Baked to Death

by Dean James

  “I like this, Simon,” he said, with a sigh of contentment. His warm breath tickled my nose.

  “Me, too,” I said. I reached my other arm around him and held him even closer.

  We sat quietly for a few minutes, and I made sure that Giles could feel my chest gently rising and falling, as if I were breathing.

  “Giles,” I said, and he stirred slightly in my arms.

  “Yes?” he said in a drowsy voice.

  “Did Will Scarlet apologize to you?”

  “Who?” he said. “Oh, him. Yes, he did, Simon, and he was so pathetic I readily promised I wouldn’t prosecute him. I told him he was welcome to his bloody Tris.”

  “Very well, at least we’re rid of him,” I said. “And we can forget all about him.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Giles said. He shifted slightly against me. “Now, Simon, about that talk you wanted to have. What was it you wanted to tell me?”

  I had hoped he would forget about that for a while, at least until I had given a bit more thought to how I would tell him. How should I do this?

  The phone rang, and I was never more grateful to hear that sound in all my existence. Gently I eased from under Giles and went out into the hall to answer it, while Giles grumbled at being disturbed.

  “Laurel Cottage,” I said.

  Lady Prunella Blitherington’s voice squawked so loudly in my ear I winced in pain and held the receiver away from me. I waited until the spate of words slowed to a minor deluge, then tried to break in.

  After several attempts at getting her attention, I gave up and set the receiver down on the table. Lady Prunella continued to chatter as I walked away from the phone.

  “Giles,” I said from the doorway. “It’s your mother on the phone, and I think you had better come talk to her.”

  He groaned and sat up. “Dash it all, Simon, someone must have told her what happened.”

  “Yes,” I said. “And until she hears your voice, she’s likely to continue having hysterics over the phone.”

  He padded into the hallway and gingerly picked up the phone while I watched. Lady Prunella had never stopped gabbling.

  “Mummy,” Giles spoke into the phone. “Mummy, I’m fine, really I am.” He repeated this several times, but apparently to no avail. Finally, in desperation, he shouted, “MOTHER, I AM FINE. DO SHUT UP!”

  Lady Prunella actually did as she was told. Rolling his eyes at me, Giles spoke in his normal tones, “Now, Mummy, I’m perfectly fine, and there is absolutely no need for you to take on this way.”

  She started squawking at him again. He listened for a moment “Very well,” he said. “I have no doubt that Simon will be happy to run me home, Mummy. Then you will be able to see for yourself that there is absolutely nothing wrong with me. We’ll be there soon, I promise.” He dropped the phone in its cradle without bothering to listen for a reply.

  I half expected the phone to ring again at any moment, once Lady Prunella realized he had hung up on her. But the way she talked, that could take ten minutes or more, and by that time, I could have Giles safely back at Blitherington Hall.

  “If I don’t go,” Giles said, “I haven’t the least doubt that she’ll turn up here.”

  For once I could have kissed his mother, thankful for the interruption. I offered a smile of commiseration as he went into my office to change back into his clothes. I then headed upstairs to do the same.

  I decided I was tired of playing at being medieval, so I chose one of my more usual dark suits. I was back downstairs in five minutes, and Giles stood waiting patiently by the door.

  Trust my mother,” he said as we walked to the car, “to ruin what could have been a very pleasant afternoon.”

  “Yes, it could have been,” I said, “but it won’t do any harm to reassure your mother that you’re safe and sound, Giles.”

  “I know,” he said, shutting the door of the Jag. “But her timing is deuced inconvenient.”

  There’ll be other opportunities, Giles,” I said, turning the key in the ignition. “And soon, I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  We accomplished the rest of the short drive in silence, and I parked the car in the forecourt of Blitherington Hall. The reporters who had been keeping vigil at the entrance seemed to have found somewhere else to wait

  “Want to come in with me?” Giles asked as he climbed out of the car.

  “I think not,” I said. “Things might go better if I’m not there for your mother to accuse, don’t you think?”

  “I daresay.” He sighed. “Very well. Where will you be?”

  I nodded in the direction of the encampment. “I might as well go along to see if anything new has developed.”

  “Be careful, Simon,” he said. I came around the car to give him a quick hug and a kiss. I waited until he was inside the front door of the Hall before I traipsed around the side and down the hill.

  Once inside the encampment I paused, considering what I might do. Robin Chase would no doubt be even more annoyed with me for continuing to poke about, but I hadn’t let that stop me in the past I had met one person in this encampment who seemed to know quite a bit about the principals involved in the case, and I might as well see if I could dig up anything else of use.

  Thankful that the day had turned cloudy, I sauntered down the lane toward the bakery shop and Mistress Maud. Her amiable nature and proclivity for gossip had been most enlightening before, and perhaps would be again.

  In the bakery tent, I waited a few minutes for a couple to finish dithering over the choices of baked goods, but finally only the proprietress and I remained.

  “Good day to you, sir,” Mistress Maud said, beaming at me. “And what might you be wanting today?”

  I stepped up to the counter and smiled back at her. “Oh, more of those wonderful fig pastries of yours, my good lady. I have developed quite a taste for them.”

  Her face fell. “Oh, sir, I mislike to disappoint you, but I have not a single one left I shall have more tomorrow, however.”

  “That is a disappointment, Mistress, but I shall endeavor to overcome it.”

  She giggled at my gallantry, then waited patiently for me to make another choice. I pretended to examine the various wares on display.

  “Such an appetizing array of choices,” I said. “It really is difficult to decide.” I glanced up at her. Tell me, Mistress Maud, is this what you do in the mundane world? Pardon my curiosity.”

  “No, in the mundane world I have a much different life,” she said. “Baking is something I dearly love, but I couldn’t do it full time. No, I earn my daily bread”—she giggled a little over the pun— “as a financial journalist.”

  “How very interesting,” I said, and indeed it was. That explained how she knew so much about the business dealings of some of her fellow members of the society. “In your professional capacity, you no doubt have run across some of the folk here this week.”

  “An occupational hazard,” she said. “When we gather for our meetings, we do our best to leave the mundane world behind, but that isn’t always possible.”

  I nodded encouragement, and she continued, “Take our late Duke of Wessex, for example. He was a very hard-headed businessman, with a reputation for tough dealing. Not many cared to cross him, and a couple of members of our group learned that, to their cost.”

  “Like your king, for example,” I said.

  “Oh, my, yes,” she said. “Poor Harald. But he wasn’t the only one. Totsye Titchmarsh came out the loser on a deal she tried with Luke.” She shook her head dolefully. “The woman completely lost her head on that one. And she’s lucky she didn’t lose her business.”

  “And yet she remained enamored of him.”

  “So it would seem,” Mistress Maud said. “She lost a pot of money in trying to open a chain of herb shops, and allegedly the late duke had promised some financial assistance. When that backing failed to materialize, Totsye was lucky she didn’t have to declare bankruptcy.”

>   “Most interesting,” I said. “That reminds me of something else very interesting I heard, and perhaps you can confirm it for me.”

  Mistress Maud tilted her head to one side, reminding me of a bird waiting for an unlucky worm.

  “I heard from somewhere,” I said slowly, “that once upon a time, your king and Totsye were deeply devoted to each other.”

  “That’s true enough,” she said. “We all thought they’d make a match of it, but that was about the time that Luke and Adele joined the group.”

  “And that was the end of that,” I said.

  Mistress Maud nodded, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Adele made certain of that” She chuckled. “The two of them made a pretty formidable team. Divide and conquer, that’s what they did. Neither Harald nor Totsye stood a chance, once Luke and Adele got to work.”

  A fairly powerful motive for revenge, I thought. Things were beginning to fall into place. Now I just had to figure out how it was done.

  Thanking Mistress Maud, I departed rather abruptly. I wandered down the lane, glancing at the various shops as I went.

  The honey was the key to it, somehow. The poison, presumably in the form of powder, had been added to honey, which would have helped disguise the taste and any smell. The fig pastries had a bit of honey poured over them, of course, and the killer could have sprinkled the poison into the honey somehow.

  But that might have been awkward, to say the least And what had happened to the second fig pastry on Luke’s plate? I had seen one remaining on his plate after he collapsed, but later, it had disappeared. Why would someone have removed it from the plate?

  And then it hit me. The fig pastries weren’t the only item on Totsye’s menu that used honey. Mead was made from honey as well, and what had Totsye been pouring into each of the pewter cups on the table?

  Mead.

  It was as simple as that. The poison had been in the mead, but how had it come to be there?

  It had to have been put in Luke’s cup before the mead was poured into it, or shortly thereafter. The murderer must have removed the second fig pastry to make the police think that both pastries had been poisoned.

  But how? How had the murderer managed it without anyone catching on?

  Without realizing it, I had paused in front of the tent of a jeweler. As my mind cleared, I focused on the rings, necklaces, and brooches laid out on velvet before me.

  I began laughing and shaking my head, startling several persons milling about nearby. How could I have missed it? How obvious, and yet how simple.

  Time to find Robin and get this thing finished.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Hold on just a minute, I told myself sternly. Better check out a couple of things before you go announcing to Robin that you’ve figured it all out.

  With my own warning in mind, I stepped into the jeweler’s tent I waited until he had finished chatting with a woman, already overloaded with jewelry, who couldn’t make up her mind between a lovely pendant and an ornate ring. Finally she left without buying either, and the merchant stared after her with a sour face.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” he said, turning to me with a hopeful smile. “Is there anything in particular that catches your eye? I have some handsome rings that would well suit a gentleman of your stature.”

  I smiled back. “Actually, I am rather interested in rings.” I pointed to a tray of them on the table in front of me. “These are all most attractive, but what I had in mind was something special.”

  “I’m certain that I will have something to suit you, sir. What is it you seek?”

  I laughed, as if I were embarrassed. “Well, what I’d really love to have is one of those poison rings. You know, a ring like the Borgias or Catherine de Medici used to get rid of their enemies.”

  The jeweler beamed at me. “I know exactly what you want, sir, and I must say that I am often asked for such objects.” He pointed to three different rings, all set with large single stones, on the tray in front of me. “Each of these has a special hollow chamber beneath the stone.” He picked one up and deftly manipulated the stone open to show me the hollow space beneath. It was more than ample for the secretion of a deadly amount of prussic add powder.

  “That’s quite striking,” I said. “And I’m sure you must have ladies’ rings like it.” I waited for his enthusiastic nod before I continued. “In fact, I fancy that I’ve seen a couple of these rings already. ”

  His head kept bobbing up and down as he beamed at me. “Oh, yes, sir, they are quite popular with the ladies.” He winked at me. “You never know when a lady might need to add a little love potion to her lover’s drink, naturally.”

  Or a little poison, I added silently.

  “Did you make the one that Dame Alysoun wears?” I asked.

  “Yes, indeed, I did, though that was several years ago. Does she still wear it, sir? I had feared it was lost, and she was too shamed to tell me.”

  “Oh, no,” I said blithely. “She still has it.” And before much longer, the poor man would discover to just what use Totsye Titchmarsh had put said ring. I doubted that he would welcome the news, though I could be wrong. Some people loved any kind of publicity, and the tabloids would have great fun with a medieval poison ring.

  I decided that having such a ring might prove useful, and I tried all three of the men’s rings he had shown me. One of them fit perfectly on my forefinger, and I liked the way it looked. I winced a bit at the price, but he was delighted to take my credit card. A few minutes later I was again on my way, ready to put the next part of my plan in motion.

  As I had hoped, there was still a PC posted outside Totsye’s pavilion. I explained that I needed to speak with Detective Inspector Chase most urgently. He directed me to the area where Robin had set up a temporary headquarters, and luckily I found Robin seated at a desk, going over statements.

  He looked up at me and without missing a beat said, “I take it you’ve got it all figured out, Simon. You look very much like a cat who’s just had the canary for lunch.”

  “Quite right, Robin,” I said, dropping down in the chair across from him. “I believe I know who did it and why, and for once, I don’t think it should be all that difficult to prove.”

  “Go ahead, then,” he said, dropping the sheaf of papers on the desk and leaning back. “Dazzle me.”

  “Totsye Titchmarsh in the tent with a poison ring.”

  “What?” Robin said, puzzled. Then his face cleared as he caught the reference. “This isn’t a game of Cluedo, Simon. Do be serious.”

  “I am serious, Robin,” I said. “Totsye Titchmarsh is your murderer. She put the poison in a ring like this.” I paused to demonstrate my new trinket, and Robin stared at it.

  “Ah, I begin to see,” he said.

  “The poison wasn’t in the fig pastries at all,” I said. “It was in the mead. Mead is made from honey, and Totsye dropped the poison into Luke’s drinking cup before she poured in the mead.”

  “How can you be so certain?” Robin said. “Couldn’t she have sprinkled the poison on a pastry?”

  “No,” I said. “She did it right in front of me, though I didn’t realize it until a little while ago.”

  “Are you certain it couldn’t have been put on a pastry?”

  “Reasonably so,” I said. “Were you able to find out how long the pastries had been on the plates?”

  “The pastries arrived only a few minutes before she began to pour out the mead. She had her serving girl place the pastries on the plates, and I don’t think she had a chance to poison one of them. But it does explain why the second fig pastry disappeared. She took it so that you would think it was the pastry that was poisoned. But it was in the mead all along.”

  “When did she take the uneaten pastry?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said, “but she probably managed to swipe it before she left the tent in search of the doctor. Once she had, it would have been easy enough for her to dispose of it somewhere along the way.”

/>   “It makes sense,” Robin said. “But why? Why did she want to kill him?”

  “Has anyone told you that, once upon a time, Totsye and Harald Knutson were an item?”

  Robin shook his head.

  “I thought not,” I replied. “Apparently they were a couple until Luke and Adele de Montfort joined the group. Adele quickly enthralled Harald, and Luke inveigled him into a disastrous business deal. If you do some digging, I imagine you’ll find that Luke and Adele had done that a few times before. Luke also involved Totsye in a bad deal, and she was lucky, according to my source, to escape without going bankrupt.”

  “Revenge, then,” Robin commented.

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s as simple as that. She was never in love with Luke at all. It always seemed ludicrous to me, and it was nothing more than an act. She’s quite an accomplished actress, I’d say. She was biding her time until she could pay him back, and if she’s not stopped, I imagine she’ll try to kill Adele as well.”

  “This is all well and good, Simon,” Robin complained. “I grant you that it’s all very plausible, and I could probably charge her based on all this, but to make it stick, I need something a bit more concrete.”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” I said, leaning forward in my chair. “Let’s get Totsye in the same room with Harald and Adele, and even Millbank, if you like, and let me have a go at her. I don’t think it will take long.”

  Robin rolled his eyes. “Not again, Simon. Haven’t you tired of playing Poirot yet? Assembling the suspects in the drawing room is a bit much, don’t you think?”

  “Have you a better idea at the moment?” I said. “Do you want to run the risk that Totsye might try to do away with Adele de Montfort while you’re trying to get your concrete proof?”

  He shifted uneasily in his chair. “You win, Simon.” He called for one of his subordinates and began issuing orders. His men would find Totsye and the others and get them assembled at the scene of the crime.

  “Come along, Simon,” Robin said. “Let’s go.”