The Cyanide Ghost (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 6)

by Linda Stratmann

  ‘He also told me that you are a great enemy to spirit mediums; that you do all that lies in your power to harm their work and put a stop to their séances. I recalled then reading in the newspapers last year that you had given evidence at the trial of some mediums, but that the persons concerned were making money out of people by fraudulent means. I did not think you could be an enemy to my daughter, as she does not seek any reward.’

  ‘I do not regard myself as an enemy to mediums,’ said Mina. ‘I am an enemy to those who use deception to profit from another’s grief. The mediums I denounced in court had already been publicly exposed as frauds, so mine was not the only word against them — there were many witnesses — but Mr Hope continues to believe in them despite abundant proof of their crimes.’

  ‘He told me that you are a materialist,’ said Mr Hartop, accusingly, ‘that you believe only in what you see or hear or touch or what science can prove. That you deny the world of the spirit.’

  ‘I go to church, Mr Hartop. I read the Bible and I pray. I do not deny the world of the spirit. My mind is open. If I were to receive a message from my late father which I knew could only come from him, then I would welcome it.’

  Mr Hartop hesitated, as if bracing himself. ‘He went on to advise me in the strongest possible terms that any friendship between my daughter and your family must cease at once. He suggested that you were a danger to her. In fact —’ he took a deep breath — ‘he asked me if I could be quite certain that you and your brother were not behind the attempt on my daughter’s life.’

  Mina was momentarily speechless. Thus far, the conversation had proceeded much as she had expected, but she now quite suddenly understood her visitor’s reluctance to eat or drink the refreshments he had been offered. ‘I hardly know how to answer that,’ she said at last. ‘I can give you verbal assurances, of course, that neither I nor my brother have had any thought of causing harm to your daughter, but I understand that since we have only just met, you must weigh what I say against the pronouncements of Mr Hope. But we will cease the association if that is any comfort to you.’

  Mr Hartop nodded. He gazed at Mina for some moments, then abruptly rose and paced about the room. At last he turned to face her, with fresh resolve in his expression. ‘I will tell you something of myself, Miss Scarletti, so that you will better understand me. I started my working life very young, as a boot-boy in a hotel where my father was doorman. Through diligence I achieved better employment over time. As a young man, and newly married, my wife and I became housekeepers at a Brighton lodging house. But I had ambitions, and I could see where the real opportunities lay. We led a frugal life, accumulated some modest savings, and eventually I was able to purchase a small house which was in a very dilapidated state. Over many months I became builder, carpenter, decorator, whatever was required of me, to restore the house to good condition in order that I might let it. And with that income, I was eventually able to buy another property, and restore that one, and so it went on, until you see me now, a man of substance, every bit of it of my own making, much of it from my own hands’ labour.

  ‘I have met many people in my business life, honest men and flagrant cheats, rich and poor, high and low, and I have learned to judge them, not by their monetary worth or any position they might have inherited, but by their characters, the way they treat others. And one thing I will not tolerate is someone, however wealthy, however important, however noble, who sees fit to come to me at my home and give me orders as to what I may or may not do.’ With that, Mr Hartop returned to his seat, picked up his tea, and drained the cup almost at a gulp.

  ‘Thank you for your trust in me,’ said Mina, although she was sure the tea drinking was just a gesture, as she had already drunk two cups.

  ‘Mr Hope’s insinuations were nothing short of malicious,’ Mr Hartop continued. ‘I can tell you now that I was horrified, not only by his words, but the manner in which he delivered them. I pointed out to him that the chocolates were not a gift from you but were brought to the shop by a messenger boy, who is currently being sought by the police. Mr Hope demanded a description of the boy, but I informed him that the only person who saw him was a customer in the shop who is also being sought to give evidence. When he asked who saw the customer, I was obliged to say that it was your brother.

  ‘At that, Mr Hope laughed. He declared that it was all a trick; a story invented by you, as he does not believe your brother to be capable of devising such a clever deception. In his opinion, there was no messenger boy and no customer. He claimed that you poisoned the chocolates and gave them to your brother to leave on the counter when no one else was present, and then schooled him to tell the story of the customer and the boy. I tried to protest that this was all speculation, but Mr Hope was not to be interrupted in his denouncements. He then, on a sudden thought, told me that the last time he had encountered you he had been taken very ill, and at the time he had put it down to a bad bottle of brandy, but that now he was not so sure.’

  Mina hoped that Mr Hartop would not notice any change in her expression, or if he did, he would simply view it as her natural alarm at the mere idea. In this instance, Mr Hope was correct on more than one point, since he had been dangerously ill after drinking brandy during his visit to Hollow House the previous January, and he had been poisoned. Richard had been suffering from a toothache, and Dr Hamid had given him some drops with instructions to rub a little on his gums to deaden the pain. When Mr Hope inexplicably lapsed into unconsciousness, Richard confessed that he had added the drops to that gentleman’s glass of brandy. His intention was to place Mr Hope in a sound sleep, thus preventing him from pressing his unwanted attentions on Nellie. Only Dr Hamid’s swift action had saved the man’s life.

  ‘When I was able to get a word in,’ said Mr Hartop, ‘I protested to Mr Hope that he had no evidence that you even had poison, but he said that there was a packet of white arsenic in the darkroom at Mr Beckler’s shop, and he knew that you had been in there. He then announced that he would go to the police and let them know of his suspicions. And then he departed.

  ‘When I next visited Hannah, I found that she had heard the loud conversation and she demanded to know what had been said. I had the choice of upsetting her by repeating the information or upsetting her by withholding it. I chose the former, as she was becoming very agitated. She said she was sure that neither of you would want to do such a terrible thing to anyone, least of all herself, and she begged me to go and see you so you could be warned about what Mr Hope was saying about you. I have no doubt that he will be repeating his slanders in private to his friends.’

  ‘I am very grateful to you, Mr Hartop,’ said Mina, warmly. ‘You ought to know that Mr Hope has made previous attempts to discredit me without success. He cannot bear any opposition to his views, and his response is to try and crush his opponents by any means at his disposal. I expected that he might make another attempt on his return to Brighton, although I did not know how. At least now I know the nature of his actions. I assume he will not publish these accusations generally about town, and in any statement to the police he will have disguised them as merely the suspicions of a concerned citizen. Anything further and I promise you he will find himself in court.’

  Mr Hartop nodded his agreement but with an expression of deep misery flooding his eyes. ‘The one thing I cannot deny is that the poison was meant for my daughter, no one else. And think as I might, I cannot imagine why anyone might want to harm her. She is such a kind-hearted, well-meaning, inoffensive soul.’

  ‘Do the police have any theories?’

  ‘No, they have interviewed all the family and talked to her friends, but if there are no clues, no apparent motive, what can they do? Can it be the work of another Miss Edmunds, in which case no one is safe? I believe that lady went into shops and left poisoned sweets behind, caring nothing for who ate them. And she sent poisoned food to notables in the town.’ He sighed. ‘I rather think, when all is done, it will be proven to be the work of a m
aniac. A jealous person, perhaps. Or a man disappointed in love who dislikes all single ladies. Perhaps the police think that, too, in which case they must be waiting for another crime.’

  ‘We must hope the culprit is caught soon,’ said Mina, ‘and before anyone else can fall victim.’

  ‘At least I am now on my guard, and will protect my daughter at all costs,’ he said, sitting up and squaring his shoulders as if for battle.

  ‘Might I ask you about the spirit photograph, Mr Hartop?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Do you believe the spirit portrayed is that of your late wife?’

  He gave this question careful thought before he answered. ‘I can only say that I see no reason why it should not be she.’

  ‘Do you have a photograph for comparison?’

  ‘Regrettably, no. My dear wife passed away some twenty years ago. The only images we have are those that we hold in our memories of her.’

  ‘Thank you for your openness, Mr Hartop. I will advise my brother that he ought not to visit your house again, at least while the criminal remains free. The visits were under the instructions of Mr Beckler who must be advised of the situation. And please do accept my warmest wishes for Miss Hartop’s full recovery to good health. If I have anything further to impart, would you permit me to write to you?’

  ‘Yes, please do. And I will let you know of anything I learn in the matter.’

  The interview ended with expressions of goodwill from both parties.

  Mina was left wondering what she might do about Mr Hope’s insinuations, but there seemed to be nothing she could do but wait and see if he dared stoop to slander or worse. She reminded herself of his many ardent supporters, even in Brighton. It would be hard, if matters turned only on the spoken word, to prove a case.

  When Richard returned from work, Mina was obliged to tell him what had transpired, but as he reeled from the information, she added a stern warning to take no action against Mr Hope, since anything other than ignoring him might attract more suspicion.

  ‘If the delivery boy could only be found!’ she exclaimed. ‘The boys who ran errands for Miss Edmunds were discovered easily enough. Or perhaps it was not one of the usual messengers but a young relative sworn to silence or bribed. And the gentleman customer. Where is he? Can you recall anything at all about him? His age, perhaps? Old, young, middling?’

  Richard shrugged. ‘Middling, I suppose. I mean, not a boy but then not an old man.’

  ‘There was nothing unusual in his appearance?’

  ‘No. I can’t recall anything of his features at all. I didn’t really study him. Why would I?’

  Mina tried to recall anything she knew about the customer. ‘You said he asked to see a larger picture frame than the ones you had in the shop. That would be an expensive item?’

  ‘Well, yes, but we didn’t have one of the size he wanted.’

  ‘What size was that?’

  ‘I can’t remember. I don’t think he said a size. Just bigger than the ones we had.’

  ‘He didn’t bring a picture he needed framing?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But he looked well able to afford the expense?’

  ‘Oh, yes, he —’ Richard pondered this. ‘Now you mention it, I suppose he was well-dressed and groomed. Not short of a shilling or two. I did wonder why he had come to us and not to Mr Mayall.’

  ‘Perhaps he had already been to Mayall’s and not found what he wanted. But I am sure the police will be asking at all the photographer’s shops in Brighton, so they should find him eventually, and then Mr Hope’s theories will be proven false.’

  ‘Perhaps the fellow was a ghost, and he has vanished?’

  Mina gave him hard look. ‘He might as well be. And in the meantime, it would be best if you did not visit Miss Hartop again. You must tell Mr Beckler that this has been agreed with her father, and when Mr Hope next comes to the shop, arrange to be somewhere out of his way. I shall not be content until he has left Brighton.’

  Richard had no difficulty in agreeing to Mina’s suggestions.

  ‘I suppose it was inevitable that he would come to Brighton to visit his disciples,’ she added drily. ‘I can only hope that his stay will not be long, and he will not outrage decency while he is here.’

  ‘I think he might be here for some weeks,’ said Richard. ‘He is planning to give a series of lectures at the Town Hall. Actually, I think Beckler is dreading his visit more than you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ demanded Mina, surprised. ‘He worships the ground the man treads on. He revels in his favour. Mr Beckler is a leading warrior in Mr Hope’s army, engaged to destroy all his enemies.’

  ‘Not all, surely,’ Richard hinted, but Mina refused to be drawn. ‘Well, it’s mostly true, I mean the admiration, but sometimes I think Beckler is frightened of him.’

  ‘If he isn’t, he certainly ought to be,’ said Mina. ‘If he doesn’t toady up to Mr Hope and do his bidding, he will be thrown aside, or even ruined. Well, that is his choice, and he must live with it.’

  ‘We’re expecting Hope back at the shop very soon,’ said Richard. ‘Beckler insists it is scoured daily, so I have become a maid of all work and a destroyer of dust. Have no fear, I will take care to hide my cuffs from Mother. But it is not all bad. Beckler wants to take a picture of his illustrious patron leading his expedition through the jungle, so he is buying a big curtain and a lot of paint, and I am to start on a backdrop as soon as we have them. And the new window display…’ He paused.

  ‘Don’t tell me; I can imagine it. Heaps of books.’

  ‘Mina, dear, I think it would be better if you didn’t come to the shop while Mr Hope is in Brighton. You don’t want to risk meeting with him again and having another quarrel.’

  ‘Especially as losing to a woman makes him so angry,’ said Mina. ‘But rest assured I have no reason to go to the shop again, and will stay well away from it, and Mr Hope and Mr Beckler too. In fact, I would wish them both to live on the other side of the world, as far away from me as they can be. If I could send them to the moon, I would do so. But when Mr Hope found you working there, he must have objected on my account? Did he not demand that you should be dismissed?’

  On considering this possibility, Mina found that she was divided within herself. While she was unhappy that Richard was working for a man she detested, the situation did have its advantages. First of all, there was the important fact that Richard actually had regular paid employment in a respectable business that did not have to be concealed from their mother, a situation that had not always been the case in the past. It also meant that he was an avenue of information as to what Mr Beckler and Mr Hope were plotting, and therefore a means of keeping herself forewarned and forearmed against her enemy.

  Richard gave one of his airy, confident smiles. ‘Oh no, Beckler said I was not to worry about that. Whatever you might think, he is still very sweet on you, Mina, and I think he will do what he can to advance me for your sake. In fact, I rather think one of the reasons he employed me was to get to know you better. But of course —’ he gave himself a proud pat on the chest — ‘I am indispensable to his business now. It’s not only the backdrop painting. I thought I would try my hand at tinting photographs to colour eyes and hair and gowns, and make the ladies look generally prettier. It doesn’t really work with gentlemen, of course, and babies always look hideous whatever you do. Anyhow, I undertook some and he liked what I did, and thinks that it will be a great novelty.’

  ‘As long as he doesn’t ask you to paint ghosts,’ said Mina, although she did not mean it seriously.

  Richard raised his eyebrows.

  ‘He hasn’t asked you to do that, has he?’ she said, in sudden concern.

  ‘No,’ said Richard, thoughtfully, ‘but now you mention it, I can see how that could be done.’

  ‘As an amusement, perhaps, a novelty like those ugly caricatures of people with large heads, but not to be sold as genuine, to delude and defraud customers,�
�� Mina warned him. ‘Richard, please promise me you won’t do any work of that sort. In fact, whatever happens, you must not get involved in anything to do with producing or selling or advertising ghost pictures. Especially after that letter from the Soules brothers. You don’t want to end up in court like Mr Mumler. I am hoping that that letter will put paid to the whole thing, and Mr Beckler will be obliged to avoid arrest by returning to his less controversial trade.’

  Richard gave her a sulky look as he always did when he felt she was spoiling his fun.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Mina was left with a puzzle. Mr Hartop’s words still echoed in her head, and when she thought about them, she had to agree, there was no obvious reason why anyone should wish serious harm to Miss Hartop. While the crime had nothing to do with Mina or Richard, she hoped it would be solved soon, to put an end to Mr Hope’s ridiculous insinuations. Was it simply the random act of a maniac, she wondered, or could there be some reason behind it? Murders — and this was undoubtedly an attempt at murder — were usually committed for the old reasons of love and money. If removing Miss Hartop would elevate another person to a rich legacy, that would be a good motive, but Mr Hartop would surely know if that was so and would have told the police. Did Miss Hartop stand in the way of another person’s affections? Did the ardent Septimus Clover have an admirer jealous of his visits to the medium? That was a possibility, and a situation Mr Hartop would have known nothing about.

  Mina turned to the Brighton Directory, where she found W Clover and Sons, Architects and Surveyors, Upper North Street Brighton. Mr Hartop had said that young Septimus was from a good family, but he had hinted at something else, something about them with which he was not entirely comfortable. She examined the lists of burials in the Extra Mural Cemetery and found only one under that name, a Mrs Elizabeth Clover, in 1867.

  Septimus Clover was clearly not the gentleman who had asked for the picture frame and seen the messenger boy bring the chocolates. From Mr Hartop’s description he was too young, and in any case, Richard would have recognised him. Mina toyed briefly with the idea of Mr Clover adopting a disguise, either as the unknown gentleman or even the messenger boy, but dismissed both ideas as the stuff of fiction, the kind of ploy that worked so much better on the pages of a novel than it did in reality. Disguise, as her friend the popular actor Marcus Merridew had told her, was an art requiring many years to perfect. An attempt by an amateur with badly fitting wigs and false beards would produce results both unconvincing and laughable.