by Carola Dunn
“That’s why women aren’t police detectives,” said Worrall pompously. Alec wouldn’t have dared. Not with Daisy listening.
However, a glance from Alec averted the tart comment hovering on her tongue. “No more family?” he said. “I doubt Etty and … the two maids are involved, though I’ll keep them under consideration, of course, and they’ll have to be questioned about anything they may have seen or heard.”
“They’re not here in the evenings. I don’t know what time they go home, but there are no servants helping at dinner.”
“So, the other guests. Presumably they can’t be involved in the long-term nastiness.”
“No,” Daisy said decisively. “They’re both here because of Myra, and she’s not long out of school.”
“Both after the same girl,” said the inspector, “sounds to me as if they’re more likely to murder each other than anyone else.”
“Did Birtwhistle forbid the banns, Daisy?”
“As far as I can make out, the only person who controls her actions in any degree is the lawyer who’s her trustee. She told me all he cares about is that she doesn’t overspend her quarterly allowance, poor girl.”
“Poor girl!” Worrall exclaimed.
“No one has really cared what she does with herself since she left school. I feel sorry for her.”
Alec wanted clarification: “No one, including Humphrey Birtwhistle, was or is likely to put a rub in her way if she decides to marry either—what’s their names? Carey or Ilkton?”
“Neil Carey and Walter Ilkton. I’d be surprised if there wasn’t a general feeling of relief that she’s off their hands.”
“No apparent motive there, then. Now, what about Mrs. Sutherby and Dr. Knox? You told Mr. Worrall last night that they’re ‘not really’ sweethearts. What exactly did you mean by that, Daisy?”
“They’re friends. I believe he comes to Eyrie Farm somewhat more often than his patient’s condition warrants, mostly to see her, though he’s welcomed by the Birtwhistles. I can’t see that Sybil and Roger’s precise relationship has anything whatsoever to do with your investigation, even if I knew. After all, Sybil asked me to … um…” She had to avoid the word investigate, which would set Alec off again. “… To advise her, and Dr. Knox refused a death certificate. And he got you involved, Alec, by telling them about my august connection with the Yard. Neither makes any sense if they planned to do away with Humphrey.”
“We’ve already discussed Knox’s possible reasoning about calling us in. Doubtless it hasn’t occurred to you that Mrs. Sutherby could have involved you as a blind, that she may consider the rumours of your detecting abilities as a joke.”
“Certainly not!” Daisy said indignantly. “Any more than Roger considers the Yard’s detecting abilities a joke! Sybil was very much in earnest.”
“How well do you know her? I don’t recall your ever mentioning her before you told me about this visit.”
“Not very well,” she was forced to admit. “She was a year ahead of me at school, and you know what a gap a single year can be at that age. In fact, I’d just about forgotten her existence since she left school, until she wrote to say she was going to be in town a couple of weeks ago and then lunched with Lucy and me.”
“Just like that, out of the blue?” said Worrall. “Sounds odd to me. I can’t see why they’d be working together. Seems to me their motives clash. What I think—this is just a theory, mind!—is either Mrs. Sutherby decided she could manage without the deceased and wanted all the proceeds for herself; or the doctor decided she’d never marry him as long as she was making her living with this writing business, but with the deceased out of the way, she’d have to take him.”
Alec nodded. “Either would make sense. Sorry, Daisy. They have to stay on the list. Never mind, they have plenty of company.”
Daisy knew better than to argue. No one was ever stricken from Alec’s lists of suspects until he had solid evidence of innocence or, alternatively, solid evidence of someone else’s guilt. Myra and Simon were undoubtedly still on it, along with Lorna and Norman, and probably Ruby, too, however certain Daisy was that she would never have harmed her husband.
Unfortunately, in the past Alec had occasionally proved correct about people Daisy could have sworn wouldn’t hurt a fly.
NINETEEN
“Daisy, could you give us your impressions of how everyone took the news of Birtwhistle’s death? How they looked, what they said and so on? It’s not evidence but it might help to point us in the right direction.”
Daisy thought back to last night. The one thing she could recall clearly was Ruby’s stark-white face when she rushed into the hall and reported that Humphrey was not breathing.
“I’m not sure. It’s all blurred. As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t just an elderly man dying quietly in his own bed, it was a horrible shock because of Sybil’s suspicions.” She hesitated.
“I think I heard a car.” DI Worrall went out to the passage and across to the window. “Yes, that’s Dr. Knox just pulled up,” he said, returning. “I’ll go and fetch him here, shall I, Mr. Fletcher?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. I’d rather he didn’t talk to anyone else first.”
“Just what I was thinking,” said Worrall, pleased, and went out.
“Last night?” Alec prompted Daisy.
“Roger—Dr. Knox—went off immediately with Ruby. He said something reassuring.…”
“Start with that. Try to remember his exact words, and that may lead you to the rest. You have your notebook on you?”
“Always. One never knows when an idea will strike.”
“Good. Write it all down as it comes to you. Just stay where you are and concentrate, and do for pity’s sake try not to interrupt.”
“You’re not making me leave?”
“I don’t want you talking to the others before I do.”
“But last night, and at breakfast … Though no one was talking much at breakfast. Lorna cooked it, just as usual, as if nothing had happened, and—”
“Just write it all down, would you, love? And while you’re about it, try to remember where everyone was earlier in the evening, and what they were doing. I want to get my thoughts in order before I see the doctor.”
“Sorry.” Reluctantly, Daisy tried to concentrate on Ruby’s entrance into the hall with her alarming announcement and plea for Roger’s help.
Simon had gone with them, hadn’t he? And Myra had burst into tears, she was sure of that. She scribbled a few notes as bits and pieces came back to her. Then DI Worrall ushered in Roger Knox, diverting her attention entirely from last night to the present.
She did her best to look as if she was still scouring her memory for details of last night, head down, pencil poised. Surely Alec didn’t believe she wouldn’t listen? He knew her better! Perhaps—dared she hope?—he actually wanted her to listen so that he could ask for her impressions later. He ought to have realised by now how helpful she could be, although doubtless he’d continue to describe it as meddling.
From the corner of her eye she saw Alec shake hands with Roger, a good sign as he always tried to avoid it with his major suspects. Roger, his eyes on the police officers, didn’t appear to notice Daisy’s presence off to one side.
“Thank you for coming up here, Doctor.”
“I wouldn’t have left this morning,” Roger said dryly, “if it wasn’t that Dr. Harris, though he agreed to act as my locum, wasn’t at all happy about it. I thought I’d better spare him the morning surgery. I would have come back anyway, to see Mrs. Birtwhistle, but I was sure you’d have a few questions for me, as Humphrey’s medical attendant.”
“We do.”
“I assume you want to know whether I ever prescribed chloral hydrate for him. The answer is, certainly not. He was in need of stimulants, not sedatives.”
“What medicines was he taking?”
“Castor oil. Inactivity inhibits the normal motion—”
“Quite. Anything else?
”
“Aspirin, to be taken as needed. He had the occasional rheumatic pains common at his age. And nux vomica, which I was reluctant to prescribe, but having already tried all the safer stimulants … However, Ruby—Mrs. Birtwhistle—told me he didn’t take it last night because he was in good form and he wanted a drink or two. Nux vomica and alcohol taken together often cause some discomfort.”
“I took all the medicine bottles and pill boxes last night, sir. They’ve gone for analysis.”
Alec nodded approval. “What about mixing chloral and alcohol, Doctor?”
“Both depressants. The alcohol would enhance the effects of the chloral. What’s more, as chloral is bitter-tasting, the particular drink that Humphrey favoured would tend to conceal the taste. He almost always drank pink gin, that is, gin and bitters.”
After a moment’s thoughtful silence, Alec said, “Suggesting that the drug was introduced into his drink.”
“Such would be my assumption.”
“Thank you, this gives us a place to start. Presumably the glass has been washed, but we’ll test the bottles.” He nodded to Worrall, who went out. “Who poured the drinks?”
Roger hesitated. “I can’t believe—”
“Doctor, anyone who dined here last night can tell me. You just happen to be the first person I’m asking. Let me assure you, we’re not going to jump to the conclusion that the poisoner must be the person who mixed the pink gins. I would guess it was probably young Birtwhistle, Simon, rather than his father or uncle?”
“Well, yes, usually.”
“Did he also hand them about?”
“I didn’t get here till after dinner, and I wasn’t paying much attention, but no, I’m pretty sure he didn’t.”
“Who did?” Alec asked patiently.
“Come to think of it, it was one of Myra’s admirers who handed me my whisky. Ilkton or young Carey, I don’t recall which. You know about them, I take it?”
“We have a list of everyone who was here.”
“I’ve told you I wasn’t here for dinner. If it was similar to the night before, Ilkton and Carey were vying to demonstrate their helpfulness all evening. The maids go home well before dinner, you see, so the family pitches in, though not in general their guests. As for after dinner last night, I couldn’t say who took Humphrey his glass, not even whether it was one of those two, I’m afraid.”
Nor could Daisy remember. She had sat next to Humphrey at dinner, as she had the night before, and near him afterwards, before the card game started. Simon had poured drinks again, before, at, and after dinner, but who had delivered them she had no notion.
“Who else might it have been?”
“Myra was trying—successfully in the end—to persuade everyone to play Happy Families. A restful change after Racing Demon the night before. Ilkton obviously would have preferred bridge or whist, but inevitably succumbed to her wiles. Miss Birtwhistle and Norman had gone off by then. Heaven alone knows how they spend their evenings.”
“Humphrey was drinking a pink gin cocktail when you arrived after dinner, though?”
“That’s what it looked like.”
“Who was sitting nearest to him at that time?”
“His wife, and … yours? Mrs. Fletcher.”
“My wife,” Alec acknowledged. “If you have any doubts of my impartiality—”
“No, no. It was I who felt the local police ought to be made aware of Mrs. Fletcher’s … connections. I admit I hoped it would bring you here. While I’ve no reason to believe Inspector Worrall is not a capable detective, I was afraid there might be complications in the case beyond his competence.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the possibility that Humphrey’s chronic debility was the result of taking a sedative drug, administered with or without his knowledge.”
“With! Why on earth…?”
“This is what you may understand, whereas I very much doubt whether your colleague would. As long as Humphrey was ill, he didn’t have to acknowledge, to himself or anyone else, that Sybil runs rings round him when it comes to writing ability. As long as he was too ill to sit at his desk and pen the words and sentences himself, he could keep on thinking of her as his secretary. He had an incentive not to recover.”
“I see what you mean. You’re aware of the snag, of course. At least, I assume he wasn’t fit enough to pop into Matlock, see a different doctor, and buy his own prescription?”
“No. Not the slightest possibility.”
“So one way or another, someone else was involved, whether at his bidding or not.”
“You’re right,” Roger said slowly. “I hadn’t really thought it through—tried to avoid thinking about it, as if that would make it go away. Which makes nonsense of the whole picture. The only person he would have trusted was Ruby, and it’s inconceivable that she would agree to assist him in ruining his own health.”
Alec made no comment on this assertion. “Accepting for the moment the hypothesis that someone was drugging him, were the symptoms consistent with long-term use of chloral?”
Roger frowned. “No. Though there’s nothing hard and fast about it, I would have expected—”
“No need to elaborate at this point, thank you. What drug had you in mind? If you went so far as to wonder.”
“Potassium bromide is the obvious choice. No doctor would hesitate to prescribe a low dose for a patient who claimed to have insomnia. He’d have no means of knowing whether such a claim was true or not. He’d probably advise against taking it regularly for long periods, which could account for Humphrey’s good spells. But if the supposed patient showed no untoward symptoms and the doctor wasn’t meticulous about checking dates, he might well go on renewing the prescription endlessly.”
“You, I take it, have not prescribed potassium bromide for anyone in the household?”
“Certainly not!” Roger bristled.
“I had to ask.”
“What’s more, had anyone asked for bromide, or any sedative, in the past—oh, say eighteen months, I should have been on my guard.”
“Eighteen months.”
“A year is not an undue period for recovery from severe pneumonia, especially as Humphrey is—was—no spring chicken. Though the lungs may clear, the general weakness is hard to throw off. It wasn’t until he started to show no further signs of improvement that I began to wonder what was wrong, and then to worry about my inability to diagnose the problem.”
“Did you call in a colleague for a second opinion?”
“Humphrey refused to see anyone else. By that point, I suspect, he was coming to grips with the fact that the books written by Sybil—Mrs. Sutherby—were selling better than his own. He was in no mood to be fussed over.”
At this point, Worrall returned in triumph, bearing two bottles, one with an outsize label. He carried them carefully by the necks, each wrapped in a napkin to preserve fingerprints. “Got ’em, sir. The only bottle of Angostura bitters in the house, and the only opened bottle of gin, and none emptied and thrown out last night.” He set them on the desk and retrieved his notebook.
Daisy gladly stopped taking notes in her idiosyncratic version of Pitman’s shorthand, as she had been since he left, just in case they were needed.
“It’s unlikely you’ll find anything in the gin,” said Roger. “Humphrey wasn’t the only person drinking it. He may have been the only one to take bitters, but it’d be a bit of a risk doping the bottle.”
“It’s a long shot, Doctor,” Worrall agreed, “but we’ve got to test ’em any road. Most likely the stuff was put in his glass, don’t you think, sir?”
“Most likely. Was his after-dinner drink his first of the evening, Doctor?”
“I doubt it. One before dinner, I expect, and another with his meal. He didn’t care for wine. He was braving my disapproval, I may say. He always did when he was feeling his oats, though he did avoid alcohol while taking the nux vomica.”
The second pink gin had been at Humphrey�
�s place when they went into the dining room, Daisy recalled. She was itching to say so, but managed to hold her tongue. Or, on second thoughts, was that the previous evening?
“I don’t suppose you know who was sitting next to him at dinner?” Alec asked.
Roger grinned. “No, but probably your wife, Chief Inspector. Humphrey took a fancy to her. Ruby always took the other end of the table, so Sybil was probably on his other side. But if you think Sybil—”
“I don’t as yet think anything. Let’s get back to the question of prescriptions. Have you any other patients in the household?”
“Mrs. Birtwhistle, though she’s very healthy and rarely consults me. The children—Simon and Myra—I used to see occasionally before they went away to school. If they’ve had need of medical attention since, it’s been at their schools. The same goes for Monica, Mrs. Sutherby’s little girl.”
“And Mrs. Sutherby?”
“Once or twice, a few years ago, not for anything significant. If she wanted to consult me now, I’d have to advise her to find another doctor.”
“Why is that?”
“The British Medical Association frowns on close relationships between doctors and their patients.”
“You have a close relationship with Mrs. Sutherby?”
“Not at present, but I live in hope. I know the inspector was watching us talking last night, and I’ve little doubt that he drew his own conclusions and reported to you. Besides, we’ve nothing to hide.”
Alec nodded noncommittally. “Miss Birtwhistle and Mr. Norman?”
“I’ve never dealt with them professionally. It may be that they go to someone else, but they’re of a class and generation that rarely seeks medical attention until in extremis.”
“Any further questions, Inspector?”
“You’ll have covered a lot while I was gone after the bottles, sir. I’ll wait and see what you’ve got.”
