Sweet Poison (10 page)

‘I’m afraid he is, Jeffries.’

‘Can I see him, my lord?’

‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible until the doctor has examined him.’

‘How did he die, sir? Please can you tell me that?’

This put Edward in rather a difficult position. He did not want to lie to the little man and in any case he would have to know the truth very soon.

‘I’m afraid the General had some sort of a fit and collapsed while he was drinking his port,’ he compromised.

‘Ah yes. I was expecting it,’ said Jeffries.

‘What do you mean?’ Edward said, amazed.

‘The General has not been well for some months, my lord. He would not say anything much to me but I could see.’

‘You could see?’ queried Edward.

‘He was getting very thin – almost like a skeleton, if you’ll excuse me saying so, my lord – and I could see he was often in pain.’

‘Had he been to the doctor?’

‘He had been to a doctor – Dr Cradel, my lord – but he would say to me that doctors were all fools, my lord, and the last time he went he said he was never going again.’

‘When was that, Jeffries?’

‘Last week, sir, last Wednesday.’

‘Did you know if he was taking anything?’

‘Taking anything, my lord?’ said the little man, alarmed.

‘Medicine – do you know if he was taking any pill or anything like that?’

‘The doctor had given him pills, my lord. I think they were just to dull the pain but he said to me that they were no good, sir.’

‘Do you know if he was in pain all the time, Jeffries, or did he have attacks?’

‘He was in pain all the time, my lord. Even when he was asleep I used to hear him groaning, but I think some times were worse than others.’

‘Mmm,’ said Edward thoughtfully. ‘Well, I am sorry about this, Jeffries. It must be very hard for you.’

‘Indeed it is, my lord. Twenty-six years is a good long time.’

‘Have you anywhere to go?’

‘Now, my lord?’

‘Well, not immediately, of course, but presumably after the funeral . . .’ Edward wondered how to put it, ‘there will be nothing for you to do.’

‘Oh yes, my lord. The General was very good. He bought my old mother a house in Hove – that’s in Sussex, my lord, on the coast. She has been wanting me to come and live with her for some time. My sister lives with her and I think she would be glad of the company too.’

‘I see,’ said Edward, suppressing his amazement that anyone as fossilized as Jeffries could possibly have a mother living anywhere, let alone in Hove. ‘Well, that’s all right, then.’ He thought how sad some people’s lives were – looking after an old widower and then with nothing left to do but go and look after an old mother. But his view of things was immediately contradicted by Jeffries as if he had read his thoughts.

‘I have been very happy, sir, with the General. I was his batman in the war. He was a great man.’

‘His wife died a few months ago, didn’t she? I met her once or twice when the General came to dinner here. She was a delightful woman. They seemed to be very happy together.’

‘Oh yes, sir. It was the saddest day in our lives when Lady Dorothy died.’

Edward was touched that the man identified himself so closely with his master. ‘How did she die?’ he inquired gently.

‘Cancer, my lord, so they said. A year ago it was – almost to the day. The General was very sad. He was never the same again, sir. I thought he would not live very long after . . . after her. He was . . . they were a lovely couple, sir,’ said Jeffries patting his eyes with his handkerchief.

It was salutary, Edward thought, to discover that this dry old soldier, who seemed so crusty, so unlovable, had loved so fiercely and had in turn been loved by two people at least. ‘As far as you know, Jeffries,’ he said at last, ‘did the General have any family – brothers or sisters? There were no children, I believe.’

‘No, my lord, no children. It was their one great sadness. I think there is a cousin in Edinburgh the General sees . . . saw every now and again but no close relations.’

‘I see. Well, you have been most helpful and I am very sorry for you, losing such a good master. You must feel free to stay at Mersham as long as you wish. I am afraid there will almost certainly have to be an inquest before the body can be buried. Do you think you could find out the name and address of the General’s cousin or his solicitor – oh, and also his doctor’s address? We will need to consult . . . did you say he was called Dr Cradel?’

‘Yes, sir. But why does there have to be an inquest?’

Jeffries sounded almost insulted, as if his care of the old man had been called into question.

‘Oh,’ said Edward vaguely, ‘it is usual when death comes rather suddenly, you know.’ Then he added, wanting to prepare the man for what might come, ‘It is possible that the General might have taken the wrong medicine. I must not say anything which might mislead you. I am, as you know, not a medical man, but the General . . . well, he had some sort of fit and it might just have been his illness but . . . well, it was quite violent.’

‘I see, my lord,’ said Jeffries but he obviously did not.

Edward patted the man on the back in sympathy and at that moment the Duke burst into the room. ‘Oh, there you are, Ned. I have been looking for you.’ He eyed Jeffries suspiciously.

‘This is Jeffries, General Craig’s man, you know.’

‘Ah,’ said the Duke, distractedly, dismissing Jeffries from his mind.

‘Will that be all, my lord?’ the little man said, seeing that the Duke wanted to talk to his brother alone.

‘Yes, thank you, Jeffries. I will talk to you again tomorrow and I expect the police may want to talk to you. Nothing to be alarmed about,’ he added, seeing his face fall. ‘They will just want to confirm what you have already told me, I expect.’

Jeffries disappeared and the Duke broke into excited talk. ‘I spoke to Philips – got him out of bed, in fact. He’s coming round now. He’s picking up one of his inspectors on the way. I told him who else was at the castle and he saw at once how important it is to keep the whole thing quiet. He says we are not to touch the body and I said you had locked up the dining-room. I think we can get all this out of the way without the papers reporting anything other than that General Craig was taken ill at dinner and died. By the way, I also rang old Dr Best and he is coming too.’

‘Jeffries – the man I have just been talking to, the General’s valet – says that the General has been very unwell recently. I don’t think you noticed, Gerald, but he has a pill box clasped in his right hand. I think he must have been taking some sort of pill when he died.’

‘You mean you don’t think it was poison?’ said the Duke, his face clearing.

‘I don’t know what to think,’ Edward replied slowly. ‘Let’s see what the doctor says. That may be him now. Look, Gerald, why don’t I join the others in the drawing-room and tell them what is happening while you take the doctor in to see the body, though make sure he doesn’t move it before the police arrive. Here’s the key to the dining-room.’

Bates came in and said: ‘Dr Best is here, your Grace.’

Dr Best was in his seventieth year, silver-haired and slightly stooped but by no means senile. He looked at the Duke with bright black eyes, like a robin’s, and there was something birdlike in the way he walked. As Bates helped the doctor off with his coat, the Duke again apologized for getting him out of bed. ‘Don’t apologize, your Grace. What else could you do? The General’s dead, is he?’

‘Yes. He had some kind of fit when he was drinking his port.’ There was a noise of crunching gravel. ‘Ah, here’s the Chief Constable.’

Colonel Philips was very much the military man – alert, assertive and eager to take charge of the situation. The Duke usually found him tiresomely hearty but on this occasion he welcomed his bluff no-nonsense approach. The Chief Constable shook the hand of the doctor, whom he knew well, and then introduced a tall, lean, grey-haired man smartly attired in a suit and tie despite the lateness of the hour.

‘May I introduce Inspector Pride of Scotland Yard, an old friend of mine – or rather, not as old as me but I’ve known him a very long time – proud to know him, don’t you know, what?’ Inspector Pride smiled thinly and shook the Duke’s hand. ‘He happened to be stayin’ with me so I thought I’d bring him along. You never know,’ the Colonel continued vaguely. ‘Sudden death of a distinguished soldier. Need to be seen to have done it all by the book – mustn’t miss anything, what?’

The Duke led the way to the dining-room and struggled to turn the key in the lock. ‘Don’t normally lock this door,’ said the Duke apologetically. ‘In fact I never knew it had a key.’

‘Did
you
lock the door, Duke?’ asked Pride. The man, though perfectly polite, had an edge to his voice which implied he was dealing with old fools; this ruffled the Duke’s feathers. He wondered just what the relationship was between the Chief Constable and this cold fish of a London policeman. They did not look as if they would be natural friends. ‘No, no, it was my brother – my younger brother – Edward who locked the door. He was insistent we left everything untouched for you to examine.’

‘Quite right,’ said the Chief Constable. ‘So Edward’s here, is he? Came for dinner?’

‘He was supposed to but his car broke down and he only arrived a few minutes ago – just before General Craig . . . before . . . oh, poor man, poor man.’

While they had been talking the Duke had opened the door and they had gone over to the body. Dr Best had gently lifted the cloth off the corpse and revealed the horribly distorted face of the man who had so recently been eating and drinking at the Duke’s table. To each of the four men the visible evidence of the great pain the General had suffered in death was shocking and unforgettable. A heart attack could not have left its mark so savagely. Dr Best was the first to speak. ‘The General has died of poisoning. It looks to me like cyanide but the post-mortem will confirm it.’

‘That’s what my brother said.’

Pride, kneeling beside the dead man, looked up at the Duke. ‘Your brother? Is he a doctor?’

‘Oh no!’ said the Duke. ‘But he was sure it was poison.’

‘Where is he now?’ Pride said, his flat, inexpressive way of speaking making the Duke shiver.

‘He is in the drawing-room with my wife and my guests. I really ought to go and see them. They will want to go to their beds.’

Pride said, ‘Is everyone here who was at dinner?’

‘Everyone except Baron von Friedberg. He insisted on going.’

‘Who is Baron von Friedberg?’

The Duke thought there was something insolent about the way the Inspector spoke to him but he felt at a disadvantage, as if he had committed some solecism letting one of his guests be poisoned at his table, so he dared not get on his high horse and tell the man off. The Chief Constable was looking uneasy.

‘Von Friedberg is an official at the German embassy,’ the Duke said with as much dignity as he could muster. He had taken an instinctive decision not to reveal to Pride the German’s importance.

‘I see,’ said Pride icily. ‘No one ought to have left the house before the Chief Constable gave his permission.’ The Chief Constable tried to look important but it was evident to the Duke that Pride meant until
he
had given
his
permission.

‘I don’t suppose you were able to stop him,’ said Colonel Philips fruitily, trying to take the sting out of Pride’s words.

‘No, I wasn’t,’ said the Duke shortly. ‘And I don’t think I can keep my other guests out of their beds much longer.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s twelve o’clock.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said the Chief Constable hurriedly. ‘Pride, I suggest we have a word with the gentlemen now but let the ladies go to their beds. We can talk to them in the morning.’

Pride looked dubious but since he had no official standing in the house he could only grunt his agreement.

‘Your Grace, may I use your telephone?’ Dr Best inquired. ‘I must send for an ambulance to take away the body. I can do the post-mortem tomorrow.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said the Duke, relieved to have an excuse for leaving the room. ‘And I will tell the ladies that they can go to their rooms?’

‘Yes,’ said Colonel Philips, ‘and say to the others, we – I mean Inspector Pride and myself – will come and take brief statements in a few minutes and then they too can go to bed. I don’t think there is much we can do until the morning.’

The Duke turned to go. ‘What do you think happened?’ he said to the doctor, his voice almost breaking. ‘I still don’t understand. I mean, it wasn’t the food. We all had the same food and drank the same wine.’

Dr Best put a sympathetic hand on the Duke’s shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry, Duke. This must be terrible for you and you need not worry that anything you gave the General caused his death. I cannot be absolutely sure until tomorrow when I do the post-mortem but in my own mind I am sure that the General must have taken poison.’

‘That’s what Ned said,’ reiterated the Duke, puzzled, ‘but why should he do it here at dinner?’

‘We don’t know, Duke,’ said Colonel Philips sombrely, ‘but we will find out. Perhaps he took the wrong pill.’

‘That reminds me,’ said the Duke, ‘my brother said he had noticed that there was a silver box in the General’s hand.’

Inspector Pride knelt again by the corpse and examined the hands of the dead man. He grunted, annoyed to have missed seeing the box when he had first looked at the body. Shaking his head, the Duke left the two policemen to their gruesome job. He escorted Dr Best into the hall to use the telephone and then braced himself to face his guests. He wondered if ever again he would be able to eat in the dining-room without feeling sick to the stomach. ‘What a terrible thing, what a terrible thing,’ he muttered to himself. What was he to say to his guests? How could he apologize for involving them in this nightmare?

In the dining-room Pride had prised the pill box out of the General’s hand. He had tried not to leave his fingerprints on it by using one of the napkins from the table, but since there could not be any fingerprints on the box except the General’s he did not trouble too much. He carefully opened the box and showed it to Colonel Philips. It contained five brownish pills. Pride sniffed at them but the only aroma was a musty smell that he guessed must be the snuff which the box had once contained.