by Cora Buhlert
Tara Willows ran a hand through her unruly hair, considering.
“We were both really excited about the adaptation of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, so we talked about that,” she finally said, “Oh yes, and that grisly nephew of hers had bothered her about moving to a care home again.”
“You know Nicholas York?” DC Walker inquired.
Tara Willows shook her head. “Not personally, but I know he’s a jerk, cause Eudora complained about him all the time.”
“What precisely did she complain about?” Helen wanted to know.
“He was always dropping by at her house unannounced, as if to check that she wasn’t doing anything he disapproved of — and that nephew disapproved of everything Eudora did. And he kept hounding her to move into a care home.”
“Mr. York told us that he was concerned about his aunt’s failing health,” Helen said.
“Oh please!” Tara snorted with derision. “Eudora was incredibly sharp and healthy, given her age. Sure, she had a bad back, but otherwise she was in great health.”
“Mr. York claimed that his aunt was displaying signs of dementia,” DC Walker said.
“Yeah, he’d like that, would he? So he can have her declared incompetent and get his grubby hands on her house.”
“So you think Mr. York was after Miss Pembroke’s house?”, Helen asked.
“What else would he be after?” Tara Willows countered, “A house in Hampstead is worth a fortune. Everybody knows that. And Eudora said her nephew was always complaining about high prices and short money and long commutes, cause he lived somewhere in Kent or Surrey or Sussex — far out, at any rate.”
As potential motives went, it certainly made sense. And Nicholas York wouldn’t be the first greedy relative who got tired of waiting for an elderly relative to pop their clogs and decided to help matters along a little.
“But Eudora always said that when she died, her nephew would get a nasty surprise, cause she’d made sure that he wouldn’t inherit anything except what he deserved.”
“So Miss Pembroke disinherited Mr. York?” Helen probed.
“That’s what she said, at any rate. I hope she got around to it.”
“Do you know who the beneficiary of the new will is?”
Tara Willows shook her head. “No idea.” She shrugged. “Some kind of charity probably. Eudora didn’t have any other relatives aside from that ghastly nephew.”
“Thank you, Ms. Willows. You were a great help.”
Helen handed Tara Willows her card, while DC Walker paid for a book he’d picked from the shelf. The cover showed a young woman dressed in skin-tight leather, with tattoos on her arms and back. The woman was holding a sword in one hand and shooting lightning bolts from the other.
When Helen frowned at the cover, DC Walker shrugged apologetically. “It’s the latest in a series and Charlotte — I mean, Ms. Wong — is a fan.”
“We should definitely follow up on the will,” Helen said, as they walked back to the car, “Check out if Eudora Pembroke really did change it and who the new beneficiary is, since that might give us a suspect who’s not even on our radar yet.”
“Unless the new beneficiary really is a charity,” DC Walker said. He was clutching a bag emblazoned with the New Moon logo. “Cause charities usually don’t murder people for their inheritance.”
“Depends on how desperate for donations the charity is,” Helen said dryly, “It will also be interesting to see if Nicholas York knew his aunt had changed her will or was planning to change it. Cause that would influence his motive.”
“We could ask him,” DC Walker suggested.
“And hope he tells the truth this time around?” Helen countered, “After all, Nicholas York has lied to us before, about his aunt’s health, about where she got her herbs from…”
“He might not have known about the herbs,” DC Walker said.
“Maybe. At any rate, we should check his finances, see if he is in debt and could use an infusion of cash in the form of a Victorian house in Hampstead.”
“Already on it, boss”,, DC Walker said. He paused. “You know, it might still turn out to be an accident. Or suicide.”
“It might,” Helen agreed, “But until the post-mortem tomorrow morning, we won’t know for sure. And until then, the death of Eudora Pembroke remains suspicious.”
Both Helen and DC Walker showed up on time for the post-mortem at eight o’clock sharp the next morning, even though Helen had enjoyed a pleasant dinner at a fine Indian restaurant with DCI Simon Westmoreland from the Counter Terrorism Command (and for once Helen had a case that was more exciting than his, cause a poisoned self-styled witch certainly trumped an inept terrorist wannabe) the night before, while DC Walker had done whatever it was that he and Charlotte Wong did during their time off.
The morgue was freshly scrubbed and smelled of disinfectants, as always, and Dr. Rajiv seemed almost indecently cheerful, given the early hour.
“My initial suspicions have been confirmed,” he announced, as soon as Helen and DC Walker entered, “Eudora Pembroke was poisoned.”
“Do you know what the poison was?” Helen asked.
“Colchicine,” Dr. Rajiv replied, “Not exactly the most common of toxins. In fact, I think this is the first fatal colchicine poisoning I’ve had here on my slab.”
“How would a person come by colchicine?” Helen wanted to know.
“Colchicine is contained in the seeds, blossoms, leaves and tubers of the autumn crocus plant. But it’s also available in synthetic form for a variety of medical uses such as the treatment of gout, familial Mediterranean fever, Behçet’s disease, pericarditis and atrial fibrillation. There have also been trials to use colchicine for cancer therapy. Finally, the substance also has a couple of botanical uses in the crossing and breeding of plants.”
“So it’s a common substance?” DC Walker inquired.
“Not really,” Dr. Rajiv said, “The medical uses are all fairly specialised and many of those diseases are rarely found in people of North West European origin.”
“Gout isn’t exactly rare,” DC Walker countered, “My Uncle Theo and Aunt Edna both had it.”
“But nowadays, with safer and more modern substances available, colchicine is only used to treat gout in patients who cannot tolerate nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs,” Dr. Rajiv explained, “And such patients are fairly rare.”
“Eudora Pembroke reportedly had extensive knowledge of herbalism,” Helen interjected, “Is it possible that she used colchicine to self-medicate and accidentally overdosed?”
Dr. Rajiv shook his head. “Unlikely. To begin with, Miss Pembroke suffered from none of the ailments against which colchicine is normally prescribed. On the contrary, she was very healthy for a woman her age, though she did have chronic low back pain according to her GP. And besides, the dosage was much too high for any medical use. A trained herbalist would have known that.”
“What about those botanical uses you mentioned?” Helen asked, “Miss Pembroke grew various herbs in her garden. Is it possible that she accidentally came into contact with colchicine while gardening?”
“Unless Eudora Pembroke was involved commercial plant breeding via genetic manipulation or was trying to solve the sterility problem associated with certain hybrid plants, it’s highly unlikely.”
“So that leaves the plant you mentioned,” Helen said, “Is it common in Britain?”
“Common enough,” Dr. Rajiv said, “But I guess at this point I’d better hand over to Ms. Wong.”
Charlotte Wong stepped forward, also inordinately cheerful given the early hour. DC Walker beamed at her and Charlotte smiled back.
“I have analysed the contents of Eudora Pembroke’s stomach and also the remnants of her salad and her nightly tea which we found in her kitchen,” Charlotte announced, “The herbal tea mixture contained a whole lot of harmless to beneficial herbs.”
“So the poison wasn’t in the tea then?” Helen asked.
Charlotte shook her head. “No, it wasn’t. The poison was in the salad, which contained one plant that is definitely not harmless, namely…”
Charlotte Wong pressed a button on a remote control, while Helen suppressed a sigh. This was going to be another Power Point presentation about the life story of the poison in question, whereas Helen only cared about who had used it to kill Eudora Pembroke.
On cue, a photo of a pretty purple flower appeared on the computer screen in the morgue. The expression on DC Walker’s face was positively rapturous, though Helen suspected it was due to the lovely Ms. Wong rather than the purple flower.
“…Colchicum autumnale, commonly known as autumn crocus, meadow saffron or naked lady. Very pretty, but also very toxic. Even handling the plant can cause skin irritation, ingesting it is fatal, unless immediate counter measures are taken.”
Charlotte pressed a button on her remote and another picture of the same plant, this time a drawing from an old herbarium, appeared.
“Every part of this plant is toxic. The blossoms in particular, but also the leaves, stems, bulbs, seeds.”
“Can you tell which part of the plant was in the salad?” Helen wanted to know.
“The leaves.”
“Why not the blossoms?” DC Walker asked, “Considering they’re the most toxic part.”
“Because the blossoms are not in season,” Charlotte explained, “There’s a reason the plant is commonly known as autumn crocus, you know? Because it blooms in autumn. Coincidentally, Colchicum autumnale’s late bloom also explain the curious common name ‘naked lady’, since the blossoms often appear when the leaves have already wilted, leaving the lady — err, blossom — naked, so to say.”
“Is it possible that Eudora Pembroke consumed the leaves by mistake and that her death was accidental?” Helen asked.
“Actually, that’s rather likely. For you see, the leaves of Colchicum autumnale happened to closely resemble the leaves of Allium ursinum, also known as ramsons, buckrams, wild garlic or bear’s garlic…”
Another press of the button and two photos of leafy plants appeared next to each other. To Helen they looked utterly identical.
“The photo on the left shows Allium ursinum, the plant on the right is our friend Colchicum autumnale,” Charlotte said, “As you can see, it’s easy to get them mixed up. Except that Allium ursinum is edible and may be used for salads, pesto and the like, while Colchicum autumnale is highly toxic. Foragers occasionally get one mixed up with the other, so accidental poisonings happen.”
“Could it have happened here?” Helen wanted to know.
“Could, sure,” Charlotte said, “Did… I’m not so sure about that. After all, everybody said that Eudora Pembroke had in-depth knowledge about medicinal and magical herbs. And getting wild garlic mixed up with autumn crocus is a beginner’s mistake.”
“A mistake that neither Eudora Pembroke nor Tara Willows would have been likely to make,” Helen mused.
“Besides, if the source was an accidental mix-up at Tara Willows’ shop, we would have had reports of other poisonings,” DC Walker pointed out.
Helen turned to Dr. Rajiv. “Did you check if there have been other colchicine poisonings in the past few days, fatal or non-fatal?” she asked.
Dr. Rajiv nodded. “I did and there were none. At least none that have been reported.”
“Why would Eudora Pembroke have consumed that other plant anyway?” DC Walker asked, “I mean, does it have any known medical uses or did she simply want a tasty salad?”
“Allium ursinum shares some of the medicinal properties of the other plants of the genus Allium,” Dr. Rajiv said.
“Which are?” Helen asked.
“Onions, regular garlic, chives. They are all beneficial in cases of high blood pressure and blood circulation problems, arteriosclerosis and the like. Allium ursinum is also used as a remedy for some respiratory and gastrointestinal issues.”
“What is more, wild garlic is rather tasty, when freshly gathered,” Charlotte added, “So maybe she simply liked it.”
“But if she was such an expert, wouldn’t she have noticed that her salad was made from the wrong herbs?” DC Walker wanted to know.
“Allium ursinum and Colchicum autumnale tend to look even more alike, when you have only the leaves, not the entire plant,” Charlotte replied, “There are still subtle differences, of course, but you’d only notice them, if you were explicitly looking for them. And Eudora Pembroke apparently wasn’t.”
“Why didn’t she call 999, once she got sick?” DC Walker asked, “Maybe she could have been saved, if she’d been taken to the hospital at once.”
“Colchicine is a slow acting poison,” Dr. Rajiv said, “Several hours can pass between consumption and the onset of symptoms. The skin rash on her hands was probably the first warning she got and that’s far from conclusive. She might not even have made the connection, especially if she had no reason to suspect that she had been poisoned. And by the time the vomiting and the diarrhoea set in, it was too late.”
“So the fact that she didn’t notice she was using the wrong herb and didn’t call 999 when she got sick suggests that Eudora Pembroke had no reason to mistrust the source of the herbs,” Helen mused, “Which means that she got the poisonous herbs from someone she trusted, someone whose knowledge and judgement she wouldn’t question.”
“Which leaves the nephew, whom she would probably have trusted,” DC Walker said, “Though I don’t really see him as the type to bring his aunt fresh herbs. Not sure if he has the knowledge either”
“He did mention that he used to go herb gathering on Hampstead Heath with his aunt, when he was a child,” Helen pointed out, “That means Nicholas York might have the knowledge required.”
“There’s also one person who definitely has the herbal knowledge required,” DC Walker said, “Namely Tara Willows.”
“Yes, Tara Willows has the knowledge and the means,” Helen agreed, “But she doesn’t have a motive.”
“Actually, she does,” DC Walker pointed out, “Because I talked to Ms. Pembroke’s solicitor and she really did change her will three months ago. According to the new will, Nicholas York only gets a few family mementos, but the house and the main part of the estate goes to… — drumroll — …Tara Willows.”
“Now that’s a surprise,” Helen said, “And coincidentally, it also gives Tara Willows a most excellent motive.”
“Of course, the question is, did Tara Willows and Nicholas York know about the changed will and its contents?” DC Walker mused.
“Only one way to find out,” Helen said, “We ask them.”
Two and a half hour later, Helen and DC Walker stepped once more into the New Moon Esoteric Shop, their arrival announced by a jingling chime.
Tara Willows was behind the counter this time, selling an incense blend to a young woman with lots of piercings. Her cat was in its usual spot in the cosy armchair in the corner.
She handed the bag with the incense to the customer with a smile and turned to Helen and DC Walker.
“Good morning, Inspectors. Do you know anything more about what happened to Eudora?”
Her expression was open, her tone concerned. Innocence? Or just good acting?
“Our forensic pathologist has been able to determine that Ms. Pembroke died of colchicine poisoning,” Helen said.
“Colchicine?” Tara Willows pressed her hand to her mouth. “But that’s autumn crocus, isn’t it?”
“So you’re familiar with the substance, Ms. Willows?” Helen probed.
“Yes, I… it’s part of my job to be familiar with toxic plants.”
“Because some toxic plants are used in magical rituals, aren’t they?” Helen asked.
“Yes, they are. Wolfsbane, hemlock, henbane, belladonna, mandrake root, black hellebore, tansy, devil’s trumpet…”
“What about autumn crocus?” DC Walker wanted to know.
“Regular crocus is sometimes used in love potions,” Tara Willows said
, “And according to the Ancient Egyptians, burning crocus blossoms will bestow visions revealing the identity of thieves.”
“Now that would be a neat trick,” Helen remarked.
“But there aren’t all that many ritual uses for autumn crocus, though it has been used as a remedy for gout in times of old.”
“Do you sell any part of the autumn crocus plant here at your shop, Ms. Willows?” Helen wanted to know.
“No.” Tara Willows shook her head emphatically. “I don’t sell any toxic plants here. The potential for abuse is too great.”
“What if someone needs a poisonous plant for a ritual?” DC Walker asked.
“Then they’re either experienced enough to know where to find it or they shouldn’t be undertaking the ritual in the first place,” Tara Willows said firmly, “Many of the poisonous plants used in rituals are dangerous to handle, because the toxins can be absorbed via the skin, so you absolutely shouldn’t use them, unless you know what you’re doing.”
“What about autumn crocus? Can the toxin by absorbed via the skin as well?” Helen wanted to know.
“It causes skin irritations, but it doesn’t kill you, if you only touch it,” Tara replied, “You’d have to ingest it…” She broke off, horrified. “Is that what happened to Eudora? Did she somehow ingest autumn crocus?”
“It was in her salad,” DC Walker said, “Apparently, she mistook it for wild garlic.”
“No way,” Tara insisted, “Eudora would never have made such a stupid rookie mistake.”
“We have reason to believe that it wasn’t a mistake, but foul play,” Helen said, “Someone deliberately passed off autumn crocus leaves as wild garlic and handed them to Miss Pembroke. Someone she had no reason to mistrust.”
It was only now that Tara Willows recognised the suspicion in Helen’s voice and gaze. She took a step backwards, stumbling against the shelves behind the counter.
“And you think I did it? No. No way. Why would I poison one of my best customers?”