Purple Death

by Brian L. Porter

  Without another word, Lucy Clay rose and left the office. She'd have a team of officers making inquiries within fifteen minutes.

  “A useful first conference, eh Sean?” asked Charles Carrick as the meeting drew to a close.

  “Definitely Charles, thanks for bringing us the first piece of really useful information,” Connor replied.

  He'd given the West Midlands detectives a copy of the files on the Richmond killings. It included all that he and Clay had learned of the victims so far, and also a copy of the interview Lucy Clay had conducted with Professor Medwin. As Connor had said to Carrick, there wasn't much in the way of concrete information contained in the Richmond file, but perhaps as time went by and the two teams of detectives worked together, something might suddenly take on a new importance that had so far eluded them. Carrick and Cole promised to read and digest every word of the file after lunch, and then it would be time for the Birmingham police officers to return to their own patch. From then onwards however, the two inspectors would work closely together, both on the telephone, and with regular get-togethers, until the case was solved.

  Both Connor and Carrick knew that it was now only a matter of time before they began to piece this case together. In the case of David Arnold, they now felt that they had the `how?' now all they needed was the `who?' and the `why?'

  If and when they could answer those questions in relation to the Richmond victims as well, they'd have their killer but as they both knew, for the time being `chocolate woman' was still out there somewhere, perhaps with a deadly supply of tasty treats, so, until they could put a name and face to the lady and until she could be brought in to face her just deserts no-one on her list, if indeed she had one, could be considered safe.

  For now though it was time for lunch, and whether by design or not, Connor noticed that not one of the four of the officers who'd met around the desk in his office that morning ordered the tasty chocolate dessert that was offered on the police canteen menu.

  After Dinner Speaking

  Lunch over, the four detectives gathered once more in the office of Sean Connor. It would be a short meeting as Carrick and Cole had to leave for their return journey to Birmingham by mid-afternoon. They still had their own independent investigation to continue in the West Midlands and their own investigative team would be awaiting their return in order to find out what the two men had learned from their counterparts on the Richmond end of the investigation.

  As they took their seats around Sean Connor's desk it was Connor himself who voiced the one point that had been on all of their minds since the morning meeting and which now needed discussing before the two teams separated.

  “There is of course one scenario that we must seriously consider,” he began; “and that is that there is more than one killer involved here. After all, the deaths of Sam Gabriel, Virginia Remick and David Arnold all took place on the same day and all within a couple of hours of each other so it's almost impossible that one killer could have been in two or three places at once in order to administer the lethal doses of poison. If we assume that this `chocolate woman' was the one who gave David Arnold a poisoned chocolate then, unless she'd given Gabriel and Remick similar doses the day before with a very clever and very long time-delayed action, we have to assume that someone else was in Richmond in order to give them the poison.”

  Lucy Clay stopped twiddling the lock of her short blonde fringe that Connor knew to be his sergeant's trademark when deep in thought. She had been silent almost from the moment they'd re-entered the office. Now, having deliberated in her own mind for what seemed an age, she spoke:

  “Actually Sir, if you'll all take a look at the notes of my interview with Professor Medwin, he did in fact raise the possibility of the killer having used a time-delay mechanism to deliver the poison. If the killer has sufficient medical and pharmaceutical knowledge and the professor believes that everything so far points to that possibility, then he or she could have refined the aconite down to small dissolvable pellets and sealed them into the kind of capsules you often get your prescription medicines in. He or she could even have obtained slow dissolving capsules of over the counter medicines such as ibuprofen, emptied the original contents, and placed the poison inside, together with a catalyst that would delay the release of the contents or at least allow for a slow release of the aconite over a period of hours. If small enough they could have been hidden in a fair sized chocolate and the victim might not have even known they'd swallowed it.”

  “I see,” said Carrick, “and of course, if that is the case, then we could be looking for more than two people here. The killer could be like a spider sitting in the centre of a web, and this woman, and others perhaps are his `angels of death', lets call them; being sent out to deliver his packages of poison to targets anywhere he directs them.”

  “So we could be looking for someone who isn't even in Richmond, Liverpool, or Penzance,” added Sergeant Lewis Cole.

  “Bloody Hell,” said Connor, “how much worse can this damned case get? We're already getting nowhere fast and now we're raising more questions than we have answers for.”

  The others all knew that Sean Connor was right. The deeper they dug into this case, the more the options for confusion were arising. Were they looking for multiple killers, or one killer with a host of accomplices willing to do his or her bidding in delivering the poison to the victims?

  “Another thing,” Charles Carrick volunteered, “is the method of delivery to the victims. In the case of David Arnold and Sam Gabriel, it's highly likely that they would have been susceptible to accepting a chocolate from a pretty woman. The same applies to Mrs Remick. After all most ladies of my acquaintance are partial to chocolates, but what about Judge Tolliver? From what we know he rarely left his home, and his manservant would have known if anyone had delivered anything to the old man on the day of his death.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Connor then directed his next words to his sergeant.

  “Lucy, did anyone ask DeVere if there'd been any callers at the house on the day of Judge Tolliver's death?”

  “Yes Sir, I asked him myself, but I've just realised, bearing in mind what we've been discussing, that I didn't ask if there'd been any visitors the day before he died. How could I have been so stupid as to fail to ask him that? Oh, he did leave the house for an hour to go to the shops, so there was a small window of opportunity for the killer then, but I'll speak to DeVere again as soon as we finish here”

  “It's not your fault,” said Connor. “We didn't know at that stage about the possibility of the time-delay capsules. Tell me, did Professor Medwin say anything more about the capsule theory? For instance, why didn't they show up in the post-mortem examinations?”

  “That's easy to answer,” she replied. “Usually the capsules themselves are made from a totally dissolvable granulated gelatine substance that disappears without trace once digested. In the trade they're apparently known as hard-shell capsules, and they are manufactured to a very high degree of tolerances and accuracy according to the final end use of the individual capsule. Once digested they'd be almost untraceable. We wouldn't have known what to look for it hadn't been for the professor.”

  “Very clever,” said Carrick. “So I think it's safe to assume that we're looking for someone with specialist knowledge then.”

  “Without a doubt,” Connor agreed.

  The telephone on Connor's desk began to ring. He answered it with a gruff, “I thought I asked not to be disturbed,” to the unfortunate telephonist on the switchboard.

  “Sorry Inspector,” came the poor woman's disembodied voice. “It's Doctor Nickels. She said it was vitally important that she speak to you right away.”

  “OK, put her through,” said Connor, instantly calming down and actually thinking that the woman had used a fair bit of initiative in disturbing his conference. Most of the switchboard staff would have obeyed his instructions to the letter. This girl, whoever she was, had realised the importance of the call and r
isked his wrath in order to help him. He'd seek her out later and thank her personally.

  “Catherine,” he said as the connection was made.

  Catherine Nickels spoke to Sean Connor for about two minutes, with the inspector hardly saying a word, just nodding from time to time and making noises of assent to whatever the pathologist was relating to him.

  At last, he replaced the phone on the cradle, having wished the doctor a good afternoon and thanking her for the information. He turned to the others and announced:

  “Doctor Nickels just told me that Judge Tolliver had enough aconite in his system to have killed a horse, no, in fact, two horses. The other victims all received a lethal dose but nothing in the vicinity of this amount apparently. Whoever did this made sure that there was no chance whatsoever of Judge Tolliver surviving the attack. According to Catherine Nickels this was definitely a case of overkill.”

  Carrick sat dissembling this latest piece of information for a moment then responded;

  “You know Sean, I have a feeling that the judge might be the key to all this. He was a high court judge for years wasn't he? Perhaps we should be looking for someone with a grudge against the old boy.”

  “Yes,” added Cole, “and maybe the other victims are linked to the judge through a case he sat in judgement on.”

  “That's the best theory we've come up with so far,” Connor seemed pleased. “It would certainly fit with what we know so far, and would perhaps explain why the judge received such a terrifyingly high dose of the poison, if he was the one responsible for putting someone away who felt hard done to or aggrieved enough to commit murder. We need to look into the judge's case files, find out what he was involved in over the last, I don't know, maybe the last ten or fifteen years of his career. That would mean going back at least twenty years or so as I think he'd been retired for at least five years.”

  “I'll get some men on it right away Sir,” said Lucy Clay determinedly.

  “Good, and make sure they look into the criminals, the criminals' families, and the victims,” Connor replied. “It might sound stupid, but this killer could even be a victim who felt let down by the judge letting some evil bastard get off lightly with a crime and who feels that justice wasn't properly served.”

  “Could be a long list,” said Clay.

  “Got any better ideas Sergeant?” Connor asked.

  “No Sir, leave it to me. I'll get some good men on it,” Lucy replied.

  As the meeting broke up soon afterwards and Connor, Carrick, Clay and Cole shook hands all round, the Birmingham detective spoke to Connor one last time before leaving.

  “You know Sean; I really think we might be on to something with the Tolliver link. Maybe the killer was sending us a twisted message with the over the top dose of poison administered to the judge, you know, like making us sit up and take notice. Perhaps we were supposed to make the link about the judge and a past case. Maybe the killer is playing us along, and leading us to where he or she wants us to go.”

  “Maybe Charles, but the only place that bastard is going is straight to jail when we lay hands on him, or her, along with the chocolate woman and any more of these `angels of death' if they exist.”

  Carrick and Cole took their leave of the Richmond detectives and Lucy Clay went to organise the search through Judge Tolliver's files and also to speak to his manservant about possible callers the day before the judge's death.

  Sean Connor sat back in his office chair and reflected on the day's events, and on the meeting with Carrick and Cole. He knew they were two good men, and could be relied on to treat the case with as much professionalism and diligence as he and Clay would apply to it here in Richmond. Connor also felt that they were getting somewhere, and that the investigation into the cases of Judge Tolliver could be the key to solving the case. He was a man who trusted his instincts, and at that moment all of those instincts told him that he and the others had, by diligent detective work, arrived at the one feasible theory for the deaths of the four victims. He just hoped that they would be able to find the link between the judge and the killer before anyone else fell victim to the deadly poison that, even at that moment could be waiting in an innocent looking capsule, disguised as a tempting chocolate or some other equally tasty food trap for the next victim to unknowingly ingest.

  Only time would tell in the case of the last scenario, and time, as Sean Connor knew was most definitely not on his side. The theory was sound, that he knew, but so far he had no flesh to put on the bones of that theory. Had he known what was yet to unfold in the case of the aconite poisoner Sean Connor might not have felt quite as confident in his ability to bring the case to a successful conclusion, but then, as he knew from bitter experience, knowing the how and the why still wouldn't necessarily lead him to the who?

  For now though he would have to proceed slowly, one tentative step at a time. A short while ago they had had questions, but no answers. Now at least, they were on the verge of at least answering some of the more basic of those questions. At any rate, that's what he thought at the time. Looking out of his window at the sun-drenched car park below, he allowed himself a moment of relaxation, closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Then, with his resolve set at maximum Sean Connor rose from his chair, departed from his office and made his way out of the building without speaking to anyone on the way. He had work to do, and he knew just where he was going.

  Afternoon Tea with the Strides

  “I said no, and I mean no, and that's my last word on the subject Mikey. Now, will you please drop it?”

  Michael Stride was quite taken aback by his eldest sister's tirade. He was used to a more refined tone from Mary, what with her being a doctor and all. She was normally so laid back and as a rule would never raise her voice, particularly towards Mikey. Now however, his sister appeared to be angry with him, though he couldn't quite make out why she needed to be so aggressive towards him.

  “Look Mary,” he began, only for his sister to interrupt him;

  “No, you look Mikey. I've had a long hard day and then I come home and Angela tells me you want to go raking up the past all over again and bringing more hurt and shame on this family. Well, I'm telling you now, I just will not allow it. Do you understand?”

  Michael certainly didn't need his sight to imagine his sister going red in the face with anger at that moment. He felt he had little choice but to acquiesce to her demands that he give up his quest, at least for the time being.

  “O.K. Mary, I'm sorry. I just thought we might be able to offer some useful information, something that might help, that's all.”

  “Like what Mikey? Go on, tell me what we could possibly do that would help the police? It was thirty years ago Mikey, and we all know what happened back then don't we? Shit, it was bad enough that you had the misfortune to be born with only one leg, and that not much use as it is, but then to lose your sight through the sheer shock of what happened back then. Well, no I will not let it happen again. The past is the past and it can remain buried forever as far as you're concerned. Now, is that clear? I'll tolerate no more talk of us going to or even talking to the police.”

  “I think you've made it very clear, thank you Mary,” he replied, feeling more useless at that moment than he could remember in a long time. Michael certainly didn't need his sister to remind him of his incapacity, or his day to day dependency on her and Angela. He was only too aware of his disabilities and though he would have wished his life to have taken a very different path, Michael had no choice other than to go along with his sister's wishes if he wished to continue his relatively peaceful and well cared for existence.

  Mary seemed to calm down. She was also aware that she had perhaps spoken a little too harshly to her brother, who had no idea how much she and Angela had sacrificed over the years in order that they could look after him, in Mary's mind at least. Then again, she knew it wasn't his fault and her compassion for her brother now slowly began to overtake her anger. Mary moved across the room and sat beside her bro
ther on the sofa, gently placing her right arm around his shoulder.

  “I'm sorry Mikey,” she said softly in his ear. “I shouldn't have said those things. They were cruel and hurtful and uncalled for. Please forgive me little brother.”

  Michael reached out his hand across his sister's lap and took hold of her left hand.

  “It's OK Mary, really,” he said. “I know it's hard for you, and you do so much to look after me. I don't want to make things difficult; for you or for Angela. You should know that. I was only thinking of our civic duty, but you're right of course. What bearing could what happened when we were kids have on what's happening today? I won't mention it again, honest.”

  Mary squeezed his hand and rose from the sofa. In reality, although she loved her brother dearly she often felt uncomfortable when she sat in very close proximity to him as she just had. She knew she shouldn't feel like that of course, but she couldn't help it, it always affected her that way. The fact that she experienced those feelings always gave Mary a feeling of guilt, a hatred of her own self for feeling like that towards her crippled brother, and that in itself made her try to keep such moments to a minimum.

  “Angela,” she called, knowing that her sister would be in earshot, just along the hall in the kitchen. “I think Mikey is ready for his meal now.”

  Angela came rushing busily into the room, carrying a tray containing Mikey's afternoon meal. He always had a sandwich and a cold drink about this time of day, and Angela had had it all prepared and ready when Mary arrived home. She'd told her sister of Mikey's conversation with her that morning, and Mary had made her hold the meal back until she'd spoken with their brother. Now that the argument was over and done with, the household could get back to normal, if any day in the Stride household