The Cyanide Ghost (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 6)

by Linda Stratmann

  He smiled and made a detailed note. ‘I have already seen Veale’s accounts. Your name is not included. The main sales of chocolate creams are vanilla. The violet and rose are fortunately fewer. But I feel as if I have traced every single violet cream in Brighton, including a small box Mrs Veale herself gave to Lady Brighthelm only a week ago. Every single one has either been consumed without harm, or if not, has been examined and found to be untampered with.’

  ‘And you have not discovered the delivery boy or the man who was in the shop when the delivery was made?’

  ‘I regret not, although of course our enquiries continue. It is very possible that the customer was a visitor to Brighton who has since left.’

  ‘I would have thought that after the case of Miss Edmunds, an anonymous delivery of chocolates would be a memorable event,’ said Mina.

  ‘It certainly would. Of course, Miss Edmunds did repeat her purchases and draw attention to herself, which is not the case here.’

  ‘After her first attempt on Mrs Beard, Miss Edmunds did not care whom she poisoned. This person may have wanted to poison only Lady Brighthelm and having succeeded will not offend again.’

  ‘I sincerely hope not, although I am sorry to say it would make my task easier if she, or possibly he, did. We don’t want to alarm the public, but since there have already been rumours of a second Miss Edmunds it would do no harm and some good to issue a police warning notice in the newspapers.’

  ‘You said that Mrs Veale brought a gift to Lady Brighthelm?’

  ‘Yes, chocolates, all of which were eaten.’

  ‘But they were in a box, not a bag?’ asked Mina, recalling the pretty boxes she had seen in Veale’s shop window.

  ‘Yes, a decorative pasteboard box. We saw it amongst the trinkets and gewgaws on the medium’s table. Once the chocolates were eaten, she used it for the little gifts of coins some of the customers pressed on her.’

  Mina ruminated on this. ‘Then is it possible that the customers who came to consult her might have noticed the box, and could have guessed that she might enjoy a gift of chocolates, and Veale’s violet creams in particular?’

  Inspector Gibbs paused and stared at Mina.

  ‘I am sorry,’ said Mina, ‘I have no wish to offend you. It is not my place to question you, rather the other way around. I am sure this is something you have already considered.’

  ‘Er — yes,’ he said, thoughtfully. ‘You have not consulted Lady Brighthelm, I believe?’

  ‘I have not. I think it would be easy to confirm that.’

  ‘And neither has your brother?’

  ‘No. The lady was somewhat sweet on him, and had he done so we would never have heard the end of it.’

  Inspector Gibbs smiled and closed his notebook.

  Once the policeman had departed, Mina reflected that during the interview no mention had been made of Mr Hope, which was probably to the good. She was left with the feeling that she would no longer be the subject of police enquiries, and it was an extremely fortunate thing that she had purchased vanilla and not violet creams and had Nellie as a witness to the fact.

  Richard had mentioned that violet creams were a particular favourite of Miss Hartop, but only a limited number of people might have known this and deduced that Miss Hartop and Lady Brighthelm were one and the same. The presence of Veale’s chocolate box on the medium’s table, however, opened up further possibilities.

  ‘I had a visit from Inspector Gibbs today,’ said Mina, when Richard returned home.

  ‘Oh? What was that about?’

  ‘I think he wanted to assess me as a suspect in the attempted murder of Miss Hartop,’ said Mina. ‘Fortunately, I have never purchased Veale’s violet creams, and can prove it. He tells me he has not been able to locate either the delivery boy or the gentleman who saw him, so we do not even have a description to go by. Do you recall if the gentleman had ever consulted Lady Brighthelm?’

  ‘I don’t think I had ever seen him in the shop before.’

  ‘If he was a visitor to town, he may never be found.’

  Richard shrugged. ‘Even if you found the man, how would he recall a delivery boy? People don’t usually notice delivery boys. Especially as he had such bad eyes.’

  ‘Bad eyes?’ queried Mina.

  ‘When I showed him the catalogue, he squinted at it.’ Richard demonstrated by squeezing up his face to indicate extreme short-sightedness. ‘The man needed spectacles.’

  ‘You didn’t mention that before.’

  ‘Didn’t I? Perhaps not. No one asked me about his eyesight. Everyone just asked me what he looked like.’

  ‘Well, since you have remembered something new, I think you ought to tell the police,’ said Mina.

  ‘I suppose so. But it wouldn’t help much, would it, though? If the man was half-blind, he wouldn’t be of any use at all in identifying a delivery boy.’

  Mina was obliged to agree. ‘But you said the man was well-dressed. If he needed glasses so badly, why did he not have any?’

  ‘Maybe he had broken them,’ Richard offered.

  ‘Whether or not he can describe the delivery boy, if we could only find him then we could refute at least one of Mr Hope’s insinuations. He says the man doesn’t exist at all.’ Mina sighed. ‘I really do fear that Mr Hope isn’t going to stop. If he can’t discredit me one way, he will only try another.’

  Mina was surprised to receive another letter from Mr Inskip, advising her that he was due to come to Brighton on business for a day, and would like to talk to her. He would arrive next morning on the early train and refresh himself with tea at the Grand Hotel at 10 a.m. before going to his appointment and would be most obliged if she would join him for a conversation.

  Mina was extremely curious to know what he was about to reveal, especially as he was deliberately choosing not to come to her house, which rather implied that he did not want her mother to be present. She responded at once, accepting the invitation.

  When Mina arrived at the Grand Hotel, she found that Mr Inskip had already ordered a pot of tea for her and coffee for himself, with a selection of buns and sandwiches, the bread cut so thin it hardly seemed to be there at all.

  ‘Mr Inskip, I do hope nothing is the matter?’ asked Mina as she took her seat. ‘Are Enid and the children well?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he reassured her, cheerfully, ‘they are all very well indeed. Babies are so tiny and delicate, are they not, but they do grow and thrive!’ He poured tea and coffee for them both, and moved the cut-glass cake stand so that she could more easily reach it. ‘You may wonder what business has brought me to Brighton,’ he said. ‘Well, it is a matter of some importance. When I was in Romania, I was so enthusiastic in telling the Count about the delights of Sussex, and the healthy fresh air of Brighton that he thought he might like to come and live here when he has sold his estate. I have just received a letter from him asking if I might look out for something suitable.’

  ‘What is his name?’ asked Mina. ‘I have to say your description of his person and property reminded me of the terrors of what Mr Horace Walpole called “The Gothic Novel”, the kind of fiction that Mother always says she would never allow in the house and has to keep secretly under her pillow.’

  Mr Inskip smiled. When he did so, his face became more animated, and his weathered features, amused eyes and bristling beard made his face not as displeasing as it had once seemed. ‘Oh, Count Andrey is a gentle soul, very quiet and pious. There is nothing sinister about him, I am sure.’

  Mina wondered what a novelist might make of Count Andrey. Something in the nature of the old serial story Varney the Vampire, which still enjoyed some popularity. A new title, The Sussex Vampire had something of a ring to it. She took out her little notebook and pencil and made a quick jotting. ‘If he does make his new home here, my mother will insist on an introduction,’ she said.

  ‘I am sure she will,’ said Mr Inskip. ‘However, that is not the reason I have asked to speak to you. You may have read in t
he press that Mr Arthur Wallace Hope has announced a new series of lectures in connection with his forthcoming book Africa Awaits. I believe he is in Brighton at present and will begin his tour here before moving about the country. He seems to think that Africa is an excellent opportunity for trade and investment. I happened to mention this to my dear Enid since I know she has read some of his earlier works, and asked if she would like to accompany me to his lecture when he comes to London, and she became — well, I can hardly describe her reaction. She was extremely unhappy at the suggestion but would not say why. And then I recalled that your mother said that Mr Hope had a reputation but would not say any more on the subject. I was hoping that you would enlighten me. I would not wish to unwittingly do anything that would affect Enid’s happiness.’

  Mina toyed with a lacy biscuit for a while. ‘Mr Hope has a strong liking for the company of attractive ladies. He appears to prefer married ladies. Last year, when he was in Brighton, he was obliged to leave town very quickly to avoid a scandal. It involved the wife of a respectable gentleman, a partner in a professional practice, and caused considerable talk. The gentleman in question gave up his business, and I believe he and his wife have both removed to Scotland. I feel sure that that was what my mother was referring to.’

  Mr Inskip had raised his coffee cup to his lips but lowered it unsipped. ‘Good heavens! I had only heard that he was very charming and sociable, but I had no idea of this fault in his character.’

  ‘Last January I was visiting the Honeyacres in Ditchling Hollow together with a great friend of mine, Mrs Jordan, whose husband is a partner in Jordan and Conroy ladies’ fashions. Mr Hope arrived at the house unexpectedly and had the audacity to send a love note to Mrs Jordan in an attempt to arrange an assignation. The implications were all too clear. She was naturally disgusted with his behaviour. Some of the gentlemen present were alerted to the situation and spoke very severely to him. He was so disappointed that he drank a great deal of brandy and was so much under its influence that he was incapable of annoying her further. Soon after he had recovered, he left.’

  ‘How appalling!’ Mr Inskip exclaimed. ‘And how distressing for you that you should have been present to witness such things.’ He paused and suddenly went pale. ‘You say that Mr Hope has a preference for married ladies. And he caused a scandal in Brighton last year. Was that during the time when I was abroad, and Enid was staying here?’

  Mina chose her words carefully. ‘It was, but I can assure you that Mr Hope did not bother her with any unwanted attentions.’

  Mr Inskip made a great exhalation. ‘I am relieved to hear it. If he had dared to offer such an insult to my dear Enid, I would have torn him apart with my bare hands.’ He made the appropriate gesture and uttered a little growl.

  ‘You are as fierce as the wolves you admire,’ said Mina.

  He smiled, baring his teeth. ‘I like to think so, just a little. They are strong, savage yet noble creatures. They defend their own.’

  Mina wondered if she might write a story in which a man was scratched or bitten by a wolf and acquired wolflike characteristics. Mr Inskip produced a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to his brow, then refreshed himself with more coffee. Mina used the pause in the conversation to make another note in her little book.

  ‘I am very grateful to you for that information,’ said Mr Inskip. ‘I will take care to avoid the company of Mr Hope in future, and of course I will not mention his name to Enid again.’

  ‘That is very wise,’ said Mina.

  ‘But — didn’t I see that scoundrel’s picture in the window of the shop in Ship Street? The photographers?’

  ‘Yes, he is the patron of the owner, Mr Beckler. He is interested in the ghost portraits.’

  ‘And your brother works for him?’

  ‘He must make his way in the world somehow, and it has not been easy for him to find employment.’

  Mr Inskip shook his head. He offered Mina the last of the sandwiches and when she declined, he ate them and glanced at his watch. ‘And now, I must depart. I am seeing Mr Samprey about some properties very shortly.’

  ‘Mr Samprey?’

  ‘Yes, Charles Samprey. Do you know him?’

  ‘Only by name,’ said Mina.

  ‘He is a partner in one of the premium property businesses in Brighton. They have an office on West Street, not two minutes’ walk from here. They are currently offering a manor house for sale, which I think might do very well for the Count. I am hoping to take a look at it.’

  ‘Where is that?’

  ‘In Rottingdean. I thought the Count, being used to a rural life, would prefer something quiet and genteel rather than the bustle of town. The village has a handsome windmill and a very pretty church.’

  ‘That sounds delightful. I should like to see that,’ said Mina. ‘I don’t suppose I could accompany you?’

  Mr Inskip appeared surprised by the request. ‘Well, it is good weather for a carriage ride. I am sure Mr Samprey won’t mind.’

  They walked to West Street, where a smart office front was painted in crisp dark green with gilded lettering, Samprey and Sons. They were greeted by a youthful gentleman at the front desk who bore the earnest look of someone who accepted his junior status without difficulty and wished to appear desperately keen to learn from his seniors. Mr Inskip announced his arrival for an appointment with Mr Charles Samprey.

  ‘You are expected, please come this way.’ The young clerk glanced quizzically at Mina.

  ‘This is my sister-in-law, Miss Scarletti,’ said Mr Inskip. It was very apparent that the youth recognised her name. Mr Inskip turned to Mina. ‘Would you like to wait here for me?’

  There was no reason for Mina to attend the business meeting and she agreed. A comfortable chair and some reading matter were provided, and Mr Inskip was conducted to an office further back in the building.

  The young clerk returned to his desk, but he continued to observe Mina. ‘It is a warm day,’ he said. ‘Would you like me to bring you a glass of water?’

  ‘Thank you, yes,’ said Mina.

  He scurried about, fetching first a little side table then a carafe and a glass. ‘Are you sufficiently comfortable?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, thank you, I am.’

  He made no move to return to his desk. ‘Might I ask you a question?’

  Mina sipped her water. ‘Please do.’

  ‘Are you Miss Mina Scarletti?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘And Richard Scarletti is your brother?’

  ‘He is. And you are?’

  ‘My name is Clover. Septimus Clover.’

  Mina did her best not to show she knew that name.

  ‘The thing is,’ Mr Clover went on, ‘I have met your brother at Mr Beckler’s shop, although I doubt that he would have mentioned me. But I wanted to ask you —’

  ‘Please sit down,’ said Mina, since he was hovering over her nervously.

  ‘Yes, thank you, of course.’ He drew up a chair. ‘I was wondering if you had any news of Lady Brighthelm, the medium? I had consulted her once or twice, but when I went to the shop again, I was told that she was indisposed, but no one would tell me anything more, and there have been the most dreadful rumours in town.’

  ‘I would strongly advise you to take no notice of gossip,’ said Mina. ‘It is almost always more sensational than the truth.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I agree. But do you know if she is recovered? Will she resume her calling again?’

  ‘My only information is that she is very much improved in health, but it seems very unlikely that she will take up mediumship again.’

  He gave a disappointed sigh. ‘I can’t even write to her. I asked Mr Beckler if he would pass a note to her, but he said he could not.’

  ‘Might I ask you a question, Mr Clover?’

  ‘Yes, of course, anything!’ he said eagerly.

  ‘Is your intention towards Lady Brighthelm one of courtship?’

  His expression of astonishment told
Mina all she needed to know. ‘No, I —’

  ‘I am sorry to have asked such a question, but you must be aware that the usual reason that young gentlemen wish to pass notes to ladies is to further a romance.’

  ‘Well, that is as maybe, but that thought never occurred to me. I know nothing of the lady, except judging by her voice she is of foreign extraction. I wish only to consult her as a medium, and I was hoping that even if she intends to retire, she might relent one last time for me.’

  ‘There are other mediums in town,’ Mina observed.

  ‘I know, and I have consulted several, but she is the only one who is able to receive messages that convince me that she is in direct contact. I — I don’t wish to say any more on that subject.’ He looked very despondent.

  Mina said nothing but waited in the hope that he might be tempted to speak further, but at that moment another client arrived, and he was obliged to return to his duties.

  Mina pretended to be absorbed in her reading matter, which was a pile of leaflets describing properties for sale, but her conversation with Mr Clover had given her food for thought. If he was being truthful, then he had no romantic inclinations towards Lady Brighthelm, was not aware of her true identity and had no wish to do her harm.

  Another gentleman arrived asking to see Mr Charles Samprey and sat waiting for him to be available. There was no further opportunity to speak to Mr Clover alone.

  After a few minutes the office door opened, and Mr Inskip emerged, with a gentleman who Mina felt sure she had seen before. It took only a moment for her to recall the circumstances. He was the man she had seen in the Extra Mural Cemetery paying his respects at the Samprey monument. They both approached the desk. Samprey passed over some documents.

  ‘Clover, could you call a cab and take Mr Inskip to Rottingdean so he can take a look at the old parsonage? Do accompany him and make a note of any questions. I’ll send Bentley to take charge of the desk.’ He took no notice of Mina but turned to the new arrival, greeted him and conducted him to the office.

  A cab was soon procured and as they left the office to board it, Mina noticed a figure lurking on the corner of the street. A man was standing there peering at them, and very quickly withdrew and turned away as if not wanting to be seen. Once settled in the cab, Mina looked out of the window. The figure had advanced a little more, and she could now recognise him. His name was Stevenson and he was the private detective who Mr Jordan had hired to spy on Nellie, sending him to watch over her at Hollow House last January with a pair of binocular glasses. His guise of being an expert in natural history writing a book about the flora and fauna of Sussex had not been especially convincing, especially as he was terrified of spiders.