‘It sounds to me as if you’ve decided,’ said Ethel. ‘Won’t he be dreadfully upset?’
‘I don’t know. Possibly not. You never really know what they’re thinking, do you? Now you can see why I wanted to stay here until tomorrow – thank you for asking, by the way – I don’t want to be alone with him until I tell him. If only this confounded snow would clear.’
‘So that you can run away with Walter and leave it all behind? Then you’ll be pleased to know a thaw appears to have started; you can see it dripping off the eaves.’
‘Has it? What a relief! Though it may not be quite as simple as that. I think they’ve been hatching some sort of business plan. He and Alf, I mean. They were at it the last time he was here as well. It would rather put a tin lid on it, don’t you think, if we ran away together?’
‘Surely he’d have thought of that? What sort of business plan?’
‘I don’t know. It seems a bit unlikely, doesn’t it? I was never there with them and if I came into the room, they’d change the subject. I can only think of tractors, though it’s hardly a matter for secrecy. I don’t think Alf approves of them anyway. He’s quite the Luddite in some ways.’
‘Why don’t you just ask him?’
‘Oh no, I couldn’t possibly do that.’
◆◆◆
They’d all gone up to bed when Charles brusquely threw open his bedroom door. ‘I’ve told you . . . Oh, it’s you. Sorry.’
‘Who were you expecting exactly,’ enquired Ethel. ‘One of your other girlfriends?’
Looking both ways, Charles pulled her swiftly in and shut the door. ‘Keep your voice down,’ he said.
‘Ooh, you’re so masterful! What’s the matter? You look cross. I say! Get those pyjamas!’
‘What? No, listen — this is important.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’
‘I got here a few minutes ago and —’
‘I know; I saw you come up. I came to say goodnight.’
His expression softened. ‘Did you really? That’s lovely. But listen. I walked in here and found your sister, in my bed!’
Ethel giggled. ‘How perfectly ghastly for you. Wrong room?’
‘No! She was waiting for me. She invited me to join her.’
‘Join her! What was she wearing?’
‘Nowt but a smile. She threw back the covers so I could see what was on offer.’
Ethel looked incredulous. ‘But she’s only sixteen!’
‘So she might be, but she’s quite well developed. Ready to get married, as my mother would have put it.’
‘You had a good look, then?’
I couldn’t be off of doing! I told her to get out of here, and she snatched up her dressing gown and scarpered. I was terrified someone would see her. She left her slippers. I had to take them back.’
‘Glass, were they?’
‘It’s not funny, Ethel! She could get me into a lot of trouble, especially in my position.’
Ethel drew him gently to her. ‘Darling, calm down. She’s hardly going to tell anyone, is she? And they wouldn’t believe her if she did. I blame her school pals; she always seems to gravitate towards the common ones. Tell me, what would you have done if you’d found me in your bed?’
‘That’s different,’ said Charles stiffly. ‘I am but a man. You called me darling.’
‘I did, didn’t I? Don’t you think you should lock the door?’
Chapter Seven
‘Archie, come and sit down, before you drive everyone mad,’ said Helen.
‘They’re all dead anyway,’ said Archie.
‘Who are?’
‘The outlaws.’
‘I thought it was Indians,’ said Lydia.
‘That was before.’ He wandered over to the window. ‘Gosh! It’s really melting now. The man came for the milk churns this morning. I watched him load up and he said hello. He was a bit skiddy turning the lorry around but he managed it. Now it’ll go to the dairy to be bottled. Do you think some of it will end up in our shop?’
‘Not from here; it’s too far,’ smiled Helen. ‘Getting to be quite the young farmer, aren’t you?’
‘I think it’s rather interesting actually,’ said Archie. He glanced towards Alf, who was sitting on the arm of Florence’s chair. ‘Mr Brown says there’s a machine that does the milking for you, but you still have to be there while it does it so I can’t see the point really.’
‘You’d see the point if you had a couple of dozen to milk,’ smiled Alf.
‘I don’t think it’s interesting at all,’ said Lydia grumpily. ‘I don’t like cows. Or pigs. Or chickens. They’re dirty and smelly and covered in their own muck. When do we go home? I thought we were leaving today.’
‘After lunch. And I think someone got out of bed the wrong side this morning.’
‘I expect you’d rather work in your mother’s shop, wouldn’t you, Lydia,’ said Hannah amiably, ‘when you grow up?’
‘I am grown up, Grandma,’ snapped Lydia. ‘And I want to be a nurse anyway.’
‘Since when?’ said Helen, surprised.
‘I’m sorry you have to go back so soon,’ said Rosie. ‘Can no-one open the shop for you tomorrow?’
‘Yes, but it might snow again,’ said Harry, ‘and who knows how long we’d be stuck?’ Which was true enough, he thought, but mainly he wanted to be back in his own little house with his family safe around him. His feeling of foreboding had grown by the hour and it was getting him down. At the same time, he was troubled by the thought of leaving while his sisters harboured an ex-convict. Perhaps, he should have a chat with the fellow to set his mind at rest?
He was, however, too late.
‘Hello, here’s our jailbird,’ said Walter. ‘He looks cross.’
The front door crashed open and before they could stop him, Albert had marched into the room with Alison in hot pursuit.
‘Albert, no!’ she cried. ‘It won’t help.’
‘You,’ he told Hannah, ‘are an evil, wicked old cat!’ He turned to the rest of them. ‘Do you know what this woman’s done to us? Shall I tell you? She’s ruined our lives, that’s what! And we can never get them back!’
◆◆◆
After breakfast, Ethel and Charles had opted to remain in the dining room, warming themselves as best they could before the banked-up fire. It’s all pretty dreadful, isn’t it?’ sighed Ethel. ‘What with Albert and Grandma, and Florence wanting to jilt poor Alf, and Lydia trying to seduce you. I’m almost afraid to speak to anyone in case I put my foot in it.’
‘Never mind,’ smiled Charles, holding her close. ‘Nearly over now. In years to come we’ll probably look back and laugh about this Christmas.’
‘In years to come?’
‘You and me, in years to come. Don’t you think so?’
‘Yes, we probably shall,’ agreed Ethel happily. ‘You and me.’ She reached up to kiss him. ‘I love you, Charles Bartlett.’
‘I love you too.’
Suddenly she stiffened. ‘Oh, my goodness! What on earth is it now?’
Harry appeared. ‘Charles, come quick! My mother is having some sort of fit.’
They found that Delia and Beatrice had come in from the kitchen and Rosie was loosening Hannah’s clothing. She was lying almost supine in her fireside chair, her back horribly arched and her pupils dilated. She seemed to be struggling for breath. Helen had whisked Archie away, and the others were standing helplessly around her.
‘Is she dying?’ whispered Lydia, wide-eyed.
‘Hush,’ said Beatrice, ‘of course not.’
‘Oh, Albert, what have you done?’ cried Alison despairingly.
‘I only told her what I thought of her,’ said Albert, bewildered. ‘I didn’t even shout.’
‘Can someone fetch my bag from my room?’ said Charles
. ‘The black Gladstone.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Lydia. They could hear her pounding up the stairs.
Frowning, Charles contemplated the stricken old woman. He attempted to take her pulse but the mere act seemed somehow to make her symptoms worse. ‘I don’t care for this,’ he said. ‘If I didn’t know better . . . Mrs Falkner, can you hear me? When did you last eat something?’ He picked up a box of chocolates. ‘Did you have one of these?’
Alf Brown’s normally florid face was the colour of putty. ‘We both did,’ he said. ‘She offered me one and had one herself.’
‘When?’
‘Maybe twenty minutes ago.’
‘Right, go and drink water, lots of it. Don’t be tempted to make yourself sick. One of you go with him.’
‘Come on,’ said Walter.
‘Bag,’ said Lydia, returning with it.
‘Thanks,’ said Charles. ‘Anyone else eaten a chocolate?’
They all looked frightened but no-one spoke up.
‘What on earth is it?’ said Beatrice. ‘Do you know?’
Charles beckoned the sisters into the kitchen, Ethel following. ‘Do you ever use rat poison — strychnine?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Rosie, ‘this is a farmhouse. We’d be overrun if we didn’t. You don’t think —’
‘I don’t know what to think. I’ve never actually witnessed strychnine poisoning but it certainly looks like it. Is there a doctor in the village?’
‘Why yes, Dr Absalom, but —’
‘How old is he?’
‘About sixty, I suppose.’
‘Good, then he might be familiar with it. Will there be someone at home if he’s out?’
‘Yes, his wife should be, unless they’re both visiting. Someone will know where he is.’
He hurried back to the parlour. ‘Florence, I don’t want Alf to leave the house for the time being. Can you ride down to Dr Absalom and give him this?’ He scribbled on his notepad. ‘Tell him I’m a junior doctor and desperately need his opinion. If he’s not there and his wife is, ask her if she can find this in his dispensary. It may help.’ He turned to the others. ‘I’m not entirely sure but I think she may have been poisoned. If I’m wrong, I apologise for alarming you but in the meantime it’s essential that we don’t eat anything that could be suspicious. Certainly not chocolates. Has anyone seen the gift tag off this box?’
◆◆◆
In the event it was Walter who took Florence to the village, the Daimler tyre-deep in slush and meltwater, returning only minutes later with the stout, dependable-looking Dr Absalom. One glance at his patient was enough and he turned with urgency to Charles.
‘I think you are right. We must put her somewhere dark and quiet. All stimulation must be avoided. Mrs Falkner, I am going to put you to bed and give you a draught to take. You must try to remain calm; it will help to reduce the convulsions.’
‘We’ve got her sleeping downstairs at the moment,’ said Rosie. ‘I’ll show you the room.’
‘Good, that’ll make things easier. And I’d welcome a cup of tea.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Perhaps no sugar. First, though, we must examine Mr Brown.’
But Alf presented no symptoms whatsoever. As for Hanna, there was nothing more to be done beyond getting the neutralising draught down her; after which they took turns at sitting in vigil by her bedside.
‘What are her chances, Doctor?’ asked Harry.
Doctor Absalom pursed his lips. ‘Much will depend on the dose and on her general state of health, which I know to be excellent for her age. The longer the patient lives in these cases the better the prognosis. If she’s still with us by breakfast time the chances are good that she will recover. However, you must prepare yourself for the worst.’
But at three in the morning, Charles called his colleague from his slumbers by the fire. ‘I want you to hear this,’ he said.
‘It was that Alf Brown,’ gasped Hannah, and promptly expired.
Chapter Eight
‘Thank you, Amy,’ said Detective Chief Inspector Felix, accepting a cup of tea. ‘I’d better wish you a happy new year, since I don’t suppose we’ll be back by then.’
‘We’ll miss you, sir,’ smiled Amy, taking away the empties.
‘She never says that to me,’ grumbled Chief Superintendent Polly, observing her retreating figure. ‘You’re expecting this to take a while?’
‘It could do. Poisonings are tricky, I find. You can never even be sure the deceased was the intended victim.’
‘Not to mention the possibility of there being some maniac at large, which God forbid.’
‘Yes, there’s always that. Who is the local man?’
‘Inspector Bill Woodruff. He sounds all right. He’s in Cornwall for Christmas, unfortunately. They’ve still got the snow there and he’s stuck for the moment. He says he’ll try to get back if you need him but it seems a bit of an imposition under the circumstances. He doesn’t know the family, or even the village very well – it’s a peaceful place apparently and there’s never been any serious trouble there – so I said not to bother unless he feels he should. The village constable is a Jim Peterson, twenty-eight. He sounds all right too, not one of your hayseeds, and seems to have taken the thing in hand quite efficiently. If it’s a question of background he’ll probably be more use to you than the Inspector anyway, and you can use him or not. Usual thing. However, we’ve done a bit of work for you.’ Here he pushed forward a stapled report. ‘We know it was a box of chocolates found next to her: Pride and Taylor’s Luxury Selection. Here’s a photo of it. This lot comes from the forensic chaps, of course, earning their keep for once. The boxes remaining in the village shop hadn’t been tampered with, thank goodness; although that doesn’t rule it out as the source, of course. Most of that order had been sold but they managed to track them all down. No fatalities or funny symptoms.’
‘That must have taken some doing. Any dabs?’
‘It’s all in the report. There was a Dr Bartlett staying with them, a family member. He scooped up all the chocolates in the house, including the fatal box, labelled them as to where they were found and who had received them and handed them over to Peterson.’
Felix pulled a face. ‘Not what I’d have wanted ideally. How many were there?’
‘I knew you’d say that, and I agree, but I daresay he meant well. There are children staying there, for one thing. There were actually six boxes altogether. They were all over the place apparently. It’s a nice, easy gift, isn’t it? I bought some myself.’
‘So did I. Has he any theories, the doctor?’
‘Shouldn’t be surprised, but he wouldn’t commit himself. Awkward when it’s relatives. That’s where your problems begin, of course. Most of the people there over Christmas were family, some resident, some visiting. There were only three outsiders, that we know of. The fellow whom Mrs Falkner accused of poisoning her is a Mr Alf Brown, a neighbouring farmer. He’d stayed overnight with them, together with his fiancée, Mrs Florence Gray. There was also an Albert Little, a milkman from Croydon, a friend of one of the daughters. Little has a record but, typically, they’ve lost the details. I’ll get back to you on that.’
‘What about Brown?’
‘Unlikely, in Peterson’s view. Middle-aged, respectable, pillar of the community and all that, and she’s a solicitor’s widow in her thirties. He’ll need a hard look though.’
‘What about servants and farm workers?’
‘No servants, and they only have one employee, Jeremy Bates, sixty-two. He lives in a tied cottage and has been ill for a while, so he’s probably out of it.’
‘All still there?’
‘As far as I know, but they’re getting restless. One has a shop to get back to, another a car dealership, and the doctor has used up his leave. You’d best be on your way. How’s the family?’
‘They’
re very well, thanks. Pleased to have me for Christmas for once.’
‘Lucky for some,’ said Polly.
◆◆◆
‘Impressive,’ said Detective Sergeant Nash, the team’s photographer. ‘I must get a picture of that.’ He was referring to Arnold’s farmhouse on the hillside above them, looking bleakly romantic in its setting of rolling hills. Patches of snow lay here and there.
‘Georgian, I suppose,’ said Detective Sergeant Rattigan, who had briefly stopped the car.
‘The façade anyway,’ agreed Felix. ‘Big place too.’
‘Needs some trees,’ declared Detective Sergeant Yardley, unimpressed. ‘Is that more snow, do you think, up on the skyline?’
‘Might well be,’ said Felix. ‘Craddock said they had a foot of it here.’
He was referring to the landlord of Arnoldswell’s sole hostelry, the Sheep’s Head, where they’d booked rooms. ‘It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good,’ he’d said, cheerfully polishing glasses. ‘Best have your meals with us, eh? Guaranteed no poison. Unless the missus takes against you of course.’
‘Not grief stricken, Mr Craddock?’ enquired Felix.
Craddock pulled a face. ‘Miserable old bat. She’d curdle milk just looking at it.’
‘Awkward in a farmer. What about the rest of the family?’
‘The daughters are all right. Not that they ever come in here. Difficult, I suppose, without a man. We see them in church, of course, and Beatrice is friendly with Alice. Jerry Bates is a regular, though I haven’t seen him lately either. Someone said he was poorly. Give him my regards, will you?’
They bumped their way up the typically ill-maintained farm track, any remedial work appearing restricted to a few cinders in the potholes, and parked on a rare horizontal patch of ground in front of the house. The entrance to the farmyard, at which they again paused, was immediately adjacent to it. It looked tidy and businesslike, as far as one could tell.
As they got out, there was a storm of honking from some geese, echoed farther off by the barking of dogs.
Death Among the Kisses (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 10) Page 5
