Baked to Death

by Dean James

  “Did Tris’s error in calling it digitalis poisoning contribute in any way to Luke’s death?”

  Robin eyed me curiously. “Perhaps, Simon. Cyanide acts far more swiftly than foxglove, and frankly I don’t think there was much hope for de Montfort once he had ingested the cyanide. The dose was small but enough to be fatal. But no matter what poison they thought he had ingested, they were treating him as they would any victim of poisoning and doing their very best to save him.”

  “Of course they were,” I said hastily. “I didn’t think otherwise, Robin, I assure you.”

  “Surely you don’t suspect that Professor Lovelace, of all people, deliberately misled the doctor?”

  That was exactly what I did suspect, but for the moment, at least, I couldn’t allow Robin to know that. “Certainly not,” I said, investing those two words with every bit of sincerity I could muster.

  It must have worked, because Robin appeared satisfied.

  “You see the importance of the fact that it was cyanide, rather than foxglove,” Robin said.

  “Yes,” I replied. “It means he was poisoned in Totsye’s pavilion last night. The cyanide would have acted immediately, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Robin said. “And that’s the main reason I told you all this, Simon. What happened in that tent last night is more important than ever, and I need you to remember as much as possible about it all. Anything you might have seen or heard, no matter how trivial.”

  “Did the pathologist have any idea how the poison was delivered? Was it in something he ate, or something he drank?”

  “The pathologist believes it was in honey. The fig pastries have honey over them, I believe.”

  “How recently had he eaten the fig pastry?” I asked.

  “Within a short time of his death,” Robin said. “And because the poison would have acted very quickly, that means he had to have eaten the pastry after he arrived for the dinner party.”

  I nodded. “That’s what I originally suspected last night, before we were all sidetracked by the idea that foxglove was responsible.”

  “I’ll have to go back over all the statements to check, but I don’t believe anyone mentioned seeing the victim eat one of the pastries on his plate. And then there’s the question of what happened to the second pastry,” Robin said. “But I shall have to question them all again anyway, in light of the pathologist’s findings.”

  “Yes, well, if anything occurs to me, Robin, I’ll let you know right away,” I said.

  “Thank you, Simon,” he responded. I’ve no doubt you will.” With that, he turned and walked away.

  I stood where I was, staring blindly after him, as my mind worked busily. I didn’t like some of the ideas I was getting. Was I trying too hard to see Tris as the villain in this piece, simply because I knew that he had a motive for wanting Luke out of the way?

  This was absurd. I shook my head to clear it, then started back to find Giles. Tris was insufferably conceited, quite certain that he knew everything. It was just like him to make a pronouncement about the poison that had felled Luke, expecting everyone to fall right in line with him. Just because he happened to be wrong in this case didn’t mean there was anything deliberate, or sinister, in the error. My imagination was running a bit too rampant.

  Giles stood waiting for me in the shade of Totsye’s helpful neighbor’s tent. He turned to thank her as I approached, and he joined me in front of Totsye’s pavilion.

  I glanced inside, but I caught no glimpse of Totsye. If she were still here, she must be in the rear chamber of the tent. I wanted to question her again about last night, but perhaps it could wait for a bit. Glancing at Giles, I noticed he appeared a bit wan.

  “Time to get you away from here for a bit,” I said, slipping an arm around his shoulders.

  “I wouldn’t mind that,” Giles said with a faint smile. “I am feeling somewhat tired, Simon.”

  “Then off we go,” I responded. “You’re more important than any murder investigation. Shall I take you to the Hall?”

  “No, Simon,” he said. “I’d rather go home with you to Laurel Cottage, if you don’t mind.”

  The diffidence with which he spoke was charming. Of course, I couldn’t blame him for not wanting his mother dithering about and causing all manner of ruckus over him.

  “Of course not, Giles,” I said. “I’d rather have you there with me anyway, so I can keep an eye on you.”

  He laughed a bit at that. “Surely, Simon, you don’t think someone else is going to attack me. That’s absurd.”

  “Very likely,” I said, nodding at various passersby as we moved steadily toward the exit to the encampment I kept an eye out for a handsome young man dressed all in scarlet but I caught nary a flash of such a dramatic color anywhere about us. “But better safe than sorry, as the saying goes.”

  “I’m too tired to argue with you,” Giles said. He yawned.

  “None of that, now,” I said. “The doctor said you had to stay awake, remember.”

  “Yes, I know,” Giles responded, “and I promise I’ll stay awake at Laurel Cottage. At least we can be more comfortable there, and have a bit of privacy. You can tell me whatever it is you need to tell me.”

  I almost jerked to a stop when I heard those words, but I covered it by pretending to stumble over something. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “A hole in the ground there.”

  “Simon?” Giles said.

  “Ah, yes, Giles,” I replied. We had reached the exit and I nodded to the guard as Giles and I passed through. “Yes, we’ll have a chance to talk when we get to Laurel Cottage.”

  Slowly we made our way up the hill to where my Jag was parked. Giles said nothing further, even during the short drive through Snupperton Mumsley.

  The front door of Laurel Cottage was unlocked, which meant that Tris was probably inside. I wasn’t looking forward to confronting him about his mistaken identification of the poison, but at that moment I’d rather have tackled him than have had that little talk with Giles.

  “Hello? Tris?” I called, but there was no response. I shut the door behind us.

  “Why don’t you go into the kitchen and find yourself something to drink, Giles?” I said. “I think I’ll go upstairs and change out of these clothes. I’ll bring you a robe, if you like, so you can change out of yours.”

  “That’s fine, Simon,” Giles said. He disappeared into the kitchen.

  As I climbed the stairs, I became aware of certain sounds issuing from one of the rooms upstairs. Frowning, I ascended the stairs more quickly.

  I paused on the landing. As I had suspected, the sounds were coming from the guest room. I hesitated a moment, then thought, what the hell. It wouldn’t be the first time I had caught Tris in the act.

  I flung open the door, and there, in the afternoon sun streaming through the window, were Tris and his companion, merrily going at it.

  After a moment, Tris turned to look over at me. “Care to join us, Simon?”

  “Don’t be disgusting, Tris,” I said furiously. My eyes swept around the room, coming to rest on a heap of discarded clothing on the floor. A scarlet tunic and hose. So this was where Will Scarlet had got to.

  I advanced on the bed. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  A sullen, handsome face glared back at me as Tris moved aside to recline lazily on the bed. “Wot the bloody ‘ell do yer want with me?” Will Scarlet demanded.

  “I want some answers,” I said, “and if you’re lucky, I won’t rip your head off.”

  Evidently the look on my face convinced him, because he cowered back against Tris. Tris, blast him, merely looked on in amused indifference.

  “Answers ter what?” Will said. He scrunched closer to Tris.

  “A friend of mine was attacked today, around the back of the tavern at the encampment. You were seen nearby just before it happened.”

  “ ’Tweren’t nought to do with me,” Will said, attempting a defiant tone but just missing.

  “Oh, I think i
t was,” I said. “My friend, in case you didn’t know it, is Sir Giles Blitherington, of Blitherington Hall, and around here they take a rather dim view of louts who attack the local gentry.”

  Will’s eyes widened in fear.

  “Did you strike him?” I said, stepping closer to the bed.

  Cowering, Will said, “If n he be your friend, how come he were chatting up Tris here? Tell me that! ”

  “If anyone were doing the chatting up, as you call it, it was Tris, not Giles,” I said. “How dim can you possibly be?”

  “ ’Ere now,” Will protested. “Watch ’oo you call dim ’ere.”

  “Really, Tris,” I said, “your taste has certainly declined.”

  Tris laughed. “Now, Simon, I don’t pick them for their conversational skills.”

  Will scowled, aware that he had been insulted, but apparently not able to figure out just how.

  “Now, look ’ere,” he said, “I didn’t mean no ’arm, I didn’t ’it ’im that ’ard. Besides, ’e didn’t ought to be messing around like that with me friend, ’specially when ’e’s got one of ’is own.”

  “You hit him hard enough, you bloody idiot, and you’re lucky I don’t rip off your arm,” I said.

  At that, Will dove under the covers and commenced sniveling.

  “I think you’ve frightened the poor lad enough, Simon,” Tris said, patting the covers somewhere in the region of Will’s rump. “I think he’s very sorry that he struck Giles, and I’m sure he’ll apologize nicely. Won’t you, Will?”

  The covers jiggled, as Will presumably nodded. “This is ludicrous beyond words,” I said, trying not to laugh. My anger had spent itself, and now I could see only the ridiculousness of the situation. “If Giles chooses not to prosecute you, Will, then we’ll let the matter rest”

  His head came out from the covers, and he glared at me suspiciously.

  “Yes, I mean that, Will,” I said. “I’m going to change clothes, and by the time I’m done, I expect you to be dressed and downstairs, Will, and making your apologies to Giles. Then you get the hell back to the encampment and stay there. Got that?”

  He nodded, and I left before I was treated to any further glimpses of naked flesh.

  In my bedroom, I changed out of my medieval garb and into my comfortable working clothes. I rummaged around in the closet and found a large flannel dressing gown for Giles. Throwing it over my shoulder, I went back across the hall to confront Tris.

  He was still lounging in the bed, filling his pipe and looking completely at ease.

  “Well?” I said.

  “Well what, Simon?” Tris responded.

  “I should think the very least you could do is to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  I stared at him. He set his tobacco pouch aside and reached for his lighter. When he finally had his pipe lit to his satisfaction, he stared back at me through the plumes of smoke swirling about his head.

  “Oh, very well, Simon,” he said, his tone amused. “I apologize for what Will did to Giles. I had no idea he would behave so rashly. Really, jealousy is such a tedious emotion.”

  “To you it is,” I said, “though, correct me if I’m wrong, you were jealous of Giles and me, at least for a short while. But you seem to have recovered from that, Tris. And that makes me rather suspicious of your claims to wanting me back.”

  In response, he exhaled more smoke in my direction.

  “Was it all just an act, Tris?”

  “No, Simon, it wasn’t,” Tris said, dropping his pose of indifference. “It bloody wasn’t. But it didn’t take me long to discover that it didn’t matter. The only way I could change your mind would be to take an irrevocable step, and I realized that would have alienated you forever.”

  “You’re bloody right it would have,” I said. “If you had harmed Giles, I would have done my best to destroy you.”

  “I figured that out,” Tris said, “though it seems to have taken you rather a bit longer to face up to your own feelings.”

  “You pushed me into it,” I said.

  “Yes, I did,” Tris acknowledged. “I had to give you a push to get you to make up your mind. Sadly, I lost.”

  “Do you really mean that, Tris?” I asked.

  “Yes, Simon, I do. It’s my loss,” Tris said with a wry smile. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have been consoling myself, shall we say, with the likes of Will Scarlet.”

  “So what was behind all that hypnosis business?”

  Tris fiddled with his pipe. “Oh, that. Well, I decided to find out whether Giles felt as strongly about you as you do about him. The only way I could do that was to get inside his head.”

  “You found your answer,” I said.

  “Yes,” Tris replied. “I did. The young idiot is utterly and entirely in love with you. You had better do something about it.”

  “I will,” I said, “but I’m going to have to tell him everything.”

  “That’s a big risk.”

  “It is, but I can’t have any kind of lasting relationship with him without his knowing the truth.”

  Tris nodded. “I’d expect no less of you, Simon. You and your confounded ethics.”

  “Thanks. I think.” I hesitated to spoil this moment of accord between the two of us, but I had to confront him about Luke de Montfort’s death.

  “I had some rather interesting information from Detective Inspector Chase a little while ago, Tris. Information that I believe you will also find interesting.”

  “What was it, Simon?”

  “You seemed so certain that Luke de Montfort had been poisoned with foxglove,” I said. “But it turns out that it was really cyanide. Terribly cliche, I know, but there you are.”

  Tris shrugged. “I was wrong, it seems.”

  “Yes, you were,” I said. “But you seemed very certain at the time. Why was that, Tris?”

  He puffed on his pipe before answering. “I had occasion in the past to take note, shall we say, of the effects of foxglove and its uses as a poison, Simon. And it looked to me like Luke was suffering in the same way.”

  “An innocent mistake.”

  “If you like,” Tris said, a shade too casually.

  “I’ll tell you what I think, Tris,” I said. “I think you knew it wasn’t foxglove at all. In fact, I’d be willing to bet you knew that it was cyanide.”

  “If I did, and I’m not saying that I did, why would I want to do something like that?”

  “Because, Tris,” I said, “you wanted Luke dead, but you didn’t want to have to kill him yourself. When someone else poisoned him, you did your best to delay the proper treatment Luke would most likely have died anyway, but what you did confused the situation.”

  Tris puffed on his pipe and regarded me calmly. “You’re not denying this, Tris,” I said.

  “Would there be any use?” he responded. “You’ve made up your mind. If you expect me to express any regrets over Luke’s death, I’m afraid I shall have to disappoint you.”

  Sickened, I turned away from him and stood in the doorway for a moment. “I want you out of this house immediately, Tris, and I never want to see you again. Goodbye.”

  Tris did not respond. I hadn’t really expected him to.

  I walked slowly down the stairs, clutching the robe in trembling hands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I paused for a moment at the foot of the stairs, trying to regain my composure before I had to face Giles.

  The scene with Tris had upset me badly. I was closing the door on an important part of my life, and that was never easy. But it had to be done. I couldn’t imagine myself forgetting what Tris had done or forgiving it, though I supposed I shouldn’t be all that surprised. Tris was simply being Tris, looking out for Numero Uno, no matter the cost to others.

  So be it. Tris had made his choice, and I had made mine. No regrets, no looking back.

  My hands were steady now.

  “Giles?” I called. “Where are you?”

  “In your
office, Simon,” he responded.

  I walked to the door of my office and looked in. He was seated behind my desk, idly doodling on a piece of paper.

  “What are you doing, Giles?” I said.

  “Just passing the time ’til you were back,” he said.

  “What took you so long, Simon? I was beginning to think I would have to come upstairs after you.”

  Thank goodness you didn’t, I thought. “Sorry, it took longer than I thought. I had a few things to sort out, as you probably gathered.” I held out the robe to him. “Would you like to change into this? You might be more comfortable.”

  Giles got up from behind the desk and came around to where I stood. He took the robe from my arms and laid it across a chair. Smiling at me, he began to strip off his tunic and hose, and I watched, enjoying the view, until he made as if to take off his undergarments as well.

  I cleared my throat, and he stopped. “I think that’s far enough, Giles. After all, you don’t want to catch cold.” I picked up the robe and helped him into it. He grinned up at me, completely unrepentant, as he tied the belt into a loose knot.

  “I don’t think I’m in any danger of catching cold, Simon,” he said, “at least, not so long as you’re anywhere nearby.” He wrapped his arms around me. “Though I must say, you do seem a bit on the cold side yourself.”

  “Oh, my body temperature is always a bit lower than normal,” I said. I hugged him close to me, enjoying the feel of my arms around him.

  We were still standing that way, minutes later, when Tris came clumping down the stairs. He glanced briefly in at us, smiled, then went out the front door, suitcases in hand.

  “Where is he going?” Giles asked, pulling away from me.

  “I asked him to leave,” I said. “And he won’t ever be coming back.”

  “Really?” Giles said. “That sounds rather drastic.” Then he grinned. “Can’t say that I’m too upset by the news, however. Good riddance.”

  “Yes, I do believe you’re right,” I said. Taking him by the arm, I led him into the drawing room. I made myself comfortable on the sofa, then drew him down so that he was sitting with his back against me, my arm around him and his head resting on my shoulder.