A Poisonous Journey

by Malia Zaidi

  "Ah, yes. I spoke to the inspector yesterday already. I had to change one of the tires this morning, so …" he gives me a smile, but I can see muscles of his bare forearms and in his neck tensing and his grip around the sponge tightening, sudsy water dripping from his fingers. He may just be uneasy. He clearly doesn’t like to chat, and knowing a man has been murdered in the vicinity is something that might set the noblest man on edge. Nonetheless, I have the eerie feeling there is something not quite right. A I have noted before, my imagination is not of the idle sort.

  "I am ever so relieved we all," I emphasize this, "have alibis. It would be terrible if the police were to suspect any one of us living here." A look of panic enters his eyes, and though he quickly tries to appear normal, I am certain I saw it. It makes me nervous, and I have to steel myself not to take a step away.

  "Yes, yes. Very good." He looks at the car and the sponge, clenched in his fist dripping onto the gravel, turning it stormcloud gray.

  "Well, I shan’t take up any more of your time. Goodbye then."

  "Goodbye, Miss Carlisle."

  As I turn to walk to the house, I feel his eyes following me, boring into the back of my head. Inside again, I quickly close the door, a sense of relief mingling with growing anxiety. There is something left unsaid bothering me. Yet who am I to interfere, to meddle? Only the unfortunate soul who found the body. I sigh and remove my hat, patting down the stray hairs.

  I glance at the hallway clock, and I find we have been away almost two hours. As if on cue, my stomach grumbles, reminding me that lunch is overdue. I am surprised to have any appetite at all!

  "Evie! Oh good, you made it back safely." Briony rushes at me from the direction of the kitchen. Though she is smiling, I perceive tension in her face.

  "Yes, everything was fine. Are you all right? You look a bit pale."

  Briony, to my surprise, glances around furtively, then grabs me by the hand and pulls me into a small sitting room.

  "What is it? Why are you being so secretive?" I follow along willingly. The room is cool and smells mildly of something floral. I sink into the floral silk settee and become aware of my tired feet still encased in "sensible", low-heeled shoes.

  "Evie, Laria called. She was in such a state!"

  "She called again? Twice in one morning?" Childish, I know, but I can’t resist. Briony doesn’t even blush.

  "Oh, well, you caught me. I wasn’t feeling up to company this morning, so I told a little lie. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone with the men. You’re not angry, are you?" She blinks a few times very rapidly, and I shake my head. I recognize the first signs of imminent tears and certainly don’t want to be the cause.

  "No, not at all. Just teasing. Go on."

  "Right. Well, she called, whispering hysterically. She said you and Daniel told her about what happened. Oh, you should have heard her. You won’t believe this!" Briony’s eyes are wide with barely supressed amazement. I can imagine what she will say and refrain from interjecting, not wanting to spill out the truth in case Laria’s affair isn’t actually the subject she is so desperate to confess.

  "Well?"

  "You mustn’t tell anyone about this, but she told me she and Caspar had an affair! She assured me it was all over by now. I think she merely needed to tell someone. Laria seems to think my morals on these matters are much looser than those of her other friends," she furrows her brow, momentarily displeased.

  "Nonsense, she trusts you, that is why she told you. You are her friend." This buoys her spirits and she straightens.

  "Well, I did tell her I was quite shocked. Which is the truth. Laria and Caspar! It doesn’t seem … well, right. Nikolas is lovely and their daughter, you should see her, such a beautiful child." Briony’s eyes glazed over with a faraway look.

  "Maybe Laria was unhappy? Maybe it was simply a foolish mistake. Either way—"

  "That’s where you’re wrong, Evie, I think she loved him," she interjects.

  "Why would you believe that? Their affair was over, wasn’t it?"

  "Yes, yes," Briony waves this off as inconsequential. "It was the way she spoke, the grief. I tell you, I could almost feel her tears through the telephone receiver! She loved him. I am sure of it. Maybe she still does."

  If Laria’s relationship with Caspar was more serious, it could prove an even greater motive for her husband to be connected to his death. If Nikolas found out, or if she confessed and told him she loved another man, or even that she wanted to leave him … But then why break it off? I have to find out when they ended their liason.

  "Did Laria tell you how long this relationship went on and when it ended?" I try to sound only innocently curious as the wheels spin in my mind.

  "Not long. Only two months. It started almost as soon as Caspar got here and ended a few weeks ago."

  "Hm … so quickly? She might have felt guilty. Her husband appears to be a kind sort of fellow, and at the party, I thought she doted on him."

  "I thought so, too, how deceptive people can be," she shakes her head in confusion.

  I wonder whether I should air my suspicions to Briony, experiencing a tiny stab of guilt for pretending this information is entirely new to me. What if Nikolas knew nothing of the affair? I only hope Dymas speaks to Laria first, and that he understands such delicate matters must be touched with kid gloves.

  "Briony," I finally begin, "I shouldn’t say this, but after I saw Laria’s reaction to Caspar’s death I was confused, and Daniel confessed he was aware of the affair. Now that you also know, we can talk about it without betraying anyone’s trust." Pronouncing this with emphasis as though it is something to be glad about, I wait a moment for the news to sink in. The expression on her open face remains composed.

  "Go on."

  "If her husband knew of the affair, he would has the perfect motive for the murder." Out it is. Briony opens her mouth, then closes it again and shakes her head.

  "No Evie, no, this cannot be. I know them."

  But do you? I want to ask, finding myself hoping her faith in humanity won’t be badly shaken once this is all over. Briony has maintained much of the innocent optimism of her childhood, a precious attitude I hope will remain as long as it can in a world such as this.

  "I am not saying anything is certain, of course. It is only speculation."

  "Why did you have to put such an awful idea into my head, Evie?"

  "Do you not think you might have come to the same conclusion? Besides, even Daniel, who has a good deal of respect for the doctor, agrees it might be possible."

  "Daniel? You said this to Daniel?" Her voice rises, a sign of her distress.

  "You have no need to get so upset. It may be nothing at all—"

  "But if it is true, it will ruin their marriage!" Her outburst stuns me for a brief moment, before I can find the words to reply without causing further distress.

  "Ruin their marriage? If her husband is a murderer, I would say they are already on shaky ground. She had an affair, it must have been less than rosy for some time."

  "They have a child, Evelyn," she narrows her eyes, looking at me in an unfamiliar way. Perhaps I was wrong about her lingering naïveté after all.

  "Briony," I aim to sound calm, though I feel my heart pounding against my chest as I continue, "please, this isn’t my fault. Do you think I want him to be guilty?"

  She shudders and closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, they are glistening. "No, of course not. I’m sorry I got so upset."

  I put an arm around her shoulder, very much the big sister, though in fact I am a few years younger than her, though five inches taller, it should be noted.

  "I do understand. Maybe it’s nothing, but I cannot get the image out of my mind. Until there is resolution … Oh, I don’t know." I brush a strand of hair from my face.

  "This is all too much!" A teardrop splatters onto her salmon linen shift, coloring it crimson.

  "Don’t cry." I soothe, placing a hand on hers. "It will work itself
out. You are not at fault in any of this. None of us can control what other people do. It is a horrible, horrible thing, but Briony, you cannot blame yourself! It is not your fault by any measure."

  "I know." Her voice is small, almost a whisper. "Some days it is as if nothing can motivate me to even get out of bed. And now this has happened and—" her shoulders rise slightly as she takes a deep breath, "and I just can’t … I just can’t …" She doesn’t finish her thought.

  I have been aware that there are problems, still this admission frightens me. I know Briony as a happy person. Smiling, making people laugh, caring and fussing, and being the life and soul anywhere she goes. Looking at her now, mistress of her own home, wife, grown woman, her familar brightness has been dimmed and diluted.

  "It will be all right" I mutter the necessary words of reassurance, feeling I must say something, lest she regret having confided in me. "I am here now. And Jeffrey loves you. You are not alone, and as long as you want me to, I will stay."

  "We’re sisters, aren’t we." Her voice is thick with uncried tears, nonetheless I have to smile. We’re sisters. As children we would introduce ourselves as such. Sisters.

  "Yes, always."

  CHAPTER 9

  Twenty minutes later, I have sent Briony to rest. Her frame of mind worries me. Should I talk to Jeffrey? I don’t want to betray her trust. Surely he must know she is not happy? Still in the sitting room, I lean back on the soft cushions of the armchair. I have borrowed a well-thumbed copy of Emma, and am about to settle in for a nice hour or so of lighthearted reading when I hear someone enter the room. Turning around, craning my neck to arched doorway, I spot Niobe, carrying a tray.

  "Hello." I smile at her. She looks nervous, my company clearly unwelcome.

  "Mr. Farnham said I should bring you some lunch." She approaches slowly and sets the tray on the low table in front of me.

  "Thank you. How kind." I lean forward, hungrily eyeing the small plates of olives, triangular pastries and shards of cheese. "This looks wonderful. Is Mr. Farnham not eating?"

  "He ate when you and Mr. Harper were out."

  "And Daniel, Mr. Harper?"

  "I will bring him a tray as well."

  "Perhaps he will join me. Do you know where he is?"

  "In the conservatory, Miss."

  "Thank you, Niobe." As I look at her before she turns to leave, I notice the pale red rims around her eyes and the dark shadows below them. An instant stab of guilt grips me. I completely forgot to ask after her. The poor girl must be as shocked as any of us. "Niobe?"

  "Yes? Can I get you something else?"

  "No, no, this is perfect," I gesture at the tray. "I was wondering how you are? This has all been a terrible shock, and you knew Mr. Ballantine longer than I did. Are you all right?" It takes her a moment to answer as she stands awkwardly beside the table.

  "I am fine. I did not really know him."

  "Still, it must have been a bad shock." The word hangs in the air, and I wonder at this young woman’s composure. Suddenly, the image of Caspar and her talking away from the group at the dinner party flashes across my mind. She seemed uneasy then, harassed even. Was it simply the old case of upstairs getting too friendly with downstairs, or something more?

  "Is there anything else I can help you with?" There is a hint of impatience her voice.

  "No, thank you for the meal, it looks lovely."

  Niobe nods, turns and hurries from the room. Strange. Of course, she may simply feel disinclined to unburden herself to me, a relative stranger, but I get the sense there is something I cannot place a finger on, that is just not right.

  Sighing, I lift a pastry from the tray, lean back in the chair, and take a satisfying bite. As the savory flavors of spinach, cheese and buttery crust melt in my mouth, I push suspicions from my mind, open my book and wonder if men like Mr. Knightley are merely rare or complete fantasy.

  Briony wakes after her rest looking much better and informs us that we will eat together tonight. These household plans and orchestrations give her something to distract herself, something to make her feel capable. I am now in my room, shedding the wrinkled dress I wore all day, and slipping into a pair of wide navy trousers and a boat-neck blouse. Looking into the mirror, I am quite pleased with my efforts. I run my ebony handled comb through my hair a few times, until it falls in auburn waves an inch or so above my shoulder. Yes, that should do.

  On the landing to the first floor, I momentarily wonder whether I ought to have worn black. As I stand there wavering, a door at the end of the hallway opens, and out comes Daniel in a pale gray suit.

  "Good evening."

  "Good evening. The house smells wonderful, I can only imagine what the cook is going to spirit onto the table for us tonight."

  We descend the stairs in step. "In the time I have been here, the one thing that we could always depend on was good food."

  Apparently this standard will hold, no matter the circumstance. Entering the dining room, we spy a lovely array of small bowls filled with delicacies already on offer. Briony and Jeffrey emerge from the library at that moment.

  "Oh, good, you’re here," Briony leads us to our seats. "I told the cook to prepare something light." It all looks wonderful. The table is too large for the four of us, and we are clustered together at one end, leaving the other half bare and uninhabited tonight.

  "It smells delicious, Briony," Daniel smiles, and Briony looks gratified by his praise. I glance at Jeffrey, he only nods and tucks his specs into the front pocket of his jacket.

  "Right, I thought we could be informal. You don’t mind, do you?"

  "Of course not."

  "Niobe wasn’t well, and I thought we should let her get some rest. We can serve ourselves."

  "Niobe is ill?’ I ask, thinking of her fainting episode right before the last dinner we ate here together. "I spoke with her this afternoon, and she was well."

  "I don’t know. She’s such a quiet one. She was rather pale, and I had the impression she was exhausted, so I sent her to bed."

  "That was kind of you, dear. Now, would you pass me that plate of Keftedes?" Jeffrey sounds weary and slightly impatient.

  Briony places a few of the fried meatballs onto his plate. I wonder whether his tension is due to the crime committed in his garden, his marriage, work anxiety or a combination of the above? Briony appears to be better now, and the soft radiance of the candlelight casts a gentle glow over her.

  "Mm … this is wonderful. I must compliment the cook." I say, between bites of a smooth and spicy eggplant dish, moussaka. As we eat, we talk about mundane things. Despite this, I cannot help but wonder whether our minds are not all circling around the same matter. How can any of us sit here and truly enjoy the food, carefree and happy when the table should have been set for five? Caspar’s seat is empty, and as my eyes wander to it, my appetite disappears. I become suddenly aware that we are all looking at the chair in unified dismay. Almost as one, we set our forks and knives down.

  "I should have known this was a bad idea," Briony looks down at her plate.

  "No Briony, this was a kind thought," Daniel interjects before I think of the right words. "We have to eat, after all." As our attention is on my cousin, Jeffrey’s low voice almost makes me start.

  "We should be honest."

  "What do you mean?" Briony stares at him with wide eyes.

  "We are all thinking it. Let us say it. The air is so thick with unsaid words I can hardly breathe, and I see in your faces you feel no differently." The words are hard; his tone is not. He is right. We all look at one another with Jeffrey’s words still ringing in our ears.

  "All right, Jeffrey," Daniel swallows, a flash of anger in his deep green eyes, "you begin, then. Why don’t you tell us what you think?"

  "Daniel, I don’t—" I start, fearing an escalation where there should only be comfort and care.

  "Evie, he is right," Jeffrey looks straight at Daniel, the flame of a candle in one of the silver stands flickering, so the
space below his eyes and cheekbones looks hollow and dark. "I didn’t think much of him. He was not the kind of man I would typically associate with."

  "Jeffrey! Please, let us eat and go to bed. There is no need to—"

  "Let him speak." Daniel is sitting rigidly in his chair. "I want to hear what he has to say."

  "I don’t want to speak ill of the dead—"

  "Then don’t!" My pleading tones fall on deaf ears, and Jeffrey is already drawing breath to continue.

  "He was a cad and a user and you knew it!"

  "He was my friend!" Daniel’s voice is brimming with anger.

  I wish I could do something to stop this. They are friends. They should not quarrell at a time like this. While these thoughs course through my anxious mind, I manage only to sit here, my eyes running back and forth between the two men, always sweeping over poor Briony’s worried expression seated between them.

  "Friend! He was using you! Always tagging along, allowing you to pay for a lifestyle he could not sustain, too lazy to—"

  "Enough!" Briony stands up and rushes from the room.

  Silence. I scrape my chair back and follow. The men are glued to their seats. How could Jeffrey behave like this, surely knowing his wife is barely coping, and his friend has lost nearly everyone who mattered to him? What on earth is happening here?

  "Briony wait!" I call as I follow her small figure onto the veranda. Briony has stopped at the edge of the tiled area, wrapping her arms around herself. "Briony." She turns around, her face cast in shadow. "Come back inside, they were just being foolish."

  "I wish I could make all of this undone."

  "We all do. Daniel and Jeffrey are frustrated and grieving. Let’s go back inside and finish dinner as best we can. Your cook has made such an effort. Come now," I hold out my hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, she nods and takes it as I lead her back into the house.

  We enter the dining room for the seccond time that evening, and both men rise, looking suitably contrite.

  "Briony, I am sorry. I behaved badly, please forgive me." Daniel is the first to speak.