Spotted Hemlock

chapter seven

Machinations of a Paternal Aunt

‘… we could not but admire the grace of form which raises this kind of ass almost to the dignity of the horse.’

Ibid.

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So, whatever the motive of the murderer, it scarcely seems as though money could have entered into it,’ said Miss McKay to the police. ‘I refuse to believe that the mother killed that poor girl for two thousand pounds, or the stepfather, either.’

‘Stranger things have happened,’ said the local Detective-Inspector. ‘We shall keep an eye on Mrs Biancini and on him. Two thousand might come in very useful to a gentleman of his kidney. Not that he’d have got it, with a husband in the offing.’

‘And of what kidney, exactly, is he, Inspector?’ Dame Beatrice enquired.

‘All foreigners can bear watching, madam.’

But with this insular comment Dame Beatrice was not content.

‘It appears,’ she said to Miss McKay, ‘that the aunt and the niece had had quite a lot to do with one another. They may have been in sympathy. The girl may have told the aunt, her father’s sister, things which she did not tell her mother. I shall go north and see her.’

‘Not until after the inquest, I presume,’ said Miss McKay. The inquest, adjourned at the request of the police, produced nothing new and resulted in a verdict that the subject had died from an administration of coniine, but whether she had administered it herself, or had had it administered to her, the coroner’s jury refused to decide.

Dame Beatrice, driven by George, her chauffeur, to the Hour-Glass at Harrafield, decided that the receptionist was also manageress. Dame Beatrice was shown to her room and had not been there for ten minutes before there was a knock at the door. The compliments of the manageress, and would Dame Beatrice care to take a private glass of sherry in the sitting-room?

The sitting-room, obviously the sanctum of the manageress, was a comfortable little den at the back of the reception office. It was well-furnished, showed a television set, a portable radio and a surprisingly well-filled bookcase containing, Dame Beatrice noted, works on spiritualism, theosophy, poltergeists, cookery and gardening.

The dead girl’s aunt followed her gaze.

‘I don’t care for gardening myself,’ she said. ‘I bought them for Norah. Funny you should be down here from the college. I suppose you know all there is to know? I was terribly cut up when Dodo wrote. I was very fond of Norah. Too bad when Dodo, who always was very foolish, took up with that Tony Biancini. I feel bad about it, because it was here she met him. They used to go out and about together, but I thought nothing of it because of the difference in their ages, but there you are, you see. If a middle-aged woman is going to make a fool of herself, there’s nothing you can say that will stop it. Still, it brought I and Norah together. I used to feel quite sorry for the girl, and, of course, she took it real bad when they married. No wonder, with my poor brother such a good husband and father. I thought Dodo owed something more to his memory than to go gallivanting into marriage with the son of an Italian waiter and a Maltese waitress from a little chop-shop off the Strand. That’s what he is, that Tony. He told me so himself, before him and Dodo got so thick. Dee-an, he calls her. I never did, nor did my poor brother, either. Doris she was christened and Dodo she’s been ever since, until this wedding came about. One thing, she didn’t have it white—or so I was told. I got an invite, but, of course, I didn’t go. Couldn’t, I said; wouldn’t, I meant. I should have thrown my hymn-book at the pair of them!’

Dame Beatrice nodded sympathetically.

‘The college,’ she began, with some diplomacy but less ingenuousness, ‘wondered whether you could possibly throw any light on your niece’s death.’

‘So that’s why you’re here! I thought it was rather strange, you turning up and putting the address of the college on your letter. Well, I only wish I could tell you something that would help! But who would have done such a wicked thing? That’s what I ask myself, morning to night I do. Who could have done it? There doesn’t seem anybody, does there? I suppose’—she hesitated and then plunged—‘I suppose it couldn’t be a joke… what the students call a rag… that went wrong?’

‘That is a point which will have to be considered,’ said Dame Beatrice. She did not add that, in her opinion, it was nearly the most unlikely explanation that could be offered. ‘But there’s a lot of clearing-up to be done before we go as far as that. You see, these are all agriculturalists. They do know about plants and it was some preparation made from a wild plant which caused the death.’

She described the findings at the inquest.

‘I thought they’d adjourn it,’ said the aunt. ‘So far as I’ve read’—she nodded towards the bookcase—‘they always do. Do you know when the funeral is? Dodo didn’t say in her letter, but I feel I must go, though we’re that short-handed— still, we’re not full, being October, so the maids will have to manage. Cook will keep an eye open, I dare say.’

‘Were you surprised to hear of your niece’s marriage?’

‘Why, no. You see, I helped them over that. Dodo doesn’t know—not that I really care—but I let Norah get married from here. In the Easter holiday it was, the Wednesday after the Bank Holiday. I gave the reception for them, too. Being in the hotel business, it helped, you see. Everything was on the spot and I made the reception my wedding present, and, when the guests knew it was my niece, they clubbed together and gave her a cheque—not a large one, you know, but it was very nice of them, I thought—and a special cake-knife to cut the cake. Oh, we had a lovely time of it that day, and then… this!’

She blinked and swallowed, but she was a self-controlled woman and did not break down. Dame Beatrice sipped sherry and gave her time to recover. The aunt blew her nose and then smiled.