Death of a Delft Blue

‘Dear me, I hope not!’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘I confess, though, to a certain uneasiness. I am determined not to meet them under false pretences, and yet it is a little difficult to see…’

‘How to break the news to them that we think they poisoned that chocolate-cream (loathsome muck! ) and sent it to Florian with the express intention of laying him out? Yes, I take your point. Well, what shall we do?’

‘You will make a tour of the town. I am told that the church of St Bavo and the Meat Hall are well worth seeing.’

‘And you?’

‘I shall go to see Mrs Colwyn-Welch.’

‘Don’t you think I’d better come with you?’

‘I would prefer that you did not. If one of us is to be poisoned, I feel that your expectation of life should be considerably greater than my own.’

‘Sez you!’ retorted Laura morosely. ‘Well,’ she added, in a different tone, ‘at what time shall I come and collect you?’

‘I have no idea. You might like to purchase the Franz Hals guide book, if you decide to visit the Oude Mannenhuis, but you may prefer to spend the day at your favourite resort of Zandvoort,’ said Dame Beatrice equably.

‘I could do both, if you think you’ll be all day with the Colwyn-Welch poisoners. Don’t drink their coffee, will you?’

On this note they parted. Dame Beatrice was received with reticence by Binnen and her daughters, an attitude which caused her no surprise, since she had hardly anticipated that she would be welcomed with open arms.

‘You have come about Florian and those two girls,’ said Binnen, without beating about the bush. ‘We know nothing about the circumstances and cannot help you.’

Dame Beatrice was equally forthright.

‘Would you rather deal with me or with the Interpol people?’ she demanded. Binnen looked at her. Opal rose from her chair, a majestic figure.

‘You are not to threaten my mother,’ she said. ‘Why are you here to harass us?’

‘Not, I hope, to harass you, but I should like to ask one question,’ Dame Beatrice replied. She addressed herself again to Binnen. ‘I do not know how much you have gathered of what has occurred in England,’ she said, ‘but you probably know that the two girls you mentioned were poisoned by some chocolate- cream.’

‘So?’

‘That is all, unless you would like to tell me whether it is possible that the poison came from this house. I am making no accusation, you understand, but your grandson does appear to be involved.’

‘There is no poison in this house,’ said Binnen.

‘You were a member of the Netherlands Resistance, were you not?’

‘Unlike ourselves, who were interned,’ said the hitherto silent Ruby, with a certain amount of venom.

‘I was helping airmen to escape,’ said Binnen apologetically to her daughter. ‘Was that not a good thing?’

‘Yes,’ said Dame Beatrice, before Ruby could reply. She rose to take her leave.

‘Wait!’ said Ruby, springing to her feet from the sofa on which she had been seated. ‘Florian did get the poison from here. It was belonging to my mother. We did not know he had taken it. None of us knew.’

‘Be silent, Ruby!’ said Binnen, in dangerously quiet tones. ‘Nothing is to be gained by hysterical behaviour, or by telling such obvious lies. Control yourself, I beg of you. Nothing can be proved against anyone, because nothing exists which is wrong.’

‘Except the deaths of two harmless young women,’ Dame Beatrice pointed out. ‘Their deaths are a fact, and a fact which will need to be explained.’

‘But how should it concern you?’ asked Opal. ‘You are not the police.’

‘I am accredited to the Home Office,’ Dame Beatrice replied, ‘and the Home Office takes an interest in murder, you know.’

‘Murder?’ screamed Ruby.

‘You can’t prove anything,’ said Opal, calmly.

‘I may be able to prove that Mr Florian suspected that the chocolate was poisoned,’ retorted Dame Beatrice, looking firmly at her. Ruby, who had subsided again, leapt to her feet once more.

‘I shall kill you,’ she said firmly. Dame Beatrice was unmoved. ‘I shall kill you — now!’ said Ruby. Binnen got up and pushed her daughter back on to the sofa.

‘Do not be so silly to give yourself away. It is not fair or decent,’ she said sternly. Ruby began to cry. ‘So stop!’ said Binnen. She caught Dame Beatrice’s eye. ‘Think well before you take action. My daughters did not have an easy time during the war. Opal, you understand, is obstinate, but Ruby, you will agree, has not recovered from her experiences.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Opal, raising her head, ‘I am obstinate, and I do not give civil replies.’

‘I can understand that. Tell me more.’

‘Why should I?’ demanded Opal. ‘I can’t help it if Florian murders people. It’s nothing to do with me.’