Margaret Millar - The Devil Loves Me

“You mean, kill me?”

“That’s right.”

“No, of course not. Why, I’ve never injured anyone in my whole life. The poison was probably intended for someone else.” She paused, her eyes gradually brightening. “That’s it, of course! The poison was intended for you, Paul. It wasn’t for me at all.”

“Why me?”

She waved her arm vaguely. “Well, aren’t you — I mean, you are connected with things like murder and all that, aren’t you?”

“That’s hardly a reason for poisoning me.”

She gazed at him with reproach. “It is a much better reason than anyone has for poisoning me.”

“You had your breakfast with Dr. Prye this morning, Miss Stevens?” Inspector Sands asked.

“Yes, that’s why I’m so sure that the poison was intended for—”

“Yes,” Sands said. “Was there any switching of coffee cups? Who served the coffee? Did you have any other liquids? Did you notice any peculiar taste?”

“The bacon,” Jane said brightly.

“Other than the bacon?”

“No.”

“Tell me everything you did from the time you got up this morning.”

“Well,” Jane said, “I woke up early, something which I loathe doing, don’t you? I put on my robe, it’s blue to match my nightgown and I didn’t want to dress up before—”

“All right. You came down the stairs. Then what?”

“Then Dr. Prye came down and we went into the dining room. Jackson was bringing in the percolator. Or was it Hilda? I can’t remember.”

“Jackson,” Prye said.

“Of course. It was Jackson. I said good morning to him and he said it wasn’t a very nice day for the wedding. Then I sat down. I had grapefruit juice, bacon, one egg, two slices of toast, and some coffee. Jackson poured the coffee.”

“I did,” Prye said.

“So you did,” Jane said. “Anyway, as soon as I tasted the bacon I knew there was something odd about it. Rancid, you know. I don’t wonder it was bad now that I know—”

“The bacon was all right,” Prye said violently. “I didn’t have any grapefruit juice but I did have bacon. It was all right. It didn’t have any poison on it, in it, or under it. It was swell.”

“You needn’t repeat it so often, Paul,” Jane said coldly. “I understand. You think the poison was put into the grapefruit juice or the coffee and not the bacon. But you needn’t even bother thinking it was in the grapefruit juice, because if someone were trying to poison you, Paul, they wouldn’t put it in my drink.” She turned to Inspector Sands and smiled at him sweetly. “Would they?”

The inspector was saddened by this appeal. I wonder, he thought, if it’s any use. He spoke very slowly and distinctly: “Since it was you, Miss Stevens, who received the poison, I must assume in the absence of further evidence that it was you who were intended to receive it.”

Jane was trying hard to follow this, it was evident. Her eyes had narrowed to small, bright, almost intelligent slits. After a time she said pensively:

“It might even have been Duncan. Hardly anyone likes Duncan. And that glass of water I drank in his room—”

“You went into Duncan’s room after breakfast?”

“Yes. You see, he was drinking rather heavily last night. He said really dreadful things to everyone. Duncan gets so clever when he’s drunk and I can hardly understand what he’s talking about, but you could tell he was saying dreadful things from his expression.”

“Yes. After breakfast this morning you went to his room. What for?”

Jane smiled patiently. “To wake him. He was to be an usher, you see. I thought I’d better take him some aspirin tablets. He gets the most horrid headaches. Duncan has a very nervous disposition so I think his headaches are migraine. It’s always worse after he’s been drinking, for some reason, and I did want him to be feeling all right for the wedding. So I went and got my bottle of aspirin tablets and took them into his room.”

“What time was that?”

“Miss Stevens went upstairs about ten minutes to nine,” Prye said.

“Well, it must have taken about five minutes to get the aspirin, so that would make it five minutes to nine,” Jane said with an air of triumph. “But when I got there you’d never guess whom I saw coming out of Duncan’s room!”

“All right,” Prye said. “Who?”

Jane turned to Sands. “Do you give up too, Inspector?”

“Yes, I give up,” Sands said.

“Well,” Jane said, “it was Dinah. I never was so surprised in my life, because Duncan and Dinah can’t stand each other. And when I got inside the room I was quite shocked because Duncan was still sleeping and Dinah had had her pajamas on. I didn’t know what to think.”

She knew what to think, Sands decided, and she thought it. Aloud he said: “Isn’t there a possibility that she had just gone in to awaken him?”

Jane’s eyes widened. “I never thought of that. It’s a possibility , of course.”

“Did Mrs. Revel know you had seen her?”

“Oh yes. I said good morning to her. She said good morning and went down the hall into her own room. She wasn’t in the least flustered, but then Dinah never is, really. She pretends she is sometimes, just to — just for excitement.”

“Did you wake your brother?” Sands prompted.

“I shook him and shouted to him, but he wouldn’t wake up. The only thing that ever wakens Duncan is cold water. There was a pitcher of it half full on his night table, so I poured out a glass and let it trickle out on his forehead.” She giggled. “Oh, he was terribly mad!”

“You mentioned taking a drink of water yourself,” Sands said.

“Yes, I did. Somehow, I could still taste that frightful bacon. There was a little water left in the pitcher so I drank some of it.”

“How did it taste?”

Jane wrinkled her nose. “Well, it tasted funny, but I thought that was because it was Duncan’s water.”

“Duncan’s water?” Sands repeated. “I see. He even had special water to drink?”

“Well, not exactly. It’s the same water, but Duncan never drinks anything that isn’t room temperature. He thinks all these hot and cold drinks that people take cause stomach ulcers. Even his cocktails have to be lukewarm.”

Sands interrupted, “So that the pitcher was left standing in his room all night to make the water room temperature?”

Jane nodded. “Yes, because when Duncan has migraine he is awfully thirsty in the mornings. He was very angry with me for drinking his water so I went downstairs to the kitchen to get him some. I mixed a little hot water with the cold.”

“Why didn’t you ring for Jackson or Hilda?”

“Duncan told me not to. Duncan says the only way he can teach me these things is to let me learn from experience. He said I must reap what I sow, and if I drink someone else’s water I have to replace it.” She sighed, rubbing her fingers across her white forehead. “Duncan is awfully clever.”

“Duncan,” Prye mumbled to the window, “is a pain in the pants.”

But Jane was paying no attention. She was talking again, assuring Sands that she felt the whole thing was a Ghastly Mistake, that she felt perfectly well and wanted to go home, or at least as far as Nora’s house.

A commotion in the hall outside the room caused her to stop abruptly. She sat up in bed. “That’s Duncan, I bet.”

The door opened gradually and hospital sounds filled the room, the rattle of dishes and silver, the sigh of starched uniforms, the steady buzz of professional whispers, the brisk tap, tap, tap of rubber-soled shoes.

One whisper raised its head above the crowd.

“I’m afraid you can’t, Mrs. Revel,” it said. “We have orders not to—”