The Cat That Played The Tombola

by Fiona Snyckers

  She had to admit it was a good hiding place. It would have gone undiscovered until the following year. It was only Fay’s laziness in not putting the barrel away, and Tigger’s inquisitiveness in squeezing himself into the barrel to explore that had brought the box to her attention.

  She fetched a Ziploc bag from the kitchen and slipped the fragile ammunition box into it. She would take it to the police station that evening and explain how she had found it. Her finger and thumb prints would show up on analysis, which was unfortunate. But perhaps there would be other more useful fingerprints there too.

  Fay glanced at her phone as it buzzed with an incoming message.

  David: I can pick you up at seven if you still want me to come with you to interview Bertha Maidstone.

  Fay replied quickly.

  Fay: That’s fine, but how about I pick you up instead?

  David: I am never setting foot in that rattle trap you call a car ever again. I’ll pick you up at seven in a decent vehicle.

  Fay smiled. She had to admit it would be pleasant to be driven around the village without having to worry about whether the car would cut out at every stop street.

  David’s Range Rover pulled up at the Cat’s Paw just as Fay got back from dropping the ammunition box off at the police station. She had given a detailed statement to Sergeant Jones about how she had found it.

  Fay knew she had just bumped herself even higher up on the list of suspects, but there was nothing she could do about that. As the one who had found both the gun and the empty ammunition box, she was undoubtedly a person of interest.

  Fortunately, Sergeant Jones was used to Fay getting mixed up in investigations and didn’t suspect her with any real seriousness. But he had to go through the motions.

  “You’re right – this is very nice.” Fay sank into the leather interior of the Range Rover and ran a hand admiringly over the computerized dashboard. “Armstrong went to the moon with less technology than this.”

  David smiled. “The Apollo Thirteen didn’t have heated seats.”

  The car glided down the driveway of Penrose House and turned onto the road.

  “Bertha is still living in Mrs. Saville’s house and looking after it,” said Fay. “I have the address if you like.”

  David tapped the dashboard. “Already entered on the GPS.”

  “More technology. I could get used to this. When I was on the force, I drove a series of unmarked Crown Victorias from the detectives’ pool. The Crown Vic is sturdy and reliable, but the ones I got were pretty clapped out. The Volvo is hardly even a step down.”

  David shot her a look. “You seem in good spirits. Has there been a break in the investigation?”

  “I opened the tombola barrel from the spring fair to rescue one of my kittens that had climbed inside and found an empty ammunition box. It almost certainly contained the bullet that was fired at Mrs. Saville. I’m hoping there’ll be fingerprints.”

  “Even if there are, that wouldn’t be conclusive. There could be any number of fingerprints on that box. Lady Chadwick’s for one thing.”

  “And mine for another. I pulled the box out of the barrel with my bare hand before I realized what it was. You’re right – it won’t be conclusive. But it will help to build a case against whoever did this.”

  “Then that’s a reason to be cheerful.”

  They reached the Saville house within minutes. Nothing was very far from anywhere else in Bluebell Village. As they pulled up outside the front door, they saw the silhouette of a woman’s head moving across the window.

  “At least she’s home,” said David.

  “Yes, that saves time. I think we should approach her from the point of view of you as the medical doctor who performed the autopsy making further enquiries about the state of Mrs. Saville’s health. That should get her talking. Then we can throw in some other questions too. A lot of people see doctors as authority figures. They don’t like to say no to them.”

  David looked amused. “I’m guessing you’re not one of them?”

  “Here’s the thing. I used to belong to a profession that is always seen as the ultimate authority figure. I soon realized that cops are flawed and human, just like everyone else. After that, it was hard to put anyone on a pedestal.”

  They rang the doorbell of the Saville home. Fay could see the top of Bertha’s head approaching through the fan-light.

  “Can I help you?” Her eyes were full of suspicion as she popped her head around the door. “Oh, it’s you, Miss Penrose. And Dr. Dyer too. Goodness me.”

  “Sorry to trouble you in the evening, Miss Maidstone,” said David. “I have a few questions about the state of Mrs. Saville’s health in the weeks before she died. May we come in?”

  “Of course.” She stood back and opened the door. “If I’d known you was coming, Doctor, I’d have tidied up a bit.”

  “Everything looks immaculate, thank you. Please don’t trouble yourself.”

  “Nothing is too much trouble for you, Doctor. I’ll make us some tea now, shall I?”

  She bustled off to the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

  “See?” said Fay. “She’s one of those who thinks that doctors are royalty. Especially those who look like a young George Clooney.”

  David winced. “Not you too. I cringe every time someone says that.”

  “I know. That’s what makes it so fun.”

  Bertha came back into the living room and distributed tea for everyone.

  “Do you think Mrs. Saville knew that she was seriously ill?” asked David.

  “I think she was beginning to suspect it. She tried to hide it from me, but of course I was aware. You can’t share a house with someone and not know that they are in terrible pain. I dropped hints all the time that she should go to see you or your father, but she wouldn’t have it. She kept on taking those stupid remedies she got from the place at the docks.”

  “Where did she keep them?” asked Fay.

  “They lived next to her bed. An ever-growing collection. I wasn’t allowed to touch them - not even to dust her bedside table. It sickened me to see them lying there, the useless things. And all the while she was in more pain every day. I still hate the sight of them.”

  There was a pause as Fay and David glanced at each other.

  “What do you mean?” asked Fay. “The remedies aren’t still here, are they?”

  “They certainly are. They’re lined up next to her bed just like always.”

  “Didn’t Sergeant Jones take them with him when he searched the house?”

  “He was going to, Doctor. But then he said that you had already tested some remedies from the same source. He said there was no need to bother testing them all over again.”

  David clutched his forehead. “He was supposed to take them into evidence and send them to the police lab in Truro for testing. Just because I tested something that came from the same source doesn’t mean we don’t need to test the pills she was actually taking. They might be from a different batch.”

  “That’s true,” said Fay. “Would you mind if Dr. Dyer takes the pills next to Mrs. Saville’s bed and tests them in his lab?”

  “Not at all. I’ll be glad to see the back of them. I know my poor employer didn’t die from the poison she was taking, but it made her life a misery and I’ll do whatever I can to find out why.”

  She offered to lead David to Mrs. Saville’s bedroom. When they returned, he was carrying several bottles of pills and liquids that he had slipped into a clear plastic bag.

  As the bottles caught the light from the living room chandelier, they seemed in Fay’s imagination to glow with malevolence.

  Chapter 25

  Fay dragged her eyes away from the bottles and looked at Bertha.

  “Your employer surprised a lot of people with her will. In her daughter’s case, it was a shock because she had thought she would inherit everything. But for others her will has been quite a windfall. Did you know what she was planning to do with her mo
ney?”

  “I had some idea,” said Bertha. “She would talk to me about it, especially when she was in pain. I think she secretly thought that she had an incurable disease and was going to die soon. She talked a lot about her legacy.”

  “Her legacy?”

  “Mrs. Saville liked to tell people how to run their lives. It made her rather unpopular in the village.”

  Fay nodded. “That’s what she was best known for.”

  “What people didn’t realize was that she genuinely wanted them to live better lives. She believed she had a gift that enabled her to see what people were doing wrong and how they could improve. Leaving her money to them was an extension of that.”

  “You mean she believed she was giving them the ability to improve their lives?” asked David.

  “Exactly. With me, it was constant nagging to save up enough money to put towards the bond on my little house. It irritated her that I was living from paycheck to paycheck and not making proper plans for my retirement. Mrs. Saville was a big believer in property. Maybe because her husband made his money through dealing in it.”

  “Did it annoy you?” asked Fay.

  “I didn’t like being told how to run my life. But when I heard that she had left me enough money to pay off my cottage and live there myself instead of letting it out to tenants, I nearly burst into tears. In one way, it was her final attempt to interfere in my life, but it was also very kind and gave me exactly what I needed.”

  “And what about the vet, Martin Trenowyth?”

  Bertha shook her head. “I had no idea they were in a relationship. I suspected that she was seeing someone, but I didn’t know who it was. I should have guessed, because she talked about the vet often. She said he was much better suited to small-animal practice than to a farming community like this. She wanted him to buy into a practice in Penzance. He couldn’t afford it at the time, but she talked about it anyway. Now, I guess he can afford it and a whole lot more.”

  “She left money to the amateur dramatic society too,” said Fay.

  “I heard that, but I don’t know what that was about. She didn’t mention them much, or at least not to me. I’m not sure what she wanted to achieve by leaving money to them, but it definitely wasn’t random. Mrs. Saville never did anything at random.”

  “Why do you think she left so little to her daughter?”

  “Oh, she made no secret of that. She thought Candice would squander it. Her daughter has lurched from one crazy business venture to another over the last ten years, leaking money as she went. Mrs. Saville couldn’t bear the thought that she was going to waste her inheritance too, so she tried to limit how much she left her.”

  “I suppose that makes sense.”

  “It especially galled her that Candice had driven her father’s business into the ground. Eighteen months was all it took for her to destroy everything he had built up over years. Mrs. Saville never forgave her for that.”

  Bertha finished her tea and suppressed a yawn.

  David caught Fay’s eye and she nodded. It was time for them to leave the housekeeper in peace.

  “Thank you so much for your time,” he said, standing up. “And for the tea, of course.”

  “Yes,” agreed Fay. “You’ve been very helpful.

  Bertha’s smile was directed at David. “Anything for you, Doctor.”

  Fay was thoughtful as they climbed back into the car. “I’m beginning to understand Mrs. Saville better. We need to get these remedies analyzed as quickly as possible.”

  “I was thinking of doing it now. You can come along if you like. I should have a result for you quickly.”

  “I’d like that, thanks.”

  The car pulled into the High Street and immediately slowed down to a crawl. The road was narrow in parts and full of pedestrians. The quaint High Street with its parade of old-fashioned shopfronts and cheerful restaurants was like a magnet for tourists and villagers alike.

  The tourists had a tendency to treat the traffic as though it didn’t exist, stepping in and out of the road with no regard to cars. Fay noticed two families and a young couple who were staying at the Cat’s Paw strolling on the sidewalk. She hoped they were enjoying themselves. Every guest who had a good time on Bluebell Island was likely to pay a return visit, and also to recommend the Cat’s Paw to their friends and family.

  As she gazed out the car window, she noticed a middle-aged couple walking along hand in hand. There was something familiar about the backs of their heads.

  “Wait a moment,” she said. “Isn’t that Raymond and Pippa from the theatre?”

  “Hmm?” David took his eyes off the road to look where she was pointing. “Yes, it is. Didn’t you hear about them?”

  “Apparently not. I thought their relationship was still up in the air.”

  “Not anymore. Pippa came to consult me yesterday for a minor ailment. She told me she and Raymond had reconciled. It had something to do with the money Mrs. Saville left them. Now that they will both be more secure financially, they realized they had wasted years being angry with each other when they could have been together and getting on with their lives. Now it seems as though all is forgiven and forgotten. They look like young lovers, don’t they?”

  “They certainly do,” said Fay.

  She watched for a moment, seeing them exchange a smile as they paused to let a car pass.

  “I wonder if you can make sense of something I heard the other day,” she said.

  “I’ll certainly give it a try.”

  “When I was at the theater picking up the costumes for dry-cleaning, Raymond said something about how the look on ‘her’ face would haunt him for the rest of his life. I wondered what he meant by that.”

  “Oh, I know the answer to that. He was talking about his ex-wife. He often says he will never forget her expression when he told her he was leaving her for Pippa. The guilt still troubles him.”

  David filled three glass containers with liquids from Mrs. Saville’s bedside stash. He added two reagents each to the liquids, explaining that they were zinc and acid. Then he let them sit for a few minutes.

  This was the second time Fay had watched him in his laboratory. He worked efficiently, his movements economical and precise.

  “Arsenic was such a successful poison in the past because it has no flavor and no odor and can easily be added to food and drink. In the old days, the poison was undetectable in the human body after death.”

  “Creepy.”

  “Then a man by the name of James Marsh developed a test that could detect the presence of arsine gas. You just had to add zinc and acid to the sample to force it to give off gas. He would then set fire to the gas and see whether it left a telltale stain of silvery black arsenic in its wake.”

  Fay’s eyes were wide. “Are you going to set fire to that gas?”

  “Luckily, that’s not necessary these days. I have here a test strip that I will hold above the liquid. It will test the gas in the container and turn blue if it detects arsenic.” He checked the timer he had set for the test. “Thirty minutes. That’s long enough.”

  He inserted test strips into each of the air-tight containers and sealed them again with the strips dangling into the space above the liquid.

  “How long does it take? This strip is staying pink.”

  “This one is too, but look at the one closest to me.”

  As they watched, the test strip changed from pink to blue and then to a kind of silvery navy.

  “Does that mean it’s positive?”

  “It does indeed. Arsenic gas must be present in significant quantities to make the strip turn that color. Let me see which one that is.” He consulted the key he had made. “It’s the Arsenicum.”

  “I thought these homeopathic remedies were supposed to be so diluted that they would show up as pure water.”

  “That’s how it should work. We need to know where Gary Malkin gets these remedies of his. Does he make them himself?”

  “He orders the
m off the internet. I believe he has a couple of different suppliers that he uses.”

  An hour passed as David tested each one of the remedies that had been on Mrs. Saville’s bedside table. They all came up negative.

  “It’s only the Arsenicum that’s a problem. What would it have been prescribed for?”

  “According to Malkin, she came to him complaining of an upset stomach. He prescribed Arsenicum and Nux Vomica, and something else very peculiar. What was it again? Oh, yes. Petroleum.”

  “Yum.”

  “I know, right? But supposedly it’s all water anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Except in this case, there was actual arsenic in the Arsenicum.”

  David turned to face her, and Fay took a step back. It was a very small laboratory and he was a little close for comfort.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked. “Do you really think Gary Malkin has been systematically poisoning his clients?”

  “No,” she said at once. “I don’t think that’s it. Why would he choose a method that could so easily be traced back to him? And what was in it for him? It’s not like she left him anything in her will. I think this was a case of accidental poisoning.”

  “You think the fault lies with the supplier?”

  “Most likely, yes.”

  “It could also be a matter of cross-contamination,” he said. “I’ve seen cases like that before. It can happen at the warehouse stage. Commodities get stored together carelessly and end up adulterating each other. Or someone uses pesticides in the warehouse to keep vermin away and that contaminates an item.”

  “That could be it. But however it happened, it’s going to ruin Gary Malkin. I don’t think his reputation on the island could recover from that. He’ll probably have to relocate to the mainland.”

  “I feel sorry for him personally, but it will make my life easier when he’s gone. He has caused some real harm to my patients.”