Read Online Art and Arsenic (Veronica Margreve Mysteries Book 2) by Valerie Murmel - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Valerie Murmel
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all? To slip some poison to Fred, with a cold cutting remark and an appraising look of the shark eyes?
And I should have a word with Monica, I thought as I drank my now-cold tea. I didn’t have any reason to suspect her specifically, only that she spent much of the opening party by Fred’s side and could have ample opportunity to slip something into his drink, if she were so inclined. And it seemed that she knew him well enough, and could provide some answers, at least from the client’s perspective, about Nordqvist Fine Art. I should ask Pauline for her last name and contact info. I brewed some more tea and fired off a quick e-mail with questions to Pauline.
11
I dialed Detective Johnson. Since I had promised Linda only that I would do what I could to find who killed Fred Nordqvist, I didn’t feel like I was betraying her confidence in any way by talking to the detective.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Detective. This is Veronica Margreve. Do you have a minute?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Linda Raven called me, said that you suspected her of murdering Fred because she was at the gallery that night, and begged me to convince you that she didn’t do it.”
“I see. What did you tell her?”
“I suggested she get a good lawyer. If I may ask – do you really suspect her?”
At the other end of the phone, he sighed.
“She was the last person to see him alive. The security camera recorded her at the gallery, and her fingerprints were in the office. We know from his phone logs that he called her. “
“How long was she at the office?”
“About 15 minutes. On the other hand, this is a poisoning, and the murderer didn’t have to be present when the victim died. So the fact that Linda was the last person to talk to him doesn’t mean anything. He was alive for another 30 minutes, according to the security footage.”
“What poison was it that caused Fred’s death, by the way?” I knew from the news on celebrity deaths that full toxicology screens could take up to a couple of weeks, but from my internet research on fatal poisons I found out that there were tests that gave you results for some poisons in hours, not days.
“Arsenic.”
Arsenic. The stuff of detective novels, poisonings in rambling English county houses full of guests for a weekend, with priceless collections of art and rich inheritances… I wondered whether the murderer thought that fitting, in a way – or whether he or she chose that method because it happened to be convenient, comparatively non-violent, and allowed the guilty party to be removed from the premises at the time of death.
I mulled that over, then said:
“She told me that Fred’s gallery held another sale of David Cox landscapes from the Willembauer collection previously, and that some paintings looked a little ‘off’ to her. I looked it up – it was two and a half years ago. From what I could make out of the newspaper photos, there is nothing obviously wrong in the paintings compared to other images I got online. I’m not an expert in this though.”
Detective Johnson made a sound that might have been disapproval.
“In art, it’s all one expert’s opinion against another, isn’t it? Us regular people just looking at the picture can’t tell what’s what.”
“Yes, I suppose… Anyway, that’s what Linda called me about.” I said in what I hoped was a professional tone of voice. I was about to ask about things that were none of my business, and I thought that if our conversation was businesslike in its tone, I might actually get answers. “And what about the special wine from Christopher’s uncle’s collection?”
“There was very little left in the bottles to check, but what we did get to analyze, we didn’t find much arsenic. And the wine was divided among many people, everyone drank a toast – for that little liquid to cause Fred’s death, the concentration of poison in the bottle must have been at least 10 times
And I should have a word with Monica, I thought as I drank my now-cold tea. I didn’t have any reason to suspect her specifically, only that she spent much of the opening party by Fred’s side and could have ample opportunity to slip something into his drink, if she were so inclined. And it seemed that she knew him well enough, and could provide some answers, at least from the client’s perspective, about Nordqvist Fine Art. I should ask Pauline for her last name and contact info. I brewed some more tea and fired off a quick e-mail with questions to Pauline.
11
I dialed Detective Johnson. Since I had promised Linda only that I would do what I could to find who killed Fred Nordqvist, I didn’t feel like I was betraying her confidence in any way by talking to the detective.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Detective. This is Veronica Margreve. Do you have a minute?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Linda Raven called me, said that you suspected her of murdering Fred because she was at the gallery that night, and begged me to convince you that she didn’t do it.”
“I see. What did you tell her?”
“I suggested she get a good lawyer. If I may ask – do you really suspect her?”
At the other end of the phone, he sighed.
“She was the last person to see him alive. The security camera recorded her at the gallery, and her fingerprints were in the office. We know from his phone logs that he called her. “
“How long was she at the office?”
“About 15 minutes. On the other hand, this is a poisoning, and the murderer didn’t have to be present when the victim died. So the fact that Linda was the last person to talk to him doesn’t mean anything. He was alive for another 30 minutes, according to the security footage.”
“What poison was it that caused Fred’s death, by the way?” I knew from the news on celebrity deaths that full toxicology screens could take up to a couple of weeks, but from my internet research on fatal poisons I found out that there were tests that gave you results for some poisons in hours, not days.
“Arsenic.”
Arsenic. The stuff of detective novels, poisonings in rambling English county houses full of guests for a weekend, with priceless collections of art and rich inheritances… I wondered whether the murderer thought that fitting, in a way – or whether he or she chose that method because it happened to be convenient, comparatively non-violent, and allowed the guilty party to be removed from the premises at the time of death.
I mulled that over, then said:
“She told me that Fred’s gallery held another sale of David Cox landscapes from the Willembauer collection previously, and that some paintings looked a little ‘off’ to her. I looked it up – it was two and a half years ago. From what I could make out of the newspaper photos, there is nothing obviously wrong in the paintings compared to other images I got online. I’m not an expert in this though.”
Detective Johnson made a sound that might have been disapproval.
“In art, it’s all one expert’s opinion against another, isn’t it? Us regular people just looking at the picture can’t tell what’s what.”
“Yes, I suppose… Anyway, that’s what Linda called me about.” I said in what I hoped was a professional tone of voice. I was about to ask about things that were none of my business, and I thought that if our conversation was businesslike in its tone, I might actually get answers. “And what about the special wine from Christopher’s uncle’s collection?”
“There was very little left in the bottles to check, but what we did get to analyze, we didn’t find much arsenic. And the wine was divided among many people, everyone drank a toast – for that little liquid to cause Fred’s death, the concentration of poison in the bottle must have been at least 10 times
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