Frances pinched her lips and shook her head. The deeper she looked into the Forsyths and their dealings the muddier the waters seemed to get. She didn’t like it.
“Good heavens, something must be done about this,” said Florence.
“I agree,” said Finley, “but it is up to the police to put a stop to these sorts of things.”
Frances was looking at Fiona at the bar, but her mind was miles away. This whole hornet’s nest was getting more complicated by the minute. Did Ginnie know about Jack’s loan from Mr. Chan, and if she did, did she know the extent of it? And was that enough to get her killed. Frances found herself asking more questions than she had answers for. A position she preferred to get herself out of. And the prostitutes and the smuggling of women for that purpose.
Not only was that horrendous but how was Jack involved in any of that? The more layers of this rotten onion she peeled back, the more layers it appeared to have. She was beginning to see Jack as the rapscallion he was.
“Everything alright, Fran?” asked Florence. “You look lost.”
Frances looked up at her friend and smiled.
“Lost in thought, and I find myself in a difficult position. It’s getting harder to keep the whole thing together. All of this complicates matters and I find myself having great difficulty teasing out the motive for the murder of Ginnie.”
Finley nodded. Florence looked at Frances in silence for a moment.
“It appears that there’s more to Jack than we realized.”
Frances nodded her head.
“Why gold, I wonder,” said Frances, “what’s the purpose of smuggling gold?”
Frances looked at Finley and he shrugged.
“I’m not sure. Some have said that Chan has ties to the Chinese government as well as mainland crime groups. I believe that some in the Chinese government believe that in the years, perhaps decades, to come that gold is going to be more valuable than currency.”
“I suppose,” nodded Frances. “The pound lost twenty-five percent of its value in thirty-. one after we came off the gold standard. Even still, the value of gold has been almost stagnant for many years, has it not?”
Finley nodded his head.
“You’re quite right, from what I’ve seen gold hasn’t even doubled in over a hundred years. I’m just sharing with you what I’ve heard about the Chinese plans for gold over the long term.”
Frances thought for a moment.
“I suppose too, it depends what type of gold they’re smuggling. Do you know if it’s bars or coins, and if coins do you know which kinds?” asked Frances.
“I’ve heard that Chan is smuggling mostly gold coins but which kind I don’t know.”
“That’s very interesting, Finley, you are sure a font of knowledge,” said Frances.
“Well, you were right about us barmen. We lend our ears and people tend to use them.”
“What can you tell us about the Forsyths, particularly Jack?” asked Frances.
“Well, they didn’t come here very often. They seem to keep mostly to themselves. Ginnie was very pleasant. Didn’t drink much and had a warm way about her. Jack on the other hand seemed hot headed and not very patient with her. Not really sure if he loved her actually. At least from how I saw him treat her.”
“How so?”
“He was short and blunt with her. Sometimes unkind. I once heard him comment on the food she ordered here. I forget what it was, but he suggested that she not eat all of it as she was getting fat, and nobody liked a fat woman.”
“I see,” said Florence, “quite the gentleman.”
Finley nodded.
“Not to excuse his behavior but he was...is a man of loose control. As mentioned, he was up to his eyeballs in loans owed to Chan, and from what I’ve been told, they consisted of both gambling and opium based debts. I imagine living a life like that is quite stressful. You’re liable to treat others poorly.”
“What about any other vices he might have had a weakness for?”
“Women too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made use of Chan’s prostitutes. Not only that, but perhaps the worst part was what he was doing right under his wife’s nose.”
“What’s that?” asked Florence.
Finley looked at Florence and sighed.
“I really don’t think you want to know all of this, do you? I mean you’re friendly with them.”
Florence shook her head.
“Yes, well that seems like it was a long time ago. As I said earlier, I liked Ginnie more than Jack. There was just something about him that seemed a little greasy and oily.”
“Very well. Right after Roger’s death, Roger being married to Meredith and also being Jack’s older brother.”
Frances and Florence nodded.
“Well, it seems that Jack and Meredith got very close very quickly. On one occasion, Ginnie found Jack and Meredith in bed together. In her bed, the matrimonial bed.”
Florence put her hand to her mouth.
“No,” she said. “That’s probably the most callous and cold hearted thing I’ve heard so far.”
“He was a rascal and a knave. More than that, he seemed arrogant about it and without any compassion or sympathy as to his wife’s feelings.”
“I’ll say,” said Florence. “Do you think he would have killed her?”
“Possibly. Who can say for certain. She seemed to put up with it for years. But I had heard that she was thinking of a way out, of making a clean start. Maybe he was scared of that. Perhaps he didn’t want his dirty secrets leaving with his wife.”
“How do you know all of this?” asked Frances.
“I listen to people when they speak,” he said. “As my grandmother once told me. She said, ‘Finley, God gave you two ears and one mouth, and so you should listen twice as much as you speak’. It was good advice. It’s kept me out of heaps of trouble.”
He smiled and his face creased into warmth and his eyes twinkled.
“I like that advice,” said Florence. “More people should heed it.”
“I’ll also give you a little secret, though perhaps the two of you, being bright and intelligent women might not find it to be a secret at all. The staff of the well to do visit my pub when they can, and they carry with them the keys to all the secrets that go on behind closed doors.”
Frances nodded vigorously.
“Some in the upper classes seem to think that their staff standing in the very same room as they are not only invisible but deaf as well.”
Finley chuckled, then looked back at the bar. The Wet Whistle was starting to fill up now.
“You couldn’t imagine half the things I know about some of the upper classes around here. The guardians of culture and civility. Hardly, if you’ll excuse me, but these men and women of soft hands are more often tainted with the deadly sins than those they employ.”
Frances smiled at him, a small, kind smile.
“I don’t doubt it.”
“I should really get back to helping my wife. I think she’s getting overwhelmed. Is there anything else I can help you two with?”
He slid out of the booth and stood to the side as he looked at them for a moment.
“I think not for the time being,” said Frances. “You’ve been very helpful. Thank you Finley. Perhaps we can return if we have any further need of your assistance.”
“You are always welcome.” He paused and looked at Lady Marmalade with an eager face. “You will find the devil who did this to Ginnie, won’t you? She didn’t deserve it.”
Frances nodded her head.
“You have my word, Finley, that I’ll do my very best.”
Finley nodded his head towards Florence and she smiled at him as he left. She looked at Florence.
“My God, Fran, I feel as though I’m in over my head.”
“Aren’t we all.”
“Do you think he could have done it?” she asked. “Do you think Jack could have killed his wife?”
Frances looked at Flore
nce and smiled, shaking her head just a little from side to side.
“At this stage, if I didn’t have an alibi, I might even suspect myself.”
She smiled and Florence laughed out loud.
“You know just how to relieve the tension,” said Florence.
“Thank you, Flo. Though I do want to get to the bottom of this. For your friend’s sake. She does seem to be an innocent bystander to Jack’s philandering ways, which might be the reason she got killed.”
“Thank you, Fran,” said Florence, reaching out and grabbing Frances’ hand and squeezing it gently. “I want us to find justice for her.”
TEN
Chapter 10
IT was nine a.m. on Wednesday the 5th of April. Lady Marmalade sat in Florence’s living room enjoying a pot of tea. They were heading up to Blackpool, leaving on the ten a.m. train out of Puddle’s End. It would have them in Blackpool shortly after eleven all going well.
“So, Fran, you managed to get Inspector Gibbard to allow us to visit Enoch?” said Florence, cradling her teacup in her one hand, the other holding the saucer.
“I did, though he wasn’t particularly happy about it, but I don’t think he really had a choice. He said they had to release Enoch from their custody. The magistrate didn’t seem to think they had much of a case against him. Much to Hank’s protestations.”
“Well, I could have told them that. In fact, didn’t you suggest the same to him before he carted Enoch off?”
“I tried.”
“I mean, really, what good are the police if they won’t do a thorough investigation. Enoch might not be a choir boy, but nobody saw him with Ginnie at anytime around her murder.”
“True,” said Frances, “but there was the shovel tucking conveniently at the back of the shed.”
“Do you think that’s enough to get him hanged?”
“Depends on what kind of a barrister he can afford. It shouldn’t be. As you heard Jack mention, the shed is left open pretty much the whole day when Enoch’s around, in addition, Jack has a spare key that the butler keeps. That shovel by itself is hardly sufficient evidence to have Enoch found guilty. Though I must admit, Flo, as much as it pains me, that more innocent and better men have been found guilty on less.”
“I’d rather not hear about that.”
“I know, but it’s true. Sadly, our justice is not as blind as she should be. Or rather, I’ve seen her turn a blind eye to the justice of the poor.”
“A top up?” asked Florence, leaning in and picking up the teapot. Frances nodded and held out her teacup. There was a puddle at the bottom, no more than a sip really. Florence topped her up and Frances added in a lump of sugar and a splash of cream.
“You know,” said Florence, settling back into her armchair, the teacup and saucer held delicately in her lap, “I’ve been thinking about what Finley said about service staff and how much information they no doubt overhear.”
Frances nodded before sipping her fresh tea.
“In a way, I’m glad my housekeeper only comes in one day a week, and the gardener too. Being single, I don’t need full time staff.”
“And being single my dear Flo, they wouldn’t hardly be privy to any secrets unless you have a propensity of talking to yourself.”
Frances smiled at her friend. Florence laughed out loud.
“Yes, you’re quite right.”
“But you do make an excellent point. I often wonder what things Alfred and Ginny, my housekeeper, might have overheard that I’d rather they hadn’t.”
“I’m sure you and Eric are quite discreet.”
Frances nodded.
“Yes, but one can’t remain ever vigilant. Though I do usually take my calls privately and both Alfred and Ginny have the highest discretion.”
Florence sipped her tea and looked down at it in her lap before she looked back up at Frances.
“What are you hoping to find out from Enoch anyway. He’s a rough sort and I don’t see how he’s going to be happy talking with you.”
“I know, that’s the puzzle. I’m not sure what I want to find out from him. Perhaps I’ll learn more about what he doesn’t say than what he does. We’ll see. Might end up a pointless trip. But we can always go shopping after and have tea in Blackpool before we head back home.”
“I’m intrigued. How can you gather information from what isn’t shared?”
“It’s hard to explain, Flo, but if you keenly observe human behavior, if you watch how people move and adjust themselves when speaking you can often determine the truth from the lies and the misdirections. It’s not exact, but sometimes it shows me a way.”
Florence nodded.
“I see, you’ll have to tell me more after we’ve had our visit with Enoch.”
“Gladly. But back to your point about staff, I’m eager to talk with James and Agnus and see what sort of light they might be able to place over this murkiness.”
“Who do you think did it?”
Frances gazed at her teacup watching the tan face swirl ever so slightly, inhaling the sweet floral bouquet.
“Can’t quite say yet with any certainty, there’s still a good case of suspects. Do you have any thought on the matter?”
Frances looked up at Florence who put her left hand to her chest as her right held the saucer and teacup.
“Me...good heavens Frances, I wouldn’t suggest that I know who did it.”
“I know, but you must have a feeling, and that’s important, our instincts are often helpful in these things.”
“Well, I don’t know really, but if pushed I’d have to say I think Jack might have done it. There aren’t many other suspects really.”
“Who are the suspects?”
“Let’s see, Jack admits he was home, so he’s one, and the one I think might have done it. Meredith too, she also admits to being around the house when Ginnie was in the garden. And that’s it, other than Enoch.”
“What about Garrett?” asked Frances.
“Well, he was out wasn’t he, at the pub?”
“Yes, but not all the time. Additionally, we don’t know what time Ginnie was killed. She left for the greenhouse at about two, so we’ve heard, and Jack was informed she was dead by Enoch at about three thirty. Garrett only left, if he did indeed leave, we haven’t confirmed that yet, at about two thirty. So there’s a window of half an hour in which he could have killed his mother.”
“Good Lord, you’re right Fran. But I never would have suspected him of murdering his own mother.”
Florence’s forehead was furrowed in confusion.
“I’m not saying he did it. I’m only offering up the suspects. It’s important not to let anyone off the hook until you can prove they didn’t do it. And most of the time that is done through alibis. But there are other suspects too other than Jack, Meredith, Garrett and Enoch.”
“Who else could there be?”
“James and Agnus, the butler and housekeeper. It’s easy to overlook them, we oftentimes forget that our staff is there.”
Florence nodded her head.
“I hadn’t thought about them. You’re right, we easily overlook them, don’t we. But what sort of motive could they have?”
“I don’t know, but that is something we need to find out.”
ELEVEN
Chapter 11
FLORENCE and Frances stepped out of Central Station in Blackpool. It was busy. Over one hundred thousand souls called Blackpool home and that was without the influx of the millions of visitors from around the world, but mostly from the rest of Britain, who came for the leisure and beaches. The tourist season was not quite under way, May would see the start of the leisure seekers start to trickle in.
It was still cool in Blackpool and overcast, though it was not raining. Frances was wearing a red scarf over her neck and a red woolen jacket over her sweater. She buttoned up the top button of the jacket and shivered.
“The sea air is brisk isn’t it?” she said.
Florence nodded.
>
“More brisk than I was hoping for.”
Florence looked around for a taxi and found one sitting on the corner of the road. She went up to the driver’s door and the driver rolled down the window.
“Where to?” he asked.
“The police station.”
“You two in trouble again,” he said chuckling to himself. “Get in.”
The only items that Florence and Frances had with them were their handbags. This was only going to be an afternoon visit. As they drove along the promenade towards the police station, Frances noticed the looming Blackpool Tower, a mini Eiffel Tower, in the middle of town.
The green and yellow trams were active along the promenade too, but their double decks were not as full as they would be during the summer when they’d be bursting from the seams, full to overflowing with visitors. These trams did, after all, offer some of the grandest views along between the North and South Piers. The White Tower Casino, already quite a bit behind them was yawning no doubt, waiting for the tourists and their spendthrift ways.
Looking out the window and over at the beach, Frances was surprised by how many people she could see strolling along on what was such a dreary day. There weren’t a lot, but more than one would have expected on a day such as this one.
They passed the War Memorial and Frances thought back to the Great War. There was nothing that she could think of that made it great other than the great number of dead and injured on both sides. Some had suggested that almost forty million were dead or injured by the war, which included both sides.
Her head and eyes followed the memorial as they passed by it and she wondered about the names placed there, the men and their families who still carried the gaps and emptiness of their loss. She wondered if another war would carve more names onto this memorial and the others like it found all over England and elsewhere. She sighed and looked ahead. The future was all the hope they had. The past was done, but could they learn from it?
A few minutes later and a few turns and the taxi pulled up to a stop at the Blackpool Police Station. Frances paid for the fare and they stepped out and walked into the brick building where a constable was as the front desk doing paperwork. He looked up at them.
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