The Memory of Blood(84)

‘You had no reason to be suspicious then,’ Longbright reminded him.

At six-thirty P.M. he came down to find her. ‘You were right. It’s in the bread,’ he said.

‘The bread wasn’t in the shopping bag I gave you.’

‘No, it was in the shopping bag originally, and she took it out to make a sandwich. I just had the remains of the loaf brought over from the house. It was still in her mother’s cupboard, untouched. The cut on Anna’s finger was incidental. She ingested poison. Not tetanus but strychnine. It’s quite similar in chemical structure. Hendrick wouldn’t have expected to test for that. He went with the most likely cause of death.’

‘We should call the supermarket and warn them.’

‘No, I mean it’s in the bread. Injected into it. I found a pinprick in the plastic covering that corresponds to a mark on the crust, both with traces of poison. It got to her internally. Anna Marquand had a bleeding ulcer. The poison killed her in a fairly short space of time. So I think you can call Giles and tell him the cause of death was strychnine poisoning. The mugger took the bag and returned it with a lethal addition.’

‘This is much bigger than a mugging,’ said Longbright. ‘The girl in the house, the man in the alley. There are others involved.’





Maggie Armitage, Grand Order Grade IV White Witch of the Coven of St James the Elder, Kentish Town, was having problems of her own. ‘We’ve got sprites,’ she complained as she opened the door to Arthur Bryant. ‘Come in but be careful. They’re everywhere, getting into the cupboards and breaking things. They’re especially fond of custard.’

‘Are you talking about mice?’ said Bryant, checking to see if he’d brought his hearing aid. He rarely used it in the PCU building because it kept picking up old episodes of Hancock’s Half Hour, which was very distracting.

‘No, these are white and made of discarded ectoplasm, but they have little legs and can really shift. They appeared after a séance and now we can’t get rid of them. I can’t see them but Daphne swears she can, ever since her accident. She says they moved into the back of the television, but something has repelled them. The poor quality of programmes, I imagine. Perhaps they don’t like Simon Cowell. It’s nice to see you, give me a kiss.’

Bryant proffered his cheek and received a lipstick brand.

‘How are you getting on in your new building? Had any manifestations yet?’

‘What of?’

‘Oh, the usual things that get left behind after a séance. Spirit dregs. Every building keeps a ghost imprint of its past, and for over a decade yours was full of people contacting the dead, so you must have all sorts of things floating about in there. Don’t you hear strange noises at night?’

‘All the time, but I think it’s mostly Raymond swearing.’

‘The signs of manifestation include speaking in tongues, the gift of prophecy and damage to skirting boards,’ said Maggie. ‘I’ll come over with my thermal scanner one evening. I suppose you’re here wanting information. There was a time when you’d pop by for my banana trifle, but these days you just use me as a resource.’

‘I’ll have some trifle if it’s going, but I do have a question for you. Do you know anything about stage magic, how the effects are achieved?’

‘A fair bit. Shakespeare was a dab hand, Banquo’s ghost pointing an accusing finger at his killer, that sort of thing. Early melodramas often materialised pale, melancholy figures from behind folding doors. Sometimes they burst sachets of blood under their white gowns. But I think the Victorians did it best. They had phantasmagoria, magic lantern shows which projected images of the dead onto smoke, looming menacingly over the spectators. And in 1863 there was Pepper’s ghost, of course.’

‘What was that?’

‘Oh, that was a marvelous effect, by all accounts. Professor John Pepper lit a sheet of glass so that it looked like people were walking through walls and gliding across the set. Thanks to the illusion, the London stage was soon awash with disappearing ladies, dancing skeletons and babbling severed heads. And they came up with something called the “ghost glide.” An actor would ascend through the floor of the stage, moving forward without taking a single step. Of course, most mediums were more like stage magicians than real psychics. Why do you want to know?’

‘We’re dealing with a very peculiar case.’

‘Well, that is your remit, isn’t it? The peculiar?’

‘It was never meant to be,’ Bryant admitted. ‘Anyway, it’s not why I’m here. I have another problem. I need you to hypnotize me. I have to recall something I’ve forgotten.’