Absolute Poison Read Online Free Page B

before he led her onto the discovery of Clive Barstaple's grisly death. “What time did you find the body?”
    “It was about 6.30.” She blew her nose firmly with a large, practical men's handkerchief before she stuffed it back in her overall pocket. “In the normal way of things I wouldn't have been the one to find him at all. I don't usually do this floor,” she explained. “Only Dot—Mrs Flowers, the regular cleaner—had some family trouble last week. Her lad.” She shook her head sympathetically. “From something she let slip one time, he's obviously a bit of a handful. Drugs,” she added darkly. “Poor Dot had to pay his fine last time. He's in hospital up in Birmingham. Overdose, I shouldn't wonder. Anyway, Dot said she was going up there and wouldn't be in to work on Monday.”
    “When did she ring you?”
    “Friday night.” Mrs Collins paused and clenched her work-thickened fingers together in her lap before adding, “You never know what trouble's waiting for you, do you? Thank God my lads are no bother.”
    “Did she say what hospital her son was in?”
    Mrs Collins shook her head. “She didn't say a lot at all. She's never been a chatty woman at the best of times and with getting such news it was hardly that, was it? And her on her own, too. I dare say the boy's missed a firm hand.”
    Rafferty nodded.
    “Anyway, as I said, she rang me and told me she didn't expect to be in all this week, so I rang the boss, Mr Arnold, Ross Arnold—he owns Allways Cleaning Services—and he sent Mrs Chakraburty to cover. Only she's not so good on her legs—she told me she had rickets when she was young, and can't manage stairs very well—usually she does one of the local supermarkets—so I said I'd do the first floor.”
    “I see.” Rafferty paused. “I gather from my constable here that Mr Barstaple—the dead man,” he added as he saw her blank expression, “was collapsed over his desk when you found him?”
    “That's right. I thought he was just feeling poorly and taking a nap as he was slumped on the desk with his head on his arms. I didn't notice the mess in the bin or on his clothes at first—my eyesight's poor, you see and my sense of smell was never what you could call good. I didn't want to startle him when I turned on the hoover, so I gave him a shake to wake him. But as it turned out it was me who had the start. As I told your young officer.” She nodded at Smales who blushed and buried his head back to his notebook, “I just shook the poor man by the shoulder, and the next thing I knew, he'd tumbled to the floor, chair and all.”
    She paused, took a deep breath and carried on. “I hadn't been able to see his face before. It gave me quite a turn, I can tell you.” She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket again and, after blowing her nose, gripped the cotton square tightly. “Poor man and him so young. Still,” she added brightly, “gastric can be a terrible thing and there's been a lot of it around lately. I suppose it strained his heart?”
    Rafferty made no comment on this. “I gather you didn't know him personally?”
    Ada Collins shook her head. “No. The staff were usually gone by the time we got here. Sometimes, one or two would be working late, but I never saw this man before. Barstaple you said his name was?”
    Rafferty nodded.
    Her lips pursed at this and her gaze narrowed thoughtfully. “I remember now; he was the one nobody liked. I'd once or twice overheard some of the staff talking about him,” she explained. “Barstaple the Bastard”, they called him.”
    Rafferty glanced at Smales who had been frantically scribbling to keep up. But as Mrs Collins said this he looked up with shining eyes. His expression said it all. What did I tell you, sir? it said. Someone's murdered him.
    Rafferty's gaze narrowed warningly and Smales dropped his own back to his notebook.
    “What did you do then?”
    “I let out such a yell that the others came running—even Mrs