‘Wasn’t the water tested?’
‘Apparently not for arsenic. The geology was unusual and no one expected this. People began to get sick, but slowly. Arsenic is a heavy metal, like lead, and the body has trouble getting rid of it once it’s taken in. It gradually accumulates, and people began to show symptoms like blisters, cancers, gangrene and damage to the liver and kidneys. But they were also undernourished and sick with other things, and it took a long time to figure out what was wrong, and meanwhile they kept sinking new wells-over 900,000 in fact.
‘The result is that millions of people are now at risk; some estimates say as many as thirty million people across the whole region are slowly dying. It’s the biggest case of mass poisoning ever. The long-term solution has got to be more effective management of water on the surface-clean reservoirs, proper drains, and so on. But in the meantime they need a cheap and simple way of filtering out the arsenic from the wells. That’s what we’re working on.’
‘And to do that they need an expert on the chemistry of arsenic,’ Kathy said.
‘Yes, that’s me.’
‘But I don’t suppose it was the Bangladesh problem that Marion wanted to talk to you about.’
‘Actually she was pretty interested; I showed her around the lab and we talked about the work. But no, you’re right, it was the basic chemistry of arsenic compounds and how they worked as poisons that interested her, in relation to the Pre-Raphaelites.’
‘That’s what I don’t really understand. Did she explain how it was relevant to her studies?’
Ringland smiled. ‘You sound like Tony-he felt she was making far too much of this. He wanted her to concentrate on other things. Arsenic was used for all kinds of purposes in the nineteenth century, and certainly was a huge health problem. That’s what Marion was mainly concerned with. She said she was writing a paper.’
‘So she was knowledgeable about its use? I mean, properties, doses and so on?’
‘That’s what she wanted to speak to me about: the different compounds and their effects. Frankly, she didn’t have the basic grounding in chemistry. Typical arts student, having trouble with formulae, numbers. She did her best, trying to write it all down, but when I started getting into detail, your arsenates and arsenites and arsenides, your trioxide and your pentoxide, your arsphenamine…’ He saw the look on Kathy’s face and laughed. ‘Used for syphilis. Pretty brutal. Thank your lucky stars for antibiotics.’
‘I don’t have syphilis at the moment,’ Kathy said, and watched his face turn scarlet.
‘Oh God, no, I didn’t mean…’
‘And neither did Marion as far as I know, but I’ll check. Is that what she was interested in?’
‘Oh, anything to do with how the Victorians used the stuff-Fowler’s solution for warts, Gay’s solution for asthma, Frere Come’s arsenical paste for cancer…’
‘And where would you find arsenic these days?’
‘Well, somewhere like here, I suppose. We carry quite a bit of it. All under very secure conditions, of course. The university’s health and safety procedures are rigorous, believe me. But in any case, that wouldn’t be what killed Marion.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well, nobody dies of arsenic poisoning in the UK these days. You’re not suggesting that, surely?’
‘We’re still doing tests.’
‘You’ll probably find it was some food toxin. It’s pretty scary what gets into our food.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. All the same, I’d like to be certain that the poison couldn’t have originated from here.’
Dr Ringland looked at her as if she was being obtuse. ‘But why? I mean, you surely don’t think she was poisoned by someone working here in the lab, do you?’
‘No, I wasn’t thinking that. I just wanted to be sure she couldn’t have got hold of something herself while she was visiting.’
‘Oh no, no chance of that.’
‘What about Dr da Silva, has he been in here?’
Colin Ringland raised his eyebrows at her. ‘Sure, I have shown him around, and he’s called in to see me a couple of times when I was working.’
‘Could he have got a sample of the chemicals for her?’
He choked back a laugh. ‘Utterly impossible. Come on, I’ll show you.’
He took Kathy into the working areas, showing her the locked storage rooms and cabinets and explaining the security arrangements of keys, alarms, cameras and inventory checks. By the end of it she had to admit it seemed highly unlikely that Marion or anyone else from outside could have helped themselves to the laboratory stocks of arsenic.
•
After trying Dr da Silva’s phone numbers without success, Kathy went back to the office of the Department of European Literature and spoke to the secretary, Karen.
‘Dr da Silva? I saw him earlier.’ She went over to the window and said, ‘Yes, his car’s there.’
Kathy looked down into the street and saw a red BMW sports car on a meter. ‘That’s nice. I didn’t think lecturing paid that well.’
‘Family money,’ Karen sniffed. Her tone was sharp with disapproval, and she turned away to consult her computer. ‘He’s giving a lecture at the moment, another twenty minutes to go. LT108. You could catch him when he comes out.’
‘Thanks, Karen.’
Kathy found lecture theatre LT108, its red LECTURE IN PROGRESS light illuminated, and opened the door. She found herself at the top of a steeply raked auditorium, packed with students, and took a seat halfway down towards the lecturer’s dais. A tall, dark-complexioned man was speaking. He was in his mid-forties, Kathy guessed, and spoke with a cultured drawl. His manner was confident and lively, and he emphasised his points with forceful gestures of his hands. From time to time, as he turned to his notes, he would sweep his long black hair back from his brow. His audience was attentive, especially the women, Kathy thought, and she wasn’t surprised, for his voice, appearance and manner were all quite compelling. She could see what Tina had meant.
When the lecture finished, Kathy worked her way down to the front against a stream of departing students. A couple of girls had cornered the lecturer, talking animatedly, and he was smiling as he replied, collecting his papers and moving towards the door. He spotted Kathy, and put a hand up to hold the door open for her. His face was a little fleshier and older than it had seemed from a distance.
‘Dr da Silva, I’m Detective Inspector Kathy Kolla,’ she said, showing him her ID, and watching his expression freeze. But she was used to that. She held out her hand and he shook it cautiously.
‘You want to talk about Marion?’ he said quietly.
‘Yes.’
‘Terrible. We’re all shocked. We just can’t believe it.’
‘Of course. Is there somewhere we can go?’
He led her to his room, a comfortable corner office with a large window. Books covered every inch of the walls. On the shelf facing her when she sat down were multiple copies of a thick volume, its title- Dante Gabriel Rossetti -printed in sumptuous Gothic script, as was the author’s name, Anthony da Silva.
‘Apparently it was on the radio that someone probably put something in her lunch, is that right?’ he asked.
‘That’s what we suspect.’
He pursed his lips with distaste. ‘I can’t understand how anyone could do that. There are some very sick people around. I suppose you have to deal with them every day.’ He gave her a sympathetic smile.
‘We have to consider the possibility that her attacker knew her in some capacity, so we’re speaking to her friends and work colleagues. How long have you known her?’
‘Um, it must be about three years. I first came across her in her honours year, and she’d be almost two years into her doctorate now.’
‘So you must have got to know her quite well?’
‘Well, academically, yes. I met with her on average, what-every couple of weeks during term time?’
‘How about socially?’
‘Oh not really. We bumped into each other from time to time-departmental drinks, open lectures, that sort of thing. And she came to our house once. Jenny, my wife, put on a little party for my doctoral students. She likes to do that occasionally, check them out.’ He gave a faint smile.