The Fete of Death Page 9

  "You have been busy talking to people!" snapped Mavis, taking a sip of her tea with shaky hands.

  "It's a village. Nithercott's the same. Everyone knows everybody's life story before they've even unpacked their belongings."

  Mavis nodded.

  "Did you take your pie from the cake tent?"

  "No. I don't know where it went to. For an awful moment I thought that greedy girl Cheryl Trellan had eaten it."

  "It's a good job she didn't. It was bad enough she ate all of the muffins. But, if you didn't, who did?"

  "I've no idea. The same person who put the arsenic in it, I suppose. I did put your pie in my pie's place though. I panicked. I thought Samantha Inkler had had some kind of allergic reaction to the laxatives I'd put in the pie. Believe me, I wasn't stingy with them. I couldn't see my pie on the table - I looked, because I was going to dispose of it - quickly, but it had already gone. I saw your pie and as the fillings looked so similar and it wasn't a whole pie any more, I didn't think anyone would notice it wasn't mine unless they actually ate it, which no one would have risked doing. I only swapped it so no one would suspect my pie. If my nameplate had a pie with a blackcurrant coloured filling, they wouldn't point the finger at mine. They would have seen yours was missing and assumed that was the one that had killed her. I just thought if the pie they thought was mine had no trace of laxatives in it, they would assume she’d taken too many herself by accident. I would have been in the clear and you would have been the one under suspicion, if anyone."

  "Thanks! How long was it after Samantha Inkler had collapsed that you noticed your pie was missing?"

  Mavis thought for a few seconds.

  "Within a minute or two. Once I saw her on the floor, frothing at the mouth like that, I knew I had to get my pie out of there quick, but someone had beaten me to it."

  "Is that why you didn't say anything about it going missing?"

  "They did me a favour."

  "Did you stay in the cake tent the whole time?"

  "No, I left the tent several times to see what all the fuss was about with Adam Pinder. Anyone could have put the poison in the pie, any one of those times."

  "Did you see anyone in the cake tent who shouldn't have been there?"

  "I saw Simon Salter. He was showing great interest in the pies. He loves pies though. He likes to take the winning pie home with him and eat it for his tea. He's missed us not having fetes for a few years, but that was back when they used to dredge the river regularly so it was rare for it to burst its banks and flood his field. We also always used to hold them in summer, not October, when the weather is always wet and miserable. Mind you, the last fete we had put him off eating jam for quite some time."

  "Whose idea was it to have a cake and pie competition at the fete?"

  "Mine. I suppose that shines the spotlight on me too, doesn't it? I just... I'm a good baker. I wanted to showcase my talent, that’s all. But then, Samantha Inkler put forward her plans for selling the library and... I thought she should..."

  "Get her just deserts?"

  "Yes, exactly. But I meant the laxatives when I said that."

  "She also planned to sell the field the fete was held on, so your lovely view from your house would become bricks and mortar. Another strong motive for you to kill her."

  "And bloody solar panels! Oh, she was talking about all sorts of ugly additions to the proposed high rise flats and Bungalows, saying they were going to be for Council tenants. I'd have had every ruffian and dole grabber around, right on my doorstep!"

  "You would have lost value in your home too."

  "Yes," she mumbled.

  "And your job? You would have had to have started a new career late in life."

  "I was almost born a librarian! Right from primary school, I was most at home amongst the books. I was always the library monitor in both primary and secondary school. I couldn't be anything else. It's who I am."

  "And you also had access to books on poisons?"

  "Yes, I know, but it was Susan Smythe who took those books out. We don't see much of her in the library. Sometimes, she takes a couple of ‘Mills and Boon’ books out, but last week she took six quite technical books out on herbs and poisons. Not her usual reading matter at all. She seemed to know exactly what she was looking for too. It was strange because I've only ever seen her go to the romance section before."

  "I'm going to ask her about the books when I see her again. She was away with herself this morning, I thought it best if I gave her chance to calm down. She's upset over Adam having an affair. She wants to know who the other woman was."

  "Well don't look at me! It could have been anyone in the village. Susan Smythe doesn't live in the caravan you see, she has a flat, so he could have sneaked anyone in there at night."

  "Did you have any reason to kill Adam Pinder?"

  "Only his awful singing. I think anyone there that morning could have quite cheerfully killed him to stop that racket!"

  "It was terrible," agreed Tara. "Did you write a note to Adam Pinder that day on pink notepaper?"

  "No, I most certainly did not."

  "But you did see Samantha Inkler go into Adam Pinder's caravan?"

  Mavis muttered. "No."

  "No?"

  "She just shouted about getting the environmental health down. He went into the caravan alone."

  "Why did you say you did see her go inside the caravan then?"

  "I didn't know she was going to be murdered. I thought if I could frame her for Adam Pinder's murder, we might finally get rid of her."

  "Where did you go after the murders?"

  "Home. The weather turned very bad, very quickly and I only live across the field. I ruined my trousers and boots, but that was the least of my problems when my kitchen started to flood. I've only just sorted it out now, so I thought I'd earned myself a cream cake. The empty box of laxatives was in the kitchen bin but the police took it with them when they came for my statement," she said, sipping her tea thoughtfully.

  "When you were baking the pie, did anyone else have access to the filling? Did you leave it with anyone whilst it was in the pan, or on the side? Or even in the fridge?"

  Mavis's face unwrinkled in shock.

  "Yes! I had two visitors! Simon Salter was one. He popped round wanting to know what pie I was entering. He's partial to my pies. He said he hoped mine would win, then he would get to take it home with him," she smiled wistfully.

  "So, he's not nowty with you then? I had a run-in with him when we first arrived, and it seems he's got quite a temper on him. He certainly had a strong enough motive to kill both of them. He also had the opportunity."

  "All he cares about are his horses. If you upset him, ruin his field or threaten to take his field off him - then yes, he's a force to be reckoned with. With Simon Salter, it's best not to wake the lion. I’ve gotten to know him and his little quirks over our little impromptu meetings about the field and Samantha Inkler. He was the leader of course, of our little group and I provided the refreshments and looked up legal advice. I had to, after he almost got arrested for repeatedly turning up at Samantha Inkler's office, threatening her."

  "Do you think Simon Salter could murder someone?"

  "I think if anyone's desperate enough, they could kill someone."

  "I agree. We have to speak to him yet. That's if we get the chance. I'm hoping we can go home tomorrow."

  "The bridge?"

  "Yes."

  "It's been there for almost 200 years, I can't see it washing away just yet. We've had worse storms than that one, believe me, and it's always stood firm."

  "I hope you're right. I'd best get back to the others before they all develop stiff necks, trying to listen in," said Tara, pushing her wooden chair back on the black and white tiled floor.

  "Hang on, you said two people called round?"

  "Annabel Thompson did too."

  "Which one of them did you leave alone with the filling?" asked Tara, holding the back of her chair.


  "Both of them, but they didn't turn up together. Simon came first, then Annabel a bit later on. Neither of them stayed long. Annabel often pops by on her way home from the stables. I usually give her a slice of cake to eat on the way home."

  "Where did you go during the times when you did leave them alone?"

  "Oh, it was only for about a minute or so in either case. Simon wanted a draft letter I’d typed up for him to send into the local paper as 'Anon', to try to generate public interest in the building plans earmarked for Buttercup meadow. It was in the front room. I only had to go in the next room for it and get it off the writing desk. And later on, about an hour or so later, Annabel was in my kitchen enjoying a large slice of my apple pie I’d made the day before. She wanted it with cream so she ate it in the kitchen before she went home...ah! The phone rang whilst she was there. My cousin, Matilda. She was just checking if Bingo was still on, on Wednesday night. The phone's in the front room. It wasn't a long conversation. I can’t say that either one of them had looked guilty when I went back into the kitchen either."

  "But surely you could smell the arsenic? It's got the scent of bitter almonds."

  "I've no sense of smell. I fell out of a tree as a child and got a nasty bang to my head. I haven't been able to smell anything since."

  "How on earth do you manage to bake?"

  "It's true what they say, if you lose one sense, the others become stronger to compensate. My sense of taste is pin-point sharp. I know exactly what herbs and spices to add in exactly what quantities without the need for measuring. My tongue is my guide."

  "That's remarkable."

  "It's a gift - and a curse. If I’d have been able to smell the arsenic, Samantha Inkler would still be alive, pain that she was."

  "But why couldn't you taste the arsenic?"

  "It was already cooked to perfection by the time they both called round and I’d already added the laxatives so I wasn’t going to taste it again with all them in it. I was just letting it cool when Simon turned up. It didn't need any more sugar or lime juice adding - it didn't need tasting again. I made a start on the pastry for the pie once Annabel had left."

  "Thank you Mavis, you've been very helpful," said Tara, letting all the information she'd just gained, sink in.

  As they left the tearoom, Nancy was leaping from one foot to the other, desperate for all the juicy details.

  "Did you get a confession?" she asked.

  "More like she got her life story!" said Sally.

  "I'm thinking! Can you not just let me sort everything out in my own head first?" snapped Tara, impatiently.

  "Did she kill them, or not?" asked Molly, scuttling after Tara.

  "I don't think she did."

  "What? But she had a strong motive, opportunity...and let me remind you - it was her pie – the weapon, that poisoned Samantha Inkler." said Nancy in disbelief.

  "She's no sense of smell," said Tara, distractedly.

  "What's that got to do with anything?" asked Nancy.

  "It's got everything to do with it! It means whoever put the arsenic in the pie knew Mavis wouldn't be able to smell the bitter almond smell of the arsenic when they added it."

  "Who? Who was it then?"

  "My money's on Simon Salter." said Tara.

  Chapter Nine

  Tara had hastily given them a brief overview of all she'd learned from Mavis Poole, which they’d devoured just as greedily as they had the cream teas, on their way to Susan Smythe's flat. They'd got her address off Dana Felchar, that morning. Tara had promised to meet Susan Smythe in the pub for a drink, but as the woman was obviously an alcoholic, she didn't think that was a very good idea, so they'd decided between them that a visit to her flat 'whilst they were passing,' was the best plan all round.

  "Well, at least we can cross Mavis Poole off our suspect list. It's a shame that, I don't like her very much," said Sally.

  "She's an odd woman," agreed Tara. "I think half of that performance in the cake tent yesterday, was because she didn't want any rivals to her baking prowess. Once she realised we weren't a threat and I started flattering her baking skills, she showed a different side to her character but I still don't trust her though. I definitely think she'd lie if it meant someone else took the blame instead of her," said Tara.

  "I think she's only out for herself," said Sally.

  "That's exactly what I think too but, she had no real reason to kill Adam Pinder and although her pie was the weapon used in Samantha Inkler's murder, I believe her when she says she's no sense of smell. Either Simon Salter or Annabel Thompson could have easily added the arsenic to the filling when she’d left the room."

  "Laxatives though? Do you believe that?" asked Nancy.

  "I do. It's a shame the police have the empty box of laxatives though, it would have been a good clue for us to find. We’ll just have to take her word for it, I suppose."

  "I'll ask Dennis, see whether the autopsy found any laxatives in her system. He didn't mention it to me before though," said Nancy.

  "Well it would verify her story if they did find any laxatives in her stomach contents. If there are any in her system then it means Mavis Poole must be telling the truth. No one intent on poisoning someone with arsenic is going to bother adding laxatives to the pie as well, are they? It would be a bit pointless," said Tara.

  "Where is the pie though? I was sure she would have somehow sneaked it home to get rid of the evidence," said Molly.

  "She was going to, but someone else got there first and took it before she could manage to. They obviously took advantage of the chaos and panic in the cake tent and sneaked it out somehow without being noticed. We were all in there. None of us saw anyone carrying a pie out, did we? The poisoner must have planned it all in advance how they'd get the pie out of the tent and off the field," said Tara.

  "The police haven't found the pie either. They're working on the theory that the killer threw it out of the tent and a dog ate it, but so far, no dogs in the village have fallen ill," said Nancy.

  "Simon Salter's an animal lover, he wouldn't have done that," said Tara, remembering Mavis Poole's words.

  They were still swapping theories when they reached Susan Smythe's flat. It was a one bedroomed flat. Its front door's red paint was cracked and peeling and her curtains, although it was only 1:20 pm in the afternoon, were closed, apart from a slight kink in the centre parting where she'd obviously peeked out at someone or something after she’d closed them. Nancy knocked loudly on the door, then stepped back so Tara would be the first person Susan Smythe saw when she opened the door.

  Susan Smythe cautiously opened the door, her face pale and mottled with blotchy make-up and her eyes smudged by black eyeliner that had diluted itself with her tears. Her hair was tousled and knotted and she had a couple of ladders in her sheer black tights.

  "Ladies!" she said, croakily. "Come in, I didn't expect visitors. Excuse the mess," she said, leaving the door open for them. The flat looked as though it had just been burgled. On the walls, stuck up with blue-tac, were blown up photos of herself and Adam Pinder. Most of them had dart holes on Adam Pinder's face. Clothes were strewn all over the front room, with knickers hanging off the door handles.

  "I'm having a bit of a clear out," she said, raking her fingers through the lugs in her hair.

  "That's okay, we won't keep you long. We wanted to ask you about herbs. Poisonous herbs," said Tara, being uncharacteristically bold in her questioning of someone she barely knew, because she wanted to leave the flat as soon as possible.

  "I know a bit about them. I read some books from the library last week," said Susan Smythe, squinting.

  "Yes, that's right. Six books?"

  She nodded. "There were a lot of ‘em, heavy too. Me arms were two inches longer by the time I dropped them off. It was worth it though, for a free sandwich and a drink. Made a nice change. I can't usually afford that kind of luxury. I felt quite posh, like a lady," she said, smiling.

  "Where did you drop them off
?" asked Tara, with a growing sense of excitement.

  "The coffee shop. Annabel Thompson's mum, Sophie, has got into Chinese medicine and she wanted to start selling...what's their names?...Herbal teas. Apparently, Chinese herbs can be a bit tricky if you don't know what you're doing so she asked Annabel to go to the library and get those books out for her but she couldn't be bothered going. So, Annabel asked me to do it instead. Plus, she'd lost her library card again. I go in the library sometimes. It's so quiet, it calms my head. I only read ‘Mills and Boon’ books myself, those books gave me a headache," she said, rubbing her temples.

  "So you gave them to Annabel Thompson's mum, Sophie?"

  "No, she was at the suppliers or something, so I gave them to Annabel and she gave me the free sandwich and coffee. I made sure I picked the most expensive sandwich they had - and I had the largest coffee they sell too. It was like a bowl of soup! I enjoyed it, it was definitely worth doing that errand for. There’s a cute assistant working there, too.”

  Tara cringed.

  "Was she planning on blending the herbal teas herself?"

  "No, she was going to go to some Chinese bloke - a herbalist. She wanted the books for ideas, Annabel said," she shrugged.

  "Did anyone mention magnolia bark?"

  "No. That's a flower innit? Flowers don't have bark - trees do. Even I know that."

  "That's what Adam Pinder was poisoned with, magnolia bark."

  "He never drank herbal teas. He only ever drank beer," she snorted.

  "Someone must have spiked his beer with it. It reacts badly with alcohol. He would have been rendered helpless."

  "Hang on a minute! Are you saying?...he was poisoned and then strangled by his microphone? They didn't need to poison him as well - that's like them posh chips they cook three ways. Once is enough. Waste of time cooking ‘em two more times. When something’s cooked, it’s cooked."

  "He'd have struggled and made too much noise if he hadn't been drugged."

  "Well I didn't do it! I could have strangled him when he told me about the affair, but I didn't, I only slapped him. And just 'cause I read those library books, it doesn't mean I know enough about poisons to kill someone. Bit of a sneaky way to murder someone that is, render them helpless first. Not my style. I let rip with my fists and my tongue - not plants."