The Wounded Snake Read online

  ‘Melissa Standforth,’ the sergeant supplied. ‘Gavin Standforth’s wife.’

  Hilary started. This was news to her. Now that she came to think of it, there was no reason why Melissa and Gavin should not be a husband and wife team, working together on this course. But it had never occurred to her. She could not recall any look or gesture of affection between them that might have implied this. Rather the contrary.

  Hurriedly collecting her wits, she said, ‘Is she? I didn’t know. Anyway, she brought Dinah Halsgrove out into the private rose garden. I got the impression she’d just collected her from the station.’

  ‘And did you speak to Miss Halsgrove?’

  ‘Not really. Well, I believe I recommended the fruit cake, but she said she was diabetic. And, well, she did look rather tired. She’s over ninety, you know.’

  ‘Yes, we are aware of that fact. You said she refused the fruit cake. Did she partake of anything else?’

  Hilary thought. ‘Gavin brought her a cup of tea. I got the impression she was there more out of politeness than anything else. She seemed glad to get back to her room as soon as she decently could. I rather fancy Gavin wanted to show her off to us as his trophy speaker.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘The rest of us stayed on in the garden. It was a lovely afternoon.’

  ‘So the next time you saw her was when she spoke in the Great Barn?’

  ‘Y–yes.’ A memory was coming back to Hilary. ‘Yes … but …’

  The inspector leaned forward in a waiting silence, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘It’s probably nothing. But they wouldn’t let me into the Great Barn without my name badge. I had to dash back to the East Cloister to get it. We’ve got rooms on the top floor, my friend and I.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, I was rushing back down the stairs when I bumped into Melissa. I guessed Dinah Halsgrove must have a room on the first floor – that’s where they often put guest speakers. Probably Melissa was sleeping there too. It’s just – well, she gave a sort of hiss when I ran into her. Like a snake that’s been disturbed. I don’t think it was just the collision. That didn’t really amount to much. But she seemed angry to find me there, as though she hadn’t banked on there being anyone else around just then. I was in a hurry to get back to the Great Barn, so I didn’t think much about it at the time. But it’s kept coming back to me. And just now …’ The thoughts were tumbling through Hilary’s mind. ‘Well, if I’m right, Dinah Halsgrove’s room was just down the corridor.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Hilary finished lamely. ‘If she was looking after Dinah, she might have gone back to fetch something for her. It’s just … well, you seem to be looking for something out of the ordinary. Dinah Halsgrove appeared perfectly normal when she gave her talk in the Great Barn. Rather brilliant, in fact, and I’m not even going to say “for her age”. Brilliant, full stop. She didn’t come on the evening cruise with us, understandably, but Melissa was on the boat, serving drinks. I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill. And it wasn’t her in the tiltyard this morning.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  Hilary was aware that her words were racing ahead of her ordered thoughts. ‘I’d better leave my friend Veronica to tell you about that. All I know is hearsay. I wasn’t there. But that was Theresa and Gavin, not Melissa. So that’s all I can give you, I’m afraid. A brief encounter on the landing. Somebody acting like the guilty party. Everybody else was in the Great Barn. Why wasn’t she?’

  A stray thought crossed her mind. She had not been the only latecomer to the Great Barn.

  ‘As you say yourself, Miss Halsgrove could have sent Mrs Standforth on an errand.’

  ‘I suppose so. You’ll have to ask her. She really is still alive? Dinah Halsgrove, I mean.’

  ‘Still in hospital. She’s not out of the wood yet,’ DS Blunt supplied.

  ‘But they’ve found something that makes them think it was not a stroke or a heart attack, or even a normal case of food poisoning?’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Masters. You’ve been very helpful. By the sound of it, I think we need to talk to your friend next.’

  Hilary felt herself dismissed. She stood up.

  ‘You may go and get your lunch now. My apologies for needing to delay you.’

  At least the chef’s kitchen had been given a clean bill of health, Hilary reflected, as she crossed the lawn to the Chapter House restaurant.

  She stopped as a sudden thought struck her. She had forgotten to tell the inspector about Melissa’s appearance at her bedroom door last night.

  How much did that matter?

  ELEVEN

  She entered the lofty medieval Chapter House, which served as both bar and dining room. The assembled writers lifted their heads from their plates. Conversations stilled. Faces bore an air of nervous anticipation. Hilary felt she should be holding a scroll, about to read out some proclamation. But when they saw it was only another of their own number returned from questioning, they turned back. The chatter resumed.

  Hilary made her way under the high vaulted roof to a half-empty table. Many of the earlier diners had already gone. Her spirits lifted a little to find a place beside the sharp-witted Jo Walters, the one who had expressed a desire to emulate the Scandinavian crime noir novelists. Her older husband Harry was unlikely to contribute sparkling conversation, but Hilary would have to put up with that. She wondered what he had done with himself this morning, while the others wrote. He hadn’t come back to the session after coffee.

  He waved his fork towards the far end of the room. ‘Buffet lunch today. Go and help yourself. I must say, they feed you well here. I’m jolly glad they’ve given the kitchen the all clear.’

  Hilary got up and picked her way along the line of pies, cold meats and salads. She realized she was ravenously hungry.

  The same lugubrious, middle-aged waiter who had served them at breakfast now stood behind the food tables, offering to help her.

  ‘You people are a lot of trouble,’ he told her, delivering a slice of duck and orange pie to her plate.

  ‘I’m sorry. Yes, I suppose we must be holding you up, coming into lunch in dribs and drabs like this.’

  ‘You never saw such a morning in the kitchen. Everything to be inspected and scrubbed down. As if we didn’t already have a five-star certificate for food hygiene.’

  ‘Yes, it must have been very trying. Tell Chef from me he’s done a splendid job. I can’t wait to get my teeth into this lot.’

  She took the excuse to steer her loaded plate away to the dining table before he could launch into further complaints.

  ‘So? Any theories?’ Jo Walters turned an eager face to her. ‘What did the CID want to hear?’

  Like Ben in the Toad group, Jo’s mood was not as sober as the near-death of an iconic writer might suggest. Hilary wondered whether she had made the wrong choice of lunch companion.

  She answered Jo shortly. ‘Just what you’d expect. What I could remember about yesterday afternoon and whether I’d seen anything suspicious around Dinah Halsgrove.’

  ‘So there is something mysterious wrong with her. Well, there’d have to be, to bring in the CID. And had you?’

  The directness of the question shook Hilary. For a moment, she wondered whether she should come clean and divulge that slight, but oddly disturbing, encounter with Melissa in the bedroom corridor. On balance, she decided she had better keep it to herself. And she certainly was not going to make the conversation Veronica had overheard public knowledge.

  Even now, a chill sweat was beginning to break out on her skin. Could Theresa have caught that murmured exchange of panic between Veronica and Hilary, as the time for her to read her morning’s work drew closer? Hilary did not think so, but she could not be sure. If that conversation between Gavin and Theresa meant what it appeared to, how much danger would that put Veronica in? Was it really possible that the workshop organizers themselves had made an attempt on the life of their famo
us guest? Not a hoax, but something that could have been genuinely lethal?

  The food on her plate suddenly seemed less appetizing.

  ‘Well? Had you seen anything suspicious?’ Jo’s voice demanded.

  ‘Oh, sorry! No, I was in the Great Barn, sitting in the gallery beside you, if you remember, and then off on the boat like everyone else.’

  Jo frowned, a forkful of watercress held suspended halfway to her mouth. ‘We were all there, weren’t we, as far as I know. It was only Theresa who was left behind to take care of Dinah.’

  ‘It was Melissa who fetched her from the station and was chaperoning her in the tea garden.’

  She could not get rid of the memory of that unsettling encounter in the East Cloister.

  ‘The thing is, if she was poisoned, we know now that the poison didn’t come from the restaurant – and I think we’re all assuming it was poison, aren’t we, otherwise what’s the point of all this questioning?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Then somebody must have introduced it into Dinah Halsgrove’s supper, either on the tray that was brought to her, or in something else in the room.’

  ‘Like the hospitality trays they leave out for us, you mean? Difficult, though. They used to give you little jugs of fresh milk. But even Morland Abbey has gone over to tubs of UHT nowadays. And the coffee and tea are in sealed packets. You’d have a job to mix anything into them.’

  ‘A jug of water, perhaps? Whoever did it would have to have access to Dinah’s room. Then they could have nipped in afterwards and washed the jug out.’

  ‘She’ll have had a key to her room. The question is, did she lock it?’

  ‘If she was expecting someone to bring her supper, probably not.’

  Hilary frowned. ‘But surely whoever did this – and I’m inclined to agree with you about the source of the poison – they’d need a time when the room was empty, wouldn’t they?’

  ‘Not necessarily. Of course, it could have been while Dinah was talking in the Great Barn. But, on the other hand, if someone brought you a jug of iced water, for instance, you wouldn’t think it suspicious, would you? Theresa has to be the prime suspect.’

  ‘Is there a poison you can dissolve completely in water?’

  ‘You’d have to ask our queen of crime novelists. We’re all dying to know just what she did take to make her so ill. But the police are hardly likely to tell us.’

  ‘But who would want to do such a thing, and why?’ Jo’s innocent eyes grew round.

  ‘Not only that, but why here?’ Hilary mused.

  ‘It’s not looking good for Gavin and his crew, is it? They’re the only ones who stood to gain from the death of a famous novelist at a crime event they’d organized. Front-page headlines.’

  ‘You think Gavin’s behind it?’

  ‘Don’t be so naïve, Hilary.’ The use of her first name startled her for a moment, until she remembered the name badge she was wearing. Or had Jo Walters recalled it from that introduction in the garden? ‘How much do you actually hear about Gavin Standforth these days? Oh, I know he had that one bestseller. If it hadn’t been for that, no one would even know his name.’ There was a strangely bitter edge to Jo’s voice. ‘He’s traded on that to sell his backlist, but he’s hardly mega famous, not like Dinah Halsgrove. Now, if Dinah had died, half the world would have got to hear about that. From Gavin’s point of view, there’s no such thing as negative publicity. You know how you’re browsing through a bookshop, looking for something to buy, and a name leaps out at you. The very fact that you’ve heard it somewhere makes you feel more positive about buying their book, rather than an author you’ve never heard of. You may not remember what you heard.’

  ‘Hmm. You think he’d really go that far?’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Again that curious coldness in her voice.

  Hilary was spared the necessity of answering by the arrival of Veronica. The taller woman’s cheeks were flushed a bright pink. She looked scared.

  Veronica took the seat next to Hilary. She rested her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands.

  ‘I don’t know what I’ve done,’ she whispered.

  Hilary was aware of the rest of their table eyeing her friend with avid curiosity. Gavin, Theresa and Melissa were watching from their own table.

  ‘What’s up, love?’ asked Harry Walters. ‘Did they give you a hard time?’

  The implications of this were not lost on the others. Heads now turned in his direction. Was he accusing Veronica of complicity in last night’s near-tragedy?

  ‘Harry!’ his wife Jo reprimanded him sharply.

  Hilary took charge of the situation. She seized Veronica under the arm and yanked her to her feet, none too gently.

  ‘You need food. All this fuss on an empty stomach.’

  She steered Veronica towards the buffet.

  ‘I’m not hungry, really,’ Veronica protested in a low voice. ‘It’s just that … well, I’ve practically accused Gavin and Theresa of attempted murder, haven’t I?’

  Hilary shot a look sideways to gauge whether either of the leaders, or indeed anyone else, could have heard her. Satisfied that the space between them and the dining tables was wide enough, she lowered her own voice.

  ‘You told the truth. That’s all any of us can do. What it means – if it does mean anything at all – is up to the inspector and his sidekick. For what it’s worth, I’ve pointed the finger of suspicion at Melissa too, and on a lot shakier evidence. Here, I can recommend the duck pie. Come to think of it, I might just take a second helping.’

  The spoon in Veronica’s hand rattled against the salad bowl. The waiter helped them both to slices of pie in an injured silence. The first-comers had mostly left the dining room. The last three members of the Toad group – Dan Truscott, Lin Bell and Jake – had not yet appeared.

  Did any of the others have significant information to give? Hilary wondered. Was it only the two of them?

  ‘Try not to draw attention to yourself,’ she warned Veronica. ‘You did what you had to do. Put it behind you. The last thing we want is for Gavin or Theresa to start suspecting you know something.’

  ‘I rather gave that away at the dining table, didn’t I? I hope neither of them heard me.’

  Her hand still trembled. Hilary righted her plate for her.

  ‘I don’t suppose those who did will think much of it. We’re all pretty much on edge. We came here for a fun weekend, and now it’s got serious. There’s nothing like being questioned by the police for making you feel guilty, even if you haven’t done a thing.’

  ‘Are you sure? OK. I’ll try to get a grip on myself. I wish Andrew …’

  It was less than two years since Veronica had been widowed. Hilary let the name die away into the chatter of the surrounding tables.

  ‘I know. I’m lucky to have David. Which reminds me, I haven’t brought him up to date with what just happened last night. When I last spoke to him, I was still at the stage of telling him what a wonderful talk Dinah Halsgrove gave, and how she’d been taken ill afterwards. Nothing about the police. I can’t believe everything that’s happened since.’

  ‘I could talk to my children. But it’s not the same, is it?’

  As they made their way back to their table, a younger waiter emerged from the kitchen. His long grey apron was wrapped sleekly over his black shirt and trousers. He held a tray of food shoulder high as he disappeared through the outer door.

  Of course. It would not have been Theresa who had carried Dinah Halsgrove’s supper along the cloisters and up the stairs. It would have been one of Morland Abbey’s staff. This one? But what interest could someone like him have had in poisoning her?

  She shook her head.

  ‘One word of caution,’ she warned Veronica as they approached their seats. ‘Be careful what you say in front of Jo Walters. Her husband may be a bit of a twit, but she’s sharp as a razor. She slapped him down when he seemed to be implying that you might be under suspicion. But it w
on’t have gone unnoticed. She’s storing it all away under those vacuous-looking blonde curls.’

  It was Veronica who took the initiative as she picked at the food on her plate. She turned to her table companions with a falsely bright smile.

  ‘Well, then. The rest of you have still got your interviews to come. Is anybody here harbouring vital information?’

  Hilary could see them all questioning themselves. Did one or two of them flush? Or was that just the good food and wine or beer? Whatever they did or did not know, they were clearly not going to share it with anyone except the CID.

  Gavin stumbled through the afternoon session. It was probably a teaching exercise he had done many times before. He could manage the mechanics of it, but his heart wasn’t in it. He gave a visible start every time the policewoman summoned someone else from the groups for interview.

  ‘I’m beginning to think he can’t be guilty,’ Hilary muttered to Veronica. ‘If he was, he’d surely make a better fist of pretending to look innocent.’

  ‘Something’s upset him, though,’ Veronica whispered back. ‘It can’t just be the shock of Dinah Halsgrove falling ill and then the police being called in. He’s had time to adjust to that.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘Melissa looks inscrutable. I can’t tell if she’s upset or not.’

  ‘Gavin said she was highly strung. I’m beginning to wonder whether he meant mentally ill.’

  Hilary looked up and saw Theresa watching them.

  She bent her attention to her notepad again. In spite of everything, the pages were filling up satisfactorily with ideas that were not at all bad.

  Gavin had encouraged them to put flesh on the bones of any character they might have envisaged in their chosen setting.

  ‘Think of someone you actually know. It helps to add those little extra quirks and physical details which it’s hard to imagine from cold. How do they speak? How do they move? What is it that makes this person distinctly them?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Lin Bell, her back straight, her eyes bright behind their glasses, ‘about the ethics of putting someone I know, perhaps a good friend, in the role of the villain. A murderer, in this case.’