‘Gloria has a massive greenhouse – well, more like a botanical garden really – seems she likes to grow plants that can kill. Is the Amorpho-thingy poisonous?’
‘No, but its nickname, because it has a putrid smell, is the corpse tree, and the translation of its name from Latin is “Titan” and, you won’t believe, “ARUM”.’
‘Bloody hell, the first name of her and Samuel’s son!’
‘I would say that Gloria knows exactly how to use atropine for medicinal purposes and as a poison,’ Blane said and deliberately paused for Anna to make the connection.
Anna’s cheeks were red as she gripped her fists. ‘Poison. Gloria Lynne knows exactly what can cure and what can kill!’
‘Hang on, sweetheart, because we need to be able to prove that,’ Blane said quietly, trying to calm her down.
‘We can,’ Anna replied, and then held her hands up in a submissive gesture as if to apologize for becoming so loud. She wasn’t arguing with him, she just needed his support and wanted him to see that there was more deceit and lies behind Gloria Lynne than anyone had realized.
Blane no longer felt tired and stood up, this new information making him feel almost as excited as Anna.
‘Tell me everything you can about Gloria,’ he demanded, pacing the room.
Anna sat with her legs curled up beneath her.
‘Well, I only met her once so I don’t know much beyond what I’ve already told you, and of course what Bill Roberts sent us.’
He gestured in a circle with his hand. ‘Tell me about the day you and Dewar went to her house, what she was like, what she did and said.’
‘She’s got a really overbearing presence about her, as if she looks down her nose at anyone she perceives to be below her status. She said she’s strict with her daughters, but personally I ’d say overprotective and she spoils them to get her own way. Oh, and vain – by the look of her she’s had some nip and tuck along the way,’ Anna added.
‘Everything you’ve mentioned so far is not unusual with many of the rich and powerful,’ Blane remarked, eager for more details. ‘What did she have to say about Josh?’
‘Not much really, said she only met him once and wished she’d had the opportunity to get to know him better.’
‘Okay, take this on board. What if she didn’t know Josh was her long-lost son Arum? What do you think? Did she know?’ Blane asked.
Anna racked her brain, weighing up if it could be true, but shrugged her shoulders. ‘All right, let me think it through. Let’s say that Samuel had never made contact with Gloria for something like thirty years, but the fact is he must have always known that Josh Reynolds was his son Arum, as would his sisters Esme and Marisha.’
‘Would Esme and Marisha have known about Gloria’s new life in the UK with Lord Lynne?’ Blane asked.
‘Gloria is so often in the papers, on TV and in glossy magazines that I’d say that they must have, but I don’t think Esme would ever have told Josh the truth about his real parents, or her illegal adoption of him. I think she went to her grave never knowing who Donna really was or she’d have done something to try and part them,’ Anna said.
‘What about the other sister, Marisha – could she have said something?’ Blane asked.
Anna told him that Marisha didn’t even know Josh was dead until she and Barolli broke it to her. He gave her a puzzled look, and Anna explained that Marisha had confessed she had not had contact with Esme or Josh for years, after a family disagreement.
‘Then it’s also possible that even now Gloria doesn’t know that Josh was really Arum,’ Blane pointed out.
‘She knows. I’m certain of that,’ Anna said with conviction as she got to her feet.
Blane began flicking through his notes. ‘The money from the safe, you said it was found hidden at Esme’s and forty thousand was found in Marisha’s freezer?’
‘That’s right,’ Anna said, pacing round the room.
‘And you believe that only Samuel did the decorating at both Josh and Esme’s?’
‘Yes, which means Marisha lied to me about him going back to Jamaica,’ Anna remarked.
‘It also means that when Samuel was decorating, Josh obviously had no idea he was his real father.’
Anna looked at him and sat beside him with her hands on her knees, waiting to hear what he was going to say next. She felt almost childlike compared to him as he had such authority and intuition and she knew he was slowly piecing together the most complicated jigsaw puzzle she had ever worked on.
‘Okay, Anna, here we go. I would say that Samuel is the common denominator. Because of the decorating he would have had keys for both Josh and Esme’s flats. Also, he stayed at his sister Marisha’s, who just happened to lie to you about his movements and hid money in the freezer.’
‘Oh, my God, do you think Samuel killed his own son?’ she gasped.
‘If he did, it could only be for the money, but even then he’d have to know the safe code, or somehow force Josh to open it so he could get the gun.’
She sighed, shaking her head. ‘But it doesn’t make sense, does it? I can’t see Marisha being involved in murder either, not knowingly.’ Once again it seemed to be one step forward, two steps back.
‘Wait a minute, think about all the birth and marriage certificates Samuel Peters ordered.’
‘What about them?
‘There all connected to Gloria, her bigamous marriages and Arum the son she abandoned. The certificates expose her as a liar and a fraud. There can be only one reason Samuel wanted them,’ Blane said.
Anna hesitated as she looked at him and in unison they both exclaimed, ‘BLACKMAIL!’ followed by a high five.
They were on a real high, as they realized that if Samuel, and possibly Marisha, were blackmailing Gloria they needed to dig deeper and find further evidence to prove it. It was clear from the request for a copy of Donna’s Jamaican birth certificate that Samuel had discovered that she was Gloria’s daughter.
Blane lay down on the floor, his elbows behind his head, and began to do some slow sit-ups, explaining that due to an old back injury, sitting in one position for too long caused the muscle to tighten up so he needed to stretch. But it didn’t prevent him from speculating that if Samuel was blackmailing Gloria he must have made contact with her either physically or by phone. Anna suggested that whilst decorating Josh’s flat Samuel could have seen something that linked Gloria to Donna, maybe even a photograph. Blane arched his back up from the floor to stretch it further, wondering if Samuel could maybe have got Gloria’s details from an address book at the flat.
At this idea, Anna immediately sent Joan an e-mail asking her to get a record of calls made from Marisha’s house and mobile phones from August 2012 through to the end of the year, and to see if Gloria’s house phone was called from Marisha’s.
Then the reaction set in; after the buoyant elation they now became subdued, having hit a wall with the lack of evidence to show blackmail had actually taken place. Anna reckoned that if they were right, Gloria would not have reported any threats to the police as she had too much to lose by way of her standing in the world of high society. They both agreed that she might have paid Samuel and hence the forty thousand in the freezer. However, that didn’t explain why the money from the safe ended up at Esme’s flat.
Anna downloaded the Word file of Barolli and Dewar’s interview with Marisha. Blane came over to sit beside her and she snuggled up to him as they read through the interview notes. Anna told him that at the time of the interview Barolli suspected Marisha had been drinking or taking drugs, and once Anna had finished the document she commented it was obvious Marisha was a liar and drunk, and was therefore not reliable.
‘Maybe, but Marisha must be involved in some way as she’s lied to you about Samuel. She knows something,’ Blane said, checking the wine bottle, which was empty.
‘Probably where Samuel is, as she hasn’t reported him missing. And the money in her freezer explains all the new electrical equipmen
t she had at her flat,’ Anna added, while opening the file containing the Charity Ball photographs in order to see if Gloria was missing from the pictures taken between ten p.m. and midnight.
Blane picked up their glasses and headed towards the kitchen area, pausing to wonder if there was something more than just alcohol that had caused Marisha’s behaviour during the interview. As he reached for a bottle of Pinot Noir from the wine rack, Anna asked him what he meant. As he found two clean glasses and filled them with red wine he reminded her of the case of the care worker in the old people’s home who was poisoning the residents with atropine.
‘The agent who compiled the report used a mnemonic to describe the symptoms of an atropine overdose: hot as a hare, blind as a bat, dry as a bone, red as a beet, and mad as a hatter,’ he said as he handed Anna her glass.
Sipping the new wine, Anna asked him what the connection was.
‘Everything Barolli has written about Marisha’s behaviour fits with atropine poisoning – dilated pupils, Marisha complained of being hot, but shivering and not sweating, difficulty focusing and thirsty. It can cause a red skin rash, difficult to see on a black person, but Barolli said she scratched her arm so much she drew blood. Also makes you dizzy and hallucinate, thus the reference to mad as a hatter.’
Anna took in what he had just said, gasped and jumped up.
‘It’s just an observation, I might be wrong,’ Blane said, taking a sip of wine.
‘Oh, my God, Barolli thought it was the chicken!’ Anna exclaimed.
‘Barolli thought what was a chicken?’ Blane asked, confused.
‘No, he was really ill after we’d been to see Marisha. He thought it was the chicken from a takeaway,’ Anna said. She paused and tapped the table, trying to remember how Barolli had described his symptoms, then looked up.
‘Barolli said his heart was palpitating, the room was spinning and everything was a psychedelic blur. Also, his temperature hit the roof but he wasn’t sweating.’
She took a long sip of her wine, and had to sit down as the realization of what had actually happened dawned on her.
‘My God, we were at Marisha’s flat. She made us a coffee and asked if we wanted some spiced rum in it. Barolli said yes and Marisha went to pour some in his cup. I made a comment about not drinking on duty, but as Marisha pulled the bottle away some rum went into Barolli’s coffee.’
Blane was surprised. ‘She was going to poison you both?’
‘I remember she said she didn’t drink and it was Samuel’s rum. I don’t think she realized there was poison in the bottle – she’d have to be totally mad to try and kill two police officers in her own home, let alone knowingly drink some herself the day she came into the police station.’
‘Can you remember if it was a full bottle?’ Blane asked.
‘Just over half full, I think – does it matter?’
‘The thing is, if the whole bottle was originally laced with atropine, then who drank the other half ?’ Blane queried, swirling his wine round in the glass.
‘Samuel? But surely he would have dropped down dead at the flat,’ Anna remarked.
He explained to Anna that atropine could be a bit like alcohol in how quickly it could affect you, depending on age, body weight, whether you’d eaten and so on. Therefore, it was possible that Samuel, like Marisha, had drunk some, left the house and it had gradually worked into his system and he could have dropped down dead in the street somewhere.
Anna was straight on the phone to Joan, asking her to inform the hospital that Marisha might be suffering from atropine poisoning. Joan said she’d get right on to it and Anna told her to call back when she’d spoken with the medical staff.
‘If Samuel dropped dead in the street, and it could have been a heart attack brought on by consuming atropine,’ Anna said, ‘then his death would be treated as non-suspicious and there wouldn’t have been a full forensic post mortem.’
‘No suspicion of poisoning, therefore no toxicology tests for it, and if he has no form of identity on him he would be listed as a John Doe.’
Anna’s mobile rang, it was Joan but before the constable could say a word, Anna launched into yet another list of requests.
‘Joan, thanks for calling back. I need you to check all the mortuaries in London and see if they have any unidentified bodies of black men matching Samuel Peters’ description.’
They could hear Joan’s sharp intake of breath. ‘Oh, my God, this is getting crazy. Do you think he’s been murdered as well?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘I really think you need to tell Mike Lewis, Anna. The hospital was asking questions and—’
Detecting the worry in Joan’s voice, Anna interjected: ‘I will contact him tomorrow morning.’
‘It’s just that I feel I’m being a bit underhand and subversive.’
Blane went over to his computer and began checking on the Internet.
‘You are doing a fantastic job and you know you are my most valued confidante,’ Anna assured Joan, trying to calm her. ‘If there’s anything you think I’m missing or need to know then call me.’
‘You leave it with me, Anna. I’ll find Samuel Peters for you, dead or alive.’
By now, Anna was starting to flag and asked Blane if she could have some coffee.
‘Good idea, we could both do with some,’ he agreed, leaving his computer. While he prepared the beans, Anna made another quick call to Pete Jenkins, who was enjoying his Sunday evening dinner at home.
‘What now?’ he asked, swallowing a piece of his Yorkshire pudding by the sound of it.
Anna could hear his wife in the background asking if it was ‘her again’. Anna apologized and said she’d be quick and Pete told her she’d better be.
‘There’s one other thing, and don’t worry, it’s not unethical or breaching human rights or anything like that.’
‘I’m listening,’ Pete said, and gave a big sigh.
‘Josh Reynolds’ blood sample – am I right in saying it was only ever tested for alcohol and common drugs of abuse?’
‘Yes, that’s the standard testing. Why?’
‘So any poisons or medicines would be missed?’
‘We only look for poisons if the evidence in the case suggests it. They’re expensive tests to run and—’
Anna interrupted him: ‘I think you may find atropine.’
She went on to hastily explain her reasoning and her theory that Marisha and Samuel might also have been poisoned with the same drug.
‘My team are still working at Marisha’s flat and I noticed a rum bottle on her coffee table in the living room. I’ll have it brought to the lab first thing tomorrow morning and do a test,’ Pete promised. ‘Far be it from me to flatter you but good job, Anna – that bottle might very well have been discarded if you hadn’t said anything.’
Blane handed Anna a cup of coffee.
‘Thanks, I need this. I was starting to get a bit slurred talking to Joan, I’m sure she was suspicious. I hope I didn’t sound two-faced flattering her but she does need coddling now and then, and it helps get results.’
He carried his own mug to the table, reminding her that she had wanted to look at the pictures of Gloria at the Charity Ball. She sipped her coffee, baffled at how the poisoned rum came to be at Marisha’s. True, Gloria could have given Samuel the bottle, but they both agreed that if he was blackmailing her he wouldn’t be stupid enough to accept it. The other possibility was that Gloria visited Marisha’s and secretly laced the bottle of rum with atropine.
Blane looked again at the notes Barolli made of Marisha’s interview. ‘Let’s just backtrack for a minute. We suspect that Samuel was blackmailing Gloria, and we suspect the money in the freezer was a pay-off. In the interview, Marisha said, “Samuel didn’t steal the money” and “the rich bitch” gave it to him. Gloria could have gone to Marisha’s flat to pay Samuel off; if she already had the poison with her she could have seen the rum and taken the opportunity . . .’
; Anna picked up on his reasoning. ‘She could have poured it into the bottle. Brilliant, and if we’re right, that’s why Marisha had no idea when she offered Barolli some and also drank it herself later on.’ She was elated; it was yet another major step in completing the jigsaw, and she was beyond impressed by Blane’s ability and observations.
He wandered back to stand in front of his computer, describing how while she was on the phone to Joan he had been mulling over her and Dewar’s visit to Gloria’s house and had done some research on the Internet, particularly about the Salviati and Mazzoni paintings, which Gloria had said were of the three Moirai.
‘Come and have a look at this.’ He brought the two pictures up side by side on the screen.
‘Gloria made reference to Greek mythology, saying they were the daughters of Zeus.’
‘Yes,’ a confused-looking Anna replied.
‘Bear with me on this, but psychologically it’s interesting that Gloria didn’t paint the whole picture.’
Anna nudged him with her elbow. ‘Come on then, Picasso, don’t keep me in suspense.’
‘I remembered something from my college days.’
‘Really, that far back?’ she grinned.
‘The Moirai are goddesses, also known as the three Fates, and they determine the destiny of man, controlling the thread of life from birth to death.’
He knew he had Anna’s full attention as he brought up another web page about the Moirai and read from it.
‘Clotho, whose name means Spinner, spun the thread of life, Lachesis, the apportioner, measured the thread of life, and Atropos, also known as AISA, cut the thread of life.’
Anna was intrigued as he returned to the Salviati painting that depicted the three women as ugly and old. ‘There’s Clotho at the back holding the spindle of thread, in front of her Lachesis stretching the thread between the fingers of each hand and beside her Aisa holding the shears to cut the thread. The ancient Greeks believed that no one, not even a god, could sway the Fates as they controlled the metaphorical thread of life of every mortal from birth to death, and it was impossible for anyone to control their own destiny.’
Wrongful Death Page 35
