Sweet Poison (36 page)

The Duke, Weaver and Bishop Haycraft all gave evidence of how the company had got up from table in some disarray to greet Edward and Verity when they arrived unexpectedly while the port was being drunk. The coroner, as he was supposed to do, took the view that the General might have become confused and taken a pill he thought was one of his painkillers to discover too late that it was his cyanide capsule.

Neither Verity nor Edward were called and the coroner summed up to the effect that this was a tragic accident. The General would never have committed suicide at the Duke’s dinner-table – that was patently absurd – so this could be the only conclusion any reasonable man could come to, and the jury agreed. The scribblers representing the popular press were disappointed that there was no society scandal to report and decided they had to make the best of what they had: a great imperial soldier dying at one of England’s most picturesque castles at dinner with several distinguished figures. The coroner had been able to avoid saying anything about Larmore being at the dinner – his was a name not to be mentioned in polite society – and Friedberg’s name seemed not to mean much to the journalists present who regarded all foreigners as little more than jokes.

So it was with relief they all gathered in the drive to see Lord Weaver off. Verity took the chance of discussing the terms of her assignment for the
New Gazette
with him. Edward walked off to inspect the Rolls. Its V12 engine excited Edward. Hudson, Lord Weaver’s chauffeur, was delighted to find someone almost as knowledgeable as himself about motor cars and gave Edward a guided tour of the Rolls’s intestines while Verity and Lord Weaver stood a few yards off talking earnestly.

‘Yes, my lord, it’s a beautiful car. Lady Weaver has insisted on keeping her Phantom – the Mark I – even though I have pointed out to her all the improvements they have made. Her ladyship says she finds her car extremely comfortable and quiet and since she has no wish to travel over sixty miles an hour she has no interest in a more powerful engine.’

‘Oh, Lady Weaver has the Phantom I, has she?’ said Edward. ‘I must admit I have some sympathy with her, Hudson. It’s a magnificent vehicle. Am I right in saying it has a 7.6-litre six-cylinder engine?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ said Hudson enthusiastically, ‘but look at the line of this.’ He stroked the bonnet of the gleaming Rolls as if it were a big cat.

Seeing that Verity was still deep in conversation with its owner, Edward tactfully continued to admire the great machine. He cocked his head on one side. ‘I can see what you mean, Hudson. You might think it was sitting back on its haunches as though it was going to spring on some antelope.’

Hudson looked doubtful. ‘That would be more your Lagonda you will be thinking about, my lord.’

‘Perhaps, perhaps,’ said Edward abstractedly, still watching Verity out of the corner of his eye. ‘How fast does it go? I don’t suppose Lord Weaver has allowed you to stretch it, has he?’

‘No,’ said the chauffeur regretfully, ‘but it moves so strong at sixty-five I don’t doubt it could do seventy-five if pushed.’

‘I like the body style, Hudson. Did Lord Weaver consult you at all on the choice of coach builder?’

‘Yes, my lord, his lordship was good enough to ask me to advise him. We had it built in Crewe, of course,’ said the chauffeur, becoming proprietorial, ‘and we chose the teak . . .’

At that moment Weaver and Verity came up, having finished their confabulation and Hudson touched his cap. Weaver took the cigar out of his mouth and said to Edward, ‘I see you admire my automobile, Lord Edward.’

‘Indeed, I do, Weaver,’ said the other. ‘It is quite magnificent but I shall wait a few years before I go that way. For the present I shall stick with my Lagonda.’

‘It has recovered from the –’

‘Oh yes,’ said Edward hurriedly, ‘it has been completely repaired – good as new.’ He glanced at Verity. He did not want her to have any excuse for not letting him drive her to London. ‘I thought I would telephone Amy when I get back home. There’s a show on at the Palace she might enjoy. I suppose she could manage a matinée? Where is she staying? With you and Lady Weaver?’

‘Oh no, Lord Edward, did she not tell you? She’s in New York.’

‘New York! But I only saw her a few days ago.’

‘Well, not New York yet. I guess she must still be on the
Aquitania
. A theatrical agent, Mort Gagenau, a friend of mine as a matter of fact, was over here from the States and I took him to see Amy at the Cocoanut Grove. He liked her so much – he was “nuts about her”, he said – he got her an audition for a new Gershwin show coming on Broadway in the fall. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you, but then I guess you were all over the place and maybe she wasn’t able to reach you.’

Edward, slightly dazed by the news that Amy had put the Atlantic Ocean between them, caught sight of Verity, who was having difficulty keeping her face straight.

‘Well, goodbye, Lord Edward. I hope to see you soon. You must come and lunch with me at my club.’ He turned to the Duke: ‘Goodbye, Duke. And thank you, Connie, for all your kindness. Next time I hope we will meet on a happier occasion.’

John the footman, under Hudson’s watchful eye, put the last of the luggage in the Rolls. ‘Goodbye, Joe,’ said the Duke, pressing the tycoon’s hand warmly. He had admitted to himself that over the past fortnight his feelings for the man had changed from respect to affection. They had known each other for three years; they had in fact been introduced by no less a personage than the Prince of Wales at a dinner at Fort Belvedere and they had immediately taken a liking to one another. Although the Duke had refused to believe that the General was anything but a man of honour, he had been shocked by what Weaver had told him about his old friend’s attempt to pressure him – he would not call it blackmail – and he admired Weaver for the dignified way he had dealt with the matter. The Duke had hoped to bring the two men together at Mersham but he now realized Craig was too embittered ever to have recognized in Weaver a man of honour and a potential ally. The Duke considered that his old friend’s mortal illness, the pain and loneliness he had suffered since his wife’s death, had disturbed the balance of his mind. He had admired the General ever since he had first met him before the war when he had been his brother’s superior officer. His courage and patriotism had impressed the Duke even then, long before the disaster of 1914 and his brother’s death. He had never for one moment held the General to blame for that. It was just one of the many tragedies of that appalling conflict and why he had dedicated himself to preventing another war which could only be more savage than its predecessor.

The Bishop had taken an early train as he needed to be in Worthing by midday, and now Edward and Verity, despite Connie’s urging to stay a little while longer, prepared to take their departure. The Duke shook his brother by the hand and asked him to come and see them again soon. When he came to Verity, Edward thought for one minute he was going to kiss her on the cheek but in the end decorum prevailed and he shook her hand too. Connie did kiss Verity, even though she had not fully forgiven her for the subterfuge which had brought her to the castle. She now feared that this girl was going to make her brother-in-law unhappy, but she felt she owed it to Edward to try to like her. She did admire Verity: she represented modern woman determined to make her mark in a man’s world. She admired her enterprise even if she did not altogether approve of her methods of getting what she wanted. She instinctively believed in the girl’s basic honesty. Despite the trick she had played on her, Connie was prepared to accept that Verity was well named. As for her politics, she and the Duke had discussed them and come to the conclusion that they were a young girl’s way of showing her independence and would soon change. In this belief they were quite wrong but it allowed them to make sense of the fact that someone as ‘normal’ as Verity – patently ‘one of us’ as the Duke had said, who dressed and spoke like any of the girls they met in society – was devoting herself to bringing about a revolution which would destroy everything they valued and which Verity seemed to have no hesitation in enjoying. It was a paradox but then, as Connie said to the Duke as they lay in bed that night with the lights off waiting for sleep, ‘I feel a generation older than that girl even though I’m only a few years her senior. I just don’t understand what makes her tick.’

‘Nor do I,’ said the Duke sleepily, ‘but she’s a damn fine filly all the same and Ned’s a lucky man.’

‘Don’t count his chickens for him,’ said Connie, but the Duke was already asleep.

On the way back in the car Edward could not talk to Verity about her plans – how long would she be in Spain, was she going to be with Griffiths-Jones, did she like David better than him? In fact, he doubted whether he could ever ask the latter question and he knew that if he needed to ask her, he already had his answer. So they talked of the inquest.

‘How did you think it all went, Verity?’

‘All right, I suppose. It wasn’t the truth but what is the truth?’

‘You’re bally right it wasn’t the truth. After the inquest I had a word with Jeffries. The General was murdered by someone at that dinner-party, and all my ideas and theories are complete balderdash. I am a fool, a damn fool, a very damn fool.’

‘For goodness sake, Edward, what did Jeffries tell you?’

‘There was a simple question I didn’t ask which I should have asked. Pride didn’t ask it either. There was an important fact Jeffries hid from us. He only vouchsafed this information when I talked to him after the inquest.’

‘Was this after you talked to Dr Best?’

‘Yes, and then I had a few words with that frightful fellow, Pride. He was his usual patronizing self but I got the feeling he did not really believe the General’s death was an accident. He said, with what I considered tasteless jocularity, “I trust you have not stumbled over any more dead bodies?” “No, Inspector,” I said, “and may I ask
you
if you have made any arrests? Have you penetrated the Triads yet and broken up their drugs network?” It was a silly cheap thing to say, I know, but I was riled. He said, “We are working on it. Captain Gordon has given us some useful information.” I asked if he would be charged with drug dealing. Pride said there wasn’t enough evidence.’

‘But he confessed, didn’t he?’ said Verity scandalized.

‘Yes, but Pride said he doubted that the confession would stand up in court. It had been made before he was cautioned. Anyway, I suspect they have done a deal with him. If he helps them track down the top men they won’t charge him. Not that they ever will catch the heads of the dope ring if Gordon is right, and I expect he is, that the Triads run London’s drug world. The British policeman will never penetrate their organization. How would they ever get anyone to testify against them? No chance.’

‘But you said you thought Pride did not believe the verdict was right?’

‘Yes, he was gnomic – I think that’s the word. He said, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” Then, he asked me what my theory was. I said I agreed with the coroner’s verdict and then we were interrupted by the coroner himself, who wanted to speak to Pride.’

‘So you think we are all part of a conspiracy to keep the ugly truth out of the press?’ said Verity. ‘We are all happy to have a verdict of accidental death in order that there should be no dirt flung about?’

‘Yes, a typical conspiracy among the upper classes to keep the people ignorant of the real truth about the goings-on of their superiors,’ Edward agreed sarcastically.

‘What did Dr Best say to you?’ said Verity, taking no notice.

‘Oh, he’s such a nice man. I think he suspects something. He asked after my knee and then he said, “A terrible business! Did you know, I am retiring next month? Seeing that poor man after the agony of his death shook me more than I can say and it made me aware that I am not fit to practise medicine in this brutal modern world.” He said that when he bought the practice immediately after the war Mersham was a quiet place – boring even – a typical rural community. The children had croup or measles, the old had arthritis and occasionally someone fell off their horse or had a baby – that was all. There were times, bless his heart, when I remember him complaining to us he was bored, but now look at it: death and destruction. That’s what he said to me, Verity: “I see only death and destruction.”’

‘Then you spoke to Jeffries?’

‘Yes, I saw him standing by himself looking miserable as usual so I went up to him and said, “I expect you are glad all that’s over, aren’t you, Jeffries?” “Yes, my lord,” he said gloomily. I put on my hearty voice and said, “Cheer up, man! You’re going to live with your sister and your mother, are you not?” “I was,” he replied, “but we have had words, my lord.”’

‘Words?’ Verity said.

‘That’s all he would say. I expect it was about money or maybe he just couldn’t face living in a small house with two old women. He’s a solitary soul. Anyway, I asked him if he was all right for money as tactfully as I could. “Yes, thank you, my lord,” he said. “The General made generous provision for me.” “Good!” I said as cheerfully as possible. “So you can find somewhere nice to live?” He supposed so, and then I asked him how long he could stay at Cadogan Square. He said the lawyers had given him permission to stay until the house was sold, as caretaker.’

‘So that was all right?’

‘Yes, but it was then he dropped the bombshell under my feet. He was just turning away when he said, “I thought you said, my lord, that you were going to find who had killed the master.” “What!” I said. “You heard the verdict, Jeffries: the General’s death was an accident.” “But what about the cyanide capsule then, my lord?” he said.’

‘What did he mean, Edward?’

‘That’s what I asked him. Then he told me. He said he was packing up the General’s clothes to take everything back to London when he found the cyanide capsule still in the pocket of his waistcoat, the fob.’

‘He found the cyanide
after
the General was dead?’

‘That’s right. You see it all now, don’t you, Verity? I am the biggest fool on earth. All the time I was working out my theories they were based on the wrong assumption. I am the most priceless ass, I really am. All that stuff I was telling everyone last night about the General wanting to murder someone was so much balderdash – pure bunkum. The poison belonged to someone else. The General
was
murdered and the killer is out there somewhere, probably laughing fit to burst.’