Prelude to Poison

by Morgan W. Silver

  I encountered nobody on my way to my room. My hands were shaking, and I fumbled with the key. After seeing that my room was void of any murderers, I closed and locked the door behind me. Everything seemed the same, but just in case, I checked under the bed and in the bathroom. I took a shower, and the thought of spy holes made me get changed in the bathroom. Then I dried the bath, checked that the bathroom was still locked and lied down in the tub. The idea that someone could spy on me just made me too uneasy. If he did happen to look and not see me in my room, then so be it. He was probably already suspicious of me. I just hoped it wasn’t enough to make him do something rash.

  I MANAGED TO WAKE UP without having been murdered, which was a relief. My back was sore from sleeping in the tub, and in total I must have slept three hours, tops. Detectives had to make sacrifices for the good of the case, and I was just too thrilled that I had discovered actual useful information. It was funny how conveniently I forgot about the terrifying bathroom incident in Mr Field’s office. But I suppose that if I dwelt on it too long, I would lock myself up in my own flat for the rest of time. Or at the very least until the sun wiped out all life. At least I’d be safe from Mr Field then. If he was the killer.

  It seemed like a good theory, except for one thing. If Victor had been blackmailed by Mr Field and he wanted help, why meet up in the hotel? Unless Mr Field did it anonymously, which was definitely possible. I still had some thinking to do.

  Mr Field was at the reception desk that morning as I made my way down. I decided to have breakfast at home and didn’t want to stay a second longer.

  “I’d like to check out, please,” I said in my most chipper voice.

  “Did you enjoy your stay?” he asked, fixing me with a stare.

  “I did. It’s a lovely place.” I handed him the key and managed a smile.

  “How did you sleep?” He moved to the computer and typed on the keyboard.

  “The bed was very soft. Was that all?”

  “In a rush to leave?” he looked up and smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Yes, I’ve got lots of inspiration and can’t wait to start writing.” I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. How much did he know? Or suspect? Was he really the killer? Or was there something else going on here?

  “That was all. Have a lovely day.”

  “And you.” It took me great effort not to run out of there, but I picked up the pace once I was outside. It was seven in the morning and most people were on their way to work. I made it to the flat, had a hearty breakfast and then fell asleep on the sofa for a few hours. When I woke up, I changed into a new outfit, and after checking the hotel website, found Mrs Field’s number. I had prepared a whole speech that would make her okay with me coming to visit, but she had immediately given me the green light when I told her it was about Victor Woodsbury. I left a note on the counter in my book shop so that Eddie would know where I was, just in case.

  The sun was occasionally hidden by clouds, but it was still warm. I had taken off my blue cardigan and put it in my bag. From what Mrs Field told me, I needed to find the street behind the post office and then take a left turn, followed by a right turn. It would be the third house on my right.

  This village was just as picturesque as our own. The streets were cobbled, and there were a few decorated lamp posts. Every front garden was decorated with colourful flowers. They were big on gardening and held regular events related to it.

  The house I was looking for was a semi-detached cottage. It had rose bushes in the garden along with sunflowers by the bay window. The white gate was already open, welcoming me to walk the paved path to the green front door. After I’d raised my hand to knock, the door flew open.

  Mrs Field stood in the doorway. I still remembered her from the pub and the morning Nancy and I found Victor, though she looked more dishevelled now. She was wearing a green skirt and a white top, colours that didn’t match her complexion. Her light-brown hair was peaky and had lost its shine. The woman at the pub had been beautiful, whereas this woman looked broken. She kind of reminded me of my mother, and I didn’t like the way that made me feel. She also wore a heart-shaped necklace. The same one that Victor had the last time I saw him alive.

  Chapter 13

  We stared at each other for a moment.

  “Mrs Field,” I said as a way of greeting her.

  “Barbara, please.” She stepped aside to let me in.

  The hallway was cluttered with women’s shoes and Wellingtons. The coat rack wasn’t even visible anymore, and even though there was a bin for the umbrellas, some were scattered across the carpet. I glanced at the narrow staircase that had a laundry basket and stacks of old newspapers on the steps.

  “The kitchen is through there.” She pointed ahead, past the stairs.

  “Thank you.” I made my way to the open kitchen door and peered inside. It was a typical country kitchen with wooden counter tops and red and yellow tiles. There was a dog’s basket by the wall and a kitchen table with a fruit bowl and filled tea cups.

  “Go ahead,” Mrs Field said as she stood behind me.

  I walked over to the table and observed the cabinet filled with crockery while I switched on the recorder on my phone.

  “I was just having tea, I made you some too.” She sat down at the table and took a sip.

  Considering the fact that Victor was poisoned, I couldn’t bring myself to sip the tea.

  “Just pretend,” Detective Black said.

  I put the cup to my lips and pretended to sip. The hot liquid touched my lips, and I wiped it off with my index finger.

  “Is it good?” she asked.

  “Lovely.” I smiled.

  “So you’ve come to discuss Victor Woodsbury.” She sighed dramatically. “The thing is—”

  “You were having an affair with him.”

  Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”

  “It’s kind of my job to know,” I said with a little bit of smugness. This clue gathering was getting to my head, but I figured this was the only time I could solve a real-life murder.

  She looked at her hands. “Well, yes, you’re right. I was his mistress,” she said with a hint of pride. “We were very much in love, though. He was going to leave his wife, and I was going to leave my husband. We met up once a week, sometimes once every two weeks. It was bliss.”

  Victor sure was keeping himself busy. “Did his wife know?”

  She wrinkled her nose as if she smelt something foul. “Patricia? No, I don’t think so. She was a stuck-up cow, and there was nothing left between them. It wouldn’t surprise me if she killed him, you know.”

  “Why do you say that?” I perked up.

  “Because he always said that she’d kill him if she found out about us. He said that’s why he wanted to divorce her first. She and her friends all had marriage troubles, but Patricia liked to pretend everything was fine. Appearances mattered to her.”

  That I could believe. “Did you notice anything unusual that morning? Did you bring the cup of tea up?”

  “I did. He requested it especially so that he could see me.” She blushed. “But he didn’t feel well and I left quickly. He wanted to take a bath first.”

  “Do you know why? Why didn’t he just shower at home?”

  She shrugged. “He said he didn’t feel well. I think he had been sick.”

  “He said that? Did you tell the police that?”

  “It smelt a bit funny in there. And no, they didn’t ask. Why? Does it matter?”

  Of course it mattered. “It means he might have been poisoned already. Before he drank the tea.”

  She gasped. “Oh, my. I didn’t think of that. I saw the police bag the tea cup.”

  “Yes, to check if there was poison in there. They wouldn’t know just by looking at him how it was administered, or when. They need evidence to make sure. They also need to analyse it so they know what kind of poison it is. There are many different types of poison.”

  She eyed me warily.
“Oh. Well, I wouldn’t know about that.”

  “Luckily I do.”

  She shifted her weight.

  “Did your husband know about the affair?”

  She stared into her cup. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. He’s been so distant. Ever since our daughter got admitted to Creedmoor. Do you know it? It’s a mental institution.”

  “Yes, I know it,” I said, unable to make eye contact as uncomfortable feelings rose to the surface. How long had Mum been there now? A year?

  “All I know is that he’s been so terribly obsessed with this hotel. If he was as interested in me as he was in the bloody place, we’d be fine.” She shook her head. “Men.”

  Detective Black scoffed. “She’s no peach either.”

  “Do you think that if your husband knew, that he would have killed Victor?” I asked.

  She looked up at me. “I really don’t know,” she said and burst into tears.

  After I handed her a few tissues from my handbag, she calmed down. “Please find out who killed him. Victor was the love of my life.”

  “She sure as hell wasn’t his,” Detective Black said.

  “I’ll do my best to find the killer.” I got up. “I just hope it’s not your husband.”

  Barbara clasped my hand with both of hers. “If he’s guilty, then I want him punished. If he’s not guilty, I will still never go back to that place. Or him.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

  I nodded. “Okay.” My brain searched for reassuring words, but they seemed to be in hiding.

  “I heard you’ve solved mysteries before. Please, just find out who did this. Not knowing is just awful.”

  “Thanks for seeing me. I’ll let myself out.”

  I was in the narrow hallway when I heard her shout: “You haven’t finished your tea.” The thought of drinking that tea made me scrunch up my face, and I ran the last few feet to the door.

  As I reached the end of the street, I passed a woman with a small, white dog. She had a resemblance to Barbara. It had to be her sister. I wondered what Barbara would do now. Live with her sister for the rest of her life? Barbara didn’t have a job, they probably put a lot of money in that hotel, and now...That’s why I was glad I had always followed my dreams and not a man.

  BEFORE HEADING BACK to my bookshop, I stopped by Beth’s cottage and shot a longing glance at the cottage where Alistair lived. He was no doubt at work now, but I couldn’t help but daydream about what it would be like to live there with him and make him his morning tea. Humming a random tune, I picked up the key from under the flower pot by Beth’s door and entered.

  She was in the reception area and beamed when she spotted me. “Hi, Maggie. So lovely to see you.” She had a book on her lap and a steaming cup of tea on the table next to her. Her eyes were also a lot sharper than usual. That was good.

  “Hi, Beth. You look lovely.” I headed over and kissed her cheek.

  “I’ll make you some tea,” she said as she leaned forward.

  “No, don’t bother.” I gently pushed her back. “I’ll make it myself. You just relax.”

  The water in the kettle was still hot, and I used the teabag mix with chai and vanilla. I couldn’t help but think about Victor as I poured the tea and still felt sorry for him, but I was also angry. Angry that he had played both Mrs Field and Susan, perhaps even more women. I was even angry for Patricia, even though I still didn’t like her. Victor had blinded me by being nice, and it had been foolish to not see him for what he was. If I had listened to my aunt earlier, I could have perhaps said something to him, make him see he was hurting people. Perhaps he’d be alive if I had.

  Then again, it wasn’t my responsibility even if I did feel like it was.

  I joined Beth in the reception area. “I suppose you’ve heard of Victor, haven’t you?” I asked. I wasn’t sure how much she remembered from the moments she was foggy in her head. I also wasn’t sure how good her memory was when she was more like herself.

  “Terrible, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “It is. Do you remember when I stopped by a couple of days ago, and you were saying something about poison?”

  She raised her eyebrows, and her glasses slipped forward. “I did? Oh, heavens. No, I don’t remember that.”

  “Perhaps I heard you wrong, then,” I said as not to alarm her any further.

  “Did you hear that Molly Pearbottom made a nude calendar of herself for her husband? Only she’d made a mistake and instead having the printed calendar delivered to her home, it ended up at the vicarage.”

  My eyes widened. “What? Did Harold open it?”

  “No, Eleanor. There was a sexy note with it as well. It nearly gave Eleanor a heart attack, except after the initial shock, she realised it had to be a mistake.”

  “What a mistake,” I said, imagining myself in Eleanor’s shoes. “Did Dawn tell you this?”

  “She did. She always has the best gossip. I suppose being a post woman, you do see a few things.”

  I started telling her about Pandora and the night Alistair walked me home, but soon her eyes glossed over, and I could tell I’d lost her.

  “Maggie,” she said after I had grown silent. “When did you get here?”

  “Just now,” I said and squeezed her hand.

  She eyed the cup of tea I was holding. “Be careful with that,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “How are things with your husband?”

  I smiled. “Fine.” When she had these moments, it was best to go with it.

  “It’s not his fault, you know? Men are like that sometimes. There’s no need for revenge.”

  My skin tingled. “Why? Did you hear Patricia say something when she visited?”

  “Patricia? Oh, how is she doing?” she asked, a tender smile on her face. Just like that, her previous thoughts had vacated her mind.

  After that it was difficult to strike up any kind of conversation. The topics were scattered and half of the time she made no sense, so instead I told her to read and then left after handing her a fresh cup of tea and some biscuits. I was sure that she was rereading the same page over and over again, but at least she couldn’t hurt herself. Eleanor checked on her most nights, practically tucking her in, but I still felt uneasy each time I left Beth. Perhaps it was because she was so fragile, and it reminded me of those days with Mum.

  I strolled back to the bookshop, thinking about Patricia and her gang of girlfriends, when the police car in front of the bookshop drew my attention. There was shouting and Nancy was being wrestled into the back of the car. Alistair’s VW Beetle was parked behind the police car, and he was there as well. A small crowd had gathered and across the street Stanley and Olivia had come out of their bakery.

  I ran and pushed myself through the crowd and went straight up to the constable who was easily a head taller than me. “Excuse me, sir. What do you think you’re doing to my aunt?”

  “Let me,” Alistair said to the police officer, who nodded and was about to get into his car.

  “No, no. You’re not going anywhere. Why the hell did you put my aunt in your car, and where are you taking her?”

  “To the police station, miss, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t raise your voice,” the man said. I didn’t recognise him, and I wasn’t sure if he was from Castlefield. What I did know was that I had the desire to smack him in the face with a cactus.

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t hurl my aunt into the back of a police , but here we are,” I said, shouting even louder.

  “Maggie,” Eddie said, and he touched my arm. I wasn’t sure where had come from, but why was I the only one helping my aunt?

  “Let her go,” I said, and I moved around the police officer to get to the back door.

  “Don’t make me arrest you too,” the officer said as I reached for the handle.

  I glanced back at Nancy through the window. “Don’t worry, love, I can take them all,” she said in a muffled voice. “Go back inside and take care of Bailey.”<
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  “Why did you arrest her?” I asked.

  “Because she hit me with a broom,” the man now shouted, his face red. “She hit me in the head and on my bum.”

  People in the crowd behind him chuckled, and he turned around to glare at them.

  “Constable Higgins, I’ll handle this. Please go ahead to the police station.” Alistair stepped forward and gently grabbed my arm, directing me to his car. I glanced back at Eddie who had a frown etched on his face.

  “We were going to bring in your aunt for questioning, that is all, but then she started yelling and throwing things. DC Daniels called for backup without my knowledge since I was trying to calm your aunt down. When the police showed up, she started assaulting Higgins and he arrested her. There was very little I could do. We just have to wait for him to calm down and forgive her. The worst-case scenario is that he’ll let her sleep it off a night in one of the cells.”

  “What? How could you let him do that?” I glanced back at the police car, which now took off as the people who were watching on started chatting excitedly before turning their attention over to us.

  “Come on,” he said. “Hop in. I’ll fill you in on the way to the police station.”

  I shouted at Eddie to take care of Bailey and got in. Normally I’d be excited to sit in Alistair’s car, but right now I was fuming. “Why do you need to question her?” I asked.

  Alistair sighed. “We’ve completed the autopsy on Victor Woodsbury, and we found out he was poisoned with Amanita mushrooms. Your aunt sells them in her shop, which means that she has direct access to them. She also found the body and Victor invited her to his hotel room.”

  “And me. Besides, what motive do you think she has? They dated in secondary school, but that was ages ago. She’s had nothing to do with him ever since then. Why would she want to kill him? And why put me through discovering his body?”