Murder on the Lake (Detective Inspector Skelgill Investigates Book 4)

by Bruce Beckham

  Thirdly, DS Jones also bears important information. This is in response to Skelgill’s urgent telephone request. However, it is clear that events have overtaken this research and, for the time being, she holds her peace.

  It is not long before Skelgill has brewed up more tea, to his somewhat idiosyncratic recipe (tea bag, powdered milk, sugar and boiling water, all in together), and placed mugs carefully before each of those present. Carefully, because also aligned on the table before them are several items, which appear to have been emptied from a small streamlined black fabric backpack, of the sort more often used by city commuters than outdoor junkies. Of course, it belongs (or belonged) to Lucy Hecate.

  DS Leyton leans forward and squints at a two clear jars placed beside each other. One is a miniature breakfast portion, the other a more standard retail size, although unlabelled.

  ‘Honey, Guv? You’ve been having quite a picnic while you were waiting.’

  Skelgill, leaning back against the settee and looking relaxed with his tea, narrows his eyes.

  ‘It’d be no picnic if you ate that, Leyton.’

  DS Leyton’s eyes widen.

  ‘Poison?’

  Skelgill nods.

  ‘Atropine – it’s intensely bitter – like sloes but worse. That’s why poisonings from eating the berries of Deadly Nightshade are uncommon.’ (As their superior begins to pontificate along these lines, DS Leyton’s jaw begins to drop. But DS Jones’s reaction is more one of circumspect intrigue.) ‘In order to disguise it, you need something very, very sweet. Such as honey.’

  ‘Cor blimey.’ DS Leyton gulps – but then a thought strikes him. ‘But what about that bowel medicine, Guv – I thought that’s what killed Buckley?’

  Skelgill shrugs.

  ‘What better way to make it look like an accident – than to plant some pills that contain the same compound?’

  DS Jones sits forward, her brow now creased.

  ‘But, Guv – there were the same tablets in Rich Buckley’s office.’

  ‘Aye – and when we search Lucy Hecate’s flat I imagine we’ll find a spare set of keys for it.’

  ‘But, Guv–’ DS Jones begins again to raise a query – but then she sees it. She stares at Skelgill, enlightened. ‘She worked there, Guv.’

  ‘Aye, she did.’

  Now it is DS Leyton’s turn to appear confused. He looks from one to another of his colleagues.

  ‘I don’t get this bit – what do you mean – she worked there – what, at the publisher’s?’

  DS Jones glances to Skelgill, anticipating that he will answer – but he gestures that she should explain.

  ‘They employed students as interns – you know, unpaid work experience?’ DS Leyton nods and she continues. ‘So Lucy Hecate had a job there.’ But now she holds out her hands in appeal to her boss. ‘But, this is amazing, Guv – given what I found out this morning.’

  Skelgill nods slowly.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘She told you, Guv?’

  ‘What she wanted to – mainly about Buckley. And Myra. ’

  DS Jones shakes her head. DS Leyton is still looking bewildered. She turns to him.

  ‘The woman you interviewed – Rich Buckley’s widow – she’s Lucy Hecate’s mother. Lucy Hecate is the child that she had as a teenager and that was brought up by the father.’

  DS Leyton is now getting the idea.

  ‘But – wouldn’t Buckley have recognised her?’

  Skelgill is shaking his head. He takes over.

  ‘Aye – as an ex-employee, perhaps. But in the family context he never met her. Lucy and the mother are estranged. That’s part of the grand design.’

  ‘The grand design?’ This is DS Jones.

  ‘Lucy got a job at Buckley Publishing. She knew who Buckley was, but didn’t let on. The guy treated her like dirt – and worse – the extreme end of sexual harassment. While she was there she submitted a novel she’d written, under a false name. He ripped it to pieces. Meanwhile she found out what else he was up to – abusing her mother, women on the side – and she overheard his scheme to cut Myra out of his fortune. It was all too much for Lucy – and perhaps she saw it as a chance for reconciliation.’

  ‘With her mother?’

  ‘With her mother.’ Skelgill brushes the fingers of one hand through his hair. ‘With Buckley dead prior to the divorce, Myra would inherit everything. I don’t know how Lucy planned to approach her – maybe as a fellow victim of Buckley – but she had some idea that she could pick up the reins of the publishing business.’

  They are all three silent for a minute or so. Then DS Leyton pipes up.

  ‘So this retreats company – that we can’t find – it was Lucy Hecate?’

  Skelgill is nodding.

  ‘She set up a false email account – probably did it from an internet café to make it harder to trace – made all the offers of extravagant fees with no intention of paying.’

  DS Leyton slaps a hand on his substantial thigh.

  ‘And the stolen cheque, Guv.’

  Skelgill flashes him a confirmatory glance.

  ‘She’s been doing part-time jobs in retail – one of them being a pharmacy.’ He gestures towards DS Jones. ‘As our colleague’s research will confirm, Lucy Hecate’s degree is in biochemistry.’ (DS Jones nods as Skelgill continues.) ‘So that’s how she got hold of the chequebook – not to mention the various drugs.’ He inhales suddenly, and then lets out the breath more slowly. ‘One of which, I have yet to tell you about.’

  DS Jones is eager to interject. She seems to miss the sense of gravity in Skelgill’s final statement. Instead, she raises her hands with fingers spread, as though she holds an open book with the story now revealed.

  ‘Suddenly everything falls into place, Guv. It’s been driving me crazy trying to work out the connection between everyone on the retreat – and now we know it’s Lucy Hecate.’

  But Skelgill shakes his head decisively.

  ‘Rich Buckley Publishing is the connection. Lucy Hecate joined up the dots – but the pieces were already in place. So she hatches a plot and collects all the contact details. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s still got access to their computer system. She strikes lucky with Sarah Redmond and bingo! – Buckley signs up to the retreat drooling like Pavlov’s dog. She hand picks a group of people that will give her the best possible cover if things go wrong – if Buckley’s death is considered suspicious. People who know him in the industry – who might have their axes to grind – maybe they’ll come clean, once they know they’re in the clear. And a bunch of unsuspecting novice writers – all of whom you can bet have had manuscripts rejected by Buckley. She might even have written the rejections herself – spiced them up, like the one sent to Bella Mandrake. And enlisting the doctor was a masterstroke – almost. She even casually pointed the finger at him when I spoke with her in London.’

  DS Jones has listened intently to Skelgill’s thesis. She reaches to pick up her tea – so far untouched – and regards the floating blobs of powdered milk with some suspicion.

  ‘Guv – what made you so sure it wasn’t the doctor – you told me that before you got your breakthrough this morning?’

  Skelgill gestures with one hand towards the entrance of the drawing room.

  ‘If I walked in here, where would you expect my mobile phone to be?’

  They each look puzzled, as though they believe it’s a trick question. DS Leyton offers a conveniently dumb answer.

  ‘In your pocket, Guv.’

  ‘Exactly, Leyton.’ Now Skelgill points towards the windows. ‘So you wouldn’t run off down to the jetty and shove my boat out into the lake, would you?’

  ‘I dunno, Guv?’ Skelgill frowns and DS Leyton corrects his answer. ‘No, Guv.’

  ‘But someone did, Leyton.’ He nods several times. ‘All along, I’ve been certain that someone untied my boat and let it drift away – knowing it had my phone aboard.’

  ‘So, how does that exempt Dr Bond?
’

  ‘Because, Leyton, when I announced that it was safe in a dry bag in the hold, he wasn’t in this room. Nor was Linda Gray, come to that.’ He raises his arms in a reference to their surroundings. ‘When I retraced my steps I realised that whoever wanted to keep me here, and make sure we stayed incommunicado – it wasn’t Bond, and it probably wasn’t Linda Gray. I reckon the boat was cast off when I went up with Bond and Dickie Lampray to look at Rich Buckley’s body. It had to be one of the others – and given what happened to Bella Mandrake, it probably wasn’t her either.’

  Now both sergeants are looking expectantly at Skelgill. It is DS Jones who tentatively breaks the silence.

  ‘Bella Mandrake, Guv – that was Lucy Hecate?’

  Skelgill looks at each of his colleagues, then he points to a small self-sealing plastic bag that lies on the table next to the honey jars.

  ‘I think we’ll find that contains good old-fashioned extra-strong sleeping tablets – from the same apothecary in Covent Garden.’

  DS Leyton is pursing his lips.

  ‘Why, Guv?’

  Skelgill shrugs.

  ‘Unfortunately, she saw something – or, at least, that’s what Lucy Hecate thought.’ He shakes his head regretfully. ‘Bella Mandrake made such a fuss – about evil forces – she might as well have signed her own death warrant.’

  DS Jones is nodding.

  ‘Was that why Lucy Hecate wanted to prevent you from calling for help, Guv – to kill Bella Mandrake before she named her?’

  Skelgill seems a little unsure.

  ‘Maybe.’ He casts about the room and then apparently decides to make an admission. ‘Look – I got some expert advice about poisons – an old chap I know from way back – he was a famous toxicologist.’ He pauses to check their reactions, but neither officer appears in the least bit surprised that Skelgill has been pursuing his own private inquiries whilst on fishing leave. ‘Apparently atropine disappears quickly from the human body. It leaves no inflamed organs and can be hard to detect. I suspect Lucy Hecate was hoping to put as much time as possible between Buckley’s death and any proper medical examination. Leaving the drugs containing atropine was just a fall-back – but doubly smart to think of planting some in his desk to make it seem certain they belonged to him. Failing that, suspicion would shift to one of the others – with Gerald Bond first in the queue.’

  Now DS Jones seems perplexed.

  ‘But, Guv – it was Lucy Hecate who went out in the storm looking for assistance. That doesn’t fit with the idea of creating a delay.’

  Skelgill grins in a rather superior fashion.

  ‘I doubt she was looking for help, Jones.’

  ‘No, Guv?’

  ‘No. I reckon she was intending to dispose of this stuff. The contaminated honey at least. It served its purpose – so chuck it in the lake. She had on a big long coat, and I believe this was hidden underneath it. Then she bumped into me and decided not to take the risk.’

  ‘But why call out to you at all, Guv?’

  ‘Because I spotted her first. She must have realised that if there had been an investigation, and some random fisherman later reported seeing her – and she hadn’t cried for help – it wouldn’t look too clever.

  DS Leyton shakes his head.

  ‘Must have been the last thing she’d have expected – running into a copper, Guv.’

  Skelgill shrugs.

  ‘She was cool as a cucumber. She sussed that all my gear was on the boat – and nipped back out and made it look like the storm had washed it away. It certainly bought her more time.’

  ‘So what about Bella Mandrake, Guv.’

  ‘I don’t know, Leyton – I’m not sure if that was in Lucy Hecate’s plan at that point. I reckon Bella Mandrake only started really playing up when I arrived – looking for attention.’

  DS Jones raises a hand.

  ‘Guv – why did you ask me to investigate Linda Gray’s marital history – you said you’d eliminated her?’

  ‘On the basis of the phone and the boat, I had.’ Skelgill points to the smaller of the two jars. ‘But Buckley was poisoned by the honey being switched on his breakfast tray. Linda Gray left that tray outside his door.’

  DS Jones is nodding, though she is not yet completely satisfied with the explanation.

  ‘But how does that relate to her previous marriage?’

  Skelgill now looks at DS Leyton.

  ‘Remember – Leyton found out that Buckley had been married twice before.’ (DS Leyton nods to confirm.) ‘I had to consider that she might have been one of those ex-wives – she was about the right age – if not the right type.’

  DS Jones shakes her head.

  ‘She was married to a farmer from Cleator Moor, Guv – for nearly twenty years.’

  Skelgill grins.

  ‘Give her a medal.’

  His colleagues raise their eyebrows – but DS Jones is still eager to understand exactly what took place. She indicates with a hand the honey jars on the table before them.

  ‘The breakfast tray, Guv – that could be what made Bella Mandrake suspicious? If she’d been in Rich Buckley’s room when it was delivered – say she heard something – or even disturbed Lucy Hecate tampering with it?’

  Skelgill nods.

  ‘And if she did have a little liaison with Buckley – that might have kept her from saying too much about it.’ Looking pensive, he drums the nails of one hand against his tin mug. ‘Mind you – Lucy must have switched the poisoned jar back for the original – got it out of Buckley’s room – that would be a second occasion when she might have been noticed.’

  DS Leyton finishes his tea and grunts as he reaches forward with some difficulty to place it on the edge of the low table.

  ‘But Lucy Hecate poisoned Bella Mandrake with these, Guv?’ He gestures to the self-sealing bag.

  ‘Aye – after putting me out of action.’

  Both sergeants glance sharply at Skelgill. DS Leyton is first to speak.

  ‘What do you mean, Guv – I thought you’d been on the old River Ouse?’

  ‘Well, thanks for your vote of confidence, Leyton.’ Skelgill’s scowls severely at his subordinate, though his tone is forgiving. ‘Since when has half a bottle of red had me keeling over?’

  DS Leyton nods in a conciliatory manner.

  ‘Good point, Guv – so what happened?’

  Skelgill shifts in his seat and glances at DS Jones, and then about the room, as if he is composing a version of events that will suit his purposes. He folds his arms before he begins to speak.

  ‘I think she slipped a sleeping tablet into my meal – although Linda Gray cooked it, Lucy served me with a second helping. We had this game of Scrabble after dinner – did I tell you I blew them all away?’ (His sergeants nod enthusiastically, eager that he should press on.) ‘Aye, well – and halfway through the game I started feeling like if I didn’t lie down I’d fall asleep on the spot. I was first up to bed. Then that’s what helped me narrow it down to Lucy.’

  Clearly, this final sentence does not make sense, and both officers look like they want to ask Skelgill by what criteria he managed this elimination, but are afraid to ask. It appears he is not going to volunteer the answer, although his thumb drifts subconsciously to his mouth and he gently brushes his lips. That the truth concerns kissing, almost certainly means this aspect of his deductions will forever remain an official mystery. And just at this moment there is a sharp knocking, and a forensic officer sticks his head between the double doors of the drawing room. Exultantly, he brandishes a clear polythene bag that contains a white stick-like object.

  ‘Found it, sir – almost exactly where you thought.’

  Skelgill gives the thumbs-up sign, and the man disappears.

  DS Leyton looks baffled.

  ‘What was that, Guv?’

  ‘A candle.’

  ‘Come again?’

  ‘The candle from my bedroom. My guess is it’s got Lucy Hecate’s DNA on the wick – fr
om when she snuffed it out. Another little piece in the jigsaw if she decides to plead not guilty. I caught her looking for it today – she’d thought of everything.’ He shrugs casually, perhaps aware of DS Jones’s interrogative gaze. ‘When I interviewed her – she even asked if we’d searched the island – she said she’d lost a scarf of sentimental value. What a nerve! All along she was planning to come back to get these things that she’d hidden in her room – plus the candle from the garden.’

  DS Leyton looks perplexed.

  ‘What was it doing there, Guv?’

  Skelgill shrugs.

  ‘That’s down to you pair. You turned up at the crack of dawn on Monday – she probably wasn’t expecting that we’d get help before noon. I reckon she realised the risk – tiny though it was – and nipped in here and lobbed it out of the window. I would never have thought of it in a million years – it was only because I noticed the candlestick was empty that my mind got working.’

  DS Jones is watching Skelgill through narrowed eyes.

  ‘Guv, why was Lucy Hecate snuffing out your candle?’

  Skelgill looks momentarily cornered, but he has an ace up his sleeve.

  ‘She chloroformed me.’

  ‘What?’ Both sergeants in unison utter this exclamation.

  ‘Aye – belt and braces.’ Skelgill now points to the last of the items on the table, a small brown bottle with a pipette cap. ‘In case the drug wasn’t working – I’d told them all I was a light sleeper – and I assume she didn’t want to risk one of the strong ones on me. So she crept in and made sure I was out for the count. Remember my headache? Dizziness, confusion, fatigue – all the classic symptoms. I have it on the best authority.’

  DS Jones seems willing to be convinced.