Chapter Twenty-four #2
That would account for how Dr. Penhollow came to be lying in the center of the field, yet the trail crossed the whole of it. “What about the boots he was wearing?” I asked.
“They were mine,” Isaac said. “It dawned on us once we were out there that he wasn’t wearing any, so I put mine on him and drove the cart back to the manor in my stocking feet.
Once there, I cleaned up, changed my clothes, and rode off to Swaffham, where Ada’s other daughter lives.
When I returned later in the day, I purposely rode through the village and stopped at Hadley Grange so that I would have witnesses who would say I had arrived in the village after Joshua’s death. ”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” George said, “but your story does not make you look any less guilty of Joshua Penhollow’s murder.
There is no evidence to support your claim that he is the one who poisoned the brew, with the intention of ending his life.
On the contrary, the fact that Mrs. Penhollow flew to Hadley Grange to retrieve the jug of poisoned nog indicates she was aware it was lethal. ”
“I didn’t know.” Ada held up her hands in a pleading gesture.
“Until Mrs. Hazelton asked me about what Joshua had been eating, it had never occurred to me that the poison might be in the nog. He and I had eaten the same meals, and I never became ill, but I remembered that Joshua had been tasting the nog and had thought it was done fermenting. I’m sure he drank some that night.
I never drank any, so it seemed logical that the poison had to be in the nog.
” She placed her hand to her heart as tears slipped down her cheeks.
“When I came home to find that Beatrice had given a jug of it to young Rose, I panicked.”
She turned to speak pointedly to me. “I had absolutely no idea it was poisoned until you got me thinking about what he ate,” she said. “Or in this case, drank.”
Beatrice moved to her mother’s side and embraced her. “I know you didn’t do it, Mother,” she said.
I wanted to believe her, but I could not feel so confident. Isaac and Ada’s story, while possible, was not convincing. Though they were winning my sympathy, trust was not quick to follow. Judging by the looks on George’s and Robert’s faces, they felt similarly.
While Ada quietly blotted her eyes with a handkerchief, Isaac took his seat beside her, observing all of us, particularly George and Robert, with growing unease.
“I can see how we look guilty from your point of view, but if you are saying one of Joshua’s medicines was added to the nog to poison him, how would Ada know which drug to use? Or how much to use?”
George eyed the brother- and sister-in-law. “If the doctor wanted to do away with himself, he had much better drugs to choose from.”
Isaac uttered an oath and slapped his palm on his leg. “Perhaps we were wrong in thinking Joshua took his own life, but it doesn’t mean that Ada is the one who poisoned him.”
George glanced at Robert, who turned a shade paler. “I may not know much of what a magistrate is supposed to do, but I know one thing—I am not authorized to arrest anyone.”
The silence that ensued while we all wondered how to proceed was broken by a knock at the door. Vicar Appleton left to see who it was and returned momentarily with Sergeant Hewitt, whose bulk filled the doorway as he stepped inside the drawing room.
“Well, you are a quiet, and, dare I say, healthy group.” His voice matched his person perfectly and resounded throughout the room.
“While the children sang carols at the top of their lungs, Lady Fiona whispered to me that someone had been killed.” He glanced around the room, taking us all in. “So, who is it?”
It was a relief to explain everything to the sergeant and effectively relinquish the case into his hands.
As much as he had blustered upon his arrival, he seated himself at one end of our circle and listened patiently and carefully to what each of us had to say.
When we’d finished, he ordered Beatrice and the vicar to return to their own home, since it appeared they had nothing more to contribute and likely had nothing to do with Joshua’s murder.
“Someone here must speak up for my mother,” Beatrice declared. “You can’t make me leave.”
“No? Then I suppose I shall have to take your mother down to the station and question her there. I had hoped to save her the trouble, but if I can’t make you leave …”
“We should go, my dear.” The vicar took her arm. I believe he would have dragged her from the room if she hadn’t already seen the futility of her argument. She embraced Ada, then, with tears in her eyes, took a step back. “Send word to me the moment this is resolved.”
If Beatrice expected this to be resolved that evening, she was far more optimistic than I.
Once the couple were gone, Sergeant Hewitt continued with his questions. “Where is this poisoned bottle of nog?”
“It is safely locked up at Hadley Grange,” Robert said. “You may collect it whenever you like. Dr. Bertram tested it and concluded that it was laced with phosphorus.”
“Ma’am,” Hewitt said to Ada, “do you have access to your husband’s medicines?”
She flushed. “Only in the sense that he didn’t lock them up.”
He gave her a nod. “Very good. Let’s take a look at them now, shall we?” He stood and gestured for her to join him. “And where would they be?”
“Everything should be in his bag in his old office.” Ada came to her feet, shaking and tugging at my sympathy.
“We’ve already searched for the phosphorus,” I said to the sergeant, “but if you want to look for yourself, I’ll take you there.”
Sergeant Hewitt did want to look and followed me to the small sitting room at the front of the house.
I found the bag on the floor in an otherwise empty closet.
Stepping over the mess of broken glass and nog, the sergeant placed the bag on the table and began rifling through it.
“You say there were two vials of the drug missing from the doctor’s shipment? ”
“Yes, but since at least some of it ended up in the nog, I doubt you’ll find them.”
“Then you believe they didn’t go missing,” he said, “but that someone took them.”
“Yes, I do. I think if Dr. Penhollow had received them, he would have recorded it in his journal. He was meticulous.” Something about my statement felt familiar, as if I ought to remember something, but whatever it was eluded me.
“The difficulty of someone outside Penhollow’s family killing him is that they would need access to this house and the fermenting nog,” Hewitt said. “Which reminds me, we ought to take a look at the remaining nog, too.”
He was loading vials and bottles back into the bag when he caught my look of confusion. “He wouldn’t have made just one bottle,” he said. “I’d like to find out how many of them were poisoned.”
That was something I hadn’t considered. We returned to the drawing room, where the occupants seemed to be holding their collective breath. George caught my eye, and I gave him a little shake of my head to indicate we had not found the phosphorus.
Sergeant Hewitt stopped in front of Ada. “Madam, can you tell me where your husband kept the finished bottles of nog?”
Still looking somewhat dazed, Ada gestured toward the back hallway. “He used the stillroom off the kitchen to prepare the nog. The jugs will be there. Shall I take you?”
He gestured for her to remain seated. “No need. I’m certain I can find it, though perhaps Mrs. Hazelton will accompany me again? And in case we need some analysis, will you join us, Doctor?”
Dr. Bertram and I agreed readily. For my part, it was better than standing out here, wringing my hands.
Since I was more familiar with the house, I guided the two men through the hallway to the kitchen.
I hadn’t noticed a stillroom when I was last there, but after glancing around the kitchen, I opened a door on the outer wall and was rewarded with the sight of a room about the size of a large pantry, fitted up with cupboards, the center area taken up with a worktable.
I gestured to the sergeant and the doctor, who followed me inside. We proceeded to go through the cupboards, looking for bottles while keeping an eye out for the vials of phosphorus. We found the nog first.
“Here we are,” I said after opening a lower cupboard to find five large jugs of nog, with an empty space for the one Beatrice had given to Rose. “What do we do? Open them all?”
Sergeant Hewitt was already working the cork from one of the jugs while Dr. Bertram pulled the others from storage, placing them on the table. I stepped back into the kitchen to retrieve some glasses and returned right on time for Hewitt to pour a splash from his open jug.
“How will we know if the nog is tainted?” he asked. “I’m certainly not planning to taste it.”
“There should be no need,” the doctor said as he and I studied the glass of what looked like regular nog.
“No shimmer,” I said.
“None at all.”
“Does that mean it’s all right?” Hewitt plunked the cork back into the jug.
“Let’s say it’s not immediately suspect,” Bertram said, “and set it aside for now.”
We followed the same pattern with the remaining jugs until we hit the fourth one.
“Aha!” Bertram said. “This is what the tainted nog looks like.”
Indeed, it had the same glowing sheen as the one we’d opened at Hadley Grange. The fifth jug was only nog.
Sergeant Hewitt leaned against one of the cupboards and crossed his arms. “Then only two jugs were poisoned with the phosphorus.” He glanced at me. “And you say two vials of the substance were missing from Penhollow’s order?”
Before I could confirm that, Dr. Bertram spoke up.
“If you are thinking that each of the jugs of nog contains an entire vial of phosphorus, I must correct that assumption.” He held his finger and thumb about three inches apart.
“This is the size of a vial. Each would have contained about thirty grains of phosphorus. I’d estimate one vial was split between these bottles. ”