Faith Martin - A Fatal Flaw

Obviously the poison had been in the glass of orange juice (as chemical analysis had confirmed). But how had it got there?

Given what they’d been told, Clement thought it a good guess that they would bring in a verdict that the girl herself had made up a ‘beauty’ potion and had sadly and fatally poisoned herself in the process.

But Clement Ryder was not so sure.

So in his summing up, he very cleverly played on their confusion by stressing that an open verdict would give the authorities time to explore the matter further.

Thus feeling relieved at having the responsibility for giving a firm decision taken off their shoulders, they gratefully accepted this gift horse without so much as even a cursory look inside its mouth, and took less than ten minutes to return with the aforementioned open verdict – much to the chagrin of the police representative, who had hoped that he might be able to write this case off their books once and for all, with minimum time and effort.

The gentlemen of the press quickly fled to file their stories – for the ‘mysterious death of a beauty queen’ could run for days, if handled properly, thus saving them the time and effort of going out and hunting down real stories. Besides, death and pretty girls always sold well, making everyone happy.

Well, everyone except for Robert Dunbar of course, who would not be a happy man at all. He had been hoping that the demise of Abigail Trent would be settled quickly and discreetly, and would not be allowed to sully his first foray into the world of showbiz.

* * *

The next morning, another man who felt decidedly unhappy was DI Harry Jennings. But then, he never was particularly sanguine whenever Dr Clement Ryder chose to drop by his office. It nearly always meant trouble and inconvenience.

But for once, the Inspector was determined not to play ball. ‘Sorry, you can’t have WPC Truelove. She’s been seconded on special duties,’ he informed the older man smugly.

Since Trudy had already told him that said ‘special duties’ required her to search the female suspects who were being brought in during a sporadic raid on the city’s brothels, Clement didn’t feel particularly impressed.

‘That’s a shame,’ Clement said mildly. ‘The press are going to be all over this case, whether we like it or not.’

‘I don’t see why there should be any trouble,’ Jennings growled uneasily.

‘Well, since there seems to be a joker at work in the theatre, the more ribald daily rags might make some play with it.’

The Inspector looked at him narrowly. ‘What do you mean? What sort of joker?’ he asked, feeling genuinely alarmed now. It seemed the wily old coroner was on to something that he didn’t know about. And that was never a good sign.

‘Oh, hadn’t you found that out yet?’ Clement asked casually. Luckily, Trudy had left nothing out when reciting Grace’s woes.

‘Apparently there’s been trouble within the beauty pageant. Spiked face creams and trip wires across the stage steps and such forth.’ He waved a hand casually in the air.

‘That just sounds like petty rivalries to me,’ Jennings said impatiently. ‘It hardly sounds like anything serious.’

‘Oh, I agree,’ Clement said. ‘But it does mean that you’ll have to concentrate some of your efforts around this competition. Just in case the prankster went too far, and maybe didn’t quite understand the poisonous possibilities of yew?’

‘So?’ Inspector Jennings tried to sound off-hand, but his unease was growing.

Clement shrugged. ‘I think the owner of the theatre and the organiser of the contest, not to mention the girls themselves, might take it amiss having big-footed male constables tramping about all over the place. Catching them out “accidentally” in their undies during the changes, gawping at them in their swimsuits and generally making a nuisance of themselves.’

Inspector Jennings flushed. ‘I hardly think that’s likely! My men are professionals through and through.’

‘Hmm. But men will be men. You don’t think they’re going to take advantage of so many pretty witnesses?’

‘I do not!’ Jennings huffed.

‘Because if they do, and there are any complaints… Can you just imagine the headlines in the papers?’ Clement gave a mock shudder.

‘It won’t happen,’ Jennings said flatly. ‘I’ll make sure of that!’

‘But why risk it? Don’t you think, since you’re lucky enough to have a woman police constable assigned to you, that it makes perfect sense to make use of her in a situation that’s clearly calling out for her services?’ he asked mildly.

The Inspector – who didn’t feel at all lucky to have had a woman foisted onto his previously all-male police station – eyed the older man warily. He didn’t like it when the old vulture talked in such a mild and reasonable tone. It made him feel very wary indeed.

Besides, he was damned if he was going to let the older man bamboozle him into doing what he wanted.

‘WPC Loveday is too inexperienced to be given any real responsibility yet,’ he said adamantly.

Clement, who was wearing his usual impeccable suit (today a dark-grey creation with a dark-red pinstripe so thin it was almost invisible), casually crossed one leg over the other at the knee, and regarded thoughtfully the short length of his burgundy-coloured sock which his actions had just revealed.

‘But unless she’s given the opportunity to gain experience, she’ll never get to learn, will she?’ he pointed out reasonably.

The Inspector sighed softly. ‘This is an ongoing case thanks to y… to the verdict brought in by the jury,’ he gritted. He was, of course, well aware that the coroner had directed the jury into the verdict, and was determined that the interfering old so-and-so wouldn’t get his way this time. For once, he and his little pet would have to learn they couldn’t win every time.

‘And for that reason,’ he swept on with a blithe smile, ‘I’ve decided to appoint a more able police officer to continue the inquiries into Abigail Trent’s death.’

Clement looked at him curiously. That the Inspector was being deliberately obstructive didn’t really surprise him. But he wondered, idly, what was behind it. Misogyny perhaps? Or was it Clement himself that Jennings objected to?

Either way, it didn’t really matter. He was in no mood to cross swords with such a feeble opponent. It was far easier – and quicker – to simply go over his head.

‘Well, if that’s the way you feel about it,’ he said with a pleasant smile, putting both his feet to the floor and rising abruptly from his chair. As he crossed to the door, putting his hat on his head as he went, he was aware that the policeman was watching him with both surprised and wary eyes.

‘Good day, Inspector,’ Clement said pleasantly from the doorway, before walking through the outer office and nodding every now and then to the polite greetings from the few officers who were working at their desks.

Back in his own office, it took the wily old coroner only two minutes to decide which of his friends he needed to call. There were several men who owed him a favour – and now he thought of one in particular. Back in the old days, he’d saved one of his colleagues from making a potentially disastrous mistake when he’d misdiagnosed a patient with a rare condition. It had been a mistake almost any doctor would have made, but Clement had been lucky enough to have had a similar case early in his own career, and thus he’d recognised the very subtle signs.

His friend was now a VIP on a large scale, with thumbs in many pies, and had been itching to get out of Clement’s debt for years. So it would make his day to hear that he could finally do Clement a good turn in exchange and feel that they were now even.