Garden of Secrets Past

TEN


Off the top of his head, Kingston knew that Aconitum—also known as monkshood, from its hood-shaped blossoms—was a common plant that grew in the wild and was used extensively in horticulture for its bright blue flowers that, in many ways, resembled delphinium. Worldwide, there were over two hundred species of the genus, most, but not all, blue, and every part of the plant was poisonous. The poison is from the toxic alkaloid aconitine, which is concentrated mainly in the root. Kingston remembered reading that as little as 2 mg of aconitine could cause death in an adult male within four hours, and that one-fiftieth of a grain can kill a sparrow in seconds. It had always amazed him to see it growing willy-nilly in gardens all over Britain. Most nurseries nowadays caution gardeners about its toxicity and advise that it not be grown in areas where children might be present and to keep it in the background of borders. Even handling the plant improperly can cause poisoning.

He wondered how the aconitine had been administered to Tristan. He went into his small office and woke up his Mac. Within minutes he had more information on aconitine than he could have imagined. He found that in some cases of premeditated poisonings, a tincture of aconitine—an alcoholic extract—had been mixed into a drink, usually whisky or other strong liquor, making the taste of the poison unnoticeable. This raised another question. If Tristan was reputed to be a recluse, then the odds that he was poisoned at home were far greater. So how had someone slipped him the drink or poisoned his food? And who?

Another five minutes on the Web and he’d read all he wanted to know. It was timely, because the cordless phone next to him started ringing. He picked it up, responding with a simple “Hello.”

“Dr. Kingston?”

Kingston recognized the slight northern accent. “This is he.”

“Inspector Wheatley. I’m calling concerning the recent death of Tristan Veitch. You’re still working for Lord Morley, I take it?”

“I am.”

“I’m sure that by now Amanda Veitch has told you that we’ve interviewed her both concerning her brother’s death and the break-in and burglary at their house.”

“She has, yes.”

“She tells us that four days ago you contacted her brother about a project you were working on, and subsequently he left you a phone message requesting you to meet him at their house. Is that correct, so far?”

“It is. Except that the meeting never took place. By that time he’d been taken to the hospital.”

“Quite. After that, at his request, you visited him in Stafford Memorial.”

“I did.”

“By rights, because you’re a material witness in a criminal proceeding, I should have you come in for a formal interview. But for reasons of expediency, and to save you a long trip, I decided to forgo the formality and question you on the phone. I must inform you that our conversation is being recorded, of course.”

“I appreciate the special treatment, Inspector. I’m happy to cooperate.”

“Excuse me a moment, Doctor.”

Kingston waited while the inspector conferred with someone in the background. In a few seconds, he was back. “I know it was you who first called him, but I want to get this straight. It turned out that he was glad that you’d called and wanted to talk to you anyway. Quite a coincidence, I’d say. Is this pretty much what happened?”

“Yes, it is.”

“On this phone message, did Mr. Veitch tell you why he wanted to see you?”

“It was all rather vague. As you know, he was a historian and was working on a story about the history of Sturminster and the Morleys. It seemed he’d uncovered some sordid criminal acts that had taken place in the eighteenth century. It involved the Morley family at the time.”

“Was he aware that you were conducting an inquiry for Morley, or that you’d been involved in investigative work before?”

“He said he knew of my reputation, that’s all.”

“Tell me what happened when you arrived for the appointment.”

“Very little. His sister, Amanda, met me at the door. She told me that she was Tristan’s sister and that he’d just been taken to the hospital. I apologized for arriving at such a bad moment, gave her my card, and left. It all happened in a couple of minutes.”

“Had she been expecting you?”

“Yes. Her brother had told her I was coming.”

“What was her state of mind at the time?”

“She was visibly upset. Genuinely so, I’d say.”

“Did she say why he’d been hospitalized?”

“No. She didn’t.”

“How did you manage to visit Tristan Veitch in critical care at the hospital, alone?”

Kingston had to think for a moment. “The morning after I met Amanda Veitch, she called me at home saying that her brother was in critical care and wanted to see me. The doctor had told her that Tristan didn’t have too long to live, and if I still wanted to see him, I’d best leave right away. I met her at Stafford Memorial later that morning and was able to spend about ten minutes with Veitch.”

“She said you returned to the hospital the next day.”

“That’s correct. After I’d seen Veitch that day, I was planning to go back home, but a bad storm came in and I decided to stay overnight in Stafford instead of driving back down.”

“To London?”

“Right.”

“Where did you stay?”

“The James Hotel, in Lichfield.” Kingston realized by now that the reason for the cross-examination was that the inspector was making sure that Kingston’s version of events agreed with whatever Amanda had told him.

Wheatley had not finished. “So why did you return to the hospital?”

“Amanda asked me to see Tristan in her stead.”

“When was that?”

“The morning before I left the hotel to return home.”

“About what time?”

“About, let me see … about nine o’clock.”

“She called you?”

“No, I called her. She’d been trying to reach me at home. She didn’t know that I’d stayed in Stafford overnight and said she’d been calling to tell me the house had been ransacked and that she’d left a message on my machine. She asked me if I would visit Tristan in her place that morning. She was conscience stricken, but for obvious reasons couldn’t or didn’t want to leave the house. She asked me to tell Tristan that she would try to see him later that day.”

“So when you finally got home, was there a message from her on your phone machine?”

Kingston was beginning to realize that this was no provincial copper he was talking to. “There was, yes,” he replied. “The date and time recorded verified what she’d said.”

“Good. Couple more questions and that’s it—for now, anyway.”

“Fine,” said Kingston.

“When you saw Veitch at the hospital, what did you two talk about? Did he tell you anything about his work, anything that might suggest that he knew someone would want to send some kind of message—or worse?”

Kingston had to think quickly. This was the question he’d hoped wouldn’t be asked.

“He was in bad shape. I could tell that trying to say even a few words was stressful for him. He told me that he was working on a book. I got the impression that it was an opus of sorts, a big deal. Thinking about it, it made sense because he was probably more accustomed to writing articles for the local paper, historical societies, and such.”

“What was the book about? Did he tell you?”

“Somewhat. It was to be a definitive history of Staffordshire, with the focus on people who had contributed to its development and progress throughout the centuries, as opposed to the usual facts and figures, that is.”

“Not exactly Ian Rankin, though?”

“Hardly.”

“Anything more?”

Kingston knew that if he tried to gloss over what Veitch had told him he could have a lot of explaining to do later and could even end up facing a charge of withholding evidence in a homicide case. He was walking a thin line and he knew it.

“There was, actually,” Kingston said at length. “I found it interesting, for obvious reasons. As I mentioned earlier, he said that he’d stumbled on information related to Sturminster that was at odds with what has been recorded historically. It dealt with what he called the missing money legend, some nefarious activities that supposedly took place back in the 1700s. If his research were to be proved correct, he said it would rewrite the history books. When the names of the people implicated were made public, and the staggering amount of money involved was revealed, the repercussions would be beyond belief. Those were his exact words, as far as I recall.”

“If he was referring to the legendary Morley family feud over the admiral’s missing money, that’s hardly new information. Every county in England has its share of questionable history and legends, and ours is no exception. He wouldn’t be the first by a long chalk to suspect that there’s a small fortune buried somewhere on Sturminster’s land.”

“I got the impression that it was far more than ‘suspect.’ He was a historian, after all, and as such he would know of every legend, myth, and fable passed down through the ages or in the books.”

“Even if what he said is true, Doctor, with all of his manuscripts, papers, and notes, and his computer gone, it’s doubtful that we’ll ever know for sure what he’d found out. All I know is that someone poisoned Tristan Veitch, and people don’t usually do that unless there’s a very compelling reason. Like I said before, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me in the loop on new information you run across. I’m aware of your reputation and I’m sure that, going forward, we can work together on an amicable basis. I’m sure Lord Morley would want it that way.”

They exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses, and the conversation ended on a cordial note.

Kingston felt that he’d acquitted himself quite well. He certainly hadn’t dodged any questions. He’d made no mention of the fact that Veitch had intimated that he knew something about Endicott’s murder or that he had more or less confirmed that codes of some kind were involved in his investigation. In both instances Veitch’s admissions had been vague, to say the least. In any case, if he had told the inspector, it would have opened a floodgate of questions for which there were no factual answers. Despite all that, he had a nagging suspicion that the real reason for Wheatley’s call was to substantiate Amanda’s version of what had happened. Was she considered a credible suspect in her brother’s death?