Chapter Twenty-Nine

Agatha and Eddy were in the kitchen. The maid had gone for the day and Thomas the driver wasn’t due in until later that afternoon.

‘Have you put enough in?’ Eddy asked, eyeing up the dried, powdered plant in the leather pouch that was lying half open on the kitchen table. He had just watched Agatha sprinkle some of the poison into the creamy mix she was pounding angrily with a wooden spoon in a large bowl.

Agatha didn’t answer but instead gave him a dark look.

‘Just seems funny she never got ill from the vodka.’ Eddy eyed Agatha. He was sitting with his feet up on the edge of the table. He was drinking a cup of tea and smoking a hand-rolled cigarette.

‘Get yer feet off the table,’ she said, glowering at him.

‘Sounds like the mad old cow’s doing better than ever,’ Eddy said, taking his time to move one foot and then the other back to the flagstone floor.

‘She never got ill ’cos she wasn’t drinking the damned vodka,’ Agatha snapped. ‘If she had, she’d have been ill.’

‘And you think this’ll do the trick?’ Eddy asked, looking at the bowl of oatmeal mix. ‘That and the eggnog?’ He nodded over at the flask containing the chilled nutmeg and cinnamon milk drink at the far end of the kitchen table.

‘Yes, I think it’ll do the trick,’ she lied. She had put only a small amount in the drink. Enough to make Henrietta unwell, but not poorly enough to kill her. She had been careful, very careful, with the measurement of the dried-out white snakeroot. She knew she was taking a risk, defying the master’s orders, but she couldn’t have Henrietta’s death on her conscience. She just couldn’t. Her reckoning was, if Henrietta fell ill, she’d be seen by a doctor, perhaps even hospitalised, and they’d treat her. Then the master would have to think of another way of getting shot of his wife. Another way that didn’t involve her or Eddy.

Putting the wooden spoon on the edge of the bowl, she made her way over to the walk-in pantry.

‘What you after?’ Eddy asked, quickly putting his rollie in the ashtray and quietly standing up, making sure his chair didn’t scrape on the stone floor.

‘I’m sure I’ve got a few raisins somewhere …’ Her voice trailed off as she disappeared into the depths of the larder.

Quick as a flash, Eddy grabbed the pouch of poison, tiptoed around the table, unscrewed the top of the flask containing the eggnog and tapped in a good measure of the dried white powder. All the while, his heart pounded.

‘Found them!’ Agatha’s voice sounded out from the pantry.

Carefully screwing the top back on and placing the pouch of poison where it had been lying on the table, Eddy scooted round to his chair and sat back down. He was just relighting his rollie when Agatha appeared, holding a small jar of raisins.

‘Knew I had some somewhere,’ she said, twisting the top off and sprinkling a small amount into the mix.

Eddy watched as Agatha then spooned out half a dozen creamy round blobs onto a tray lined with greaseproof paper.

‘That’s one bowl I won’t be asking to lick out,’ Eddy said with a chuckle.

Agatha gave him a stony look. She did not find anything even remotely amusing about what they were being forced to do.

As Eddy finished his cigarette, his heartbeat slowed down. He knew Agatha better than anyone and he knew exactly what she was doing. Well, he’d just made sure she’d done what she had been supposed to do. The sooner Henrietta was out of the way, the better.

Then, the so-called ‘evidence’ the master had fabricated against them, which was locked away in the master’s safe, could be destroyed.

And they could all get on with their lives.