The crystal crypt, p.19
The Crystal Crypt, page 19
“That was five years ago, wasn’t it? Have you and Miss Blackburn been in touch since?”
Poppy shook her head. “No. Not until recently. I met her at a lecture at the Royal Institution in London last week and she told me about June Leighton’s death.”
“And she asked you to come?”
“Yes.”
“Then why all the secrecy? Why weren’t you and Miss Blackburn above board with this?”
Poppy looked towards the emergency room where the ambulance men had taken Sophie. A nurse came out and another went in. “Because she asked me not to be. Have you ever met Sophie?”
“I have not spoken to her personally,” said Fenchurch.
“Well, if you had you would understand that she is an unusual person. She can be very brusque and – what’s the term psychiatrists use these days – paranoid? Yes, paranoid.”
“I believe she spent some time in a mental institution.”
“She did. But she was released. And was well enough to get a job at a top laboratory. I don’t think Professor Sinclair would have hired her if he didn’t think she was mentally up to the job.”
Fenchurch nodded. “True enough. So why did she invite you here to write an article on her former colleague? There were obituaries in the press after Miss Leighton died. Why did Miss Blackburn believe there needed to be another one, and why were you – from a newspaper that doesn’t even distribute to Oxford – the person to ask?”
Poppy could have shrugged and given an excuse that Sophie thought she might be interested to write something for her Women in the Workplace column, but it was sounding hollower every time she said it. And besides, this investigation was becoming increasingly dangerous. It might be time to finally bring in a police officer who – unlike Rosie – had the power to do something. But she was still reluctant to use the word “murder”. “Because,” she said eventually, “Sophie believed that June Leighton’s death might not have been an accident.”
Chief Constable Fenchurch sat bolt upright. “Oh, did she now? And why, pray tell, didn’t she report her suspicions to the police? She was interviewed after Miss Leighton’s death – as was everyone who worked at the laboratory – and she had nothing to contribute. I can assure you, Miss Denby, if there was any hint that June Leighton’s death had been anything other than an accident it would have been investigated thoroughly. But everyone we spoke to – including our own medical examiner – said there were no suspicious circumstances.”
Poppy shrugged. “Yes, I believe that’s what you were told.”
Fenchurch leaned towards her, and Poppy became aware for the first time of the bulk of the man. “If you are insinuating, Miss Denby, that we did not do a proper job, then you are sadly mistaken.”
“I’m not insinuating anything, Chief Constable; I’m only telling you what Sophie Blackburn told me and why she asked me to come to Oxford. She was concerned that the hypothesis of how June was electrocuted – the clumsiness of it – did not fit her character; neither personal nor professional. So, she asked me to look into it. I did come here prepared to just write an article on a remarkable young female scientist, but I was open to the possibility that there might indeed be more to the story.”
Fenchurch leaned back, easing the degree of physical intimidation. “And is there more to the story?”
For the first time, Rosie glanced up. Poppy tried to catch her eyes, but the WPC averted her gaze.
“Yes, there is,” said Poppy, turning back to Fenchurch, “in terms of the chauvinistic conditions in which June worked, plagiarism of her work, and possible ties to—” She almost said, “possible ties to some kind of weapons research” but stopped herself. She had no idea what significance, if any, June’s refusal to work on the weapons research had. She hadn’t yet had time to think that one through. She gave herself a quick internal shake: Pull yourself together, old girl.
But Fenchurch’s eyes had narrowed. He leaned in again. “Possible ties to…?”
“Possible ties to an old boys’ network that covered up the most shocking bullying,” said Poppy, her eyes narrowing in reply.
A flicker of a smile played at the corner of Fenchurch’s mouth. “But no murder.”
“No evidence of murder, no.” Yet, she wanted to add, but didn’t. “However, the attack on Sophie and on Gertrude Fuller last night – just a block away from one another – as well as the tampering with my bicycle, suggests that someone is trying to stop me from finding out the truth. And that someone has a very violent streak.”
Fenchurch leaned back again. “Yes, WPC Winter told me about the bicycle. She also told me that she’d been doing some detective work of her own and discovered that both Miles Mackintosh and Bill Raines were unaccounted for after the Balliol dinner.”
Poppy flashed a look at Rosie, but the policewoman’s eyes remained firmly focused on the floor.
“Yes,” said Poppy. “WPC Winter mentioned that to me.”
“She should not have divulged any information to a civilian. WPC Winter is now on suspension. She is only here now due to the – delicate – nature of Miss Blackburn’s injuries.”
You mean the rape, thought Poppy. “WPC Winter did not divulge anything to me. I tricked her into giving me the information,” said Poppy. “It was not her fault.” This was not in the least bit true, but Poppy felt she had to at least try to help Rosie.
“Well, tricked or not, she should not have told you. However, she has now told me and we are opening a formal investigation.”
Poppy raised an eyebrow. “You are formally investigating Mackintosh and Raines for the attacks?”
“Don’t put words into my mouth, Miss Denby; that’s a foul journalistic habit. We are formally opening an investigation into the attacks. We are keeping an open mind at this stage and interviewing as many people as we can. Up until the discovery of Miss Blackburn, there was no corroborating evidence that Dr Fuller had in fact been attacked. We had witnesses saying they’d seen her tipsy and unsteady on her feet.”
“She told you she was attacked. Isn’t that enough?”
“Not in itself, no. She was drunk. She’d had a blow to her head. Corroboration was needed.”
“And you think you have that now with Sophie’s attack?”
“We have enough to suggest there might be a link. And that link, Miss Denby, is you.”
At this, Rosie did look up. She was as pale as a ghost. “You’re not suggesting that Poppy is a suspect in these attacks, are you, sir?”
Fenchurch snorted. “Well, I might have been if it hadn’t been for the personal nature of the assault on Miss Blackburn. No, Winter, we’ll be looking for a man. But Miss Denby is the obvious link between both the victims.”
Poppy shook her head. “No, Chief Constable Fenchurch; I am not the obvious link. The obvious link is June Leighton. You have one dead woman and two seriously injured ones. I am just the person who poked the hornet’s nest. I think you should seriously consider reopening your investigation into that so-called ‘accident’ in the Crystal Crypt.”
The Chief Constable raised himself again to his full, seated height. “Do not tell me how to do my job, Miss Denby.”
“I would never dream of it,” said Poppy sweetly, but her eyes were cold.
“Good,” said Fenchurch. “For now, though, I will have one of my men look after you while you are in Oxford. I do not want anything happening to you.”
Oh no, thought Poppy, that’s all I need, someone watching my every move. “That won’t be necessary, thank you.”
“I insist.”
“And I insist that you do not.”
Poppy and Fenchurch stared at one another, neither of them giving an inch. The stalemate was broken by a doctor approaching them. “Just to let you know, we’ve stabilized Miss Blackburn, but she’s still unconscious. She won’t be able to talk to anyone just yet.”
“Thank you, doctor,” said Fenchurch. “I’ll leave WPC Winter here. If Miss Blackburn wakes up, Winter, call me immediately. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir,” said Rosie quietly.
“Good. Now, Miss Denby, I shall escort you out.”
“No thank you, Chief Constable. I can make my own way.” She stood up.
He stood too, towering over her. She turned and walked away. She dared not turn around to see if he followed her, but she sensed that he hadn’t. And she was right.
She then decided to pop into Gertrude Fuller’s room. However, Gertrude was asleep. One of the graduate students who had been there that morning was sitting at her bedside. She saw Poppy, stood, and came to the door.
“Miss Denby, isn’t it?”
“It is. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
The girl smiled. “It’s Annabel. Annabel Seymour. I’m one of Dr Fuller’s PhD students – and her assistant. I’m so glad you came. I went to your hotel earlier to see you, but you weren’t there. I have some information…” Annabel looked over Poppy’s shoulder to see that they were not about to be interrupted, then lowered her voice. “Dr Fuller said I should tell you rather than the police.”
“Oh?” said Poppy, “and why’s that?”
“Because Dr Fuller doesn’t think the police believed her about being attacked last night. She thinks they just think she fell down. But she said that you believe her. Do you?”
Poppy nodded. “I do. But first, tell me how she is doing.”
Annabel looked over at her mentor. “She seems to be all right. She’s asleep now, but that’s just because she’s tired from working on the edits – the ones she asked me to bring her this morning. But you see, that’s what I want to tell you. When I went into Dr Fuller’s rooms, they were in chaos. As if they’d been ransacked. There were books and papers everywhere. Now, Dr Fuller is not the tidiest of people, but this was like a whirlwind had been through the place. I had a jolly old time trying to find the proofs she wanted. Fortunately, they were still intact in a file. But there were other pages strewn all over the place.”
“Goodness,” said Poppy. “That is worrying. Did you ask anyone if they’d seen anything? The fellow on the gate, for instance?”
Annabel shook her head. “I didn’t, no. I was so shocked I just ran straight here and told Dr Fuller. And then she asked me to tell you.”
Poppy nodded sagely. Gertrude Fuller’s rooms had been ransacked. Sophie Blackburn’s sitting room had been ransacked. If this was just random violence, why had he – and Poppy was now sure it was a he – attacked Dr Fuller and then taken the trouble to go to her rooms and ransack the place? It seemed very likely that he was looking for something. But what? In both cases it was papers that were scattered around. Was the attacker looking for papers? The only thing that connected Sophie and Gertrude – as far as Poppy knew – was an association with June Leighton. Papers… June Leighton’s papers…
“Annabel, do you by any chance know if June Leighton left any notebooks or papers with Dr Fuller? And if she did, whether Dr Fuller kept any of her papers after she died?”
Annabel thought for a moment and said, “I don’t think so. I helped Dr Fuller pack up June’s things from her room and sent them off to her family in London. There were papers in there. Scientific papers, if I recall. But I don’t remember Dr Fuller keeping any of them. I mean, why would she? She’s not a scientist.”
Indeed, thought Poppy, why would she? Sophie, on the other hand, might very well have kept any papers she found at the lab… but if she did, why didn’t she tell me?
Poppy smiled at the student. “Thank you, Annabel. Will you please ask Dr Fuller about it when she wakes up again? And then come to the hotel and tell me? If I’m not there, then leave a note in a sealed envelope at the front desk. Can you do that for me?”
The girl’s eyes were wide with intrigue. “Of course, Miss Denby. Goodness, do you think someone attacked Dr Fuller on purpose? That it wasn’t just a mugging?”
“I do, Annabel, I’m afraid. So do be careful yourself. I don’t want to scare you, but try not to walk around on your own. Bring a friend with you to the hotel. Promise me?”
The girl paled. “Yes, Miss Denby, I think that would be wise.”
CHAPTER 25
Before she left the hospital, Poppy tried to speak to Rosie Winter – after noting that Chief Constable Fenchurch had gone – but the WPC just mumbled that she wasn’t allowed to fraternize with Poppy anymore. “Sorry Poppy, I’m already in a lot of trouble. If I want to keep my job, I will have to toe the line.”
“I understand,” said Poppy and gave the policewoman a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “I know it’s got you into hot water, but you have been a huge help to me. And I won’t forget it.”
Poppy left the hospital and walked down Walton Street. As she passed The Oxford Gazette, she decided to pop in and see how George Lewis was getting on. The newspaperman was just coming out of the building as she arrived, pulling on his coat in a hurry.
“Miss Denby! Have you heard about the attack on Sophie Blackburn?”
“I have, Mr Lewis. I was the one who found her.”
This slowed Lewis down. He whipped out a notebook from his pocket and pencil from behind his ear. “This certainly qualifies for information that directly affects Oxford – as per our agreement – so spill it.”
Poppy told him what had happened but didn’t mention anything about papers being searched at Sophie’s or Gertrude’s place. She wanted to delve deeper into that herself before going public. When she’d finished telling Lewis her story, he let out a long whistle.
“So, Fenchurch is treating the attacks as related. But he is not reopening the June Leighton case.”
“That about sums it up – despite it being obvious to anyone with eyes in their head that the three incidents are related. If he is going to re-examine the Leighton case, he didn’t tell me.”
Lewis grinned. “That doesn’t surprise me. Fenchurch is one of those men who does not like being told what to do by women – particularly young, pretty women who come up from London. But he’s no fool, Miss Denby, and despite his attitude to ladies, he’s one of the better fellows on the force. If his investigation into the two attacks turns anything up to justify it, Fenchurch may very well reopen June’s case.”
Poppy was surprised that Lewis appeared to be defending the Chief Constable. “So, you don’t think Fenchurch is involved in any conscious cover-up?”
“It would surprise me if he were. However, he does not have full control of every officer on the constabulary, and as far as I know, the June Leighton incident was not his case.”
“Oh? Whose was it?”
“Another senior officer called Teddy Birch. A chief inspector. He’s been around for years – pre-dates Fenchurch – and is pretty much untouchable. Like the medical examiner, he’s only got a few months to retirement, and no one wants to suggest he hasn’t done his job properly. I reckon that’s one of the things that influenced my predecessor’s lack of curiosity about the case. He, Dickie Mortimer, and Teddy Birch were regular drinking pals.” He shook his head. “I’m sure Mr Rolandson has already told you this, Miss Denby, but while it’s good for journalists to get as close as they can to police officers, they should not get too close. There’s being pally and then there’s being pally to the point of losing your professional perspective. I fear that’s what happened here.”
Poppy nodded her understanding. “Yes, he has told me that. But how very interesting about the three of them being so pally, and how it might have influenced the Leighton investigation. Do you think I’ll be able to speak with Chief Inspector Birch?”
Lewis shook his head. “Sorry, he’s away on holiday. The Isle of Wight, I believe. But I have been able to arrange a meeting with Dickie Mortimer, the medical examiner. I went to see him after I left the hospital this morning. I have arranged to meet him this evening at the White Horse. And,” he said, pausing for effect, “guess what? I asked him to bring the report into June’s death.”
Poppy’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s wonderful!”
Lewis chuckled. “I have certain skills, Miss Denby.”
Poppy smiled at the older journalist. “I never doubted you did.”
Poppy and Lewis arranged a time to meet at the White Horse later that evening. She wasn’t quite sure how appropriate it would be for a young woman to walk into the pub unaccompanied, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. Then, Lewis rushed off to see who else he could interview about the Sophie Blackburn story.
Poppy checked her watch and saw that it was four o’clock. Time to get back to the hotel. Hopefully by now Ike would have arrived. She’d catch up with him, telephone Rollo, then have a little rest and something to eat before meeting George Lewis and Dr Dickie Mortimer. She expected Ike might want to come along to that meeting too. She picked up her pace. However, as she passed Somerville College, she decided to pop into the gatehouse to ask the porter a few questions. He was seated in a little kiosk reading a newspaper and looked up as Poppy entered the portico.
“Can I help you, miss?”
“Hello, my name is Miss Denby. I was here the other day.”
“Ah yes,” he said, “the lady with the bicycle. You look a bit drier today.”
Poppy smiled ruefully, expecting the smile to be returned, and she was surprised that it was not. She thought the man young for a porter. Not that she’d known many porters in her time, but those that she had – and those that she’d read about in novels – always seemed to be around retirement age. She’d be surprised if this man was even forty. He folded his newspaper and leaned forward. “So how can I help you, Miss Denby?”
“I was, well, I was wondering if you’d heard about the attack on Dr Fuller last night.”
“Attack? Oh, I don’t think it was an attack, miss. The police told me this morning that she’d had a fall and someone had found her and taken her to the infirmary.”
“Yes, that’s one theory,” said Poppy. “The other is that she was attacked. In fact, Dr Fuller herself claims she was grabbed from behind by a man.”
The porter raised an eyebrow. “Really? And she saw the man?”
