The Cyanide Ghost (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 6)

by Linda Stratmann

  Inspector Gibbs of the Brighton police stated that Barnes was a known criminal who had served several terms of imprisonment for assault, theft and handling stolen goods. The Sussex police were searching for him.

  The jury after some consideration brought in a verdict of murder and named Barnes as the chief suspect.

  Mina read on. As Dr Hamid had said, the loss of young Hector had been a fatal shock to his already declining father.

  Brighton Gazette, June 1867

  Obituary

  The death occurred last Wednesday of Mr Hector Samprey, aged 63, who passed away peacefully at his home. He had been in poor health since 1859 when he suffered severe injuries in the carriage accident that claimed the life of his wife, Amelia. In his youth he had served in the army, attaining the rank of Major. For the last twenty-five years he was by profession a builder and renovator of fashionable properties in the county of Sussex, his works being widely acknowledged as being of the highest quality. In character he was a fair and good-tempered man, who bore any personal afflictions with courage and stoicism. Only two weeks ago he was struck a terrible blow by the tragic death of his eldest son, Hector Jnr, aged 33. We cannot comment on this here, but we are told only that the police are confident that an arrest will soon be made in the case. Mr Samprey is survived by two younger sons and a daughter.

  Mina was now thoroughly engrossed in the story. She read on and learned that 36-year-old Barnes had been arrested a week later. It had required the efforts of three police officers to take the violently struggling prisoner into custody. Once at the police station a pistol was found on him which had been recently discharged, and there were live rounds in his pockets which he attempted unsuccessfully to throw away. It could not be determined whether the pistol was the one that had killed young Samprey, but the man was known to have been in possession of more than one weapon at various times in his criminal career. In the police court, Barnes’s representative confirmed that his client had been an associate of Hector Samprey junior and admitted that the men had met two days before the murder. There had however been no quarrel. Both men had been drinking and this had resulted in what he termed a ‘high spirited conversation’. This statement led to some hilarity amongst the spectators which drew sharp words from the magistrate. Barnes claimed that he had not seen Samprey since that night and denied murder.

  The woman who lived with him, who gave the name of Jenny Jemson, was a forlorn creature, probably quite young but looking older than her true years, meanly dressed, with dark patches on her cheeks that might have been grime or bruises, or something of both. She made a pathetic figure in the witness box and evoked much sympathy from the onlookers, who could only speculate on the kind of life she must have led with the brutish creature in the dock. Her evidence, given in a whisper, was that Barnes had had no quarrel with Samprey, and he had been in her company at the time of the murder. The general impression was that the unhappy woman had been browbeaten into giving that account.

  Barnes was charged with the murder of Hector Samprey junior and sent for trial at Lewes Crown Court. There, his female companion, deprived of his company during the previous few weeks, was still defiantly loyal, the Nancy to his Bill Sykes, as some whispered. Although still clad in poverty, she was tidier and cleaner than she had been, the bruising faded, her head held higher, her voice stronger, but she still gave the same story. It was no surprise to Mina that Barnes was found guilty of the murder of Hector Samprey junior and hanged.

  Out of curiosity, Mina ordered the 1859 volume for the earlier history of the unfortunate Sampreys.

  Brighton Gazette, July 1859

  FATAL ACCIDENT TO MRS SAMPREY. MR HECTOR SAMPREY DESPAIRED OF.

  On Wednesday afternoon last, a shocking accident resulted in the death of Mrs Amelia Samprey, aged 50, and injuries to Mr Hector Samprey so serious that it is feared he may not recover. Mr Samprey was due to drive to Ovingdean to inspect a piece of land he was interested in purchasing. The weather being fine, Mrs Samprey decided to accompany her husband as she wished to see the Grange, the historic building immortalised in the famous novel of Mr Harrison Ainsworth. Unfortunately, they had not proceeded far when something caused the carriage to make a sudden lurch. The horses took fright, and the coachman, Mr Pendry, while trying desperately to control them, was flung bodily from the vehicle. He suffered fractured ribs and bruising but is expected to recover. Mrs Samprey received a blow on the temple which was so severe that when she was brought out of the carriage it was apparent that she had expired. Mr Samprey broke both his legs and also received injuries to his spine. He was brought home, where he remains in a very serious condition under the constant care of his physicians.

  Brighton Gazette, July 1859

  Coroner’s Inquest

  The inquest on the body of Mrs Amelia Samprey was opened before D. Black Esq., Borough Coroner at the Town Hall. Evidence of identification was received, and a report was read regarding the injuries suffered by the unfortunate lady which were believed to be the immediate cause of death. Mr Pendry the coachman was too indisposed to attend, and the proceedings were adjourned for one week in anticipation that he might be able to give evidence as to the cause of the accident.

  Brighton Gazette, July 1859

  Coroner’s Inquest

  The adjourned inquest on the body of Mrs Amelia Samprey was held before D. Black Esq., Borough Coroner, at the Town Hall.

  There could be no doubt from evidence given at the first hearing that the cause of Mrs Samprey’s death was the striking of her head on the interior of the carriage. The only question remaining to be determined was the reason for the terrible accident. Mr Pendry the coachman, who had been too badly injured to attend last week, was now able to appear, although it was obvious from the way he took great care as he walked, that he was in severe pain. He stated that the carriage had been in perfect order before the journey commenced, as he had given it his usual thorough inspection shortly before departure. He had since ascertained that a wheel had come loose from the axle, causing the sudden lurch which had so frighted the horses. He could only imagine that the wheel must have struck some obstruction lying in the roadway and that this had caused the damage.

  After a brief deliberation the coroner’s jury brought in a verdict of accidental death and confirmed that no blame could be attached to Mr Pendry. Mr Hector Samprey continues very ill, although his condition appears to be more hopeful.

  Her work at the reading room done, Mina called in at the bookshop next door. Having noted that Mr Robert Mulgrew was a theological scholar, she wondered if he had ever published a book or pamphlet which might furnish her with more information about the author.

  She could not help but notice an abundance of volumes by Mr Hope; those with the author’s signature appended commanded a higher price than those without. There were a few stories by Robert Neil on display, the little booklets tucked into a wooden stand with other similar publications. Mina, under a pretence of examining the merchandise, moved some of the storybooks about to bring her own to more prominence. The bookseller, unaware that he was speaking to the author, was a little disparaging on the subject of sensational literature, saying that it was not in his opinion suitable for ladies. Mina asked if he had anything in stock by Mr Robert Mulgrew, but the name did not sound familiar to him, and he shook his head.

  Mina next tried the library, where their catalogue showed that they had some religious tracts by Robert Mulgrew, which had been privately printed in Brighton. These bore such titles as The Message of the Gospels, The Power of Prayer Revealed, What is Faith? and Christ the Healer. At some point it had been decided to publish the tracts in a collection as a single volume, and Mina asked to see this. A brief biography in the frontispiece stated only that Mulgrew, a schoolmaster by profession, was no preacher but a quiet man, who studied the scriptures with great earnestness and occasionally wrote his personal observations. There was an insert on shiny paper printed with a photograph of Robert Mulgrew. Mina had imagined hi
m to be an ascetic-looking scholarly gentleman and was a little surprised to see a large hearty individual with a ruff of white hair above his ears and muttonchop whiskers. He was standing by a small platform piled with religious works and had an open bible in his hand.

  The photograph had been taken by H G Simpson.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The following morning, a letter appeared in the Brighton Gazette which Mina read with some amusement.

  To the Editor,

  A number of Brighton residents have recently received letters from a certain photographer of this town, whom we take care not to name, advising them that he has taken a picture of their family monument in the Extra Mural Cemetery. These pictures, it should be emphasised, were taken not at the request of the family concerned, but at the photographer’s own whim, and for reasons known only to himself. In these letters the recipients are invited to come to his place of business and view the photographs, as there is something of interest in them.

  Anyone who receives such a letter is most strongly advised to place it in the wastepaper basket where it surely belongs. The photographer concerned should cease and desist from sending these tasteless communications. Should anyone be unwise enough to go to his shop and make enquiries, they will see an image of their family monument with what is supposed to be their deceased ancestor’s ghost beside it. We would like to remind the general public of Brighton that there are a dozen methods employing chemical means by which such pictures can be produced, none of them involving any intervention of the supernatural. The only profiter from these pictures is the photographer himself. If anyone is in any doubt, they should consult the photographic magazines and learn of the fate of Mr William Mumler, an American gentleman who made a great deal of money from the sale of similar pictures and found himself in court on a charge of fraud. We say nothing about the Brighton gentleman, only that he is in grave danger of being tarred with the same brush as Mr Mumler and should beware.

  W and T Soules, Manufacturing Chemists.

  Brighton

  The most peaceful times in Mina’s life were those when she attended the baths for her weekly vapour cure and massage, exercised alone with her dumbbells, or sat at her writing desk on her little wedge-shaped cushion creating harrowing stories. Her most recent tale concerned a man called Seckler, who had fallen victim to a terrible curse. Overnight he had turned into a giant carnivorous insect in which form he attacked the members of his family and devoured them. His neighbour, a deceptively diminutive lady called Miss Lettie, was about to put paid to the monster. Mina had been debating whether her small but formidable heroine should set fire to the creature and watch him burn or dispatch him with a few well-aimed blows of an axe, when she was disturbed by a loud noise.

  It was highly unusual to hear running footsteps in her home, but that evening with half an hour still to go before dinnertime there was a frantic thumping on the stairs. The hurried steps were coming her way, and she had little doubt that she would not like whatever it was she was about to learn. Only Richard could have made such a footfall, and she wondered if the letter in the Gazette from the Soules brothers had caused a commotion in the shop.

  She had laid her pen aside and turned from her desk in anticipation when the door to her room opened rather more abruptly than was normal. Richard stood in the doorway, breathless, as if he had run all the way from Ship Street, which he might well have done. He was clearly very frightened. ‘Mina!’ he gulped.

  She rose to go to him, and he pushed the door shut and leaned against it. ‘Richard, what is it?’ She took his hands while he composed himself. ‘Tell me at once,’ she insisted. ‘Is someone dead?’

  ‘No, but I might have been!’

  She quickly looked him up and down but could see nothing obviously the matter. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No, no, I am well and unharmed, but Miss Hartop is not. Someone has tried to murder her! I expect all Brighton will know about it before long.’

  Mina led her brother into the room, induced him to sit on the edge of the bed, and loosened his collar before it strangled him. She poured a glass of water from the carafe on her night-table, pressed the glass into his hands, and sat beside him. ‘Now then,’ she said, speaking calmly in an effort to convey some of that calmness to Richard, who was trying not to spill the drink down his shirt front. ‘Tell me everything, from the start.’

  He nodded and took some deep breaths. As he did so, she studied him more carefully in case there was some injury he was too upset at present to feel but could see no sign of anything other than a general distraction.

  At length he was able to speak more evenly. ‘You remember I told you that some of Miss Hartop’s clients for her mediumship as Lady Brighthelm have left her gifts? She doesn’t ask for money, so it’s usually little things like a flower, or one of those scented sachets. Well, yesterday she received some chocolates. Veale’s violet creams, all done up in some coloured paper with a ribbon. They arrived when she was with a client, so I kept them behind the counter and handed them to her as she was leaving. She opened the paper and offered me one.’ He whimpered. ‘Thank heaven I detest violet creams, or I might have taken one. If I had, I might not be here now.’

  ‘She did not eat any herself?’ asked Mina, with an uncomfortable feeling as to where this account was leading.

  Richard blinked. ‘Um, well, now you mention it she did put one in her mouth. Just as she was going out.’

  There was no inhabitant of Brighton who did not recall with horror and in some detail the dreadful poisoning case of 1871. A Miss Christiana Edmunds had used poisoned chocolates in an attempt to murder the wife of a Doctor Beard, for whom she had developed a wholly inappropriate passion, an emotion which he did not return. Mrs Beard survived, and while there was no definite proof that Miss Edmunds was responsible, her erratic behaviour led to her being suspected of the crime. At this point the love-struck maiden ought to have considered herself fortunate not to be arrested, and left well alone, but instead she decided to deflect suspicion from herself by distributing poisoned chocolates around the town and sending poisoned cakes and fruit to prominent citizens. Her intention was presumably to make it appear that the doctor’s wife was simply one victim of another individual’s mass poisoning campaign.

  These cruelly thoughtless actions had resulted in the tragic death of a small child. Miss Edmunds had purchased her chocolates from Maynards, not Veales, some of which she had adulterated with strychnine and then returned to the shop. She had even complained that she herself had been made ill by poisoned chocolates. Miss Edmunds’s theatrical protestations had not, however, deceived Inspector Gibbs of the Brighton police, whose investigations had uncovered the evidence he needed to demonstrate her guilt. She was arrested and tried for murder. The notorious poisoner, having terrified the town into the belief that the days of the Borgias had returned, was currently residing in Broadmoor Insane Asylum from where it was unlikely that she would ever emerge.

  ‘I assume from what you say that Miss Hartop has been taken ill,’ said Mina, ‘but is there any reason to suspect she has been poisoned?’

  Richard rubbed his eyes and nodded. ‘She had some appointments this afternoon, and when she didn’t come to the shop Beckler asked me to go and see if she was coming. She only lives about ten minutes’ walk away; they have one of those big townhouses on the seafront. So I went there and all the house was in a terrible uproar. I spoke to Mr Hartop — he really is the most agreeable fellow — and he was extremely miserable, but he was very forthcoming and told me what had happened. It seems that after today’s luncheon she ate another of the chocolates and almost at once complained that it was burning her. He thinks that she only swallowed about half of it. Next minute she was taken dreadfully ill, and they called in Dr McClelland. He was there when I arrived. He has taken charge of the remaining chocolates and they are to be sent to a chemist to be tested for poison. Everyone in the house ate the same luncheon and no one else was ill, so it is thought that if an
ything was wrong it was the chocolates. And to think I might have had one and eaten all of it. Has that Miss Edmunds escaped from the asylum and is trying her horrid business again?’

  Mina squeezed his hand comfortingly. ‘I doubt it. But someone might have been inspired by her example. Do you know who gave Miss Hartop the chocolates?’

  Richard shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t see who it was. I had gone to the storeroom to get a frame for a customer, and when I came back, I was told that a messenger boy had come in and left them on the counter saying they were for Lady Brighthelm. No one thought anything of it at the time.’

  ‘We must hope the lady recovers,’ said Mina, wondering if Richard would be ordered by his mother to leave photography as too dangerous a profession. She thought of all the poisons Mr Beckler kept in the darkroom, and that reminded her of her one visit there. This in turn suggested where she might obtain further information. ‘Now then, my dear, you are looking very hot and rumpled. You must make sure to wash your face and brush your hair and put on a fresh cravat before dinner or you will never hear the end of it.’

  Richard nodded gloomily, and though he was fresher of appearance at the dinner table he was unusually quiet. Louisa Scarletti had by now heard rumours of further ghost pictures in Brighton, all of them emanating from Mr Beckler’s studio. She was torn between praising the skill and acumen of the young photographer, declaring what a fine thing it was for Richard’s career which would undoubtedly lead him to making his fortune, and an unspoken jealousy that she had not been alone in receiving this special favour. She had not seen the other pictures in question but had decided in her own mind that hers was both the first and the finest. If she had read the letter from the Soules brothers, she had chosen to ignore it.