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words. He seemed to be the sort of man who went through life tightly wound, choosing every word
and mannerism to create a specific impression. But Trevor had noticed that when these careful men
finally dropped their guard, they often became the most readily confessional of all. Now Everlee
wandered over to the small window and looked out of it, turning his back to the detectives.
“Because of the bird and the nature of mother’s death,” he said, “Benson already suspected poison.
So he walked straight to the kitchen and picked up everything he could find that might relate. And
there was a tree in the garden that intrigued him as well, although I can’t say why.”
“He was ahead of us in every way,” Trevor murmured and Rayley nodded. This one
man had found as much as the lot of them all together. Benson must have been good at his job before
the Yard sacked him.
Everlee remained turned to the window. “I don’t know entirely what theory he was
working on. He preferred not to share ideas before he was certain, he said. Did not want to falsely
raise a client’s hopes. But I suspect that chart represents his efforts to ascertain how much poison it
would take to kill people of various sizes. A small amount for a bird, more of course for a human…”
“Ah, then this bit about eight stone makes sense,” Rayley said. “Your mother was a
small woman?” He could not quite bring himself to admit to Everlee that he himself had gazed upon
her ravaged body, that he knew her to have been no heavier than a girl.
The man at the window nodded.
“About eight stone?”
“If that.”
“But Benson’s notes read Too much for eight stone. Fourteen?” Rayley said, with a
glance down at the notebook. “Something he found in the dropper must have indicated that the dosage
was higher than it would have taken to kill a small woman. Fourteen stone…that is enough for a very
large man.”
“I suppose,” Everlee said, turning at last to look at the two detectives, who were still
sitting shoulder to shoulder on the bed. “But I never understood what difference any of that would
make. Why would a killer bother to compute dosage and use a dropper with the care of a physician?
If I were going to poison someone I would give them a great amount to make sure the job was done.”
“Indeed,” said Rayley. “And that would be fine if you intended to kill them in their
beds. But if you wished to give them just enough poison to bring on a delayed reaction – to give them
time to be far from your house when they died….”
“Ah,” said Everlee. “Yes, I see. Our killer did not only wish to kill but to make it seem
that the death was from natural causes. At mother’s age heart failure would not attract comment,
especially if her collapse was witnessed by any number of people at the Byculla Club.”
“Quite,” said Rayley, “but the plan went awry when Sang died too. Do you have any
notion why her manservant might have taken your mother’s medication?”
“None.”
“Laudanum is highly addictive,” Trevor said, pushing up from the bed and moving
aimlessly across the room before finally coming to rest against the doorframe.
Everlee considered this with narrowed eyes. “What are you suggesting?”
“Only that not everyone who takes opiates does so for medicinal reasons. There may
have been others in the household using the medication prescribed for your mother. It would hardly
be the first time this had happened, that one person in a family becomes the procurer, in a way, of
medication for them all. There is no need to bristle at these words, Sir, for I repeat Rayley’s
promise. The only facts which will emerge from this room are those which are strictly pertinent to