by Ali Carter
‘Madam? May I help you?’ called out the receptionist as I breezed past her on my way to the lift.
‘Sorry,’ I turned back, ‘would it be possible to visit Detective Chief Inspector Reynolds?’
Mandy, as her badge told me, picked up her telephone, dialled an extension and took an inordinate amount of time to get back to me with the news that, ‘Detective Chief Inspector Reynolds has a day off.’
‘He’s not here?’
‘No. I’m afraid he’s not,’ she said far too kindly considering my disgruntled question. ‘Is it urgent? I can pass you on to his number two if you’d like?’
‘No, it’s okay. Thank you though.’ Sergeant Ayari wouldn’t do. This time I had to go to the top.
I rushed back to my car but as I sat in the car park, staring at the whitewashed wall that had previously absorbed my thoughts of Mrs Dune, I couldn’t decide if I was on a wild goose chase or not. I longed for the wall to tell me the answer but it wasn’t giving anything back. The decision to pursue this was entirely down to me.
Brinng… brinng… I’d called DCI Reynolds on his mobile, brinng… bring… having decided if he didn’t answer I’d take it as a sign and give up. Bring… bring… bring… bring… Where was he? Brinng… brinng… brinng… Come on Reynolds, Brinng… brinng… brinng…
‘Hello?’
Phew. ‘Inspector, it’s Susie Mahl.’
‘Susie, to what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘I’m on my way home to Sussex but I wondered if we could have a chat before I leave?’
‘Of course, go ahead.’
‘Is there any chance we could do it in person?’
‘I’m not at the station today I’m afraid.’
‘Can we meet elsewhere?’
‘If you tell me what it’s about we can go from there.’
I begged, ‘Please can I just come and see you? It won’t take long. I’d rather not say it over the phone.’
I knew DCI Reynolds’s good manners and kind nature would make it impossible for him to brush me off.
‘I’m, I’m,’ he stuttered over his answer, let out a sigh and said, ‘I’m at home and you’re welcome to drop by, although we’ll be heading out for the day in an hour or so.’
He gave me his address. The name of the village rang a bell. Oh yes! I’d just come through it on my way to the station … ten minutes and I’d be on his doorstep.
DCI Reynolds’s tidy home was nestled in the middle of a row of identical houses. They were part of a new development on the edge of a very pretty village. Modest living but sympathetic architecture and not a single step in sight.
The bonnet of the car parked next to number thirty-nine was up and DCI Reynolds very nearly caught his forehead on its rim as he rose to my arrival.
‘Susie, that was quick. You’ve caught me at it, filling the washers. Won’t be long. Hang on a sec.’
His head together with the watering can disappeared back under the bonnet.
Only at this moment did I realise he was balding. DCI Reynolds was tall with plenty of hair and I would have never believed, before now, he had an empty patch on top. If my partner was balding I’d encourage him to shave it. I’ve always had a soft spot for men with a number one.
The filling up of the washers was taking longer than I predicted and my thoughts took off on a hairy tangent. I was remembering once overhearing a wife commenting on their gamekeeper, ‘I do wish he wouldn’t shave his hair darling, do you think you might have a word?’ This request prompted a discussion, ‘Yes, I will my dear, it’d be simply dreadful if our Tommy did the same. So frightfully common.’
Their conversation went on, ‘His new school friend Stuart is awfully hairy. A result of cross-class breeding I’m sure,’ and on… ‘Yes,’ said her husband, ‘thank heavens you and I are only hairy on top.’ ‘My darling if you’d married a German you’d have had to make allowances for underarm growth.’
This exchange of contrary idioms enlightened me on aristocrats’ obsessesion with hair and left me confused as to how a natural phenomenon could become such a stigma.
You only need visit Hoxton to see for yourself the celebration of hair in this day and age. However, with country folk out on a limb, squirrelled away in their gentrified pile, getting with the times takes a bit longer and I should think it will be several years yet until we come across a trimmed moustache hanging off a stiff upper lip.
‘Now do come in Susie,’ said DCI Reynolds at last. ‘If you wouldn’t mind getting the door, my hands are dirty.’
I opened it to a well-turned-out woman who was standing on the other side, holding a damp cloth in her hands.
‘Thank you, pet. This is Susie Mahl.’
‘Hello,’ I said bending down to take off my sandals having already seen her slippers.
‘Come through to the lounge Susie. Would you like a drink?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind sitting on the settee, I’ve done something to my back so forgive me for taking the armchair.’
‘I’m sorry I called you on your day off and I don’t want to waste your time but there’s something I really want to tell you.’
‘Go on then.’
‘I have a friend who’s a doctor.’ Oh damn, I knew I shouldn’t be bringing Toby in to this but I’d begun now. ‘And when he said he’d never heard of kidney stones excreting enough calcium oxalate to kill someone I was surprised.’
DCI Reynolds didn’t know that I knew Hailey had one healthy kidney but that didn’t matter for now.
‘Yes, I was surprised too.’ He smiled and his charming face made me realise it was going to be very difficult to get this man to think sceptically.
‘I’ll be honest,’ I said. ‘All along I’ve thought Hailey was murdered. I can’t explain why, I just did.’
‘Female intuition, eh?’ DCI Reynolds was being funny but I didn’t let it put me down, I had his attention and he was sympathetic to me wanting to talk.
‘Without going over everything I’ll launch straight in with where I’m at.’
‘You do that Susie.’
‘I woke very early this morning and remembered no one had ever mentioned carrying out a search at the cricket pitch in connection with the death.’
‘We really should have covered all bases,’ DCI Reynolds’s eyes rolled and I was surprised he’d dismissed the point with such ease. Furthermore, I think he thought our chat was over when he said, ‘It is kind of you to have come out of your way to tell me this Susie.’
Maybe police budgetary constraints meant they couldn’t do everything but DCI Reynolds was in for a shock if he thought this was all I had to say.
‘The thing is,’ I looked straight at him, ‘I went to the cricket pavilion this morning and in the bins, I found a bottle of antifreeze. I think the cocktail Hailey drank before lunch must have been spiked with antifreeze.’
There it was, it was out.
‘Delia, Delia,’ he called out as he got up and went towards the open door.
Delia was a pretty woman in an even prettier paisley frock. Much younger than her husband but still very much in love.
‘Come in, I’d like you to hear this.’ She sat on the arm of a chair and, as DCI Reynolds made his way slowly back to his, he began… ‘Of an evening Delia and I enjoy sitting down and watching a good whodunit. Don’t we D?’ He smiled at his wife who smiled at me.
‘Yes,’ she replied.
‘Only last night Susie, we were gripped by, what was it this time?’ he looked to his wife.
‘A Brush with Death,’ said Delia.
‘Yes, yes, particularly good series that. I’d highly recommend it Susie. Last night the murderer killed his victim by lacing the blueberry cooles.’ He turned to Delia. ‘That’s what it was called wasn’t it D?’
She turned to me. ‘He means coulis.’
‘Lacing the coulis with antifreeze and it’s just your luck Susie that we didn’t believe it possible so Delia here
got straight on her iPad to check the facts and blow me down you can die from the smallest amount of common everyday antifreeze.’
‘In this bag,’ I got up to show DCI Reynolds, ‘is the bottle I found.’
‘You haven’t touched it, have you?’ He sounded alarmed.
‘No, I had gloves on.’
‘Of course, you did.’ He turned to his wife, ‘Susie makes a fine amateur detective.’
‘Yes,’ said Delia with excitement.
I sat down. ‘The bottle says it’s made specifically for Tiguans. The Geralds have a Tiguan.’
‘What’s a Tiguan?’
‘It’s a car,’ I said rushing into my full explanation, ‘Primrose Gerald made cocktails for everyone using blue curacao. The colour of this spirit could have easily disguised the antifreeze slipped into Hailey’s drink. I’m sure it must be the case as the timings tie up.’
DCI Reynolds’s elbows were clamped to the armrests of his chair, his torso braced, ‘Only Hailey’s as none of the others were poisoned. Go on Susie,’ he coaxed.
‘It was several hours after cricket that Hailey’s system packed up from what we all now know was an excess of calcium oxalate. Calcium oxalate is a by-product of ingested ethylene glycol, and antifreeze is often ninety-five per cent ethylene glycol.’
‘Gosh, what knowledge you have.’
Delia looked a little baffled.
‘If Hailey died from drinking antifreeze, it makes sense, doesn’t it?’
‘Well, there are several factors within this we have to prove right before any type of conclusion can be drawn, but no doubt about it that bottle in the bag you have there is reason for me to think we mustn’t be too hasty in writing off the case.’
I was bubbling over with excitement.
Reassuringly, DCI Reynolds told me his wife was involved behind the scenes in all his cases. ‘If I wasn’t able to let my grumbles out to someone Susie I’d go mad. Delia’s my confidante. Now, just this once, do you have a theory of why you think Mrs Gerald murdered Miss Dune?’
I swallowed the lump in my throat, which had reappeared on account of accusing someone I’d hardly even met. A vulnerable person at that.
‘Well, there are several threads, none of which I have concrete evidence for but all of which point to Primrose and I’d like to share.’
‘Understood,’ said DCI Reynolds.
‘When I arrived at Fontaburn on Saturday afternoon I picked up on Primrose’s jealousy of Hailey having been invited on a trip by Archie to Wujiang, a place in China he’s visited several times before with Primrose. It’s where Archie’s family have a porcelain factory. I know this having visited the family museum in Fontaburn village on Tuesday. Archie alluded to it when he confirmed at dinner that the topic of porcelain caused a rift between some of them on Friday night.’
‘You’re saying Mrs Gerald was jealous of Miss Dune?’
‘Yes, I think Primrose’s motivation for murder was jealousy. Archie is very fond of Primrose, he told me so, and I know from others at the weekend that they were romantically involved when they were younger. Considering this, it seemed strange to me their relationship hadn’t lasted, and to cut a long story short I’ve done a bit of background research into the two families and I think, although I probably shouldn’t be saying it, that Archie and Primrose share a father.’
‘You say they’re half siblings?’ interjected DCI Reynolds.
‘Yes, I think Archie’s father would have had to tell him this when he saw them getting a little too close.’
‘That poor man,’ said DCI Reynolds, although it was unclear if he meant the father or the son.
‘I reckon Archie ended the relationship and never gave Primrose the real reason why. And if Primrose wanted Archie for herself she would be forever jealous of any woman who looked like she might be about to woo him.’
‘My, Susie, this is quite a back story and one I wouldn’t want spread.’
‘If it was Mrs Gerald,’ said Delia, ‘And you can find a trace on the bottle, no one need know anything else.’
I agreed with them that it would be best not to make Lord Norland’s infidelity public if we could help it.
‘So much for a day off.’ DCI Reynolds pushed himself up by the arms of his chair. ‘I’m sorry D but we’ll have to go to the garden centre at the weekend.’
‘That’s okay, it’s of minor importance right now.’
‘Susie, I don’t know what to say. You could have just proved us all wrong. It may fall on my head that the case was concluded but I’d never let this get in the way of the truth. Murder is a very serious thing and when there’s any doubt in an investigation, no matter how late in the day, it’s always important we hear it out.’
The three of us were now standing in the porch.
‘You must go,’ said Delia, who had come alive with the recent news. ‘Right now!’
‘Yes,’ said DCI Reynolds. ‘And if it was up to me Susie, I’d take you with me but I’m afraid it’s not and I’d be breaking rules of confidentiality if I did.’
‘She could remain in the waiting room,’ said Delia coming down on my side.
‘That’s a point. Do if you’d like to.’
DCI Reynolds pecked his wife on the cheek and off we set, in convoy, to the police station.
‘If you’re happy sitting at reception Susie, I’ll come straight back down when there’s news.’
Mandy recognised me but said nothing as DCI Reynolds explained, ‘This young lady is going to wait here for a while. She’s with me so don’t worry.’
He went to the lift with the plastic bag in his hand and I sat down in one of the bucket chairs just inside the entrance door. I took John Updike’s collection of short stories out of my bag and let it take my mind off the wait.
Time dragged and I spent most of it hoping I’d been right. It’s not that I wanted to punish Primrose but if she was in the wrong I thought it was important to separate good from evil. There was no anger inside me, just remorse that poor Primrose had, if she’s guilty, truly suffered from her mother’s mistake.
If Mrs de Bynninge’s good looks hadn’t caught Archie’s father’s eye none of this would have ever come about. My revelation, if right, would ruin the Geralds’ future and I just hoped Stanley had it in him to forgive his wife. She’d need him more than ever in the years to come.
‘Madam,’ said Mandy, her forefinger beckoning me to her desk.
‘Yes?’
‘DCI Reynolds would like you to go to his office. The lifts are behind me, over there, it’s the fourth floor.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, relieved to hear it was at last time. I still wanted to get home at some point today.
‘Have a seat,’ said DCI Reynolds closing the glass door of his office.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
‘I can confirm,’ he said sitting down at his desk, ‘that we’ve found DNA evidence linking the antifreeze directly to Mrs Gerald.’ There was reserve in his voice and this made me worried I’d created the most abominable mess. I sat tight as he continued. ‘This does not mean for sure that Mrs Gerald is guilty of murder. We mustn’t go jumping the gun, pardon the pun. We still need to find evidence that Miss Dune did indeed die of antifreeze poisoning and, unfortunately, we do not have the method to determine this here. I’m led to believe it is a very sophisticated test.’
I gave a half smile.
‘Don’t panic Susie, as we speak Sergeant Ayari is accompanying Miss Dune’s body, which is being transported to a London hospital where they have the means to measure ethylene glycol levels in her blood.’
‘How long will that take?’
‘We’ll have an answer by…’ DCI Reynolds squinted at his watch and totted up the time. ‘Four thirty I’d say.’
‘This afternoon?’
‘Yes, this afternoon.’
‘Okay,’ I said wondering how I was going to contain myself until then. I was desperate to know the outcome and wished I could share my a
nxiety with someone. ‘Are you able to call and tell me the result when you hear?’
‘Of course I will,’ said DCI Reynolds with a smile. ‘Actually Susie,’ his face fell and I couldn’t think what was coming, ‘You said you were on your way back to Sussex, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Just to be on the safe side why don’t you ring me? I don’t want you answering my call while you’re driving.’ He was amused by his own authority.
‘Of course. Four thirty on the dot.’
DCI Reynolds was in a good mood, I could tell by the speed in which he shot up out of his chair. His poor back!
‘How did the forensics find evidence of Primrose’s DNA?’
‘Spot of luck,’ he said standing by the door. ‘One of Mrs Gerald’s fingernails must have chipped off when she was mixing her cocktails. The forensics found it in the solution.’
DCI Reynolds accompanied me to the lift.
‘You’ve been a pleasure to work with Susie, many thanks for your co-operation.’
‘I just hope I haven’t wasted your time, particularly as it’s your day off.’
‘Between you and me you’ve saved me yet another trip to the garden centre.’
DCI Reynolds grinned as the doors of the lift shut and I descended, wishing Toby and I hadn’t had our spat.
The journey to Sussex was long and hot and the congestion over the Queen Elizabeth II bridge left me in no doubt that it is the busiest estuarial crossing in the United Kingdom.
I had both front windows wound down instead of turning on the air conditioning, and by the time I’d crossed the final county border my bum was well and truly stuck to the second-hand leather seat.
Home had a feeling of desertion to it. The ants were at it again, nibbling away at the front doorframe, and the sitting-room floorboards creaked under the load I was carrying. At first whiff, I thought the whole place had taken on a new odour in my absence, but no, it was only stale hot air freed as soon as I opened the windows.
From the car into the studio I lugged my materials, sketchpads, tins of pencils, rubbers and charcoal. I took my canvas chair and easel through the house too, carrying it all at once to avoid making too many trips.
