Behold Here's Poison (3 page)

'The duck!' exclaimed Miss Matthews. 'I knew it!'


'Yes, dear,' said Mrs Matthews comfortingly. 'I thought at the time that it was a little unwise of you to have ordered duck, but I make it a rule never to interfere in your province. If only one could have foreseen the result!'


'What did your brother eat for dinner last night?' asked the doctor.


'Roast duck,' answered Miss Matthews, miserably. 'It never did agree with him, and there were two beautiful lamb cutlets which he wouldn't touch. I can't bear to think of them.'


'I am afraid,' said Mrs Matthews, recapturing the doctor's attention, 'that last night's dinner was not very suitable for anyone with a delicate digestion. There was a lobster cocktail for one thing—'


'Oh, but uncle didn't have that!' objected Stella. 'He took about one mouthful, and said it wasn't fit for human consumption.'


'Darling child, please don't interrupt!' said her mother. 'And soles with rather a rich sauce, doctor, and a cheese savoury, which I always consider most indigestible.'


'It sounds to me exactly the sort of ill-chosen meal I should expect you to order, Harriet,' said Mrs Lupton severely, 'but I have yet to learn that Gregory had anything wrong with his digestion. My own impression is that there is a great deal more in this than meets the eye, and I insist on seeing my brother's corpse immediately.'


Mrs Matthews winced, and closed her eyes. 'Please!' she said faintly. 'Not that terrible word, Gertrude!'


'I have no patience with that kind of sentimentality,' said Mrs Lupton. 'I believe in calling things by their proper names, and if you can tell me that my unfortunate brother is not a corpse I shall be very grateful to you. Henry, I am going up to Gregory's room. You had better come with me.'


Henry Lupton, who had up till now remained discreetly in the background, said: 'Yes, my dear, of course!' and with a deprecating look in Dr Fielding's direction, started forward to follow his wife up the stairs.


No one said anything until the Luptons were out of earshot. Dr Fielding was looking at Stella with a rueful smile; Mrs Matthews had sunk into a chair, and was wearing a resigned expression. Harriet, whose lips had been moving in silent communion with herself, suddenly said with strong indignation: 'I shall never forgive her, never! I have been ordering meals for Gregory for years! None of the others killed him, so why should this one? Tell me that!'


'Ah, Harriet!' said Mrs Matthews, mournfully shaking her head.


'And don't say Ah, Harriet to me!' snapped Miss Matthews. 'If anyone killed him it was you, with all the worry and disturbance about Guy—and about Stella too, now I come to think of it!'


'Oh, Deryk!' murmured Stella, 'we're a dreadful family!'


Their fingers met and clasped for a brief moment.


'I wish you wouldn't all talk such rot!' suddenly ejaculated Guy from the dining-room doorway. 'It's obvious what uncle died of! Nobody killed him!'


'If anyone mentions the word duck again, I rather think I shall scream,' said Stella.


The sound of a door being shut upstairs warned them of Mrs Lupton's return. She came down the stairs with her lips tightly compressed, and she did not say anything at all until she reached the hall. Then she drew a hissing breath, and said with strong feeling: 'Terrible! I am inexpressibly shocked by what I have seen. My poor brother!'


'Yes, indeed,' said Henry Lupton, who was looking unhappier than ever. 'Terrible, terrible!'


'That will do, Henry. Talking will not mend matters,' said his wife. She bent her hard stare on the doctor. 'Do I understand that you are prepared to sign a death certificate?'


He looked frowningly back at her, a hint of uneasiness in his eyes. 'As a medical man—'


'Medical fiddlesticks!' said Mrs Lupton. 'I insist upon another's opinion being called in!'


A startled silence fell. It was broken by Mrs Matthews. Her voice jarred a little, though she still spoke in her dulcet way. 'Dear Gertrude, you are upset, and no wonder. I am sure you don't mean to hurt anyone's feelings.'


'I am unconcerned with anyone's sensibilities,' said Mrs Lupton. 'I repeat, I insist upon a second opinion.'


'Perhaps,' said Dr Fielding, looking her in the eye, 'you would like me to notify the Coroner of your brother's death?'


'Yes,' said Mrs Lupton. 'That is precisely what I should like, Dr Fielding!'

Chapter Two

No one spoke for a minute. The implication of Mrs Lupton's words could not be misunderstood, but it took time for her meaning to be fully realised. Everyone stared at her a little blankly, except the doctor, who stood looking down, still frowning, at the table's polished surface.

Harriet was the first to break into agitated speech. 'You may just as well say at once that you think I poisoned him, and I'm astonished that you don't! And as for housekeeping, you may think you are much better at it than I am, but all I can say is I should be ashamed of the waste that goes on in your house! And if you think I gave Gregory duck on purpose to kill him there are the cutlets to prove I didn't!'

'No, there aren't,' said Stella unsteadily. 'Eaten in the kitchen.'

Mrs Matthews took a cigarette-case out of her handbag, and with trembling fingers selected a cigarette, and lit it. 'Stella! Please!'

Guy came forward a few paces. 'Do you mean you want a p—post-mortem?' he demanded. 'It's absolute rot! And I must say I should like to know what right you have to waltz in and interfere! Now uncle's dead I'm the head of this house, and—'

'No, my dear Guy, you are not,' said his aunt, quite unruffled. 'I have little doubt that you would like to think yourself the head of the family, and I am well aware of the machinations of you and your mother to induce your uncle to name you his heir. What I am not aware of is that he ever did so. That being so it is my duty to remind you that the head of this family is now your cousin Randall.'

Guy flushed angrily. 'Anyway, you're not the head, and you've no right—'

'If Randall is going to be dragged into this I shall remove myself at once,' said Stella disgustedly. 'I can put up with a good deal, but not with Randall. What's more, if anyone poisoned uncle I should think it was he.'

'That,' said Mrs Lupton, 'is a foolish remark which you will, I trust, regret having made once you have given yourself time to consider. I hold no brief for Randall. Far from it. But to accuse him of poisoning your uncle is absurd. Randall has not been down to Grinley Heath since last Sunday.'

'Are we not all of us a trifle overwrought?' interposed Mrs Matthews smoothly. 'Surely no one seriously thinks that poor Gregory died from anything but the results of acute indigestion? If there were the slightest reason for suspecting foul play I should be the first to demand a thorough investigation. But I am sure no one can have wanted his death, and really, Gertrude, when one considers the unpleasantness of—of inquests, and things—'

'I hope I am not one to shrink from unpleasantness,' said Mrs Lupton. 'And when you say that you are sure no one can have wanted Gregory's death I must beg to differ from you. Please understand that I make no accusations! But I am not ignorant of the dissensions in this household, and I cannot but see, painful though the thought may be, that his death benefits several people.'

Her husband entered unexpectedly into the discussion. He gave a little cough, and said nervously: 'Really, my dear, I think we should be guided by what the doctor says. You don't want to start any sort of scandal, do you? You would very much dislike to be dragged into—er—that kind of publicity, you know.'

'Kindly permit me to know my own mind, Henry,' said Mrs Lupton freezingly. 'You and I at least can have no reason to fear an investigation.'

Henry looked rather frightened, and said: 'No, my dear, of course not, but hadn't we better think it over before we act?'

'Deryk, you don't think he was poisoned, do you?' asked Stella anxiously.

Fielding gave her a brief smile. 'No, I don't. At the same time, if Mrs Lupton feels there is room for doubt I should naturally prefer that there should be a post-mortem examination.' He glanced at Mrs Lupton as he spoke, and added: 'As far as I am concerned there is no objection to the matter being put into the hands of the Coroner.'

'Well, I think there's every objection!' said Guy angrily. 'Everyone but Aunt Gertrude is perfectly satisfied with your diagnosis, and I utterly fail to see what point there is in having uncle cut up, and a lot of family linen washed in public! Of course he wasn't poisoned, but the instant we have an autopsy and an inquest people will start talking, and say there's no smoke without a fire, and life will be pure hell!'

'I must say, that is perfectly true,' agreed his mother. 'And one cannot help wondering whether it is quite what poor Gregory would have liked.'

'It isn't,' said Miss Matthews positively. 'He said he wasn't going to have anything more to do with doctors. And it isn't what I like either, though no one considers my feelings in this house, or ever has! I know what it will be. We shall all have to answer questions which have nothing to do with the case, and after all no one could possibly live with Gregory without quarrelling with him. And for my part I shall tell them quite frankly that it was Gertrude who always quarrelled most with him in the nursery, which is perfectly true, as poor Hubert and Arthur would bear me out if only they were alive to hear me!' This chance reference to her two deceased brothers caused her to burst into tears again. She brought out a large handkerchief from her pocket, and sniffed into it, saying: 'If only I had a Man to turn to! But my brothers are all dead, and even Mr Rumbold's away, and you can put upon me as much as you choose!'

'Don't be ridiculous, Harriet!' commanded her sister. 'No one suspects you of having anything to do with it.'

'That's what you say!' retorted Miss Matthews. 'But I haven't the least doubt they'll bring it home to the duck, and not believe a word about the cutlets! And if they don't say it's the duck you may depend upon it they'll fix upon poor Guy, because his uncle was going to send him to South America, which was just like Gregory, and if Guy had killed him there would have been some excuse.

And so I shall tell them! Guy's the only one of you who has any affection for his poor old aunt, and it's my belief you're behaving like this out of pure spite, Gertrude!'

After delivering herself of this diatribe Miss Matthews was entirely overcome, and sobbed so gustily, and thrust her sister and sister-in-law away so violently that it fell to Guy and Stella to escort her up to her own room. Guy performed his share of this task without conveying any marked impression of fondness for his aunt, while Stella openly grimaced at Dr Fielding. She was obliged to remain with Miss Matthews until that afflicted lady had recovered some measure of composure, and by the time she was at liberty to go downstairs again Dr Fielding had left the house, and Mrs Matthews was bidding farewell to the Luptons in the porch.

Stella found her brother in the library, telephoning to Mr Nigel Brooke, with whom, a year ago, he had gone into a precarious partnership.

Mr Brooke's vocation was Interior Decoration, and since Guy coupled a leaning towards Art with a profound veneration for Mr Brooke, four years his senior, he had had no difficulty in discovering the same vocation in himself. Both were alike inn being the only sons of widowed mothers, but whereas Nigel had entire control over his inherited capital the little money which Arthur Matthews had been able to leave his son was left him in trust, the trustees being his wife, and his eldest brother, Gregory. Guy had owed his partnership to his mother's skilful handling of his uncle, Gregory Matthews, who liked a Pretty Woman, and who knew next to nothing of his nephew's abilities, and had allowed himself to be cajoled into putting up a thousand pounds for Guy's share in the virgin business. Since that day he had ample opportunity of appraising his nephew's capabilities, and the result of this study was that upon being asked for a further advance to support the struggling fortunes of the firm of Brooke and Matthews he had countered with an offer from a business acquaintance who had a vacancy for a young man in the office of his rubber plantations in Brazil. The coaxings and even the tears of a Pretty Woman had this time failed to melt Gregory. He apostrophised his nephew as a young waster, and stated, with unnecessary violence, his profound desire to be rid of him. For perhaps the first time in her life Zoë Matthews had found it impossible to get her own way. Her only means of gratifying her son's ambition, and of keeping him at her side, was to sell out some of her own capital for his use, and since her income was already quite insufficient for her needs this expedient was naturally out of the question. She did not even consider it. Nor did she permit her resentment to become apparent to Gregory Matthews, for that would have been very stupid, and might have led to the loss of an extremely comfortable home for which she was not expected to pay as much as one farthing. The home had its disadvantages, of course. It was not her own, and the presence of her sister-in-law was always an irritation, but since poor Harriet was the antithesis of everything Gregory Matthews thought a female should be it needed really very little trouble to enlist his support in any disagreement she happened to have with her sister-in law. Patience and unfailing sweetness had achieved their object: at the end of a five-year sojourn at the Poplars Zoë Matthews had contrived to make herself, if not the mistress of the house, at least the cherished guest whose comfort must be everyone's first consideration. 'Such a ruthless woman - my dear Aunt Zoë,' Randall Matthews had once murmured, glancing maliciously up under his long lashes.

Randall was in Stella's thoughts as she waited for her brother to conclude his conversation with Nigel Brooke. When he put the receiver down at last she said abruptly: 'Do you suppose uncle left everything to Randall, Guy?'

'You bet he did—most of it, anyway,' replied Guy. 'Randall's been working for it for months, if you ask me—always turning up here for no known reason except to oil up to uncle by suddenly being attentive to him. It's so damned unfair! I come down from Oxford, and get a job absolutely bang-off, and stick to it, and all Randall does is to drift around looking willowy and run through a packet of money (because Uncle Hubert left a fair spot, so Aunt Harriet told me) and never do a stroke of work, or attempt to! It makes me sick! Besides, he's so utterly poisonous.'

Stella lit a cigarette. 'I suppose he'll turn up next. And say foul things to everybody in a loving voice. Do you think uncle's left mother any money?'

'Yes, I'm pretty sure he has,' said Guy confidently. 'Anyway, the main point is she's my sole trustree now, which means I shall be able to carry on with Nigel.' His brow clouded. 'Everything would be all right if it weren't for that blasted old harridan Aunt Gertrude! What the hell she wanted to stick her nose into it for I can't imagine.'

Jealous of us,' said Stella negligently. 'She probably thinks mother's getting more out of uncle's death than she is. Of course it's fairly noxious, but I suppose it doesn't really matter—the post-mortem, I mean.'

'Oh, doesn't it matter?' said Guy with considerable bitterness. Well, for once in her life Aunt Harriet hit the nail on the head! We shall have the police barging in and asking damned awkward questions, and if that's your idea of a good time it isn't mine! Everyone knows I had a flaming row with uncle over his precious South American scheme, and when the police hear about that I shall be in a nice position.'