by A. Wendeberg
Barry was asked as to the severity of symptoms observed for each analysed sample, and while he was stating that the weakest were urine and stomach contents, and the strongest were liver, kidneys, and unguent, Sévère leant back and turned his head so that the attorneys for the defence could see his face. Sévère gave a small nod as Bicker met his gaze. One of the attorney’s two assistants — Mr Gladstone — rose, and took a note from Sévère.
When the judge told the defence that the witness was now theirs, Bicker called for a thirty minute break, for the defence to consult with the accused on an issue that had just arisen.
As the court room was emptied, Bicker indicated to Olivia that she was needed.
‘Dr Barry has just stated the obvious,’ Sévère said.
‘That Johnston was poisoned?’ Bicker must have meant it as a joke, but no one laughed.
‘That Johnston did not take the poison orally. According to the postmortem, it wasn’t injected, either. And honestly, wouldn’t Johnston have noticed if someone had pricked him with a needle?’ Sévère paused and hefted his gaze on Olivia. ‘Just before he died he said two things to me, and I didn’t pay much attention to the crucial one. God, how my hands burn, and you are hurting my arm. Whatever it was that contained the poison, Johnston touched it. His hands burned. I know from personal experience that aconitine is absorbed by the skin and that it causes a prickling, slightly burning sensation. What I do not know is whether the poison at a high-enough dosage can kill by contact, and if that dosage causes a painful burning sensation. And this, Mr Bicker, is what you will have to establish today.’
Bicker rubbed his chin. ‘And you have come up with this while the prosecution was trying to get you hanged?’
* * *
Once Dr Barry had taken his place on the witness stand, Bicker put on a confused expression. ‘Dr Barry, excuse my ignorance, but if the weakest effect was observed in the contents of the stomach, how likely is it that the deceased took the poison orally?’
‘It is…unlikely,’ Barry answered, frowning.
‘Unlikely or impossible?’
Barry thought about that for a moment, then answered, ‘Quite impossible.’
‘How, in your opinion, did the poison enter the body of the deceased?’
‘Well, as there were no needle marks found on his body, injections can be excluded. As his stomach content contained only trace amounts of aconitine, oral application can be excluded as well. I have never heard of anyone inhaling a powder of aconitine, and I don’t believe that possible. You see, the substance is highly irritating. It would cause a severe burning sensation in the airways. I can only imagine that a person inhaling it would choke, rather than die of poisoning.’
‘So you can’t think of any way the poison might have been administered?’
‘N-no,’ Barry said.
‘How much aconitin is required to kill a grown man?’
‘There has been only one fatal case that I know of. The quantity that proved fatal was known to be not less than one-twentieth part of a grain, and not more than one-thirteenth of a grain.’
‘How much, in your opinion, was present in the deceased?’
‘In my judgement, the stomach contents and the urine contained less than the fatal dose. Approximately one-seventieth to one-fiftieth of a grain. The liver and kidneys, however, contained considerably more. It was not less than one-tenth of a grain, and not more than one-sixth.’
‘What precisely does that mean?’
‘It means the poison had been absorbed by the body, but had not yet been excreted into the urine and faeces.’
‘Did you find any poison in the brandy?’
‘I did not.’
‘If not given orally or via injection, could the poison have entered Dr Johnston’s body via absorption through the skin?’
Dr Barry squeezed his eyes shut, uttered a single, ‘Hum,’ nodded slowly, and said, ‘It is possible.’
‘Did you analyse skin samples?’
‘No. We did not receive skin samples.’
‘And you did not ask for them after it became clear that the poison could not have been given orally or through a needle?’
‘I had not considered the possibility of the poison having entered through the skin. Not until you brought it up. ’
‘I see. You found the highest concentration of aconitine in the unguent?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you believe the prisoner could have rubbed a fatal amount of the unguent onto Dr Johnston’s skin without the latter noticing it?’
‘I… No, I do not.’
Giggling burst from the audience and quickly spread through the court room. The judge called for order and addressed the witness. ‘I should like to know whether or not the tests you performed are specific for aconitine.’
Barry nodded solemnly, his tongue searching his mouth for saliva to wet his dry throat. ‘The tests I conducted are general chemical tests for alkaloids. When I discovered an alkaloid, I performed physiological tests. Those of taste and of the effect upon the tongue and neighbouring parts, and then the other physiological test, whether it would kill after a defined course of symptoms.’
‘And there is not the least doubt that aconitine was present in all samples?’
‘Not the least doubt, my Lord.’
Bicker stroked his lapel, harrumphed, and said, ‘You are the leading expert in forensic toxicology?’
‘In Great Britain, I am, yes.’
‘Is it correct to say that there is no specific chemical test for aconitine?’
‘Yes, that is correct.’
‘And yet you insist that there is no doubt, not the least, that it is aconitine that killed Dr Johnston?’
‘I do insist.’
‘Do you know that Unguent aconitia is mentioned in the British Pharmacopoeia and that it contains aconite?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you aware that this unguent is used to relieve pain?
‘Yes. It is applied in cases of neuralgia, joint and muscle pain.’
Bicker picked up a copy of the British Pharmacopoeia. ‘Do you agree with this: “A piece of ointment the size of a bean or nut should be applied with friction, which enhances its efficacy.”’
‘Yes, this is correct.’
‘A piece the size of a bean or nut of the unguent found in the prisoner’s possession would contain a grain of aconitine, would it not?’
‘I believe it would contain barely half a grain.’
‘An amount sufficient to cut short pain, such as that of a person suffering from paralysis?’
‘Yes.’
‘An amount sufficient, according to your statement, to kill a man?’
‘Yes.’
‘As you can see, the prisoner is alive and well.’ Ignoring the amusement spreading through the room, Bicker continued, ‘In your statement you wrote that dilated pupils are a symptom of death by poison, and you therefore concluded Dr Peter Johnston was poisoned. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘You mean to say that, in your opinion, dilated pupils invariably point to death by poison?’
‘I did not say that—’
‘Isn’t it so that pupils of a dead person are invariably dilated three days after death?’
‘Yes. Yes, they are.’
‘So they are not a distinctive symptom of aconite poisoning?’
‘No, they are not.’
‘According to the statement of the prisoner, the deceased complained about a burning feeling of his hands. Could the man have touched a substance that contained aconitine in such a high concentration that he accidentally poisoned himself?’
‘I object!’ an attorney of the prosecution called. ‘The defence is asking the witness to speculate.’
‘I merely ask an expert in the field of forensic toxicology if it is generally possible to accidentally poison oneself by applying large amounts of aconitine onto one’s skin.’
‘Granted,’ the judge said,
and nodded at the witness to go on.
‘I have never heard of such a case, but I believe it would be possible.’
‘Thank you, Dr Barry.’ Bicker turned to the judge. ‘My Lord, I respectfully ask for an adjournment of three weeks, so the defence may be allowed time to exhume the remains of Dr Johnston, to procure skin samples and let them be analysed for aconitine.’
‘To what aim precisely, Mr Bicker?’
‘My learned colleague here,’ he waved at the solicitor-general, ‘…wants us to believe that the prisoner murdered Dr Johnston by poisoning him with aconitine. Yet, how the poison was administered is entirely unknown. It is furthermore unclear if Dr Johnston did indeed die of an aconitine poisoning event, or if he had simply used an unguent similar or identical to the one the prisoner was using, which resulted in elevated aconitine concentrations in his bodily fluids. The postmortem showed that the poison wasn’t given orally or via injection. How, then, did it enter the body? If Dr Johnston touched an object or a substance that contained a sufficient amount of aconitine to kill him, we need to know what it was, how it came into his hands, and with what — if any at all — intent. A life is at risk.’ His gaze slid to the black cap that lay limp and harmless near the judge’s elbow.
‘Very well. The trial is adjourned for three weeks.’
As the court room emptied, Sévère motioned to Bicker and handed him a note. ‘I need you to contact this barrister for me.’
Bicker paled. ‘What I said earlier was in…in the heat of the moment. Really, I cannot recommend changing your defence attorney in the middle of the—’
‘I don’t want him to defend me. I want him to help me modify my will.’
Exhumation
Olivia felt a soft tap on her elbow. She looked to her left, where Inspector Height stood, and lifted her eyebrows.
‘Are you quite all right?’ he asked.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?
‘Well…’ he cocked his head toward the hole. Ropes creaked, and pale-brown soil shifted off engraved wood. Four men perspired in the sweltering sun, their calloused hands strangely clean, their corded arms tanned. Another five men stood nearby, their heads bare, necks bowed, eyes on the casket.
She gave Height a curt nod, about to tell him that his concern was unnecessary, when a peacock butterfly landed on his chest. The insect prodded a yellow waistcoat button with its curly trunk, its wings snapping open and closed.
He huffed softly as it took off toward a summer lilac. ‘Doesn’t seem to approve of my taste in fashion.’
With a low, scraping noise the earthly remains of Dr Peter Johnston were revealed. A cloud of sharp and somewhat sweetish chemical odours rose. The casket lid was placed aside, and the four diggers stepped back.
If not for the smell and the waxy sheen of Johnston’s face, one might have believed him sleeping.
‘Will there be enough poison left to analyse after days in the ground?’ Olivia asked.
Dr Barry adjusted his hat. He had looked pale on the witness stand, but now his face and neck were suffering a sunburn.
‘I would hope so,’ he said and threw a glance at Dr Taylor and his two assistants, who had brought their instruments in two large black suitcases, and — for lack of a suitable table — the entrance door of a nearby pub. ‘Although,’ he added, ‘I fear the embalmment fluids may interfere with my analysis.’
‘In what way precisely?’ Olivia asked.
‘They are highly toxic and produce a sharp, stingy sensation on the tongue, followed by numbness. It might be impossible to identify a comparatively small quantity of aconitine among a much higher quantity of embalmment fluids.’
‘And if you injected it into a mouse? As you did earlier?’
‘The mouse might die from being embalmed alive before exhibiting any symptoms of aconitine poisoning.’
With a small, ‘Oh,’ Olivia fell silent. Her stomach sank.
Johnston’s body was lifted from the casket and placed upon the door that lay in the grass. Dr Taylor took a step forward. His Adams apple bobbed. ‘Mrs Sévère?’
‘Dr Taylor?’ Olivia replied, somewhat puzzled. Hadn’t he paid attention when he examined Dr Johnston’s body? Hadn’t he seen her then, and noticed that she had not passed out?
His assistants fumbled with their suitcases, the clasps seemingly too complicated to operate. Dr Taylor produced a small cough. Then he knelt on the sun-burnt lawn and began to unbutton Johnston’s jacket, waistcoat, and shirt. His fingers hovered over the trouser buttons for a moment before he undid those, too.
And that was when she understood. Everything had changed. They all knew what she was. Did they wonder if she had lusty thoughts whenever she beheld a naked male? Did they believe she would throw herself upon the corpse?
Perhaps it was much simpler: They didn’t wish to be seen in the presence of a whore.
Olivia’s throat clenched. She swallowed hard.
‘Mrs Sévère?’ Height whispered. ‘Would you like me to—’
She shut him up with a brisk shake of her head, and kept her eyes on the body. Johnston appeared unchanged. The salt and pepper hair covering his chest. The seams — coarse black thread pinching flaps of white and bluish skin together in a regular, winding pattern.
‘Knife,’ Dr Taylor said and held out a hand to his assistants. The handle was placed onto his palm, and he began slicing through the sutures. Once Johnston was opened, Taylor picked up the internal organs that were wrapped in pieces of cloth, placed them next to the body, and instructed his assistants to unpack each of them and take a sample for Dr Barry.
‘Are there any doubts as to the results of your first analyses?’ Olivia asked.
‘None whatever. But I’ll need these for comparison. One cannot treat one sample this way and another sample another way and hope to be able to compare the two. The symptoms the embalmed samples might cause are likely to differ from symptoms caused by fresh samples. Analysing all organs once more will allow me to better understand the effects of embalming fluids on the overall effects of aconitine on the tongue.’
Olivia nodded. She’d felt strangely detached from the procedure up until several small squares of skin were cut from Johnston’s palms. For some reason, it hurt to watch them do it.
The samples were bottled, the bottles sealed and packed away. When they made to lay Johnston back into the casket, Inspector Height interrupted, ‘Gentlemen, the Judge wishes to keep the body available for further analyses.’
Dr Taylor wiped his hands on a kerchief, and said, ‘He’ll keep fresh down there. Cooler than the morgue, for sure. If we have further need of him, we know where to find him.’ Then he nodded at the diggers to lower Johnston into his casket and back into the ground.
Olivia found Higgins smoking idly on the stairs to the house. ‘Walton Winspear,’ he said and flipped his cigarette butt into a nearby shrub. ‘It was Mr Burroughs who identified the man. Mr Winspear manages investments at London Joint Stock Bank. Mr Burroughs said the man wasn’t willing to share information on his client, Mr Frank.’
‘Did Mr Burroughs say what he plans to do next?’
‘Employ special methods, whatever he means by that. He’ll inform us as soon as he learns why Mr Frank needs Mr Winspear’s services.’ Higgins sucked air through his teeth and glanced at his fingertips, yellowed from tobacco.
She kicked dirt off her shoes. ‘Where are Rose and Alf?’
‘Haven’t seen a trace of them today.’ Higgins shrugged.
Frowning, Olivia made for the door. She strode through the hall and called for Netty, who arrived in a heartbeat. The housekeeper’s hair was in disarray and she was kneading her apron as if her life depended on it. ‘Mrs Sévère! A package has arrived!’
Olivia’s stomach dropped to her toes.
‘Alf wasn’t here and Higgins was…well, he wasn’t here either, was he? Cook was busy, and Marion can’t do anything with speed, and so I… I followed the boy.’
‘You did what?’
‘I followed the boy. He was very fast. Going left and right like a rabbit. And then…I lost him.’ Netty heaved in a breath, took off her cap and smoothed back her hair. Her fingers fluttered over her head, making sure nothing was out of order. Then she pinned the cap back onto her skull.
Throughout the procedure, Olivia was grinding her teeth. ‘Higgins!’ she called over her shoulder.
The coachman carried a faint cloud of tobacco aroma with him. ‘Another message?’
‘A package. I’m not certain, though, if Netty plans to hand it over or keep it for herself.’
Netty dropped the hairpin she’d held between her lips. A soft ping sounded from the marble floor. She excused herself, ran toward the parlour, and returned with a box tied with twine. ‘It is heavier than it looks,’ she provided, and blushed.
‘Stop right there!’ Higgins barked and snatched the package from Netty’s hands. He held it up to his ear and shook it.
‘Are you mad?’ Netty asked.
‘I read a story about a man who opened a package that was delivered by a stranger. A needle jumped out and pricked him. It was poisonous and he died.’
‘Now really, Mr Higgins!’
‘It was a detective story,’ the coachman muttered, and held the box out to Olivia. ‘Sounds like a stone to me.’ He stuck another cigarette into his mouth, but didn’t light it, just rolled it around between his lips.
Olivia undid the string, unfolded the brown paper and gingerly opened the box. She gasped.
Higgins eyed the contents. His cigarette dropped from his mouth. Netty’s neck grew longer, she blinked and produced a tiny grunt.
Olivia curled her fingers around the yellow lump and weighed it in her hand. ‘I’m not an expert, but this is heavy enough to be real.’
‘There is a note at the bottom,’ Higgins pointed out.
Olivia picked it up and read it.
I am sorry.
‘What’s that supposed to mean? Sorry for what? And why send me gold?’ She dropped her hands, the lump of gold in one fist, the box and the note in the other. ‘Higgins, we need to find a jeweller.’