Murder in Oils 23, weekend bonus and final chapter

 

Chapter 23

 

 

The inquest on Gloria Wandsworth was arranged mercifully fast.  A lawyer from Oxford was sent out to handle it, and Simon Armitage brought David up for the day, as he was required to attend.

The coroner, an acidulated man named Theodosius Montague Ffoulkson, who looked as if he had grown into his name, banged his gavel.

“Opening the inquest into the death of Gloria Tryphema Wandsworth, spinster of this parish, occupation, housekeeper.  I understand that her identification has been confirmed by her dental records?”

Dr. Craiggie stood.

“I have received her dental records from the dentist in London whom she saw, who is also dentist to the Henderson family.”

Ffoulkson glared over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

“And what makes this dentist too fancy to attend?” he demanded.

“He did not think he had to be bothered with some servant indulged by one of his customers, sir,” said Craiggie, dryly. “I have some experience with dentistry, however, and can confirm the match of the tooth-chart to that of the teeth in the, er, head.  Dr. Hammond, the police surgeon confirmed this.”

Ffoulkson grunted.

“You should have been sworn in first,” he said. Dr. Craiggie raised his hand, touching the Bible, and made his oath.

“And I swear that what I have said is true,” he said.

“Describe the condition of the deceased,” Ffoulkson said.

“The deceased was a woman in her late twenties, well-developed in life, but in death, her condition somewhat marred by the extreme charring over her whole body from extreme heat.”

“Is it your professional opinion that she died by fire, or was dead before she was burned?” asked the Coroner.

“Her hand was clamped onto a ladder by cadaveric spasm,” said Craiggie, sweating at the memory, a body so badly burned being outside his usual experience. “It is my opinion, with which Dr. Hammond concurs, that she could not have been introduced to that position on the ladder without having gone there in life, and succumbing to cadaveric spasm as a result of the sudden heat-storm engendered by the explosion which occurred.”

“We have not established the existence of an explosion,” said Ffoulkson.

“With due respect, your honour, the explosion was witnessed by the other inhabitants of Foursquares, and the Bicester fire brigade,” said Craiggie, with some asperity. “It is for the home office specialist to establish the reason for the explosion, but not its existence.”

“Oh, boy, that’s all we need, someone who needs proof the sun rises in the east,” muttered Harris.

“Shh,” said Alexander as the dried-up lawyer glared in their direction. Alexander thought he looked like a lizard.

“Call Mr. Henderson,” said Ffoulkson.

David went to the stand, dead white and took his oath.

“What was Miss Wandsworth to you and in your household?” asked Ffoulkson.

“A damned viper in the nest!” said David.

He was stared at over the half-moon glasses.

“Pray confine your answers to the relevant,” said Ffoulkson.

David flushed.

“With due respect, that is relevant,” he said. “I gave her the job as housekeeper, because my wife asked for it, for someone she believed was her friend.  As the bloody woman was using my basement for illicit purposes, she was a viper in the nest having struck up a friendship with my wife purely to use Helen’s well-know kindness and sympathy to worm her way in. I don’t care if she managed to blow herself up, I am merely outraged that she deliberately fired my house first, and then used my house to blow herself up, leaving me and my dependents homeless, after having murdered my wife and my brother.”

“That’s a serious accusation.”

“Well, you ask Inspector Armitage about it; are you done with me?”

“Not quite, Mr. Henderson; I understand that the ladder she was on from the basement led to some kind of fire exit?”

“If you wish to put it that way; an emergency access,” said David.

“These doors were not normally kept locked?”

David flushed.

“No, I had not thought of it until Armitage pointed out how easy it would be to burgle the house or kill us in our beds.”

“So you locked them that night?”

“Not me, sir, I went to bed with two sleeping pills after that bloody woman cut up the portrait of my wife, because I refused to consider marrying her. My Helen isn’t even cold in the ground! And she... she....”

He fainted.

“Now look what you’ve done,” said Simon. “As sometime coroner myself, Mr. Ffoulkson, I must say you are treating Mr. Henderson as a hostile witness, when all you needed to establish was that the Wandsworth woman lived as housekeeper in his house and utilised a basement room ostensibly as a still room, and actually for less benign chemical activities.”

“And you are, Mr...?” asked Ffoulkson.

“Sir Simon Armitage, baronet,” said Simon. “Friend of the family. And yes, I saw the laboratory before it was blown up, with my son, Inspector Armitage, and we took photos for the home office. The use that it was put to was iniquitous but also is sub judice and cannot be more than touched on so as not to prejudice the trials of Wandsworth’s associates.”

“I need to ascertain that Mr. Henderson had no idea what was occurring in his basement,” said Ffoulkson.

“No, I bloody didn’t,” said David, who had come to. “Now you are done with me, you fatuous little twaddlemonger.”

“As Mr. Henderson’s council, I concur,” said Simon. “And it’s no good glaring at me, nor in finding a way to take it out on my son; who acted as a private person in concern for his proposed brother-in-law, as any man is allowed to do.”

“Call Alexander Armitage,” said Ffoulkson, sourly, who had been directed by the chief constable to exonerate the inspector.

Alexander took his oath.

“You were living in the household known as ‘Foursquares’ at the time of the incident?”

“If you mean the incident which led to the death of Wandsworth, yes,” said Alexander. “I was not living there at the time of her murder of Basil and Helen Henderson, but as Basil was a friend of mine, he knew I was a person to contact.”

He had to be careful here, being under oath; but he had not said that Basil wrote to him.

“We are not here to establish the guilt or otherwise of Miss Wansworth in the matter of murder,” said Ffoulkson, severely, glaring over his glasses.

“With all due respect, it has some bearing on the case,” said Alexander. “The deceased was, and I can bring evidence to bear on this, refining drugs in the basement of Foursquares, given over to her use, as a botanist, who had studied two years of chemistry at Oxford, for making simple cough cures, and the medicinal tobacco Basil Henderson used to help counteract the effects of the laudanum he used for pain relief, he being a war hero. Wandsworth inserted herself into the household, as a result of Mr. Henderson’s boasts about his hygienic house, its air ducts into the sewers of household smells, fresh air rotation, and escape exits. I can show that she arranged to have Henderson’s intelligent and nosy sister addicted to drugs to keep her out of the way, and treated as an imbecile after the girl, my fiancée, went through drug withdrawal essentially alone.  I can show that she was aware that Basil Henderson was suspicious of her, and she decided that if she was going to kill him, she should also kill Helen, her benefactress, believing, erroneously, like half the fools in the village that David Henderson had no tender feelings towards his wife, and anticipating moving in on him as soon as the funeral was over. It was a serious error of judgement, and Basil left a painting to accuse her. At which point, she tried to lay it on thick to David Henderson, and being both a man grieving deeply, and a man inclined to be rather volatile, he sacked her. Which being so, I believe she made up her mind to simultaneously make an attempt on David Henderson’s life, my life for being instrumental in opening his eyes, and to destroy all evidence of her drug manufacture at the same time. I believe the expert will show that the fire was set with petrol, something Miss Truckle smelled, and that the explosion in the laboratory was set up badly, and she caused a fire preventing her egress by the door, and so headed for the emergency door.”

“Which was jammed or locked.”

“Yes, by me,” said Alexander. “I had just put David to bed with a sleeping pill, and I was afraid she would come to his bedroom by one of the emergency exits, from the outside, so I jammed them all. However, she could have climbed to the upper floor, and risked being confronted by Miss Truckle, in whose bathroom the stair ended. I suspect she hoped the explosion would unjam the door, forgetting that most of its force would vent via the air vents to outside and into the sewers. I acted to keep my intended brother-in-law safe from a woman whose insane frenzy had slashed the painting of Helen into ribbons. I’d do the same thing again. Nobody asked her to burn us in our own beds or blow up her laboratory.  I thought she might spend the night pouring away chemicals down the drains, and hiding all evidence of her occupancy and occupation, but it never occurred to me she’d be fool enough to blow such volatile chemicals up.”

“Well!” said Ffoulkson.

“I’d lock any external door at night, to be honest,” said Alexander. “Don’t you?”

“I ask the questions,” said Ffoulkson. He paused. “It is the act of a reasonable man. How did Mr. Henderson survive the fire?”

“I went up a ladder and into his room, of course,” said Alexander. “His man and I managed to rouse him enough to get him out, and in the nick of time. The top floor fell in about ten minutes later. I assumed Wandsworth had fled the scene, and did not check, but as the lab exploded right after that, I don’t think I’d have had time. It was... traumatic.” He drew the back of his hand over his mouth. “I went for David the moment the other women were out. I... I had no reason to suppose Wandsworth had not long fled; her sabotage of my car which nearly killed us but for my man’s skill, suggests she intended to flee. I never for one moment supposed she would leave any way but through the door. Excuse me... it was a shock when we opened that back door to go to the lab, and saw... her.” He paled again, thinking about it.

He was released, and the expert called.

 

The expert spoke about explosions and fire. Nothing was said about Jonathon or his gang, and the jury was left to deliberate.

Alexander sat down beside David.

“Will this hell ever end?” whispered David.

“Yes, when this is over, I have some work to do dealing with Jonathon and friends, and then it will be over. You can spend Christmas with us, and then see about rebuilding. You were insured?”

“Oh! Yes,” said David. “Does it cover arson?”

“So long as it’s not set by you for the purpose of gain,” said Alexander, dryly. “Oh, that was quick we’re being summoned back.”

Ffoulkson peered over his half-moon glasses.

“It is the opinion of this inquest into Gloria Tryphema Wandsworth that she met her end by accidental death; death by misadventure, whilst engaged in committing a felony,” he said.

Alexander sagged against David, who sagged against him.

“I’m taking you boys home,” said Simon.

“Sorry, sir; I have to motor into London and give my report to Barrett,” said Alexander.

“What, is your car fixed?”

“No, but I’ll wire Barrett and tell him I’ll give him a full report first thing,” said Alexander. “Sid was too busy enjoying the inquest to finish my car. But he promised it for tomorrow morning.”

 

oOoOo

 

 

 

Sid was as good as his word, and Alexander was glad to be able to go into London to give his report to Barrett.

“You wrapped that one up nicely,” said Barrett. “After my job, are you?”

“When you get your own promotion,” said Alexander, cheerfully. “And I’m on leave over Christmas; it was a damned nasty case and finding that burned body....”

Barrett looked at the young man’s shaking hands.

“Too many memories of the war?” he asked, sympathetically.

“Yes, sir,” said Alexander. “Sorry.”

“I’d rather you took the leave due to you and were back on fine form, than have to give you medical leave,” said Barrett, gruffly. “Are you fit to drive?”

“Yes, I’ll take time to eat something, and calm down, and then I’ll be fine,” said Alexander. “I... I keep thinking that if she hadn’t already killed Basil, if we couldn’t get him out, he’d have been the same, and... and fire terrified him. Understandably.”

“My dear boy,” said Barrett. “You need to talk that through with your father; I’m not much good at making wise words, but at least your friend was spared that. And besides, you’d have got him out, whatever it cost you.”

“I... yes, I probably would,” said Alexander. “I’m going to have nightmares for a while, though.”

“That little girl of yours will help,” said Barrett. “No, I know you can’t talk to her about your thoughts about her brother, but she’ll be a comfort.”

“Yes, sir,” said Alexander.

 

 

oOoOo

 

 

 

Alexander went into the Lyon’s café for a coffee, and then was ready to motor down to Essex.  The door flew open as he came to a halt, and as soon as he was out of the car, Ida was in his arms.

“There’s been stuff all over the news, Alex,” she said. “No details, but it was pretty obvious.  It’s been a bit ghastly, but your parents have been Trojans, they’re used to such nonsense. And Simonpapa has talked David into listening to my advice, and though he’s going to rebuild Foresquares, he’s going by some drawings I made, and no access panels to outside at all!”

“Ida!” said Alexander. “I wrote to you about Gloria. Do you think me guilty of killing her?”

“Darling, was she in the house when you wedged them shut? Or rather, did you think she was?”

“I thought she probably was; she was in a vile mood, though.”

“Did you think, ‘if I block off the panels, I can stop Gloria from escaping?’”

“No, to be honest, I never thought of her leaving until the morning. I thought she might spend half the night there pouring chemicals down drains, or taking them out the back to secrete somewhere, to pick up at her leisure. She had a model T Ford in the garage, a rather beaten up second-hand one, but I assumed she’d pack as much as she could in her car, and drive over to see Jonathon, not knowing that he was nicked. That was towed away for the forensics boys.”

“Well then,” said Ida. “You had no intent to kill her; and that’s what counts.”

“I... I wasn’t going to tell you this, but you’re a strong person, and we should have no secrets,” said Alexander, pouring out the pictures in his head of Basil, trapped in a burning house;

“But you’d have got him out,” said Ida, simply.

“Oh, Ida!” Alexander buried his face in Ida’s hair. He suddenly realised something. “You’ve been bobbed.”

“Mamargaret did it,” said Ida. “I think it’s fetching, but you haven’t said a word about it yet.”

“You were a sight for sore eyes, but I am afraid it was your sweet face on which I was focused,” said Alexander. “You look lovely with it bobbed.”

“Well, then, that’s all right,” said Ida. “You should be kissing me.”

Alexander rectified this lamentable omission on his part.

 

 

Next story up will be Felicity's Fashions, a novella in epistolary style, I will, however, take Monday off and begin posting on tuesday.