The Cat That Played The Tombola Page 7

  “David is right. I should have had it serviced by now.”

  Doc Dyer waved this away. “You mustn’t mind David when he gets impatient. His bark his worse than his bite. He doesn’t seem to realize that there are two kinds of people in this world. There’s the kind who takes the car in to be serviced once a year whether it needs it or not. And there’s the kind that forgets about it the moment the car is safely parked in the garage.”

  “Exactly! I only take the car out a couple of times a month. Why would I think about it in between?”

  “It’s a mystery to me. But I do suggest you have it done before you see David again or he’s liable to break into your garage and take it to be serviced himself.”

  “Car-napping!”

  Doc Dyer laughed and then sighed a little.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Fay.

  “I just remembered who’s arriving for a visit tomorrow. I’d forgotten all about it.”

  “Who?”

  “Laetitia Poynter.” Doc Dyer’s face was gloomy.

  “Oh, right. Is she staying with you?”

  “No, thank goodness. She’ll be at the Royal Hotel again. She seems to like it there.”

  “So, this long-distance relationship thing is working out for them?”

  “She’s determined to make it work, that’s all I can say. She comes to the island once a month and texts him incessantly the rest of the time.”

  “Well, if they’re happy …”

  “But that’s the thing,” said Doc. “They’re not. Or rather, David’s not. I see how he reacts when she says she’s coming to visit. There’s no joy there. His eyes don’t light up the way they do when you walk into a room, for instance.”

  Fay threw up her hands. Then she remembered she was driving a car and grabbed the steering wheel before she could go off the road.

  “Oh, no. No, no, no. We are not having this conversation. Your son is in a relationship with someone else. We have to respect that.”

  “That’s the other thing.” He sounded frustrated. “David is too honorable for his own good. For him, it’s like they’re already married. He seems to think he would be breaking a solemn vow if he said he wanted to stop seeing her.”

  “It’s his life and his choice,” said Fay. “It’s none of our business.”

  But she would be keeping a close eye on the situation nonetheless.

  Chapter 11

  Fay took the kittens out for their play-time in the Garden of Remembrance straight after breakfast.

  The moment the last dish had been put in the dishwasher, she loaded her furry cargo into the cat carrier. This time, the five adult cats followed her in, not wanting to miss out on the fun.

  After Smudge and Olive, came Whisky and Sprite. They were Fay’s original cats that she had brought with her from America. Whisky was a black-and-white tuxedo male while Sprite was a lilac-point Balinese female. She had got them both from a rescue center in Brooklyn, proving that pedigreed cats were just as liable to end up in rescue shelters as their ordinary counterparts.

  Fay bent to give them each a stroke as they walked into the garden. Whisky and Sprite had been indoor cats – apartment cats – in New York City, and the change of lifestyle suited them perfectly. They loved being free to wander the gardens of Penrose House.

  She was just about to close the gate when something heavy pushed against it.

  “Oh, there you are, Ivan,” she said, looking down at the large, shaggy body that had just joined them. “That’s five out of five.”

  Ivan was one of her grandmother’s rescues. He had been brought to Bluebell Island by a Russian family that had worked there on a one-year contract. He was a pure-bred Siberian. When the family went back to Russia, they left him behind. Fay’s mind boggled every time she thought of this.

  She couldn’t understand cruelty or neglect of animals, especially when people weren’t living poor and desperate lives but were comfortably middle class. Why would anyone go to all the trouble of bringing a cat to Bluebell Island from Russia (no easy job with the quarantine laws, as Fay well knew) and then leave it behind when they went back?

  Still, their loss was Fay’s gain. She adored every hair on Ivan’s shaggy head. It made her happy to give him the life he deserved. There was just enough snow and ice and rain on the island to remind him of his Siberian origins, but also some sun to enjoy on a beautiful day like this.

  Sprite, Whisky, and Ivan hadn’t been particularly interested in the kittens when they were tiny but now saw them as potential playmates. Smudge and Olive were on hand to make sure that the play didn’t get too rough for their charges.

  Fay sat on the bench and enjoyed the sunshine. Her mind wandered to what the rest of her day would consist of. Apart from her B&B duties, she wanted to visit the holistic therapy center and speak to Martin Trenowyth. There was no way that could be anything but an awkward conversation, but it had to be done.

  When the kittens had tired themselves out, she loaded them back into the carrier and took them inside.

  Eleven o’clock saw her turning down Harbor Road out of the High Street and heading towards the docks. Bluebell Island had always been a fishing port, but over the centuries it had also served as a refueling and refreshment station for ships travelling west on the Atlantic. It was still a busy working port. The only change in recent years had been to make it more tourist friendly.

  There was now a harbor museum and an exhibition detailing the dangers of over-fishing and explaining how to create a sustainable fishing industry. There were concession stands selling cotton candy and ice-cream. A chilly wind had come up and was teasing Fay’s hair, making her button her jacket up higher. It didn’t seem like ice-cream weather to her, but several tourists clearly disagreed.

  She found the Bluebell Island Holistic Therapy Center easily enough now that she knew what to look for. It was a tiny store front. There were a couple of cars parked outside, so perhaps business was better than the location suggested.

  Fay walked in to the sound of wind chimes and the smell of incense. She found herself in a small shop dedicated to the sale of alternative remedies. At the back was a closed door with a sign saying THERAPY ROOM. A few people were browsing around looking at crystals and dream catchers. A man sat at a counter behind the cash register, flicking through his phone. He was in his mid-forties and had long hair that was tied back and braided. He had several studs and tunnels in each ear and was wearing a long purple caftan with stars and moons sewn onto it. He looked up and smiled vaguely at Fay when she walked in.

  “Let me know if you need any help. Otherwise, feel free to browse.”

  “Actually, I was hoping to speak to you. Are you Gary Malkin?”

  He inclined his head. “I am. And all my paperwork and permits are up to date.”

  “I’m not here to check your permits.”

  “Oh?” He looked at her more closely. “You don’t look like a cop, but something about you made me think you might be one.”

  Fay sighed. Back when she actually had been a cop, people had found it hard to believe because she looked so young. Now that she wasn’t one anymore, people kept thinking she was. She couldn’t win.

  “My name’s Fay. I run the Cat’s Paw B&B out on Penrose Crescent.”

  “Oh, the big house? Yes, I know it.”

  “You must have heard about the woman who was killed at the spring fair on Sunday. She was on my property and I saw it happen. I even found the murder weapon. As far as the police are concerned, I’m a suspect. I’m speaking to everyone who knew the victim, because the sooner this gets solved the sooner my life can go back to normal.”

  Gary folded his arms. “And what makes you think I knew her?”

  “I know she didn’t believe in doctors, so I thought she might have come to consult you if she weren’t feeling well. You’re the only alternative practitioner on the island. It makes sense.”

  “As a medical professional, I am bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. Even if
this Mrs. Saville had been a patient of mine, I couldn’t tell you anything about her.”

  Fay couldn’t help smiling. “If you really were a medical professional, you would know that doctor-patient confidentiality does not survive death. The doctor can choose to break it at his or her discretion.”

  “Exactly. And I’m using my discretion to tell you that I’m not talking.”

  “But that’s the problem, Mr. Malkin. You’re not a doctor. You’re not even a medical professional like a paramedic or a physiotherapist. You are an unregistered therapist. You belong to no professional bodies and are bound by no code of ethics.”

  He clenched his arms more tightly around his body. “What about my own ethics?”

  “Would they survive a visit from the police? It’s a well-known fact that Mrs. Saville was being poisoned by arsenic in the last weeks of her life. Do you really want the police to raid your place of work?”

  His eyes darted from side to side. “Why are you threatening me?”

  Fay sat on a stool next to the cash register.

  “I just came in for a chat, Mr. Malkin. You and I have the same goal – to clear ourselves of suspicion in the death of Mrs. Saville. We can help each other. Why don’t we start over and you tell me when Mrs. Saville first came to see you and why?”

  Gary relaxed his shoulders.

  “Okay, fine. Mrs. Saville was one of my first customers when I opened the center nearly a year ago. I’m from Bristol and let me tell you it’s not easy to make a living as an alternative therapist there. There are already more alternative practitioners than you can shake a stick at. It’s fine if you want to work for someone, but if you open your own operation, there’s too much competition and the rents are too high. I investigated Bluebell Island and saw that there were no alternative therapists here. There’s a man who offers sports massage in the High Street, but that’s all.”

  “So, you moved here last year?”

  “That’s right. It was in June. The tourist season was just getting started and one of the first people to walk through my door was Mrs. Saville. We had a nice chat about conventional medicine and why you can’t trust it. I must admit I was delighted. To have a lady of Mrs. Saville’s standing come into my center seemed like a great thing. I thought she would tell all her friends about me. It was only later that I discovered she didn’t have many friends. She had a knack for antagonizing people.”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  “But still – a customer is a customer and I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I knew something better would come along and it did. You’ll never guess who I’ve got coming into my center these days.”

  “I’m going to go with Lady Chadwick,” said Fay.

  He looked disappointed. “How did you know?”

  “Because she loves alternative lifestyles. Unfortunately, people think she’s a little loopy, so I wouldn’t count on too much repeat business from her. What sort of problems did Mrs. Saville come to see you for over the last few months?”

  “Oh, this and that. At first, she came in to buy some items to spruce up her home. Wind chimes and dream catchers and so forth. Then she came in for something to help her sleep better at night.”

  “What did you give her for that?”

  “Some Coffea 30 and Arsenicum 30.”

  “Arsenicum?” Fay thought she might have misheard.

  “That’s right. How much do you know about homeopathy?”

  “Not much. I know it has to do with treating an ailment with tiny amounts of a substance that would normally cause the ailment.”

  “Correct. That’s what homeopathy means – treating like with like. The exact opposite of western medicine which treats like with unlike. So, a doctor might give you an antibiotic for a bacterial infection, but a homeopath would give you a probiotic.

  “Understood.”

  “The principle of homeopathy is that the more you dilute the remedy the stronger it becomes. We dilute substances like caffeine and arsenic to the proportion of 10 to the power of 12. The substance becomes harmless at that level of dilution, but very potent as a remedy. You can look suspiciously at my Arsenicum, but I assure you it is completely harmless and commonly used in all branches of homeopathy.”

  “Okay. What about more recently? Had Mrs. Saville been in to consult you in the last few weeks?”

  “Yes. She had been complaining of stomachache. I gave her Nux Vomica, which is a derivative of strychnine. I also gave her Petroleum.”

  Fay stared at him. “Petroleum? You mean petrol, like I put in my car? In America, we call it gas.”

  Chapter 12

  He gave her a calm smile.

  “Yes, like you put in your gas tank. Just like the Nux Vomica, and the Arsenicum, Petroleum is something that would normally upset the stomach. But when it is diluted according to the centuries-old homeopathic tradition, it becomes a powerful remedy. It stimulates the body’s immune system to produce its own natural defenses against the ailment. This neutralizes the ailment and the patient begins to feel better. This is why homeopathy has been the world’s most trusted alternative therapy since the eighteen-hundreds.”

  Fay nodded. “You know, I suffer from chronic stomach pain myself. It keeps me awake at night. Do you think you could give me some of what you gave to Mrs. Saville? The Coffea, the Arsenicum, the Nux Vomica, and the Petroleum? I’ll try anything if it helps.”

  He beamed at her. “Certainly. You should start feeling relief after two to three days. It takes that long for the body to produce the necessary immune response. Your system will undergo a radical reeducation. Once that has kicked in, you’ll be amazed at how well you feel.”

  His words were compelling. There was something seductive about the idea of re-programming your body back to health. Fay could almost bring herself to believe that her immune system could be stimulated to fight off any disease.

  Gary turned away to gather the necessary medications from the array of pill bottles behind him. Soon Fay had four neatly labelled bottles in front of her. The Coffea and the Petroleum were in pill form, while the Arsenicum and the Nux Vomica were in liquid form. They looked very official and scientific, with dosages and directions for use set out clearly on the labels.

  “Are these from the same batch as Mrs. Saville was using?” asked Fay.

  He glanced at the bottles. “Should be. They came in the same delivery. Does it matter?”

  “Not at all. I was just wondering.”

  When Gary had finished ringing them up, they came to the rather staggering total of forty-one pounds, or fifty-five dollars. Fay still hadn’t got out of the habit of converting everything to “real” money in her head. She just hoped this would be worth it.

  “Did you get to know Mrs. Saville personally?” she asked as she handed over her card for payment.

  “Not personally, no. We would have long chats about alternative medicine. It was something that she was very interested in. But we never talked about personal matters or saw each other outside of the store. In fact, if I ran into her in the village, she would look right through me. I think she classed me as the help, and Mrs. Saville did not socialize with the help.”

  “Do you know of anyone who was angry with her? Angry enough to fire a bullet at her on a crowded field?”

  “She was an interfering sort of person. Always popping up to tell you what you were doing wrong and how you could do it better. A lot of people resented that. Whether someone resented it enough to shoot her, I have no idea. You must remember that I’ve only been on the island a year. I don’t know the ins and outs of everyone’s relationships.”

  “Speaking of relationships, were you aware that Mrs. Saville had met a man? Someone she had begun a romantic relationship with?”

  Fay saw the doubt on his face and added, “Remember, the lady is deceased. There is no confidentiality issue here.”

  “It’s interesting that you should mention that because she came to me about a month ago to ask for someth
ing that could rejuvenate the female organs, as she put it. It took me a while to understand what she was on about because she phrased it in such a tangle of euphemisms. But I definitely got the impression that she had met someone. She thought that things were about to become physical and wanted to make sure that everything was still in working order, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do. And what did you give her?”

  “I gave her some Conium and some Nat Mur tissue salts – that’s Natrum Muriaticum. It restores the water balance in the body.”

  Fay could almost feel her credit card flinching. “Could you give me some of those too?”

  Fifteen pounds later (twenty dollars!), she walked out onto Harbor Road, clutching a brown bag full of homeopathic remedies. Her wallet might have been lighter, but she felt as though she had made some important discoveries. Now she just had to follow through with her plan.

  She wanted to have all these remedies tested. If Mrs. Saville had been taking them regularly before her death, they might well have been the source of the arsenic poisoning. That would also explain why her housekeeper Bertha hadn’t suffered any ill effects. They were eating the same food but only Mrs. Saville had taken the pills.

  There was one place on the island to have a substance scientifically tested. David had set up a private laboratory at the surgery to cut down on the waiting time involved in sending samples to the mainland. She would take them to him.

  A stiff wind had come up while Fay had been in the holistic therapy center. Grey clouds scudded across the sky and gusts of fine rain blew into her face. After six months on Bluebell Island, she still wasn’t used to taking an umbrella with her everywhere she went. If the day started out fine, taking an umbrella didn’t even cross her mind. And that was the problem – the days usually did start out fine. It was in the afternoon that they tended to deteriorate. Now it was only lunch time, and the weather had already turned.

  Turning up the collar of her jacket, Fay trudged along the High Street and up the road that would take her past the surgery to Penrose House. It was a steep climb and the wind seemed determined to knock her off her feet. She felt her mascara starting to run and her hair being whipped into a tangle as the wind blew into her face.