Murder at Locke Abbey (16 page)

“Hmm,” was Copley’s only
reply.

“You think that is significant?” Cole asked.

“I do, but I can't say why yet.”

As they approached the entrance hall, they could hear Thea talking to someone
and as they rounded the corner, they found her speaking to Dr Kerridge.

“Ah,” he smiled when he saw them. “Master Cole, we were just talking about you.”

“Oh?” he couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.

“Yes, I was just telling Lady Thea that I would appreciate her opinion on your father’s ailments but of course, I would need your permission.”

“You can tell the tooth fairy if you think it can help him, Doctor.”

A smile tugged at his lips briefly and Cole though that despite a profession that filled his days with death and suffering, he was probably quite a cheerful man, when solemnity wasn’t required. 

“Why don’t we talk in the study,” Cole suggested. “Then I’ll take you to my father.”

“I have an appointment to keep with Black,” Copley interjected. “So if you’ll excuse me.”

Thea look surprised and a little hesitant but soon rallied. “Of course, Papa.”

Copley left and Cole showed Thea and Dr
Kerridge into the study. The doctor and Thea seated themselves in the wing backed, Chesterfield armchairs close to the fire but rather than bring another chai
r
over, Cole opted to stand. He offered tea but both refused.

“Perhaps you can start by telling me Mr Cole’s symptoms?” Thea suggested to the doctor.

“Yes, of course. Well it began with headaches and confusion, bouts of diarrhoea and lethargy. I wasn’t called in until a few weeks after the onset of symptoms and although there was no fever, I diagnosed an infection and recommended bed rest. The symptoms came and went after that, each time taking a greater toll and often he did not recover from one bout, before the next wave of sickness overcame him. I wondered about undulating fever but as I say, I can detect no fever.”

“For a time
his nurse took his temperature almost hourly,” Cole confirmed. “There were no great fluctuations and certainly no fever.”

“As things have progressed, have
there been any new symptoms?”

“A worsening in all symptoms, especially the confusion and lethargy. In addition, he occasionally vomits and suffers stomach pains, although that is relatively rare.”

“Has his hair thinned?” she asked.

The doctor thought for a moment. “Actually, I believe it has. Why do you ask?”

“Many illnesses present in a similar manner so the more symptoms we can identify, the easier it will be to determine the cause. Has he also lost weight?”

“He has,” Dr
Kerridge confirmed.

“To be fair, he has been eating less,” Cole asserted.

“Yes, it’s often hard to say with loss of appetite if it is a symptom of disease, or caused by it.” Thea seemed to be warming to him a little, or at least, less inclined to snub him with basic answers. “However if it is something such as gastroenteritis, I would expect a fever. Inflammatory bowel disease is possible but hard to diagnose while the patient is alive, and it doesn’t fit symptoms such as his confusion.”

“
Any ideas for what might be the cause, Lady Athena?” Dr Kerridge asked.

“A lot, unfortunately.
It could be dementia, although that term fits such a wide variety of physical and mental symptoms, as to be an almost useless diagnosis. To be frank, the disease that fits the most symptoms is syphilis.”

The doctor suddenly had a minor coughing fit but Cole was beyond being shocked by Thea now, although he did smil
e with pride at her bravery.

“
I assume you have been Mr Cole’s doctor for a long time?” she asked the doctor, ignoring his reaction.

“
Indeed,” he managed to splutter.

“And you have never treated him for the condition?”

“No.”

“Have you examined his body for lesions and rashes?”

“Uh, yes, yes I have. I found nothing, no markings on his skin at all, other than a birth mark and some freckles.”

“You are certain they were freckles
and not a rash or bruising?”

“I am.”

“I think the lack of fever is our biggest clue,” Thea mused. “There are not an awful lot of conditions that have his symptoms without also causing an infection, which would leave us with conditions such as black fever, which can cause fatigue, diarrhoea and hair loss, although it is far more common in warm countries. It’s almost always accompanied by either lesions on the skin, or ulcers in the mouth. Did you look in his mouth and throat?”

“No, I felt his tonsils but they were not enlarged or inflamed.”

“We can check for ulcers then. Another possibility is a syndrome discovered by Aretaeus, which he termed ‘Cœliac Affection’. He described symptoms such as stomach pain, muscle wastage, thinning hair, weakness and diarrhoea. The disease was liable to periodic return, which would fit what you have observed. Aretaeus believed it was a condition originating in the stomach, resulting in the malabsorption of food, and that it only affected women and the elderly. There is no treatment as such though. Jean Cruveilhier has described malignant gastric ulcers, which could cause some of these symptoms, but not the confusion or headaches.”

“Can you think of any other possibilities?”

“Only one, although it fits almost all the symptoms. Thomas Addison is currently researching a condition that causes dizziness, fatigue, diarrhoea and hair loss. He believes it is caused by disease in the suprarenal capsules, although he hasn’t published his findings yet.”

“What are s
uprarenal capsules?” Cole asked.

“They’re two
glands, one on each kidney, although their function is as yet unknown.”

“And
the treatment for this condition?” Cole asked.

“None that I know of
.”

“Would seeing him help?” Cole asked, unwill
ing to believe that his father wouldn’t recover.

“
It might.”

“I’ll try to convince him then but… well, the prognosis isn’t good.”

“Even if I am able to diagnose the condition, I can think of no disease that fits his symptoms and can be cured. I’m so sorry, Cole.”

He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder but after a moment, she turned towards the doctor, away from his hand.

“I wanted to talk to you about the two murders, I presume you signed the death certificates?”

“I did.” He nodded. “What did you want to know?”

“Would you prefer to see Mr Cole first?”

“Yes, that might be best.”

Cole blanched at the doctor’s words, feeling as if his father must truly be at death’s door for a few minutes to make any difference, especially if a cure was out of the question, as it seemed to be.

He found himself blinking back tears as he held the door open for them and Thea almost stopped, her hand half raised as if to comfort him, then she
seemed to come to her senses and hurried on.

Cole
simply had to talk to her alone and find out what had happened to turn her against him.

Thea waited outside Mr Cole’s bedroom door as Cole asked if he would agree for her to s
tay while the doctor examined him. The door was ajar but Thea kept her distance, unwilling to overhear any more unwanted news. The crash of something metallic (probably being thrown, judging by the raised voices immediately preceding it) was enough to tell her that she would not be admitted to the room.

Cole came out a minute or so later. She had backed away from the
door, clearly showing that she knew the outcome but Cole approached anyway.

She crossed her arms over her chest, a gesture that
her father had once explained to her, was defensive.

Ever since this morning, she
had felt completely out of sorts. She had expected to be able to simply cut Cole short when he tried to speak with her, she had thought she would be able to harden her heart, to use her anger at him as a barrier, but clearly this was different to any other time she had been hurt.

She found herself
exceptionally aware of him at all times and sometimes, almost forgetting her own pain in favour of offering him some comfort.

The demonstration of the psychic’s illusions had gone well but that didn’t require much brain power on her part. The discussion with the doctor had gone decidedly less well, and she was sure she was forgetting at least three conditions which could cause Mr Cole’s symptoms. She hadn’t asked as much as she should have either,
but she was unable to remember the list she had made in her head, which was most unlike her.

As Cole approached
now, she hunched her shoulders, wondering how she was going to stand to be around him until they had found the killer.

“I’m sorry, Thea, he said no.”

“He said a good deal worse than that, I’d wager.”

“Indeed.” He didn’t even smile at her joke. “I need to speak with you.”

“We are speaking now, are we not?”

“I need to speak to you in private, please.”

“I’m very busy, Master Cole, I don’t know when I shall have the time for such a discussion and-”

“I understand.” His posture stiffened. “I can take a hint. If you feel the need to tell me what I have done to offend you, I will be at your service.”

Thea kept her eyes on the floor, worried that the pain she could hear in his voice would be reflected in his expression; worried that it would further weaken her resolve.

“Why don’t you wait in the study again,” I will bring the doctor
back there when we are done.”

Thea nodded, turned and hastily walked away.

***

Thea waited for almost half an hour before the doctor and Cole returned, and she had occupied her thoughts with the questions she wanted to ask.

She was pleased when they returned, since it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the memory of Cole that kept intruding upon her thoughts, the image of him blinking back tears as he left the study earlier.

Oddly, her own eyes kept pricking and tears threatened to overwhelm her. She refused to give into them however.

She stood as they entered the room and although he was not crying, she could clearly see the misery etched on every line of Cole’s face. She had taken a step towards him before she even realised what she was doing.

“I
f you’ll excuse me,” he said and then hastily left the room.

“Doctor?”

“The prognosis is not good, my dear. His breathing is bad and his nurse informed me that there was blood, well, in his urine. He is weak and only roused himself when angered.”

“How long?”

“Hard to say with certainty. Days, certainly not much longer than a week.”

“The day I arrived, he came out to greet us. He was
very frail and stooped, but walking. How can he have deteriorated so quickly?”

She didn’t expect an answer, not really, medicine was not an exact science.

“That has been the nature of his malady, he seems to be recovering one day, then is in pain the next. The pains in his stomach and head are very bad today, the worst I’ve seen them.”

“Is there nothing to be done?”

“I gave him opium for the pain. It is not ideal but his laudanum was no longer enough, and it is surely preferable to suffering.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“But enough of that, you wanted to ask me about Mrs Garwood and Mary Potter, correct?”

“Oh, uh, yes, I did.” Her carefully compiled list of questions
seemingly deserted her. “Can you tell me about their deaths, your observations of the rooms and the bodies?”

“Yes,” he took a deep breath. “Well, Mrs Garwood seemed to have been involved in a struggle of some sort, since the room was in slight disarray.”

“Slight disarray?”

“Yes, other than the broken down door, which I was given to believe had nothing to do with her death, the room itself wasn’t
too disorganised; papers on the floor, a knocked table and broken vase, if I recall correctly. As for the body, it too showed few signs of a struggle.”

“Where there any defensive wounds?”

“No, none that I could see.”

“That you could see?”

“Bruising sometimes comes out over time, so it’s possible there were some injuries that would have showed had she lived.”

“But no cuts or scratches?”

“No.”

“Did
she…” What questions did she want to ask? “Her fingernails, was there blood under them, as if she had scratched someone else?”

“Not that I recall but if there was, it would likely have been her own, from pressing at the wound.” He mim
ed pressing on an abdominal wound. “Although in fact, there wasn’t very much blood at all.”

That was one of the questions she had meant to ask.

“I noticed there wasn’t much on the rug. And you said wound, not wounds.”

“Yes, only one stab wound. It was deep, the
paper knife was… well, only the hilt was showing.”

“And how was the body found?”

He looked confused. “I’m given to understand, by breaking the door down.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor, I meant
to say, what position was her body discovered in?”

“She had been moved
to the bed when I arrived, and was lying on her back, so I can't say with certainty. Most of the staining on her dress was to the front however, a circle perhaps this large.” He used his thumb and index finger to make a circle approximately seven inches in diameter.

“So she died quickly then?”

“Yes.”

Thea considered that for a moment. Some though
t that bloodletting aided recovery while others thought it hindered it. Either way, they agreed that the blood ceased circulating at death, so a small amount of blood meant a quick death.

Paper knives
, or as they were sometimes called, letter openers, had very dull edges and points, since they were designed to run along a fold in paper, separating it along the crease. Traditionally they were used to cut sheets into smaller pieces to save paper, which was expensive, or to better fit the length of the letter that was being sent. Modern technology was now able to efficiently produce and cut sheets of paper in differing sizes but thanks to the recent fashion for envelopes, paper knives were now often used to prevent paper cuts when opening a letter.

“
She must have been struck with some force for a blunt blade, such as a paper knife, to penetrate so deeply.”

“Indeed.”

“So to have used such force, the killer is likely a man.”

“I would say so. Also, the lack of defensive wounds might suggest that she was quickly overcome, and likely by someone far stronger than she.”

“What am I missing?” Thea asked softly.

“I wish I knew.”

“She had a cold at the time of her death, did she not, Doctor?”

“So I was told. I did not treat her for it but I was told she was taking a tincture for her cough, recommended by her own doctor. Is that important?”

“Probably not,” she admitted. “What about the housemaid, Mary?”

“Bludgeoned to death.”

“Did she have defensive injuries?”

“She did, on her left forearm, as if it had been raised to protect her head. In fact, she was struck with so much force, that the bones in her arm were broken.”

“Anything unusual about her body?”

“Nothing I can recall.”

“Did you check for the possibility that she might be with child?”

“
Not specifically, why do you ask?”

“She had dreams of a gentleman visitor to the house falling in love with her, and rescuing her from life as a maid. I wondered if perhaps someone had taken advantage
of her, or if she was trying to blackmail the father.”

“That I
can
answer. Fearing that there might have been a sexual motive for the crime, I checked and she was untouched so if someone did try to take advantage, they were not successful.”

“So that’s a ‘no’, or an immaculate conception.”

“It looks that way,” Dr Kerridge smiled.

“Can you offer any insights into these crimes, Doctor, perhaps a theory?”

“I can only explain the cause of death, I know of no motive for either killing, nor can I explain how Mrs Garwood’s murderer escaped.”

“Thank you for your time, Doctor.”

“No trouble at all. I understand that the local magistrate is also coming by today to speak with you.”

“Why?” she was taken aback.

“I told him of your help determining Mr Lanning’s cause of death. Now that we know his demise was natural, an inquest no longer needs to be held. At least, not for Mr Lanning.”

“
Well, it’s fortuitous, since I also need to speak with him.”

“Is that everything?”

“I believe so. If I have any more questions-”

“Feel free to come to me.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Kerridge
got to his feet. “Don’t trouble yourself, I’ll see myself out.”

***

Thea returned to her rooms once she had spoken to the doctor but rather than peace and quiet, she found her father waiting for her in her bedroom, sitting on the end of her bed.

“Papa? Is anything the matter?”

“I don’t know, you tell me?”

“Well other than t
wo murders, yes, everything’s fine, thank you.”

“So why are you giving Cole the cold shoulder?”

“I’m not!”

“Yes you are. This morning you were smitten, now you’ve been crying and appear to strongly dislike Cole.”

“I don’t want to talk about this; please leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what is wrong
, Thea.”

“This
is my bedroom, you can't be in here!”

“I am your father, I can be anywhere I like.”

“And what if I need to change?”

“Then I would suggest you tell me quickly.”

“Father!” she gasped. “Fine.” She began undoing the buttons on her riding habit.

“I saw you naked often in your infancy, Thea, you will not shock me into leaving.”

She ceased undressing. If he did call her bluff, she would be mortified, either by her father seeing her nude, or by having to back down from a challenge.

“Please tell me what troubles you,
my darling girl.”

Thea paused for a few long moments and finally admitted defeat. “I caught Cole in a compromising position earlier.”

“You mean you spent the night in his arms?”

Thea gasped. “How did you know about that?”

“I awoke to that dog scratching at my door and discovered you and Cole asleep on the sofa.”

“Did you try to scare Cole off?” If he had, she might have simply heard Cole moving on to someone he was allowed to court.

“No, and if waking up in his arms has upset you, then I would remind you that you are as much to blame for that as he.”

Thea huffed.

“Am I to blame for the woman he had in his rooms that morning?”

“What woman?”

“Eliza Buchan.”

“Have you considered that there might be an innocent reason for that?”

“Oh Papa, I wish I could believe that. Not only did she call him William, he told her that I was not better than she and that she was a very special lady.”

“Still, it could be a misunderstanding.”

“How on earth can I misunderstand that?”

“I have been in such a compromising position,” he said very cal
mly.

“You have!”

“Indeed. Your mother and I were investigating a theft from a hotel in Blackpool and I was discovered with a chambermaid in my arms.”