Ben nodded. “The body will shut down because of the poison. Invariably, a seizure might take hold if the poison is strong enough. It might not have been a seizure, but violent spasms as the body collapses tha
t leaves the victims looking as if they have had a seizure.”
“God, it’s gruesome,” Moss growled.
“It’s effective,” Ben warned.
“But explains why all of the victims appear to have died from seizures. They have all been poisoned.”
“Which points to the killer knowing exactly how this poison works; how long it will take, and what effects it has on the victim. They also are wily enough to know to remove all trace of the poison that killed the victim and cover their traces by cleaning up. They are also confident enough to believe that if they are caught, they can claim to be cleaning or tidying the house in the absence of the recently deceased owner. You know, for the grieving relations. Whoever it is will be confident enough moving around the village without the risk of drawing suspicion.”
“It’s one of them, but which one?” Moss sighed and sat a little straighter in bed.
“That, my dear friend, is for you to find out. Of course, it might be flowers of some sort. There are certain flowers and plants that might smell a little like mushrooms, but until I can get the cake examined, I won’t know for sure. Thank God you only took one mouthful, eh?”
“I have never felt that ill before in my life,” Moss muttered.
“Well, if your killer is this Clementine woman, everyone she comes into contact with is at risk,” Ben announced.
“I don’t think it is her,” Moss argued. “Clementine isn’t the kind to be this callous.”
“You are only saying that because you like her.” Ben threw him a knowing look.
Moss didn’t deny it. “She came to tell me that someone was killing people after the first death. Why would a murderer openly engage the services of a private detective who will confirm their guilt? Clementine said to me that she believed people she met were dropping down around her with supposedly natural deaths that weren’t natural at all. Foolishly, I told her she was making it all up.”
“Maybe when you went to the village you trod on the killer’s toes, and they decided to get rid of you while you were no longer in the village? I mean, nobody is going to link your death to the villagers’ deaths if you aren’t in the village,” Ben replied.
“God, I could do with you coming with me,” Moss sighed around a yawn.
Ben snorted. “Not bloody likely. You are on your own with this. What I would recommend is that you watch everything you eat. Don’t eat anything someone else has made for you, especially if you go back there. Eat only freshly cooked foods that you know cannot be tampered with. Maybe potatoes and pie that has been bought yourself from a pie shop. Make sure that you don’t eat any more cake or accept any drink someone has purchased for you in a tavern or anything. If this is a poison that can be put into drink as well as food, it might be possibility to slip a bit into your brandy just as easily. I mean, that is just as fragrant, isn’t it?”
Moss nodded.
“I think the brandy saved your life. Drinking as much as you did so swiftly didn’t give the cake the opportunity to sit in your stomach or be absorbed by your body. You threw it up really quickly, so the poison didn’t have the time to work ergo that cake made you just a little bit sick.”
“It would be a different story entirely if I had eaten the whole slice, wouldn’t it? It is safe to say that the recipients of the cake would be likely to happily eat a gift like that if they thought it came from Clementine. They would enjoy it little knowing that it was poisoned, and the worst gift anybody could ever have. God knows, I did.”
“And all in Clementine’s name,” Ben sighed.
“Why would anybody hate her enough to want to make her look guilty for murder?” Moss stared out of the window of his bed chamber and contemplated the villagers he had met. None of them seemed to have anything against Clementine. To her, everyone was friendly and called greetings to her.
“Maybe they aren’t trying to frame her?” Ben suggested.
“How so?”
“Maybe they just use Clementine’s name purely because it is the only way they know the recipients are likely to eat the cake? Have any of the cards with her name on ever been found?” Ben was intrigued and could understand why Moss did the job he did. There was something appealing about being able to mull over a good mystery.
“The morning-after cleaner probably took them,” Moss admitted ruefully.
“I do believe that the killer might have lost the card and might be going back to the house to try to find it, especially if all trace of the cake has been removed,” Ben suggested.
“I have to go back and stay with Clementine and her father as planned. They have to be warned about receiving gifts.”
“What if she is the killer?” Ben asked quietly when Moss moved to stand up.
A glint of steel shone in Moss’s eyes when he looked at his friend. “Then she has to go to gaol like everyone else. But whether she is the killer or not, I must keep an eye on her. If the deaths stop then I know it is her and will have to come up with a way of getting her to confess. If the deaths continue, and she has been with me all along, then I know it cannot be her.”
“I think you need to treat everyone around her as potential victims, Moss. Someone this callous isn’t going to stop willingly. If they are targeting Clementine, for whatever reason, it is inevitable that they will try to claim her as a victim too. First, though, from what you have told me, the killer appears to be trying to get her alone by killing everyone she encounters. By isolating her, the killer is then able to pick her off at will and nobody will be around to hear her scream.”