Classic Scottish Murder Stories by Molly Whittington-Egan Read Free Book Online

cyanide, is very rapid, as is wellknown. He will have hoped for instantaneous deat, but he seems to have been unconscious anyway. The minimum fatal dose is about one grain (solid) and about 50 minims (liquid). It was said that the phial dashed away by Sergeant Burley would, if full, have contained enough to kill 16 people. A few drops were still left in it. We may well suspect that a bottle of prussic acid was missing from his uncle’s shop in Musselburgh.
    It was a classic chemist’s suicide. For weeks, at least, he had had poison on his mind. Since he must have taken the cyanide with him to Guernsey, suicide was a pondered option if he were caught. Since he did not hold a return ticket, it might be argued that it was always his intention if he could form the resolution, and stop skating. More likely, he planned to lie low and then move on; he was obviously worried that his funds might not last. In reality, it is pretty clear that he had no idea what to do or where to go.
    An unusual procedural situation had been caused by the death in Guernsey, and the inquest was held, on February 22nd, in the Police Court at St Peter Port, conducted by the Procureur du Roi. Five witnesses were called. Constable Roberts attested that when he had removed the body to the mortuary, he found a purse in one of the pockets which contained 15 sovereigns, three half-sovereigns, 18s. 6d. in silver, and 1s. 4d. in coppers. This was enough for a short siege. The jury returned a verdict of suicide from prussic acid poisoning. Detective Inspector Laing, of Edinburgh, who had known the deceased for six years, had identified the dead man as Hutchison, not Henderson, and arrangements were made for burial under the real name at the local cemetery. There was no call for a return of the body to Dalkeith, and there were said to be no mourners at the graveside. The mother was in no fit state to attend, even if she had wanted to do so. We cannot presume to know what her wishes were.
    Hutchison had committed a very serious crime, a hair’s-breadth from a mass murder of 15 (could have been 18) people.The motive was obscure. It looked like an insane act, but his cool demeanour bothered those who sought for a merciful explanation. It was said that his father’s life was insured for £4,000, but the details have not survived. The wholesale nature of the poisoning might have been intended to disguise the specificity of the intended effect – death of Father. Everyone knows that wedding guests are sometimes stricken with food poisoning. It is just possible that he found a way to administer a larger, killing dose to his father. The grocer who died, and his mother, who very nearly died, might both have had little resistance to the smaller dose, for some reason relating to their health. Or, alternatively, three doses prepared and calculated to kill might have been administered. The information which has come down to us that the father and the grocer drank deeper may have been a mere rationalisation.
    Even so, it is tempting to hazard that there were psycho-pathological reasons, not just financial stress, for feeding poison to a multitude, for laying low the small, satisfied world of Bridgend – family, intended family, Freemasons and burghers – which oppressed a troubled mind. Soon, someone else would drive away his fine motor-car, his lost love-object.
    â€˜Poop! Poop!’

CHAPTER 4
‘OH! LOCH MAREE!’
    T he composition of meals which figure in past murder trials has an interest all of its own. One thinks of the Bordens’ breakfast at Fall River during a heat wave: warmed-up mutton broth, bread, bananas, johnnycake and coffee. Supper at 2 Wester Coates Terrace, Edinburgh, was a moveable feast before bedtime for the King family: bread and butter, cheese, jelly and coffee. An indigestible repast, one would have thought, and not even necessary, since steak or fish had already been consumed at tea-time.
    The family of four that