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Monk’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Did Lambourn tell her that?”
Rathbone felt a needle prick of anxiety. “Wasn’t she?”
“Yes, she was, but how did Dinah know? She claims never to have met her,” Monk pointed out.
“Then I suppose Lambourn did tell her. Seems an odd thing for them to have discussed.”
Hester was watching him. “You don’t know whether to believe her or not, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” he agreed. “I have a very strong feeling she’s lying about something, if not in fact then in omission. I just don’t think I believe she killed and gutted that poor woman.”
“Well, Lambourn did
n’t,” Monk said. “By the time she was killed he was long dead, poor soul.”
“If Lambourn couldn’t have, and Dinah didn’t, who did?” Rathbone asked. “Is it really just a ghastly coincidence that she ran into some murderous madman just at the time that Dinah came looking for her?”
“Did she admit to looking for her?” Monk asked.
“No. But you told me she’d been identified.”
“Only roughly. A woman answering her description,” Monk corrected him. “Tall, dark hair, well-spoken, but beside herself with rage or panic or opium-whatever it was, it made her behave hysterically.”
“Opium makes people dazed, slow, and clumsy,” Hester put in, “but not violent. They’re more likely to fall asleep than attack you.”
Rathbone was puzzled. “Dinah says someone in the government may have killed both Lambourn and Zenia Gadney,” he said, “in order to discredit Lambourn’s report, and then to have Dinah charged with murder and hanged, so the whole subject could never be raised again.” He turned from Monk to Hester and back again. “Is that possible, in your opinion?”
“Yes,” Hester said at the same instant as Monk said, “No.”
“Perhaps possible,” Monk corrected himself. “At least that someone could do it, but it wouldn’t work, and anyone but a fool would know that. It would bury Lambourn’s report, certainly, but not the Pharmacy Act in total. It would delay it, that’s all.”
“That’s what I thought,” Rathbone agreed. He bit his lip. “Which leaves me where I was before; Zenia may have been clumsy and vulnerable because she was out of practice at finding business, and also poor in judgment as to who was dangerous and who was as safe.” He looked at Monk. “Is there any part of Dinah’s story that can be proved?”
“Nothing I can think of that would make a difference to her case,” Monk answered. “No one even imagined she had anything to do with her husband’s death. At first she denied knowing about Zenia Gadney, and then she admitted that she did know of her, and that is what her sister-in-law, Amity Herne, says also. And from her slip to you regarding Zenia’s age, she has to have known at least a few details. After all, even the newspapers didn’t print such facts, because we didn’t know for certain ourselves. Zenia certainly looked quite well for her age, to judge as far as you can by body and texture of skin, hair and so on. Her teeth were very good. One of the people I spoke to put her younger.”
Rathbone remembered Dinah’s face, and her words denying the possibility of Zenia having misjudged Joel Lambourn’s nature. He frowned, setting down his spoon for a moment. “Dinah said that Joel and Zenia had known each other for fifteen years.”
Monk looked up sharply. “How the devil did she know that?”
“I’m wondering myself.” Rathbone was feeling more and more uncomfortable. He had never been confident in his judgment of women, and even less so since Margaret. Had he made a complete fool of himself in taking this case?
Hester touched him very lightly on the shoulder. “She’s likely to lie, or at least evade, regarding her husband’s affair with this woman,” she observed. “She must feel like a complete fool. She’ll try to find a way to explain it to herself, and not admit she was duped. I think anyone would, in her place.”
“Do you believe her?” Rathbone asked, turning a little to look at her as she walked around behind him.
“I believe her regarding Lambourn’s research,” she replied, sitting down in the third chair at the table. “I spoke to an excellent doctor I know, and he agreed with it entirely. He said the number of deaths among children is appalling, and could very easily be mitigated with a degree of control and more information made available to the public.”
“So Lambourn was essentially right in fact, even if his evidence was anecdotal?” Rathbone said.
“Yes. But I expect the anecdotes would only be added to give emotional power. He would have to have provided figures as well,” she answered.
Rathbone turned to Monk again. “Exactly what concrete evidence is there on his suicide? Mrs. Lambourn is claiming that it was murder. Is that possible?”
Monk frowned. “I don’t know. They say he was found on One Tree Hill in Greenwich Park with his wrists cut, and there was a considerable amount of opium in his body. I asked if there was a container of any sort found on his person, or near him, for liquid to swallow powder, or to dissolve it, or whatever form the opium was in. I got no answer, but I didn’t speak to the person who found him. Frankly, I thought Mrs. Lambourn was simply refusing to believe it was suicide because it was too painful for her.”
“That may be the case,” Rathbone agreed. “But we need to know for certain.”
Monk smiled. “We?”
