Shades of Murder

by Ann Granger

  'Speak away,' said Damaris. She returned the envelopes to their pigeonhole. 'I don't doubt for a minute he was self-seeking and treacherous. He wouldn't have got us to change our wills, though!' She smiled at him, a wide charming smile that suddenly revealed what an attractive young woman she must once have been. 'Florence and I,' she said, 'can be very stubborn.'

  SHADES OF MURDER

  much sadder case. The poor creature had been a victim of a mental disorder which made her afraid to go out. It had reached a point where she would not leave her room in which she lived like an anchorite. The smell in that room had been dreadful. At the suggestion she walk out of it, escorted by Wood, she had set up such a screaming. Of course Emily wasn't like that. She wasn't mad. But these things started somewhere.

  'I'm glad you went out, my dear,' he said. 'You should have the exercise.'

  They'd reached the pudding, a splendid creation, light as a feather and stuffed with currants. Emily placed it on the table with pride. Wood beamed at it and reached for the treacle.

  T hoped it would make you feel better,' said Emily. 'You've been working too hard.'

  'And so it does. It'd make a dying man sit up and think twice about shuffling off the mortal coil. There is nothing,' said Wood, tipping treacle generously over the double helping of pudding she'd served him, 'like a steamed pudding for putting the world to rights.'

  Emily said calmly, T thought I might go to the courthouse on Monday.'

  Wood was dumbfounded. He sat back, resting the handle of his spoon on the tablecloth. 'Travel to Oxford, my dear?' It was unheard of. 'How? Alone?'

  'I've spoken to Mrs Holdsworth. She would like to go as well and would accompany me. You wouldn't object? I think I might like the train journey. We could sit in the public area, could we not?'

  'Yes, yes, of course you could, my dear.' Mrs Holdsworth was their next-door neighbour, a bustling practical widow who took a motherly interest in Emily and an interest of quite another type in Wood himself. He had become adept at fending off Mrs Holdsworth.

  'But...' Wood floundered. He had longed to hear her say she would enlarge her world, go out somewhere away from these few streets around the house. But to the Oakley trial?

  He fell back on saying pettishly, T didn't know Mrs Holdsworth had an interest in notorious cases.'

  Looking down at her plate, Emily said quietly, 'Whatever her reason, on my part it isn't vulgar curiosity. It's something else which I can't explain. I want to see him. I want to see William Oakley.'

  The pudding had lost its savour. Was Oakley's fascination so great that even at a distance, at second-hand, Emily felt its lure?

  'You may find some of the testimony distressing. It's all very unpleasant, you know.' Wood was silently damning Mrs Holdsworth.

  ANN GRANGER

  He was sure this idea had originated with her.

  'Shall I hear something you haven't already told me'?'

  He was caught.

  'Very well,' Wood said heavily. 'Then go, by all means.

  SHADES OF MURDER

  off. She may want to meet you and talk about it - if she's heard, and I dare say she has, as Geoff's involved with the postmortem tests. I don't think it would be a good idea for you to be talking it over with her today, not until we know a bit more.'

  'How is Geoff involved?' Meredith managed to ask in a reasonably normal voice. She'd turned her back on Adrian but was unhappily aware of him hanging on to her every word.

  'It looks like poison.'

  This was a nightmare. Meredith swallowed but her throat was dry and the veneer of normality had left her voice. She could hear herself croaking. 'You know he came to tea on Saturday. I made some cake.'

  'Doubt it was your cooking,' Alan consoled her. 'We'll talk it over tonight.'

  Meredith put down the phone and turned back to find Adrian had left his desk and was hovering over hers.

  'Bad news?' he enquired, a gleam in his eyes.

  'Bit of a surprise, but nothing to worry about,' she said briskly.

  'Family?' Adrian's pink face expressed only decent commiseration but the air around him shimmered with excitement.

  'No, nothing like that. It's all right, Adrian. Nothing for you to bother yourself about.' Meredith picked up her bag. I'm going to lunch.' She left him staring discontentedly after her.

  The canteen was by no means full. Meredith looked around and spotted a familiar face from the consular department. She carried her tray to that table and asked, 'May I join you?'

  'Sure,' said the solitary diner already there. He pointed at the facing empty chair with his knife. 'Park yourself down.'

  Meredith settled herself and cut into her poached eggs on toast. 'Mike, you're on the East European desk, aren't you? You deal with Poland. I wonder if you'd check something out for me?'

  'No problem. What is it?' Mike continued munching as he spoke.

  T would like to know what, if anything, our embassy in Warsaw has on Jan Oakley, spelled O-A-K-L-E-Y. He's a Polish citizen of British descent.'

  TT1 check it out after lunch. What's your interest?'

  T -1 met him in Bamford. I'm curious about him.'

  Mike held her gaze. 'Just curious? Or do you think he's dodgy?'

  'Whatever he was, it's in the past. He's dead.'

  'Blimey, not another of your murders?' Mike managed to combine amazement with a good deal of curiosity of his own.

  ANN GRANGER

  'You don't have to make me sound like a serial killer. I just happen to get involved in these things because - Look. I don't know whether he was murdered or not. and that's the truth. He's only just died. What I do want is to be forearmed or forewarned. I'm not sure which. I don't like nasty surprises and I've just had one.'

  Mike grunted. Talking of which, how're you getting along with that chap in your office?' When she admitted, not very well, he went on, 'I was talking to someone who knew him a couple of years ago in the Middle East. He didn't endear himself to his colleagues. You want to watch yourself. Word has it, he's not a man to confide in.'

  'Believe me, Mike, I'm not likely to!' was her heartfelt reply.

  'He's been asking around about you, you know.'

  'What! I didn't know.'

  'He's heard about your Sherlockian escapades. If you're about to get involved in anything else, for God's sake, don't let him know.'

  Juliet rang, as Alan had suggested she might, early in the afternoon. She suggested they meet after work for a drink and to talk over the news.

  'I really have to get off home,' Meredith told her. 'Can't we make it another day?'

  'Jan's dead now, today!' snapped Juliet. 'We've got to get it sorted out fast. Can you imagine what this is doing to Damaris and Florence?'

  'It's a police matter.' Meredith took refuge in procedure. 'They'll want to interview us all and I don't think we ought to be discussing it ahead of that.'

  'Rubbish. This is exactly the moment we ought to be discussing it. Look, I'm only asking you to find half an hour. Has someone told you not to talk about it? Was it Alan? He can give orders to his underlings but he can't give them to civilians. You're perfectly free to talk to me.'

  The suggestion that she might be thought to be taking orders nettled Meredith. Half an hour couldn't hurt; she'd watch her words. 'There's a pub near the station - The Duke of Wellington. I'll see you there.'

  'What's going on, then?' Adrian's voice came from the other desk as she put down the phone. 'Got mixed up in something nasty?'

  She froze him out with a look but it was going to take more than that to keep his nose out of her business.

  Unfortunately, just as she was packing up to leave later that afternoon, Mike appeared in the doorway. Even more unfortunately. Adrian was at a filing cabinet behind the opened door so Mike couldn't see him.

  This chap Oakley you were asking about. . .' Mike began.

  SHADES OF MURDER

  Damn! though Meredith. I should've warned Mike to let me know privately. She ju
mped up to push him back out into the corridor but wasn't quick enough.

  'About eighteen months ago he made enquiries about getting himself a British passport, but it turned out he wasn't eligible. Then he came in with some story about a will and a fortune which would be his if he went to England and claimed it. He was told to go and get himself a lawyer. The impression he gave was that he had a few screws loose. That the sort of thing you wanted to know?'

  'Thanks, Mike. Just my personal curiosity, you know.' She rolled her eyes towards the unseen Adrian. Mike looked contrite and mimed, 'Sorry!'

  'Who's Oakley?' Adrian emerged from concealment the moment Mike had left.

  'Nobody important. Adrian, do you think you could possibly mind your own business?'

  He gave her a look which was surprisingly vicious. 'Not pulling chestnuts out of the fire for that copper boyfriend of yours, I hope?'

  The malice in his voice rang a dozen warning bells, but Meredith managed to fake reasonable surprise. 'Good Lord, no!'

  His mouth twisted unpleasantly and just for a moment, he really did look extraordinarily like the late Jan Oakley.

  Juliet was at the pub ahead of her, sipping gin and tonic in a corner. A city type leaning on the bar was watching her, clearly planning his move. When he saw Meredith coming in to join Juliet, however, he changed his mind and turned his attention to the barmaid. Meredith dumped her briefcase on the mock leather-covered banquette and at the same time managed to set down a glass of white wine without spilling it. The minor achievement pleased her. She took a seat.

  'I'm here, as requested. But you probably know more about all this than I do, Juliet. All I know is he's dead, suspected poisoning.'

  The pub was filling up with people stopping off for a quick half pint before setting off home. At least, with so many talking all at once, no one could eavesdrop on their conversation here.

  'Have the police found that will of William Oakley's?' Juliet demanded.

  'How should I know?' Alan had been right. This meeting wasn't a good idea. People always imagined Meredith had as much information as the police had. What's more, they were always sure they could persuade

  ANN GRANGER

  her to divulge it. No one ever wanted to believe she didn't know and wouldn't tell if she did.

  Juliet was tapping her magenta nails impatiently on the table top. "Perhaps it doesn't exist. Perhaps it never did. Perhaps the whole thing was an elaborate scam.' She sounded hopeful. 'Anyone could see he was a crook. You do agree with that, don't you?'

  Meredith bit her lip. If Mike was right in his information, Jan had claimed the existence of William Oakley's Polish last will and testament long before he arrived in England. That might, of course, have been part of his plans.

  Nevertheless, she eyed Juliet with some curiosity. 'You've not seen it?'

  Juliet shook her head. 'Not the original. He showed us something he claimed was a certified translation. Laura took a copy of it but said without the original to check it against, we couldn't be sure of it. I asked Jan to produce the original of course, but he said it was in Poland with his lawyers. If you ask me, he was either frightened to let it out of his hands or he didn't want anyone here looking too closely at it. Always supposing there is an original. He insisted he would produce it when the time came - his words.' She stopped the irritating rat-tat of nail on wood and said abruptly, 'He was murdered. No one's said so, no one's used that word yet - but he was, you'll see.'

  Meredith said cautiously, 'If he was murdered because of that will, then it really doesn't matter whether it exists or not. It's enough that someone believed it to exist.'

  'You mean Damaris, Florence and me, don't you? We're the ones involved with the sale of Fourways. Well, I didn't poison the little rat and I'm as sure as I can be of anything in this world that neither of the Oakley sisters did!'

  'It needn't involve the will at all,' Meredith pointed out. 'We don't know what else Jan was involved in.'

  'I'm prepared to believe he was up to his neck in skulduggery,' was Juliet's reply. 'But how do we find out? For all we know, he's been rubbed out by the Mafia.'

  T imagine they shoot people. More direct than poison and you get an instant result. I wonder what he was poisoned with?' Meredith mused.

  'And how someone slipped it to him. Geoff's working on it at his lab.'

  It was ridiculous to feel so guilty about the cake. She'd eaten some. She hadn't even felt sick. Meredith picked up her briefcase. T really do

  SHADES OF MURDER

  have to go or I won't get a seat on the train.' She stared into middle distance, for a moment reminiscent. 'That's where I met Jan, on the train. I can't help but feel a bit sorry for him now when I think about him. He was so - so happy to be here and to see the house.'

  'How can you be sorry for someone who not only caused trouble when he was alive, but who's causing even more now he's dead? You will tell me if Alan comes up with anything?'

  'If you want to know what progress the police are making, read the newspapers or ask Alan yourself,' Meredith told her.

  'I shall,' Juliet said confidently.

  Markby didn't know that Meredith was sitting in a pub with Juliet Painter; he had other things to worry about. At about the same time as they were meeting he had just arrived at the morgue.

  The call had come in late that afternoon. Dr Fuller's assistant asked whether it would be possible for Superintendent Markby to drop by. She managed to make it sound quite a jolly little invitation. He knew better.

  'Now?' Markby asked, glancing at the clock. Fuller was known to be a man with many family commitments centring round his three talented and formidable daughters. He was invariably dashing off to school concerts or rehearsals in church halls and most people had learned from experience that to contact Fuller any time after four in the afternoon was to receive a very tetchy response. Fuller arranged his early start to his day so that he could get off early at the end of it. So, what was so urgent it came between Fuller and the latest string trio recital?

  'He'll wait for you,' said the assistant. She seemed to realise that this was an unheard-of arrangement and added on a note of apology, 'It is very important. Dr Painter is here as well.'

  Markby told her he'd be there shortly and replaced the receiver. It had to be about Jan Oakley. But why was he not to receive a written report as usual? What could be the urgency?

  With foreboding, he set out. If there was an aspect to his job which he disliked more than any other, it was visiting the morgue. In the days when he'd been obliged to attend autopsies, that had been understandable. Now he'd handed that unenviable task on to others. But he still didn't like going anywhere near the place. He knew he ought, by now, to have become hardened to the sight of mangled bodies and to unpleasant things pickled in jars. But he never had and he never would. He couldn't prevent himself from thinking of the sad human remains as individuals. He hoped he never did. Once they ceased to

  ANN GRANGER

  be real people to him, he knew it would be time to retire.

  Fuller was far from his usual cheery self and as for Geoff Painter, Markby had never seen him so awkward. The man seemed positively embarrassed.

  'Good of you to come, Alan.' he said, shaking his hand. "Could've waited until tomorrow, but thought it best - in the circumstances.'

  Markby raised his eyebrows.

  'Coffee!' announced Fuller in a breezy voice which rang distinctly hollow. Til get someone to bring us some. I don't think the girl's gone home.' He reached for his phone.

  'Thank you.'

  There was an awkward silence until the coffee arrived. When Fuller's assistant had left them, Markby set the ball rolling with a brisk, 'Well, what can I do for you both, now I'm here? This is about Oakley, I take it?'

  Fuller said in some relief, 'You know about it already, of course.' He was a small plump man with sandy hair and round dark eyes. Markby was always put in mind of a hamster especially when, as now, Fuller was watching him with a mixt
ure of wariness and interest, his podgy hands clasped in front of his stomach.

  T know what's on the file and that's not much as yet. We're waiting for the PM report from you.'

  T had to call in a colleague,' said Fuller quickly, bobbing his head in the direction of Geoff Painter. T'm not a poisons expert. I recognised the outwards signs, naturally. There was discoloration of the skin, pre-death muscular spasm and vomiting, and when I opened him up, damage to the stomach lining. I sent samples over to Painter pdq.'

  Fuller sat back, his body language indicating he had said his piece and would say no more.

  'When I heard who the deceased was,' Geoff took up the narrative, T dropped everything else and concentrated on the analysis of the samples Fuller sent over. In fact, it didn't take me very long. I checked and re-checked, of course, because I couldn't believe my eyes at first.' He drew a deep breath. 'Arsenic'

  'Arsenic!' Markby almost shouted. 'Are you sure?'

  'Out of the Ark,' commented Fuller and snapped his lips shut again.

  'Of course I'm bloody sure.' Geoff didn't sound so much angry as despairing. T suppose my analysis was made quicker by the fact that we'd been talking of it only the other evening at my place, at our housewarming. That's what makes all this so damn difficult, Alan! There

  SHADES OF MURDER

  we all were, talking not only about arsenic but about the Oakley sisters. My sister had been engaged by them to help them sell their house and buy a flat. Along comes this Jan out of the blue the following week and is delivered to Fourways by Meredith, I might remind you. He throws a spanner in the works regarding the house sale. Everyone's furious. Juliet's spitting mad. The Oakley sisters are devastated. My wife goes rushing over there to tackle Jan but fortunately didn't find him. You and Meredith sought him out in some local pub to explain the error of his ways to him. Meredith, I've been given to understand by my sister, invited Jan to tea on Saturday. Now there's the wretched fellow -' Geoff flung out a hand to indicate the morgue's refrigerated body store,'- dead as mutton. Can't you see? It leaves all of us in a damn awkward situation. We've all of us been buzzing around the man like moths round a flame since he set foot in England.'