Chapter 7 #6
Halting before the new earl and countess, Barnaby swiftly outlined their findings at Chifley’s and explained that the assistant who sold the poison was sure he would know the man who purchased the strychnine if he saw him again.
“Consequently,” Stokes said, “we would like to ask you, sir”—he dipped his head to Frederick—“if you would consent to accompany us to the shop and allow the assistant to confirm that it wasn’t you who purchased the poison.”
As Penelope had predicted, it was Imogen who tipped the scales.
She looked at Frederick’s face—at his slight frown as he considered the request—then she gripped his arm and lightly shook it.
When Frederick glanced at her, she pointedly said, “Go. It’s the quickest way to ensure our investigators here don’t have to consider you and this family any further and can focus their energies on finding the guilty party.”
Penelope promptly confirmed, “That’s the situation in a nutshell.”
Frederick had shifted his gaze to Penelope’s face. Now, he glanced again at Imogen, who nodded encouragingly, then looked at Stokes. “Very well, Inspector. I’m game.”
“Excellent.” Barnaby waved toward the front hall. “Best we get this issue cleared up so that we can move on.”
Barnaby was delegated to wait with Frederick on the pavement outside Chifley’s shop while Stokes and Penelope went inside and explained the situation to Chifley and arranged to have Joseph at the counter.
Frederick stood with his back to the window, ostensibly gazing across the street at the leafy expanse of Green Park.
Barnaby glanced through the window and saw Chifley nod agreeably to Penelope and Stokes.
Raising his hand, Chifley beckoned to someone in the rear, and in less than a minute, Joseph arrived, and Penelope turned and, seeing Barnaby watching, beckoned.
Barnaby tapped Frederick’s arm. “Come on. All you need to do is to follow me to the counter and allow the assistant to study your face.”
His jaw tightening, Frederick nodded, and Barnaby crossed to the shop door, opened it, and led the way inside.
He walked directly to the counter, and obediently, Frederick trailed him.
Approaching the counter, Barnaby smiled encouragingly at Joseph, who appeared distinctly nervous. Standing beside the younger man, Chifley waited with his hands clasped behind his back and his expression radiating intrigued curiosity.
Barnaby nodded to Chifley, then stepped to the side to stand beside Penelope, leaving Frederick to halt before the counter, directly in front of Joseph.
Stokes, standing by the counter on Frederick’s other side, asked Joseph, “Is this gentleman the man who bought a half ounce of strychnine from you last Thursday?”
The pair stared at each other, and very seriously, Joseph ran his gaze over Frederick’s figure, then focused on his face. It took only a second before Joseph’s expression eased and, turning to Stokes, Joseph confidently declared, “This gentleman is definitely not that man.”
A second of silence ensued, then Frederick turned to Stokes. “Is that it?”
Hiding a smile, Stokes nodded. “Yes. Thank you for obliging us. This will allow us to get on faster.”
Joseph had been following the exchange, a curious look on his face.
Seeing that, Penelope asked him, “Are you quite sure?”
Joseph smiled and said, “Oh, indeed. I’m doubly sure now that I’ve heard the gentleman speak.
His voice is different.” He glanced at Stokes and continued, “While the other man is very like this one in appearance, with even the same accent and manner of speech, the tone of voice is quite distinct. The other man—the one who bought the poison—had a more forceful way of speaking, and his voice was not as deep.”
Barnaby smiled. “Thank you, Joseph.”
“Indeed,” Frederick said. “Thank you, young man, for being so observant. I know it wasn’t me who came in here and bought poison, but it’s helpful to have you confirm that.”
A general round of mutual thanks ensued, and several minutes later, Barnaby and Penelope steered Frederick out of the shop. Behind them, Joseph and Chifley were beaming at each other, delighted to have played a part in a real murder investigation.
Stokes hung back. As Barnaby held the door for Penelope and Frederick, he heard Stokes tell Joseph that they might have need of him later to confirm the identity of the gentleman who had, in fact, bought the poison.
Emerging from the shop, on the pavement, Barnaby and Penelope parted from Frederick, who happily settled his hat on his head and strode off toward Hertford Street with his mind, apparently, already full of the decisions that, as the new head of the House of Moran, it fell to him to make.
Stokes came out of the shop in time to catch a glimpse of Frederick before he turned the corner and disappeared into the streets of Mayfair. “Do you think he realized?”
“I don’t believe so,” Penelope said. “He seemed to have missed the implications of Joseph’s observations entirely. Frederick was simply relieved to have been so easily cleared of all suspicion.”
Given the blanket of noise cast by passing carriages, it seemed safe enough to take a moment to confer.
“I think,” Penelope said, “the fact that the man who bought the poison pretended to be Frederick strongly suggests that the purchase wasn’t for any innocent purpose.”
“Indeed,” Stokes agreed. “And given the stashing of the poison packet in Frederick’s old room—presumably to focus our suspicions even more firmly on Frederick—then, clearly, Christopher Fitzhugh moves to the top of our list of suspects responsible for the poisoning.
None of the other Fitzhughs looks quite so like Frederick, and Christopher’s voice is, indeed, more tenor than baritone. ”
Barnaby shifted. “Yes, but why the poison? What was Christopher hoping to achieve? What was his motive and why? As long as we have no idea of the answer to those questions, any case you bring against Christopher based solely on Joseph’s testimony will end up being a matter of Christopher’s word against Joseph’s, and we know how that will play out. ”
Stokes grunted dispiritedly.
“And,” Penelope said, frowning, “demonstrating that it was Christopher who bought the poison doesn’t get us any closer to identifying who actually killed the earl.
If Christopher was behind the plot to poison his older brother, why not just let it play out?
As it would have, if, after Christopher had, we presume, put the poison in the empty decanter, someone else hadn’t killed the earl, leaving Winslow so shaken that he took a sip of the whiskey.
” She grimaced. “And no one could have predicted that.”
Barnaby stated, “I have no difficulty imagining Christopher as the one behind the poisoning, driven by some motive we’ve yet to sight, but I can’t see him somehow managing to circle behind Gordon and smash in his skull with that bust. For Christopher to be the earl’s murderer, he would’ve had to have been hiding behind the curtains in the study when Gordon entered it, but instead, we have any number of the family swearing Christopher was in the drawing room with them the entire time. ”
Stokes pulled a face. “Christopher isn’t the earl’s murderer. But he was planning to murder the earl and, instead, killed Winslow.”
After a moment, Stokes met Barnaby’s and Penelope’s gazes. “We need to get on with our interviews. Who knows? With any luck, Christopher’s motive might become clearer.”
Barnaby tilted his head. “Christopher’s motive or even the motive of whoever did, in fact, kill the earl.”