A Touch of Cyanide: Inspector Hadley Mysteries, #2

By Laura Walker

'Charity starts at home,' yet, there's one family in which Inspector Hadley doesn't find much loyalty...

1921: Mikey Hadley finds himself embroiled in a murder case when he is asked to meet Ian Anderton, an official of a charitable organisation, about a police matter. When he and Sergeant Scallop arrive on the scene, he is already dead and they begin an investigation into his untimely demise, starting with his brother, who was seen running away from the scene.

Meanwhile, Hadley must battle his inner conflicts as he finds himself struggling to overcome a disappointment in love.

A Touch of Cyanide is a 1920s mystery and the second book in the Inspector Hadley Mysteries.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Walker
• Release date: Apr 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223331926

Laura Walker

Laura Walker grew up in the Derbyshire Dales. She now lives with her husband in Staffordshire. She has been writing since childhood and specialises in ya romance, regency romance and mystery novels.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

S ir, Sergeant Scallop said as he banged on the door of Detective Inspector Hadley’s office at the London station.

Receiving no reply, the orange-haired sergeant turned to the staring eyes of black coal of the officer behind him on the desk who shrugged his shoulders.

He’s in a strange mood again, Sergeant. Could tell as soon as he walked in this morning. He was all of a daze, Travers said, lifting the square of grey hair above his upper lip.

He’s been getting these strange moods ever since that business with Lord Galitzi’s diamonds, a year ago. He always liked to be alone to think, but this is different, somehow. It almost seems like some kind of depression, Scallop said, thoughtfully.

The door to his office opened suddenly, and out Hadley walked, his sandy hair sticking up and in need of a brush. His unshaven skin desperately needing a razor to pass over it. Closing the door softly behind him without noticing either officer, he grabbed his coat off the stand, and put it on. He then moved towards the street door.

Sir, I have been trying to speak with you, Scallop called after him.

Hadley made no reply, but instead he opened the door and stood looking up and down the street. Then, he ducked his head back in again, closing the door.

Scallop and Travers exchanged curious glances as he opened the door again and turned to Scallop for the first time that morning. His grey eyes piercing him through. It’s all right, it doesn’t look like rain. Are you coming or not, Scallop?

Where are we going, sir? Scallop asked with some hesitation.

We have an official to meet, don’t we? he asked.

We do, sir, Scallop said, surprised that he was still on this planet after such a spectacular display.

Hadley rolled his eyes at Travers, who humoured him with a grin.

Shouldn’t you shave first, though? If you don’t mind me saying so, sir? It seems a little unprofessional? Scallop stuttered.

Hadley rubbed his stubbly chin. You're right, Scallop. I’ll be two ticks. He disappeared into the washroom to begin the process.

He reappeared some fifteen minutes later looking like a new man, and they started for Oxford Street.

Scallop turned to Hadley with his hands firmly on the steering wheel, George Sanderson is out, sir. I thought you should know. Then you can warn Lord Galitzi.

I know, Hadley said, thoughtfully.

Well, have you, sir?

Have I what, Scallop? he asked.

Warned Lord Galitzi?

Not as yet.

Maybe you should soon, sir, Scallop tactfully pointed out.

Hadley nodded. I’m on it, Scallop.

I know, sir. It’s just, with respect, you have been a little remiss recently, and I wouldn’t want... He broke off on seeing the angry look he was given.

Remiss? Hadley mumbled. His face reddened in anger.

I’m sorry, sir. You have not quite been yourself, if you don’t mind me saying so?

Well, I do mind, Scallop, Hadley said, glancing out of the window.

Forget I said anything. I'm worried about you, that's all. We all are at the station. Especially with Jacques away and everything.

No one has ever been, what you would call, worried about me before, and there is no need for anyone to be now. You can mind your own business, all of you, he said.

Scallop wisely remained silent.

AIDA, DEAR, ROSE SANDERSON called down the garden of their Brussels villa from the back door step.

Extending beyond the elongated swimming pool, the garden was huge and had a long, winding path to the side of a lawn stretching down into an orchard, and a summer house stood in one corner where Aida Sanderson liked to relax and sunbathe. Sometimes she would attempt to paint or sketch, but mostly she would sit and read a book.

The Sanderson’s had moved to Brussels from London where they had a town house that was shut up by the servants until further notice. Mr Sanderson had gone away to India on what he termed, ‘business’, but what really was a secret separation from his wife. Aida and her mother lived alone at Brussels with just three servants. A housemaid, a cook, and a lady’s maid.

The villa was extremely elegant with polished Baveno granite on the frontages, brass corner beads on each corner of the house and around the bay windows that were glazed with polished plate glass.

What is it, Mama? Aida asked, appearing in her mother’s view from the direction of the summer house. 

She wore a wide-brimmed, straw summer hat and her dark chestnut waves poked beneath it. She had on a simple low-waisted cotton dress and a thin shawl.

I want to speak with you in the kitchen, Rose Sanderson said. She went back into the house to wait for her daughter to catch up.

Aida stepped onto the marble floor of the kitchen with unique rosewood panels around the walls. What is this about, Mama? She took off her hat and seated herself at the kitchen table by her mother.

George has been released from prison, darling. I had it in a letter from Lady Hamilton this morning, Rose Sanderson said.

What is that to us? Aida said, unconcerned.

He is your brother, and my son, her mother scolded.

But I thought you said we had disowned him.

So I did, but I want to see him just now and we should let him know where we are. We owe him that much. Surely you agree with me?

I suppose so, Aida said with a sigh.

We are to go back to London the day after tomorrow.

Back to London? Is that necessary? Aida said, surprised.

Yes. Something must be done about the house.

Where is George living?

I haven't the faintest idea. That's what we must find out. You must pack, darling, Rose said as she stroked her daughter’s hair.

Aida complied with great reluctance.

CHAPTER TWO

M orning Dolores. How are we today? Edward Anderton said to his sister-in-law as he poked his head around the drawing room door of his brother's house.

Bored to death, Edward, if you must know. Ian has some awful business to clear up and I’m stuck here, Dolores Anderton lamented in her baby voice from the quilted sofa in front of the staircase. Folding one hand over her stomach, the other she held high, clutching a cocktail glass showing off blood red pointed nails.

She couldn’t have looked less the part of the wife of an official of a major charitable organisation with her short waves of buttery hair in a heavy side part, prominent rosy cheeks, and wearing the latest fashions from Paris by Madame Vionnet.

This morning she wore a dress of crepe de chines with soft heavy lines and looking like a series of handkerchiefs had been sewn together around the knees. 

I'm sorry to hear that, Dolores, Edward said, entering the room before an invitation was given. He sniffed the air and a sweet, sickening aroma of vanilla mixed with Tequila wafted across to Edward. You've been on the cocktails again.

She nodded, sipping the Tequila Sunrise.

Edward Anderton was not at all like his older brother, either in looks or ambition. Edward was tall with dark oiled back hair combed away from his face. He was also handsome and dressed in a stylish black suit. He was happy to play the idle layabout, and could well afford to do so. Ian Anderton, however, had a plain face, though he had the dark hair and eyes of his brother. He always had to be on the move, working towards some goal or other in life.

Edward helped himself to a