A Taste of Murder
'Hurry up and
by Sue Arengo
Level 4 Streamline Connections
(Units 41-80) 1250 headwords
1 I arrive at The Grange
'Claremont Private Nursing Agency. This is Angela
speaking. Can I help you?'
'Angela? It's Anne ... Anne Harrison. Have you got the
information about that new job?'
'Oh, hello Anne. Wait a minute ... Yes, here it is! We
need a private nurse for Mrs Kitty Blakemore.'
'Kitty Blakemore? The famous writer?'
'Yes,' said Angela. That's right. But, listen Anne, there
isn't really much wrong with her. Her heart is a little
weak, but she's not really ill. She's just a hypochondriac.'
'Oh, I see ... one of those. What's the address?'
The Grange, Kingsfield, Sussex,' said Angela. 'She
wants you to be there tomorrow morning. Good luck!'
Early next morning, I drove to Kingsfield, a pretty
little village near the sea. The Grange was just outside the
village, at the end of a private road. It was a large grey
house.
I rang the bell and waited. No one answered, so I rang
it again. At last, the door opened and a young blonde girl
appeared. She wore a dark blue dress and a white apron.
She stood there and stared at me.
'Yes?' she said.
'I'm Nurse Harrison,' I said. The nursing agency sent
me.'
'Oh, yes. Come in.'
I followed her into the hall. A tall woman, about forty
years old, was coming down the stairs.
'Nurse Harrison?' she asked. We shook hands. 'I'm
Stella Vixon, the housekeeper.'
She was quite beautiful, but also a little strange and
frightening. She was very controlled and there was
something mysterious about her eyes.
'I hope you'll be happy here,' she said. 'Charlotte will
show you to your room now.' Then she smiled at me
strangely and walked away.
I followed Charlotte up the stairs and down a long
corridor. She pushed open a door at the end.
'Here's your room,' she said.
I put down my suitcase. I waited for her to go away
but she didn't. Instead, she sat down on my bed.
'Why do you want to work in this place?' she asked.
'It's just a job,' I replied.
'Mrs Blakemore's terrible,' said Charlotte. 'She's not
really sick. She just wants to lie in bed all day and give us
orders. I don't know why her husband likes her. He's
famous too, you know. He writes wonderful music. Have
you ever heard of him? No? Well, he's lucky. He's away
at the moment. He's working in Wales. Poor us! We have
to stay here with her!'
Charlotte was talking and I was brushing my hair and
looking at her in the mirror. She took something out of
her apron pocket and examined it. Suddenly, there was a
knock at the door and she jumped off the bed. She
quickly put the thing back in her pocket. Stella Vixon
came in.
'Are you still here, Charlotte?' she said.
go downstairs. Oh ... and ... Mrs Blakemore has lost one
of her rings. It's not in her jewel box. Do you know
anything about it?'
'What do you mean? I'm not a thief!' cried Charlotte
angrily. 'I didn't take it!'
'All right,' said Miss Vixon. 'Calm down. I only said,
"Do you know anything about it?" Now hurry up and go
and do your work.'
Then she turned to me.
'If you're ready, Nurse Harrison, we'll go and see
Mrs Blakemore now.'
2 Mrs Blakemore
I followed Miss Vixon down the corridor. We went
to another part of the house. She knocked on a heavy
white door and we walked into Mrs Blakemore's
bedroom. The curtains were half closed and the room
was quite dark. A woman about fifty-five years old was
sitting up in bed.
'Is that the new nurse?' she asked in a sharp voice. I
was surprised because she really did look very white
and sick. Some bottles of medicine and bottles of pills
were on the table beside the bed. The bed itself was
covered with books, letters and half-eaten chocolates.
'Yes. This is Nurse Harrison,' said the housekeeper.
'Good,' said Mrs Blakemore. 'Now you - get out
and leave us alone.'
I was astonished. But Miss Vixon said nothing. She
just smiled politely and left the room. Mrs Blakemore
stared at me.
'You look intelligent, Nurse,' she said. These
others ... they're all useless. I'm not getting better, you
know. I'm getting worse.' A look of fear came into her
eyes. 'Do you know ... sometimes I think that someone
is poisoning me.'
'Nonsense!' I said. 'You just need some nice fresh air!'
I pulled back the curtains and opened the window.
Sunlight poured into the room. I took her temperature. It
was perfectly normal.
'Now, Mrs Blakemore,' I said. 'A nice walk in the
garden will make you feel a lot better.'
'Oh, don't be silly,' she said. 'I'm much too weak.'
At that moment, Miss Vixon opened the door and
said, 'Doctor Spencer is here.'
A short, fat man with glasses came in.
'And how's my patient today?' he asked.
'I've got a very nasty taste in my mouth, Doctor,' she
complained. 'My legs hurt and I feel sick.'
'Ah!' he said. 'But you've got a nice new nurse! What
a lucky woman you are!'
'Listen, Doctor,' said Mrs Blakemore. 'I'm not getting
better. I was sick last night.'
'Oh, dear,' said Doctor Spencer. 'You've been eating too
many chocolates!' He smiled at her and then at me.
'I'm really sick, you fool!' said Mrs Blakemore angrily.
'My dear lady,' said Doctor Spencer, gently. 'Please
don't worry. You worry too much.'
He looked at me. 'I'll just give her a little injection.
It will calm her down.' I nodded.
'She has some strange ideas,' he said. 'She's a writer,
you see.'
1
 The injection worked. Soon she was lying there
quietly. Then Doctor Spencer noticed the chocolates.
'Look! What did I say? More chocolates ... Dear ...
dear ...'
'Yes, my nephew always brings me chocolates,'
said Mrs Blakemore.
'Your nephew?'
'My nephew ... our vicar ... The Reverend John
Palmer,' she explained in a tired voice.
'Oh. So he's your nephew, is he? That's
interesting,' said the doctor. 'I didn't know that.'
'I've told you hundreds of times,' said Mrs
Blakemore. 'Your memory isn't very good, is it? Or
perhaps you just want to annoy me.'
He laughed a little nervously and he left the room.
'Useless man!' she said. Then she smiled at me
strangely. 'I've got a little joke for Doctor Spencer.'
'Have you?' I said.
'Yes. I've told him that I'm going to leave him a lot
of money in my will. When I die. But it's not true. No,
I'm not going to leave him anything.' Mrs Blakemore
laughed weakly. 'He's a useless doctor.' 'Why don't you
get a new one?' I asked. 'This isn't London, you know,'
she said. This is the country. There's only one other
doctor near here and he lives ten miles away. He's
useless, too. The world is full of useless people.' She
closed her eyes. 'Anyway, I'm leaving all my money to
my nephew.' 'But what about your husband?' 'Edward?'
Her face looked almost kind for a moment. 'Edward
doesn't want my money. He has plenty of his own. Even
this house is his. Anyway, he doesn't really care about
money. He only thinks about music.' She put another
chocolate in her mouth and ate it.
Outside, in the corridor, I met Charlotte. She was
carrying Mrs Blakemore's lunch. She took it into the
bedroom and then she showed me the way to the
kitchen. Here we all ate in silence until Bernard, the
cook, suddenly put down his knife and fork. 'What do
you think of her, then?' he asked me. 'Mrs Blakemore?
Oh, she seems all right,' I replied. 'All right?' he said.
'She's rude, selfish and mean. Do you know, she's got
lots of money... loads of it. But she always makes us use
the last little bit of everything. The last bit of milk, the
last bit of bread.'
'Well, perhaps she doesn't like to waste anything,'
I said. There was silence again.
'Mrs Blakemore thinks that someone is poisoning
her,' I said.
Bernard laughed. 'Really?' he said. 'I'm sure that
we would all like to poison her, if we could. I would
do it if I could think of a good way.'
Miss Vixon's face went white. 'Bernard!'
'Well, it's true, isn't it?' he said. 'You don't like her
either, do you?'
Miss Vixon didn't answer. Bernard went to get the
ice-cream from the fridge. He walked with some
difficulty. I saw that he had something wrong with his
left leg.
Suddenly Charlotte said to me, That's a nice ring
you have. It's a diamond, isn't it?'
'Yes,' I said. (At last the conversation had
changed!) 'I'm getting married next year. My
boyfriend's name's David and he's a sailor. He's going
to be away at sea for the next six months.'
'Oh, I'd like to get married too,' Charlotte said. 'I want
to marry a rich man. Then I can have a big house like this
and a maid.' She laughed. 'Who knows ... perhaps if Mrs
Blakemore dies, Mr Blakemore will marry me! He's a bit
old ... but he's famous and he is rich!'
'If that's a joke, Charlotte, it's not very funny,' said
Miss Vixon.
Bernard laughed again.
'Yes, Charlotte. Keep your mouth shut. Mr
Blakemore would never want to marry a silly little
girl like you.'
3 A nasty taste
After lunch, I visited my patient. She was asleep.
The plate was by the bed. She hadn't eaten very much.
'Mmm ...' I thought. 'She doesn't need all these
bottles of medicine and pills. She just needs some
vitamin tonic.' I decided to walk into the village and
buy some for her.
It was a beautiful afternoon and the village looked
very pretty. As I passed the church, I remembered that the
vicar was Mrs Blakemore's nephew. So I went inside to
have a look. It was a lovely old building, but it was in a
terrible condition. Some of the coloured glass in the
windows was broken and there were holes in the roof.
There was only one shop in Kingsfield. The woman
who owned it was busy. She was talking to a thin man
in a black suit.
'Oh dear, Vicar,' she said. 'It's going to cost a lot of
money to mend that roof.'
'Don't worry, Mrs Owen,' he said. We'll get the money.'
Then she noticed me ... a stranger. Her smile
disappeared. 'Yes?' she said.
The vicar turned round. I could see his face now. It
was a proud face, with a thin mouth and dull eyes. So,
this was Mrs Blakemore's nephew!
'Hello!' I said brightly. 'A bottle of tonic please!'
That evening, I saw Reverend Palmer again. I
had just helped Mrs Blakemore to go to her
bathroom. She wanted to wash and brush her teeth.
When he came in, I was helping her to get back into
bed. He was holding another box of chocolates.
'Ah, John, it's you! Come and sit down,' she said.
'Look! I've got a nice new nurse. She's going to make
me better.'
He looked at me but I don't think he remembered me.
'Smile, John, smile,' his aunt said. 'You're always so
serious.'
That's because I am very worried about the church,
Aunt Kitty,' he said. 'We need thousands of pounds to mend
the roof.'
'Oh, stop it,' said Mrs Blakemore. 'You're always
talking about the church. It's so boring! Come on,
Nurse, open the chocolates. My nephew needs
something to make him smile.'
But he stood up. 'No, not for me, thank you, Aunt. I
must go now. I'm very busy.'
2
 I opened the box of chocolates and gave it to Mrs
Blakemore. Then I left the room.
Outside the door, I met Charlotte. She was carrying
Mrs Blakemore's dinner.
'What's she having tonight?' I asked.
'Scrambled eggs,' said Charlotte. 'We're having
scrambled eggs, too.'
I went down to the kitchen. Bernard and Miss Vixon
were talking. When they saw me, they stopped. I sat
down. The silence was worse than at lunchtime.
Mrs Blakemore only ate half of her scrambled eggs.
'If you don't eat your food, you won't get better,' I said.
'I hate to waste things, but this tastes terrible,' she
complained. Take it away. I want a glass of hot milk.' I
went back to the kitchen and I told Bernard. 'Oh, she
always says my food tastes terrible,' he said. 'She wants
a glass of hot milk,' I told him. 'Does she?' he said.
'Well, I'm not making it for her.' 'I'll make it,' said Miss
Vixon. 'Don't worry, Nurse.
Go and watch television. I'll take it up to her.' I
watched television until nine thirty. Then I went
upstairs. 'I must brush my teeth again,' said Mrs
Blakemore.
'I've got a very nasty taste in my mouth.' I helped her
to get out of bed. 'YOU really are very weak,' I said.
Tomorrow you must eat all your food.'
'Oh, don't talk to me about food!'
I stood beside her in the bathroom. I thought she
might fall. The toothpaste was nearly finished, but she
managed to get out every last bit. She brushed her teeth
several times. I smiled. I remembered what Bernard had
said about her.
That's better,' she said. 'Get me some more
toothpaste tomorrow, Nurse. Here.' She gave me the
empty tube. This is the kind I like. They don't sell it in
the village. You'll have to drive to Hastings. My
husband usually gets it for me.'
I put the tube in my apron pocket. Then I put my
arm around her, because she was so weak. She couldn't
breathe very well. Perhaps she wasn't a hypochondriac.
Perhaps she really was ill. I felt a bit worried and I
decided to telephone Doctor Spencer the next day.
4 A suspicious death
But the following morning, there was an urgent
knock on my door. It was Stella Vixon.
'Nurse! Nurse!' she cried. 'Something terrible has
happened! Mrs Blakemore's dead!'
I stared at her. 'Dead?'
'Yes. I must go,' she said. 'I must go and telephone
Mr Blakemore at once. Oh! What am I going to say?'
Telephone Doctor Spencer, too,' I said. Then I ran
down the corridor.
Mrs Blakemore was lying with her eyes open. The
light beside her bed was still on and the curtains were
closed. The empty milk glass was on the floor. I lifted
her arm, but it was already cold. A strange, sweet smell
came from her mouth.
Charlotte appeared with the breakfast.
'Take that away,' I said. 'I'm going to call the police.'
'The police?' she whispered. 'Why?'
'I think that Mrs Blakemore has been murdered.'
I phoned the police and a moment later Doctor
Spencer arrived.
'Oh dear,' he said. 'I can't understand it. Her heart
was a little weak, but it was nothing serious. I just can't
understand it. I didn't think that she would die.'
'No, Doctor, neither did I,' I said coldly. 'But perhaps
her heart wasn't the problem. Can you smell that strange
smell? Perhaps she has been poisoned.'
'Poisoned?' His hands shook. 'You're not serious!'
'Yes, I am,' I said. 'She thought that she was being
poisoned. But I didn't believe her. She said that her legs
hurt and that she felt sick. I didn't do anything. But now
I remember. Poison can make people feel like that.'
Doctor Spencer looked at Mrs Blakemore, then at
me. Then he looked at the door. Did he want to escape?
At last, he said quietly, 'Perhaps we should telephone
the police.'
'Don't worry,' I said. 'I've already done that.'
When the police arrived, Miss Vixon brought them
in. The Inspector was wearing a dark suit; the
policewoman was in uniform.
'Inspector Braddock and Police Constable
Hemmings,' she announced.
'Ah! The police! Good!' said Doctor Spencer,
nervously. He was still looking at the door.
'Has anyone touched anything or moved anything
from the room?' asked Inspector Braddock.
'No,' said Miss Vixon.
Then he turned and looked at me. 'Are you the nurse
who telephoned us?'
'Yes,' I said. 'I'm from the nursing agency. I only
arrived here yesterday. Mrs Blakemore thought that
someone was poisoning her. But I didn't believe her.
You see, the agency told me that she was a
hypochondriac. Everyone said that she wasn't really ill.'
The policewoman picked up the empty chocolate box.
'Who gave her these chocolates?'
'Her nephew,' said Doctor Spencer. 'But you needn't
worry. He's our vicar.'
'Anyone can be a murderer,' said the Inspector
calmly. We'll take that away, Constable. We'll take those
bottles of medicine and that bottle of tonic, too.'
'There's an empty glass on the floor here, sir,' PC
Hemmings said.
'OK', said the Inspector. 'Pick it up.'
The policewoman put the things into a large plastic bag.
What did Mrs Blakemore eat last night?' the Inspector
asked.
'Scrambled eggs,' I said. 'But she only ate about half.
Bernard threw the last bit away.'
'Who's Bernard?'
'The cook.'
'I see,' said the Inspector. 'Who else works here?' 'Only
Charlotte,' said Miss Vixon. The maid.' Inspector Braddock
looked out of the window. 'Perhaps Mrs Blakemore was
poisoned,' he said. 'We don't know yet. We must wait for
the results of the autopsy. Ah! There's the ambulance.
They've come to take the body away. Now then ... is there a
Mr Blakemore?'
3
 'Yes,' said Miss Vixon. 'He's been working in Wales
for a few weeks. I've just called him. He'll be here this
evening.'
'Then we'll come back later,' said the Inspector. 'But
first, I'd like to speak to Bernard and Charlotte. Where's
the kitchen?'
I went to my room and stayed there all day. I felt
terrible. I blamed myself. But I blamed Doctor Spencer
and the nursing agency, too. Why had none of us done
anything to help her? She had been sick. She had been
really sick. And now she was dead.
5 Who is the murderer?
At about six o'clock I went downstairs. Mr
Blakemore had just arrived. Charlotte was taking his
suitcase. He was a good-looking man of about fifty,
with white hair. His face was tired and worried.
'Come into my study,' he said to Miss Vixon. 'And
tell me all about it.'
I went to the kitchen, because I wanted a sandwich.
Bernard was pouring away a bottle of milk.
'Bernard!' I said. 'What are you doing? The Inspector
doesn't want us to throw anything away.'
He turned round. 'Are you suggesting that poisoned
her? What about you? It's strange, isn't it? You arrive
here and the next day Mrs Blakemore is murdered.'
'Don't be silly,' I said. 'I don't have a motive.'
Suddenly, Stella Vixon rushed in. 'Nurse Harrison!
Quick! Can you come and see Mr Blakemore?'
When I reached his study, he was walking up and
down.
'Sit down, Mr Blakemore,' I said. 'Here, let me pour
a drink for you.'
'I want to be with her.' He was crying quietly. 'Why
can't I be with her?'
'I'm sorry,' I said. They took your wife's body away.'
He put his hands over his face.
Then Charlotte appeared at the door.
'It's the police,' she whispered. They're here again.'
They only spoke to Mr Blakemore that night. But the
next day they returned and questioned everybody. Then
the following day, a lawyer came to read the will.
Doctor Spencer and Reverend Palmer arrived to hear it
with the others. I was not invited, so I spent the
morning in my bedroom. Nothing was certain yet. But I
felt sure she had been murdered. There were three
questions: who? how? why? I made a list and tried to
work it out.
1. Was it her nephew, the Reverend John Palmer,
with his boxes of chocolates? Did he murder her for
money to repair the    village church?
2. Was it Doctor Spenser, with his medicines and
injections? Did he think that she would leave him
some money?
3. Was it Bernard, the cook? Did he poison her
food? Why did he hate Mrs Blakemore so much?
4. Was it Carlotte, the maid? Did she put    a job here, didn't she? You were dismissed from your
something into Mrs Blakemore's food? Does she think
that Mr Blakemore will marry her now?
5. Was it Stella Vixon, the housekeeper? Did she
poison the hot milk? Why does she seem so strange?
6. They all have a secret.
That afternoon, the Inspector announced: 'We now
have the results of the autopsy. Mrs Blakemore was
poisoned. She was probably given small amounts of
arsenic for some time, to make her weak. Then another
poison, cyanide, finally killed her.'
He looked around at us all. Everyone seemed
nervous and uncomfortable.
'Now then ...' he continued. 'What was the motive for
this murder? Well, money's usually a good motive.
And ... in her will, Mrs Blakemore left all her money to
her nephew. Several million pounds. Nothing to anyone
else. Nothing to her husband. This seems a bit strange.'
The Reverend John Palmer looked down at his
hands, embarrassed.
There's nothing strange about it,' said Mr Blakemore
quietly. 'Kitty always said that she was going to leave
everything to her nephew. She had no children, you see.
And she was very fond of her sister. So, when her sister
died, she decided to look after her sister's son. Anyway,
she didn't need to leave me any money. I have plenty.
And this house is all mine.'
'I see,' said the Inspector. 'Well, Vicar. Now you've
got plenty of money too, haven't you? You can mend
that church roof now, can't you?'
The Reverend Palmer's face went red, but he said
nothing.
The Inspector continued. 'PC Hemmings, please
read those lines about Doctor Spencer in the will.'
The policewoman stood up and read from the will.
'Doctor Spencer is expecting a reward. But it was only
a little joke. I am sure that he will understand.'
'So, Doctor,' said the Inspector. 'Mrs Blakemore said
that she would leave you some money, did she?'
'Well, yes . . .' The doctor was cleaning his glasses
nervously. 'A little reward, a little thank you for my help.'
'Oh, how terrible!' cried Charlotte. 'What a cruel joke!'
'If you expected some money,' said the Inspector,
'then perhaps you too had a motive for murder, Doctor.'
'Oh, really!' Doctor Spencer stood up. 'I won't listen
to any more of this. I'm a doctor, not a murderer!'
'We shall see,' said the Inspector. 'Sit down again
please, sir. Now ... Mrs Blakemore was not an easy
person to live with. Am I right? She was often very rude
and unkind. Is this correct?'
'Well,' said Mr Blakemore. 'She could be difficult
sometimes. She was an intelligent woman and she didn't
like fools.'
'But sir,' said the Inspector. 'You are an intelligent
man ... but you do not seem to be rude and unkind.'
That's because he's a nicer person than she was,' said
Charlotte hotly.
'I see.' The Inspector looked closely at her. 'You
didn't like Mrs Blakemore, did you?'
'No, I didn't,' said Charlotte angrily.
'Perhaps she didn't like you either. But she gave you
last job, because you stole things. You left without any
references. And yet Mrs Blakemore accepted you here.'
'How do you know all that?' cried Charlotte.
'We've been asking a lot of questions,' said the
Inspector. Then he turned to Bernard.
4
 Tell us something about yourself, Bernard.'
'What do you want to know?'
'How long have you known Mrs Blakemore?'
'I've worked here for four years,' he answered.
'Ah, yes, but you first met her a long time ago,'
said the Inspector. 'I've been talking to your
mother. She said she used to be Mrs Blakemore's
maid, years ago, in London.'
Bernard said nothing. He touched his bad leg and
looked unhappy.
'You remember, don't you Bernard? You were the
maid's child. A poor little boy with a damaged leg. Your
mother worked for the rich lady in the big house.'
Stella Vixon was looking at Bernard. She seemed
sorry for him.
The Inspector continued. 'You needed an operation
on your leg, didn't you? But it was too expensive. And
Mrs Blakemore wouldn't help you, would she?'
Bernard suddenly spoke. 'She was so mean!' he cried
angrily. 'My mother asked her for some money. But she
refused. Then she dismissed my mother, for no reason.'
'Yes, I know,' said the Inspector calmly. Then years
later, you came to work for Mrs Blakemore yourself.
You wanted to kill her, didn't you?'
Bernard laughed. 'I certainly hated her,' he said. 'But
at first I didn't know that it was the same woman.
Believe me, Inspector, I was surprised to see her again.
I stayed because I like the country. There are other
reasons, too.' He looked over at Charlotte with a smile,
but she looked away from him angrily.
'I'm sorry, Inspector, but I didn't kill Mrs Blakemore.
It wasn't me.'
'We shall see,' said Inspector Braddock. 'Now ...
I have a little problem. We have examined the things from
Mrs Blakemore's bedroom, but we can't find any evidence
of poison. It's very strange. She was certainly poisoned. We
found arsenic and cyanide in her stomach. But how
did they get there? Perhaps something was thrown away
before we arrived.'
I remembered that Bernard had thrown away some
milk. Was he guilty? I even began to feel guilty myself.
Inspector Braddock wrote some notes on a piece of
paper. I looked around at everyone. The Reverend Palmer
sat very straight in his seat, his lips tightly closed.
Bernard looked angry. Doctor Spencer was wiping his
face and glasses again. Charlotte looked frightened. Stella
Vixon's face was embarrassed. She was looking down at
her hands, like someone in pain. I looked quickly across
the room and noticed something. For a second, only a
second or two, Mr Blakemore lifted his head and looked
at her. There was something mysterious in his eyes.
'OK. That's all for today,' said Inspector Braddock.
'We'll come back tomorrow.'
I was worried, but I didn't know why. I had forgotten
something. But what?
Stella Vixon was very quiet during dinner. Why had
Mr Blakemore looked at her in that strange way?
7 Two unhappy women
Later, at about ten o'clock, I left my bedroom and
went down the corridor to the bathroom. On my way
back, I heard something. Someone was crying. The
noise came from Miss Vixon's room, so I knocked on
her door.
'It's me. Nurse Harrison,' I said. 'Is anything wrong?'
The handle turned and the door opened a little.
'Can I come in?' I said.
She looked terribly unhappy and her eyes were red.
'What's the matter?' I asked.
'I can't tell you,' she whispered.
'Sit down here on the bed,' I suggested. 'You're
normally so calm and controlled. What is it?'
She looked at me for a moment. Then she hid her
face in her hands.
'I didn't want her to die,' she whispered. 'She wasn't
always a very nice woman. But murder! That's terrible!'
I put my arm around her. Yes, Stella Vixon was different
from the others. She was the only one with a kind heart.
She had never said anything nasty about Mrs Blakemore.
Someone in the house might be the murderer. But it wasn't
Stella Vixon, I felt sure.
'Please,' she said. 'You must go now.'
'But will you be all right?' I was worried. She
seemed so frightened.
'Yes, go,' she said. 'I'm sorry. It's my problem.'
'Well, try to get some sleep,' I said. 'I'll see you in the
morning.'
'Yes. Thank you, Nurse. Goodnight.'
I was worried about her. Perhaps Charlotte could help.
I went along the corridor to her room and knocked.
'Charlotte? Can I come in?'
There was no reply. So I knocked again. At last she
opened the door.
'What is it?' she said sleepily.
'I need to talk to you.'
'I'm half asleep,' she complained. But she let me in.
She got back into bed. I sat down beside her.
'I've just seen Miss Vixon. She's been crying. And
she seems very frightened. Do you know why?'
'No. It's not my business. She can do what she likes.
I don't care.'
'You don't like her, do you? Why?'
She did not reply. Instead she looked bored. She
began to play with something on one of her fingers. It
was a diamond ring.
That's pretty,' I said. 'Where did you get it from?'
'It's mine,' she said quickly. Then she hid the ring
with her other hand. 'Someone gave it to me.'
'Is it one of Mrs Blakemore's rings?'
Her face went red. 'I didn't take it! He gave it to me!'
'Who gave it to you?'
She would not answer.
'Listen, Charlotte,' I said. I tried to be gentle. 'Did Mr
Blakemore give you that ring?'
She started to cry quietly, angrily. Then suddenly she
said, 'I saw them. He tried to kiss her.'
'Who?'
'I went into the study with some wood for the fire. It
was in February. I saw them.'
Charlotte's eyes became darker.
'Why did he want her?' she said to herself. She sounded
jealous.
'What? Who did you see?'
5
 'Mr Blakemore, of course!'
I tried to understand. 'Charlotte ... you went into the
study. And you saw Mr Blakemore. And he was trying
to kiss his wife? Is that right?'
'No, silly!' she cried. 'Miss Vixon!'
I stared at her in astonishment. She started to cry.
'Later, he gave me this little ring. He said, "Be a
good girl. It can be our little secret, can't it?"'
I was so shocked that I couldn't say anything. I
remembered the strange look that Mr Blakemore had
given Miss Vixon. And the look of embarrassment on
her face.
'I don't know why he wanted her,' said Charlotte.
'He wanted her to marry him. But she told him not to
be silly. He was already married.'
She looked at me sadly and dried her blue eyes.
Then I remembered something. Mr Blakemore had
cried, "I want to be with her. Why can't I be with her?"
Now I understood. He hadn't been talking about his
wife that night. He had been talking about Stella Vixon.
Tou've been a bit silly yourself, Charlotte,' I said.
'Mr Blakemore is much too old for you. One day you'll
meet the right man, I'm sure. Now go to sleep. You can
tell all this to the police tomorrow morning.'
The police!' she whispered. 'Why?' 'It may help them.'
'Will I have to give back the ring?'
'I don't know, Charlotte. Anyway, there are more
important things than your ring.'
I left her. Outside, I began to shake with fear. Did Mr
Blakemore murder his wife? No! It was impossible! He
hadn't been in the house. And yet ... perhaps there was
something I had forgotten. What was it?
8 A 'perfect' murder
Suddenly, I heard footsteps. I hid myself in the
shadows against the wall. I saw the shape of a man at
the end of the corridor. He started to come towards
me. At Stella Vixon's door, he stopped and knocked
quietly. She didn't answer, so he knocked again,
louder. He began to walk away. Then he came back.
'Stella!' he called, in a low voice. 'It's me . ..
Edward. I must speak to you. You can't refuse me. Not
now.'
He tried to open the door. But it was locked. At last,
he stopped, and went away down the corridor. I opened
Charlotte's door.
'Charlotte! Quick! Get out of bed. Lock your door.
And don't open it again to anyone tonight. Not to
anyone!'
I hurried back to my room and locked my own door too. I
was still shaking.
It was him. He had done it. Yes, Mr Blakemore had
murdered his wife! And yet... it was impossible. He had
been away in Wales. So he couldn't have done it. Or
could he? I got into bed and lay down. Perhaps he had
put the poison into something before he went away.
There was something . . . something I had forgotten
about. What was it?
I closed my eyes, but I couldn't go to sleep. My head
was full of pictures . . . pictures and voices. I saw Mr
Blakemore's face and he said, 'I'm all alone, Stella. You
can't refuse me now.' Then I saw Miss Vixon's face. Her
eyes were red and she whispered, 'I didn't want her to
die.' She looked at me and said, 'It's terrible. Someone
has murdered Mrs Blakemore!' I sat up and put the light
on again.
Midnight. It was going to be a long night. Suddenly,
a picture of Mrs Blakemore came into my head. It was
the evening of her death. She was weak and thin. I was
helping her into the bathroom. She wanted to brush her
teeth. She had a nasty taste in her mouth. Then what?
Oh yes ... she finished the toothpaste. I had to get her
some more. It was an unusual type. Her husband... her
husband usually bought it for her in Hastings!
I opened my eyes. I got out of bed and found my
uniform. I put my hand into the apron pocket. Then I
touched something hard and cold. It was the empty
toothpaste tube. Of course! Of course!
So - it had nearly been the perfect murder. Mr
Blakemore had made sure that he was away ... far away
in Wales. So no one would ever suspect him. He had put
the poison into the toothpaste. No one would ever think
of that. His wife would use it every day until it was
finished. And the empty tube? It would be thrown away.
So there would never be any evidence.
It was a large tube ... enough for several weeks.
I turned the top and took it off. Yes ... I could smell
that strange, sweet smell again.
But how did he put the poison into the toothpaste?
Injections, probably. Yes, injections of arsenic deep into
the tube, through the opening. And what about the
cyanide at the bottom? It was a long tube - too long for
most needles. I examined the tube very carefully. I was
looking for marks on the outside. Yes, there were two
very small holes in the metal, near the end.
I put the tube back in my apron pocket. It was safe
there. Now I had to wait for the morning. And the police.
I washed my hands carefully and climbed back into
bed. I tried to go to sleep. But that was impossible. Every
time I closed my eyes, I could see Mrs Blakemore in her
bathroom. She was trying to get out every last bit... every
last bit of the toothpaste. And I could hear Bernard's
voice: 'Do you know, she's so mean that she always uses
up the last little bit of everything!'
6