Free A Vicky Hill Exclusive! by Hannah Dennison Page B

described GCMS as ‘A separation technique that can positively identify a substance narcotic, poison, or similar.’
    Returning to the coroner’s report, I read on. ‘Traces of digitalis purpurea found in victim’s stomach. Probable Cause of Death: Digitalis Intoxication.’
    Poison! According to the report, Lady Trewallyn had discovered her husband at five minutes to midnight, sprawled in the middle of a yew hedge on the estate. No wonder Pete and Annabel had wanted to get their hands on this before the obituary interview tomorrow. They’d be in the perfect position to ask incriminating questions.
    I could imagine Lady Trewallyn preparing the deadly concoction and slipping it into Sir Hugh’s brandy and milk nightcap. He’d watch her with eyes filled with trust and love, unaware that she had been planning to get her hands on his millions since the day they met. She’d kiss him goodnight, gently smoothing back the hair on his head – if he had any, I personally had never met Sir Hugh – and lurk somewhere out of sight but within earshot. He’d stay in the library, reflecting on his luck at having such an attentive young wife.
    A little later, there would be an anguished cry and the sound of a body falling to the floor. Lady Trewallyn would hurry to his side to check that he was stone-cold dead. From behind the curtains, her accomplice – and lover – Pierce Brosnan would emerge.
    The two heartless killers would drag the dead man out of the house into the night and artistically arrange his body in the yew hedge. Sir Hugh would
appear
to have been out jumping alone. It would look as if he had misjudged a leap and fallen forward with his mouth wide open in surprise. Just as the yew branches cushioned his fall, he would have accidentally swallowed a sprig of scarlet yew berries, which everyone knows are deadly poisonous.
    But I was puzzled. Thanks to Dave’s lesson on the merits of the English yew, I knew
taxus baccata
was not
digitalis purpurea
.
    On searching Google for
digitalis purpurea
, I was even more puzzled to find it was the common purple foxglove, which when ingested can cause ‘uncoordinated contractions of the heart leading to cardiac arrest and finally death’. The article went on cheerfully, ‘Thus, the
digitalis purpurea
has earned several more sinister monikers: “Dead Man’s Bells” and “Witches Gloves”.’
    No doubt Dave was out doing some late-night jumping and witnessed the disposal of the body, hence his terror of the man in the black Porsche.
    Satisfied with my findings, I couldn’t help but feel a bit smug. These murders were quite simple to solve if one had a logical mind.
    As I switched off my computer and put the report back into the envelope, I spotted something that chilled me to the bone.
    Written on the back page under
Miscellaneous Observations
was the following: ‘Deceased’s mouth contained six chicken legs complete with feet, claws, and feathers bound by a black silk cord, placed after death.’
    I felt hot and cold all at the same time. It didn’t require a brain surgeon to realize there was a connection between these limbs and the three corpses Ronnie had found at the local tip.
    Tucking the coroner’s report into my safari jacket, I wondered if I’d been wrong about Annabel. Perhaps
she
hadn’t silenced Ronnie with money – someone else had. What if Ronnie had tried to alert us to evil goings-on in Gipping but we’d shot him down? Was Lady Trewallyn dabbling in the occult?
    There were dark forces at work here in Gipping and it was my duty to the townsfolk to expose them all.

9
     
    A drenaline surged through my body as I hurried down the stairs towards the basement. For the first time, I didn’t relish the walk home alone through those dark alleys.
    Should I have a chat with Whittler? Though I doubted his eagerness to get involved with the devil. The more I thought about my brief conversations with him over these past few months, the more I wondered if he was