Chief Inspector Doyle saw the connection. ‘The threads on the carpet in his office.’
‘And the scissors on the desk,’ Albert reminded him. ‘When you check, I believe you will find Brian’s fingerprints on them. Hardly damning I know.’
‘Did Brian poison Alan?’ Gary asked, his head tilted to one side as he tried to see the mystery from a different angle.
The chief inspector and the other officers didn’t know what he was referring to, which prompted an explanation where Gary told them about Alan’s bout of projectile vomiting the previous evening.
Albert shook his head. ‘I thought that might be the case too. Rex knocked Brian over, and when we got him back to his feet, he had a dark stain down his front which we all thought was blood.’
‘That’s right,’ said Gary, unsure where his father was going with this.
‘He told us it was cough medicine, didn’t he?’ Albert prompted his son.
Gary obediently replied, ‘Yes.’
With his right hand, Albert reached down to pet Rex, patting the dog’s head and scratching his ears. ‘Rex found it somewhere and brought it to me.’ Albert left out the part where he believed Rex knew it was an important clue because his audience didn’t need to hear that. ‘It wasn’t cough medicine at all. The bottle was a prescription for his cat, Fluffikins.’ From his pocket, Albert produced the bottle. ‘It’s something called, Syrup of Ipecac which is used to induce vomiting. If you remember, Alan got some on his hand when he helped Brian up. My guess is he accidentally then wiped his hand on his mouth or something. It was most likely a mild dose he got, yet enough to produce the result Gary and I witnessed.’
Alan groaned. ‘I did it to myself? I can’t believe it.’
Chief Inspector Doyle’s face could not be more creased from frowning if he tried. ‘Mr Smith, you are yet to tell me why you think Brian Pumphrey’s death was not murder.’
Albert nodded to concede the point and took another swig of his tea. ‘Mr Botham didn’t shove Brian into the mixer and he didn’t see it because he wasn’t in the marquee.’
‘Yes, he was, Dad,’ argued Gary. ‘He sent everyone else outside to get fresh ingredients.’
‘And he’s yet to provide anything close to an alibi for where he was when Brian went into the mixing machine,’ added CI Doyle.
‘That’s because he cannot,’ Albert told them with an annoying grin. He was enjoying this but doing so at the expense of everyone else. ‘Beefy is having an affair with Suzalls.’
The chief inspector threw his arms in the air. ‘Who the heck is Suzalls?’
‘Susan Parker,’ Albert supplied. ‘The wife of Dave 1 and another member of the baking team hired by Alan Crystal.’
‘Dave Won?’ questioned CI Doyle, not sure he heard right.
Rather than explain about the three Daves, Albert begged, ‘Just believe me on this. Beefy is having an affair with another man’s wife and he was … canoodling with her when Brian Pumphrey had his accident.’
PC Hendrix’s face was pinched with misunderstanding. ‘Canoodling?’
‘Um … smooching?’ Albert tried a different word, wondering if canoodling was another of those terms which had been dropped by the generations that followed his.
‘They were getting it on,’ supplied Wilshaw, with accompanying inappropriate actions which did, at least, deal with any remaining ambiguity.
CI Doyle clicked his fingers, stifling Wilshaw’s amusement instantly. ‘Wilshaw get on the radio and get Susan Parker and this Dave character picked up for questioning. I want this story corroborated.’
‘Beefy Botham was otherwise engaged and away from the mixing machines. Whether Brian had been waiting for his chance or just happened along at that time and took advantage of the machines being unguarded we shall never know. However, I feel certain he intended to have another attempt at scuppering the world record attempt. You see the finished product has to be edible, so there must have been hundreds of different things he could add to the batter to make it taste terrible.’
‘That’s what the aniseed smell was!’ blurted Gary, snapping his fingers. ‘He was adding it to the mix, and he fell in!’
Acting fast, the chief inspector looked at his constable. ‘Ferris get on the radio and find out if the pathologists have the batter they took off of Brian Pumphrey yet. I want to know if it contains high levels of aniseed and if they found a container. If he fell in, whatever he had the additive in, must have gone in with him.’
Ferris stepped away, using his radio to speak with someone as Albert continued. ‘The machine would have been on, and Brian would not have wanted to draw attention to himself by switching it off. Maybe he caught his cuff on the mechanism and was pulled in. Perhaps he leaned too far and overbalanced. Whatever the case, in he went, and there was no way out for him. By the time Brian was found, he’d already suffocated in the batter.’
Everyone was quiet for a time, working the flow of events and motivations through their minds. The silence was broken by Ferris saying, ‘The pathologists’ office has confirmed a large quantity of aniseed extract in the batter along with a supermarket chain bottle of it, the type home chefs buy.’
Looking directly at Albert, the chief inspector let his shoulders sag slightly. ‘Okay, Mr Smith. Let’s assume we are down to one murder. I do hope you are not going to claim Jordan Banks accidentally stabbed himself.’
Albert didn’t return the chief inspector’s wry smile; this wasn’t a humorous subject. ‘You all heard the claims that the competition was fixed,’ Albert was asking them to nod their confirmation.
‘I can still hear them arguing about it now,’ said Gary, referring to the remaining contestants
