Murder in Hampstead, Sabina Manea [best way to read ebooks .txt] 📗

what she was going to say. DCI Carliss watched her as he sipped his pint. Those piercing blue eyes could be very disconcerting, the way they scanned her face and didn’t look away. Lucia shook off an indelicate thought. ‘So you took my advice then?’

‘What advice would that be?’

‘You tried the Red Lion after you dropped me off at home the other day. After we left Beatrice Hall.’

‘I did. It’s a nice little boozer, this. Not snooty like the rest of the places around here.’ The policeman’s face stretched into a quizzical smile. ‘Feeling better now?’

‘Yes, I’m fine, thanks. Sorry for being such a weakling the other day. I don’t see many dead bodies in my line of work.’

He laughed. ‘No need to apologise. If it makes you feel better, it never gets any easier.’

Lucia brushed back a strand of hair and looked at the empty glasses in front of them. ‘Would you like another, Inspector?’

He hesitated for a moment. ‘Yes, why not? I’m not on duty tonight.’

Miraculously, Jez succeeded in producing two unscathed drinks. Lucia and DCI Carliss sat for a few moments in what was starting to be a rather companionable silence.

‘Have you interviewed everyone then?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Everyone who was at the party when Professor Kiseleva died. Have you taken statements from them?’

He patently knew what she meant and was trying to avoid talking about it.

‘Yes, obviously. But, as I said, I’m not on duty. I just want a quiet drink before I head home. And I’m not about to discuss confidential police business with you, if that’s what you’re getting at.’

Lucia turned over in her mind a fresh angle of attack. ‘Did you get the tin of poison from the kitchen?’

Carliss sat up very straight, as if she’d just slapped him hard across the face. ‘What the… How do you know about that?’

‘I’ve been in the house long enough to know where most things are kept – downstairs at least. Don’t look so appalled. It’s not like I’m stealing from them. But I can’t not notice what’s in front of me.’

‘So you rummaged around in the kitchen, did you? Fancy yourself as a bit of sleuth?’

She really had managed to step on his toes, she could see that quite plainly. ‘Well, you got there first, I’ll give you that.’ Lucia crossed her arms defiantly as she ploughed on. ‘Oh, come on, I’m not stupid. You took your time making that cup of sugary tea for me, didn’t you? Had a good snoop around?’

Despite his best efforts to keep up the stern face, the policeman was mollifying. Lucia smiled endearingly – the equivalent of a hand stretched out to the loser in a match. She wasn’t trying to be patronizing, but she sensed mutual agreement that she had scored a very good point.

‘Sodium fluoroacetate – 1080, as it’s commonly known,’ she continued. ‘Very nasty rat poison. Odourless, tasteless, soluble, no antidote. The symptoms appear to fit. With a large enough dose, you don’t stand much of a chance of pulling through. It tends to start with nausea and convulsions, around half an hour after ingestion. After that, you’ve got an unenviable choice of ends – heart or other organ failure, coma, or septicaemia. If you’re lucky, you’ll survive with severe brain damage. But I guess you know all this stuff already.’

Carliss sighed in apparent defeat. ‘Yes, I do. But before you jump to rash conclusions, it doesn’t mean a thing. So they kept rat poison in the kitchen – so what? Doesn’t mean the Professor died because she took it.’ He stopped himself before he could go any further and breathed in with fresh determination. ‘Look, this isn’t really on. I can’t talk about it in public. It’s a police matter. You need to get that in your head once and for all and drop this stupid little Miss Marple act. It’s not a game for a bored housewife.’

That kind of brush-off would have made most people lose their rag, but not Lucia. She was determined she wouldn’t take the bait. ‘For your information, I’m not a bored housewife. I’m not even married. Tell me something else, Inspector. When you spoke to the witnesses, did Mrs Byrne mention the row she had with Adam a few days before the party?’

From the policeman’s stony silence, Lucia inferred this was news to him. ‘No, I didn’t think so. I wonder what else they’re hiding, don’t you?’ she added.

She really did feel sorry for him now. He looked torn – on the one hand dying to find out what else she knew, and at the same time unwilling to get himself entangled into a highly suspect way of uncovering information. In the end, caution won. He downed the rest of his pint and stood up abruptly. ‘I think we’re done here, Miss Steer. Have a good evening.’ And with that, he turned on his heels and walked out without looking back.

Lucia scowled and took another sip of her wine. It hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. Nonetheless, she had a feeling that this wasn’t the last she’d hear of the matter. If all the police could come up with after a whole week was heart failure, there wasn’t much of a chance that the inspector could hack it on his own.

Chapter 6

Saturday, 19th September

(two weeks after the murder)

It was gone three in the afternoon. Just as the kettle had finished boiling, the shrill sound of the phone ringing on the kitchen table made Lucia jump. She didn’t recognize the number but picked it up anyway, involuntarily tense.

‘Detective Chief Inspector Carliss here. How’re you doing?’ The low, purring voice set her mind at rest. She’d half expected to be told that Mrs Byrne or Adam had keeled over. They both managed to look so despondent all the time.

‘I’m fine,