Murder Begets Murder

by Roderic Jeffries

  After a while, he reached over for the telephone directory and searched through it to find out how to make an international call. Then, making certain he had ready the telephone number of the Bearstone County Constabulary HQ, he dialled the international exchange, got the carry­ on tone, and dialled the English number.

  A woman answered and he asked for Detective-Inspector Fletcher, adding that this was an international call so could she be as quick as possible.

  As he waited, he pictured the detective-inspector, immaculately presented, the embodiment of smart efficiency. On his face would be the self-confident, vaguely patronizing and superior expression which could so annoy an ignorant foreigner who hadn’t had the advantage of having been born an Englishman . . .

  ‘Fletcher speaking.’

  ‘Good morning, señor. This is Enrique Alvarez.’

  ‘Hullo, there. How are you? And how’s the weather with you?’

  ‘Very hot and sunny for the time of year.’

  ‘Really? It’s raining here.’ Somehow he managed to suggest that rain was to be preferred, if it fell in England.

  ‘Señor, do you remember that when I was in England we discussed the case of Señora Heron? She was the wife of . . .’

  ‘Died from mytilotoxin poisoning after eating a large quantity of mussels. Spanish mussels.’

  How in the name of hell did the man remember everything? ‘Señor, I have to tell you now that I think perhaps her death was not accidental. The poison aconite . . .’ There was a short, sarcastic laugh. ‘I’ll give you full marks for perseverance, old man, but I really do think you’ll have to return to the facts. You seem to be forgetting that there was a post-mortem, conducted by Professor Keen. Naturally, I can’t say what goes on in other countries although one gains a rough idea at times, but here we can place complete reliance on the findings of a pathologist. There’s no question but that Mrs Heron died from mytilotoxin poisoning.’

  ‘Indeed, and it was never my intention to question the findings of one of your eminent pathologists. It was of Señor Heron’s illness I was going to speak. You will understand that it is only with diffidence I ask this, but did you ever request that tests be made to discover exactly from what form of poisoning the señor had suffered?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It occurred to me that perhaps if he had deliberately secured a supply of mussels from a place such as South Darkpoint, where they are known to become poisonous during the breeding season, and had he fed these to his wife in order to kill her, he would have been reluctant to eat the mussels himself as he would not have known how many might prove fatal to him. So might he not have made certain what was a non-fatal dose of aconite and taken that, since the symptoms of the two illnesses are so similar? . . . But knowing how superbly you managed the case, I thought that almost certainly you could assure me the test had been made so that this possibility should be immediately forgotten.’

  There was a long silence. Alvarez leaned forward to refill his glass. The gecko suddenly scampered into sight round the corner of the window and he winked at it.

  THE END