Chapter 8: A 'perfect' murder

Chapter 8: A ‘perfect’ murder

Suddenly, I heard footsteps. I hid myself in the shadows against the wall. I saw the shape of a man at the end of the corridor. He started to come towards me. At Stella Vixon’s door, he stopped and knocked quietly. She didn’t answer, so he knocked again, louder. He began to walk away. Then he came back.

‘Stella!’ he called, in a low voice. ‘It’s me… Edward. I must speak to you. You can’t refuse me. Not now.’

He tried to open the door. But it was locked. At last, he stopped, and went away down the corridor. I opened Charlotte’s door.

‘Charlotte! Quick! Get out of bed. Lock your door. And don’t open it again to anyone tonight. Not to anyone!

I hurried back to my room and locked my own door too. I was still shaking.

It was him. He had done it. Yes, Mr Blakemore had murdered his wife! And yet… it was impossible. He had been away in Wales. So he couldn’t have done it. Or could he? I got into bed and lay down. Perhaps he had put the poison into something before he went away. There was something… something I had forgotten about. What was it?

I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t go to sleep. My head was full of pictures… pictures and voices. I saw Mr Blakemore’s face and he said, ‘I’m all alone, Stella. You can’t refuse me now.’ Then I saw Miss Vixon’s face. Her eyes were red and she whispered, ‘I didn’t want her to die.’ She looked at me and said, ‘It’s terrible. Someone has murdered Mrs Blakemore!’ I sat up and put the light on again.

Midnight. It was going to be a long night. Suddenly, a picture of Mrs Blakemore came into my head. It was the evening of her death. She was weak and thin. I was helping her into the bathroom. She wanted to brush her teeth. She had a nasty taste in her mouth. Then what? Oh yes… she finished the toothpaste. I had to get her some more. It was an unusual type. Her husband… her husband usually bought it for her in Hastings!

I opened my eyes. I got out of bed and found my uniform. I put my hand into the apron pocket. Then I touched something hard and cold. It was the empty toothpaste tube. Of course! Of course!

So - it had nearly been the perfect murder. Mr Blakemore had made sure that he was away… far away in Wales. So no one would ever suspect him. He had put the poison into the toothpaste. No one would ever think of that. His wife would use it every day until it was finished. And the empty tube? It would be thrown away. So there would never be any evidence.

It was a large tube… enough for several weeks.

I turned the top and took it off. Yes… I could smell that strange, sweet smell again.

But how did he put the poison into the toothpaste? Injections, probably. Yes, injections of arsenic deep into the tube, through the opening. And what about the cyanide at the bottom? It was a long tube - too long for most needles. I examined the tube very carefully. I was looking for marks on the outside. Yes, there were two very small holes in the metal, near the end.

I put the tube back in my apron pocket. It was safe there. Now I had to wait for the morning. And the police.

I washed my hands carefully and climbed back into bed. I tried to go to sleep. But that was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see Mrs Blakemore in her bathroom. She was trying to get out every last bit… every last bit of the toothpaste. And I could hear Bernard’s voice: ‘Do you know, she’s so mean that she always uses up the last little bit of everything!’