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Grace had been standing by the open door to the music room for the last few minutes, holding back Mrs Ormsby, while marvelling at the natural way Charlie had with children. Detective Inspector Wallace was listening too, at first with impatience, then with quivering intensity. Detective Constable Kelly had departed as soon as the bottle was mentioned, with a whispered reminder from Grace to touch only the top of the bottle.
Mrs Ormsby’s expression had run the gamut from relief, to annoyance, to horror, before settling on concern for her child as she rushed into the room. As far as Grace could tell, fear and guilt were absent. Richard had been amused until the final revelation. He was now hunched in an armchair with his face shielded by his hands.
When Charlie emerged, his face raw with emotion, Grace followed him and Wallace back to the drawing room. Kelly was already there, with four bottles lined up on the table. Wallace raised an eyebrow at her.
Grace knelt in front of the table. Not that her expertise in poisons was much better than anyone else in the room, but her curiosity was roused. The poison bottle from the workroom was quite distinct from the others – a laboratory bottle, round, with a glass stopper, and a label clearly marking it as poison. The other three bottles were typical medicine bottles – rectangular, tapering to a narrow neck with a cork stopper. Two were labelled “Heart Tonic”, the other “Digestive Tonic”.
One of the heart tonic bottles had been sitting on its side, presumably the one from under the bed. The shape meant that a significant amount of liquid remained, despite the bottle having been tipped over by Agnes. Grace pointed out the tiny particles on the bottom and the faint dark oily slurry resting on the top of the red liquid, matching the colour, viscosity and seed remnants of the poisonous tutu extract. The other two tonic bottles, which had come from the bathroom cabinet, had no such contamination.
Wallace looked on with the falcon-eyed intensity he used when murder was afoot. “Kelly, tell DC Weston to take these to the police surgeon for analysis. Make sure he packs them carefully to ensure no breakage or spillage.”
Charlie intervened. “Sir, may I suggest we take samples of the liquid for the police surgeon to analyse the poison, while we keep the bottles for fingerprint testing?”
Grace thought Wallace was about to refuse. He would be right to do so, as there was a standard procedure to follow and fingerprinting was not yet in the police manual. But Wallace nodded. He directed Kelly to make a formal note on the decision. Both policemen watched closely as Grace drew off liquid from each bottle into labelled vials, which Charlie packed to give to DC Weston. Lily’s newly arrived glassware and laboratory equipment were getting a fine start to their working life.
Grace was packing the tonic bottles into the Gladstone bag when they heard a hesitant knock at the door.
“Come in,” Wallace barked.
Richard Ormsby edged his head around the door. “May I speak to Mr Pyke and Miss Penrose?”
Wallace eyed him suspiciously, but evidently saw no downside. He nodded and turned back to his notebook. Grace wondered how far they could assert their presence at the police investigation, before Wallace put his foot down. For now, she and Charlie followed Richard to the library. Cigar smoke still tainted the air, reminding her of the gut-churning minutes she had spent there after Doctor Ormsby’s death.
“You think my father’s medicine contained poison,” Richard stated, as soon as he had closed the door behind them.
“I’m afraid so, Mr Ormsby,” Charlie replied. “Do you know what was in the tonics?”
“Both were my stepmother’s formulations. I believe the heart tonic is based on hawthorn berries, steeped in alcohol, in a honey syrup. The digestive tonic is a mixture of ginger, garlic, kawakawa and honey, in apple cider vinegar. Father took the heart tonic every day, the digestive tonic only as needed.”
Grace noted the flick of Charlie’s eyes towards her. She took Richard’s arm and sat him down, drawing up a chair beside him. “We realise this is dreadful for you, Richard, but is there any conceivable way the tutu poison could have been added to the heart tonic in error?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Misery dragged Richard’s face down, from eyelids to jowls. “I took Father his heart tonic myself once during the week. Wednesday, I think. He was always forgetting. The bottle had already been in use for several days, with no previous ill effects, so it cannot have been faulty preparation. Besides, there was no way poison could be added by mistake. The preparation procedures are meticulous.”
“Do you have any idea what dosage of tutu poison would be needed to have a fatal effect?” Grace asked.
Richard shook his head. “If Agnes was ill after touching it to her tongue, then the poison must have been highly concentrated. Father is supposed to take a spoonful, but he tended to swig it from the bottle. You would think a doctor would know better.”
In Grace’s experience, doctors were far more casual about their own health than that of their patients. She was no better, having recently discharged herself from hospital far earlier than was good for her. From what the police surgeon had told her, the seeds of the tutu berry were highly toxic, and Mrs Ormsby had further concentrated the poison by extracting the active ingredient from ground seeds.
“I saw how the poisoned rats died.” Richard clutched Grace’s arm, the agony on his face revealing his understanding of what his father must have suffered. “I know how this looks. There are only three people who had access to the workroom. Me, my stepmother and Lawson.”
“And anyone who had access to the spare key,” Grace reminded him.
After a moment’s pause, Richard pulled up his sagging shoulders and turned to Charlie. “Miss Penrose said you are a private detective, Mr Pyke. I beg you to investigate this on my behalf. The police will surely jump to the false conclusion that one of us is to blame. I saw the look on that detective inspector’s face.”
“Mr Ormsby,” Charlie replied, “I can assure you from personal experience that Detective Inspector Wallace is an exemplary officer. I must also tell you that I am obliged to pass on any information you reveal to me, if it constitutes relevant evidence. The sole aim of my investigation is to uncover the truth, wherever it takes me.”
“And I am telling you that I want the truth, Mr Pyke. Please, I must know who did this to my father.”
Charlie glanced at Grace. “Unfortunately, I have already been engaged to investigate this case. It would not be ethical to work for two clients.”
“I presume Miss Penrose is your other client,” Richard said, “after my brother’s appalling accusations against her. I understand your loyalties, Mr Pyke, and I don’t wish to be ungallant, but Miss Penrose is no longer a suspect.”
Charlie hesitated.
Richard rushed to fill the pause. “I can afford to pay whatever you ask, which will save Miss Penrose the expense. Please, I want this whole awful situation to go away. I should be arranging my father’s funeral and supporting my family, not dealing with the police. There are so many decisions to be made. Mrs Simpson is asking for a list of people to inform. The vicar wants to know Father’s favourite hymns. Finch wants to know which printer to use for the black-bordered stationery. As if I cared a damn about hymns and stationery at a time like this!”
Richard flushed. “Apologies, Miss Penrose, for my unseemly outburst. It’s all too much. Please, I need your help.”
Charlie drew Grace aside. “Working for Richard Ormsby would give us much better access to the family and the house, and he can afford our services. However, I do not wish to break my promise to Doctor Beechworth.”
“I agree, Charlie,” Grace said. “But Beechworth won’t care for whom you work, so long as the truth is uncovered. Richard is right. Ivy and I will no longer be suspects, as the poison must have been administered before the soirée.”
Charlie returned to Richard, who was waiting with ill-concealed desperation. “I agree to investigate on your behalf, Mr Ormsby, but with conditions. I must have free access to the house and grounds, and permission to question all persons in the household and guests at the soirée. I will seek the truth, wherever that leads me. Are you absolutely sure that is what you want, bearing in mind that the most likely suspects are your own family?”
Richard met his gaze squarely. “I accept, Mr Pyke, gratefully and unconditionally. I know it wasn’t me who poisoned my father and I would swear on my life it wasn’t my stepmother or Lawson.”
“Objectively, I hardly need point out that your father’s wealth provides a motive to all the beneficiaries of his estate.” Charlie met Richard’s defiance with a hard stare of his own. “As for Miss Lawson, she might have the strongest motive of all. I suspect her chances of marrying well will be materially improved by your father’s death.”
Richard rose from his chair, fists curled. “And I tell you, Lawson is innocent. You have proven yourself an able detective, Mr Pyke, to sniff out our secret so fast. Please proceed without delay. Whatever it costs.”
Grace could see that Charlie still hadn’t made a decision on the financial aspects of his new business, so she stepped in. “I believe the standard fee is ten pounds, assuming the case can be resolved within a week.”
“Ten pounds?” Richard queried.
“A special rate,” Grace assured him, “as Mr Pyke’s findings will benefit me as well. You will have the services not only of Mr Pyke, the Lead Detective, but also his business partner, a detective inspector with over thirty years of experience, as well as a team of legal and medical experts.”
“My apologies if it sounded as if I was questioning the fee, Miss Penrose. I am simply having trouble taking in extraneous details. Father undoubtedly spent far more on the ill-fated soirée. To be honest, I wasn’t even aware there were private detectives working in Dunedin.”
“Discretion is a vital part of their service, as you will appreciate,” Grace replied. “I ought not to mention it, but Mr Pyke was behind the successful resolution of the recent Choral Hall case. Naturally, he works with his contacts within the police force and allows them to take the credit, to avoid any unwanted attention from the press.”
“Really? I admit I am impressed Mr Pyke. A shocking state of affairs when citizens are not safe from anarchists on the streets of their own city.”
Charlie did not wish to dwell on that particular case, nor did he wish to stand like an idiot while Grace negotiated a ridiculous fee on his behalf. Ten pounds indeed. On his detective constable’s wage, he would have had to work for two months to earn that much. Still, he was not about to object, given his precarious financial situation. Time to take control and prove his worth.
“As Miss Penrose has indicated, Mr Ormsby, I will do my best to investigate discreetly. However, I will have to ask about every aspect of your father’s life. I will need to see your father’s current will and ask about any animosities within the circle of family and wider acquaintances, as well as the movements of all persons on the day of the soirée.”
“Of course,” Richard agreed. “Whatever you need.”
“As the police will question you on those matters as well, may I suggest we save time by attending their interview together?”
Richard nodded. “I’ll get Father’s will from his study, Mr Pyke.”
Charlie took the small glass bottle that Grace had passed him from the Gladstone bag. “Before you do, Mr Ormsby, can I ask if you have any bottles like this in the workroom?”
Richard took the reagent bottle. “It’s possible. I don’t do much of the practical work in the workroom. Is it important?”
“Probably not.” Charlie took the bottle back, touching only the top.
Richard departed through a hidden door in the back of the library.
Grace waited for the door to close behind him, before rising on her toes to kiss Charlie on the cheek. “Now that the poison is discovered, I should get back to my medical studies. Make sure Wallace knows that Ormsby was already feeling unwell before the soirée began. From what is known of the onset of symptoms, it is likely he ingested the poisoned tonic around mid-afternoon to early evening.”
“A shame you cannot stay, Grace,” Charlie said. “Would you let the rest of the Southern Investigations team know that I will update them on developments this evening?”
“You had better or I’ll come looking for you.”
Charlie trailed his fingertips down her cheek. “Is that a promise?”
“No, Detective Pyke, that is a threat.” Grace slipped out of the room before he could think of a suitable reply.