1 I arrive at The Grangelaremont Private Nursing Agency. This is Angelaspeaking. Can I help you?'

'Angela? It's Anne . . . Anne Harrison. Have you got theinformation about that new job?'

'Oh, hello Anne. Wait a minute . . . Yes, here it is! Weneed 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 littleweak, 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 littlevillage near the sea. The Grange was just outside thevillage, at the end of a private road. It was a large greyhouse.

I rang the bell and waited. No one answered, so I rangit again. At last, the door opened and a young blonde girlappeared. She wore a dark blue dress and a white apron.She stood there and stared at me.

1

'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 wassomething mysterious about her eyes.

'I hope you'll be happy here,' she said. 'Charlotte willshow you to your room now.' Then she smiled at mestrangely and walked away.

I followed Charlotte up the stairs and down a longcorridor. 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

2

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 giveus orders. I don't know why her husband likes her. He'sfamous too, you know. He writes wonderful music. Haveyou ever heard of him? No? Well, he's lucky. He's awayat the moment. He's working in Wales. Poor us! Wehave to stay here with her!'

Charlotte was talking and I was brushing my hair andlooking at her in the mirror. She took something out ofher apron pocket and examined it. Suddenly, there wasa knock at the door and she jumped off the bed. Shequickly put the thing back in her pocket. Stella Vixoncame in.

'Are you still here, Charlotte?' she said. 'Hurry up andgo downstairs. Oh . . . and . . . Mrs Blakemore has lostone of her rings. It's not in her jewel box. Do you knowanything about it?'

'What do you mean? I'm not a thief!' cried Charlotteangrily. '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 goand do your work.'

Then she turned to me.'If you're ready, Nurse Harrison, we'll go and see

Mrs Blakemore now.'

3

2 Mrs BlakemoreI followed Miss Vixon down the corridor. We went toanother part of the house. She knocked on a heavy

white door and we walked into Mrs Blakemore'sbedroom. The curtains were half closed and the roomwas quite dark. A woman about fifty-five years old wassitting 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 pillswere on the table beside the bed. The bed itself wascovered 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, youknow. I'm getting worse.' A look of fear came into hereyes. 'Do you know .. . sometimes I think that someoneis 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.

4

'Now, Mrs Blakemore,' I said. 'A nice walk in thegarden 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.

5

'My dear lady,' said Doctor Spencer, gently. 'Pleasedon't worry. You worry too much.'

He looked at me. 'I'll just give her a little injection. Itwill calm her down.'

I nodded.'She has some strange ideas,' he said. 'She's a writer,

you see.'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.

Tour memory isn't very good, is it? Or perhaps you justwant 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'mnot going to leave him anything.' Mrs Blakemore

6

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 helives ten miles away. He's useless, too. The world is fullof useless people.' She closed her eyes. 'Anyway, I'mleaving 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 reallycare 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 wascarrying Mrs Blakemore's lunch. She took it into thebedroom and then she showed me the way to thekitchen. Here we all ate in silence until Bernard, thecook, 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 shealways 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,' Isaid.

There was silence again.

7

'Mrs Blakemore thinks that someone is poisoningher,' I said.

Bernard laughed. 'Really?' he said. 'I'm sure that wewould all like to poison her, if we could. I would do it ifI 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 somedifficulty. I saw that he had something wrong with his leftleg.

Suddenly Charlotte said to me, 'That's a nice ring youhave. 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'sDavid and he's a sailor. He's going to be away at sea forthe next six months.'

'Oh, I'd like to get married too,' Charlotte said. 'I wantto marry a rich man. Then I can have a big house likethis and a maid.' She laughed. 'Who knows . . . perhapsif 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,' saidMiss Vixon.

Bernard laughed again.'Yes, Charlotte. Keep your mouth shut. Mr Blakemore

would never want to marry a silly little girl like you.'

8

3 A nasty taste

After lunch, I visited my patient. She was asleep. Theplate was by the bed. She hadn't eaten very much.

'Mmm . . . ' I thought. 'She doesn't need all thesebottles of medicine and pills. She just needs somevitamin tonic.' I decided to walk into the village and buysome for her.

It was a beautiful afternoon and the village lookedvery pretty. As I passed the church, I remembered thatthe vicar was Mrs Blakemore's nephew. So I went insideto have a look. It was a lovely old building, but it was ina terrible condition. Some of the coloured glass in thewindows was broken and there were holes in the roof.

There was only one shop in Kingsfield. The woman whoowned it was busy. She was talking to a thin man in ablack suit.

9

'Oh dear, Vicar,' she said. 'It's going to cost a lot ofmoney 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. Shewanted to wash and brush her teeth. When he came in,I was helping her to get back into bed. He was holdinganother 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 tomend the roof.'

'Oh, stop it,' said Mrs Blakemore. 'You're alwaystalking about the church. It's so boring! Come on, Nurse,open the chocolates. My nephew needs something tomake him smile.'

But he stood up. 'No, not for me, thank you, Aunt. Imust go now. I'm very busy.'

I opened the box of chocolates and gave it to MrsBlakemore. Then I left the room.

Outside the door, I met Charlotte. She was carryingMrs 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 satdown. 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.'

10

'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 wentupstairs.

'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.'

11

'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 shemanaged to get out every last bit. She brushed her teethseveral times. I smiled. I remembered what Bernardhad said about her.

'That's better,' she said. 'Get me some more toothpastetomorrow, 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 usuallygets it for me.'

I put the tube in my apron pocket. Then I put my armaround her, because she was so weak. She couldn'tbreathe very well. Perhaps she wasn't a hypochondriac.Perhaps she really was ill. I felt a bit worried and Idecided to telephone Doctor Spencer the next day.

4 A suspicious death

But the following morning, there was an urgent knockon my door. It was Stella Vixon.

'Nurse! Nurse!' she cried. 'Something terrible hashappened! 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-wereclosed. The empty milk glass was on the floor. I lifted herarm, but it was already cold. A strange, sweet smellcame 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'tunderstand it. I didn't think that she would die.'

'No, Doctor, neither did I,' I said coldly. 'But perhapsher heart wasn't the problem. Can you smell that strangesmell? Perhaps she has been poisoned.'

13

'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 legshurt and that she felt sick. I didn't do anything. But nowI 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? Atlast, he said quietly, 'Perhaps we should telephone thepolice.'

'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 policewomanwas 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 anythingfrom 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 thoughtthat someone was poisoning her. But I didn't believeher. You see, the agency told me that she was ahypochondriac. Everyone said that she wasn't really ill.'

The policewomanpicked up the emptychocolate box.

'Who gave herthese chocolates?'

'Her nephew,' saidDoctor Spencer. 'Butyou needn't worry.He's our vicar.'

'Anyone can be amurderer,' said theInspector calmly.'We'll take that away,Constable. We'll takethose bottles ofmedicine and thatbottle of tonic, too.'

'There's an emptyglass on the floorhere, 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.'

14 15

'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 theautopsy. Ah! There's the ambulance. They've come totake the body away. Now then ... is there a Mr Blakemore?'

'Yes,' said Miss Vixon. 'He's been working in Wales fora few weeks. I've just called him. He'll be here thisevening.'

'Then we'll come back later,' said the Inspector. 'Butfirst, I'd like to speak to Bernard and Charlotte. Where'sthe kitchen?'

I went to my room and stayed there all day. I feltterrible. I blamed myself. But I blamed Doctor Spencerand the nursing agency, too. Why had none of us doneanything to help her? She had been sick. She had beenreally sick. And now she was dead.

5 Who is the murderer?

A t about six o'clock I went downstairs. Mr Blakemorehad just arrived. Charlotte was taking his suitcase.

He was a good-looking man of about fifty, with whitehair. His face was tired and worried.

'Come into my study,' he said to Miss Vixon. 'And tellme all about it.'

16

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 Inspectordoesn't want us to throw anything away.'

He turned round. 'Are you suggesting that I poisonedher? What about you? It's strange, isn't it? You arrivehere 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 thenext day they returned and questioned everybody. Thenthe following day, a lawyer came to read the will. DoctorSpencer and Reverend Palmer arrived to hear it withthe others. I was not invited, so I spent the morning inmy bedroom. Nothing was certain yet. But I felt sure shehad been murdered. There were three questions: who?how? why? I made a list and tried to work it out.

6 They all have a secret

That afternoon, the Inspector announced: 'We nowhave the results of the autopsy. Mrs Blakemore was

poisoned. She was probably given small amounts ofarsenic for some time, to make her weak. Then anotherpoison, cyanide, finally killed her.'

He looked around at us all. Everyone seemed nervousand uncomfortable.

'Now then ...' he continued. 'What was the motive forthis murder? Well, money's usually a good motive.And . . . in her will, Mrs Blakemore left all her money toher nephew. Several million pounds. Nothing to anyoneelse. 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 Blakemorequietly. 'Kitty always said that she was going to leaveeverything to her nephew. She had no children, yousee. And she was very fond of her sister. So, when hersister died, she decided to look after her sister's son.Anyway, she didn't need to leave me any money. I haveplenty. And this house is all mine.'

'I see,' said the Inspector. 'Well, Vicar. Now you'vegot plenty of money too, haven't you? You can mendthat church roof now, can't you?'

The Reverend Palmer's face went red, but he saidnothing.

19

The Inspector continued. 'PC Hemmings, please readthose 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 onlya little joke. I am sure that he will understand.'

'So, Doctor,' said the Inspector. 'Mrs Blakemore saidthat she would leave you some money, did she?'

'Well, yes . . . ' The doctor was cleaning his glassesnervously. '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 againplease, sir. Now . . . Mrs Blakemore was not an easyperson to live with. Am I right? She was often very rudeand unkind. Is this correct?'

'Well,' said Mr Blakemore. 'She could be difficultsometimes. She was an intelligent woman and she didn'tlike fools.'

'But sir,' said the Inspector. 'You are an intelligentman . . . but you do not seem to be rude and unkind.'

'That's because he's a nicer person than she was,' saidCharlotte hotly.

'I see.' The Inspector looked closely at her. 'You didn'tlike Mrs Blakemore, did you?'

'No, I didn't,' said Charlotte angrily.'Perhaps she didn't like you either. But she gave you

a job here, didn't she? You were dismissed from your lastjob, because you stole things. You left without anyreferences. 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.'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 sheused to be Mrs Blakemore's maid, years ago, in London.'

21

Bernard said nothing. He touched his bad leg andlooked unhappy.

'You remember, don't you Bernard? You were themaid's child. A poor little boy with a damaged leg. Yourmother worked for the rich lady in the big house.'

Stella Vixon was looking at Bernard. She seemedsorry for him.

The Inspector continued. 'You needed an operationon your leg, didn't you? But it was too expensive. AndMrs Blakemore wouldn't help you, would she?'

Bernard suddenly spoke. 'She was so mean!' he criedangrily. 'My mother asked her for some money. But sherefused. Then she dismissed my mother, for no reason.'

'Yes, I know,' said the Inspector calmly. 'Then yearslater, you came to work for Mrs Blakemore yourself.You wanted to kill her, didn't you?'

Bernard laughed. 'I certainly hated her,' he said. 'Butat first I didn't know that it was the same woman. Believeme, Inspector, I was surprised to see her again. I stayedbecause I like the country. There are other reasons,too.' He looked over at Charlotte with a smile, but shelooked 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 . . . Ihave a little problem. We have examined the things fromMrs Blakemore's bedroom, but we can't find anyevidence of poison. It's very strange. She was certainly

22

poisoned. We found arsenic and cyanide in her stomach.But how did they get there? Perhaps something wasthrown away before we arrived.'

I remembered that Bernard had thrown away somemilk. Was he guilty? I even began to feel guilty myself.

Inspector Braddock wrote some notes on a piece ofpaper. I looked around at everyone. The ReverendPalmer sat very straight in his seat, his lips tightlyclosed. Bernard looked angry. Doctor Spencer waswiping his face and glasses again. Charlotte lookedfrightened. Stella Vixon's face was embarrassed. Shewas looking down at her hands, like someone in pain. Ilooked quickly across the room and noticed something.For a second, only a second or two, Mr Blakemore liftedhis head and looked at her. There was somethingmysterious 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 forgottensomething. But what?

Stella Vixon was very quiet during dinner. Why hadMr Blakemore looked at her in that strange way?

7 Two unhappy women

L ater, at about ten o'clock, I left my bedroom andwent down the corridor to the bathroom. On my

way back, I heard something. Someone was crying. Thenoise came from Miss Vixon's room, so I knocked onher 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

24

different from the others. She was the only one with akind heart. She had never said anything nasty aboutMrs Blakemore. Someone in the house might be themurderer. 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. Itwas a diamond ring.

25

'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.

26

'What? Who did you see?''Mr Blakemore, of course!'I tried to understand. 'Charlotte . . . you went into the

study. And you saw Mr Blakemore. And he was tryingto 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 hadgiven Miss Vixon. And the look of embarrassment onher face.

'I don't know why he wanted her,' said Charlotte. 'Hewanted her to marry him. But she told him not to besilly. He was already married.'

She looked at me sadly and dried her blue eyes. ThenI remembered something. Mr Blakemore had cried, "Iwant to be with her. Why can't I be with her?" Now Iunderstood. He hadn't been talking about his wife thatnight. He had been talking about Stella Vixon.

'You've been a bit silly yourself, Charlotte,' I said. 'MrBlakemore is much too old for you. One day you'll meetthe right man, I'm sure. Now go to sleep. You can tell allthis to the police tomorrow morning.'

'The police!' she whispered. 'Why?''It may help them.''Will I have to give back the ring?'

27

'I don't know, Charlotte. Anyway, there are moreimportant things than your ring.'

I left her. Outside, I began to shake with fear. Did MrBlakemore murder his wife? No! It was impossible! Hehadn't been in the house. And yet . . . perhaps therewas something I had forgotten. What was it?

8 A 'perfect' murder

Suddenly, I heard footsteps. I hid myself in theshadows against the wall. I saw the shape of a man

at the end of the corridor. He started to come towardsme. At Stella Vixon's door, he stopped and knockedquietly. 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 openedCharlotte'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 doortoo. I was still shaking.

It was him. He had done it. Yes, Mr Blakemore hadmurdered his wife! And yet . . . it was impossible. He hadbeen away in Wales. So he couldn't have done it. Orcould he? I got into bed and lay down. Perhaps he hadput the poison into something before he went away.There was something . . . something I had forgottenabout. What was it?

I closed my eyes, but I couldn't go to sleep. My headwas full of pictures . . . pictures and voices. I saw MrBlakemore's face and he said, 'I'm all alone, Stella. Youcan't refuse me now.' Then I saw Miss Vixon's face. Hereyes were red and she whispered, I didn't want her todie.' She looked at me and said, 'It's terrible. Someonehas murdered Mrs Blakemore!' I sat up and put thelight on again.

Midnight. It was going to be a long night. Suddenly, apicture of Mrs Blakemore came into my head. It was theevening of her death. She was weak and thin. I washelping her into the bathroom. She wanted to brushher teeth. She had a nasty taste in her mouth. Thenwhat? Oh yes . . . she finished the toothpaste. I had to gether 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 myuniform. I put my hand into the apron pocket. Then Itouched something hard and cold. It was the emptytoothpaste tube. Of course! Of course!

So - it had nearly been the perfect murder. MrBlakemore had made sure that he was away . . . far awayin Wales. So no one would ever suspect him. He hadput the poison into the toothpaste. No one would everthink of that. His wife would use it every day until itwas finished. And the empty tube? It would be thrownaway. So there would never be any evidence.

It was a large tube . . . enough for several weeks.

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I turned the top and took it off. Yes . . . I could smell thatstrange, sweet smell again.

But how did he put the poison into the toothpaste?Injections, probably. Yes, injections of arsenic deep intothe tube, through the opening. And what about thecyanide at the bottom? It was a long tube - too long formost needles. I examined the tube very carefully. I waslooking for marks on the outside. Yes, there were twovery small holes in the metal, near the end.

I put the tube back in my apron pocket. It was safethere. Now I had to wait for the morning. And the police.

I washed my hands carefully and climbed back intobed. I tried to go to sleep. But that was impossible.Every time I closed my eyes, I could see Mrs Blakemorein her bathroom. She was trying to get out every lastbit . . . every last bit of the toothpaste. And I could hearBernard's voice: 'Do you know, she's so mean that shealways uses up the last little bit of everything!'