“Yes, sir.”
Spilsbury leaned back slightly in his chair and signalled a waiter. “Please forgive my manners. I haven’t offered you a drink. Will you have a sherry? I am having a fine dry sherry from one of the best names in Jerez. Will that do?”
Merlin nodded. “Thank you.”
The waiter hurried away.
“Now. The officer, as I guess you rightly surmised, did not die from injuries caused by being in a collapsed building. The man was already dead. Where was the building by the way?”
“Marylebone.”
“Ah, yes. Well, the cause of death was poison. Rat poison to be precise. Or to be even more precise, probably Battle’s Vermin Killer, the best-selling rodent exterminator, which, without getting too technical, is a paste laced with white phosphorous. This is, as you may imagine, highly toxic to rats and no less so to human beings.”
“I see, Sir Bernard. How—”
“Let me finish, Inspector. Death by this poison is a highly unpleasant and painful experience. In chemical terms, acid in the digestive system reacts with the phosphide to generate the toxic gas, phosphine. The process of death involves, at various stages, nausea and vomiting, delirium, cramps and various other unpleasant symptoms, and culminates in complete collapse of the central nervous system, jaundice, coma, failure of kidneys, liver and heart, and, ultimately, unsurprisingly, death.”
Merlin’s sherry arrived, but he ignored it.
“I hope I haven’t put you off your drink, Inspector.”
Spilsbury finished his and asked for another.
“Time of death, Sir Bernard?”
“The body was in a dreadful state, of course. The best I can say is some time in the three or four days before it was found.”
“I see. So any time from last Sunday or Monday. Is it possible that Kilinski consumed the poison accidentally?”
“It is possible, Inspector. This poison is frequently spread on scraps of food to attract the vermin. If Kilinski consumed such a scrap of food, even a small dose can be quite lethal. But why would he?”
“Could he have drunk it?”
“Of course. Now, Kilinski appears to have been a fit, young man, as one would expect from a serving RAF officer. Unfortunately, because of the damage done to the body caused by falling timber and masonry, it is difficult to discern whether there was any other physical violence done to him, such as might occur, for example, in the forced administration of poison. His hands and wrists were badly mangled in the collapse of the building. I thought I saw some sign of constriction on the wrists, but, really, the evidence is inconclusive.”
Merlin finally began his sherry. As part-Spaniard, he ought to like one of that country’s most famous products, but he had never really got the taste. It gave him a headache too, as did port and madeira or any other fortified wine.
“By constriction you mean as in marks caused by a rope?”
“Yes, but I cannot opine authoritatively. It is just a possibility.”
“Hmm. Well, thank you very much, Sir Bernard. Is there anything else you would like to add?”
“No, Inspector. A horrible death. Foul play is my guess. Best of luck finding the culprits. Any ideas?”
Merlin rose from the table. “A few lines of enquiry, Sir Bernard, but nothing concrete enough to share for the moment.”
Sir Bernard rose stiffly to his feet. “Quite right, Inspector. Keep your lip buttoned until you have analysed everything thoroughly. That’s what I do, you know. But when I’ve completed my analysis, I come to a view that is always correct, whatever the jury in the Brighton trunk case might think!”
*
“How is Jan, doctor?” Kowalski stood outside the RAF Northolt base hospital, anxiously biting a fingernail.
The RAF doctor was a young man who looked like he should still be in school. “Don’t worry, Mr Kowalski, he’ll live. He’s got a graze to his forehead and a bullet in his shoulder. He won’t be flying for a little bit, but he’s alright.”