The Dead Squirrel (The Mac Maguire detective mysteries Book 2)

by Patrick C Walsh

  ‘A squirrel?’ Andy said, looking totally mystified.

  ‘It’s not something I’d normally report but it’s the poison that was used that concerns me. Thallium,’ Mac said.

  Andy’s head popped up with a surprised expression.

  ‘Thallium? Really?’ He paused and was clearly giving it some thought. ‘Did you know that there was an epidemic of thallium poisonings in Australia in the fifties and even Agatha Christie used it as a murder weapon in one of her books?’

  Although he’d always been generally impressed with Andy’s breadth of knowledge Mac had the distinct feeling that he’d just looked those facts up. He was very interested to know why.

  ‘Yesterday we dealt with a report of a woman who was found dead in her bed. She was in her forties and initially there appeared to be no suspicious circumstances but they did an autopsy anyway.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ Mac said, ‘our squirrel is the second case of thallium poisoning you’ve had today.’

  Andy nodded, a grim look on his face.

  ‘Just had the tox report a couple of hours ago. I must admit I had to look it up on Wikipedia, I’ve never come across a case of thallium poisoning before.’

  ‘Used to be a really popular murder weapon years ago and probably still would be if it hadn’t been banned. The only cases I’ve heard of in my time were all taken over by the intelligence agencies. So how come you’ve now got two reports of thallium poisoning on near enough the same day?’

  Andy looked stumped.

  ‘Come on, let’s go up to my office.’

  Mac popped his head into the interview room and asked Amanda to wait for him. He then gingerly followed Andy up two flights of stairs. Andy sat down at a desk in a large open area. It reminded Mac of where he used to work. Of course, as a Detective Chief Superintendent, he could have had his own office but he’d always liked being surrounded by his team.

  Andy introduced the tall woman in the trouser suit. She was in her late thirties, had minimal make-up on and had her hair pulled back into a severe bun. She looked very business-like.

  ‘Mac, this is DS Toni Woodgate.’

  They shook hands. Toni’s severity softened as she gave Mac a big smile.

  ‘What do we know about the dead woman?’ Mac asked.

  Andy read aloud from the file he was holding.

  ‘Mrs. Catherine Gascoigne, forty six, a widow. She’d lived in Letchworth for the past fifteen years or so, ever since she and her husband had moved up from London. Her husband died a few years ago and left her quite a bit of money. Apparently she was an expert on nineteenth century romantic literature, Jane Austen, the Brontes and the like. She worked at the University as well as teaching a local course here at the Settlement on the Romantic Novelists of the Nineteenth Century. She was also one of the founders of the Letchworth Society of Janeites, whatever that is.’

  ‘How was Mrs. Gascoigne found?’

  ‘Apparently she’d been off work for a few days as she’d been ill and she’d also missed some important meetings at the Society about an upcoming event. As she was the Chairwoman there were some decisions that could only be approved by her. So one of the members, a Mrs. Penny Bathurst, volunteered to go and see her. She tried ringing the bell and got no answer so she gained entry with a spare key she’d been given some time before. She found Mrs. Gascoigne upstairs lying dead on her bed and immediately rang for an ambulance. A couple of uniforms got there some fifteen minutes after the call and, at first sight, it looked like a natural death. Nothing was out of place and there were no signs of forced entry. As it was a sudden death forensics were called in just in case. They reckoned that she’d been dead for at least six hours and they couldn’t find any evidence at that point indicating foul play. However one of the investigators found large clumps of her hair on a hairbrush. Apparently they’d been pulled from her scalp leaving a big gap and that’s what got him thinking. He did a special tox screen and that’s when the thallium showed up. I spoke to him on the phone and he said that if it hadn’t been for the hair it would probably have been put down as a natural death. He also analysed a nearly empty bottle of water that was found on the bedside table. Judging by the concentration present he said that there would have been enough to kill a horse if she’d drank the whole bottle.’

  ‘You don’t think it was suicide though?’ Mac asked.

  ‘It’s always a possibility I suppose, but no. I think we need to consider this as a murder unless we get any hard evidence to the contrary. Mrs. Bathurst, the woman who found the body, was an old friend and apparently she was very definite that Catherine Gascoigne wouldn’t have taken her own life under any circumstances. There was no suicide note but then again we don’t seem to get that many these days. For me though the real clincher is the poison used. Where on earth would someone like Mrs. Gascoigne get her hands on a sizable quantity of thallium? In fact why use thallium at all? There are much easier ways to kill yourself if that’s what you wanted to do.’

  Mac looked thoughtful.

  ‘Did her illness have anything to do with thallium?’

  ‘Almost definitely according to forensics and that’s another thing. Apparently hair loss usually happens only when thallium has been given over a period and in relatively low doses. Why would you do that to yourself, cause yourself unnecessary pain? If you’ve made the decision to do yourself in, wouldn’t you want it to happen as quickly as possible?’

  ‘I agree,’ Mac said. ‘So it’s likely someone had been poisoning her for a while but the concentration hadn’t been enough to kill her until she was given a final massive dose. Sounds like our poisoner could be something of an amateur.’

  ‘Or perhaps they wanted to see their victim suffer for a while first,’ Toni said with a grim expression.

  ‘You never know. Where did she live?’ Mac asked.

  ‘Willian.’

  ‘Willian?’ Mac looked puzzled. ‘That’s miles from where the squirrel died.’

  ‘Exactly, still I can’t see it being a co-incidence,’ Andy said. ‘We haven’t had any thallium poisonings for God knows how long and now we have two cases, even if one was a squirrel. Anyway that’s pretty much all we know at the moment, we weren’t even sure a crime had been committed until we got the forensic report.’

  ‘So you haven’t started questioning anyone as yet?’ Mac asked.

  ‘Not yet, we’re still trying to find out who we should contact and, if I’m honest, we’re a bit thin on the ground at the moment. We’ve had a spate of burglaries that’s been picked up by the local papers and more than a few councillors have been on our back about it too.’

  ‘Yes I saw the headlines.’

  ‘Now I suppose I could pull some men off that or...’

  Andy left the sentence hanging.

  Mac smiled broadly.

  ‘Need a hand?’

  Andy returned the smile.

  ‘This is right up your street. To be honest I might have paid you a call anyway. I had a meeting with Dan Carter of Luton Police a few days ago and he told me how helpful you’d been in the Hart-Tolliver case. He also told me about your back problems. Do you think you’ll be okay? ’

  Mac assured him that he would be.

  ‘Thanks Andy, boredom and gardening are terrible things and you’re saving me from both. So what’s the plan?’

  ‘I was wondering if you’d like to follow up with some of these Janeites,’ Andy suggested. ‘Hopefully this Penny Bathurst might be able to give you some more information. I’ll get someone to help you. In the meantime Toni and I will visit the University and the Settlement and see what we can find out there.’

  ‘What about family? Did she have any?’

  ‘Only distant cousins apparently on her side but there’s a sister and brother in law on her husband’s side.’

  ‘Mind if I take them as well?’ Mac asked.

  ‘Unfortunately the brother-in-law lives in Canada. I’ll try and get him on the phone later today, however, it would hel
p if you could see the sister-in-law. She lives in Baldock so she’s not too far away. I’ve also got the name of Catherine Gascoigne’s solicitor. I’m hoping that they might be able to tell us who’s in the will. Money’s usually a good place to start.’

  ‘Good thinking, so it looks like we’ve both got a full day’s work ahead of us,’ Mac said with a smile.

  Andy gave Mac the sister-in-law’s address and phone number as well as that of Penny Bathurst. He waited while Andy went to get the ‘someone’ who would be helping him. He returned with a young girl. She was of medium height and slim but with swimmer’s shoulders. She wore a brand new black trouser suit with a plain white blouse. Her blond hair was cut short, too short perhaps. She didn’t look anywhere near old enough to be a detective. Mac sighed as he realised that everyone was starting to look younger nowadays.

  ‘This is DC Marston. She’s brand new to the team and she’s volunteered to come in a week early for which I’m very grateful as we’re so short-handed. She’s read the case file so she’s as up to date as she can be.’

  Mac shook her hand and gave her the once over. She wasn’t exactly pretty but she had an interesting face. Mac always thought pretty faces could be very similar but interesting faces were always different. She was smiling but she looked uncomfortable, her eyes flicking from one to the other as they spoke. In her expression he thought he could detect the traces of a little girl who had been let down once too often.

  ‘Okay so we all know what we’re doing,’ Andy said. ‘Let’s meet back here around five thirty. We’ll go over what we’ve found and decide what to do next.’

  Mac picked up Amanda and he walked outside followed by DC Marston.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting so long but it seems that we were right to report your squirrel’s demise after all. Have you ever met a woman called Catherine Gascoigne?’ Mac asked.

  ‘No but I’ve heard quite a bit about her and the Society,’ Amanda replied.

  ‘The Society of Janeites? Go on,’ Mac prompted.

  ‘Well they’re a group, quite a big group actually, around a hundred members or more I think, and they meet regularly to discuss the works of Jane Austen. They have guest speakers from time to time but the best thing about them is that they hold costume balls every year, one in Spring and one in Autumn. I’m trying to get tickets to the next one but unfortunately there’s always a waiting list. However I’ve found this terrific gown, it’s blue with little…’

  She stopped suddenly and held her hand to her mouth.

  ‘Sorry! God, I sounded just like Miss Bates there for a moment.’

  ‘Who’s Miss Bates?’ DC Marston asked, looking puzzled.

  ‘A character out of Emma, one of Austen’s books,’ Mac answered.

  Amanda looked at him in surprise.

  ‘I’d never have guessed that you read Jane’s books!’ she exclaimed.

  Mac shrugged. He never let on but he had read one or two of Austen’s works. Well, one or two or even six perhaps.

  ‘Anyway why are you asking me about Catherine Gascoigne? What’s she done?’ Amanda asked.

  ‘She died,’ Mac replied. ‘I’m helping the police investigate her death. By the way this is DC Marston who’s helping too.’

  Amanda gave Leigh a smile.

  ‘She died?’ Amanda replied, her expression turning to one of disbelief. ‘I take it that she didn’t die naturally then?’

  ‘That’s what we think but I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself for a while,’ Mac asked.

  ‘Of course. Well I suppose I better get going then as you’re going to be investigating or whatever,’ Amanda said. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Amanda, before you go tell me how come you know so much about these Janeites?’ Mac asked.

  ‘I must admit that I was tempted to join them at one point but a friend of mine who works at the library told me not to bother. She said the woman who ran the Society was a right bitch so I thought again. She was referring to Catherine Gascoigne.’

  ‘What’s the name of your friend?’ Mac asked.

  ‘Anne Holding, she runs the local library and she’s a mad Jane Austen fan too.’

  ‘How did you meet Anne?’

  ‘I was looking for a novel, my costume fixes my husband calls them. I mostly read modern stuff but then I go through a phase every three years or so when I really treat myself and read all six of Jane’s novels one after the other.’

  ‘She only wrote six novels?’ DC Marston asked.

  Knowing the author’s fame she looked quite surprised.

  ‘That’s all unfortunately but what novels they are!’ Amanda replied. ‘Anyway one day I had a craving for some period romance when Anne noticed me skulking around the classics section of the library. She looked at me for a minute and then said, ‘I’ll bet that you’ve read all your Austens and you’re now looking for something else to keep you going.’ I don’t know how she knew that but she was spot on. Anyway we got talking and she told me that she held a little get together every couple of weeks with some other fans to discuss Jane’s books and other classical romantic novels and would I be interested?’

  ‘I take it you said yes?’ Mac asked.

  ‘Of course, I thought it would be fun. It was at the first meeting that I heard about the Janeites and Catherine Gascoigne. There were five other women in the group besides Anne and me and four of these were ex-members of the Janeites. They all agreed that Catherine Gascoigne was an egotistical cow who considered herself to be a very big fish in Letchworth’s small pond. I’m also sure that Anne had some personal reasons for disliking Catherine but she never told me exactly what they were.’

  ‘Okay she sounds like a good place to start,’ Mac said.

  He said his goodbyes to Amanda who looked wistfully on as Mac and DC Marston walked towards the police car park. She read quite a lot of crime fiction as well as period romances and had always dreamed of getting involved in a real investigation.

  She sighed a big sigh and went back to get her dog.

  Chapter Three

  ‘What do I call you, sir?’ DC Marston asked as they made their way to the car park.

  ‘Well not ‘sir’ that’s for certain. My name’s Mac. What’s your first name? If you don’t mind that is.’

  She hesitated for a split second.

  ‘It’s Leigh.’

  ‘Leigh Marston!’

  Mac couldn’t help smiling.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ she asked.

  He could see that her defences had suddenly come up. As she clearly didn’t find his reaction to her name amusing he tried to explain.

  ‘Sorry about that but there’s a village just outside Birmingham called Lea Marston. It has a big hotel with a French restaurant and years ago it was where you took a girl for dinner if you wanted to impress her. I took my wife there a couple of times when we were courting.’

  ‘Really?’ was all she replied.

  ‘I think the food might have impressed her but my French definitely didn’t,’ Mac said, trying to lighten things a little.

  Leigh said nothing and still looked quite put out.

  The smell of books hit Mac as he and Leigh walked inside. It immediately brought him back in time to the red-bricked Victorian palace of a library he’d almost lived in when he was young. Ghost stories had been his favourite back then. He remembered reading them aloud to his friends by a flickering candle in the gang’s hideout, in reality his father’s garden shed, and nearly scaring each other to death. He tended to buy all his books online now, something he suddenly thought was probably a bit of a shame.

  He asked at the counter for Anne Holding and the librarian pointed down an aisle to a figure placing books on a shelf.

  The figure turned as they approached and a smile broke out on her face. Anne Holding was in her forties and had a somewhat rounded figure. Mac thought it suited her though, she looked like a very pleasant woman indeed.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked with a smile.


  ‘We’re from the police,’ Mac said as he introduced himself and Leigh.

  Her smile went down a notch as Leigh showed her a warrant card.

  ‘How can I help the police?’ she asked.

  Mac wondered why she suddenly appeared to be so nervous. Did she have something to hide?

  ‘We just need to ask a few questions. Can we sit down somewhere, away from the public areas?’

  ‘Sure, follow me.’

  She led them towards the back of the library and on the way had a word with another librarian.

  ‘Just making sure someone’s looking after the shop.’

  She opened the door into a room that was used as a kitchen. It had a small table and four plastic chairs.

  ‘Will this do? It’s where we have our lunch.’

  Mac could see that her hands were trembling slightly.

  ‘This will be fine,’ Mac assured her.

  They all sat down. Mac thought Anne looked agitated and was clearly worried about something.

  ‘Tell me, why do you think we’ve come here today?’

  ‘It’s…it’s not my husband, is it?’ she asked nervously.

  ‘No, it’s nothing to do with your husband.’

  Anne sat back with a looked of utter relief on her face.

  ‘I’m sorry I thought you might be going to tell me something terrible about my husband. I’ve had this dream quite a few times where someone official comes into the library and it’s always bad news.’

  ‘We’re looking for some information on Mrs. Catherine Gascoigne. But before we go on tell me why you’re so worried about your husband?’

  ‘He’s in the Army, he’s a staff sergeant and he’s just been sent back to the Middle East as part of a humanitarian mission. Of course he was all up for it, the idiot still thinks he’s twenty. He’s due to retire in a couple of years but I wish to God it was right now.’

  She looked upwards and muttered a little prayer.

  She collected herself and then looked levelly at Mac and asked, ‘So what do the police want to know about the wicked witch of the west?’