficult. We see a lot of pain and disappointment and sadness here. The problem with the mixup with the sleeping pills was that Harmonie gave her a dosage of one and a half times stronger than I had called for. As Beckie quite rightly pointed out, Harmonie was sometimes a little careless. Nevertheless, no long term harm was caused.”

  “You were able to catch the mistake before it went out?” asked Florence.

  Langdon shook his head.

  “No, we didn’t. Our patient, Mrs. Williamson, lovely woman, took them as the dosage was indicated. Never slept better she told me.”

  “But she could have died, Daddy,” exclaimed Rebecca.

  “Yes, she could have, my dear. But she could have died by taking the whole bottle of pills just as I prescribed them.”

  “What would the lethal dose difference have been?” asked Frances.

  “Well, I believe in that instance we gave her a bottle of thirty pills. A month’s worth. If she’d taken fifteen she might have gone into cardiac arrest whereas it would have likely been closer to twenty with the proper dose. As you can see, the difference is not large. In order to have died from an overdose she must have meant it. Even with Harmonie’s mistake, it wouldn’t have caused an accidental overdose.”

  Frances nodded. Beckie didn’t say anything.

  “Did you let her go after that, Cavan?” asked Florence.

  He shook his head.

  “No, I didn’t. That was her only error, and she was only here for three months or so. After the summer was up she left. She realized that perhaps nursing wasn’t going to be her calling. Not like it called for Beckie. I’ve never met such an exceptional nurse in all my years of practice.”

  “And overall, how would you speak to Harmonie’s time with you?” asked Frances.

  “She was enjoyable to have around. I think the reason she was perhaps a little abrupt with patients was only due to her seriousness and stress at the new situation.”

  Rebecca didn’t say anything. Frances looked at her for input. She looked at Frances and then she looked down again.

  “She’s a wonderful woman, and I’d cal
l her a friend. But as Daddy says, she’s not really cut out to be a nurse.”

  “Do you think she’s capable of hurting someone on purpose?” asked Frances.

  “Aren’t we all?” asked Rebecca. “I mean, aren’t each of us able to speak a sharp word now and then. Harmonie could. She had a sharp tongue and a wit to go with it.”

  “Do you think she might have been capable of hurting someone physically? Even killing them. I think that’s what Frances means,” said Florence.

  “No, I don’t think she’d be capable of anything like that. She’s quite friendly usually, unless of course she gets stressed or feels overwhelmed when she can lash out, though she doesn’t mean much about it, and it’s not like she’s got a really bad temper either.”

  Frances nodded.

  “Do you keep track of how much belladonna you have on hand?” asked Frances.

  “When I mix them into tinctures I do. Harmonie would help me with that. And Beckie of course. But if you’re asking about the plants in the garden, well, that’s sort of hard to track, and I don’t. However, there’s plenty of belladonna around in these parts, as you might know, Florence.”

  Florence was aware, only after having Toft mention it earlier. She might be a green thumb, but that only stretched as far as the non-poisonous varieties.

  “As for your tinctures, did any of those go missing?”

  “No, we do a daily check as well as a monthly count. Of course Beckie or I will do a count when any of the staff leaves or anyone who might have access to the medications leaves.”

  “And who might have access?”

  “Occasionally Dr. Toft or Dr. Cooney might require something they don’t have on hand and they’ll send a courier. Not often mind you. But going back to your previous question, nothing was missing when Harmonie left. And that was almost a year ago, I can’t see someone planning a murder that far in advance. Can you?”

  Frances didn’t say anything.

  “And she knew how to make tinctures. It’s not particularly hard but the weighing of the dry ingredients is important. I imagine she was poisoned by tincture then was she?”

  “No, she wasn’t actually, Cavan, it was chopped up leaves mixed in with the mint leaves.”