Run Afoul (31 page)

They had taken no time at all to jump to the obvious conclusion. The victim had cried out the name of his killer,
“William,”
and a man with that name had been discovered holding the murder weapon. Accordingly, they had carried off Captain William Coffin to the village of Rio Macae, and there, in the building that flew the Brazilian flag, the justice had issued a formal arrest, and sent him on board the brig, with four soldiers to guard him until he was locked up in prison.

The inquest would take place at the coroner's bidding, probably within a couple of days. If Captain Coffin was indicted, he would be tried before a
juiz de decrito
and a jury of forty, all men who were prosperous enough to pay taxes. Looking at his confident bearing now, Wiki felt dreadfully afraid that the coroner would consider him cocky, and rule for an indictment.

He said, “How did you come to be holding that cudgel?”

“You sound as if you don't believe me.”

For God's sake,
Wiki thought. He said patiently, “I do believe you.”

“So why are you questioning me like this? Like an officer of the law?”

“Because that's exactly what I am.”

His father arched his brows, and then shrugged, and said, “I saw it lying in the mud about a hundred yards before the end of the track, and got off my horse to see what it was. Then, when I ran the rest of the way, I kept it in my hand.”

“Why?”

“Because it had blood on it—and hair.”

“You were alone?”

“Aye.”

“But you were so angry when Dr. Olliver strayed from the group.”

“That's why I was alone! I was hurrying after him to make him see sense and rejoin the party. For God's sake, Forsythe and I had done that often enough over the past few days. The rest weren't far behind.”

“You arrived on foot. Where was your horse?”

“I didn't think it was worth remounting, being so close—and I wasn't thinking straight, because of what was on the club. I suppose the horse followed me, but I'm not sure. What I do recollect is hearing my name shouted, and then I saw the open door—and you standing in the doorway.”

Wiki found himself the object of a penetrating stare, and then his father demanded, “Did you spend the night at the estate?”

Wiki nodded.

“Did you
sleep
with that woman?”

Wiki thought about it. He had definitely slept with Josefa, because he could remember waking up with her. However, he said nothing.

Captain Coffin snapped, “There will be hell to pay if Sir Patrick ever finds out that you seduced his sister-in-law!”

Wiki didn't doubt that for an instant. Instead of commenting, he said, “When I woke up, I heard hammering at the door—a queer kind of thudding—and managed to get it open just before Dr. Olliver died. He said something.”

“I know,” said his father harshly. “He said my name.”

“That was what he shouted. What he whispered to me was even more shocking—he husked out the words
I killed for him!
”

Dead silence. Captain Coffin's brows shot up, and then frowned. Finally, he said, “Killed who? And for whom?”

“Exactly,” said Wiki. “And why did he call out the name William?”

There was another long pause, and then his father said, “That's three questions,” and added in reminiscent tones, “I learned something during the war for free trade and sailors' rights—the importance of single-ship actions.”

Wiki blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“One needed a cool head. I once raised three vessels in convoy—a sixteen-gun ship, a fourteen-gun brig, and a twelve-gun ship, and took 'em all with great ease, simply by going alongside of each of them one at a time. If I'd tried them all at once, I would've been dead and done.”

“Ah,” said Wiki, understanding. “So we tackle these three questions one at a time?”

“Exactly,” said his father with great satisfaction. He beamed at Wiki as if he had always known that he was bright.

“So let's look at the name William, first. Why do you think he shouted it?”

“Because the man who attacked him was named William, of course,” said his father with great confidence.

“That's what the coroner is going to assume,” Wiki dryly agreed.

“It's a common name, so it didn't have to be me! What about the scientifics?”

“You don't know their first names?”

“Of course not,” his father said loftily.

So, despite all the fuss and contention, the scientifics had addressed each other formally, by surnames. Wiki had trouble not shaking his head in wonder. He said, “They were Charles Pickering, John Dyes, Joseph Couthouy, Alfred Agate, and Joseph Drayton. Not a William among them, unfortunately.”

“What about Lieutenant Forsythe?”

“His name is Christian.”

“What?”

“It's peculiarly inappropriate, I agree, but nonetheless it's his name.”

There was a long silence, and then his father said softly, “Oh, damn.”

Wiki, feeling sorry for him, said gently, “The next question is easier.”

“You're thinking of Olliver's confession?”

“Aye—his confession that he killed someone. It must have been Grimes.”

“But why would he kill Grimes, of all people?”

“I don't even know
how,
” said Wiki in frustration. Dr. Olliver hadn't even
been
there when Grimes had died. Instead, he'd had an alibi, because he had been surveying part of the harbor with Couthouy, and it had been Dr. Gilchrist who was summoned to attend the dying man.

Wiki remembered the way the flagship surgeon had hurried into the stateroom with his napkin still under his chin, and how he had cried out with shock,
“This man has been poisoned!”
Then, Dr. Gilchrist had ordered him to make sure that the medicine bottles were kept safe—a wise precaution, because the bismuth had proved to be contaminated with strychnine. But, Wiki's thoughts flew on, the analyst had testified that there had not been enough strychnine in the bromide—

Suddenly Dr. Tweedie's voice was as clear in his head as if the apothecary were in the room:
“Strychnine is a cumulative poison.”
Inspiration hit, and he stood up so abruptly that his chair tumbled with a clatter.

His father demanded, “Where are you going?”

“To the
Vincennes,
to ask the steward some questions.”

“Why?”

“Because Forsythe's theory that Grimes was given a dose of salts might not be as crazy as we thought.”

“You surely don't think the steward put salts on the top two fish!”

“The salts could have been added to anything. What is important is that they made him sick enough to be put under Dr. Olliver's care.”

His father's half-closed eye was shrewder than ever. “So he could kill him?”

“At leisure,” agreed Wiki grimly.

*   *   *

The
Vincennes
still smelled of brimstone and sulfur, and goods were being lightered back on board. Wiki found the plump steward in the saloon, peevishly muttering as he wielded a mop. The marines who had cleared the ship of rats had also made free with his pantry, he grumbled; they had used up his store of coffee and molasses, and had even broached a cask of spirits. “And how the hell am I going to account to the purser for the shortfall?”

Then his eyes glistened at the chance of learning gossip. “I hear that Dr. Olliver is dead,” he said promptingly.

“Aye,” said Wiki unhelpfully.

“Murdered, huh?”

“Aye.”

“And by none other than the captain of that brigantine what Captain Rochester nearly sunk?”

“The case has not been tried yet,” said Wiki.

Then Jack Winter gave him the opening he needed, by uttering in portentous tones, “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away, and He surely taketh away our scientifics—two in Rio alone! Mr. Grimes, and now Dr. Olliver. Ain't it an ever-living wonder?”

Wiki said, “What I wonder is how Mr. Grimes got the gripes in the first place.”

“I've reckoned all along that it was that foreign pudding of Festin's,” Jack Winter said at once.

“On the other hand,” Wiki suggested, “Mr. Grimes might have drunk something that upset him.”

“It wasn't my coffee!”

“I remember you mentioning wine.”

“Not wine
I
gave him, I assure you! The only wine he drank was what Dr. Olliver gave him hisself.”

“What!”
Wiki's heart bumped, and he said quickly, “When did this happen?”

“Right after supper, after everyone had left the table. Dr. Olliver came into the pantry, poured a glass of wine, stirred in a powder, and then went into Mr. Grimes's stateroom and gave it to him—for medicinal use, he told me privately, on account of he was concerned at his appearance. Then he said I was to keep quiet about it, because Mr. Grimes would object if he knew there was something else but wine in the glass.”

Wiki exclaimed, “Why didn't you tell me at the time?”

“How could I?” Jack Winter aggressively demanded. “Dr. Olliver was right there listening when you was talking about it! He was the bloody
doctor,
and I'm just the afterhouse steward, if you'll excuse the biblical language, and he'd already ordered me to keep quiet! I wasn't even allowed to make a fuss when I was told to take over the nursing, even though I had severe prognostications of an untimely demise, and I had nothing to do with his death, neither! All I did was follow instructions, I bloody swear it. Dr. Olliver made up the new pills, and showed me the medicine, and I repeated the instructions until I could recite them off to his satisfaction.”

“He didn't write them down?” Wiki asked curiously.

Instead of answering, the steward produced a rag and started polishing the credenza. His expression, Wiki saw, was defensive. Light dawned. “You can't read?”

“I can write my name,” Jack Winter muttered. “And that's enough for me. It ain't no trouble to learn instructions off by heart.”

Wiki studied him very thoughtfully. “Where is Dr. Olliver's medical chest?”

“Back in what was his stateroom, of course.”

“Let's fetch it out, shall we?” Wiki suggested, and when Jack Winter seemed inclined to argue, he got it out of the stateroom himself. Returning to the saloon, he sat down, set the box on the table, and took the bottles out, setting them up in a long row. The names on the labels were in Old English script, a miniature version of the big labels he had seen on the much bigger bottles in Dr. Tweedie's apothecary shop.

“Did you watch him make up the new pills?” he asked.

“Aye. I saw him make the pills both times.”

“I don't expect you can remember which bottles he used.”

Jack Winter cast him a surly look, and said, “Of course I can.”

It was no idle boast. Without hesitation, he picked four bottles out of the row, and set them in front of Wiki. Their labels read
and
His memory was impeccable—they were exactly the same bottles Wiki had seen the naturalist use when he had made up the first lot of pills.