The Sins Of The Wolf Part 13

Crawford seized a pen and paper and wrote furiously for several moments, then pa.s.sed the paper across to Monk.

"There you are, young man. That is the precise prescription, which ye'll not be able to fill, because I've no signed it. And that is the name and address of the apothecary who made it up usually. I daresay they always had the same one.

"Is it unusual for a double dose of medicinal strength to be fatal?"

"Aye, there's very little in it. It must be measured exact." He held up his finger and thumb to show a hair's breadth between them. "That's why it's put in a suspension in gla.s.s vials. One vial per dose. Can't make a mistake."

Monk considered trying to elicit a little information from him about the other members of the family, and judged it would be pointless.

Crawford watched him with guarded eyes, full of both suspicion and amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Thank you," Monk said curtly, folding the slip of paper and putting it into his waistcoat pocket. "I'll call upon Mr. Landis."

"Have not known him make a mistake," Crawford said cheerfully. "And never known an apothecary who admitted to one either." He laughed with genuine amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Nor I," Monk conceded. "But someone either put two doses into one, or subst.i.tuted a lethal dose for a medicinal one. He may be able to tell me something of use."

"Why wouldn't they simply have given her two of the usual doses?" Crawford said argumentatively.

"They could have." Monk smiled back. "Was she the sort of woman who would have taken two? I a.s.sume you did warn her that two would be lethal?"

The amus.e.m.e.nt vanished from Crawford's eyes.

"O' course I did!" he said. "Are you accusing me of incompetence?"

Monk looked at him with undisguised satisfaction. "I'm trying to learn if it was likely Mrs. Farraline would have taken two doses, rather than one that had been tampered with."

"Aye, well now you know! Go and see Mr. Landis. He'll no doubt tell you how it could be done. Good day to you, sir."

"Well, you could distill it." Landis screwed up his face thoughtfully. "Reduce the liquid till it was the same amount as a single dose. But you'd have to have the right equipment for that, or something that would serve. Hardly use the kitchen while the cook was busy. Be noticed. Too chancy. Not the sort of thing to have to do on the spur of the moment."

"What else?" Monk asked. "How would you do it?"

Landis looked at him sideways. "On the spur of the moment? That's hard to say. Don't think I would. I'd wait a bit until I had a better idea. Has to be instant though, doesn't it!"

"She was only there one day."

"Buy some digitalis and subst.i.tute a double-strength dose for the ordinary one. Are you sure she didn't carry digitalis with her? Woman was a nurse, wasn't she? Perhaps she had some already, against an emergency-no, that won't do. Doctor, perhaps, not a nurse. Stole it?"

"What for?"

"Ah, there you have me; unless she was waiting for a chance like this? That'd make her a cold-blooded woman all right." Landis pulled a face. "Mind, that's possible. Had a nasty poisoning with digitalis a few months ago here in Edinburgh. Man poisoned his wife. Ugly case. Terrible woman, tongue like a viper, but doesn't excuse poisoning her, of course. Would have got away with it too, if he'd just given her a little less. Not easy to trace, digitalis. Looks like ordinary heart failure, if you get the amount exactly right. The poor devil overdid it. Made them suspicious."

"I see. Thank you."

"Not been much use, have I? Sorry."

"I suppose you didn't sell any digitalis that day to a woman who could answer her description?" Monk asked, feeling suddenly a little sick. Of course Hester had not bought it, but what if someone like her had? "A little taller than average, thin, square shoulders, brown hair, intelligent face, rather strong, p.r.o.nounced features, but a very good mouth."

"No," Landis said with certainty.

"You are quite sure? You could swear to it?"

"With no trouble at all. Didn't sell any that day to anyone."

"What about that week, to anyone else in the Farraline household?"

"No, not to anyone except Dr. Mangold and to old Mr. Watkins. Known them both for years. Nothing to do with the Farralines."

"Thank you," Monk said with sudden enthusiasm. "Thank you very much. Now, sir, can you tell me the names and whereabouts of all the other apothecaries within reasonable radius of Ainslie Place?"

"Of course I can," Landis agreed with a frown of puzzlement. He reached for a paper and wrote down several lines of information, then gave them to Monk, wishing him luck.

Monk thanked him profusely and strode out, leaving the door swinging on its hinges.

He received in essence the same answer from every other shop he tried. No one recognized his description of Hester, and none of them had sold digitalis to any member of the Farraline household, or indeed to anyone not known to them personally.

He pursued the other sources of information, the public house, the street peddlers and crossing sweepers, the errand and delivery boys and the news vendors, but all he learned was very general gossip that seemed to serve no purpose. The Farralines were extremely well thought of, and had long been generous to the city and the various worthy causes. Hamish had been ill for some time before his death eight years before, but his reputation was high without being unnatural. Hector was spoken of with tolerance and a pity for Mary, while respecting her that she gave him a home. Indeed, she seemed to be respected for just about everything she did, and more essentially for what she was, a lady of dignity, character and judgment.

Alastair also was held in both respect and something amounting to awe. He held high office and wielded considerable power. That he did it discreetly was to his credit. He had conducted himself with dignity during the recent case involving a Mr. John Galbraith, who had been accused of defrauding investors out of a very great deal of money, but the issue was very clouded. Those bringing the charge were of a very dubious honor. The evidence was tainted. The Fiscal had had the courage to throw the case out.

The rest was just gossip of the most ordinary sort. Quinlan Fyffe was very clever, an incomer from Stirling, or perhaps it was Dundee. Not yet a popular man. McIvor, for all his name, was English. Pity Miss Oonagh had not seen fit to marry an Edinburgh man. Miss Deirdra was very extravagant, so it was said, always getting new dresses, but absolutely no taste at all. Miss Eilish stayed in bed till all hours of the day. She might be the most beautiful woman in Scotland; she was also the laziest.

It was all quite useless, and not even very interesting. Monk thanked the various sources and gave up.

Sunday luncheon at Ainslie Place was a less formal affair than dinner had been. Monk arrived just as the family was returning from the high kirk, all dressed in black. The women were in huge skirts like upturned bells, fur-trimmed capes hugged about them and black-ribboned bonnets narrowing vision and protecting the face from the splattering rain. The men wore tall hats and black overcoats, Alastair's with an astrakhan collar. They walked in pairs, side by side, unspeaking until they were in the hall, Monk immediately behind them. The funereal McTeer took their coats and welcomed them. He also took Alastair's hat and stick, leaving Baird, Quinlan and Kenneth to place their own in the stand or the rack appropriately.

"Good day, Mr. Monk," he said grimly, taking Monk's hat and coat. Monk had never carried a stick since the Grey case. "A verra cold day, sir, and bound to get worse. It'll be a hard winter, I'm thinking."

"Thank you," Monk acknowledged. "Good afternoon," he said, inclining his head to each member of the family. Alastair looked pinched with cold, but Deirdra's warm coloring made her vividly alive, and if she were grieving, it did not mar her vitality. Oonagh was pale, but as previously, her resolve of character more than compensated for any turmoil or misgivings within.

Eilish had obviously made the effort to get up in time to accompany the family to kirk, and nothing could dim her beauty.

The errant Kenneth was also present, an agreeable but ordinary young man with sufficient resemblance to mark him as one of the family. He seemed to be in something of a hurry, and as soon as he was relieved of his outdoor clothing, he nodded to Monk, then disappeared towards the withdrawing room.

"Do come in, Mr. Monk," Oonagh said with a curious, direct smile. "Warm yourself by the fire and perhaps take a little wine. Or maybe you would prefer whiskey?"

Monk disliked declining her invitation, but he could not afford to have his wits dulled.

"Thank you," he said. "The fire sounds excellent, and wine too, if everyone else is also partaking? It is a little early for me to enjoy whiskey." He followed where she led into the same large withdrawing room as on the first occasion. The fire was roaring in the grate with a hiss and crackle that promised heat even before he glanced at its yellow blaze. He also found himself smiling without intending to.

As each person came into the room, unconsciously he or she moved closer to the fire, the women sitting in the large chairs, the men standing. One of the footmen served goblets of mulled wine from a silver tray.

Alastair looked across the top of his at Monk.

"Are you having any success with your inquiries, Mr. Monk?" he asked with a frown. "Although I don't know what it is you think you can discover. Surely the police will do all that is necessary?"

"Pitfalls, Mr. Farraline," Monk replied easily. "We don't want the case dismissed because we have been overconfident and careless."

"No-no indeed. That would be disastrous. Well, please make any inquiries you wish of the servants." He glanced at Oonagh.

"I have already instructed them," she said gently, turning from Alastair to Monk. "They are to answer you fully and frankly." She bit her lip as if considering an apology of some sort, but then deciding against it. "You will have to excuse a little nervousness on their part." She regarded him gravely, searching his face for understanding, her eyes widening a fraction when she perceived it. "They are all anxious to excuse themselves from carelessness. Naturally each of them feels that in some way they should have been able to prevent what happened."

"That's absurd," Baird said abruptly. "If anyone is to blame, we are. We hired Miss Latterly. We spoke to her and we thought she was an excellent person. It wasn't up to the servants to argue with us." He looked acutely unhappy.

"We have already had this conversation," Alastair said with irritation. "No one could have known."

"Oh yes." Quinlan shot a look at Monk. "You asked us what we thought had happened. I don't recall that anyone ever answered you, did they?"

"Not yet," Monk conceded, his eyes wide. "Perhaps you would begin, Mr. Fyffe?"

"I? Well, let me see." Quinlan sipped his wine, his eyes thoughtful, but if there was distress in him, it was well masked. "The wretched woman would not have killed poor Mother-in-law unless she had already seen the brooch, so that must have happened fairly early on...."

Deirdra winced and Eilish set down her gla.s.s, untasted.

"I don't know what you hope to gain with this," Kenneth said angrily. "It is an appalling conversation!"

"Appalling or not, we have to know what happened," Quinlan said viciously. "There's no point pretending it will go away decently just because we don't like it."

"For G.o.d's sake, we do know what happened!" Kenneth's voice rose also. "The d.a.m.ned nurse murdered Mother! What else do we have to know-isn't that enough? Do you want every jot and t.i.ttle of the details? I certainly don't."

"The law will want it," Alastair said icily. "They won't hang the woman without absolute proof. Nor should they. We must be sure, beyond any doubt at all."

"Who doubts it?" Kenneth demanded. "I don't."

"Do you know something that the rest of us do not?" Monk asked, his voice polite, his eyes glittering.

Kenneth stared at him, frustration, self-justification and resentment flaring in his face.

"Well, do you?" Alastair demanded.

"Of course he doesn't, my dear," Oonagh said soothingly. "He just hates thinking of the details."

"Does he imagine the rest of us enjoy it?" Alastair's voice rose suddenly and for the first time his composure seemed in danger of slipping. "For G.o.d's sake, Kenneth, either say something useful or hold your tongue."

Oonagh moved a little closer to him and put her hand lightly on his arm.

"Actually, Quin has made a point," Deirdra said with her face screwed up in concentration. She did not appear to have noticed Alastair's distress. "Miss Latterly must have seen the brooch before she decided to give Mother-in-law a double dose of medicine...." She avoided using the word poison. poison. "And since Mother-in-law was not wearing it, then either she saw it in her case, which does not make a lot of sense-" "And since Mother-in-law was not wearing it, then either she saw it in her case, which does not make a lot of sense-"

"Why not?" Alastair said tersely.

There was no anger in Deirdra's face, only deep thought. "How could she? Did she look all through Mother's case at some time when she was supposed to be resting? And then mix the medicine at the same time?"

"I don't know why you say that." Alastair looked at her irritably, but already there was a quickening in his expression belying his words.

All heads turned from Alastair to Deirdra.

"Well, she couldn't mix it in front of her," Deirdra said quickly. "And she couldn't give her two doses. Mother would not have taken them."

Monk smiled with the first real satisfaction he had felt since Rathbone had broken the news.

"You have an excellent point, Mrs. Farraline. Your mother-in-law would not have taken the double dose."

"But she did," Alastair said with a frown. "The police informed us of that, the day before you arrived. That is precisely what happened."

Oonagh looked very pale, a flicker of tension between her brows. She turned from Alastair to Monk without speaking, waiting for him to explain.

Monk chose his words with intense care. Could this be the key to it all? He refused to hope, but still he found his body rigid, muscles aching.

"Was Mrs. Farraline sufficiently forgetful that she might either have accepted two doses of her medicine or have taken one herself and then allowed Miss Latterly to have given her another?" He remembered Crawford's dismissal of such an idea and he knew what the answer would be.

Oonagh opened her mouth, but in the minute's hesitation before she spoke, Eilish interrupted.

"No, certainly not. I don't know what the answer is, but it is not that."

Baird was very pale. He looked at Eilish with something so fierce in his eyes it seemed to be agony, even though it was apparently Monk to whom he was speaking.

"Then the answer must be that Miss Latterly saw the brooch in the house, before it was packed, and decided then on her plan. She must have doubled the dose before she left."

"How?" Deirdra asked.

"I don't know." He was not disconcerted. "She was a nurse, after all. Presumably she knew how to make some medicines as well as give them. Any fool can pa.s.s out a vial or present it to someone."

"Make it out of what?" Monk asked with a.s.sumed innocence. "The ingredients would hardly be lying about the house."

"Of course not," Deirdra agreed, looking from one to another of them, her face puckered. "It doesn't make sense, does it. I mean, it doesn't sound remotely likely. She was only here for one day...less than that. Did she go out, does anyone know? Mr. Monk?"

"I a.s.sume you have questioned the local apothecaries?" Quinlan asked.

"Yes, and none has sold digitalis that day to any woman answering Miss Latterly's description," Monk replied. "Or indeed to anyone else not already known to him personally."

"How confusing," Quinlan said without any apparent unhappiness.

Monk felt himself beginning to hope. He had the essence of doubt already.

"I think you are missing the point," Oonagh said very gently. "The brooch will have been packed in Mother's traveling jewel case, which was in the carriage with them. And of course Mother had the key. Miss Latterly saw it when she was preparing the medicine, or perhaps she looked through it out of curiosity when Mother may have alighted at the station to use the convenience. There would be plenty of opportunities during a long evening."

"But the digitalis," Baird argued. "Where did she get that? She didn't find that in a railway station."

"Presumably she carried it with her," Oonagh replied with a tiny smile. "She was a nurse. We have no idea what she had in her case."

"On the chance of having someone to poison?" Monk said incredulously.

Oonagh looked at him with amus.e.m.e.nt and something like patience.

"Possibly, Mr. Monk. It does seem the most likely explanation. You yourself have pointed out that the other ways and means that we a.s.sumed were, after all, not possible. What else is left?"

Monk felt as if the fire had died. The light and the warmth faded all around him. It had been stupid to hope for anything so easy, and yet in spite of all intelligence, he had hoped. He realized it now with anger and self-criticism.