Something Wicked (3 page)

‘Sorry to bother you so early, my lord, but I wonder if you could come up to Devonshire Place, number sixty-two?’

‘That’s Eric Silver, my dentist’s address. What on earth are you doing there, Chief Inspector?’

‘It says in the appointment book that you saw him at five yesterday evening.’

‘That’s correct. I was his last appointment.’

‘His receptionist tells me that he usually had a five-thirty but he’d cancelled that appointment and sent her home early.’

‘That’s right. He wanted to consult me about something. Why, what’s the matter? Is Silver all right?’

‘I’m afraid not, my lord. He’s been murdered.’

‘Murdered!’

‘Yes, the receptionist – Miss Wilton – came in twenty minutes ago and found him in his chair. Someone had used his drill to make a hole in his head. And a very messy business he made of it.’

Edward almost dropped the receiver. ‘That’s horrible, disgusting. Who on earth would do such a thing? I say, Chief Inspector, you don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?’

‘I do, I’m afraid. I found a piece of paper – a page torn out of the appointment book as a matter of fact. On it were written in block capitals the words
Aquila non captat muscas
. If I am not mistaken, my lord, that is the legend to be found on the Mersham family arms.’

‘How did you know?’

‘I remembered it from my visit to Mersham Castle.’ Three years before, Pride had investigated the murder of General Craig at the Duke of Mersham’s dinner table.

‘That’s very impressive, Chief Inspector. What a memory you have. But, do you think . . .?’

‘I think, Lord Edward, that this whole business concerns you. Someone has just sent you a peculiarly unpleasant message.’

Edward finished shaving, cutting himself in the process, dressed hurriedly and downed a cup of black coffee, all the time going over in his mind Eric Silver’s suspicion that the deaths of three of his patients were somehow connected. He had been inclined to dismiss these fears as fanciful. On balance, he thought it was mere coincidence that three elderly people had died doing what they most enjoyed – Herold playing with his bees, Hermione Totteridge in her garden and General Lowther drinking himself into oblivion. However, Silver’s murder and the unequivocal challenge his killer had left him quite altered the situation. The murderer was not interested in concealing his crimes. On the contrary, he was arrogant enough to throw the gauntlet down for Edward to pick up.

By the time the cab had dropped him in Devonshire Place, he had determined to avenge his friend’s brutal murder. It was by no stretch of the imagination his fault that Silver had been killed but it was clear that the murderer had somehow discovered that the dentist was expounding his theories to him and retribution had been swift and savage. But why had the murderer not killed Silver
before
he had spoken to him? Perhaps he had just happened to recognize Edward entering the surgery and it had aroused his suspicions. Perhaps he had actually overheard the conversation. How else could he know what Silver would say? Edward shivered as if someone was walking over his grave, as his old nanny used to say. He had heard nothing and nobody in the surgery apart from the dentist but then he was hardly listening for anyone and his ears were still ringing from the noise of that dreadful drill.

The photographs had been taken by the time he arrived and the surgery dusted for fingerprints but the corpse, mercifully covered by a sheet, was still in the dentist’s chair.

‘It’s not a pretty sight,’ Pride warned before nodding to one of his men to lift the sheet. Edward took one look and turned away in horror. For a moment he thought he might vomit but he regained control of himself and looked again. The drill had been thrust into Silver’s ear and, through that, into his brain. Blood and gore covered the wound but the drill itself was still attached to the electrical wire that drove it.

Pride signalled for the sheet to be replaced and ushered Edward out of the room. ‘I’m sorry you had to see that but I thought you might notice something.’

‘Forgive me, Chief Inspector, but I must have some air. Such a gruesome . . . the murderer must be mad . . . a sadist.’ The two men went out into the street and walked up and down until Edward began to feel better, but the horror of what he had just seen still made him want to retch. ‘Thank you. I’m sorry about that,’ he said at last. ‘I thought nothing could shock me but that . . . He was killed in his chair?’

‘Yes. I have to say it’s the most macabre murder I have ever investigated. Vindictive is the word which comes to mind.’

‘Indeed. Who else saw Silver yesterday, apart from me?’

‘He had four appointments in the morning and two in the afternoon before you. We’ll talk to them all, of course, but Miss Wilton says they are all regulars.’

‘She must be terribly shocked. Who’s looking after her?’

‘Her mother. One of my men has taken her back to Cricklewood. The doctor gave her a sedative but she was, as you would expect, in deep shock.’

‘She had worked for Silver for some time, I think.’ Edward was trying to get his brain to work.

‘About three years, I understand.’

‘As far as I know, Silver had no relatives. He wasn’t married and I remember him telling me his parents were dead.’

‘Was he . . .’ Pride hesitated, ‘a homosexual?’

‘I don’t know. It never occurred to me.’ Edward was shocked by the question but knew it had to be asked. ‘Not as far as I know,’ he said as firmly as possible. ‘May I see the piece of paper left with the body?’

They walked back into the building and took the ancient-looking lift up to the second floor. As the lift doors clanged open, Edward saw two policemen struggling down the stairs with a stretcher on which lay the shrouded body of his erstwhile dentist.

‘I really can’t get over this, Chief Inspector. You see someone full of life one moment and the next he’s struck down by a madman.’

Pride passed a sheet of paper to him. Seeing Edward hesitate, he said, ‘Go ahead. There are no fingerprints on it. No bloodstains . . . nothing at all. The killer used the pen on the receptionist’s desk. Either he was wear-ing gloves or he wiped everything clean afterwards . . . My guess is that he was wearing gloves and perhaps a white coat. Miss Wilton seems to think there’s one missing. There must have been a lot of blood. Now, if we could find those . . . ’

Edward examined the paper and the writing on it with care.

‘It must have been written by someone who knows you reasonably well – well enough to know your family’s coat of arms and to have recognized you going into the surgery,’ Pride commented.

‘And he’s well educated,’ Edward remarked, ‘or the Latin wouldn’t have meant anything to him.’

‘
Aquila
– the eagle –
non captat muscas
. The eagle won’t catch flies. Am I right?’

‘Quite right, Chief Inspector.’

‘Can you guess at its significance or is it just that the murderer wants you to know that he knows who you are?’

Edward chewed his lip. ‘You’ll probably laugh me out of court, Pride, but there does seem to be an entomological significance. First, though, I’ve got to tell you what Mr Silver wanted to consult me about.’

‘I wish you would,’ Pride said drily. ‘After all, that must explain why the man was killed.’

When Edward had finished, Pride smiled thinly. ‘So you think our murderer is a bug hunter?’

‘Well, Herold was killed by his bees, Hermione Totteridge died from the poison she was using to kill her greenfly and the General drank a wine called Mouches – flies.’

Pride scratched his head. ‘I’ve never heard the like. Until we have talked to the local police we can’t know whether the theory stands up but if it turns out to be true . . . Perhaps Silver was misinformed and General Lowther died drinking something else. What about his own murder? There were no bugs involved as far as I can see – apart from your Latin motto.’

Edward sucked his lip and hesitated. ‘I expect the murderer was forced into this killing and hadn’t the time to plan something clever but . . .’

‘But?’

‘It’s probably just my odd way of looking at things but do you remember the Victorian explorer, John Hanning Speke?’ Pride shook his head. ‘He went to Africa with Richard Burton and was the first European to see Lake Victoria. No, I’m sorry, Chief Inspector, I’m being ridiculous.’

‘Go on. I’ve come to respect your hunches, Lord Edward.’

‘Well, I don’t know whether it’s true or just a myth but, as you can imagine, those early explorers in Africa were plagued by bugs and beetles of every kind. Anyway, as I remember the story, Speke woke up in his tent one morning on the shores of Lake Tanganyika to find a beetle wriggling about in his ear. He poked it with his finger and shook his head but nothing seemed to dislodge it. The feeling of the beetle squirming and buzzing in his head was driving him mad so in the end he picked up a compass from the map he was making and thrust the point into his ear.’

Pride winced. ‘And did it . . .?’

‘It killed the bug and deafened him.’

‘You spent some time in Africa, didn’t you, Lord Edward?’

‘Yes, Kenya mostly. Paradise – at least for us Europeans . . . Can you imagine one wonderful day after another . . . The Rift Valley bathed in a golden glow from sunrise to sunset. Only the insects to worry you, particularly the mosquitoes . . . ’ He stopped and considered. ‘I see what you’re getting at, Chief Inspector, but if we’re talking geography, I think it’s much more significant that all three of Silver’s patients died in the Henley area.’

‘It could be,’ Pride admitted grudgingly. ‘So the murderer was punishing Mr Silver for having told you what he suspected.’ He frowned. ‘But why not kill him
before
he had a chance of telling you anything?’

‘Why didn’t he murder me, for that matter? Perhaps he thought he could take Silver by surprise but the two of us would have been too much for him. So he decided to deal with me at a later date.’

‘He’ll know you’ll be on your guard.’

‘Yes,’ Edward said meditatively. ‘He’s very sure of himself.’

‘The question is how did he know you were coming to the surgery and that Mr Silver had cancelled his last appointment so that he had time to talk to you, or was it just a coincidence that he saw you in Devonshire Place?’

‘I don’t know but it should be possible to find out who saw the appointment book. Who were the – how many did you say? – the six who had appointments with Silver yesterday? Could Miss Wilton have mentioned to someone that I was coming in? Was a stranger seen in the building? Who else has offices here?’

Pride could see that Edward was becoming agitated. ‘Calm yourself, Lord Edward. We’ve not always seen eye to eye but you know me to be thorough. We’ll investigate everyone who might have been near the surgery yesterday.’

‘I’m sorry, Chief Inspector, but I counted Eric Silver as a friend.’

‘The savagery of his murder is something else, eh, Lord Edward? The others – if they turn out to have been murders – were macabre but not nearly so brutal.’

‘And this one took place in London not Henley and the victim wasn’t elderly like the other three.’

‘But what puzzles me is why make it so obvious that Mr Silver was murdered because he had seen you? If he hadn’t left that message, I would not necessarily have linked it with you. I mean, I would have talked to you because you were in all probability the last person – bar the murderer – to see Silver alive, but this does make it personal.’

Edward tried to grin. ‘Yes, I’m rather disappointed that you haven’t yet asked me to account for my movements yesterday. You must have considered that I might have killed Mr Silver and left the note as a distraction. I would then have gone home and asked my valet Fenton to launder my bloody clothes. ’

Pride laughed – a tight little bark. ‘All true, Lord Edward, but, putting that aside for the moment, from what I know of you I find it quite impossible to cast you in the role of sadistic murderer.’

‘Thank you for that, Chief Inspector. Another thing – if the poor man was conscious, he would have screamed. Did no one hear him?’

‘That I will be trying to establish. At the moment, it is not at all clear what time the murder was committed. However, I have already ascertained that the building was empty last night except for a caretaker who lives in the basement and heard nothing. In any case, the murderer had stuffed Silver’s mouth with cotton wool.’

Edward shuddered. ‘Oh, my God! The man who did this must be found, Pride, before he kills again.’

‘I agree,’ the Chief Inspector said soberly. ‘And it’s you I’m worried about. I have no doubt that, by leaving your family motto at the scene of the crime, he was warning you that you would be next. Lock all the doors and don’t take risks.’

‘Thank you for those comforting words,’ Edward replied grimly. ‘I had already worked that out for myself.’ He managed a smile. ‘I prefer to look at it rather differently. The murderer has thrown down the gauntlet. He’s challenging me to find him before he finds me. I must tell you that it’s a challenge I intend to take up.’

2

‘Please sit down, Lord Edward.’ The sharply dressed young doctor indicated the chair beside Verity’s bed. ‘Miss Browne has specifically asked that you be here even though you are not a relative.’

He looked severe as though he scented immorality. Edward suspected that the doctor was rather enjoying himself though he probably didn’t realize it. He had important news to convey and Verity Browne and Lord Edward Corinth were moderately famous. Not as well known as the film star who had swallowed a bottle of barbiturates after finding her husband in bed with her co-star who just happened to be a man, but certainly of some social significance. He had mentioned to his wife that Miss Browne was under his care and that Lord Edward – who was rumoured to be her lover – was a constant visitor and she had been impressed. What was more, Lord Edward’s doctor, a man of the highest repute in Harley Street, was also present. It could do him no harm if he got a good report from Dr Clement.

‘We are engaged to be married,’ Edward said firmly, ‘but at present we wish to keep it a secret.’