by Ann Granger
Markby held up both hands to calm the speaker. Geoff looked about ready to lose all control. Fuller, having passed the buck successfully, observed them both with clinical detachment.
'Take it easy, Geoff,' Markby urged. 'I'm sorry if I appear to question your findings, but didn't you tell us, on the occasion of our conversation at your party, about the Black Widow of Loudun who walked free because the forensic evidence was unclear?'
'Oh, come on!' burst out Geoff heatedly. 'That was forty years ago! Techniques are more sophisticated now and anyway, I assure you, none of the mistakes were made by either me or Fuller here -' Fuller looked startled at being dragged back into the thick of things '- which were made in the laboratories back then.'
'Certainly not,' said Fuller firmly. T can't speak for Painter, but I can speak for myself. Deceased showed every physical sign of poisoning.'
'All right,' said Markby, trying to cling to method amongst apparent increasing madness all around. 'If it's arsenic, did he ingest it?'
'Oh, almost certainly,' said Fuller. 'Judging by the state of the stomach lining and gullet,'
T didn't carry out the post mortem,' said Geoff, 'but I did analyse some of the stomach contents and I agree. In principle, arsenic doesn't have to be ingested. It could be applied to the skin in some preparation over a long period. The ancient Egyptians used it in face paint and it probably killed a few of 'em.'
'We are, therefore, talking about murder,' Markby insisted.
Painter said almost wistfully, 'He could have taken it himself, I suppose.'
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'Suicide?' Markby nodded. 'We'll have to consider that. But I'd have thought arsenic as a means of suicide went out with Madame Bovary.'
Geoff reddened and twisted on his chair. 'Ah, well, there's an outside possibility -just a theory -1 believe that in certain rural areas of Central Europe it's still believed that dosing oneself with controlled amounts of arsenic does you good. The locals start by taking just a little and increase it. Incredibly, they survive. Yet a hundred milligrams is normally lethal.'
Geoff sighed and went on in a tone of deep regret, 'I have to say, in this case, I've got to rule it out. It isn't a case of slow accumulative poisoning. He took a massive dose, more than enough to do the trick. You understand my tests aren't complete, but I don't anticipate any change to my basic findings.'
'All right, Geoff. You'll write all this up, both of you, as soon as you can?'
Fuller nodded. Geoff Painter looked, if anything, more miserable. 'I have to mention this, Alan, in case you've forgotten. Also at our house-warming party, I mentioned the murder of Cora Oakley which occurred at Fourways back in the 1880s. I lent Meredith my collection of research papers on the case.'
'Yes, she's reading through them. It keeps her quiet in the evening, I must say,' Markby remarked.
T know Juliet wouldn't let me tell the whole story, but you already knew it, didn't you?' Geoff said piteously. 'And I dare say Fuller here does?'
'Oh yes,' said Fuller, perking up. 'Quite a cause celebre, that one. The husband was charged but got away with it. He used arsenic'
T know,' Meredith said that evening, 'that at a time like this everyone says they can't believe what's happened. But truly, I can't.'
'Then you'd better start believing it,' said Alan grumpily.
T do! It's just, he was so - so alive on Saturday afternoon, objectionable and smarmy by turns, just his usual dodgy self. Now I feel guilty.'
'What on earth for? You were all set to have me contact Interpol the moment you met him,' Alan pointed out.
No one likes to be reminded of inconsistencies in their attitude. Meredith was obliged to say unwillingly, 'Perhaps we didn't give him a chance. Perhaps he was telling the truth when he said he would make no further claims on Fourways or the Oakleys.'
'You didn't believe him when he told you that, so why start believing him now? It's too late for you to start changing your mind, anyway. The
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man's dead. Someone, somehow, fed him arsenic. Half a dozen people wanted him out of the way, including a pair of elderly sisters and possibly the sister and wife of the poisons expert. All of us were aware of the trouble he was causing. You and I made a special expedition to The Feathers the other evening to warn off Jan. We've all of us, in short, had a finger in that particular pie.'
The evening was cool rather than chill, but they had set a small log ablaze in the hearth, seeking, Meredith thought, warm and comfort in the aftermath of a shock. The wood crackled and spat. She wondered whether to tell Alan she had spoken to Juliet Painter, despite his advice not to. She decided against it. He was already out of sorts and I do not, she thought, have to account to him for every minute of my day!
'Neither you nor I had a motive to kill Jan,' she said firmly. 'Nor, come to that, the means. I didn't want him dead. I just wanted him to go back to Poland and stop pestering the Oakleys and making Juliet's life difficult so that she'd stop making my life difficult! We knew him and we didn't like what he was doing, but as for our involvement, both you and I were just trying to help.'
'Something I'll have to explain to the chief constable tomorrow. He's requested my presence at nine sharp.'
She twisted in the crook of his arm. 'Surely they wouldn't take you off the case?'
'They might. I'll argue that they shouldn't. I've known the Oakleys since I was a nipper and I'd like to be the one dealing with them. On the other hand, it's a good reason why I shouldn't.'
'If it's any consolation,' said Meredith gloomily, 'you're not the only one compromised. I asked a colleague in the consular department if the Warsaw Embassy had anything on Jan.' She summed up Mike's information. 'Adrian was eavesdropping. You're going to have to cover my enquiry. Can you put in an official request for information first thing tomorrow, before you go off to the Chief Constable? I thought it was interesting that Jan had been talking about a will eighteen months ago. It indicates it really does exist.'
She shook off the gloom and became animated. 'For my money, that will not only exists but it's hidden somewhere. I don't believe it was left behind in Poland with some lawyer. Jan would have brought it with him. He saw it as his passport to a fortune.'
T didn't see it when I checked his room. Since then SOCO have been in and gone over the place and they've not found it either.' Alan shrugged. 'But you've seen Fourways. There must be more hiding places there
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than you could winkle out in a month of Sundays. We could tear the place apart and not find it."
He cleared his throat and asked in an embarrassed way. 'Got any of that cake left?"
"Sure. Out in the kitchen. I'll cut you a slice." She got up.
His embarrassment increased. 'No thank you, though I'm sure it's delicious. I - I'd like to hand it over to forensics.'
He saw her face redden, eyes gleam with outrage. 'You're not suggesting -? I hadn't got any reason to spike the wretched thing. As if I would! Anyway Jan only ate one piece and I ate some, too.'
He warded her off. 'We're going to have to account for every minute of Jan's last day. We have to track down everything he ate, starting with breakfast. He'll have had that at Fourways. I don't know what he did about lunch. He had tea with you. He ate, I suppose, at The Feathers in the evening. All that can be checked. After that, we're up against the unknown. Where else did he go that day? What else did he eat?' Markby paused and added, 'Did he know anyone else in England? Had he threatened or been threatened by anyone else?'
Meredith said very quietly, 'If he only knew the Oakleys and threatened to make trouble for them, then Damaris and Florence are the obvious suspects. But that's ridiculous! Those two old women?'
T agree it seems unlikely, to say the least.' He recalled his visit. 'Juliet is right about the state of that house. The land is worth more and at least one developer has shown interest in that. You remember Dudley Newman? I suppose the house might make a hotel. Someone could paint a stain on t
he floor of the room Cora died in and tell the story of the murder. The punters like that kind of thing.'
'Don't be so gruesome.' She sounded shocked.
'Gallows humour, a copper's speciality. It's a shame about the house. It was in the back of my mind when I went there that it might suit you and me.'
Tn the state both you and Juliet say it's in?' Meredith shook her head in disbelief
'So it'll be going cheap. We could do it up. No, we couldn't, actually. It's got past that stage. I'm really sorry. The press will like it when the story gets about. Can you imagine it? A crumbling mansion, a couple of sisters they'll probably describe as being recluses, to say nothing of a mysterious death in the same family and same place in years gone by. There will be pictures in all the papers, you bet. The Oakley sisters are in for a lot of unwanted attention. I don't know how they're going to
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cope with it. They mightn't be reclusive but they are intensively private.'
His tone became brisker. 'What we need to do is trace the source of
the arsenic. The likelihood is that if we can find where it came from,
we'll have our murderer. It's not something you can buy over the counter
these days or pinch from some processing plant without it being realised.
A modern murderer can't get hold of it as easily as William Oakley did.'
He got no answer to this and looked up curiously.
Meredith had paled. 'Deja vu ...' she said soberly. 'It's creepy, really.
Two murders at Fourways, both using arsenic, separated by a century. In
the first William was accused of being the murderer, but escaped justice.
In the second his great-grandson is the victim. It's almost as if someone
has been waiting all that time to mete out a sort of warped revenge.'
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The Reuter's man had travelled ahead of him and was sitting in the press box by the time Stanley arrived. He'd pinched Stanley's place nearest the witness box. What's more, he'd already come by some information.
'He's going to put that nursemaid on the stand,' said the Reuter's man.
'What - old Green?' asked Stanley disbelievingiy. 'He never is.'
'That's what I've learned. It might be clever at that. If she comes over well, as an honest girl and all that, it scuttles that housekeeper's testimony well and truly.'
'He's taking a blooming big risk,' said Stanley, adding, 'Well, I'm damned!'
The Reuter's man nodded in agreement but he had mistaken the reason for Stanley's last words. Surprised as he'd been to hear of defence's intentions, he was even more surprised to see, entering the court through the public gallery, the two women he'd last seen on Bamford Station.
They appeared to be debating where to take their seats. The older woman seemed to be for sitting in the lower rows to have a good view. Her young companion appeared reluctant and eventually, had her way. The women found themselves seats on the highest tier, tucked into the far corner. Others soon put themselves between the women and Stanley's view of them. In no time, the seating was packed. He tapped his pencil thoughtfully on his notepad. The reporter in him sensed some kind of story but he couldn't see how it tied in with current proceedings.
The Reuter's man had heard correctly. Mr Green did indeed call Daisy Joss. All necks craned as she walked to the witness stand. Recalled to business, Stanley scribbled, Daisy very pretty, pert girl, dark curls, fresh complexion. Then to satisfy his female readers, he added, Wearing black straw hat, boater-style, decorated with bunch of cherries.
Mr Green, smiling benevolently upon her, established her identity and her position in the household at the time of Mrs Oakley's death. 'And were you happy in your situation?' he asked. 'Was Mrs Oakley kind to you?'
Daisy said Mrs Oakley had always been very kind and she Daisy, had been very happy. Asked whether Mr Oakley had also been kind, Daisy replied firmly that she had seen very little of Mr Oakley. He was a gentleman very much taken up with his horses and his dogs. He seldom came to the nursery.
In reply to further questions, she recounted how on the fatal evening she'd been awoken, in her room next to the nursery, by shouts from the garden and had recognised Mrs Button's voice. From her window, Daisy
ANN GRANGER
saw a bobbing lantern moving towards the stables. Some minutes later Mrs Button came running back towards the house, lantern in hand; Daisy could see her clearly, what with the lantern and the moonlight. Shortly afterwards she heard hoofbeats.
Mr Green asked. "You were not tempted to go down and find out what was going on?'
'No, sir, it was not my business. Anyway, the child had woken up and was fretful. I sat with him for some time until he went off to sleep again and then I went back to bed/ Daisy paused and added with a tremor in her voice, 'I found out the next morning that Mrs Oakley had died. I was terrible shook up. She was such a nice lady.'
'And are you still employed as nursemaid at Fourways?' asked Mr Green.
'Yes, sir. I was ready to leave at first, when I heard how Mrs Oakley had burned to death. But Mr Oakley said that the child had lost his mamma and what a bad thing it would be if he were to lose the nursemaid he knew and trusted at the same time. Mr Oakley was very worried about the little boy. So I agreed to stay.'
With a sorrowful air, Mr Green remarked, 'You have heard another witness suggest you had an improper relationship with your employer.'
At this Miss Joss snapped into life and retorted, 'That's not true. It's a wicked lie. I am a respectable girl. There is no one can say I have a bad character!'
'You have heard it said in this court,' pointed out Mr Green, still in sorrow.
'Only by Mrs Button,' returned Miss Joss, 'and she is a spiteful old woman. I am walking out with a decent young man. His name is Harry Biddle and he works for Mr Salter the tobacconist in Bamford. We are to be married when he has saved some money and I am older.'
'And how old are you now?' asked Mr Green in kindly tones.
T am seventeen, sir, but my father says I am to wait till I'm twenty to be married.'
'Thank you, Miss Joss,' said Mr Green, smiling upon the dutiful daughter.
To his description of the witness, Stanley added. Clever as a cartload of monkeys.
Mr Taylor was well aware of the threat to his case posed by the virtuous Miss Joss. He rose, long and lean in his black gown, and pushed forward his head at the end of his long neck.
The bird has spotted the fish! thought Stanley who, like Inspector
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Wood, had also been struck by Taylor's resemblance to a heron.
'Now, Daisy,' said Mr Taylor in a gentle tone, 'are you a truthful girl? Do you understand what it is to swear as you have done on the Good Book? Do you know what perjury is?'
The witness informed him she was extremely truthful. She had regularly attended Sunday School, passed the scripture examination and been awarded a prayer book.
'Well, that is very nice,' said Mr Taylor deflatingly. 'How long had you been employed at Fourways when the tragedy occurred?'
'Three months or thereabouts,' said Daisy.
'Only three months? I understood you to say Mr Oakley had persuaded you to stay on the grounds that the child was used to you, yet you had only been his nursemaid for some weeks.'
'Three months is a long time in the life of a little boy, sir,' Daisy told him reproachfully. 'The child likes me. I like him. I am very fond of children.'
'When Mr Oakley asked you to stay on, did he offer to increase your wages, as a reward for your loyalty?'
'Yes, he did,' said Miss Joss. 'Because he could see I was ever so upset and ready to go home.'
'Did Mr Oakley ever tell you you were a pretty girl?' asked Mr Taylor suddenly, dropping the pretence of gentleness.
'No!' declared Miss Joss. 'Whatever next?'
Mr Taylor said, T think most of us know what usually happens next.'
'Well, he
never said anything like that!' snapped Daisy, her heart-shaped face turning a not-unattractive crimson. She gripped the edge of the stand in her gloved hands. She was very small and now appeared to be standing on tiptoe.
Stanley's gaze wandered to the public benches. From the expressions on the faces he could see, they were cheering her on. He tried to see the veiled woman, but too many people were in the way.
'He never teased you? Never stole a kiss?' demanded Mr Taylor.
'No, he never did and I think it's disgusting, what you're saying,' stormed Daisy.
Stanley looked this time at the jury. At least some of them seemed to be agreeing with her.
Mr Taylor wasn't ready to give up. 'Do you, indeed? Tell me, what do you do with your wages, Miss Joss?'
'Some I give to my mother,' said Daisy, 'and the rest I save. It's all for my bottom drawer.'
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Mr Taylor leaned forward, his long neck craning, his thin lips drawn back over his discoloured teeth. "But you spend some of it. don't you? Is it not true that one week after the death of your mistress, you went into Bamford and bought a new hat and several pairs of silk hose?'
Mr Green looked up in alarm. He needn't have worried.
'Yes.' agreed Daisy, it's like I said: I'm hoping to be married. I buy things for my bottom drawer and for my honeymoon journey. We're planning on Torquay.' Her little face crumpled unexpectedly and a sob broke in her throat. "You are making things sound as they're not. sir. I don't know why you are doing it.'
"You were also observed at church to be wearing coral earrings which had belonged to Mrs Oakley.' said Taylor, unmoved by the sob.
Miss Joss gazed at him in wide-eyed bewilderment. "Yes. sir. But I came by them honestly and am not ashamed. Mr Oakley said he knew his wife had been fond of me and he wished me to have some little memento of her. So he gave me the earrings.'
