Deadly Stuff

by Joyce Cato

  ‘No. But she might have come down to Oxford before the conference began and pretended to be a tourist or something, and checked out the lay of the land then,’ Trevor said stubbornly. ‘Peter, find out if Mrs Raines, the victim’s mother, that is, was on this digi-whatsit, and if she is, get a current photograph of Mrs Raines, the wife, and start showing it around college, and see if any of the scouts or anyone else for that matter, recognizes her.’

  ‘Right, guv,’ the sergeant said, and was about to leave when the constable came back again. ‘Sir, line four. The PM report is in.’

  Trevor nodded and reached for the telephone. He listened to the steady voice on the other end, and unhurriedly made notes, ignoring Trent and Jenny, who watched him and tried to guess clues from his reaction. It was a pointless exercise however, and Jenny, with an inner smile, suspected that the inspector would make a demon poker player. His face was, in fact, still expressionless when he finally hung up and turned back to them.

  ‘Well, no big surprises really. Death was due to the knife in his neck, and the pathologist says the shock probably brought on a heart attack, although he would have died anyway from the loss of blood. He had a fairly healthy liver and heart, for his age, and would have gone on to live for another good few years yet, apparently.’

  Peter grinned at his boss. ‘Come on, guv. We’re dying to know, was he poisoned as well?’

  ‘Of course he wasn’t,’ Jenny murmured automatically, her thoughts already wandering. She was simply going to have to do something about that mobile phone. She had half a mind to ask the inspector to see to it, but he was obviously busy right now. Perhaps, with the bursar’s endorsement of her still ringing in their ears, the scouts would search for it if she asked them.

  She nodded, making a mental note to ask Debbie Dawkins’s mother to head the search. She could only hope that the contents of the waste bins were all stashed in the bigger refuse bins which hadn’t been emptied yet.

  Unless, of course, he’d gone to more pains to get rid of the phone than by simply binning it, Jenny mused. In which case…. Jenny’s thoughts came to a sudden halt when she realized that both of the policemen were positively glowering at her.

  ‘What?’ she asked defensively.

  Trevor Golder sighed at her obviously genuine confusion and ran a hand over his eyes. Well, all of his predecessors who’d worked with her before had, in their own various ways, tried to warn him to get used to this feeling that the blasted woman would always be one step ahead. Now he was beginning to appreciate for himself just how aggravating that could be.

  ‘How did you know that the victim didn’t have the drugs in his system, Miss Starling?’ he asked flatly.

  Jenny opened her mouth, then shut it again. No, she simply wasn’t ready yet to come out with the way her thoughts were heading. These seasoned policemen would only laugh at her and, more than likely, accuse her of letting her imagination run wild. And who could blame them? Seeing that they were still patiently waiting for an answer, she thought about it for a second, and came up with the obvious solution.

  ‘Well, the coffee cup was still full, wasn’t it?’ she said sweetly. ‘So obviously, he hadn’t drunk any of it.’

  ‘It could have been his second cup,’ Trevor pointed out icily.

  ‘Oh,’ Jenny said. Then looked at him thoughtfully. Perhaps giving him a gentle hint about how the land lay, and then letting him figure it out for himself was the way to go? ‘You know, now that I think about it, I remember Maurice saying to some woman at the conference that he was strictly a tea drinker. He liked a special blend, I think he said, and always bought his own supply,’ she relayed with clear emphasis, willing him to pick up on it and run with it.

  ‘That’s right, I’ve got a note of that too,’ Peter Trent said at once. ‘Several people, in the initial interviews mentioned Maurice asking for it to be made especially for him after dinner their first night. You know, when everyone else was having the coffee the scouts served afterwards.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Trevor said, not willing to let the cook off the hook yet. ‘But you were about to say something about the coffee cups before the constable interrupted us. Just what were you about to say?’ the inspector challenged. Because he was beginning to get the alarming feeling that the Junoesque cook had already realized that the coffee cup had been poisoned.

  Which meant, damn it, that she really was way ahead of them.

  ‘Was I?’ Jenny said innocently. ‘I don’t—’

  ‘Oh there you are, inspector,’ a somewhat imperious female voice interrupted Jenny’s need to start telling wholesale fibs, and the cook looked up at the fast approaching Vicki Voight with a smile of sheer gratitude.

  But if the treasurer of the Great Jessies noticed it, or even her presence, she gave no sign. ‘I wondered if it was possible to have a word. Only, I’ve been thinking you see, and I’m not sure if anybody else would have thought to tell you. Not that I like to come bearing tales myself, and it almost certainly isn’t important, but I thought you’d better know.’

  Trevor, dragging his fulminating thoughts away from the aggravating cook, turned to Vicki Voight thoughtfully. Her mass of carefully coloured honey-gold hair had that tint of red in it that he liked, and her figure, although rather fuller than the lady herself would probably have wanted, was the kind that appealed to him. If he hadn’t been content in his marriage, she was the sort of woman a man might find tempting.

  Which led to the question: Had Maurice been tempted? Perhaps the affair he was having was closer to home than they realized. But there hadn’t been even a whisper of it from the rest of the conference goers, and surely it would have been hard for them to keep it a secret under so many knowing and prying eyes? Besides, when he’d interviewed the lady about Maurice Raines he simply hadn’t got that vibe. In fact, he thought he’d detected a certain hint of coolness there.

  ‘Perhaps you could be a little more, well, coherent, Mrs Voight,’ Trevor said. ‘What is it, exactly, that you think we should know?’

  ‘Well, it’s nothing much really. It’s about Pippa Foxton actually. You do know she’s not one of us, right?’

  Trevor blinked. Not one of us? What the hell was that supposed to mean?. Not straight, not a white, Anglo-Saxon protestant; not of the middle classes? What?

  Seeing his confusion, Jenny stepped in smoothly. ‘You mean, she’s not a paid-up member of your taxidermy society, Mrs Voight?’ she asked smoothly.

  Vicki glanced at her briefly, then fixed her eyes on the inspector once more. Jenny wasn’t insulted. She’d already long since realized that Vicki Voight was a man’s woman, so to speak.

  ‘Yes. She’s here with Ian as a bit of a lark, obviously. Not that that’s what I wanted to point out. So long as she – well, more likely Ian – has paid the fee, what the hell!’ Vicki smiled briefly. ‘We’re not such a stickler for the rules that we would make anything about that! No, it’s just about the way she was with Maurice.’

  Trevor Golder sat up straight. ‘And just how was she with Maurice?’ he asked quietly.

  Vicki, now that it had come to it, looked momentarily unsure. ‘Well, that’s just it,’ she said, somewhat helplessly. ‘She was really odd with him.’

  ‘Odd?’ Trevor savoured the word thoughtfully. ‘In what way, Mrs Voight?’

  Vicki sighed. ‘Well, it’s hard to put into words. You’ve all met Pippa, right?’

  They all nodded. ‘A good-looking girl, bit of a fashion aficionado, ambitious, and all the rest, yes? The sort that likes to flirt a little, have some fun. And no harm in that, right? Especially with that boyfriend of hers, so smitten and jealous and possessive, it’s not surprising that she goes out of her way to wind him up sometimes.’

  ‘Ah,’ Trevor said, suddenly seeing the light. ‘You mean she was flirting with Maurice? Yes, we have had several reports of that in our interviews, Mrs Voight. One or two of the other members of your society mentioned that she liked wrapping the chairman around her little finger, as I t
hink one of them put it.’

  Vicki sighed in obvious impatience. ‘Yes, but that’s just it, Inspector, it wasn’t quite that innocent. I mean, that wasn’t all there was to it. I can’t explain it, exactly, but it wasn’t … normal.’

  Trevor shot a quick glance at Jenny to see if she had any clue where this was going, and Jenny gave a quick shake of her head to show that she didn’t.

  ‘Not normal?’ When in doubt, the inspector had learned that it often paid to simply parrot a phrase and see what came back at you.

  Vicki gave another heavy sigh. ‘Oh, I knew this was going to be hard to explain. Look, it’s normal enough for a pretty girl with a jealous boyfriend to maybe play with fire a bit and flirt with a handsome enough, middle-aged man. I know I used to do it, back when I was Pippa’s age. Flirting is fun, and light-hearted, and everybody more or less knows the rules and nobody gets hurt. That’s all well and good.’

  ‘I’m with you so far. Are you saying that Pippa took it too far? Did her boyfriend….’ Trevor glanced at Trent, who quickly helped him out.

  ‘A Mr Ian Glendower, sir.’

  ‘Right. Did he not, perhaps, see things quite so light-heartedly?’

  ‘Well, no, he didn’t as a matter of fact,’ Vicki said, with the air of someone who’s been distracted. ‘He’s in that first flush of obsession whereby his sense of balance is all off kilter,’ she carried on. ‘I know for a fact that he’s warned her off Maurice a number of times.’

  ‘Did he make any threats towards Mr Raines himself?’ Trevor asked, trying not to sound too eager.

  ‘He might have done, but I never heard him do so personally,’ Vicki said vaguely. ‘But he’s a bit of a hothead, so I wouldn’t be surprised. But it’s not Ian that’s at issue here,’ she swept on impatiently. ‘His reactions are just what you’d expect from a young man in love: it’s Pippa that’s not quite right.’

  Vicki looked from one of the men to the other. ‘There was just something … off, about the way she flirted with Maurice. It wasn’t, quite … natural. The first time I saw them at it, I hardly paid any attention. I knew it didn’t mean anything on the girl’s part, and Maurice was too wily to make anything of it for himself, so I never gave it another thought. For all he liked the ladies, Maurice was savvy enough to know when he was being played. Besides, he is … sorry, was, always careful to keep his little adventures strictly from the wife. She’s the one with the money, you know,’ Vicki added, a shade spitefully. ‘No, Maurice could see that Pippa was too unpredictable and wild to play away with. So, like I said, I never gave it much thought. But then I began to notice the way she was with him just didn’t quite ring true. She was tense, and sometimes the things she said seemed to have some double meaning that she found grim or savagely funny. Once or twice, I could see even Maurice didn’t get it, whatever it was.’

  She was obviously and, to Jenny’s mind at least, genuinely struggling to convey the impression she’d received from watching them. The trouble was, she wasn’t really succeeding.

  ‘I’m still not sure I know what you mean,’ Trevor said cautiously. His copper’s instinct was definitely quivering now, but Jenny for one didn’t blame him for being uncertain.

  She leaned forward slightly, saw the inspector tip her the wink to go ahead and try and sort it out, and began cautiously, ‘Do you think Pippa Foxton was genuinely pursuing him?’

  ‘Oh no. That’s just it. Sometimes, even when she was flirting with him and at her most outrageous, I couldn’t help but feel as if there was some real antipathy there as well.’

  Jenny nodded. ‘Do you think she might be unbalanced shall we say?’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,’ Vicki said, sounding a shade alarmed now. ‘I’m not a shrink, and I’m not saying that she’s touched in the head or anything like that. But … there was just something about her when she was around Maurice that made me uneasy. I just sensed that something wasn’t quite right, there.’

  Vicki shook her head and held up her hands. ‘Look, I can see now that this was a mistake. After all, you’re not likely to be interested in my “feminine intuition”, are you?’ she said, using her fingers to make quote marks in the air. ‘It’s hardly evidence is it? Just forget I said anything, all right?’ she said and, giving them all a general all-purpose apologetic smile, she said goodbye and left.

  After she was gone they were all silent for a while. ‘And just what was that all about?’ Peter Trent finally broke the silence. ‘You think she’s jealous of this Foxton girl and just wanted to dob her in it?’ he asked, but without much conviction.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Trevor said.

  ‘I think she was genuinely trying to tell us what she knew,’ Jenny concurred. ‘And a woman like that usually has good instincts,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘If she thought something was amiss, it probably was. Of course, it might have nothing to do with the case,’ she pointed out. ‘Perhaps Miss Foxton just has father-figure issues or something. She does have an alibi, doesn’t she?’ she asked casually.

  ‘Oh yes. With her boyfriend’s class all morning,’ Peter Trent confirmed.

  ‘Hmm. But she was first on the scene after you’d discovered the body,’ Trevor said to Jenny. ‘We’d better have her back in and see what she has to say for herself, just in case there’s something in it. Peter, see if you can find her and send her down, will you? And get on with those other things too. Time’s a-wasting.’

  Trent nodded. ‘Yes, guv.’

  That morning, Pippa Foxton was wearing a long, lightweight turquoise and silver-coloured flowing poncho over white stretch skinny jeans. She was wearing her obviously much-adored Jimmy Choo shoes, and was in full make-up. Jenny, who had never seen her in the same outfit twice, wondered about the size and quantity of the luggage she must have brought with her.

  ‘Hello, everyone,’ she said cheerily, shooting Jenny a surprised look as she sat down in the seat offered by Peter Trent. ‘You were lucky to catch me – I was just about to go to lunch with Ian. He says there’s this really recommended little café in St Aldate’s that we must try.’

  Peter smiled and left to do his boss’s bidding, and Jenny, despite the continued curious glances sent her way by the younger woman, settled herself down more comfortably.

  ‘I have just a few more questions, Miss Foxton,’ Trevor began. ‘I hope you don’t mind Miss Starling’s presence, but sometimes we’ve found that it helps to have an impartial female to sit on interviews,’ Trevor flimflammed with a smile.

  ‘Oh that’s fine. Really, I’m not the nervous type.’ Pippa waved a hand vaguely in the air, and Jenny noticed, with some amusement, that her fingernails had been painted a matching turquoise colour. The girl’s make-up was flawless as well, and she wondered just how long it took her to get ready in the mornings. Hours, probably, Jenny surmised without envy.

  ‘That’s nice to hear,’ Trevor said, and hoped she meant it. ‘We just want to go over your movements the morning Maurice was found dead,’ he said, not quite truthfully.

  ‘Oh, I thought I said.’ Pippa batted her lashes at the inspector. ‘I had breakfast with Ian and the others, we listened to the opening speeches, then I went to Ian’s first lecture/demonstration for all the newbies. Then I left, and bumped into you on the way back and … well … that’s that.’

  Jenny’s eyes narrowed as she wondered if she should warn Pippa that she needed to be more comprehensive and accurate in her details. Then decided that the inspector probably wouldn’t appreciate her interrupting the flow of the interview and decided it would probably be best not to butt in.

  The inspector, unaware of the cook’s thoughts, nodded absently. ‘Yes. Were you surprised when you realized that Maurice was dead?’ he asked mildly.

  Pippa frowned. ‘Well, of course I was. I mean, why wouldn’t I be? You don’t expect people you know to just die, do you?’

  ‘No, of course not. And I understand that you had a, shall we say, somewhat complicated relationship with Mr Rai
nes, so you must have been upset to hear of his death?’ he persisted gently.

  Pippa stiffened a little on her chair and Jenny was sure that, underneath all that camouflaging make-up, she had paled. ‘Well, I was upset. I mean, I’m human, the same as anyone else. And just what do you mean, complicated? There wasn’t anything complicated about it. I hardly knew the man.’

  ‘Ah, but we’ve had several accounts from people who said that you and he were pretty friendly.’

  Pippa’s pretty face tightened ominously. ‘There’s some people around here with very dirty minds then, that’s all I can say. I wasn’t any more friendly with Maurice than I was with anyone else, and don’t you let Ian go hearing you say otherwise,’ she said grimly, ‘or he’ll go mad.’

  ‘So you’re denying that you liked flirting with him?’ Trevor said gently, and allowing himself to sound faintly surprised.

  Jenny, listening and watching, silently admired his technique.

  Pippa gave a sudden, nervous laugh. ‘Oh flirting! Well, yeah, I flirted with him a bit. He was good-looking and expected it. But it was just a bit of harmless fun, that’s all. Nobody took it seriously. Or rather’ – she frowned grimly again – ‘nobody should have. Look, what’s this all about then? Who’s been saying stuff against me?’ she demanded belligerently, her small chin jutting out in pugnacious petulance.

  ‘It’s been suggested though,’ Trevor said, ignoring her question, ‘that there was something a bit darker than mere flirting going on between you.’

  Pippa looked flummoxed for a moment. ‘Darker? What do you mean, darker?’