“Meaning?”
“She was poisoned.” There was an ominous pause. “With arsenic.”
Chapter Twelve
The Suspects
“I’m seeing her when she’s got the DNA test finished; but if Jill says she died of arsenic poisoning then that’s what she died from.”
“So it rather changes the nature of the investigation then?” Lucy said. “Do you think the police should be involved?”
“No, though it may be a matter for the coroner in due course.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Well it certainly widens the scope of the investigation. Gloria was already showing symptoms of dementia when Susan showed up. Susan denies that she knew that Gloria had made her a beneficiary in her will, but I find that hard to believe in the circumstances. Gloria could have lived for years longer. Someone decided to hurry along nature, and Susan’s the main suspect. Whether or not Susan is Gloria’s real daughter, murder is still murder. Poisoning by arsenic was very prevalent in the nineteenth century. The French referred to it as ‘poudre de succession’. The English translation is inheritance powder. Certainly seems rather apt in this case.”
“But would she have had the opportunity?”
“Arsenic can kill quickly given a high enough dose, but it would show up too easily in any post mortem examination; but if small doses are given over a period of time then the arsenic accumulates in the body tissues until gradually the body can no longer cope. Susan visited Gloria a number of times after she became incapacitated, and she was alone with Gloria on those occasions. She would only have had to slip some powder in her food, and the nurse used to go outside when Susan was there; for a smoke.”
“I told you smoking kills.”
I eyed Lucy menacingly.
“Arsenic is surprisingly easy to get hold of, and it’s tasteless and odorless so no-one would know or even suspect. I mean even the doctor who wrote the death certificate didn’t guess.”
“Isn’t that surprising?”
“Not really, no. You tend to only find what you’re looking for. The symptoms that Gloria had at the time of her death were apparently consistent with the natural progression of her demented condition; although even the doctor remarked that her deterioration was rather rapid.”
“So now, whether Susan is the genuine daughter or not doesn’t matter. She’s not going to be eligible to receive her bequest if she murdered Gloria. Why not make it a police matter?”
“It’s not that simple. There’s no evidence that Susan murdered her. She had opportunity and, if she knew about the will, she had motive. Motive and opportunity don’t amount to proof or anything like it. Susan claims she didn’t even know about the will. I tend not to believe her, but that’s only my own opinion. The real point is that she was not the only one who had the opportunity, and she may not be the only one who had a motive, either.”
“Who else could it have been?”
“There are several possibilities, although I can probably narrow it down a bit. There were nurses from an agency who prepared her meals. It may seem rather far-fetched but there have been many cases where multiple deaths have been caused purposely by medical practitioners, nurses or carers – even doctors, for no obvious reason whatsoever.”
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“I assure you, the list is long. Ever heard of Jane Toppan, she killed over thirty people in Massachusetts General right here in Boston? That was a long time ago but there’ve been a surprising number of similar cases recently too; Kristen Gilbert for example who killed her patients at the Veterans’ Centre in Northampton.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I’m not a psychiatrist or psychologist. I’m just saying that you can’t necessarily exclude them. Of course it’s not likely, I accept that. Then there are Greg’s two sons. One is married so there’s a daughter-in-law too. I think they all visited her regularly albeit briefly in her final weeks; and they stood to inherit too.”
“What about Greg himself?”
“Obviously he can’t be disregarded either, although by all accounts he doted on his wife. He didn’t need money and doesn’t seem to care about it much either. Of course he was under a lot of emotional pressure, but it’s difficult to see what he had to gain. As a matter of fact he confided something to me today which has taken on a new relevance in the light of this latest information.”
“Are you going to share it with me?”
“He has a lady friend who wants to take the friendship to a new level.”
“Do tell.”
“Her name’s Gwen. He employed her as a part-time housekeeper when Gloria was going downhill. They became friends of sorts. It seems that she wanted, or at least now wants, to settle down with him. She’s a divorcee. According to Greg all the momentum for this idea has come from her. He says that he had no inkling that she was thinking along those lines until recently, but In view of what I now know I wonder when she got the idea.”
“So what do you plan to do next?”
“In order to make a case against Susan it’s necessary to exclude the others as possible suspects. I’ll need to interview the two sons and the daughter-in-law, but I don’t want to alert them to the true reason. That would probably defeat the purpose of the exercise. I’ll need to run it past Greg first. I’m not looking forward to that, but I need his co-operation to get to the sons. I can interview them under the pretext of finding out their views about Susan. I don’t suppose Greg will have any objection. The purpose is to exclude his family in order to strengthen the case against Susan who obviously remains the most likely candidate, although I’ll keep an open mind as always. I suppose I’ll have to add Gwen as a possible suspect too.”
“So you suspect everybody and you suspect nobody,” Lucy said in a passable imitation of Inspector Clouseau. “That’ll keep you busy for a while. Just as well – the office phones aren’t exactly red hot.”
“Well there’s always Colonel Saunders.”
“Who’s he?”
“Gloria’s attorney. He’s not really a colonel – that’s just the nickname I’ve made up for him. He said he might be able to put some work my way sometime.”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Lucy said.
The mention of Saunders’ name conjured up a mental image of him when he found out about the arsenic: “What a nightmare.”
Chapter Thirteen
To Tell or Not to Tell
Monday was another dreary day. I had nothing to do except wait for the DNA result and ponder about murder, so I went out for a stroll and a coffee and to collect my car from the shop. It would have been an understatement to say that I wasn’t looking forward to breaking this news to Greg. His wife’s death after a prolonged and unpleasant illness; virtual estrangement of his children for reasons that were not his fault; a possible fraudulent claimant to his wife’s estate. Now this. I didn’t say “what’s next?” I didn’t want to tempt providence.
I was having doubts as well. I often had doubts partway through an investigation, when it gradually sank in that I was getting nowhere fast and didn’t know which junction to take next. Unlike a private investigator on TV I didn’t have a script.
I wondered whether I’d ever be able to determine who killed Gloria. Even though Susan was obviously the prime suspect I still only had motive and opportunity, and even motive was doubtful unless I could prove that she knew about the will. As an illegitimate daughter she would have no claim on intestacy. She could only benefit if she was specifically made a beneficiary. I wasn’t making promising progress on establishing her identity either. She might be a fraud and a killer and yet still walk away with half of Gloria’s estate, which rattled my self-esteem because I was convinced that she’d been playing what she perceived as a clever game with me; a game in which she held all the cards. As for Greg’s sons, whose names I didn’t even know yet, all I knew for sure was that they probably had opportunity. Whether either of them had a mot
ive was something I had yet to find out.
As if in reflection of my mood the clouds were rolling in again. I decided to wait until later to tell Greg; perhaps wait until tomorrow. I wanted to get my thoughts straight on how best to continue. I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t just prevaricating, but I probably was.
I had to admit, to myself at least if not to Lucy, that the prospect of getting out into the suburban peace and quiet was preferable to my old city apartment. The yard really made all the difference, and the porch. I pictured myself on the porch at sunset, if there was going to be one, and then remembered that I’d bought a quart of whiskey which was still unopened. That cheered me up considerably as left the coffee shop and went to collect my car.
Lucy rang from the office after I got home and asked it was okay to stop searching for stories about the missing plane Idaho. Since she had exhausted every avenue of enquiry and since I was practically certain that Susan had simply invented it I told her it was. I would need to bounce some ideas off Lucy when she got home so I called her again and invited myself round to her place for dinner. I’d take it easy for the rest of the day and exercise my mental synapses with some assistance from Jack Daniels. He and I had worked near miracles on cases in the past so perhaps he’d give me some ideas. Lucy called it my medicine.
I spent most of the afternoon on the front porch with my bottle of Tennessee whiskey to loosen up my thinking. As the afternoon drifted by and the rain clouds showed that they were only teasing I conceived a plan. I contemplated what approach Jill might have if she were a private investigator instead of a chemist. She wouldn’t jump to premature conclusions. I realized that I was allowing myself to be too blinkered in my approach. Sure, Susan was a suspect, but I couldn’t exclude Greg’s sons, maybe even Sally the daughter-in-law, without at least taking the trouble to speak with them. I had to keep an open mind at this stage unclouded by any subconscious prejudice or pre-conceived ideas. By late afternoon I’d resolved to withhold the arsenic bombshell from Greg for the time being. If either of Greg’s boys had a motive for murder their knowledge about Jill’s findings would only make them cautious about opening up to me if they had anything to hide, and I wasn’t confident that Greg could be relied on to keep it from his children, and anyway I couldn’t even exclude him as a possible suspect. I went back inside for a shower to freshen up before dinner. Better brush my teeth too. It wouldn’t mask all the booze, but it should be sufficient to let me get away with it.
Lucy surpassed herself with a chicken curry with basmati rice and when we finished we washed the dishes. She washed the dishes, I watched her wash the dishes. The succulent film of the curried chicken on my palate was still working its magic.
“Do you think it’s ethical not to tell Greg about the poison?” Lucy said. “After all Gloria was his wife and he’s your client. Aren’t you supposed to keep him informed about the developments?”
“I always make it clear to my clients that I need to run my investigations the way I think best. You don’t tell your doctor what treatment you need or what to prescribe for an ailment.”
“I haven’t been to a doctor for years,” Lucy said. “I eat nourishing food, get plenty of exercise, drink only in moderation” (the emphasized word was accompanied by a pause and a look that made me know I’d been found out), “and I don’t smoke.”
There was no answer to that, or at least no point in any answer to that, although I was tempted the raise the matter of the microwave meal.
“That was an analogy; you’re not supposed to take it literally.”
She tossed her head and produced an exaggerated “Huh”.
“Anyway, I’m going to tell Greg in my own time, but right now I’m playing my cards close to my chest. I don’t want anybody knowing about it at the moment, not Greg, his family or Susan. Suppose I told Susan and she decided to head off into the sunset with her life packed in the trunk of her Plymouth? That would dampen the investigation a bit; I’d probably never be able to find her again.”
“You could get her on the FBI’s most wanted list. She’d be easy enough to spot in a car that color.”
I’d told Lucy about the lime green Plymouth.
“Why would anybody want a car that color anyway?”
“Not everybody has the same taste Lucy. Take me for example…no forget I said that. Please don’t take me; at least not now, I’ve got work to do.”
Lucy gave me a look of simpering pity but said nothing.
“Did I mention that Susan’s given her car a name?” I said.
“That’s weird. What name’s she given it?”
“I don’t know, she didn’t say. But it’s not so weird. Ships are given names. I’m told that in England people even give their houses names.”
“You should give your car a name. I should think Methuselah would be appropriate, given its age,” Lucy said.”
“Methuselah is a man’s name. Inanimate objects are invariably given female names, like boats…or hurricanes.”
“Well I hope you’re not going to name it after me,” Lucy said.
“I wouldn’t dream of giving you that honor,” I said.
Lucy tossed her head and raised her eyebrows at me.
“So that’s settled then,” I said, “unless you’ve got any bright ideas?”
“You’re the gumshoe, I’m just the window dressing.”
“Lucy,” I said, “you’re my secretary.”
We slumped down in front of the TV. “There’s a good movie tonight,” Lucy said, “‘Moving Target’. Maybe we should watch it so you can pick up some ideas on how a real private detective operates.”
“Touché,” I said.
Chapter Fourteen
A Wiz with Computers
I was on my fifth visit to the Philips’ house and I was beginning to think that it really was enchanted. When I left home there wasn’t a clear patch in the sky and the clouds were spitting at me, but now I was negotiating the subtle curve of Greg’s drive the weather had backed off, the clouds were in full retreat and the sun was so bright I had to fish my shades out of the glove box.
“So we’re no further forward yet?”
Greg sat down opposite me in the living room in his favorite chair, carefully hitching up his light grey pants as he did so to maintain the knife-sharp crease on the front of each leg. I watched in fascination as he crossed his legs. I swear that those creases didn’t move at all; it was as if they were ironed to his leg.
“Well a little. My interviews with Susan certainly seem to have fortified your suspicion that she may be hiding something about her past, and I’ve managed to get a sample of her DNA. As you know, I’ve submitted it to the lab and they’re profiling it just in case we are able to get something to match it with. I’m still optimistic about the hair. Even if we can’t get a match that would pass muster in a courtroom it may be possible to get a sufficient comparison to give us an indication about the likelihood of Susan’s maternity.”
I was stretching the truth here because I had called Jill to run that idea past her. She said it wasn’t like fingerprints where you could have degrees of probability based on the number of ridge characteristics that matched. With DNA either you had sufficient for a match or you didn’t. The fact was, she explained, that practically everyone had some shared DNA characteristics. I was playing for time until I could speak to the other family members. My next pronouncement was an extension of this game-plan, although it wasn’t without possibilities.
“My assistant is a bit of a wiz with computers. She suggested that if you can provide sufficient details of Gloria’s family background she will do a search on a genealogical website to try and construct a detailed family tree. It’s possible that this could reveal a living relative somewhere that shares Gloria’s maternal bloodline.”
This statement was both true and untrue in several respects, and also an exaggeration. No doubt Lucy would have been both astonished and delighted to hear herself described as my assistant if I was e
ver foolish enough to let her know that I frequently used that term to describe her, but I was careful not to let that cat out of the bag. It was also untrue that Lucy had made the suggestion I referred to because the idea had only occurred to me moments before. It was true, however, that Lucy was skilled with computers, or at least so it appeared to a novice like me. And the idea wasn’t so far-fetched as to sound like nonsense. I’d get Lucy onto it right away.
“In the meantime I would like to have meetings with your two sons if you have no objection to that, to see if they can shed any light on the matter.”
“I don’t have any objection to that but, as I told you, they knew nothing about Susan until after Gloria’s death, so I don’t see how that can help you.”
“Well you can’t even be certain about that, can you?”
“Gloria would have told me, I’m sure.”
“She didn’t tell you about the will. It’s conceivable that she may have said something which later slipped her mind. There’s no harm in asking them, and in any event I would like to discuss the issue concerning Susan with them; after all it will have a considerable impact on their inheritance one way or another.”
“Yes, of course I can see that. You’re quite right; they deserve to be fully in the picture.”
I’ll give you my sec…assistant’s email address. Perhaps you’d be good enough to let her have as much detailed information about Gloria as possible and we’ll see what she can come up with. She’s very smart.”
I shuddered inwardly at the thought that Greg might one day reveal this accolade to Lucy herself.
“Just give me a minute and I’ll get you the contact details of my two boys. There’s Simon, he’s married to Sally, and Paul. I’m sorry I don’t think I’ve really told you anything about them yet.”
Greg stood up, and the knife-edge creases accompanied him. They walked over to the living room door together, whilst I remained seated.
FORGET ME NOT (Mark Kane Mysteries Book One) Page 10
