On a Desert Shore (15 page)

In an undertone, he said, “Miss Garrod must confide her secrets without delay. You tell Lewis that for me.”

“I'm sure Penelope already has. Chase, we need to know what's in Garrod's will. I suspect—”

Chase stopped him. “Better sit down. The coroner is ready.”

Buckler strolled away to take his place in the chair Penelope had saved for him, though Chase noticed that their greeting was stiff. Irritated, he returned his attention to the table at the front. Two men had approached to engage the coroner in conversation. They were Garrod's solicitors, who had been closeted with Ned Honeycutt and Samuel Tallboys earlier that morning to discuss the arrangements for the reading of the will. Now Honeycutt and Tallboys also joined the group.

“There's no provision for it,” Chase heard one of the lawyers say. “How could Mr. Garrod have foreseen—? You must understand, sir, our hands are tied.”

“What Mr. Dudley tells you is true enough,” said Honeycutt. “Apparently, the will does not provide for the settling of a bill likely to exceed 150 pounds. The expenses would have to come out of the executors' pocket, and Mr. Tallboys, for one, is not able to meet them from his own purse. I'm afraid it's on the parish this time.”

The coroner did not like this response. “But the family. Naturally you'll wish to…”

“My pockets are to let, sir,” said Honeycutt. “We none of us have independent resources. It will take some time for the will to be given probate and my uncle's affairs wound up.”

“It's too bad,” agreed Tallboys pettishly. “How we are to pay for the postmortem and the chemical tests is more than I can tell you.”

The solicitors offered regretful bows and moved away. Honeycutt and Tallboys resumed their seats. The coroner opened the proceedings, first calling upon the surgeon Aurelius Caldwell to relate the progress of the victim's final illness, then summoning the physician from St. Thomas' hospital to report on the autopsy.

After describing the inflamed digestive tract, excess blood in the lungs, and yellowish spots in the stomach lining, the physician concluded: “Hugo Garrod's death resulted from a general disturbance of the constitution produced by the introduction of irritating matter into the stomach.”

“Poison, in fact?”

“There can be little doubt.”

“You are satisfied it was not the ordinary species of English cholera that sickened the victims?”

“Quite. For one thing, there was blood in the stool, which is not usual in the case of English cholera.”

The coroner indicated the beads and the powder from the crushed seed, which now sat in a small glass jar on the table. “Can you be more precise, sir? I am told that these seeds found near the spot where the victims took ill are a virulent poison. Could this powder have done the mischief?”

The doctor took his time in examining the specimen, taking off his spectacles to peer into the jar in a vague, nearsighted fashion. “What are they? I am unfamiliar with this substance.”

The coroner consulted his notes. “
Abrus precatorius,
also called wild licorice or the rosary pea.”

“It's possible, I suppose,” said the physician doubtfully. “The agent, whatever it is, has scoured the intestines and the stomach, causing ulcers. As to what it was, we must await the test results and hope they are conclusive.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Yes, sir,” said Garrod's sister Mrs. Yates, “on Thursday last, I restocked the teapoy with tealeaves and sugar from the pantry stores and sent a maid to return the key to Mr. Garrod. I never touched the key after that, though I knew it went missing for a few hours on the last day.”

“He brewed a pot from this tea the day before the attack?”

“And locked up the teapoy afterward. Then on that terrible night, Mrs. Wolfe drank her tea without sugar and did not fall ill. That's why we all think the poison was in the sugar.”

“So, as far as you know, the tea was fine?”

“Yes, sir.”

At this juncture one of the jurymen asked leave to pose a question, which was granted. “Could the sugar have been contaminated before it came into the house, or could it have been got at before it left the kitchen?” asked the man.

The cook, who had already testified, opened her mouth to protest, but the coroner waved her to silence. “We've already heard that the sugar was locked up,” he said, answering the man's question with some impatience. “We've no reason to question the cook's testimony. Sugar from this same supply had been used in the kitchen for several weeks. No, the tampering must have occurred while the teapoy sat in the hothouse.” He turned back to Mrs. Yates. “What time was it that Mr. Garrod missed the key?”

“Close to ten o'clock. It was found again by three.” At the coroner's prompting she detailed the members of the household who had access to Hugo Garrod's dressing room.

“Why, that could be anyone,” said Mrs. Yates.

“But, to be more precise in regard to the family, Miss Garrod was in her father's bedchamber that morning?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “And the valet.”

Hugo Garrrod's valet added little to this account except to offer that his master had been so fond of the “cunning” teapoy as to make it unlikely he would be careless with his key. The valet was certain the key had been in the writing desk in the dressing room when Garrod went to bed the night before. As to his own movements on the morning of the poisoning, the valet testified that he had left the bedchamber around the same time as his master and had gone down to the servants' dining hall for a cup of coffee and a roll. But he thought he was gone for only about a half-hour. After that he'd returned to his work upstairs.

To Penelope, who had taken the valet's place in the witness chair, the coroner said, “You're quite sure it was this key Mr. Garrod discovered on the dais, ma'am?”

She nodded. “I noticed it particularly because the ring is distinctive, and he was so pleased to find it again. He attached the teapoy key to his watch fob and put the ring in his pocket.”

“Later when you helped serve the tea, did you notice the key?”

“Mr. Garrod used it to unlock the teapoy.” Penelope paused, looking uncertain. Her gaze sought and found Chase's, and he gave her a nod of encouragement.

“Who was present on the dais, ma'am?”

She listed the names; then the coroner said, “Not Mr. Honeycutt?”

“No, he had gone to look for his cousin Miss Garrod.”

“And where was she?”

Addressing him calmly, she replied, “In the orangery with my brother, Lewis Durant. She was conducting him on a tour, and Mr. Honeycutt went to remind her that her father wanted her.”

“So neither Mr. Honeycutt nor Miss Garrod was present when the poisoning occurred? How fortunate for both of them,” murmured the coroner.

Penelope described the scene in the hothouse: the displaying of the teapoy, the dispensing of sugar and cream, the handing round of the cups. The coroner seemed interested that she had been asked to serve but accepted her explanation, saying only that he thought it a pity she would not be able to write her sketch of Hugo Garrod, after all.

“As to that,” she said, “my plans are uncertain.”

He nodded and returned to the tea party. “You noticed nothing out of the way, ma'am?”

“Nothing. No, that is not strictly accurate. I observed every detail with an unusual clarity. Afterward I wondered why I was not more surprised by what happened.” She shook her head in frustration. “It's difficult to explain it to you, sir.”

The coroner leaned forward in some excitement. “You can't mean you had a premonition?”

“Hardly that, but I suppose I was nervous. I'd been feeling that from the first moment I entered Mr. Garrod's home. It was…is…an unhappy one,” she returned.

“Why unhappy?” inquired the coroner, seizing on this remark. “One of our most prosperous and well regarded families?”

“Mr. Garrod is dead, most likely at the hand of someone in his household. Nothing else makes sense. That is all I meant.”

“Have you any suspicions to share with us, ma'am? Speak out if you do.”

“I do not,” she answered in a resolute tone.

The coroner did not press her further. As the afternoon advanced, several servants, including the under-gardener who found the wild licorice beads and the kitchen maid who had the confrontation with Marina Garrod, gave their testimony. Both darted sidelong looks at the girl as they perched in the witness chair, but only the under-gardener seemed to relish telling his tale. Marina sat through it all, a slender and erect figure, not even reacting when the jurymen began to whisper amongst themselves and look her way.

Though the kitchen maid emphasized that she herself had not viewed Marina's remark in the light of a serious threat, the coroner seemed to think otherwise. “You were right to tell us,” he told the girl when she had difficulty stemming her tears. “The truth cannot harm an innocent person.”

When it was Chase's turn, he described how he'd secured the suspect foodstuffs and inspected the lock on the teapoy.

In response to the coroner's request that he detail the procedures when a case of poisoning is suspected, Chase explained: “We inquire as to whether anyone prevented a doctor being called, was unwilling to leave the victim alone with other people, or hastened the funeral. None of which occurred in this case. We also determine whether the victim voiced any accusations on his deathbed or whether anyone had quarreled with him. Finally, we investigate whether anyone tampered with the evidence—to dispose of food or drink or of the poison itself.”

“We know something of this nature occurred because the under-gardener swore to finding Miss Garrod's wild licorice beads,” said the coroner.

“We know nothing of the kind. It's true the young lady wears a bracelet made of these beads. But the beads came from a necklace that had been broken. If
Abrus precatorius
was the poison, someone could have collected a sample, either from the necklace or the plant itself, which is grown in the hothouse, though in that event he would have needed to bore a hole in the seeds to make it seem they had come from the ornament. At all events, until we have the results of the chemical tests, there's no way to know whether the beads are of significance.”

Seeing he was not believed, Chase took out his pocketbook and read out the description of Ned Honeycutt's argument with his uncle. “So, you see,” he told the coroner, “we have other possibilities to explore. For another avenue of inquiry…” Here he reported Garrod's request for legal counsel and cryptic deathbed comments, concluding flatly with, “I have thought from the first that money was the motive for this crime.”

“We should consider who is named heir? That's not much help unless we learn the terms of the will. I'm sure you would not wish to cast suspicion without proof.” But as he spoke, the coroner persisted in eyeing Marina Garrod.

His train of thought was obvious when he next asked Chase to explain his presence in Clapham, listening with interest as Chase described the rubbish in Marina's reticule and the Obeah charm placed above Garrod's door. “How curious,” the coroner said. “Do we have two such pranksters at Laurentum? The gardener Higgins has already testified that Miss Garrod apologized for destroying some blooms in the night. What can you tell me of this incident?”

“The destruction of the flowers was no prank, sir. Miss Garrod's maid had given her too strong a dose of laudanum. She wandered in her sleep and was unaware of her actions.”

“Unaware?” the coroner echoed. Now his apprehension was plain. He wouldn't want to disoblige a wealthy and connected family by accusing its presumed heiress without solid reason, and yet he was worried. He would have heard the rumors about Miss Garrod's oddities—her behavior at parties, her determined isolation, her quicksilver moods. “What did Mr. Garrod tell you about his fears for his daughter?” he went on after a frowning silence.

This was the moment Chase had wished to avoid. At all costs he did not want to repeat the exact language Hugo Garrod had used in describing Marina's “delusion.” But he was compelled to say at least: “Mr. Garrod did mention that the trickery had upset his daughter a good deal.”

Curtly, the coroner told Chase to step down.

Then it was Ned Honeycutt's turn, and John Chase discovered he had underestimated Garrod's nephew. Honeycutt's explanation was simple: he'd long been a disappointment to his uncle, and he regretted his actions.

“One wishes to turn back the clock,” Honeycutt told the jury with disarming frankness. “But that's impossible.”

“You show yourself a man of proper sentiment,” said the coroner. “But I must ask you, sir, had there been bad feeling between you and your uncle?”

Honeycutt studied him a moment before he spoke. “Ah, you've heard about my wretched debts. My uncle recently discovered I had borrowed a sum of money on my expectations and swore he would no longer pay my allowance until I proved myself penitent. Of course, he wasn't pleased with me. I am ashamed of myself.” The jurymen watched him, some shaking their heads in disapproval, others rapt in this narrative of sin and redemption.

The coroner said sternly, “There's no denying it was very wrong of you and bound to look bad in the eyes of the world. I must say your timing was atrocious.” He permitted himself a small smile. A jury member coughed.

“It wasn't
my
timing” was Honeycutt's reply. “I've no doubt I have enemies, for how else did word of my debts come to my uncle's ears?” He raised one hand and said in ringing tones, “I tell you straight out that I loved my uncle and would never harm him. Never. I'll challenge any man who dares say otherwise.”

It seemed to Chase that the response to this was favorable. A sigh of sympathy went around the spectators. When the sensation had subsided, the coroner said, “Can you clarify the uncertainty surrounding your uncle's will? What did your uncle say on the subject? Had he ever threatened to disinherit you, for instance?”

He laughed. “Any number of times, but, no, I doubt it would ever actually have come to that.”

“But your cousin, Miss Garrod?”

“Miss Garrod and I are not in competition for our inheritance. Any division of interests will not endure.”

The coroner looked wise. “Ah, you expect to wed the lady?”

“It was my uncle's dearest wish. Today we've heard some thoughtless gossip about my cousin, and it's true her health has been…delicate. Believe me when I say her condition is nothing more than can be dealt with in the bosom of her family.” He gazed at Marina and allowed his voice to soften. “You must allow that I know her better than anyone here. Who better to vouch for her than her affianced husband, the man anxious to relieve her from any unpleasant associations? I made a sacred promise on my uncle's deathbed, and I intend to honor it.”

***

As Edward Buckler listened to Ned Honeycutt's testimony, he saw that the jurymen liked Garrod's nephew and were swayed by the display of tenderness for his young cousin. Still, enough had been hinted in Marina Garrod's disfavor that the court was bound to inquire further, especially in the absence of viable suspects.

It wasn't difficult for Buckler to appreciate the coroner's dilemma. The coroner was anxious to manage this high-profile case without mistakes. On the one hand, he approved of Honeycutt and thought that if something were indeed wrong with the girl, the private solution of a quiet marriage would be best for all concerned. On the other hand, a prominent resident had been poisoned, and it was the coroner's job to bring the crime home to someone if he could. Then, too, he could not have failed to observe the youth and beauty of Hugo Garrod's daughter as she tripped forward, lifted her veil, and turned a guileless smile upon him. So lovely, so fragile a girl could not be guilty of a heinous crime. And yet the coroner was bound to inquire. Edward Buckler knew that everything must depend upon the way Marina Garrod conducted herself on the stand.

She took the oath, arranged the folds of her dress, and awaited the first question.

“My condolences, Miss Garrod, on your tragic loss,” said the coroner. He blinked as he took in the full effect of her large, liquid eyes and piquant face.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You understand we would not trouble you at this time of grief if it were not absolutely necessary, ma'am?”

Marina clasped her hands in front of her. “But I want you to find the person who did this to my father. Ask me anything you wish.”

The coroner sat back in his chair and studied her. At length, he said, “It's very good of you, Miss Garrod. Well, tell me about the conversation you had with the kitchen maid. You can understand why this might be interpreted as a threat, and certainly Daisy thought you were predicting that evil would come upon the house—as it now has.”

“No, sir.”

“Do you claim Daisy lied?”

“Merely that she misunderstood me. I found her questions impertinent, so I said what I did to quiet her.” She raised those fathomless eyes to his. “I didn't like her vulgar curiosity about my mother.”