Poison

by Charlot King

  “Why did you throw away Edward Wiley’s passport away?”

  Susan realises they must have seen her do it. Why are they saving it until now to bring out?

  “I took it last night in the restaurant from his jacket. I was going to surprise him with a last minute holiday, after he’d told Rebecca he was leaving her. Edward loved Africa. I had it as I was going to leave it at the check in. But then I panicked. I got rid of it, as I thought you’d wrongly suspect me if you found me with it.”

  “That makes no sense. So you throw his passport away, you have a last supper with Edward. He is going back to his wife? For what?”

  “No, you are getting it all wrong.”

  Inspector Abley doesn’t know what to believe. He decides to gather his thoughts outside and stands up.

  “For the record we’re taking a break. It is 13:31 on the clock.”

  The Inspector gets up from his chair and walks towards the door. He looks back at Susan, who is now sweating and looking very pale.

  “May I have some more water?”

  He nods and leaves to get himself a coffee, pointing to the constable at the door to sort a water for Susan and then shuts it behind him. At the end of the corridor he waits by the coffee machine for the cup to fill. It just doesn’t make sense. Why has Susan made up such a strange tale about being attacked? Who is going to fall for that? For the first time he begins to think he might be onto something. He could have done all this without that Elizabeth, who has just served to put Susan’s back up if anything. But then he pulls out Susan’s ticket from Stansted airport for a flight to Cape Town at 15:00 today and also realises that Susan may well have got away if he’d left it much later. Yes, he had Elizabeth to thank for that at least. But he had it covered now. Susan was going to sing.

  ✧

  Back at Rebecca’s college rooms Jonathan and Kara have started to pack up Rebecca’s belongings to take back to their house. Kara, now dressed in one of Rebecca’s sweaters and jog pants, has a large plain brown box and is gently placing all of Rebecca’s shoes in tissue paper from the shoe rack. Rebecca, upset with the police who have been through everything while she was out.

  “I don’t want to leave.” Rebecca throws a pretty orange dress from the suitcase to the floor. Jonathan takes Rebecca’s hand and tries to calm her.

  “You’ll be much better off at our house. We can be there for you. Take care of you in this difficult time. The national press have picked this up. There’s no privacy here. And what if the police want to come back again to look through Edward’s things and -?”

  Kara interjects.

  “Are we not taking them too? I think Rebecca might want everything close.”

  Jonathan walks over and picks up some shoes.

  “Hey, you kept the black velvet heels with the straps and bows.”

  Kara watches Jonathan pick up the shoes and smile, then also tries to make light and walks over to Rebecca to sit down beside her.

  “I get lonely in the house, it’s so big. I rattle about. It would be lovely to have you keep me company. Jonathan is always in London.”

  Rebecca resists the invitation.

  “This is our home.” Rebecca’s bottom lip wobbles a little. “If I leave then I’ll lose those things that keep me close to Edward.”

  Kara strokes Rebecca’s hair.

  “But we’re your family. We need to stick together.” She stands back up and picks out another pair of shoes from the wardrobe. Jonathan picks out a collection of dresses and puts them in the suitcase.

  “Put those down!” Rebecca jumps across the bed and turns over the box of shoes, and all of Kara’s carefully folded shoes in tissue paper come spilling out. Kara throws her hands up and leaves the room for some air. Jonathan follows her out. Kara turns when she hears his steps and walks over to the window.

  “I’m tired, look at me.” Kara pulls at the sweat shirt. “This is such a mess.”

  “She’s just lost her husband. She’s upset.”

  “She’s also mad.” Kara sighs.

  “At Susan Bunt, not you.”

  “What is she like, I guess you know her?”

  Jonathan raises his eyebrows.

  “A few times, a long time ago, then when she was with Edward. Apparently was a beast to Sis’ when Edward left her. No manners. But murder, really?” He pauses to think about it and looks out of the window at the now beautifully sunny day. “Maybe.”

  “Do you think Rebecca is still jealous of her?”

  “Quite possibly. Though god knows why. Susan looks like the back end of a -”

  “Okay, I get it. Rebecca really sounds mad at her. Do you think she -”

  Jonathan interrupts Kara.

  “I had a call, on the way back with Rebecca. I have a place in the Cabinet, they’re not saying what yet. Can I count on you two not to fuck it up? If only Rebecca can not run off again, and you can lay off the booze.”

  “You need to ask?”

  Jonathan is suddenly ill at ease with the rooms.

  “No course not. What was I thinking?”

  Kara knows Jonathan’s sarcasm when she hears it.

  “I will lay off the booze.”

  “It really is like living in Dickensian times. I mean look at this place.”

  Kara agrees, touching the campanula on the windowsill.

  “Even the plants die here.”

  ✧

  Susan is motionless on her chair in the interview room. She sits alone at the table, her water cup empty. She can see the Inspector through a glass circle in the top of the door, talking to another police officer just outside. The Inspector nods, listening, then looks closely at Susan. Then the door opens and he comes through, returning to his seat. He throws a cigarette and a box of matches to Susan, aware that he is breaking the rules. His fellow officer who has also entered turns on the recorder.

  “Are you charging me? Otherwise I’d like to go now. You’ve kept me long enough.”

  “It would appear that the waiter in the restaurant confirmed that you did indeed leave separately. And a couple in the corner seemed to think you both looked very much engrossed in conversation.”

  Susan raises her eyebrows.

  “We are, were, in love.”

  “Another couple said they saw you alone walking along King’s Parade. Thank yourself lucky for wearing such a distinctive cloak. They said you looked a bit like the grim reaper.”

  “Aren’t I the popular one.”

  “We also have a CCTV of you stumbling along Fen Road, again alone. There appears to be an African face mask just outside your house, which has Edward’s DNA all over it.”

  “He gave it to me. I must have dropped it. So you can let me go. I mean we did leave separately. That proves I went home.”

  “I’m just trying to find out why Edward Wiley is dead. There’s no proof you didn’t catch up with him later. You’re not off the hook. You certainly had a motive.”

  “What motive?”

  “You couldn’t have the man you loved. He chose Mrs Rebecca Wiley as his wife. That must have stung.”

  “Listen Inspector, I know what you’re trying to make me do; admit I killed Edward, even though you have no evidence. It would be easy for you. A quick open and shut case. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t kill Edward. You see, we were expecting a baby and going to start a new life together. My baby is going to have to grow up without a father. I don’t think I’m ready to be a single parent mum. What life is that for my baby?”

  Abley is thrown by the news. Why had she not mentioned this before? They arrested her and handcuffed her and he remembers the sergeant pushing her into the car. Oh my god, and now he’s been making her sit here, with cigarettes? Abley was always a big softie about women and babies. Even criminals.

  “Why didn’t you say?”

 
“You didn’t ask.”

  “Dr Bunt, this is a serious enquiry.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  Susan Bunt looks clammy and unwell.

  “All right. All right. Sergeant, get Dr Bunt some more water, will you? And a cup of sweet tea.”

  The policeman by the door pops out to do as he’s told.

  “You are free to go once you have made a statement of the events of the night and what you did, and also please include the alley altercation. If you can do this before you leave that would be beneficial to everyone.”

  Susan nods.

  “We’d like it if you remain in Cambridge, for the foreseeable future. We won’t be keeping your passport. But, would urge you to cooperate with us.”

  “So you don’t think I’m guilty of anything?”

  “Let’s just say that we are letting you go without charge for anything related to Mr Wiley, but don’t pop the corks, we will be charging you with assaulting a police officer.”

  “Why don’t we say we’re even and call it quits. I could sue for missed holiday expenses. Danger to my baby.”

  “You don’t seem to understand British law. It doesn’t work like that, and I’ll have that back.”

  Abley snatches the cigarette from Susan’s mouth and stubs it out in the ashtray. He picks up the packet on the table. She sighs, knowing he’s right. Inspector Abley gets back up on his feet.

  “The interview is terminated at 2.10pm.” The remaining uniformed police officer turns off the recorder and Abley leaves the room without looking back. Susan leans back in her chair. The police officer gives her paper and a pen to make a statement and another returns with water and a weak looking tea in a paper cup.

  23. The Reluctant Participant

  At King’s College the Dean, Professor Percival Flint, leans against a cold radiator under a tall bay window. In front of him on the other side of The Backs lay verdant pastures as far as the eye can see, framed by tall beech trees. Cattle chomp their way through un-mown grass, sharing their field with two goats. Willows hang over punts slowly drifting by, full of tourists looking at this other worldly place. A couple point up at the window and wave. Professor Flint, not wanting to appear rude ever so slightly nods back. Dr Eruna, meanwhile, is swivelling around in the Dean’s chair and kicking his heels against a precious cherry wood desk. The Dean sighs and turns to face his least favourite scientist.

  “Can you stop doing that.”

  “What?”

  “It’s made for sitting.”

  “Nonsense. It’s destiny was to impart joy for all those who spread their buttocks.”

  “You’re knocking six bells out of my Chippendale.”

  “This old bit of firewood.”

  “That desk alone is worth more than a graduate’s yearly fees.”

  “Okay, I’m stopped, if it will make you more conducive towards the idea.”

  Professor Flint takes the few steps between window and desk and walks behind Dr Eruna, placing his hands on the chair, warning him.

  “I don’t want any underhandedness. I’ve told you I’ll write the damn paper.”

  “Yes, but when? You seem to be getting cold feet.”

  “I’ve yet to see a big cheque for the college that you promised.”

  “I’ll make the first donation.”

  “It is too large a sum for a donation. People will grow suspicious. You’ll have to make it out to the college research fund, and we can tie it into future research for the students. Just give me half now, like you said you would.”

  “Ah.”

  “What?”

  “It’s just that I’ve written to the funds committee already about the best way to make the donation. I have to have a receipt. I can’t just hand over millions in cash.”

  “You did what? You promised to go through me.”

  “I thought they’d get excited, that it would be nice. I said that it was as a direct result of the research you have conducted for us.”

  “Tell me this is a sick joke.”

  Dr Eruna, forced to keep still now starts to play with the Dean’s computer keyboard. He can see that Flint has the internet open at a news page. He clicks off that and types in ‘how to write faster’ and thirty one million searches come up in .32 of a second. Flint shuts the computer down.

  “They’re going to ask for academic rigour now, don’t you see? You’ve made this virtually impossible for me. They’ll want to peer review my work.”

  “I don’t see why you’re getting jittery. We can find a couple of people in this esteemed university, surely, to review a paper. Everyone has their price.”

  “I agreed ages ago when you hadn’t told me the whole truth. Leave that!”

  Professor Flint takes a valuable antique Baccarat paper weight from Dr Eruna’s hand, to stop him juggling with it. Flint walks back over to the window.

  “I don’t feel happy about this. I really don’t think -”

  Dr Eruna starts to tire of Flint’s stalling and makes it plain he has no more patience for delays.

  “I told you all you need to know. We need that recommendation, so make your pen write sweet compliments. Your reputation is worth more than your personality, Percy.”

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  “You need to grow a thicker skin. If you don’t then I’ll have no choice but to tell the world that you were trying to get money out of us, and were willing to write anything to do it.”

  “What?”

  “You leave me no option, Percy.”

  “Oh, right. So we see your true colours, it’s blackmail now is it? And who would believe you? I’d just say you were lying.”

  “Well, all those trips. Let me see now, to Paris, to New York, all paid for by Labzuu.”

  Professor Flint’s beetroot face starts to spit at Eruna.

  “They were research trips.”

  “Yeah, yeah. So staying at the Ritz, that’s normal is it, for a Don’s salary? Listen, don’t eat yourself up over it. When this is published, we’ll all make millions. It’s the credit we need. We deserve. You know we’re not the demons as painted. What’s wrong with helping us a little?” Eruna, having the upper hand right now, keeps his composure. While Professor Flint fumes.

  “The expensive PR firm you’ve hired, and the metres of barbed wire around your offices are just for show are they? People had warned me about you. I should’ve listened.”

  “What I don’t understand about you Percy, is why this sudden change of heart? So, don’t take our money if you think it’s dirty. But you still owe us the paper.”

  “You know it is not for me. I’m doing this for the college, God help me.”

  “This college is loaded, come on, don’t lie to yourself.”

  Eruna gets up and wanders over to the window to join Flint. Professor Flint laughs at him.

  “You think we’re so wealthy. How much do you think it costs to run a college like this?”

  Eruna remains as cool as a cucumber and replies, “We can set up Fellowships. Let us come into bed with you on a large scale. Hey, why not? It’s a great idea.” Eruna waves to some punters who wave back, giggling thinking they have just waved to a royal or someone famous. Flint sees this and pulls the curtains slightly to obstruct him from view, ashamed to have Dr Eruna in sight.

  “No. This is more than enough contact between us.”

  “But you’ll be asked about us. You will have to defend the company. You can’t go back on that, or I would have to admit what you have done. Writing a recommendation about unproven science. Hmm, an end to your career.”

  “A Fellow of our college is dead. Please don’t tempt me to add to the toll. I must ask you to leave now.”

  “Okay, but let’s meet later. I have to do something in the centre but will be back in a while. We need to iron this out
.”

  Dr Eruna leaves, and Percival Flint looks to the ceiling and slumps down into his chair. He picks up the phone and speed dials. No one answers so he starts to leave a message.

  “I need you to call me. It’s urgent. We need to talk.”

  Percival hangs up.

  ✧

  Not far from the Professor’s room, Rebecca is now alone in her married couple’s college apartment. Kara and Jonathan have left, taking the first car load of boxes and suitcases. She sits on the bed looking at the sky through the tiny leaded window. A blue silk scarf with tiny Scotty dogs draped over her shoulders, the radio beside her, quietly emitting classical music. After a short time the piece comes to an end and a presenter reads the news headlines. ‘The brother-in-law of Conservative MP Jonathan Smythe-Jones has died after falling into the River Cam last night. Dr Edward Wiley, was a don at the university. Cambridgeshire police have not confirmed the cause of death, but the local Conservative MP for Ely, Jonathan Smythe-Jones, released a statement saying the family are devastated and to thank people for their kind thoughts at this very sad time.’ Rebecca gets off the bed and starts to go through her jewellery box, and jewellery stand. She looks through a lot of necklaces. She can’t find what she is looking for, and continues to search through all her belongings on the table top. Make up bags, carry purses are emptied, but still nothing. Then opens the table drawers one by one and tips out all the lingerie, black, pink, green with tiny petals. She can’t find it. Rebecca walks across to the bedside table and pulls open the draw. Nothing. She leans across the bed and opens Edward’s bedside table. Rebecca looks panicked. She scrabbles in some final boxes Kara and Jonathan haven’t taken yet but still nothing.

  “Where is it?”

  She hears a knock at the door and walks out into the drawing room. It is Carter, with a parcel and a tray of tea and biscuits. Rebecca carries them into the bedroom. How kind of Carter. Using some scissors from a drawer she cuts open the wrapping. Inside is a bundle of hand written letters, tied up with a ribbon. Rebecca recognises the handwriting, as she unties them letting them fall and scatter on the bed around her. There must be two dozen at least, all with foreign stamps. She starts to read the first and her face begins to change. As she turns the page she looks at the envelope in disbelief and back again at the words. Her eyes fill with tears until one escapes and runs down her cheek.