“There is,” Joseph said. “Mrs. McCreedy will show you.”
“Go and telephone headquarters and have Rawlins brought out here,” Prescott said.
The constable he was talking to looked alarmed. “I ain’t never actually used a telephone, sir,” he said.
“It’s not hard, man. You just pick up the receiver and speak into it. Ask the operator to connect you with the police station. Go on. Get on with it.”
As we were coming away from the shed the automobile arrived, with Parsons, the head gardener, and one other gardener sitting in the backseat. My friendly fellow was missing.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the police constable said as he climbed out of the auto, “but the other man, Ted Hemmings, was out fishing today. We’ve left word that he’s to come here as soon as he gets back.”
“No matter,” Prescott said. “Which one of you is the head gardener?”
“That would be me, sir.” Parsons stepped forward. “Frank Parsons, sir.”
“We’ve just discovered a jar containing prussic acid in your garden shed. Can you tell me whether you knew it was there and what it might have been used for?”
“Knew it was there? Of course I knew it was there. I was the one who bought it,” Parsons said. I noticed his temperament had not improved since the last time I saw him. “I got it last year when we had a wasp’s nest in that big cedar tree and Mr. Hannan told me to get rid of it before the family came for the summer.”
“So the prussic acid has been up there on the shelf for anybody to see?” Chief Prescott asked.
Parsons gave him a withering look. “I don’t know about that. Who’d come in the shed except for the other gardeners?”
“This young man came in yesterday morning to find fishing tackle,” Prescott said, indicating Sam. “And I now know that Mr. Hannan kept a private supply of whiskey and gin in that little cupboard under the counter. So I suppose any number of people might have spotted the prussic acid on the shelf.”
“Up there on the top shelf? You’d have to be tall and poking around where you’ve no business to be in order to spot it among all the other garden things up there.”
“This presents a sobering thought, doesn’t it?” Prescott turned back to look at us. “It means that we can narrow the list of suspects, most likely to someone who is now present.”
Twenty-three
I saw a swift glance pass among those standing outside the shed. Irene shuddered and drew her shawl around her.
“Preposterous,” Joseph said.
“And not necessarily,” I added. “An outsider could have come prepared and brought his own cyanide with him. It may be a complete coincidence that you’ve found some on the shelf.”
“My thoughts precisely,” Archie said, nodding heartily. “This sounds to me like a well-planned crime. We had all only just arrived when it happened. The murderer would not have waited on the supposition that the jar containing the poison was still on that shelf. It could have been thrown out or used while we were absent.”
My estimation of Archie Van Horn rose. Until now I had thought him one of those not-too-bright sons of the Four Hundred.
“Well, we’ll know soon enough, sir. We’ll be sending this jar to look for fingerprints on it, and we’ll be taking fingerprints from everyone here.”
“What do you mean, ‘taking fingerprints’?” Mrs. Flannery’s voice trembled.
“Nothing to worry about, ma’am. Unless you’re guilty, that is. It’s simply a matter of pressing your fingertips onto a pad of ink and then pressing the inky fingers onto a sheet of paper. As simple as that. Now I suggest you all go into the house so that my men know where to find you. I want another word with the gardeners. Oh, and nobody is to think of leaving the area at this juncture. Nobody.”
“We have a business to run, man,” Joseph said. “Do use a little common sense. Why would I have wanted to kill my brother when we had been so successful together?”
“And I could never do a terrible thing like that,” Mary Flannery said. “Poison my own dear brother? Never. None of us would. We respected him and we loved him.”
“Then you have nothing to upset yourself about, ma’am. If your fingerprints don’t show up on that jar or packet, we can assume that none of you is guilty and you’ll all be free to leave.”
One by one they started to drift away. I touched Prescott on the sleeve. “I have to get back to my husband,” I said. “I’ve already left him long enough as it is. But I’ll be in the cottage if you want me.”