Mac glanced over at Jenny Williams. Her eyes were wide with surprise. This was obviously all news to her.
‘So I forgot all about Philippa, I made myself forget, until I had you love.’
She gently touched the side of her daughter’s face.
‘You were so beautiful, so innocent and then I thought about the baby I’d given up. She’d been innocent too, hadn’t she? I mean it wasn’t her fault she was born. So as Jenny here grew up I started thinking how old Philippa would be and I’d fantasise about what she’d look like and what she’d be doing. I prayed every day that they’d found her a good home and that she was happy. I eventually went to an adoption agency and talked to someone there. I thought about what they’d said to me and decided I’d wait for her to contact me but she never did.’
Jenny Corning tried to say something but her mother stopped her.
‘Just let me say it all now love, no more secrets. I went to the agency again and that’s when they told me that Philippa had died. They didn’t say how though, I had to try and find that out for myself but I didn’t even know where to start. I went to the library for some advice and I asked the librarian about how I could find out more about a death. She asked me for the details and when I told her Philippa’s name I could see a look of surprise on her face.’
‘I take it this is Anne Holding you’re talking about?’ Andy prompted.
‘Yes it was Anne. She was very kind to me that day. We went and had a coffee together. I didn’t tell her that I was Philippa’s mother though, I told her that I was a third cousin or something and I was doing some family research. She told me then that Philippa had committed suicide but no-one seemed to know exactly why. She also told me of Philippa’s love for Jane Austen and all about the Society. I didn’t know anything about Jane at the time but I did love Pride and Prejudice when it was on the telly. I asked about the Society and if I could join but, from what Anne told me, they didn’t sound like the type of people I’d get on with. Then she mentioned that she had her own little group and asked if I’d like to come and try it out.
So I went and I thought they were all lovely and learning more about Jane’s books made me feel a little closer to Philippa. Then one evening, when the meeting was at Diane’s, we’d all had a glass of wine too many and Anne told us about the last time she’d seen Philippa and how Catherine had bullied the poor girl into suicide. I’d finally found out what had caused my daughter to take her own life and, in that moment, I knew that I had to do something about it. It was the very least I owed her.
I remembered hearing my husband once mentioning thallium, about how it was odourless and tasteless. The poisoner’s poison he’d called it. I hadn’t opened his shed since the day he’d died but I found it easily enough, my husband was very meticulous when it came to labelling his chemicals. The only problem was I wasn’t sure of how much to use, so I just guessed. Catherine and some of her cronies used to visit the café I work in every week so I put some in her coffee, obviously not enough as she was still walking around the day afterwards. I tried again the next week, a bit more this time, but it still didn’t finish her off. I started watching her and when I saw that she regularly ran along the same route I came up with the idea of swapping her water bottle for one filled with a higher concentration of thallium but she still wouldn’t die. Afterwards I could only think it was because she hadn’t drunk it all.
Then, one day when Molly was telling us about how cruel Catherine had been to her, she let it slip about how easy it was to get into Catherine’s house. She told us all about the key under the stone and her burglar alarm code being 4-3-2-1. So I decided that this time I was going to make absolutely sure that she got the right dose. I watched her when she went out one morning and then located the key and got a copy made. Then a few nights later I went to her house.
I brought a hammer with me just in case she put up a fight but it was easy, so easy. She lay on the bed like a baby and was utterly defenceless as I poured the poison down her throat. I felt nothing, all I could see while I did it was my poor Philippa hanging by her neck. She was now finally getting some justice. I knew someone would find out eventually that it was me but I thought I should spend as much time with Jenny as I could in the meantime. So there you are.’
She smiled brightly at the three men opposite her.
‘If you felt so protective about your daughter why did you refuse to see her not once but twice?’ Andy asked.
She looked mystified.
‘No dear, Philippa never contacted me, not once, never mind twice. I’d been hoping for years that she would but then I thought perhaps she’s happy with her life and she doesn’t need me. I waited for her to contact me but she never did.’
‘Yes she did, twice. The adoption agency showed us the records,’ Andy stated.
‘No, they must be wrong dear, I’d never turn my back on my own daughter, never!’ she said fiercely.
Andy continued, ‘The morning of the ball Philippa received a letter from the adoption agency stating for the second time that you didn’t want contact with her. Catherine Gascoigne at the ball talked to her as a character from the novel, a character that had a mother she was very close to. Catherine didn’t bully her, at least not intentionally. She had Asperger’s and probably couldn’t see that your daughter was getting upset. She’d unintentionally rubbed salt into an open wound but we think it was the letter that made your daughter kill herself.’
Peggy looked absolutely mystified. Mac had been watching Jennifer closely during this exchange and thought he now had the answer.
‘Perhaps someone answered for you. Tell me who deals with all the post in your house?’ he asked.
‘Why Jenny does, don’t you dear? She’s a secretary you know so…’
Peggy stopped in mid-sentence and looked at her daughter with something near horror.
‘You didn’t love, please Jenny say you didn’t.’
All the colour drained from her daughter’s face as she said, ‘I was so sure it was a mistake. I didn’t want to upset you with it so I just replied and said that they’d got the wrong person. You always said that there were never had any secrets between us, you always said that, didn’t you mum? It was always it was just you and me against the world, that’s what you used to say. No secrets except for the fact that I had a sister of course. Oh God mom what have I done? I didn’t mean…’
She burst into tears. Peggy hugged her daughter hard.
‘It wasn’t you love, not you, it was all my fault. I should have told you but I just couldn’t. Shame is such a terrible thing, isn’t it? As an adult I used to look at fourteen year old girls and say to myself that I’d just been a kid at the time, how could any of it be my fault? It didn’t stop me feeling ashamed though, it’s something that stains your very soul.’
Still holding her daughter she turned her head towards Andy as what he’d said just seemed to sink in.
‘You’re telling me now that Catherine was blameless? May God forgive me, keeping my dirty little secret to myself has killed two innocent people.’
Her face crumpled and tears raced down her cheeks too. The two women hugged each other and Mac felt an intense sorrow knowing that they’d soon be parted and probably for life.
Andy then formally charged Peggy Corning and left Toni to take her statement.
In the corridor he turned and shook Mac’s hand.
‘Another result but I have to admit that I don’t take the least bit of pleasure from it.’
‘Yes, I know justice must be done but who’s to really blame here? If I thought someone was responsible for killing my daughter I honestly don’t know what I’d do, then to find out that it was keeping her secret that had really caused it all.’
‘Anyway who’d have thought that finding a dead squirrel would lead to all this?’
‘Life can be so bloody strange at times,’ Mac conceded.
Andy looked at his watch, it was just gone four-thirty.
‘After that I
really need a drink, is it too early for a pint?’
‘It’s never too early for a pint,’ Mac stated with utter certainty.
‘I’m in,’ Leigh said.
One of the detectives called Andy over and spoke to him.
‘Sorry Mac, is it okay if Toni and me join you in around an hour or so?’ Andy asked.
As he and Leigh walked the short distance to the Magnets Mac couldn’t help wondering how Philippa Hatch might have turned out if she’d have been born to different parents. Life can be such a lottery and unfortunately some people are given a losing ticket the second they’re born.
He suddenly thought of Tim who he’d been neglecting recently. He rang him and Tim said he’d meet them in half an hour. He had a bit of French polishing to finish off.
He looked at Leigh as she returned with the drinks. He thought now might be a good time to find a few things out.
‘Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?’
She thought about it for a moment.
‘No. I don’t suppose so,’ she said uncertainly.
‘What’s your real first name?’
‘What!’ she exclaimed with a surprised smile.
‘I suspected when you first introduced yourself that Leigh wasn’t your real name. I figured that you might be one of those people who’ve been called something embarrassing by their parents. Am I right?’
‘And there was me on my first day thinking that I’d been landed with a right old duffer. You’re right, Leigh isn’t the name on my birth certificate.’
Mac gave her a big smile.
‘Come on then, what is it?’
She looked up to the ceiling and then heaved a huge sigh.
‘My bloody mother! Oh I really love her and all that but I don’t think I ever really forgave her for calling me… Kylie.’
Mac couldn’t help laughing.
‘Kylie? Really? That name definitely doesn’t suit you.’
‘That’s what I thought too. She was a big fan of Kylie Minogue, still is, and she still calls me Kylie even though I’ve had my name changed by deed poll. I’ve got my big brother to thank for the name I use now. He knew I hated Kylie so he cut it down and started calling me Lee instead and I thank him every day for it. When I changed my name I changed the spelling to Leigh, it looked a little more feminine I suppose. I’d be really grateful if you kept this to yourself though.’
‘Don’t worry your secret’s safe with me.’
‘You said you had two questions?’ Leigh prompted him.
Mac’s face showed that this question was a bit more serious.
‘Yes. Tell me just how bad was it at your last station?’
She gave him a startled look but said nothing.
Mac went on.
‘I’d assumed that Monday had been your first day as a detective and I thought that was why you were being so skittish. However you knew far more about the job than a new starter would know and that, plus Andy letting you out by yourself, gave me the idea that you’d been a detective somewhere else before coming here. You were being very defensive about everything so I also figured that it couldn’t have been an altogether positive experience.’
She gave him a sad look.
‘You can say that again. I worked on the beat in East London and, once I made detective, I worked out of the same station. I was the only woman on the team and the rest of the team were mostly middle aged men. The DI was a bastard, one of those men who like women but only if they’re naked and in a magazine. He was always making little comments, comments that could be taken two ways if you know what I mean. Of course the rest of the team followed his lead and would laugh their stupid heads off. The worst of it was that by the end they’d almost convinced me that it was my fault, that I was being too thin-skinned. They’d brag about the women they’d shagged and then, when I made it clear that I’d sooner be nailed to a tree than go to bed with any of them, they spread it around that I was a lesbian. I’m not though.’
‘It shouldn’t matter a damn if you were,’ Mac said with feeling. ‘I’m sorry for you but unfortunately I’ve come across too many coppers like that. They confuse being macho with being a good copper. I was lucky, when I took the murder team over my boss had already weeded out that type long before. ’
‘Anyway I came here expecting more of the same I suppose but it’s not the same is it?’ she said.
‘I’d hope not. Andy’s a serious copper and his heart’s definitely in the right place.’
‘If I’m honest I also thought that I was going to be the only woman on the team again. Then I met Toni. When I first heard the name I just assumed she’d be a man. We’ve had some good chats. She’s very nice.’
‘So what do you think now?’
‘I’m beginning to think I made the right decision in coming here.’
‘I think you probably have as well. I had to move too you know. I was a copper in Central Birmingham before I joined the Met. There’s something about not being from the place you’re policing, I think you can be a bit more objective and see things that the locals hardly notice.’
‘So why did you make the move?’ she asked.
Mac spotted Tim striding up the hill and smiled.
‘Stick around. It’s a really good story and one day I’ll tell you all about it.’
Yet another poisoning
This one was special. He’d seen his next project on the television smirking and laughing. None of his victims were laughing.
Another financial scam but this time ordinary people had been affected. Houses had burnt down, homes had been robbed, husbands and wives had died and, after years paying their premiums, people were now told that they weren’t covered. It had happened to a neighbour of his, a friend. This was a scam too far in his opinion. It was giving the insurance business a bad name.
He decided that Mr. T was far too good for this one. Something a little stronger perhaps.
He knew his days were numbered so he’d had to prioritise his operations a little. However there was no doubt in his mind who was number one on his list. He’d watched his victim carefully. He was a whisky drinker which was good and another thing he’d noticed that was also good was that when the division bell rang he’d knock back whatever he had left in his glass before marching off to vote.
He knew he’d just have to bide his time and wait. He’d bought a large Macallen whisky and had added the secret ingredient. It would make it taste bitter so he didn’t want his victim to just sip at it. He waited until finally the bell rang and then he quickly switched glasses. He’d been careful to hold the glass using a paper napkin so he wouldn’t leave any prints. The man didn’t even look, he just grabbed the glass, knocked it back and made towards the door.
He waited a few moments before quietly making his way out of the building. The special ingredient would only take fifteen minutes or so to start working and he knew with some certainty that his victim wouldn’t even make it to the hospital. He just wished that he’d been there to witness it though, the vomiting, the convulsions and the body spasms. It would not be an easy death. He had robbed vulnerable people and then smirked about it.
He deserved no better.
Chapter Eighteen
Four days later
Mac was once again sitting in his office waiting for something to happen. His pulse quickened when he heard a heavy tread in the hallway and Andy Reid opened the door. It had been four days since Peggy Corning’s confession.
‘How are you keeping Mac?’ Andy asked.
‘I’m fine apart from being bored stiff. When I heard your footsteps I said a little prayer that this is going to be a bit more than just a social visit.’
Andy smiled.
‘I was hoping you’d say something like that. Have a look at this,’ he said as he passed him a small black notebook. It looked quite old and battered.
‘What is it?’ he asked as he riffled through the pages. Each page was written on, a clear hand using a fountain pen with
blue ink. The ink was somewhat faded now.
‘Forensics found it in one of the drawers in John Corning’s lab. We’ve all had a quick look but none of us can make head or tail of it, however, for some reason I think it could be important. Also you weren’t too far wrong when you said there was enough chemicals in that shed to poison half of Letchworth. Forensics said that they’ve never had to remove such a large quantity of highly toxic material from a residential property before. Apparently this John Corning really knew what he was doing from what they’ve told me. But why was he doing it? Even when he was dying he kept on working in his lab. It’s got me really intrigued. Unfortunately there isn’t a case as such so I can’t put any police resource into it.’
‘What’s his background?’
‘He did a degree in Chemistry with Maths but apparently the maths won and he ended up working as an actuary for an insurance company.’
‘So he was a trained chemist. I suppose he used the lab to keep his hand in but I agree there might be something else going on. I’ll have a look. Did you ask Peggy Corning what her husband used to get up to in the shed?’
‘Yes I asked but she said absolutely nothing. She’d talk about anything else but, in all the interviews, the only thing she said about her husband was that he was a good man. That was it.’
‘Looks like it’s up to me then,’ Mac said with a grin.
He looked carefully at each page. While some of the early ones had what looked like chemical notations and random notes it was the later entries looked more interesting. They all had the same structure. That structure consisted of something that almost looked like letters and numbers but they made no immediate sense to Mac. If it was a true code then he was sunk, he was no expert in codes. However if its function was that of a record or memory aid then it might be some sort of shorthand.
The Dead Squirrel (The Mac Maguire detective mysteries Book 2) Page 16