‘Then we are out of suspects – unless the Water of Snails is irrelevant, and has led us astray.’
Bartholomew gazed up at the sky, and thought about all they had learned. Whoever killed Bess and Warde had probably used the remaining phials from Lavenham’s batch of thirteen. But because the apothecary’s shop was a pile of smouldering rubble, they would never be able to prove the last three phials were missing – stolen from the cupboard the man was careless about locking. He thought about people who might know about henbane and its effects. The killer was not only someone with a knowledge of herbs and cures, but someone who was ambitious and greedy. Then he wondered whether that ambition and greed had led him to steal the Hand, too.
He started to think about the stuffed glove, which the thief had wrapped in satin in the hope that William would not notice the real one was missing. The item had been stuffed with fur. Bartholomew recalled Dickon’s fur-covered rat, and smiled at the memory of the boy’s outrage when it had been destroyed. Then his amusement faded. The skills used to fashion a toy from an old cloak and sticks, and to make a glove look like a relic, were very similar.
‘We are not out of suspects,’ he said in a low, quiet voice. ‘We have just overlooked him.’
‘Who?’ asked Michael, who could think of no one.
‘Quenhyth. He is our killer.’
‘Quenhyth?’ asked Michael in astonishment, gazing at the physician in disbelief. ‘How did he come to be in your equations?’
‘It is falling into place,’ said Bartholomew as he paced back and forth. ‘I see it now. Quenhyth knows about poisons like henbane, because I have taught him about them.’
‘But you teach all your students the same things,’ objected Michael. ‘It could be any of them – Deynman, Redmeadow, and any of the thirty or so others. Poor Quenhyth. He is not a killer.’
‘I talked about henbane with Quenhyth, but no one else,’ said Bartholomew, remembering the discussion the two of them had had on their way to Isnard’s house the previous week while Redmeadow and Deynman lagged behind. ‘It was also Quenhyth who “helped” me test Warde’s Water of Snails – and he destroyed it all in the process. I see now that was no accident or carelessness. He poisoned Warde, and then he destroyed the evidence that might have led back to him.’
‘No,’ said Michael with calm reason. ‘He had no reason to kill Warde.’
‘He wanted Rougham blamed for a suspicious death,’ said Bartholomew, rubbing a hand through his hair as more became clear to him. ‘The day after Warde’s death, he suggested that we should examine the medicine Rougham prescribed. He did not overtly tell me to analyse it – he is not stupid, and that might have led to awkward questions – but he certainly put the idea into my mind. And Matilde’s. He told her his “suspicions” too.’
‘And he knows you listen to her,’ mused Michael. ‘Clever.’
‘Quenhyth hates Rougham because Rougham humiliated him in the High Street over blackcurrants. He is a proud young man, and does not take such things in his stride. It will have festered. He wrote a note purporting to be from Rougham and sent it with the poisoned phial to Warde. He writes beautifully, and mimicking Rougham’s script would not be difficult for him. You said yourself there were differences between the note Warde received and Rougham’s own hand.’
‘But this still does not make sense, Matt,’ warned Michael. ‘If he wanted Rougham blamed for Warde’s murder, then why did he destroy the potion he pretended Rougham had sent? Why not keep the phial and its contents, to let you prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was poison?’
‘Because he used henbane, and he was afraid I might remember that he had asked me about it. He was just being cautious, hoping that I would not care which poison was used – just that the medicine was toxic. He basically said as much after he had destroyed it.’
‘All right,’ said Michael. ‘I accept that Quenhyth killed Warde in order to have Rougham discredited, but what about the others? If he killed Warde, then he must also have killed Bess.’
‘The answers to some of our questions lie with Deschalers’s chest,’ Bartholomew went on. ‘Quenhyth knew it was going to be bequeathed to him – and indeed it was. It is in my room as we speak. But that was only true of the will Deschalers made a month ago. He made a later one, in which there were two beneficiaries – Julianna and Bottisham. No mention was made of a scribe inheriting a chest in the later document. We know this, because we have read it.’
‘But how could Quenhyth know what was in these deeds?’ demanded Michael. ‘No one saw the later will, because Pulham stole it the night Deschalers died.’
Bartholomew sighed. ‘Quenhyth wrote it – he wrote both of them. He was Deschalers’s scribe, remember? He killed Deschalers, so the later document could never be legal – Deschalers died before it was sealed and, as Pulham told us, it is worthless in a court of law. Quenhyth knew it would never be legal, and that is why he wrote it in a scribble, not in his usual careful hand.’
‘Quenhyth murdered Deschalers because he wanted a box?’ Michael sounded dubious.
‘He is a lad who puts great store by possessions, and who is short of funds at the moment. Also, he has a resentful temper, and would be furious to learn he had been disinherited, no matter how small the bequest. Think about the burglary the night Deschalers died.’
‘The night Pulham made off with the unsealed will?’
Bartholomew nodded. ‘Pulham said there was a second burglar in the house, and Una’s story confirms that. She saw Pulham leave through the front door, and it was Quenhyth who escaped with great agility out of the back window. We know exactly why he was there: Quenhyth wanted the later will, too, because it deprived him of his chest.’
Michael rubbed his chin. ‘This cannot be right, Matt. Quenhyth may be temporarily impoverished, but he is scarcely a pauper.’
‘He likes the notion of locking his belongings away,’ pressed Bartholomew. ‘He is always accusing Redmeadow of stealing.’
‘He may have known that Deschalers planned to meet Bottisham in the King’s Mill, too,’ said Michael thoughtfully, slowly coming around to Bartholomew’s point of view. ‘As scribe, he probably penned the note from Deschalers to Bottisham, suggesting a time and place. So, what do you think happened? Quenhyth followed Deschalers to the mill, aware that if Bottisham made up with Deschalers, he would lose his chest? Then what?’
‘I suspect he gave Deschalers the same poison he later used on Warde and Bess. We found an empty phial beneath the mill’s sacks. Three phials were in that insecure cupboard in Lavenham’s shop and we have three cases of poison: Deschalers, Warde and Bess.’
‘So, did Quenhyth hide the phial we found in the King’s Mill? He buried it under the sacks?’ Michael answered his own question. ‘No. If he had wanted to hide it, then he would have thrown it in the river. He either forgot about it, or it rolled away during the confusion. So, we can conclude that he poisoned Deschalers. How?’
‘Deschalers was in agony with his illness, and Rougham would not prescribe proper pain-killing medicines. I imagine Deschalers was only too grateful when a medical student arrived and proffered a substance he claimed would help. Quenhyth is a studious, precise sort of lad, and Deschalers would have no reason to doubt his competence.’
‘So,’ said Michael, ‘Deschalers lay dead, and suddenly Bottisham arrived. Quenhyth stabbed him with a nail – his medical knowledge would tell him such a wound would be fatal. Then he pierced Deschalers’s corpse with another nail to confuse us. You trained him well, Matt: it worked perfectly.’