Death at Apothecaries' Hall (17 page)

Serafina turned to him. ‘I am relying on you for a recitation later, Sir.'

‘You shall have one, dear lady. A sonnet, I think. “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?”'

‘You may if you wish,' Serafina answered, and everyone laughed again.

Samuel, hearing the fun, arrived to join the group, but it was already fragmenting, and John took the opportunity to move slightly away, taking the Goldsmith with him.

‘There's something odd about this case,' he murmured.

‘What's happened now?'

‘I saw the French chef this afternoon, as honest a soul as ever did a day's cooking. He is prepared to take an oath that no one went near the flour pot. For sure, the poison was added the night before.'

‘Yes, but …'

‘The Master, of all people, was sleeping in the Hall. He says that during the night he heard a noise and went down to investigate. There was nobody there but he called out to the watchman, who called back that all was well. However, and here comes the stumbling block, the watchman denies that anyone intruded. Says the Master is making it up.'

‘You surely don't believe that?'

‘No, I don't. Clearly there are two possible explanations: one is that the watchman was asleep and it was the intruder who called out; the other, that the man was bribed to keep quiet about what he saw.'

Samuel's eyes widened and he rubbed his hands together. ‘This is becoming very deep.'

‘There's something else too,' John said slowly.

‘What?'

‘I told you of Garnett Smith who has a hatred for all apothecaries?'

Samuel nodded.

‘Well, it seems that his son was betrothed to Emilia Alleyn, and that his specific loathing was for Master Alleyn.'

A series of expressions ranged over Samuel's jolly countenance. ‘The beautiful Emilia, eh? She seems to be involved at every level. And it was Master Alleyn who actually died, even though all the others were poisoned as well.'

‘Something is eluding me,' said John, shaking his head and frowning. ‘There's something I should be realising but can't quite grasp.'

Samuel looked nonplussed. ‘Well, I don't know what it is.' He took two glasses of champagne and handed one to John. ‘What's next?'

‘More visits. To the watchman, to Tobias Gill and also to Garnett Smith, God help me. And tomorrow evening I am due to question Miss Alleyn about her past.'

‘God help you with that too,' said Samuel heavily. He let his eyes roam towards Coralie. ‘What are you going to do, my friend?'

‘What do you mean?' the Apothecary asked cautiously.

‘You're in love with them both, aren't you?'

‘Of course I'm not. I hardly know Miss Alleyn.'

‘“Whoever loved who loved not at first sight.'”

‘Stop quoting at me. We've enough of that from Mr Sparks.'

‘The queer garter?' said Samuel loudly, and John died the death as the actor looked over and gave a little wave.

‘Yes, him. Now will you change the subject please. Here comes Coralie.'

It was true enough, though, John thought as he stood quietly, sipping his drink and watching his mistress chatting animatedly to his best friend. Despite her treatment of him, he loved the actress with all his heart, and yet Miss Alleyn exerted a certain spell that he couldn't deny, nor even wanted to. Truth be told, he felt quite powerless to extricate himself from the situation. So much so that rather than wrestle with the problem and spoil his evening, the Apothecary threw himself into the spirit of the soirée and temporarily put his problems behind him.

After an excellent cold collation, ending with a delicious water ice, Mr Sparks and Coralie gave a short entertainment which provoked much laughter and applause. Then the company went in to play cards. Serafina, who in the early days of her marriage, before she had settled down, had been London's notorious Masked Lady, the most cut-throat gambler of them all, promised not to play deep, much to the disappointment of Sir Gabriel, who was no poor gamester himself. The others, being less accomplished, played moderately, though intently, and it was not until after midnight that the coaches came round to take everyone home.

Dr Hensey bowed low to John. ‘My very dear friend, will you call round to see me?'

‘Are you still at the same address?'

‘Indeed I am.'

‘My recollection is that
I owe you
dinner, Sir. Would the afternoon after next be convenient? I also intend to invite Mr Clarke, who runs the shop at Apothecaries' Hall. He is most learned and the conversation could well be interesting.'

‘It most certainly would. I should be delighted. You live in Nassau Street if memory serves.'

‘Yes. At number two.'

‘Would four o'clock be convenient?'

‘Make it a little sooner and then we can have sherry before we dine.'

‘Excellent,' said Dr Hensey, and on that happy note the evening ended.

Despite the rigours of the night before, John rose early, even before his apprentice, and went off to Shug Lane as soon as he had breakfasted. Truth to tell, though he would never have admitted as much to Mr Fielding, he did feel that he was neglecting his business, particularly the compounding of special physicks and pills ordered by his regular customers, a job he would not leave in the hands of Nicholas, however capable he considered the young man to be. This task took a good hour, by which time the Muscovite had arrived for work, dusted throughout, swept the floor, then opened the shop with a cheerful grin. He was just on the point of making his Master tea, something to which John was looking forward before he set off into the cold streets, when the door opened, the bell clanged, and a man came in.

‘Is Mr Rawlings in?' John heard him ask, hidden in the compounding room as he was.

‘May I ask who wants him, Sir?'

‘Apothecary Gill. Tobias Gill.'

Much surprised, John stepped through the opening and made a bow. ‘Master Gill. To what do I owe this pleasure?'

‘I thought, Sir, to discuss the merits and demerits of various simples, that is if you can spare me the time.'

Even more surprised, John stared at him, but the older man avoided eye contact. He had really come about something else, that much was obvious.

‘Certainly, Sir. I am at your disposal. Would you care to step into the compounding room? We can be private there. My apprentice was on the point of making tea.'

Over the top of Gill's head, John winked slowly, indicating to Nicholas that he would like tea then total privacy. The Muscovite nodded briefly and made much of fiddling with the kettle. Five minutes later all was done, and the Apothecary and Tobias Gill sat opposite one another on either side of the compounding table.

‘Now,' said John, ‘exactly what simples would you like to discuss, Sir?'

Tobias Gill leant forward as if he trusted nothing and no one. ‘It's not really about that that I came,' he answered.

‘I see.'

‘It's actually about my daughter.'

‘Your daughter?' John both looked and sounded astonished.

‘Clariana. You saw her in the shop. A beautiful girl but a lonely one.'

The Apothecary could hardly believe his ears, wondering what the old man could possibly be on the point of suggesting.

‘She lacks the company of people her own age,' Gill continued.

John, fearing the worst, could only answer, ‘Oh.'

‘So I wondered, Mr Rawlings, if you might come to dine with us. It would do her good to talk to a contemporary.'

‘Has she no friends at all?' asked John, vividly recalling Samuel's description of her behaviour with Francis Cruttenden.

Gill pulled a face, obviously hesitating on the brink of saying something. ‘Well …'

The Apothecary decided to help him. ‘Might she be involved with someone unsuitable perhaps?'

The floodgates opened. ‘That is just the point, Sir. She is infatuated with a man twice her age and more. She considers herself deep in love with him. As for me, I hate him. He is one of the Liverymen of that accursed Society of Apothecaries with its beastly Court of Assistants.'

‘Is that the only reason you think him wrong for her?'

‘Of course not. Even I, who dislike their hierarchy right well, would not be quite so narrow. No, Mr Rawlings. I do not trust the fellow. There's something about Master Cruttenden that I find quite sinister. Yes, that is the correct word. Sinister.'

John sat silently, wondering how much he should say, and decided on very little.

‘I know him, of course. I must admit that he is not the sort of man of whom I would like to make a close friend.'

Mr Gill positively seethed. ‘He is hateful, detestable. I am sure he is making my poor daughter fall in love with him.'

Almost the same words used by Mrs Alleyn, John thought. He smiled sympathetically. ‘I will gladly come to dine with you if you think it will do any good, but quite honestly, Mr Gill, I met Clariana in the shop when I came to question you about the murder of Master Alleyn and I received the strong impression that she didn't like me at all.'

‘That is because she is being controlled. Her thoughts are no longer her own.'

‘Then if I can assist in any way, I will.' John paused, then said, ‘Mr Gill, have you told me everything you know about the death of Master Alleyn?'

‘Of course I have. I was in my shop all day on the occasion of the Livery Dinner. Indeed I didn't even know about it until you, Sir, drew my attention to the fact. Many people saw me on my premises, I can assure you.'

‘I think I mentioned to you that the investigation is also focusing on the night before the Dinner. Did you not say that you were with Clariana all the evening?'

‘Yes.'

‘But after she retired, surely you could have slipped out for a while?'

‘I could have, but I didn't. Please don't annoy me, Sir.'

‘I'm sorry. I really don't mean to do so. It is just that it is my duty to pursue every possibility.'

‘Why are you interested in that particular night? What is your theory?'

‘That someone either crept past or bribed the night-watchman, then stole into the kitchen and poisoned the flour.'

Tobias Gill looked triumphant. ‘Then you can rest assured that it wasn't me.'

‘Why?'

‘I told you that I vowed never to set foot in that damnable place again, and I have stuck to that vow. I would not sully my shoes with their cobblestones.'

It was said with such an air of finality that it left the Apothecary little choice but to accept the statement at face value. Yet how odd that the thread led yet again to Francis Cruttenden and, indirectly, Josiah Alleyn.

John adopted his honest citizen expression. ‘When would you like me to dine, Sir?'

‘Tomorrow?'

‘No, I am entertaining.'

‘Then the next day?'

‘That would be very convenient. What time shall I call?'

‘Four o'clock at Pudding Lane. I shall make sure that Clariana is there.' Tobias Gill bowed. ‘Thank you for helping someone you know hardly at all.'

Knowing that the occasion would provide him with a great deal of information, John felt a pang of guilt. ‘I look forward to the meeting with a great deal of pleasure.'

Mr Gill turned in the doorway. ‘It should have been that wretch Cruttenden who died. Not the other poor fellow.'

This said, he set off down the street at speed, leaving John with the strong impression that Apothecary Gill would be more than capable of murder if the necessity should so arise.

It was busy on Timber Wharf that noon. A large vessel was in, unloading its cargo, and the place was crammed with people, scurrying about in what appeared to be a completely chaotic manner. In fact though, John soon realised, every man knew exactly what he was doing, hauling and swearing and heaving as he loaded timber onto the waiting carts or stored wood in orderly heaps inside the warehouse.

It was difficult in a scene of such intense, sweating, good-natured activity to attract any attention at all, but eventually, after searching the crowd with his eyes, looking for the watchman, John managed to get a word with a burly workman pausing momentarily for a breath. ‘Is George Griggs here today, do you know?'

‘'e could be, cove. Can't say I've seen 'im though.'

‘Is it like him not to turn up?'

‘No, 'e's better than most, not getting too drunk of a night because of his other job.'

‘Then I'd better try a closer look.'

Attempting to weave his way through the mob proved both difficult and dangerous, however. The workmen stopped for nothing and no one, and after nearly being brained by a piece of passing planking, the Apothecary thought better of it and retired to the sidelines. Another visual search still revealed no sign of the missing Griggs, and, with the first faint whiff of something not quite as it should be, John made his way to the watchman's lodging house.

The handing over of a coin allowed him access to Griggs's room, a smelly, mucky pit if ever he had seen one. But an inspection of the noisesome heap which passed for a bed, difficult though it was to tell from the various grimy indentations which looked as if they had been there for years, proved that it had not been slept in recently.

Slightly alarmed now, John made his way to Apothecaries' Hall and to the pantry of Jane Backler.

He came straight to the point. ‘I'm looking for George Griggs, the watchman. Did he report for duty last night?'

‘No, he did not. The Master, who was here late again, persuaded a member of the watch to take over. He is threatening Griggs with the sack.'

‘That is if he can find him.'

‘What's that?'

‘Griggs has gone missing,' John answered tersely, the certainty that something was wrong growing with every second.