The Westminster Poisoner Read Online Free PDF Page A

until you said he was murdered. You cannot blame us for what has happened.’
    ‘The villain will be someone at White Hall,’ added Mrs Vine hastily. ‘Perhaps a colleague who wanted his government post –
     it is a lucrative one, and lots of folk are jealous of his success.’
    ‘Or maybe someone did not like the fact that he was so revoltingly honest,’ mused George. ‘The Court understands that corruption
     is a necessary part of modern life, but Father never did. I will be more tolerant, when
I
take over his duties.’
    Chaloner was bemused – Vine’s post was not hereditary. ‘You intend to step into his shoes?’
    George shrugged. ‘Why not? I will be better at it than he was, because I shall not offend people by rejecting their bribes.’
    ‘I see,’ said Chaloner. ‘But I was thinking more in terms of your safety. Your mother has just said Vine might have been killed
     by someone who wants his job. If you are appointed, you will be at risk from poison, too – unless you are the culprit, of
     course.’
    George opened his mouth, but then seemed unable to think of a suitable response, so snapped it shut again. Itwas left to his mother to protest his innocence. Chaloner listened to her list of alternative suspects, but it soon became
     clear she was naming everyone and anyone in an effort to divert attention from her son.
    ‘The Court surgeon wants to examine your husband’s remains more carefully,’ he said, interrupting her tirade, and supposing
     there was no harm in putting Wiseman’s request. After all, they were hardly prostrate with grief. ‘May he have your permission
     to—’
    ‘No,’ interrupted George. He shot his mother another unreadable glance. ‘I have seen Wiseman in action, and it is disgusting.
     Dreary Bones might have been a trial, but I will not see him hacked to pieces by that ghoul. He will go in the ground whole,
     with all his entrails where they are meant to be.’
    ‘Why was your father working so late tonight?’ Chaloner asked, not sure what to make of the refusal. ‘Everyone else had gone
     home.’
    Mrs Vine shrugged. ‘Christopher and I live separate lives, which suits us both. To be frank, I thought he was upstairs asleep,
     and had no idea he was out.’
    ‘Did he know a clerk called Chetwynd?’
    ‘Of course,’ said Mrs Vine. ‘Why do you ask? Is it because Chetwynd was poisoned, too?’
    ‘The news is all over London,’ said George, before Chaloner could ask how she knew. ‘Everyone is talking about it, because
     it is not every day that government officials are unlawfully slain.’
    ‘No, it is every
other
day,’ quipped his mother. ‘Chetwynd on Thursday, and Christopher tonight. We shall dine on this for months, because
everyone
will want to befriend the kin of a murdered man.’
    ‘I imagine that depends on who is revealed as thekiller,’ said Chaloner, aiming for the door. He had had enough of the Vines for one night. ‘And the authorities
will
catch him. You can be sure of that.’
    ‘Why bother?’ asked George, going to refill his goblet. ‘Dreary Bones will not be missed.’
    Although the wind was not as fierce as it had been earlier, it was still strong enough to make the trees in nearby Tothill
     Fields roar. The air was full of flying debris – mostly twigs, dead leaves and dust, but also human rubbish, including discarded
     rags, sodden bits of paper and even scraps of food. Chaloner was disgusted when a rotting cabbage leaf slapped into his face,
     and was relieved when he finally managed to flag down a carriage to take him back to Wapping.
    It was a long way to Greene’s house, which, at sixpence a mile, delighted the hackneyman. The coach was determinedly basic,
     with a wooden seat bristling with splinters and a mass of squelching straw on the floor. It stank of horse and vomit, and
     there were no covers on the windows to protect passengers from inclement weather – the owner was apparently of the belief
     that if he was