Apologies to readers confused by the sequence of chapters. I accidentally loaded Chapter 38 instead of 37 last night. I loaded Chapters 37 and 38 in the proper sequence now so you have get two at once. My bad! Stella D.

Chapter 37: Penhale Lines Up the Suspects

Tuesday Midday

"Come here, Doc. I want to show you something."

Penhale walked with Martin down the street to the police station. "By the way, the boys at the crime lab say they found some fingerprints on the drone-gun but they don't match anything on file," Penhale said. "It's quite the mystery. Mrs. Daniels has an alibi for when we were at Larkspur Cottage, she was in Truro shopping all day and CCTV footage proves it. The boys are getting a warrant to search the cottage."

"Hey, you're not secretly the one behind it all, are you Doc?" the constable prattled on. "Cause I heard about how in Port Liac they had some strange goings on recently, turned out it was the local GP gone mad. Of course the fellow who figured it all out is now the new GP so you never can tell. They said he's a Londoner like you but not a toss… well they say he's a nice fellow."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"It's just a joke, Doc," Penhale grinned eagerly as they reached the station. "This is what I wanted to show you."

In a side room Penhale had set up a whiteboard on an easel, with some photos taped to it and names written in marker underneath each one.

Martin was puzzled. "What is this?"

"It appears we have a murder on our hands, Doc," Penhale replied, looking pleased with his setup. "I need to go over the evidence, and I was hoping you could assist me. You've got an organized mind."

"Is this a standard police technique?"

"Well I've seen it on TV. It's a way of keeping track of our suspects and their motives, means, and opportunities."

"Hm." Martin was sceptical but willing to take a look at the constable's presentation. "So, who do we have here?"

"First up." Penhale pointed to a photo of an attractive dark-haired woman at the top of the board, whom Martin recognized as his former patient. "Rachel Angela Brading Wenn. Age 40 at the time of her death. Her body was found in her sunken sailboat but the cause of death was not from drowning but from having ingested a toxic substance."

"Clearly she died before the boat sank," Martin acknowledged.

"Someone staged the scene to make it look like an accidental drowning," Penhale proposed.

"But that hypothetical someone would know that if the boat was found and an autopsy done it would be obvious she hadn't drowned."

Penhale seemed stumped by that simple logic, but he ploughed on, pointing to the first of three photos in a row beneath the deceased.

"Well, let's have a look at our suspects. We have her husband, Michael Geoffrey Trevanion Wenn. Age 42. Scion of Portwenn's foremost family. He was suspected of having married for money because his family's manor house needed substantial repairs. He was also known to have been quarrelling with his wife over her suspected infidelities. I wasn't around when the first Mrs. Wenn went missing but my predecessor, P.C. Mylow, said in his report the husband didn't show much emotion over his wife's disappearance."

Martin was unconvinced by that statement. "Some people aren't comfortable with… um, public displays of emotion."

"Still," Penhale countered, "he didn't waste any time getting remarried, didn't even wait for the first wife to be declared legally dead."

"Right." Martin nodded.

Penhale pointed to the next photo in the lineup of suspects. "Loveday Anne Smith Wenn. Age 22. Originally from London. Michael Wenn found himself a much younger model this time around, not that she's much of a trophy wife. Rather plain compared to the first wife, if you ask me."

"Not actually relevant," Martin said.

"Maybe not, but what is relevant is that the second Mrs. Wenn lied to her new husband that she had never been to Wenn Hall, or even to Cornwall, before she married him."

"How do you know this?"

"Al Large came to see me yesterday after word got round that Rachel Wenn was already dead when her sailboat sank. Said he doesn't like to pass along gossip but Pauline Lamb thought it might be important. Anyway, Al said he knew Loveday Smith at school and in fact she was obsessed with Wenn Hall when she was a teenager, wanted to live there. Seems pretty suspicious."

"Hm. A case of erotomania, perhaps?"

"Eroto-what?"

Martin felt uncomfortable dredging up what had proved to be a very unfortunate misdiagnosis not so long ago, but he was more certain that it was applicable in this case.

"Erotomania, also known as De Clérambault's Syndrome. More common in women. They fall for an older man of a higher social standing, or a higher professional standing, and form delusional romantic attachments. Often associated with an excessive intrusiveness into the life of the object of the, um, irrational affection. Stalking, if you like. Although in this case, she may have formed her attachment to the manor house and the status it represents, and then stalked the owner as a means of attaining that status."

Penhale was impressed. "Very intriguing, Doc. I think you may be onto something. She could have murdered the first wife whilst plotting to take her place as lady of the manor."

"No evidence that she was anywhere near this area, or had any connection with the Wenn family, at the time of the first Mrs. Wenn's death though, is there. However, she was present when her husband and his dog apparently ingested something that sickened him and killed the dog."

Penhale considered this. "If Mr. Wenn was poisoned too then it he's not likely to have been the murderer, is he. Unless it was a clever scheme to throw people off the track."

"A risky scheme though. He could easily have killed himself in the process. And why poison the dog too?"

"To get sympathy?"

"Hm." Martin had no comment about that. "In any case, the housekeeper, Mrs. Daniels, was in the proximity both when Mrs. Wenn went missing and when Mr. Wenn fell ill."

"Right you are, Doc."

Penhale moved to the next suspect, who was represented by a stick figure drawing rather than a photograph. "I couldn't find a photo of the housekeeper, so I improvised. Agnes Daniels. Age 63. Scary old spinster that fools around with some potent plants, including of the poisonous variety. Seems to have had an obsession with the deceased. Maybe Mrs. Daniels had a case of this erotic-mania with the first Mrs. Wenn, only instead of what you described Doc she formed a delusional lesbian-type romantic attachment for a younger woman of higher social standing."

Martin was actually a bit impressed that Penhale was able to form this idea on his own. "Er, possibly. Why poison the object of her attachment though?"

"Jealousy? Either jealous that Rachel Wenn had gotten married or that she was having an affair with someone. Mr. Wenn said he knew his wife was carrying on but he didn't know who with."

"Well um… just a moment." Martin went out to the station waiting room where he had seen a small table with a stack of old issues of popular magazines. He riffled through them and quickly found one of the celebrity gossip type that people seemed to like so much. Sure enough there was a familiar face right on the cover. He tore the cover off and went back to tape it on the board at the end of the row of suspects.

To be continued…