Mercy or Mercenary?

by Sheila Parker

  ‘Hang on a minute, sir. Could you clarify some of that?’

  ‘Good idea. It will help me to clear my mind before deciding what to do,’ and seeing Tom’s puzzled expression, Kershaw enlarged, ‘when Isabel collapsed after being so sick, Elspeth rang for the ambulance and then the doctor, who went directly to the hospital. Sometime later, Elspeth told Beresford that Isabel and Duncan had been invited to dinner by Kieran O’Brien, Adare’s nephew.’

  ‘My God! That couldn’t have been a coin…’ Kershaw ignored this interruption and continued. ‘The doctor learnt from Duncan, who had not been sick, that the other guests were a couple called Baumgarten.’

  ‘Are they all right?’

  ‘They might have been sick at home, but no one else was admitted to hospital.’

  ‘Was something added to Isabel’s food? What did they eat? Who did the cooking? What caused…?’

  Tom stopped abruptly when Kershaw told him, ‘Dr Beresford will phone as soon as he receives the results.’

  ‘I can’t stay here. I’m not really ill,’ protested Isabel when Elspeth visited her later that afternoon.

  ‘Dr Beresford insists. I don’t think you realise how ill you were last night; you’re still very weak.’

  Elspeth looked at Isabel and tried to keep her voice light. ‘Relax and try to sleep. Then, if you feel up to it, Duncan would like to see you, possibly this evening, just for a few minutes.’

  ‘Is he all right? I wonder if the other guests—’

  ‘He’s fine,’ interrupted Elspeth, for some reason recalling that the smell in Isabel’s bathroom had been disgusting even that morning, in spite of disinfectant, air freshener and leaving the window wide open. She had been surprised that Dr Beresford had wanted a sample analysed but supposed this happened after someone had been so ill. As she bent to kiss Isabel’s cheek, Elspeth noticed her waxy complexion and clammy hands and was glad when a nurse appeared, studied Isabel as she lay back against the pillows and nodded approvingly.

  ‘That’s right, my dear. You lie there comfortably and try to sleep.’

  As she accompanied Elspeth into the corridor, the nurse resumed, ‘I’m glad to see Mrs McGuire is improving. The night team were very worried about her and wondered if anyone else was going to be brought in.’ Then glancing at Elspeth, ‘You don’t look too good. Did you eat the same thing?’

  ‘No, I wasn’t invited. It’s just that I didn’t sleep. I was worried about Isabel.’

  ‘There’s no need for you to do that now. You can rest assured that we’ll take great care of her.’

  ‘I wonder if Kieran and Marina or the Baumgartens were sick,’ said Duncan as he sat facing Elspeth across the kitchen table. He had promised to call in on his way home from the hospital and had been relieved to see that Isabel did not look as bad as Elspeth had described, and was not surprised when Isabel told him that her tummy felt extremely sore.

  ‘I was really grateful when Dr Beresford arrived at the hospital so quickly. He was very concerned about Isabel and I’m glad he’s keeping her in hospital until tomorrow, maybe Thursday.’

  ‘So am I.’ Duncan flicked through the telephone directory. ‘I think Kieran should be—’

  ‘No,’ interrupted Elspeth. ‘I was going to do that this morning but Dr Beresford told me not to do anything. He’s waiting for the results of the tests and said if there was anything untoward he would take the appropriate steps.’

  ‘That sounds ominous.’

  9

  It was late afternoon when Inspector Kershaw answered the phone and his expression immediately became sombre as he asked, ‘Could you repeat that?’ Detective Sergeant Small watched as the inspector listened and nodded, at the same time muttering to himself, then eventually Kershaw asked, ‘Do you know what caused this, where it came from?’ and finally, ‘could Isabel have died?’

  Bursting with curiosity, Tom struggled to remain patient as Kershaw asked more pertinent questions and finally said, ‘Let me know as soon as you hear, please. However, how long do you propose to keep Isabel in hospital?’

  ‘What—’ began Tom.

  But he was quickly silenced by Kershaw saying, ‘Time for us to see Kieran O’Brien and the Baumgartens.’ However, as they set off for Henleaze, Tom learnt that some type of berry had been added to Isabel’s main course, but further tests were being carried out. Dr Beresford would advise the chief inspector as soon as he heard the results.

  Kieran’s displeasure was obvious as he answered the front door and demanded, ‘What d’you want?’

  ‘Police’ said Kershaw as he and Tom quickly produced their warrant cards. ‘We’d like to ask you a few questions about the dinner party you gave on Monday evening.’

  ‘Which is nothing to do with you.’

  ‘But it could be, especially as one of your guests was rushed into hospital and…’

  ‘What!’ exclaimed a female voice and an attractive brunette appeared behind Kieran. ‘You can’t keep these police officers standing on the doorstep,’ she said, addressing Kershaw. ‘Please come in.’ Once the front door was closed and they were ushered into a medium-sized, sparsely furnished lounge she asked, ‘What happened?’ then, seeing Kershaw’s raised eyebrows, ‘I’m Marina Bushell, Kieran’s partner. Can I offer you some tea or coffee?’

  ‘Is it Belinda or Stefan?’ enquired Kieran a few moments later when the two detectives were seated. ‘I haven’t seen either of them in the garden.’

  Kershaw knew that their gardens backed onto each other and noted the concern in his voice. ‘No, it was Mrs McGuire…’

  ‘Was?’ interrupted Kieran.

  ‘You don’t mean she’s dead!’ This came from Marina whose voice was almost a whisper.

  Kershaw noticed that Kieran, standing almost rigid, remained silent and was glad when Tom said, ‘Haven’t you anything else to say, Mr O’Brien? Mrs McGuire was a guest in your house, ate your food…’

  ‘Are you insinuating there was something wrong with it? I’ve had friends to dinner before, cooked the same dish and everyone was fine.’ Then glancing at Marina, ‘That was when I lived in a tiny flat and before I knew you. No one was ever ill.’

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ said Marina. ‘You bought the food and cooked the meal,’ then turning to the inspector, ‘I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. I spent some time in the utility room where I did a small flower arrangement and then laid the table.’

  ‘You enjoy cooking, Mr O’Brien?’ queried Kershaw then, without pausing, ‘have a look in the kitchen, Sergeant.’

  ‘You can’t do that,’ protested Kieran. ‘It’s… it’s an infringement of our privacy. You need a search warrant.’

  ‘Which could easily be obtained. Mrs McGuire almost died and is still seriously ill as a result of food poisoning.’ Kershaw could see that Kieran was now looking worried but, in spite of this, reminded him, ‘From food eaten in your house.’

  As Marina led Tom into the hall and towards the kitchen, Kershaw resumed, catching Kieran unawares, ‘Why didn’t you contribute something towards Leo Adare’s biography? There must have been some amusing anecdotes from when you were a small boy. After all, he is your uncle…’

  ‘He certainly didn’t behave like one. There was no avuncular affection,’ expostulated Kieran. ‘We hardly ever saw him, even after my father pushed off. You would have thought that my mother being his only sister, he would have checked to find out how she was coping. And on the occasions that he did call, he wasn’t interested in us. It was all about him and now he’s apparently full of this biography. It’s bloody ridiculous, quite unnecessary and I doubt that he wants to publicise his messy affairs with young men. But what’s this all about? Why are you interested in him?’

  ‘It’s strange that Ralph McGuire died under suspicious circumstances, enquiries are still being made, now that Isabel is now very ill.’


  ‘I agree and I’m very sorry about Mrs McGuire. However, as far as the meal I prepared and cooked is concerned, I can’t think of any reason why this happened.’ Kieran now looked and sounded worried. ‘I’m always very careful when shopping, make sure that no ingredients are past their sell-by date. Everything I bought was fresh. It might have been something she ate for breakfast or lunch. She was fine when she left…’

  Kieran broke off as Tom reappeared and then Kershaw said quickly, ‘Thank you, Mr O’Brien. If you’re leaving Bristol for any reason, please advise me of your destination.’

  The Baumgartens had not been mentioned, and in the short time it took Tom to drive round to their house, Kershaw learnt that the search, although thorough, had been futile. ‘There was sufficient time for any traces, or any remaining substances, to be removed,’ commented Kershaw.

  Belinda Baumgarten’s squeal brought Stefan hurrying to the front door where he gazed at Kershaw with curiosity. ‘How can we help you, Inspector?’

  ‘By answering a few questions about the dinner party that you attended on Monday.’

  ‘Of course. Come in, please.’ Stefan glanced at Belinda then, standing aside, ushered the two detectives into a lounge the same size as Kieran’s but more expensively decorated and furnished. Declining the offer of tea, coffee or anything stronger, Kershaw did not waste any time, noting the Baumgartens’ genuine concern that Isabel had been so ill.

  ‘It’s strange that she was the only person who was ill; we all ate the same thing. We enjoyed our meal and didn’t suffer any side effects,’ volunteered Stefan.

  ‘Perhaps she was allergic to something?’ hazarded Belinda and gazed at Kershaw open-mouthed when she learnt that a toxic substance had been added to Isabel’s main course.

  ‘I don’t believe it! Marina and Kieran seem a nice couple, why should either of them do such a terrible thing?’ Stefan removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. ‘Wait a minute. I’ve just remembered there was someone in the kitchen with Kieran when we arrived. We were standing just inside the lounge with our drinks when I saw this young man walk through the hall and let himself out.’

  Kershaw knew that Stefan Baumgarten was general manager of a large hotel near the centre and that Kieran also worked there, and now asked, ‘Have you seen this young man before?’

  ‘No, but I would certainly know him again. He’s tall with spiky, jet black hair. There seemed to be something familiar about him. I’m certain I’ve seen him before but I can’t think where.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Baumgarten. That’s very helpful.’

  Kershaw had noticed that the prints on the walls were of an Austrian village and now asked, ‘Do you return to Austria very often?’

  ‘Yes,’ and following Kershaw’s gaze, Stefan told him, ‘that’s the village where my grandfather lived. My parents lived in Vienna until we came to England in 1959, but I still have some relatives living in that village. We usually spend some time with them, also in Salzburg and Vienna. Belinda likes the shops.’

  ‘So you buy Austrian clothes when you’re there?’

  ‘Sometimes. Although the Loden coats and suits are expensive, they last for years.’

  Tom had listened to this brief exchange with interest and, as soon as they were outside, he asked, ‘Surely you don’t think Stefan…’

  ‘It’s early days. Let’s go back and see O’Brien. It’s interesting that they both work at the same hotel, Baumgarten having been there for years and he is now the general manager while O’Brien is the restaurant manager. However, I want to know more about this young man who was in the kitchen when dinner was being prepared.’

  Ten minutes later, after a brief but unsatisfactory conversation, Tom was driving back to the station while Kershaw thought about what was said. They had learnt that the caller, Zak Amory, had been Leo Adare’s previous lover but was now living in Bristol and currently appearing at the Old Vic. ‘So that’s why I know his name,’ muttered Kershaw.

  At first, Kieran had protested. It was none of their business, then he grudgingly imparted this information, stating that he had first met Zak when he dined at the hotel. ‘Zak had been offered his first role at the Old Vic that morning and, although it meant dining alone, had decided to celebrate. We had a few drinks in a nearby pub after I’d finished, and have been friends ever since,’ said Kieran. He added that they enjoyed each other’s company and, because they both worked in the evenings, they sometimes met for a game of squash in the afternoon, and reluctantly gave the inspector Zak’s address.

  ‘It’s possible Ralph’s death and Isabel’s poisoning are connected with Adare’s biography,’ mused Kershaw.

  ‘Kieran certainly has no time for his uncle, doesn’t approve of the biography, resents the publicity it will create and it’s quite likely that Zak feels the same. Obviously, we can’t see him now, but we’ll call on him in the morning.’

  Later that evening, when Belinda was engrossed in a library book, Stefan considered it was strange that Isabel McGuire had been invited to Kieran’s dinner party. He knew that she and Duncan Sinclair were now working on the biography of Leo Adare and was glad that this, and Ralph’s death, had not been discussed.

  Stefan’s dislike of Leo began a long time ago and his thoughts now turned to his cousin, Manfred. With only six months difference in age, they had spent a lot of time together, become very close and were both upset when, in 1959, Stefan’s parents moved to England. They had kept in touch. Stefan had visited Vienna every year while Manfred came to England. Later, when Manfred was almost twenty-two, Stefan had noticed a change in his cousin and had been distressed to learn that Manfred was suffering from a debilitating illness. He had been seen by physicians, diagnostics and specialists, but the outlook was grim. There was no known cure and Manfred’s life expectancy was three years. However, Helmut and Olga had been advised that there was a clinic in Switzerland where Manfred could receive treatment which might relieve his pain and discomfort.

  Stefan recalled his amazement that his Uncle Helmut did not want Manfred’s illness to be known by friends or business associates and had expressed his disapproval of the suggestion that Leo Adare (who had already been mistaken for Manfred) should stand in while Manfred received this treatment. On his annual visit, he learnt from his uncle that Leo was doing well, but his Aunt Olga confided that Leo’s manner towards her was too familiar and had been grateful for Stefan’s support when Manfred died. Leo had left the country immediately, without a word of sympathy or compassion, when Stefan’s uncle and aunt had been disgusted by Leo’s callousness.

  Stefan smiled as he remembered the first time he had met Belinda. He had been working in reception in a London hotel while she worked in one of the large departmental stores, and they had married eighteen months later.

  Securing the position of head receptionist at the hotel of which he was now general manager had been the beginning of an interesting and successful career. Over the years he had been in charge of various departments, and his enthusiasm and foresight had been recognised when the property adjacent to the hotel was purchased and converted to conference rooms and luxury suites. The general manager at that time had noted his ideas for the conversion and sent him to Europe to ascertain what was being offered to affluent businessmen and tourists. He had returned with his head and notebook full of what he had seen and learnt and was thrilled to be included in the meetings with the architects and interior designers. That was some time ago, and the whole hotel had been redecorated and refurbished many times and, no matter which department he had been working in, or in charge of, he was always included in the discussions regarding this. He had found his time as personnel manager somewhat arduous but gradually adjusted to this, getting to know the different members of staff, enjoying dealing with all the events that the hotel was now able to cater for – banquets, small or large dinner parties, conferences, and weddings. He had also been interested to see the ho
tel grow. Another building had been acquired and converted, bedrooms had been enlarged to become spacious suites that were in constant demand. A brasserie, leisure centre and beauty salon had been added, while the kitchen was completely reorganised and re-equipped.

  As the years passed he had noted that Leo had become more successful but was still trailing those with household names. Stefan recalled the afternoon Kieran told him that Leo Adare was his uncle. Kieran and his partner Marina had moved into the house whose garden backed on to theirs, five years ago. They had been working in their respective gardens, pausing to comment that it was too hot to do much, when he said that he and Belinda were going to the theatre that night. Kieran had spoken about his mother and Leo’s heartless attitude when his father had walked out. Leo could have helped out financially, even on a temporary basis, but he didn’t, hence Kieran’s intense dislike of his uncle.

  10

  ‘Good morning, Inspector, Sergeant. Please come in.’ Zak Amory stood in the narrow hallway and indicated an open door. ‘I hope you’ll excuse the untidiness. I usually rush off to the theatre and certainly don’t feel like clearing up when I come home.’ Zak picked up papers and magazines from two easy chairs, still talking. ‘Kieran left a message that you would be calling on me.’

  Kershaw suppressed a smile at Zak’s exuberance, Tom’s bewildered expression and the small but colourful room. Full-length midnight blue curtains fell on either side of a long, narrow window, contrasting against the pale turquoise wall, but matching the opposite wall. A worn two-seater settee was pushed against this, and a table, littered with pages of a manuscript, stood in front of the window. Pushing these aside, Zak added his pile of papers and said, ‘I’m sorry that the settee and the chairs aren’t very comfortable, but please sit down and tell me how I can help you.’