Chapter 19 #2
“Humphrey refused to see anyone else. By that point, I suspect, he was coming to grips with the fact that the books written by Sybil—Mrs. Sutherby—were selling better than his own. He was in no mood to be fussed over.”
At this point, Worrall returned in triumph, bearing two bottles, one with an outsize label.
He carried them carefully by the necks, each wrapped in a napkin to preserve fingerprints.
“Got ’em, sir. The only bottle of Angostura bitters in the house, and the only opened bottle of gin, and none emptied and thrown out last night.
” He set them on the desk and retrieved his notebook.
Daisy gladly stopped taking notes in her idiosyncratic version of Pitman’s shorthand, as she had been since he left, just in case they were needed.
“It’s unlikely you’ll find anything in the gin,” said Roger. “Humphrey wasn’t the only person drinking it. He may have been the only one to take bitters, but it’d be a bit of a risk doping the bottle.”
“It’s a long shot, Doctor,” Worrall agreed, “but we’ve got to test ’em any road. Most likely the stuff was put in his glass, don’t you think, sir?”
“Most likely. Was his after-dinner drink his first of the evening, Doctor?”
“I doubt it. One before dinner, I expect, and another with his meal. He didn’t care for wine. He was braving my disapproval, I may say. He always did when he was feeling his oats, though he did avoid alcohol while taking the nux vomica.”
The second pink gin had been at Humphrey’s place when they went into the dining room, Daisy recalled. She was itching to say so, but managed to hold her tongue. Or, on second thoughts, was that the previous evening?
“I don’t suppose you know who was sitting next to him at dinner?” Alec asked.
Roger grinned. “No, but probably your wife, Chief Inspector. Humphrey took a fancy to her. Ruby always took the other end of the table, so Sybil was probably on his other side. But if you think Sybil—”
“I don’t as yet think anything. Let’s get back to the question of prescriptions. Have you any other patients in the household?”
“Mrs. Birtwhistle, though she’s very healthy and rarely consults me. The children—Simon and Myra—I used to see occasionally before they went away to school. If they’ve had need of medical attention since, it’s been at their schools. The same goes for Monica, Mrs. Sutherby’s little girl.”
“And Mrs. Sutherby?”
“Once or twice, a few years ago, not for anything significant. If she wanted to consult me now, I’d have to advise her to find another doctor.”
“Why is that?”
“The British Medical Association frowns on close relationships between doctors and their patients.”
“You have a close relationship with Mrs. Sutherby?”
“Not at present, but I live in hope. I know the inspector was watching us talking last night, and I’ve little doubt that he drew his own conclusions and reported to you. Besides, we’ve nothing to hide.”
Alec nodded noncommittally. “Miss Birtwhistle and Mr. Norman?”
“I’ve never dealt with them professionally. It may be that they go to someone else, but they’re of a class and generation that rarely seeks medical attention until in extremis.”
“Any further questions, Inspector?”
“You’ll have covered a lot while I was gone after the bottles, sir. I’ll wait and see what you’ve got.”
“Right-oh. Thank you, Doctor, you’ve been very helpful, and that will be all for the present.
I may need your views on Birtwhistle’s relations with the rest of the household, but I know you’re a busy man, you’re free to go back to your rounds.
Please don’t leave the Matlock district without informing us of your whereabouts.
And I’d appreciate your not talking to anyone about the case. ”
“I’m going to look in on Ruby. May I tell her … it’s murder?”
“Please do. Better from you than from a stranger. Nothing beyond the fact, though.”
“And I’d like a word with Sybil.”
“By all means. Same caveat.”
They all listened to the typewriter rattling away in the next room.
“You’ll be able to tell exactly how long I’m talking to her,” Roger said ruefully.
Alec smiled. “Yes, and we wouldn’t want you to disturb her labours for too long.”
“Point taken. I’ll see you later, no doubt. I’ll be out on my rounds after I leave here, but my housekeeper will know roughly where I am if you need me.”
“Thank you.”
Roger stood up. Turning towards the connecting door, he had his back to Daisy. She wasn’t sure whether he had noticed her or not. He hadn’t greeted her, but a man in the midst of a police interrogation might be excused from observance of such courtesies.
As he stepped towards the door, Worrall said, “It’s locked, Doctor. Just to keep people out of these rooms, not to confine Mrs. Sutherby! Here, I’ll get it for you.”
He opened the door, relocking it after Roger passed through. “Quite alarmed he looked for a moment,” he observed softly to Alec. “You don’t suppose he suspects his ladyfriend?”
“No, but he’s undoubtedly aware that we suspect her. How long do you suppose it’ll be before my men and yours arrive? We need to send the bottles for analysis, and to search the house.”
“What for, sir? They’ve had plenty of time overnight to get rid of any evidence, before we even knew for sure it wasn’t a natural death.”
“Time, but sense and forethought? People do stupid things under stress, and still more often omit to do the common-sense things.
“Ah.” Worrall looked at his watch. “They’ll be here in an hour or less, I shouldn’t wonder.”
Alec thought for a moment. “Now that I’m pretty certain it’s a case of murder, not accidental ingestion, I’m going to ask you to gather everyone together in the hall and keep them there until we’ve done a thorough search.
That includes the maids. I don’t want them running about emptying wastepaper baskets.
Mrs. Birtwhistle, too, unless Dr. Knox insists on her staying in bed.
And we’ll have to have them turn out their pockets, I’m afraid, and the ladies’ handbags.
Better not warn them about that till we’re ready to do it. ”
“Er, were you going to tell me what Dr. Knox had to say, sir?”
“It might as well wait until the others arrive.” Alec looked at Daisy for the first time in half an hour. “That will give my wife time to write up her notes.”
“How do you know—? Oh, all right. I didn’t bring my portable, though. You’ll have to make do with longhand.”
“I expect Mrs. Sutherby would let you use her machine, as I’ll be asking her to step in here to answer a few questions.”
“Alec! But I wanted to—”
“I dare say, but you will be in there typing and she will be in here talking. I shouldn’t worry, I expect she’ll give you a verbatim report later.”
Daisy wanted to call him a beast, but—though she wouldn’t have hesitated in front of Tom and Ernie—that wasn’t proper language to use to a detective chief inspector in front of an officer from another force.
Worrall gave her a sympathetic grin as he went to unlock the door again. Opening it, he said, “Mrs. Sutherby, the chief inspector would like a word with you, in here, if you please.”
He stood aside, and Daisy went through. Sybil was standing up behind her desk, pale and a little flustered. She wore round-lensed eyeglasses with light-grey celluloid frames. For some reason they made her look much younger and defenceless.
The door to the passage was just closing—behind Roger, Daisy assumed.
“Sybil, may I borrow your typewriter while you’re otherwise occupied? Oh dear, I hadn’t thought. I’m afraid it’ll muck up your carbons.” Reinserting into the roller a stack of three sheets of typing paper interleaved with two sheets of carbon paper was too rarely successful to be bothered with.
“I just started a new page. I can easily copy it over.” She took off her glasses, folded them, and set them on the desk. “Wh-what does he want?”
“Just to ask a few questions. He’s not going to browbeat you, I promise.”
“Roger said Humphrey was … was murdered.”
“It certainly looks like it.” And Daisy could not conceive of any reason for Roger to invent a story that led inexorably to such a devastating conclusion.