Mercy or Mercenary?

by Sheila Parker

  At this, Kershaw turned to Isabel, but before he could speak the phone rang when, with an effort to remain composed, Isabel said, ‘Good morning, Mr Adare,’ then, in reply to his query, told him that with Duncan’s help she hoped they would be able to meet Hugo’s deadline. ‘However, we do have a problem, there’s a period of approximately three…’

  Isabel rubbed her ear as Leo rang off abruptly and looked at Kershaw. ‘There was no need for him to do that. It’s not as though I asked him anything irrelevant.’

  ‘But you were going to ask him about that gap?’ hazarded Elspeth, aware that the inspector was watching her closely and when Isabel nodded, ‘Perhaps Hugo would ask him?’

  Kershaw indicated that he would wait, listened to the one-sided conversation and then Isabel told them, ‘Hugo is as curious as we are. They’re meeting for lunch next week when Leo returns from Venice. Apparently, when the biography was first discussed, Hugo asked if there was anything controversial which could come to light when Leo merely shrugged and said there was nothing untoward in his life.’

  ‘You might have stirred up a hornets’ nest,’ commented Duncan while Elspeth volunteered, ‘It might be something really interesting that would help sell the book.’

  Kershaw had followed the conversation with interest and now said, ‘Will you let me know if Mr Forrester does learn anything of importance or relevance and, although I can’t see that the discovery of these cuttings can have anything to do with your husband’s death, can I borrow them?’

  ‘We’d prefer not to part with the originals,’ and picking up a bulky foolscap envelope, Isabel handed this to Kershaw. ‘However, in spite of them being rather faded, Duncan has photocopied them.’

  It was soon after he had spoken to Isabel that Leo realised he had ended the conversation rather abruptly and, by doing so, he might have made her even more suspicious. He then told himself that it had all happened a long time ago and, without going into great detail, he might be able to explain this period by saying that he had spent that period in Europe. He knew that Smithers and Price had retired, but it was possible that Mervyn might be able to advise him.

  Ten minutes later, Leo replaced the receiver, reflecting that Mervyn was a feeble and ineffective individual. He had muttered pleasantries but, in reply to Leo’s request, had blustered and said he would have to refer to someone in a more senior position.

  While Leo was criticising Mervyn’s ineptitude, Mervyn was considering Leo’s request. Although he was not a theatre-goer, he had followed Leo’s career, noting that in spite of the favourable reviews Leo was not a household name, and had heard about the biography. He knew, having met him soon after his return, that Leo had slipped back into England very quietly, unperturbed that Manfred had died and that his parents were very distressed. Within a week, Leo had auditioned for a role in a drama soon to be produced in Chichester and from then on he had acted in different parts of the country and eventually, London. Little mention had been made in any of the reviews of his earlier years, his time at RADA and touring with repertory companies, and Mervyn doubted that anyone would really notice the three-year gap in the biography.

  ‘What do you think about those?’ Kershaw indicated the cuttings, ‘and what about Isabel’s ideas?’

  ‘It must have been a terrible time for Manfred’s parents. They had everything – position and wealth but their only son was very ill. I suppose you can understand them not wanting everyone to know about this, but someone must have seen Leo to know about the incredible likeness.’ Tom paused. ‘If Leo did stand in while Manfred was receiving treatment, which his parents no doubt hoped might cure him, he wasn’t doing anything illegal. On the other hand, he didn’t want those three years included in his biography; it might look as though he was bribed to play that role.’

  ‘Which he was, really, and when he came back he fell on his feet, theatrically. Whoever arranged his stay in Vienna had connections with people in the theatre and it all worked out very satisfactorily. He’s not another Richard Briers or Kenneth Brannagh but he’s certainly done well financially: a flat in London, cottage in the Mendips, trips to the Far East or Caribbean, not to mention weekends in Venice, Rome or Monte Carlo.’

  ‘He wasn’t so generous when Zak Amory was living with him,’ ventured Tom.

  ‘That young man doesn’t hide his dislike for Leo, but I can’t see that he’d gain anything if the biography wasn’t completed. And he wouldn’t know about Vienna. The only person who might know, even though he was living in England, is…’ Kershaw hesitated and then grinned as he and Tom exclaimed together, ‘Baumgarten!’

  And it was the latter who said, ‘He didn’t tell us about his life before coming to England.’

  ‘There wouldn’t have been anything untoward; he was only eleven years old at the time,’ said Kershaw but nodded when Tom reminded him that Stefan still had elderly relatives living in Austria. ‘But we don’t know their name.’

  ‘You’re not going to suggest he could be related to the Waldner family?’

  ‘Coincidences are happening all the time.’ Tom glanced at his watch. ‘Would Stefan have returned to the hotel yet?’

  ‘Try his home number but I’ll speak to him.’

  Tom watched as Kershaw’s expression changed to one of surprise. The conversation was brief and, as usual, Tom was curious; but this changed to astonishment when Kershaw said, ‘Not only did he know the family, he was related. However, there’s more to it than that. We’re seeing him tomorrow morning when he’ll tell us the whole story.’

  13

  ‘So you can understand, Inspector, why I was so upset.’ Stefan Baumgarten had just recounted his relationship and friendship with Manfred, and their early years together in Vienna. This had been brief, but as he described his cousin’s illness, his uncle’s instructions that no one should know of this, and his suggestion that Leo Adare should stand in while Manfred received prolonged treatment, Stefan’s voice was subdued.

  ‘I know it was thirty years ago, but the thought of it still upsets me. I told Uncle Helmut that I didn’t agree with his idea of withholding the news of Manfred’s illness and, although I only met him on each holiday, I didn’t like Adare.’ Absorbed in his sad memories, Stefan did not notice Kershaw and Tom exchange glances. ‘It made me sick to see him acting the affectionate son when in company – he looked and even sounded like Manfred. Leo certainly landed a plum role there.’

  ‘How did your uncle hear about him?’

  ‘A business associate saw Leo in London, thought he was Manfred and spoke to him in German.’ Stefan’s voice was bitter. ‘If his impersonation of Manfred became known, a publisher would probably want a detailed account of how those three years were spent which, although Aunt Olga and Uncle Helmut are dead, would still upset other distant relatives. Leo was out of the country as soon as Manfred died and his parting words to my aunt were heartless. Then, as you probably know, he landed on his feet, another plum role, and his future was assured.’

  Stefan’s gaze travelled from Kershaw to Tom and back again. ‘I’m not happy about the biography, as you know, but if Ralph and Isabel hadn’t agreed to do it, Leo would have found someone else.’ Stefan paused. ‘There’s something else that surprised me, but it’s nothing to do with Adare. As you know, Joanna is our head receptionist, and although it was only to be expected that she was upset about the circumstances surrounding her uncle’s death, I was very surprised that she was so distressed about Isabel being so ill.’

  ‘Interesting, but as I’m sure you’re aware, we’re still making enquiries as to how this happened,’ said Kershaw and, standing up, thanked Stefan for his time and assistance.

  ‘Well, what are you bursting to say?’ asked Kershaw as they reached the car.

  ‘Did you notice those white and yellow flowers?’ and when there was no immediate reply, ‘On that tree at the bottom of the garden, in the right hand corner?
’

  Kershaw nodded. ‘Pretty, but why are you so excited?’

  ‘That’s a laburnum tree and, as you know…’

  ‘The berries are poisonous and although we haven’t heard from the toxicologist, could have been used to poison Isabel.’ Then, with an expression of horror spreading over his face, Kershaw exclaimed, ‘My God! That means one of the Baumgartens…’ and stopping abruptly, ‘no, it couldn’t have been either of them. They had no occasion to go into the kitchen and wouldn’t have known which plate was Isabel’s.’

  ‘The hedge between the gardens isn’t very high, so the tree was within easy reach from Kieran’s garden, and still on the subject of gardens…’ Tom paused for breath while Kershaw silently admired and approved his young sergeant’s enthusiasm, ‘Did you notice how easy it would be to get into the Baumgartens’ garden?’

  As they fastened their seat belts, Tom continued, ‘The hedge at the bottom of the garden was quite thin; anyone could get through quite easily. Suppose someone did that, got into their kitchen or through the French window in the lounge, and borrowed Stefan’s hat and coat?’

  ‘It couldn’t have been Kieran; he was working,’ Two waiters had confirmed that, as restaurant manager, Kieran had been on duty during the whole of the wedding reception. Kershaw resumed, ‘It had to be someone who knew the Baumgartens were out for the day and also knew the couples who lived on either side were also out.’

  ‘Marina knew and she was home on her own. She’s tall, well built; the hat and scarf would cover her hair.’

  ‘But why?’ Then, aware of a sudden change of subject, Kershaw asked, ‘Are you sure that was a laburnum tree?’

  ‘Yes,’ and when Tom told him that his grandmother had one in her garden Kershaw explained that, although he may have seen one on a previous occasion, he hadn’t known what it was.

  ‘This means that either Kieran or Marina, maybe both of them, realised there was a dangerous, could be lethal, poison at hand.’ Kershaw had been amazed that, in spite of his excitement, Tom had driven across the Downs at a sedate speed and remained calm in spite of the flow of traffic and irate drivers at the top of Blackboy Hill. Kershaw reflected that there had been no point in turning back to call on Kieran as both he and Marina would be at work and now asked, ‘Can you remember what Kieran said about dishing up and serving the food?’

  Tom looked thoughtful. ‘Kieran told us that as he dished up the boeuf bourgignon, he asked Marina to take the first two in for Belinda and Isa—’

  ‘So, in a matter of seconds, Marina somehow sprinkled or mixed the berries in Isabel’s food,’ interrupted Kershaw.

  ‘Which means she had it ready – it was premeditated. But why would Marina disguise herself to see Ralph McGuire, or want to poison Isabel?’ Tom then answered his own question with, ‘She knew Kieran didn’t like his uncle or approve of the biography,’ then seeing Kershaw’s sceptical expression, Tom conceded that was hardly a motive. But after a momentary pause, ‘She may have another reason; we don’t really know a lot about her.’

  ‘That’s true,’ agreed Kershaw, thinking they knew that Marina was a travel writer, still worked as a stand-by air courier and also for a travel company who provided escorts for visiting businessmen who wished to see some of the historical places in Bristol and the surrounding countryside. Marina and Kieran had been together for six years, but they had no knowledge of her background.

  ‘What would she gain by Ralph’s death and the attempt on Isabel?’ Tom glanced sideways as he spoke, then his gaze was back on the road ahead. ‘I suppose if Isabel had died, Elspeth would have inherited everything, which is quite considerable.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that Ralph’s death and the attempt on Isabel were for monetary gain?’ And when Tom nodded, ‘Apart from Joanna, there isn’t anyone else who has a claim against Ralph’s estate.’

  ‘Not according to our knowledge.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We don’t really know much about Ralph’s private life before Isabel, and he wasn’t young when he married her. You must agree that neither Isabel nor Elspeth were very forthcoming when we asked if they knew of anyone with a motive, or who would benefit from Ralph’s death. It’s still possible that, with prompting, Elspeth might be able to tell us something.’

  ‘Isn’t your…?’ Kershaw stopped abruptly; he didn’t want to dishearten his young sergeant who was so keen and instead he asked, ‘Apart from questioning Elspeth again, how would you suggest we go about this?’

  ‘There would be a record, either locally or at St Catherine’s, if Ralph was married before and there were any children.’

  ‘What are you implying, Sergeant’

  On their return to the station, a phone call to Elspeth had resulted in an immediate visit to the McGuire household in Clifton; she now regarded the two detectives with annoyance and consternation. ‘I can’t imagine Ralph being interested in a young student, however attractive she was. He told me, in confidence, that he married Isabel because she was very intelligent and hard-working. He never said that he regarded her as attractive, which she was at the time, and I’m really pleased that she’s taking more interest in her appearance.’

  ‘There might have been occasions when, after a few drinks, your brother…’

  Kershaw paused and Elspeth admitted, ‘I suppose anything is possible. But why all these questions?’

  Kershaw had delegated a DC to visit the local registry office but realised a trip to London might be necessary, and now said, ‘We’ve spent too long making enquiries about Adare’s biography and are now exploring other avenues. However, should you think of anything that happened when your brother was a young man, please let me know.’

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you again, Mr O’Brien, but I’d be glad if you could spare us a few minutes. Is Miss Bushell in?’ Inspector Kershaw had waited until half past five when he knew Marina was usually home.

  ‘Please come in, Inspector and yes, Marina came in about two minutes ago.’

  Kershaw immediately noted that Kieran was genuinely shocked on learning about the laburnum tree. ‘I’ve noticed the flowers but I don’t know anything about trees of any kind.’ Kieran turned as Marina entered the room. ‘Did you know that the tree in the corner of the Baumgartens’ garden was a laburnum and that its berries are poisonous?’

  ‘What berries?’ Marina sounded vague, but Kershaw was not taken in by the indifference in her voice. However, it was Tom who volunteered, ‘They’re in the pods, which are about one and a half inches long; therefore, you wouldn’t have seen them.’

  ‘So what’s all the fuss about?’

  ‘The berries were the cause of Mrs McGuire being so ill.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ retorted Marina.

  ‘I beg to differ.’ For the last few days, Kershaw had been frustrated that he had not received any results from the toxicologist but, after Tom’s discovery and on his return to the station that morning, he had taken immediate action.

  The toxicologist had immediately apologised and interrupted Kershaw’s explanation with, ‘That’s it. Laburnum! My assistant and I both came to the same conclusion earlier this morning. I was going to email you my report this afternoon.’

  Bearing this in mind, Kershaw now said, ‘I’m sure you must have seen the flowers and possibly the pods on the tree.’ Marina shrugged but Kershaw persisted, ‘The tree is easily accessible from your garden.’

  ‘If you’re suggesting that one of us reached across and took some of these pods I think you’re forgetting something,’ said Kieran. ‘I’ve already told you I can’t tell one tree from another.’

  Kershaw nodded. His gaze had been on Marina and he now asked, ‘Did you know that tree was a laburnum, that its berries were poisonous, Miss Bushell?’

  ‘No. How would I know?’

  Aware that Kieran was looking at his watch and becoming
impatient, Kershaw told him, ‘It’s all right, Mr O’Brien, you can go. I appreciate that you’re due back at the hotel.’ Then turning to Marina, ‘You could have read about them.’

  ‘You can’t leave me here being questioned by the police,’ protested Marina as Kieran reached for his jacket.

  ‘I’m sorry, I must go but I’m sure you’ll be all right.’

  Although he had never seen one before, Kershaw persisted. ‘Are you sure you’ve never seen a laburnum tree before you came here, Miss Bushell?’

  ‘No. Why should I want to poison Isabel McGuire?’ Marina sounded belligerent as she continued, ‘I’d never met her before.’

  ‘She’s lying. It must have been her,’ said Kershaw five minutes later as Tom turned onto the main road.

  ‘What do you propose to do, question their neighbours?’ asked Tom and when Kershaw nodded, ‘Perhaps her grandparents had one in their garden in which case the Bushells’ neighbours would know and, although she denies it, Marina would recognise the flowers.’

  My God! He’s a clever young man, thought Kershaw and agreed that enquiries should be made.

  By now, Kieran had reached Whiteladies Road but the inspector’s questions were still uppermost in his mind. It was incomprehensible that Marina had poisoned Isabel, someone she didn’t know but, in spite of her adamant denial, who else could have done it, and how? It had only taken a moment or two for her to carry the main course for Belinda and Isabel from the kitchen to the dining area of the lounge; however, Isabel had been poisoned. Fortunately, she had recovered, and it was obvious Kershaw was determined to find the person responsible.

  Meanwhile, back at the hotel and knowing that the evening would be busy – a silver wedding anniversary in one private room and a retirement party in another – Kieran checked that everything was set out in readiness in the two function rooms to be used. As he drove to work, he had thought about the inspector’s inference that laburnum berries had been used to poison Isabel McGuire, but now, still checking that the table linen, glasses, and cutlery were immaculate, Kieran dismissed all thoughts of Marina and the poisonous berries.