Page 86
‘Impossible. I purchased those myself from the Prince of Wales. They smelled of the sea. Besides, Irma seems fine,’ she said, keeping her tone neutral.
‘Yes, obviously one that Henry ate wasn’t fresh enough. That’s all it can take, actually.’ He continued, almost conversationally now. ‘The Prince of Wales oysters are usually incredibly fresh. I eat them myself once a week. And, before you say it, I know that they keep them alive out the back, delivered fresh from Coffin Bay. I don’t understand it either, but these random events never offer explanation.’
‘Dr Parson, I chose those oysters myself. I would not have selected one that wasn’t perfect. I carried them straight back to the house, not lingering anywhere in between the purchase and returning to the parlour, where Nan put them directly on ice. The ice was ordered in especially for them by Irma.’
‘I see.’ The doctor frowned. ‘I can’t guess at how this occurred, Fleur. Just a terrible turn of events that pushed an already fragile liver and kidneys over that precipice, if I might describe it that way.’ He gave a tight smile and then let it go as soon as it arrived at his mouth.
Fleur ignored him, babbling now. ‘They were unshucked, alive and as fresh as can be. I chose them.’ She knew she was repeating herself, perhaps hoping that if she explained the facts well enough, it might change the outcome.
The doctor nodded and Irma’s face softened further in contrived sympathy with each point Fleur made.
Fleur was shaking her head in disbelief. ‘Each was large, with a distinctive cup and ridged shell. I know oysters, Dr Parsons. These were good.’ The rotten oysters in the back garden were beginning to make sense.
Irma spoke behind her. ‘I’m sorry to have called you out so early, Doctor,’ she said, as if Fleur hadn’t spoken.
‘No, no. You did the right thing.’
‘What happens now?’ Irma asked, a tremor in her voice.
Fleur couldn’t help wondering if it was feigned. She heard the doctor sigh; he too was ignoring the facts. ‘Normally we’d organise for the, er, the body to be collected by the undertaker, but we’re already here . . . that is, unless you wish some other firm to . . .?’
‘No one but me is touching my father,’ Fleur said, with menace in her tone.
Irma frowned. ‘Is that wise, darling?’
‘What’s wise, Irma, is that you stop pretending. Stop calling me darling or dear, or angel or love. Just stop. And while you’re at it, please stop pretending to care. Because we both know something’s not right here.’
Irma’s shock was so convincing that Fleur wanted to give her a round of applause, but the situation was so overwhelmingly dark that she couldn’t muster the strength to be bothered with Irma any longer.
She didn’t wait for her stepmother to act out her recovery from Fleur’s cutting accusation any further. ‘Thank you,’ Fleur said to the doctor. ‘I can take it from here.’
‘Well, there is the business of a death certificate, which I can write up—’
‘Please don’t do that.’
‘Pardon me?’ the doctor said, frowning. ‘I have to—’
‘Not if the cause of death is in dispute,’ Fleur said, her voice hard enough to throw stones at.
‘Fleur . . .’ he began
‘Listen to me,’ she said, forcing him to meet her gaze and not be tempted to flick it towards Irma. ‘You’ve known me a lot of my life.’
He nodded.
‘And you’ve known my father very well. I suspect you would credit us both with being of even temperament, not prone to histrionics or . . .’
He put a hand on her wrist. ‘Fleur, you’re in shock.’
She blew out a slow breath. ‘That’s true. I am. But my shock is not just that my father has passed away. It’s the manner of his death.’
The man frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Admit you know me to be sensible and calm.’
‘Of course. What’s this about, Fleur?’
Her stepmother cut in. ‘Doctor, I really think that Fleur has—’
