Death in the Stars

by Frances Brody

  She frowned. ‘I hope he didn’t leave a needle lying about in the school grounds.’

  There are some telephone calls that make me wish that what Mrs Sugden calls the infernal contraption had never been invented.

  Selina’s telephone was answered by Beryl Lister, and I admit to feeling relieved that there might be an intermediary to break the news, someone who knew Selina better than I did, and was protective of her. ‘Mrs Lister, Kate Shackleton here, calling from the hospital in Giggleswick.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Are you sitting down?’

  ‘I wasn’t. But give me two shakes and I will.’

  ‘Are you sitting down now?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘I’m sorry to say that it’s bad news. Is Miss Fellini able to come to the telephone?’

  ‘I ran a bath for her and her masseuse has arrived. If it’s all the same to you…’

  ‘Yes?’

  The line went quiet. Finally, she said, ‘I’m inclined to let her have her massage and a sleep. She has a tablet she might take.’

  ‘She did ask me to let her know straightaway.’

  She sighed. ‘If this telephone call had come half an hour later, she would be asleep by now.’

  ‘And that would be good.’

  ‘It would.’

  ‘Then I leave the news to your discretion, Mrs Lister. Please say that I’ll come to the theatre this evening. I’m sure there’ll be questions she wants to ask me.’

  Though at present I could not think what her questions might be or how I would answer them. Billy collapsed. He died. That was as much as I could say.

  The hospital porter sat on a stool close by, having relinquished his chair to me. He was a stout, elderly man whose perfectly groomed walrus moustache gave him an air of melancholy. Without commenting on the conversation, he simply came to my aid. ‘Let me get the next number for you, madam. Who is it you’d like to speak to?’

  ‘Thank you. I need to speak to a Mr Brockett. He’s staying at the Queens Hotel in Leeds.’

  I could easily have done this myself, but my mouth had turned dry and the top of my head felt as if it might start to spin.

  It took some time for Mr Brockett to be located. Eventually, the kindly porter handed me the receiver.

  ‘Brockett speaking!’

  ‘Mr Brockett, Mrs Shackleton, calling from Giggleswick.’

  ‘Ah, Mrs Shackleton, glad to hear from you. Thanks for ensuring Selina came home safely, but something’s wrong I hear. Beryl telephoned me a couple of hours ago. She tells me Billy took a funny turn.’

  ‘I’m sorry to say that it was rather more serious than that, Mr Brockett.’

  ‘Was it now, well I’m just seeing one or two people about filling in for him tonight so you can tell him not to worry. If you’ll find out visiting hours, I’ll come and see him.’

  ‘Mr Brockett, are you sitting down?’

  Eleven

  The Cigar

  At the hospital gates, I realised that I did not know which direction to take for the railway station. I looked about for someone to ask, just as one of the boys from the school came towards me. It was Alex, the head boy who had placed his OTC coat over Billy. Now he was back in school uniform.

  ‘Hello. You look a bit lost, Mrs Shackleton. Is it what I think?’

  ‘Mr Moffatt just died.’

  ‘Oh.’ His face crumpled. The poor boy thought he had saved him. He was too young to have had news broken so abruptly. ‘I’m sorry. You and the other lads did your best.’

  We stood for a moment. He waved at the entrance to the hospital. ‘I enquired. The porter said someone was sitting with him. I thought it might be Miss Fellini.’

  With the makings of a proper gentleman, he hid his disappointment well. Having hovered about waiting for the country’s biggest variety star, he got me.

  ‘Miss Fellini had to go back to Leeds. She has a performance tonight.’

  ‘Yes I know. I’m hoping I might get to the Saturday matinée.’

  ‘She sends her thanks to you and the other boys who helped find Billy.’

  ‘I only wish we’d found him sooner.’

  ‘It’s good that you found him as quickly as you did.’ He was too young to be holding himself responsible. ‘If it’s any consolation, finding him sooner would not have made a difference.’

  ‘Thank you for saying that. I’ll tell the others. They’re all busy up at the school, a bit of a do going on for the remaining guests.’ He looked towards the hospital entrance. ‘I suppose I should ask in the hospital if they want me to take a note to the head.’

  ‘The ward sister or the doctor will telephone. The sister may want to consult with the doctor first but they’ll certainly let the school know very soon.’

  He nodded. ‘Are you going back to the station?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Shall I walk you?’

  ‘I wish you would. I’m likely to walk in circles.’

  We set off. Alex was frowning. I felt sorry that such an important day for him and his fellows had taken this desperately sad turn.

  A villager wished us good day. Alex had to shake himself into answering, but it broke his silence. ‘I wish Mr Moffatt had stayed with us, when he came over to have a word.’

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘We were by the chapel.’

  ‘I wondered where Billy disappeared to. One moment we were all together, Miss Fellini, Mr Moffatt and I, and the next moment he was gone. Did he go into the chapel?’

  ‘No. Four of us OTC chaps were near the front of the chapel. When everyone got so excited after seeing the eclipse, we were larking about, trying to dance the fandango. Mr Moffatt joined in for about thirty seconds and then he just laughed. He took out a cigar, lit it and walked off.’

  That made sense. He knew how sensitive Selina was regarding her throat and her aversion to a smoky atmosphere. He would not have stood beside her with his cigar. What I didn’t understand was why he had just walked off without a word. Had he already injected himself? If so, when and where did he take out his needle and put it to his neck? Mrs Douglas thought that he had taken drugs. I wondered what made her think that. Perhaps she had looked into his eyes and knew the signs.

  ‘Alex, will you please show me where you found Billy?’

  ‘Yes. He was behind the chapel, sitting on the ground with his back to the wall, slumped over.’

  He must have been so cold, so very cold, and tired too, if he had sat down on the ground. We turned around, retracing our steps, walking back from the village towards the school grounds.

  Alex pushed open the small gate that still held the sign ‘Astronomer Royal Only’. ‘What do you think caused his death, Mrs Shackleton? Only something struck me as odd. He had an odd look about him.’

  ‘What kind of look?’

  ‘I’m not sure how to describe it, as if he’d swallowed a lemon. Sorry to seem cold-hearted but I’m interested because my father and uncle are doctors and that’s what I’ll be too.’

  The area that earlier had been so crowded with people was now deserted. The astronomers’ equipment had been cleared away.

  He was such a sensible and intelligent young man who clearly thought that it would be fair of me to share my thoughts, and yet that would be wrong. ‘I don’t know the cause of death. I wondered that myself. We’ll wait to hear from the doctor.’

  He gave a scoffing laugh that sounded too cynical to have come from such a young person. ‘Between you and me, Mrs Shackleton, if it’s Doctor Davison, he’ll say heart attack. He nearly always says heart attack or heart failure, or cardiac arrest, which I suppose can never be far from the mark.’

  ‘You think differently, Alex?’

  ‘It looked to me as if he’d taken something. We had a boy last year expelled for that sort of thing. He’d managed to gather his own little stash of opium.’

  ‘You are very observant.’

  ‘I’ve read up on it. Have you done any such thi
ng as nursing?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘I watched you in the chapel and I guessed as much.’

  ‘Yes.’ This was far too grown-up a conversation to be having with a boy, but he must be seventeen or eighteen, almost a man.

  ‘I haven’t said anything to anyone of course, Mrs Shackleton.’

  ‘That’s the best course under the circumstances.’ We were back in the area surrounding the chapel. All the equipment had been removed. The area was well trampled, with here and there a few tent pegs left from where temporary shelters had covered equipment. There were tab ends and a few sweet wrappers. If Billy wanted to inject himself he would have needed to find a less public place than this.

  ‘This way!’ Alex walked around the side of the chapel. There was an area of brushwood and a stunted tree.

  He came to a stop. ‘Mr Moffatt was here, by the wall, as if he’d leaned against it and slid down.’

  He illustrated by putting his back to the wall, sliding into a sitting position and then leaning forwards, his head lolling in a way that made me shiver. Just as quickly, he jumped up.

  I walked back and forth, looking at the ground. There was no needle. Near to where Alex said Billy had sat was a discarded cigar.

  ‘You say he lit a cigar?’

  ‘Yes. That must be it.’

  So Billy had strolled round the side of the chapel to smoke, to be alone and lick his wounds. The success of the eclipse put paid to his routine.

  He was unlikely to have injected himself with so many people close by. Besides, having lit a cigar, he wouldn’t easily be able to handle a needle.

  I took a hanky from my pocket, bent down and picked up the remains of the cigar. Either he had stubbed it out quickly or it died shortly after lighting. I folded it into the hanky.

  ‘May I?’

  I opened the hanky and let Alex take a look at the cigar. He sniffed it. ‘Interesting.’

  Alex returned it to me. I put it in my satchel.

  ‘I read a story, ages ago.’ He spoke lightly as though making conversation at a dinner table. ‘It was by William Le Queux. Have you read any of his?’

  ‘No. My father reads them though.’

  ‘In this particular story, someone was poisoned by a cigar.’

  I then felt slightly ridiculous for having picked up the dead cigar, like some tramp searching gutters for tab ends. ‘I’m not sure why I picked this up. Perhaps because it was the last thing Billy did – smoked.’

  ‘Mrs Shackleton, why did Mr Moffatt come over here to light up rather than stay with his friends?’

  ‘Miss Fellini is very sensitive about her throat. Her livelihood depends on her voice and she has a performance this evening.’

  ‘I see.’

  I felt reluctant to walk away from the spot where Billy sat down, where he lost consciousness, almost as if doing so was a betrayal.

  Alex also stood like a mourner at a funeral. ‘We’re both wondering about his death, aren’t we, Mrs Shackleton? And because I know the doctor, I can say with certainty that it will be heart failure. You can’t go wrong with that.’

  ‘Alex, as a doctor’s son you’ll know that there will need to be a post mortem in the case of an unexpected death.’

  He looked disappointed. ‘Yes I suppose that’s true. I wish it could be me carrying it out.’

  ‘That’s ghoulish.’

  ‘No. It’s medicine.’

  It was time for me to go back to the station. I had no timetable and didn’t know how long I might have to wait for a train. ‘Well, thank you for bringing me here. I’d better be off now.’

  ‘What will you do with the cigar?’

  That was a good question. It crossed my mind that Billy not only sniffed his drugs but smoked them too. I should like to satisfy my curiosity. Alex was looking at me with such intensity, his eyes alight with intelligence. He reminded me of the very first boy I took tea with, when we were both too shy to speak. This wasn’t true of Alex.

  It would be ridiculous to say that I picked it up as a memento. ‘I might just take it to a friendly chemist, out of interest.’

  Quick as a flash he was on the alert. ‘We have a laboratory here. No one will be taking any notice what we do at this time of the day. I’m a bit of a whiz in the lab, and I know there won’t be a train from Giggleswick for at least another hour.’

  I hesitated.

  He pushed his case. ‘You see, some materials evaporate pretty quickly. By the time you got home there might be nothing to find.’

  ‘There probably isn’t anything to find now.’ But his words gave me pause for thought. Chemistry was never my strong suit and this chap, young as he was, did indeed seem a bit of a whiz. If he was right and the cigar had been tampered with, and the substance might evaporate, then it would be negligent not to try and find out. To return home and visit my chemist friend with a chewed cigar was not an enticing prospect, and would probably waste his time. Of course the simple thing would be to take it back to the infirmary, but it might lie around there the whole day.

  Alex tilted his head. ‘We won’t know if we don’t try.’

  ‘Are you sure we can do it without getting you into trouble?’

  ‘I’m sure. I’m head boy to keep me out of bother and I’m expert in keeping my nose clean.’

  With a somewhat stealthy air, we set off for the school laboratory, in possession of the cigar.

  *

  ‘If anyone spots us, we’ll say I’m showing you round the school.’

  We were climbing the stairs to the second floor and so far had not met a soul, boys and masters having been given the rest of the day off to make up for their early start that morning.

  The metal sign on the door read Chemistry Laboratory.

  Alex glanced both ways along the corridor before taking a key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and swung it open for me.

  ‘You’ve done this before, Alex.’

  ‘Once or twice. It’s useful to be trusted.’ He followed me in, closing the door behind him.

  The lab, permeated with a faint smell of sulphur and ammonia, was a large classroom with high windows. No passer-by shorter than fourteen feet would see in.

  The impression was of dark wood and gleaming glass bottles. Eight benches stood in two rows of four along the centre of the room. Each had cupboards below and shelves attached above. The shelves held a myriad of bottles and dishes in various shapes and sizes. The names came back to me from my schoolgirl flirtation with chemistry. Erlenmeyer flask, beakers, round-bottom flask, reagent bottle, Bunsen burner, evaporating dishes.

  Down either side of the room were scrubbed tables, sinks and contraptions with rubber tubes.

  Alex waited for me to give him the cigar. ‘I have an idea about this, from the smell of it. It’s a weird smell.’

  ‘You’re right, but I have a summer cold. I’m not the best judge today.’

  In spite of the care I had taken to wrap the cigar in my handkerchief, strands of tobacco had loosened and lay nest-like against the white cotton. ‘Before you do that, because this might be quicker though I don’t know…’ I reached into my pocket. Prior to giving the pillbox to the doctor I had extracted one of the tablets. ‘Billy had these in his pocket. I don’t know what they are.’ I handed him the tablet.

  He sniffed. ‘Not much of a smell.’

  He picked up a small dish, took it to the sink and turned on the cold water tap. I stood beside him while he broke the tablet and dropped half into the water. It fizzed. He dipped in his finger and tasted.

  ‘Be careful!’

  ‘It’s all right, just an antacid tablet. It’s turned the water alkaline. See for yourself.’

  I tasted. So Selina had known what tablets Billy carried. Poor Billy, not only an old soldier with painful wounds but an acidic stomach, too. Mrs Douglas had thought the pillbox contained drugs, though of course she was right that it had originally held cocaine.

  We both froze at the same moment as footsteps
sounded along the corridor, and someone paused by the door. I hoped that no conscientious science master decided to come in and plan a lesson. It was one thing to have the excuse of being shown around the school, quite another to be in a locked laboratory with the head boy, watching him conduct a poison test on a cigar.

  False alarm. Whoever it was continued along the corridor.