The Tulip Girl (38 page)

‘But you have since, eh?’

‘Well – yes.’

‘So, it would have been quite easy for you to administer a first, small dose of arsenic, just enough to make her ill and then, when you took over the food preparation, you began to
increase the dosage, eh? It would be easy then to put it into just her food, wouldn’t it?’

‘I didn’t. I swear I didn’t do anything to harm anyone.’

He ignored her protestations as if she had not spoken. ‘Who’s next, eh? Her son, Nicholas, or . . .’ He leant menacingly closer and his voice dropped to a shocked whisper,
acting as if he couldn’t believe even her capable of such wickedness. ‘. . . .Your own son?’

Maddie gasped, staring at him. Now she began to tremble. What hope had she of proving her innocence if this man could believe she could do such a thing?

He straightened up now and resumed his pacing around her. Maddie wasn’t sure which was the most unnerving.

‘You say you didn’t have anything to do with the preparation of food?’

‘No. Mrs Trowbridge did all that.’

‘Nothing at all?’

‘No.’

Again he was in front of her and now he thumped both fists down onto the table so suddenly that Maddie almost leapt from her chair. ‘You’re lying! Do you mean to tell me that you
never prepared anything that the people in that household ate or drank? You never so much as made a sandwich, or a pot of tea, or . . .’ The menace in his tone was back. ‘. . . The
cocoa at night?’

She opened her mouth to ask ‘How did you know?’ but without uttering a word she clamped her lips tightly together.

‘Ah,
now
we’ve nothing to say, have we?’ He jabbed his forefinger towards her. ‘You put arsenic in the housekeeper’s cocoa that you used to make every night
for the whole family. And I dare bet that was the way you did it with Frank Brackenbury, too. And when we’ve exhumed his body, we’ll prove it.’

He turned on his heel and left the interview room, leaving Maddie staring after him, open-mouthed and very afraid.

She was taken back to the cell and left alone for the next two hours before being taken back to the interview room again. Here, there was always one constable or another in the room with her,
but they never spoke to her. Even when someone brought her a cup of tea, they did not speak, even though she said, automatically, ‘Thank you.’

Eventually, the door opened and Maddie stiffened, expecting the return of her ruthless inquisitor. Instead, it was another stranger to Maddie who now entered the room and sat down in front of
her. He was dressed in plain clothes, like the previous one, but whereas the first detective had been thin and wiry, this one was very overweight. His jacket was undone and his shirt buttons
strained as he moved, looking as if they would pop off at any moment. He had a round, florid face and he breathed noisily, but to Maddie’s surprise he was smiling at her as he sat down on the
opposite side of the table.

‘My name’s Detective Inspector Johnson and you’re Maddie, aren’t you?’ As she nodded, he went on. ‘Yes. Now let’s see if we can clear this little matter
up and we can all go home, eh?’ He leant back in the chair and linked his fingers across his belly. ‘My colleague a bit rough on you, was he? Well, he’s only doing his job. But
let’s you and me see if we can sort this out, all nice and friendly like, shall we?’

Maddie felt herself begin to relax a little. At least she felt that she could talk to this one, that he would listen.

‘Let’s say you didn’t do it deliberately. Let’s say it’s all been a terrible accident. Did you ever mix up weedkiller, Maddie?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Nick always did that.’

‘Nick?’

‘Nicholas Trowbridge.’

‘Ah yes, Nicholas. Mm.’ DS Johnson regarded her steadily. ‘We have a statement from Mr Trowbridge that says although it was normally his job, he had shown you how to do it.
That true?’

‘Well, yes. On a farm like ours, we have to be able to do each other’s jobs, just in case one of us is ill . . .’ Her voice trailed away. Every time she spoke it seemed as if
she dug a deeper hole for herself. She felt as if, at any moment, the sides were going to cave in and she was going to be buried alive.

‘So . . .’ his tone was still deceptively mild, but she saw the sudden spark in his eyes. He had her now, he knew he had her trapped. ‘You admit you know how to mix up
weedkiller or maybe rat poison with a base of arsenic, which you keep on the farm? And you also admit that it was the custom for you to make the cocoa at night?’

In a small voice, Maddie could say nothing other than, ‘Yes.’

Now he leant forward and rested his arms on the table. ‘So, how do you think it looks to us, Maddie?’

A spark of resilience ignited inside her. Maddie faced him with surprising calm. ‘It must look to you,’ she said slowly, ‘as if I’m guilty. I see that. But I’m not.
I swear to you I have done nothing to harm anyone.’

Her gaze held his steadily and for a brief moment she saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. Then slowly he stood up. ‘You’re a cool one, I’ll say that for you.’

They were the last words she exchanged with anyone for twenty-four hours.

‘Am I allowed to send a message to a friend?’

When a constable brought a meal into the cell, Maddie asked the question. During the time she had been left alone, she had been doing a lot of thinking. Though fear still clawed at her belly and
the food they brought every few hours stuck in her throat, nevertheless, she was calmer now and able to think more rationally.

‘What friend might that be?’

‘Jenny Wren who works at the corner shop in Eastmere.’

The constable glanced over his shoulder as if unsure whether he should be even speaking to the prisoner, let alone doing favours for her. In a low voice, he said, ‘She’s already been
in to the station three times, asking about you.’

Maddie gave a tremulous smile and relief and gratitude flooded through her. Jenny would never let her down.

‘Please, when she comes again . . .’ Maddie said, for she was sure she would. ‘Could you ask her to look after Adam? That’s my son. He’s only ten. It’s not
fair on Nick that he should have to look after the boy. He’ll have enough to do trying to keep things going on the farm.’

There was relief on the constable’s face. ‘Oh, that’s all right. One of the things she said to tell you was that the lad was staying with her and Mrs – er – Grange,
is it?’

Maddie nodded and breathed a sigh of thankfulness. ‘Yes, Mrs Grange.’

As he turned to go, he even smiled at her. ‘That’s all right, then.’

‘Yes, yes, it is. Thank you.’

It was not until the heavy door had clanged behind him and she was alone once more that Maddie realized she had not asked him what else it was that Jenny had said.

Maddie passed another night in the small, dark room, though this time she did sleep a little. The following morning shortly after breakfast, she was taken once more to the
interview room and mentally she steeled herself for yet more questioning.

As she waited, with only the silent constable sitting in the far corner for company, she wondered which of her two interrogators it would be this time.

The door opened and the desk sergeant announced, ‘A visitor for you. Your solicitor.’

Maddie looked up and began to say, ‘But I haven’t got a solicitor . . .’ but the words remained unspoken as she gave a start of surprise as the man walked into the room.

‘Mr Theo.’

He was smiling as he came and sat down opposite her, placing a folder of papers on the table beside him. But she could see the concern for her in his blue eyes. For the first time in a very long
time, tears threatened to overwhelm her.

‘Maddie.’ His voice was gentle. ‘How are you? Are they treating you well?’

She could not speak for the lump in her throat, so she nodded. The lump grew bigger as he reached across the space between them and took both her hands into his. The warmth of his touch filled
her with a new hope. He had come to help her. She knew he could see the unshed tears welling in her eyes, as he patted her hands and said, ‘There, there, we’ll soon have you out of
here. They can’t hold you longer than another few hours without charging you and they haven’t done that, have they?’

Maddie shook her head and her voice was husky with emotion as she said, ‘I don’t know what they’ve done, except ask me lots of questions and then not believe my answers.’
She bit her lip and, unable to prevent the quaver in her voice, added, ‘Mr Theo, do you believe me? You don’t think I – I could poison anyone, do you?’

His reply was swift and genuine. ‘Of course I don’t. Why else do you think I’m here?’

For a moment she clung to his hands like a drowning person. ‘I don’t know, but I’m so glad you are. Thank you, Mr Theo.’

‘For a start, Maddie, let’s drop the Mister, shall we? From now on it’s Theo. You did promise once before,’ he added softly. ‘Remember?’ Without waiting for
her agreement or otherwise he gently released her hold on him and opened the file lying on the table. ‘Now, let’s start at the beginning. Since they are involving Frank
Brackenbury’s death in their enquiries, we shall have to do so as well. When exactly did he fall ill and can you remember his symptoms?’

Maddie frowned, trying to dredge back in her memory. ‘Adam was about five or six months’ old because I remember asking him to look after him whilst I worked. That was before he got
really bad, whilst he was still able to sit by the fire in the living room, you know.’

‘No, go further back than that. The very first time you saw that there was something wrong.’

Now she remembered. ‘It was Nick who remarked on it first. He asked me if I’d noticed that Frank seemed to be slowing up in his work.’

‘And had you?’

‘No, not until Nick mentioned it. But then, I was always so busy what with Adam and trying to build up the new business . . .’ And, she added privately, trying not to think about
Michael.

‘Mm. And then what happened?’

‘Well, I asked Frank if he was feeling all right and he admitted that he had been feeling “a bit under the weather” as he called it. He said he still had a bit of pain in his
leg.’

‘His leg?’

‘Yes, there’d been a bit of a mishap. Nick had accidentally speared Frank’s foot with a fork.’

‘And was that all that was wrong?’

‘No, Frank said he’d been having a bit of stomach trouble . . .’ She broke off as she met his steady gaze. Theo nodded and said quietly, ‘Go on.’

‘He made a – a joke and said he hadn’t wanted to make a fuss in case Harriet – that’s Mrs Trowbridge – thought that he was blaming her cooking.’

‘And was he?’

Maddie shook her head, ‘No, of course not. It was only said in fun. I know it was.’

‘So then what happened?’

‘Well, I made him go to the doctor, but he came back and said the doctor – Dr Hanson it was then – couldn’t find anything wrong.’

‘But he got worse?’

‘Yes. Every day we could see him getting weaker although it was very gradual over quite a long time, but in the end he couldn’t get up out of his bed. I called the doctor to the
house then to see him. He . . .’

‘Wait a minute, don’t go so fast, Maddie. I want you to think back very carefully. Who prepared Frank’s food or drink during that time? Who nursed him when he took to his
bed?’

‘Well, we all did. Of course Mrs Trowbridge cooked all the meals, just as she always did. But I made drinks and even Nick carried his meals up and sat with him throughout the night
sometimes to let me get a bit of rest. He was ever so good . . .’

‘Nick?’

‘Yes, but . . .’ Her eyes widened as she stared at him. ‘Oh no, you don’t think – you can’t think . . .?’

Theo held up his hand, palm towards her, ‘Maddie, I’m not thinking anything at the moment. I am just trying to establish what actually happened and the order of events to get things
clear in my own mind. Now, go on.’ He reached across the table again and gave her hand a quick squeeze. ‘You’re doing very well. You’ve got a wonderful memory.’

So Maddie went on with her story, remembering in detail all that had occurred leading up to Frank’s death. She didn’t consider herself to be clever or to have a particularly good
memory. It was just that everything was so clear because it was not possible to forget that dreadful time. Sometimes, she wished she could have blotted out the whole thing. And now she was being
asked to relive it again and, all the time, Theo made notes on a large, lined notepad. She told him everything right up to the time she had found Frank in the battery house and they had all
believed that in his weakened state, he had been careless.

When she fell silent at last, Theo shuffled his papers together. ‘Have the police asked you to sign anything?’

Maddie shook her head.

‘Well, they might want you to make a formal statement before they let you go. If they do, don’t sign anything until I’m here. You understand.’

‘Yes, Mr . . . Yes, Theo.’

As he stood up, she asked, ‘Will they really let me go?’

Theo glanced at his watch. ‘They’ll have to, unless they’re going to charge you, and I don’t see how they can.’ Her hopes soared only to be dashed at his next
words. ‘At least, not yet.’

‘You mean – you think they will?’

Theo’s face was sober. ‘It depends what evidence they find. They’ll no doubt be interviewing Dr Battison and, I’m afraid, they’ll be searching the farm and taking
away any kind of poisonous substances they find on the premises.’ He glanced at her sympathetically. ‘And then, of course, there’s what the forensic team find in Frank’s
body.’

Maddie shuddered, seeing horrific pictures of poor Frank being disturbed from his resting place. It wasn’t right and yet she’d have to let it happen if it was all that would prove
her innocence. ‘It’s so awful,’ she said aloud. ‘Them digging him up.’

Theo sighed. ‘It’s the only course open to them – and us, I’m afraid. I’ve already asked at the hospital if by any chance the blood samples that were taken to do
those tests on him when he was ill might have been kept. But, of course, they weren’t, because at the time there were no suspicious circumstances surrounding his death. That was quite
obviously an accident.’