Sick to Death

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Sick to Death Page 15

by Douglas Clark


  ‘It’s too solid to be wrong,’ Hook said. ‘But how did Cora Dent know all that about an emetic and how to make insulin useless?’

  Masters said, ‘She made contact with Sisson’s nurse, who in former days had been working in the diabetic clinic of the hospital. We heard from Miss Breese that Nurse Ward had visited Mrs Dent early on Saturday evening. She was seen leaving the house at a quarter to seven. I believe it was her report that decided Mrs Dent to act that night. You see, sir, Miss Bowker had told Dr Sisson only that morning that she and Brian intended to have children, and to start having them immediately they were married. Nurse Ward—with whom this particular conversation between Miss Bowker and Sisson was a very sore point—had obviously hurried to Mrs Dent to report it. For Mrs Dent this was the last straw. She was already prepared to murder Sally to prevent her marrying Brian; she was prepared to murder Sally immediately at the thought of her producing children which might, just possibly, but improbably, carry the same defect as their mother. A form of madness, no doubt. But to confirm what I say, Inspector Green will give us the gist of Nurse Ward’s formal statement.’

  ‘It’s the old story,’ Green said. ‘Ward was flattered by the attention paid to her by Mrs Dent. It started soon after Bowker was diagnosed as diabetic. According to Ward, when she worked in the hospital, Mrs Dent, who was always in and out, never noticed her. Then I think Sally Bowker must have mentioned Nurse Ward at the Dents’ house. There was an accidental meeting on purpose between Ward and Mrs Dent. Engineered by Dent in a coffee shop. Dent said, “You’re Nurse Ward, aren’t you? Yes, I thought I recognized you. My son’s fiancée tells me you’re looking after her now. Splendidly, she says. Do you mind if I have my coffee with you? Thank you. You must tell me all about diabetes so that I know how to look after Sally, too. Her parents are away, you know, and I feel so responsible for her.” That was the form. As we know, Ward is keen on Sisson. Sisson was keen on Bowker, and Ward knew it. She would do anything to keep Bowker in cahoots with young Dent and away from Sisson. Ward and Mrs Dent met about once a month and, as Mrs Dent intended they should, the meetings deteriorated into little more than tittle-tattle sessions about Bowker. After each of Bowker’s visits to the surgery, Ward reported what went on to Dent. Dent encouraged these meetings. Ward reported to her as usual on the Saturday that Bowker died—or, more correctly, the Saturday before she died.’

  Green handed round the packet of Kensitas he had been holding while he spoke. He then went on: ‘Nurse Ward admits she reported overhearing Miss Bowker tell Dr Sisson that she and young Dent intended to start a family immediately they were married.’

  There was a short pause, then Masters continued: ‘As I said a moment ago, I think that news infuriated Mrs Dent. Made her determined to act immediately. She saw Nurse Ward away at a quarter to seven—the visit hadn’t been noticed by Dent, who was watching television, or by the youngsters, who were swimming—then she went into action. She first of all ruined the insulin. That would be the only tricky part, and it could only have taken her two or three minutes at the most—to open the bag, put the carrying-case under the heat, and then put it back in the bag.’

  ‘It would be hot,’ Green commented.

  ‘They use tongs for these grills.’

  ‘I know that. But putting it back in the bag.’

  ‘Easy. The bag was in the cloakroom. Mrs Dent could carry in the hot case and lock the door behind her while she waited for the case to cool. If Miss Bowker had come along and tried the door, what would she think?’

  ‘That Mrs D. was in there having a jimmy,’ Green suggested.

  ‘Quite. The natural assumption. So as soon as the case was cool enough, into the bag it could go. If Miss Bowker was waiting outside, flushing the lavatory would help convince her that Mrs Dent was in there for an innocuous purpose. After that, I expect, Mrs Dent made her solution of zinc sulphate—quite openly, because nobody would question her making a mixture in her own kitchen—carried it through to the wine cupboard, hid it there, took the Drambuie and Benedictine bottles, emptied them, and then took them back to the wine cupboard. Five minutes’ work at most and, as I say, it wouldn’t have mattered if anybody had seen her doing any of it except grilling the carrying-case and pouring away the liqueurs.

  ‘The whole plan worked like clockwork. Nobody else could have been responsible. Brian was swimming until after Sally gave herself her first injection. Harry Dent didn’t serve the Anisette. The Bancrofts didn’t go into the kitchen or leave the table during the meal.’

  Hook said heavily, ‘And that’s it?’

  ‘Except for the identification parade and a check for Mrs Dent’s fingerprints among those taken off Sally Bowker’s bag. There are some of a woman other than Sally herself.’

  ‘What about the carrying-case?’

  ‘Too many of us handled that; and in any case, as they handle things with tongs or a fish slice in these infra-red grills there might not have been any identifiable ones. Anyhow, it’s immaterial. You’ve got the whole story with material confirmation to support the circumstantial evidence.’

  Hook got to his feet. ‘I don’t know how the devil you do it,’ he said.

  ‘My written report will be very much fuller. You’ll find your answer in there.’

  ‘Maybe. I doubt if even you can write up what you owe to commonsense and ability. However, that’s not my affair. I’ll have to arrest Cora Dent.’

  ‘And we’ll be going straight away if you don’t mind, sir.’

  ‘But I do mind. I’ve got Mr and Mrs Bowker coming over tonight. They’ll want to thank you.’

  Masters shivered mentally. ‘Please tell them I had another urgent job waiting for me.’

  ‘Is there really another one lined up already?’ Hook said.

  ‘I never knew the time when there wasn’t,’ replied Green.

  On the road home, Green said, ‘I didn’t think you’d make it.’

  ‘You mean you were dead scared we wouldn’t.’

  Green blustered. ‘What d’you mean? Scared?’

  ‘Because you’re a sentimental old humbug. Right from the start you fell for that photo of Sally Bowker and you wanted to find her murderer so desperately you got scared that we shouldn’t succeed.’

  Green had the grace to blush.

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