by John Hall
“So four would certainly do the trick? Yes, I see.” Holmes frowned. “But what of the other centres in the poisoned box?”
Dr Oong shook his head. “Perfectly harmless.”
I put a hand to my head. “But do you seriously tell me that only eight of the twenty-four sweets contained poison?”
Dr Oong nodded. “So it would appear. I can speak definitely as to the four ‘Violet Cremes’, and I assume the ‘Walnut Whirls’ were similarly adulterated.”
I went on, “So if someone should eat the rest? They would be unharmed?”
“Perfectly unharmed,” said Dr Oong. “Eight sweets were deadly poisonous, the rest perfectly innocuous.” He took one of the sorry-looking shells from the box. “Would you care to try the remains of a ‘Caramel Cube’, Doctor Watson?”
“Not in a thousand years! But … you do see what this means, Holmes?”
Holmes nodded. “It means a very detailed knowledge of the tastes and preferences of the person for whom the sweets were intended.” He sighed. “And that, I’m afraid, means that things look very bad indeed for Mr Gerard.”
Chapter Four: The Testimony of Charles Gerard
Superintendent Ingham slapped Holmes on the back in a kindly fashion. “Did you really think you could find anything that might clear Mr Gerard, then?”
“Oh, I did not intend any sort of reflection upon your deductive powers,” said Holmes with a smile, as Superintendent Ingham thanked Dr Oong, and then led us back along the maze of corridors. “However, I am sure you will agree that there are puzzling aspects to the case?”
Superintendent Ingham paused at the door of his own room, stood aside to let us enter, and told us to sit down. Then he took out his pipe, examined it and lit it, and then he frowned. “Puzzling aspects, Mr Holmes? Such as?”
“Such as, why, if Mr Gerard wished to kill Mrs Gerard, after only a couple of months of marriage, as I understand it …”
Here the Superintendent nodded. “Mr Gerard confirmed that, showed me the certificate, all above board.” His lip curled ever so slightly. “He seemed … seemed, I say … to take it hard that Mrs Gerard should die after so short a time. Still, it wouldn’t be the first time that a man killed his wife after a very short time would it, Doctor?” he appealed to me.
“Wouldn’t, I’m afraid. Seen it myself often enough, and so has Holmes here.”
Ingham nodded, and said, “I’m sure we’ve all seen it, more’s the pity. But I’m interrupting you, Mr Holmes. Please go on.”
“Whether his grief is real or bogus, is it not very odd that he should kill his wife here, where her sister and brother-in-law would be sure to take notice, to make a fuss, to demand justice, rather than kill her in England? Unless there are other relatives back there?” And he looked at Ingham.
The Superintendent shook his head. “Now you mention it, I happen to know that Mrs Masterton had no family apart from her sister, because she himself told me as much. I know the two of them quite well,” he added parenthetically, “for Derek Masterton and I belong to the same club, drink at the same bar at the ‘Raffles’, and what have you. We’re a close-knit little community here in many ways, so that’s not so odd. H’mm! What is odd is just what you’ve said, Mr Holmes. Yes, why would he wait until he was here, where her sister was sure to make a fuss, instead of doing the job in London, where there was nobody much to miss her?”
“Or again,” said Holmes, “they had just disembarked from a lengthy sea voyage. Why did Gerard not simply wait until dark, take his wife on deck for a romantic stroll, and simply push her overboard?”
“Really, Holmes!” I said.
“It has been done before,” he pointed out.
“Perhaps he only just decided …” I began, then broke off. “No, that won’t do! Arsenic implies premeditation.”
Holmes nodded. “And it surely implies also that Mr Gerard … if he is indeed the murderer … had planned the murder as long ago as several weeks? He cannot have dared to rely upon finding a supply of arsenic here in Singapore, where he did not know his way around the place, and much less could he know the local rules and regulations.”
I nodded in my turn – I should perhaps digress here to remind you that back in 1905 the regulations concerning poisons were by no means as rigid as they later became. Anyone who looked respectable could obtain arsenic in England simply by signing the poison register at any pharmacy – and they would not be asked to provide any evidence that the name with which they had signed was their own. All very lax, and all very regrettable, I know, and a good many murders were committed as a result, until the thing became a national scandal and the rules were tightened up. But such was the state of affairs at the time of which I write. Still, as Holmes said, a stranger in a strange land would not be able to rely upon similar laxity on the part of the local authorities. If Charles Gerard had poisoned his wife with arsenic, it was logical to suppose that he had bought it in England, before ever he left. I shuddered at the thought. “Horrid, Holmes!”
Holmes waved this sentimental nonsense aside. “So, we are to suppose that Mr Gerard is a hardened and heartless plotter who intended to kill his wife almost from the very wedding day, who bought arsenic in London soon after his marriage, but who then entirely failed to use it until he had arrived at a place where its use would surely draw attention to him and would be certain to land him in prison? No, my dear Ingham, it makes no sense at all.”
The Superintendent frowned. “You make out a convincing enough case, Mr Holmes, I must admit. But then, if Mr Gerard did not poison his wife, who on earth did? It surely cannot have been her own sister? And nobody else knew her in Singapore, as far as we are aware.”
“But you are not sure?”
Superintendent Ingham shook his head. “The murder was only committed yesterday, sir. There has been no time to look into the matter fully.” He smiled at Holmes. “But it seems clear that we must make a start. I propose to begin by talking to Mr Gerard himself and getting his side of the story.”
“You said, I think, that you had not yet properly questioned him?” said Holmes.
“Not yet, no. He seemed much too upset. Or perhaps he genuinely was upset,” added Ingham thoughtfully. “In any event, I said that I must arrest him for the murder of his wife, and asked what he had to tell me. He denied killing Mrs Gerard, and then he more or less collapsed in tears. I had him locked up downstairs, and that’s where he has been ever since.”
“Tell me,” said Holmes, “did you, or he, mention the poisoned candies?”
Ingham shook his head. “I took them from the room, thinking it likely that they were the source of the poison, the cause of death. But I haven’t told Gerard the results of the analysis.” He smiled a grim smile again. “I reckoned that if he had poisoned them, he wouldn’t need me to tell him that they had poison in them. While if he had not, then …”
“It would be interesting, and perhaps instructive, to observe his reaction when he was told?” Holmes finished.
“Just so, Mr Holmes. Now, shall we have him up here?” and the Superintendent called out an order to one of his subordinates. As we waited for Gerard to brought up, Superintendent Ingham added, “I’ll let you start the … questions, Mr Holmes, if you like? But I must reserve the right to ask what I like at any time.”
“That is very kind,” said Holmes, “and very fair.”
A moment later, and a constable brought Mr Charles Gerard into the room. He was a tall young man, no more than twenty-three or twenty-four years of age, good looking enough in a weak sort of way. He looked as if he had not slept much the previous night, and his face bore signs of genuine grief, or I was very much mistaken. As Superintendent Ingham told him, civilly enough, to take a seat, I reflected sadly that the late Mrs Gerard could hardly have been much older than her husband, and I sighed to myself at the tragic waste of life, irrespective of who might, or might not, have killed her.
Superintendent Ingham was saying to Gerard, “This is Mr Sherlock
Holmes, who happens to be in Singapore, and who is interested in this matter.”
“Sherlock Holmes?” It was evident that Gerard was familiar with the name of the famous detective. “Why, I’ve read all the accounts of your cases, sir. I don’t suppose … no, you cannot be Doctor Watson, sir?” This last addressed to me.
“I am, sir, at your service.”
Gerard put a hand to his brow. “But … but this is amazing. Tell me, Mr Holmes, who has secured your services? My brother-in-law, perhaps?”
“Insofar as I have a client,” said Holmes, “it is Mr Tigran Sarkies, a friend of Mr and Mrs Masterton’s.”
“Oh, the manager at the Raffles Hotel? Yes, I see.” Gerard put his head in his hands, and sat like that for a moment, then he straightened up, and looked at Holmes. “I am sorry, Mr Holmes, but I have been much troubled. I am glad you are here, sir, for now we might be able to find the true murderer of my wife, Emily.” He nodded towards Ingham. “The Superintendent here seems to think that I did it, and I have not yet had the opportunity to put the alternative view to him.”
“Well, you have the chance now,” said Holmes. “Do you object if I put a few questions to you? I must tell you that you can refuse, for I have no official standing here, but Superintendent Ingham has kindly indicated that I may assist him in his attempts to get to the bottom of your wife’s murder.”
Gerard nodded. “Ask whatever you like, sir, and I shall answer. Anything to find the murderer of my dear wife.”
“I am pleased to hear you say as much,” said Holmes with a nod. “Let us begin with your marriage. When exactly did that take place?”
“Late September last year,” said Gerard with a groan. “Scarcely four months ago, sir. And now …”
“Yes, yes. And the wedding took place in London?” Gerard nodded miserably. “St Mark’s, Piccadilly.”
“Ah. “Small but fashionable”, I think is the phrase used by gossip column writers?”
“It was only a small wedding,” Gerard agreed. “A few friends, my wife’s and mine. Neither of us had any family in England, my late wife’s only living relatives being her sister, Anya, now Mrs Masterton, and Derek Masterton. As to its being fashionable … well, my wife, my late wife, that is, was quite wealthy in her own right.”
“Oh?”
“And I am not.” It was a statement of fact, and almost defiant. “I might just as well say it before you do.”
Holmes held up a hand. “Nobody is making accusations, sir. Tell me, did Mr and Mrs Masterton attend the wedding?”
“No.” Gerard seemed to hesitate. “I first met Miss Emily Cardell, as she then was, in the June of last year. We hit it off at once, and determined to marry soon afterwards. Had her sister and brother-in-law lived in England, of course, they would have been invited, but as it was, we decided that the simplest thing to do was to marry, and send them a letter saying that it was done.”
“I see. So you did not tell them in advance of the ceremony?”
“As I said, we decided at fairly short notice, and were married by special licence.”
Holmes asked, “And had you yourself ever met either Mr or Mrs Masterton before you arrived here?”
Gerard shook his head. “I knew about them only from what Emily told me. They had been married in England, I understand, but that was a year ago, or a little more. Before ever I met Emily.”
“H’mm. So, you were married, and then you decided to come here to Singapore, to seek your fortune?”
Gerard flushed. “Not immediately, no. I had no regular employment … I had tried my hand at one or two things without much success … and when we married I decided to buckle down in earnest and support Emily in the proper manner. I was not desirous of living on her money, you understand? But … well, frankly, things still worked out no better. As I say, Emily had her own money, inherited from her father, and she wanted to use the capital to start up some sort of business. But … well, I’m an independent sort of person, and I wasn’t having any of that. Finally, we compromised. I allowed Emily to use some of her money to pay our fare out here, and she would then ask her sister to put in a word for me and ask her husband to give me a job.”
Holmes held up a hand. “You say you allowed your wife to pay your fares here?”
Gerard nodded assent.
“Tell me, whose was the original suggestion that you should come here?”
Gerard frowned. “How d’you mean, Mr Holmes?”
“Well, did you suggest that you come here and ask for a job, or was it your wife who made the suggestion? Can you not remember?”
Gerard frowned, as if struggling to recall the details. “Yes, now you mention it, it was Emily who first broached the matter. As I recall, she said something like, ‘Why didn’t I try a new country, a new career, a whole new direction?’ I had no good reason why not, and let her persuade me. And let her pay the fares, although I had said at the outset that I didn’t want any of her money.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And that’s what happened. We came here with the intention that Emily would talk to Derek Masterton and persuade him to give me a job.”
“And did she do so?”
Gerard shrugged. “I believe she mentioned the matter to Anya Masterton, who in turn had a word with Derek. Truth to tell, I don’t know how keen he was on the notion, for he didn’t exactly welcome me with open arms when first we met. I took it that he was upset, felt slighted, because we had married without asking his advice or permission, though he’s not a blood relative. But I’m sure he would have come round.”
Superintendent Ingham, who had been smoking in silence thus far, stirred. “You say your wife was wealthy?”
“I did.”
“And who gets her money now?”
Gerard gave a taut smile. “I wondered who would ask that one. I told you, I have an independent turn of mind. Oh, I didn’t mind her asking Derek Masterton to give me a job, and if he had given me one, I’d have done it to the best of my ability. But I didn’t want to be beholden to him, or to anyone else. So I asked Emily to make out a will as soon as we were man and wife. Her money … and there’s a lot of it … goes to her sister, Anya Masterton.”
“Does it, indeed? “ asked the Superintendent thoughtfully.
“So you see,” said Charles Gerard, with more spirit than he had thus far shown, “I had no motive for killing my wife. Her money, that I might have used … if I had wanted to … if Emily had lived, goes elsewhere; her brother-in-law has no reason to give me a job … unless he is overcome by an unexpected excess of sentimentality. And for good measure, I am alone, friendless, penniless, in a strange land, and have just lost my wife. Anything else? Oh, I forgot … I am under arrest for murder!”
“Now, now,” said Ingham sternly, “no need to take that tone, sir. I’m only doing my job, you know. And you must confess that it looks bad for you. Unless, that is, you might be able to suggest someone else who would want to kill your wife?”
Gerard looked hopelessly at the Superintendent, and for a moment I thought that he was about to break down. Then he pulled himself together with an obvious effort, and shook his head slowly. “No, I admit that I cannot,” he said. “And I’m sorry about my little outburst just now, but things have been a touch trying. No, that’s the damnable thing about it. Nobody that I can think of had any reason to kill Emily.”
Superintendent Ingham cleared his throat with every appearance of embarrassment. “You say that your wife’s sister will inherit …”
“No!” It was forceful to the point of vehemence. “Why, apart from the fact that the very idea is revolting, Anya Masterton is a wealthy woman in her own right, for the late Mr Cardell, their father, left the two girls well provided for financially. And then Derek Masterton is himself a respected and successful businessman, as you should know, Superintendent.”
Holmes interjected, “How did your late wife get on with her sister?”
“With Anya? Very well. They were hugging and kissing when we first got here
, evidently delighted to see one another after a fairly long absence. Emily had never been here to Singapore, you see, so they had not seen one another since Anya married Derek in England.” He frowned at Holmes. “You surely cannot suspect Anya? As I say, and will keep on saying, the very notion is not merely repulsive but ridiculous.”
Ingham nodded slowly. “All that you say is quite true, sir. But you see that the truth of it only makes things look worse for you?”
Gerard put a hand to his brow. “I know that only too well,” he said ruefully, “but I cannot tell you what I do not know. I only know that I can think of nobody with a reason, a motive, to kill Emily.”
“Your landlady did, I think, mention that you had words with your late wife?” Holmes added innocently.
Gerard stared blankly at him. “Oh? Oh! That was merely a little difference of opinion, Mr Holmes.”
“The evidence of the landlady seemed to suggest that it was a touch heated, though?”
Gerard seemed about to speak, to defend himself perhaps, but then he shrugged his shoulders, and remarked, “I can say only that it was not relevant here, sir.”
“But you will not tell me the cause of the argument?”
“I will not.”
“And you cannot think of anyone … anyone at all … with the slightest reason to wish harm to your wife?”
Gerard shook his head, with more conviction now. “I cannot, Mr Holmes. And nobody with the opportunity, that I can see.” He looked earnestly at Ingham. “But, touching that point, you did not tell me just how she died, apart from suggesting some nonsense about poison?” And he stared at Ingham, with an odd look on his face.
Ingham looked in turn at Holmes and nodded his head to indicate that my old friend should take over.
Holmes said smoothly, “It does seem very much as if the late Mrs Gerard was poisoned.”
“But that’s rank nonsense!” Gerard cried. “We had exactly the same to eat and drink, and I haven’t been poisoned.” He turned and stared at me. “Doctor Watson, you’re a respected medical man … can you be certain that it was not some sort of seizure, a sudden heart attack, something of that kind?”
