Hush Now, Don't You Cry(44)

“Now how do you know that?” He sat up, staring at me.

“I thought it might useful to find out if she was still staying in town. And I discovered that a Mr. and Mrs. Joseph had stayed one night at an inn quite near the railway station. Arrived very late and left at crack of dawn. The landlady was amazed that they’d gone without the breakfast for which they had paid.”

“Not bad for a lady detective,” he said. Then he ducked. “No, don’t hit me. I’m on my sickbed.”

“I’ll make us both a cup of tea.” I smiled as I went downstairs. It was good to see his energy returning. Maybe he would be well enough to travel in the morning. Frankly I couldn’t wait to get away. The atmosphere of this place was beginning to weigh on me. I had just put on the kettle and was cutting some bread to toast when there was a knock at the front door. I was surprised to see the police chief standing there.

“Mrs. Sullivan, I’m sorry to disturb you. Is your husband at home?” he asked.

“He is.”

“Then if I might have a word?”

“He’s been taking a rest, but if you’ll go into the sitting room, I’ll see if he feels up to receiving a guest.” I ushered him inside. As I went up to the bedroom I found Daniel already struggling into his jacket.

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” I asked.

“I want to hear what he has to say,” Daniel said. “He wouldn’t have come back if he hadn’t information on the case.”

“Maybe he’s come to arrest you as prime suspect,” I muttered.

“I think that’s highly unlikely.” He paused to examine his reflection in the dressing table mirror. “God, I look awful,” he said. He ran a comb through his hair before heading downstairs. I didn’t follow him into the sitting room, since the chief had specifically asked to speak to my husband, but I lingered at the doorway.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Chief Prescott?” I asked. “I’ve a kettle about to boil.”

“Thank you. Most kind.”

I went through to the kitchen. At least I’d have an excuse to join them when I brought in the tea tray. The kettle was boiling. I made the tea and got out an extra cup and saucer. Then I carried in the tray.

Chief Prescott looked up as I came in. “I came over because I owed your husband an apology,” he said. “I received a telegram confirming that he is indeed who he claimed to be.”

“Well, that’s nice to know,” I replied.

“And also because the two of you immediately assumed that there was more to Mr. Hannan’s death than a simple accident. It would appear you may be right. A doctor’s initial examination revealed—” He broke off. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sullivan, but this conversation is probably not something for a sensitive lady’s ears.”

Daniel laughed. “I should tell you that my wife has run her own detective business for several years and has seen more blood and gore than most men I know. I don’t think you’ll easily turn her stomach.”

“Really? Good gracious.” Chief Prescott looked at me as if I was a strange specimen at a zoo.

“I’ve sat in on an autopsy or two,” I said, not admitting that they had indeed turned my stomach.

“Very well then,” the chief said. “If you wish to stay and hear this, I’ve no objection. A preliminary analysis of the stomach contents and the blood do show the presence of alcohol, but certainly not enough to draw the conclusion that Mr. Hannan was too drunk to know what he was doing. And there is something else—our doctor thinks he detects the presence of some chemical poison in the bloodstream. He’s taken samples to the hospital in Providence where they have better means of testing, but we should know tomorrow.”

“Interesting,” Daniel said. “Poison, you say. It will depend if it turns out to be slow acting or fast acting. If it’s the former then the lethal dose could have been administered even before he left the city. That would make it much harder.”

The chief nodded. “Virtually impossible, I’d say. It could have been dropped into a cup of coffee on the train, for example.”

“Which would bring it down to motive,” Daniel said. “Who had a reason to kill him?”

“That’s why I’ve come back to see you,” Chief Prescott said. “I wondered if you could shed any insights into this matter.” He paused, looking down at the pattern on the carpet.

“You’re asking my assistance with this investigation?” Daniel asked.

“Well, not exactly. I wondered if it was more than coincidence that Mr. Hannan invited you here this weekend. Because everything I’ve heard about Mr. Hannan does not cause me to think that he was a warmhearted and generous soul who would invite a relative stranger to join his family gathering. And the fact that you are a policeman—a senior officer with the New York police—is significant. So can you shed any light on this? Did he suspect he was in danger and want protection?”