Episode 20 - Agnus dei?

Saturday December 12

Breakfast at the cottage was proceeding as boisterously as usual. Gary had given the Peel interview a lot of though. He was impressed with Cleo’s approach and wondered how she arrived at her questions. She had startled Peel several times into revealing herself as a scrupulously ambitious woman, and that made it easier to see her as a murderess, which she was, Gary was sure.

“What made you go in that direction, Cleo?”

“Just a hunch. I enjoy taking risks and Peel’s reactions were gratifying. But the real work for us starts now. I hope Dorothy and Vera will find something out. We need to have my theories substantiated.”

“I’m not relying on them finding anything, Cleo. Vera is sensible, but Dorothy seemed a little flustered.”

“Vera asked me in so many words if they were being sent on a wild goose chase. Dorothy might have been shocked by our argument, Gary. We should not argue in front of her. She always sees our arguments in a negative light. Vera is different.”

“There’s always that, I suppose,” said Gary. “I don’t always live up to Dorothy’s expectations.”

“Can we get the inquest reports on those other dead husbands. I don’t know for sure how many she got through.”

“I’ll order them now,” said Gary, musing that it would not do any harm and presumably confirm that the men were judged to have died of natural causes. A phone-call to Colin Peck set the ball rolling.

“We can study the reports this afternoon, Gary. Bang goes another siesta, however.”

“Not if we work fast…”

“I’ll look in at HQ and come home,” said Gary.

I’ll read them if Colin sends them to me,” said Cleo.

“You’ll be a step ahead then. I won’t have time at the office.”

“You said it.”

Then the phone rang

ccccc

“I’ve read read thereports,” Cleo announced at lunch.

“Any surprises?

”Sure. Plenty. Do you want to hear what I think?”

“Of course I do.”

“I’m quite bothered about about that first interview with Peel after reading what she actually might have been up to.”

“That woman is a pain in the arse.”

“That interview was very like yesterday’s, but less informative. I think we’ve been treading water,” said Cleo.

“So do I, though all this business is happening in days rather than weeks. It just feels like an eternity since we found that guy in the wine tank.”

“We did not know then that Peel was married to him. She could have told us, but she didn’t. She must have known we’d find out sooner or later.”

“I expect she was banking on later. She was not going to tell us anything she decided we did not need to know, especially if she was planning to do a bunk,” said Gary. “And she kept to that format yesterday.”

“But she gave herself away more than once,” said Cleo.

 “It’s weird that no one seems to have know about the marriage. Someone always puts two and two together.”

“But someone like Louis Battle, for example, might keep some knowledge to himself, waiting for a more opportune moment,” said Gary.

“Peel was ‘carrying on’ with Barclay, they said. Maybe that’s why they did not think she was married to him. It was all just a bit of scandal and much preferable to the boring state of marriage that does not provoke the sort of gossip enjoyed by so many.”

“What luck that Mia found all those passports in time to stop Peel clearing off,” said Gary.

“On consideration, the first interview was no use, was it?” said Cleo. “Again, I did not know how to get her to tell me anything.”

“What do you suggest now?”

“We can only think forward when we know how the husbands died.”

“How are we to contradict inquests that report that they all dies of natural causes?” said Gary.

“Doesn’t it all sound suspicious?” said Cleo. “How about DNA tests?”

”We can do DNA tests only if we can get at samples. If a body is released and then cremated, that’s the end of it.”

“What if the men were buried? Forensics could get samples then. We have inquest reports, but we do not know the whereabouts of those guys after their bodies were released.”

“So those corpses would have to be found and exhumed.”

“If we want proof that they did not die of natural causes, that’s about the size of it,” said Cleo.

“Let’s look at the inquest reports again, shall we?” said Gary. “Colin did send them, didn’t he?”

Colin had indeed sent the reports to Gary’s Peel case directory. They contained little information, however. Two husbands were mentioned, Montague and Cornell, both of whom had not raised any suspicions in death. Both were buried, one outside Bristol and one outside Bath. No one was accused of any misdeed. The death certificates were issued by family doctors and the inquests were only held because the deaths had been sudden and unexpected.

“At least the poor guys weren’t cremated,” said Gary. “Thank God for small mercies.”

“Never mind God. Can you get exhumation orders, Gary?”

“If I can prove there’s no alternative, it should be possible.”

“There’s isn’t. Why should an application be refused?” said Cleo. “We have a woman in custody suspected of at least three homicides on at least three husbands.”

“I’ll have get Chris to do a more detailed analysis of Barclay first,” said Gary.

“He fell into the wine tank. He must have been pushed. Why else would he fall in?”

“Was he in a sober enough to climb those metal rungs, assuming he did not fetch the ladder. blood alcohol was well above normal,” said Gary.

“We’ve never asked that question,” said Cleo, “but some alcoholics only start to function when they’ve topped up their alcohol levels.”

Gary dialled Chris in the forensic lab at HQ, chatted for a moment then handed the receiver to Cleo, who was not quite sure if Gary took her idea seriously, but did not want to be held responsible if the exhumations were in vain.

“It’s like this, Chris. We - that’s me AND Gary - need to know if Barclay was healthy when he climbed to the top of the tank to look inside it.”

“I assume he was, apart from his high blood alcohol level. He was probably as healthy as he ever got.”

“Supposing he had been given something that made him pass out a couple of hours later. Would a DNA test show that?”

“I should think so, but so would a detailed blood test and it’s faster. I only did an alcohol test last time. He had no visible injuries except that bump on the head and there was no evidence that someone had pushed him in, was there?”

“We did not know then that Peel’s two previous husbands had died suddenly. If Mrs Peel killed them, she might have disposed of the third, mightn’t she? But Barclay might have precipitated his death by a couple of hours if any toxic substance had worked faster than it was expected to, by falling into that tank. How long will a test take?”

“I’ll send a DNA sample to a toxicology lab for an independent report. I can do a blood test now. It would help if I knew what you have in mind, Cleo.”

“Poison is a woman’s weapon and Peel seems to fit the bill right now,” said Cleo. “If we have proof that Barclay was poisoned or drugged, we would have a good reason to reopen the cases on Peel’s other deceased husbands.”

“Any idea exactly what we are looking for?”

“Cyanide, Chris.”

“Wow! Not a slow death with arsenic this time, or an accidental one with that weird toadstool poison? Like to tell me how you decided on cyanide?”

“Not right now. It’s just a theory.”

“I’ll get on to it. Tell Gary not to be so sceptical and pig-headed.”

“I heard that,” Gary shouted into the handset.

“Oops, sorry. Were you eavesdropping?”

“You might want to call it that, Chris.”

“Need to know what your little woman is up to?” said Chris.

“My little woman is several steps ahead again, Chris. I just have to grin and bear it.”

“Cyanide,” said Chris. “Ask her about it.”

“I surfed the internet with astonishing results,” said Cleo as she massaged Gary’s shoulders. He was tensed up and rather fragile, she thought. TLC was needed.

“Are you sure you want to go to HQ?” she said.

“I should be there now,” Gary replied.

“Drink another coffee first.”

***

The phone rang and Cleo picked up the handset.

“Agnes Plimsoll here,” a cross voice said.

“I expect you want to talk about Charlie, don’t you?”  said Cleo. “She had such a good weekend playing hockey, Miss Plimsoll, and my husband enjoyed it all very much despite the violence. But I don’t envy you in such cold weather.”

Miss Plimsoll ignored the scarcely veiled criticism.

“Winter break starting today. But that’s not why I’m calling. This is much more serious. Can I talk to the Chief Inspector?”

“Aren’t I serious enough, Miss Plimsoll?”

“The inspector will know what to do.”

The inspector groaned as Cleo handed him the phone.

“I’ve been listening in, Miss Plimsoll,” Gary said. You might at least stop those girls going for shins, whatever the weather.”

“Never mind the hockey. That’s all part of self-defence education,” snorted Plimsoll.

“I never thought of hockey from that point of view,” said Gary. “Boxing, yes, but not hockey. So why are you phoning?”

“I’ve got a puncture.”

“Call a garage, Miss Plimsoll. I can’t help you on that.”

“I can help myself on that, young man, but I found something when I was getting the jack out of the boot.”

“Did you say jack?”

“Yes. I wanted to change the tyre.”

“Very laudable.”

“And when I opened the plastic case containing the jack, something else fell out.”

“What?”

“A weapon, Inspector.”

“A gun?”

“A little one. Black and shiny.”

“Did you touch it?”

“I looked at it in the plastic bag.”

“Did you touch it?”

“No.”

“What did you do then?”

“I took the jack out ready to change the tyre. And now I’m calling you and asking you to find out who put the gun in my car. I didn’t.”

“Could it have been your nephew?”

“I suppose so. Can you find out?”

“Not from the dead, Miss Plimsoll, but the gun may bear fingerprints. You’ll have to take the car and the gun to Headquarters and let the forensic scientists look at them.”

“Will they be there on a Saturday morning? I don’t want to go on a wild goose chase.”

“I’ll notify them. You’d better go there now.”

“If you insist.”

“I do, Miss Plimsoll.”

Agnes Plimsoll slammed the phone down on her side and Gary shook his head vigorously, mainly to get rid of Miss Plimsoll’s raucous shouts ringing in his ears.

****

“I’d better get to HQ now. That woman is awful, but at least she’s distracted me from myself.”

“I noticed,” said Cleo. “I just need to tell you about an idea triggered by something on the web.”

“No time now,” said Gary as he burst into action and left.

Cleo was astonished at his urgency.

She would, however, tell him what she had wanted to say before he suddenly decided to leave.

She wrote him a long text explaining:

‘While you were asleep early this morning. I asked myself how Peel could get away with killing those husbands without arousing suspicion. Whisky has a strong taste, but short of a poison that worked instantaneously and would be suspicious there wasn’t much she could put into Montague’s drink that would not be noticed. She had probably laced his whisky with sleeping pills before, so he would be used to the taste.’

On arrival at HQ, Gary read the message and phoned to apologize for leaving so fast.  Yes, course he valued her ideas so could she please explain what she had in mind.

Cleo pointed out that a lethal drink didn’t have to be alcohol. Fruit juice could be laced, too.”

 “I wished I’d paid more attention in the chemistry lessons,” said Gary. “I thought fruit was healthy.”

“Not if you grind fruit stones into your smoothie because the stones contain cyanide and some contain quite a lot of it.”

“So we should al lbe dead by now,” said Gary.

“If you swallow the stones whole they go through the gut and are passed out,” said Cleo.

“No need to go into detail,” said Gary.

“That’s nature, Gary.”

“In other words, if you laced a fruity drink with enough ground-up stones, it would be lethal.”

“Yes,” said Cleo. “That’s exactly it.”

“Amazing. Now we only have to find out what Peel gave her spouses to drink apart from whisky laced with sleeping pills,” said Gary, not able to avoid a trace of sarcasm. “How are we going to do that, for God’s sake?”

“Never mind God. You give Peel a really gorgeous fruit smoothie and test her by adding something that looks like ground stones.”

“That is such a mad idea, it might even work. I’ll watch from behind the one-way glass. Mia can give her the smoothie.”

“If I can’t make it ot HQ I’ll prepare one for you to take with you. Or make a better suggestion.”

“I can’t think of one.”

“I suppose I could organize the family for Monday and make fruit smoothies laced with poppy seeds. They are harmless in normal quantities, but look like ground something. Peel won’t touch the smoothie if she suspects poison, and that’s exactly how we want her to react. And I’d like to be there.”

“I can’t wait,” said Gary, realizing that Cleo was serious about  the idea.

***

Somehow, Gary got through the morning at HQ without having to talk to Peel, who had been put on hold till Monday.

“Did Plimsoll turn up at HQ?” she asked, when he arrived home bearing a large bunch of roses to make up for being in a bad mood earlier.

“Oh yes. Mad as a hatter because she had no idea how the gun got into her car boot. I think she expected Chris to know.”

“I’d find it all amusing if it wasn’t so dramatic. Poor Agnes Plimsoll.”

“She’s not quite the lamb her name declares her to be,” said Gary.

“Plimsoll?”

“Not the training shoes. Agnes. Mor or less Latin for Lamb.”

That name doesn’t fit Peel either. Strange. I’ve never known anyone with that name, and now I know two nasty females with it,” said Cleo-

“We’re small-talking again. Do you think that dead nephew left the gun in Plimsoll’s car?”

“He did not use it when they raided the bistro,” said Cleo. “He didn’t have time to forget it because he didn’t survive that exploit.”

“He may have had other plans for it.”

“No point in guesswork, Gary. The guy’s dead. We will probably never know what he planned unless Brian Crab can tell us.”

“I shouldn’t think a shoot-out was part of the plan to put the bistro out of action,” said Gary. “I had the impression that Crab wanted to do as little as possible for his fee and he never mentioned a gun.”

“I agree, but you’ll have to ask him about it.”

“I’ll get Nigel to ask him. And you could find out if Miss Plimsoll bought the car second-hand. You could ask her where she got it as you need a new used car – you know the routine. That gun might have been in there for years. I forgot to ask her if she’d dealt with the tyre, but she must have.”

“A day longer before you trace that gun, if ever, won’t make any difference since it wasn’t fired.”

“It might even have been licensed,” said Gary.

“I don’t think Toni will go to university. She’s in her element at that nursery,” said Cleo.

“I had an academic nature and ended up as a cop,” said Gary.

“Your stepfather disapproved, didn’t he?”

“In the end my mother stood up for me.”

“Grit respected your choice,” said Cleo as the cottage front door opened and Grit came in pushing Max and Mathilda in their twin buggy.

“What did I stand up for?” she said. “I’ve brought you a couple of children I found by the wayside.”

“Me,” said Gary, giving his mother a hug before gathering up the twins and giving them the eskimo greeting.

“Hell, they have cold noses.”

“Like healthy dogs,” said Grit. “We went for a walk. Toni took the boys and PeggySue next door for lunch and games. Joe says he needs to practise fatherhood.”

“Wow. He really has settled down here. You must be happy about that, Grit.”

“Delirious, Cleo. What have you two been doing?

“Do you really want to know?” said Gary.

“Not of it’s Dorothy’s hanky-panky.”

“Unfortunately we did not have time for that, Mother,” said Gary. “Want a coffee before lunch?”

“Nothing I’d like better.“

“After lunch I’ll drive to HQ again and,” Gary announced. WThe guys might need assistance.”

“Which guys?” Grit asked.

“Nigel,Chris,  Crab and Miss Plimsoll, to be exact,” Gary replied.

“I shouldn’t thin Miss Plimsoll would hand around for long.”

“She might have to if her whole care was being scrutinized.”

“I would not have suggested it, but that’s a better idea than just letting your assistants do all the work,” said Cleo.

“You’re right, but I’ll eat something first.”