William Monk 18 - A Sunless Sea

powerful—to have fuel against us.”
    “We don’t think the labeling of patent medicines was the issue for which Dr. Lambourn was murdered.” Rathbone cleared his throat. He realized with surprise that his hands—which he was keeping carefully at his sides, out of sight—were clenched so hard that they ached.
    Bawtry frowned. “Then what was? And if not that report, then why are you so interested in Herne?”
    “If we can be certain that it was not the report on patent medicines for which Lambourn died,” Rathbone replied, and was forced to clear his throat again before he could go on, “that proves that the explanation about the report being a failure and destroying Lambourn was an excuse, a reason to misdirect the investigation. We believe that duringthe course of his research Lambourn learned something else, something he could not let go of, concerning the sale of pure opium for use in syringes and needles that inject it directly into the blood. The addiction to opium given this way is agonizing and lethal. It was for attempting to have that particular practice made illegal that he was murdered, and Zenia Gadney also.”
    Bawtry was pale-faced, his eyes wide. “That’s dreadful! Appalling!” He moved a little in his chair, a slight leaning forward as if he could no longer relax. “Are you suggesting that Herne had something to do with it? How? And for God’s sake …” He trailed off, his eyes filled with dawning horror.
    “What is it?” Rathbone demanded urgently.
    Bawtry licked his lips, hesitating. He looked profoundly unhappy.
    “What is it?” Rathbone repeated, his voice sharpening.
    Bawtry looked up and met his eyes. “I’ve noticed rather erratic behavior in Herne,” he said quietly. “One day he’s full of energy and ideas, the next time I see him he looks nervous, can’t concentrate, skin clammy. Is it … is it possible …?” He did not finish the question, but it was not necessary. The idea was already fully understood between them.
    Rathbone met his gaze and held it. “You think he may be addicted to opium himself, and either he is the one who is selling it, or else he is the tool of the man who is?”
    Bawtry looked wretched. “I hate even to think it of a man I know, but I suppose anyone can fall victim to such a drug, commonly used as it is. Is it possible?” His face already showed that he knew it was.
    “That he paid someone to kill Lambourn?” Rathbone asked. “Someone who could do it quietly, easily, making it look like suicide, and who would never be suspected? Yes, of course it is.”
    Bawtry was now as tense as Rathbone. Rathbone was suddenly overwhelmingly grateful that Monk was in the room. He had wanted him here as a witness to the conversation, but now he also needed him here for his physical safety.
    “Paid someone?” Bawtry affected confusion, but not total disbelief. “Who? Have you discovered something totally new that might attest to this? I have only just arrived in court.”
    “A woman,” Rathbone said. “The obvious person who makes complete sense would be Zenia Gadney.”
    “Gadney?” Now Bawtry was completely incredulous. “From all accounts I’ve heard, she was a slight, very ordinary middle-aged woman, unremarkable in every way. Indeed, she appears totally a victim, a pawn in the game.” He frowned. “Are you saying she was actually greedy, desperate, and passionate enough to have murdered her husband, the man who had supported her financially, and with some kindness, over the last fifteen years? You must have compelling evidence! It’s frankly preposterous.”
    “There is evidence.” Rathbone again chose his words delicately. “It is not compelling, but the more I weigh it, the more it seems to make sense. Consider the possibility that Herne needed desperately to silence Lambourn, indeed, to discredit him so that no whispers of what he found would ever be believed, in case he spoke of it to others. He dare not kill Lambourn himself. Lambourn may even have been aware of the danger and would have taken care not to be alone with Herne. And of course Herne had to have a way of protecting himself from suspicion.”
    “I see,” Bawtry said cautiously.
    “So he promises to pay Zenia Gadney what would be a moderate sum to him, but a fortune to her, in exchange for this favor.”
    “But … murder? Of her
husband
?” Bawtry was still far from convinced.
    “A gentle murder,” Rathbone explained. “She asks Lambourn to meet