Four Red Diamonds (A Lady Marmalade Mystery Short Story Collection Book 1)

by Jason Blacker

  Lady Marmalade nodded.

  “It was,” she said.

  “Good,” said Inspector Pearce twirling the right handlebar of his mustache, “the first break in the case.”

  “Perhaps,” said Fran, “but Rufina said she was with Maude in the morning. The cigarette I saw in the ashtray was still smoking somewhat. It couldn’t have been left more than five or so minutes before. Rufina is also wearing lipstick. Not to say she couldn’t have left the cigarette in the study before she put on her makeup, but something to bear in mind.”

  “Good point,” said Inspector Pearce.

  He looked over at the other people in the room. They had spoken to everyone except for Ambrose's son, Jasper Bloomfield, and his wife, Mahulda. Inspector Pearce looked about the room and didn't see them. They were outside, standing on a concrete patio slab, looking out towards the ocean.

  “Let's go have a chat with Jasper Bloomfield and his wife Mahulda,” said Pearce, looking out the two large glass doors that exited onto the outdoor patio that Mahulda and Jasper were standing on.

  It was still warm and sunny outside. They were both facing the ocean. Frances went up to Mahulda.

  “How do you do?” she asked.

  Mahulda turned around and looked at Frances. Frances had her hand out. Mahulda took it.

  “Hello,” Mahulda said.

  “I'm Lady Frances Marmalade and this is Chief Inspector Devlin Pearce of Scotland Yard,” said Frances looking at Pearce.

  Mahulda looked over at Pearce.

  “How do you do,” she said, shaking hands with Inspector Pearce.

  Then she turned to Frances.

  “So, you're the sleuth that Harry has said so much about?” she said.

  Frances smiled.

  “He's too kind. I'm just here to watch and learn how Inspector Pearce, the professional, solves this murder, for which you have my condolences.”

  Mahulda nodded.

  “Yes, this is a terrible business,” she said.

  Lady Marmalade turned to look at Jasper. He had on a cream colored vest and cream colored slacks. His face was tanned and rugged and his brown hair an unruly mess. His hands were thrust in his trousers’ pockets. He looked at Frances with steely blue eyes.

  “I am sorry for your loss,” she said to him smiling.

  He nodded and then looked down at his feet. He was tall and lean like his father.

  “I hope you understand that we need to ask you some questions, to try and solve this murder as quickly as we can so that we can be out of your business,” said Inspector Pearce.

  Jasper nodded, keeping his eyes on the concrete below his feet.

  “We understand,” said Mahulda.

  Jasper took his hands out of his pocket and his left hand held a lighter. He took his right hand and reached in under his vest and pulled out a package of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He offered them around. Everyone declined. He pulled one out for himself and lit it. Then he put his lighter back in his left pocket.

  “How long have you been here in Hightown?” asked Pearce.

  “We arrived just a few days ago,” said Mahulda. “The family was having a meeting regarding some of the discrepancies that were occurring with the business, so we came up to attend.”

  “Came up from where?” asked Pearce.

  “Australia,” said Jasper.

  “You live there now?” asked Pearce.

  Jasper nodded.

  “Have for the last three years, now. Glorious place. Sunshine all the time and warm weather. Suits us very well, doesn't it love,” he said to his wife, putting his left hand around her waist.

  “What exactly are some of the problems that the business is encountering?” asked Frances.

  “I'm not sure, really,” said Mahulda.

  “I can answer that,” said Jasper. “There's money being 'lost' somehow, and that's causing a problem. The business is barely meeting payroll and debt, from what I understand, and if this leak isn't stopped, well, Bloomfield Confectioners might end belly up.”

  “Do you have any idea how this money might be missing, or rather, where it is being spent?” asked Pearce.

  “I do,” said Jasper inhaling on his cigarette. “I think my father is spending it on that woman he's been seeing.”

  “And who is that?” asked Frances.

  “Agnes Bennett,” he said.

  “But isn't the company losing substantial amounts of money? Surely, a little spending money for your father's friend would be hardly missed at all?” asked Frances.

  “Agnes Bennett is not a cheap companion,” he said.

  “Can you explain that, Mr. Bloomfield?” asked Pearce.

  Mahulda looked off behind her, towards the ocean. Jasper tapped ash onto the patio.

  “She has expensive tastes, Inspector,” said Jasper. “She has a rather large home in Perth and the most expensive tastes in food, clothing and entertainment. She's also up here several times a year. I wouldn't be surprised if she's costing the business thirty thousand pounds a year. And with the way sales have been, Bloomfield Confectioners would certainly miss thirty thousand pounds.”

  Frances nodded. That was quite the substantial amount of money.

  “How do you know all of this?” asked Pearce.

  “I've made inquiries, Inspector. There are more worthy charities, if you can call it that, for the Bloomfield money than the gold digger Agnes Bennett. I hired a private investigator in Perth and from his assessment; this is the kind of money that she's likely to be spending each year. Thanks to my father's indiscretions. However, Owen would probably have a much better idea of where that money is going, if he can ever get his hands on the ledgers. Which, hopefully, now he'll be able to,” said Jasper.

  “And what is your involvement in the business?” asked Pearce, jotting notes in his notebook.

  “Not much, though I get a monthly stipend. I'm hands off as far as the day to day running of the business is concerned,” said Jasper.

  “Why is that?” asked Pearce.

  “We're very busy on the ranch,” said Mahulda. “We have a thousand head of cattle down there, and it's a lot of work, and indeed money, to get it off the ground.”

  Frances nodded.

  “Yes, I can imagine. Quite laborious too I bet.”

  Mahulda nodded.

  “Oh, you have no idea, Lady Marmalade. Sometimes I think we're drowning in it,” said Mahulda.

  Frances smiled.

  “Please, call me Frances or Fran,” she said.

  “Did you see your mother today?” asked Pearce, bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand.

  Jasper nodded, dropped his cigarette to the floor and squashed it out.

  “I did. I saw her not long before my father discovered her dead,” he said.

  “And what time would you say that was?”

  “Oh, I can't say for certain. Probably a little before two-thirty I imagine,” said Jasper.

  “What did you and your mother talk about?” Pearce asked.

  Jasper looked at the patio and kicked away his cigarette butt. He had his hands back in this trouser pockets.

  “Well, frankly, the conversation did not go over well.”

  “I see,” said Pearce, “why not?”

  “I asked her for an increase in my monthly stipend. She was not happy about that and she adamantly refused. We got into a bit of a row about it and I told her that if she kept a closer eye on father that she'd easily have more than the amount of money I needed and she wouldn't have to let any of the girls go. She asked what I meant, and I told her that father had expensive tastes. She wanted to know what I meant about that, but I didn't clarify.”

  “So you were suggesting that your father was spending money on Agnes Bennett then?” asked Fran.

  “Yes, but you see, I have no hard evidence, or specific proof other than a jolly good idea and the information my man in Perth uncovered,” said Jasper. “My mother, God bless her, was more worried about my father's staf
f, than her own friend.”

  “Getting back to the money you wanted. How much were you asking for?” asked Pearce.

  “I was asking for an additional five thousand pounds,” said Jasper.

  “A year I take it?” asked Pearce.

  “Yes, of course a year, Inspector, we don't have that kind of money,” said Jasper exasperatingly.

  “It's very expensive to run a ranch,” offered Mahulda. “Especially when you're just starting out. Fifteen thousand pounds is not much. Twenty, would have been a great help.”

  Pearce twirled his mustache again.

  “Would it be fair to say then, that when you left your mother, she was still alive?” Pearce asked Jasper.

  Jasper looked up at him and furrowed his brow.

  “Yes, Inspector, it would be very fair to say that,” answered Jasper.

  “Were you smoking when you visited your mother in the study today?” asked Frances.

  Jasper looked at her with a furrowed brow too. Then he looked up off to the side.

  “I don't know, maybe, yes, probably. Yes, I was probably smoking during the visit,” he said.

  Pearce looked at Frances. Frances smiled at him and shook her head.

  “Well, that'll be all for now then. When are you leaving for Australia?” Pearce asked.

  “Our ship sails in a fortnight,” said Mahulda. “We'll be here until then.”

  “Good,” said Pearce.

  Lady Marmalade and Inspector Pearce headed back inside.

  “Well, it appears as if we have our smoking cigarette,” said Pearce.

  Frances nodded.

  “Yes, Inspector, it does indeed seem we have found the smoking cigarette,” agreed Frances.

  “And it also appears as if we have four good suspects. At least at the moment,” said Pearce.

  “Who do you think they are?” asked Frances.

  “The brother in law, Owen Bloomfield. He had his disagreements with how involved Nana, or Maude Bloomfield, was with the business. Sounds like she was not running it as efficiently as he might like?”

  “Agreed,” said Frances.

  “Then we have Agnes Bennett, who has been having an affair with Maude's husband Ambrose. She has a lot to gain from Maude's death. She now inherits Maude's place, next to Ambrose, which is likely where she wants to be.”

  Frances nodded.

  “There's also that young lady, Rufina Pritchard, who came all this way looking for a job, only to find that promise unfulfilled. She might have better luck now that Maude is dead, especially if she can cozy on up with Owen, who doesn't seem to think the layoffs are necessary.”

  “I agree there, too,” said Frances.

  “And lastly, we have her son Jasper. Five thousand pounds is a substantial amount of money. He might have killed his mother in a fit of rage because she wouldn't give him the extra money. Mahulda herself mentioned how expensive running a ranch is and they might be out of luck with it now.”

  “Very good Inspector, I like your reasoning for them all. However, I might like to add one overlooked suspect,” said Frances.

  “Oh, yes, who might that be?”

  “The one person who has perhaps the most to gain. Ambrose Bloomfield.”

  “I see,” said Pearce with his one eye arched. “How so?”

  “Well, with his wife out of the picture, he now has carte blanche to marry Agnes. And watching them, they sure to seem to dote on each other.”

  Frances and Pearce looked over at the couple, standing off in the corner, huddled in quiet conversation. Harry was no longer with them.

  “I like it,” said Pearce. “You've just made more work for me. Now we have five suspects. Would you like to add a sixth or seventh.”

  Pearce grinned at Lady Marmalade.

  “Not quite at the moment, Inspector, but let's see what tomorrow brings us. Would you mind if I joined you for a trip into the city to talk to Hester Rees.”

  “Right, I had forgotten about her. I'll pick you up at the Appleback's then at eight a.m. sharp.”

  “Thank you Inspector,” said Frances.

  And with that, Inspector Devlin Pearce of Scotland Yard, left with his Bobby who was waiting for him at the far end of the room. Harry came back in to see how she was doing.

  “I think I'd like to head back home, if you don't mind,” she said to him.

  “Not at all, I drove Genevieve back a little while ago. Hard to be in a home of death, especially when these good people were known to us. Such a tragedy,” he said.

  Frances nodded. They left after offering their condolences once again. It was after supper time when Frances arrived back at the Appleback's, and Genevieve had prepared a wonderful dinner for them. Frances was famished. Her brain was working overtime trying to put the pieces of the puzzle of who killed Nana Bloomfield, back together.

  At eight am sharp, Inspector Devlin Pearce was at the Appleback's residence to pick up Frances Marmalade. The morning was crisp, the sky was blue, and white smudges of clouds dotted the sky. It was a good day to be alive. Sadly, not everyone was blessed with that good fortune.

  Pearce knocked at the front door and Lady Marmalade answered it. She had said her goodbyes to her good friends Harry and Genevieve Appleback, though both of them were there to see her off.

  “Ready?” asked Pearce.

  “Absolutely,” said Frances, wearing a light overcoat, sensible shoes, pants and of course a scarf over her curly brown hair. Professionally dyed.

  They climbed into the police car. It was just the two of them; Pearce had not brought one of his Bobbies with him. It was a forty mile drive, give or take, and Pearce hoped to get to Bloomfield Confectioners by nine a.m.

  “I've been thinking about the case,” he said as they drove along the road towards Manchester.

  “Yes, me too,” said Frances.

  “I've been thinking about what you said. I think we need to look into Ambrose a little bit more closely,” said Pearce.

  “Why do you say that?” asked Frances.

  “Well, you got me thinking. He didn't seem all that upset that she was dead. In fact he seemed downright consoled by Agnes Bennett. Further, we haven't asked him the hard questions to gauge his guilt. Out of respect, I didn't ask him if he had actually killed his wife. And perhaps we should,” said Inspector Pearce.

  “Well, I don't think he'd tell you if he did actually kill her,” said Frances.

  Pearce looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “No, of course he wouldn't. But I bet we could gauge his sincerity. Like that chap Owen, I got the sense he was telling the truth when he said he didn't kill her. What do you think?”

  “I'm not willing to rule anyone out at the moment Inspector. Owen might not have done it, but he didn't actually come out and say that he didn't kill her. Not exactly in those words.”

  Inspector Pearce's brow furrowed as he thought for a moment.

  “I'll have to check my notes, I thought he did say that,” said Pearce.

  Lady Marmalade shook her head.

  “No, not exactly, Inspector. He got exasperated that you'd have the audacity to ask such a question, but he didn't actually say he didn't kill her.”

  “Hmm,” said Pearce.

  “In any event, I don't think he's good for it,” he said.

  “Well, perhaps not. I'm still keeping an open mind. However, at this stage it does look like it might have been a man that murdered her. Especially if she was strangled,” said Frances.

  “She was most definitely strangled, Fran, didn't you see the marking around her neck. Clearly, it was by the scarf.”

  “Yes, I agree it certainly looks that way, but there was something a little odd about it. It didn't seem as violent as I would have expected.”

  “Have you seen many strangulations Fran?” asked Inspector Pearce.

  “Just a few,” she said.

  “Well,” said Pearce, “there is both time and strength involved in a strangulation. You can do it softly and take your
time or you can do it quickly by exerting more force. This one seemed somewhere in the middle.”

  “I see,” said Frances, “it just seems odd. I can't imagine a man using a woman's scarf to strangle a woman, and yet, strangling doesn't seem a very feminine way to kill someone.”

  “You're quiet right, Fran. Strangling is usually a man's way of murder. Though there are always the exceptions to prove the rule. Though in this instance, I fancy a man as the murderer.”

  Pearce looked over at Frances. She was looking straight ahead, watching the trees pass by as they rode along in Scotland Yard's police car.

  “I don't know if I fancy anyone for it yet,” said Frances, her eyes still looking front.

  “So it was a ghost, then?” asked Pearce with a sly smile.

  Lady Marmalade looked over at him and smiled dryly.

  “Perhaps a ghost,” she said, “or perhaps someone trying to be perceived as a ghost.”

  The rest of the long trip was mostly quiet with some idle chit chat unrelated to the murder investigation of Maude Bloomfield.

  As they entered Manchester city Frances spoke again.

  “If we can find out whose scarf it was that was used to strangle Maude, we might get a clearer picture of the culprit.”

  Inspector Pearce nodded as they pulled up in front of the manufacturing plant of Bloomfield Confectioners. Since 1897, the placard on the front said. Though it was faded and it could use a fresh coat of paint.

  Inside the building on the top floor overlooking the manufacturing floor were the offices. A receptionist looked up as Inspector Pearce and Frances made their way towards her.

  “Good morning,” she said in a very perky, very professional manner.

  “Inspector Pearce of Scotland Yard here to interview Hester Rees,” he said.

  “Yes, certainly sir,” she said, “Mr. Bloomfield said you'd be here. You can use his office.”

  She got up from around the back of her desk and led them to Ambrose Bloomfield's office. It was large and looked out onto the street and on the opposite side it looked out over the manufacturing floor. The desk was large and expansive with a picture of the deceased on the corner of it. There was a sofa and a couple of spare chairs on the opposite side of the desk.

  “I'll be right back with Miss Reese, Inspector,” the receptionist said, leaving them alone in the room.