Frances nodded.
“I think that’s all. Thank you so much, Finley, we won’t keep you, and I hope I don’t have to pepper you with any more questions.”
Finley smiled and climbed out of the booth.
“Not at all, I’m always your ever humble servant. Please do return if only to say goodbye when you leave. I’d love to introduce you to my wife.”
“I will,” said Frances.
“Cheerio,” said Florence.
And with that, Finley walked back to the bar and Frances watched as his wife smiled in relief.
“Well, should we go?” asked Florence.
Lady Marmalade nodded and they got out of their booth and walked out of the pub into the darkening night.
THIRTEEN
Chapter 13
FRANCES plopped herself onto the couch and Florence sat down in her armchair.
“Would you like a pot of tea, Fran. Everything’s better with tea,” said Florence.
“I think a cup would be just perfect.”
“You know what else I was thinking? You should ring up the coroner.”
“I don’t know, Flo, it’s half past seven, I’m sure he wouldn’t still be at work at his late hour.”
“Oh, go on, give it a try. I’m just dying to find out and I can’t wait another night to learn what we can from the coroner. If he’s not there, then so be it. But perhaps he’s a busy man and works late sometimes. Please do call. I’ll fix the tea while you speak with him.”
“If he’s there,” said Frances.
“Yes, if he’s there.”
“Very well, for my dearest friend, but I doubt he’ll be there. Mark my words.”
“They’re marked,” said Florence, grinning.
Frances picked up the telephone and asked for the Blackpool coroner’s office. The phone seemed to ring for an eternity. Frances was just about to put it down when a man answered it.
“Hello?”
“Oh, hello, sorry to bother, I was hoping to find the coroner,” said Frances.
“And who is this?”
“Never mind, I’ll ring back tomorrow.”
“Who is it?” The voice was more testy this time. “You’ve reached the coroner.”
“Oh dear, I am so sorry to be catching you this late, Dr. Blackstone. This is Frances Marmalade, I’m trying to help out with the Forsyth investigation.”
“The Frances Marmalade, Lady Marmalade?”
The voice had thawed now and warmth like honey came from the coroner’s voice.
“Yes, this is Lady Frances Marmalade.”
“Good heavens,” said Dr. Blackstone, “why didn’t you say so, my Lady. I was just finishing up and about to head out when the phone wouldn’t stop ringing.”
“I do apologize for calling so late, doctor.”
“Nonsense, it’s my pleasure to speak with you Lady Marmalade.”
“Please call me Frances, doctor.”
“If you’ll call me Levi.”
Frances chuckled on the other end of the phone.
“Very well.”
“So how are things going with the investigation? I didn’t know the Forsyths, but I’m always saddened by the apparent senseless death of a young woman.”
“It’s turning out to be more of a puzzle than I had imagined, Levi. More suspects than I can count and I don’t believe I have all of the information related to her murder yet either.”
“So you don’t think Inspector Gibbard found his culprit in Enoch Habbit then?”
“No, I don’t believe so, Levi. Whatever else Enoch Habbit might be, I don’t believe he’s the murderer of Ginnie.”
“I’m glad you said that, because I agree, and the evidence suggests he didn’t do it.”
“Can you explain?”
“Ginnie died from strangulation. Now the blow to her head was quite a bit more severe than it looked like at first glance. I believe that she might have died from those injuries alone if she hadn’t received medical attention. In any event, that’s a moot point because she was strangled.”
“So why do you believe that she wasn’t strangled by Enoch?”
“Because the strangulation marks indicate she was strangled by hand, and the size of those hands were on the smaller size.”
“So you’re saying a woman might have done it?” asked Frances.
“Not necessarily. A woman might well have done it, or a man with small hands. I’m extrapolating from the bruising and it’s not an exact science. It’s not like a glove, it’s a generalization. All I can say is that whoever strangled her had smaller hands than someone like Enoch. Smaller hands than your average man but a little larger than your average woman. So I’m afraid Frances, you’re looking for a man with smaller than normal hands or a woman with slightly larger than normal hands. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”
“Not at all, Levi, this does help, if only to eliminate Enoch as my suspicions suggested. All I have to try and understand now, is why. If I can determine why she was killed that might lead me to the who.”
“And are you getting clearer about it?”
“Slowly I think I see the dawning light of day clearing out the fog of confusion. But it’s too early to help.”
“Well, I hope you can get to the bottom of it. Between you and I, I don’t hold Inspector Gibbard in the highest esteem.”
“I understand how you feel, Levi, though I’m sure he must be reasonably competent to have made inspector.”
“If only I shared your enthusiasm.”
Levi laughed heartedly on the other end.
“If I may, Levi, can I ask if you’ve determined the time she was murdered?”
“Unfortunately, that aspect is not yet an exact science either. I’m afraid I can’t offer a narrower window than you already have. Just a moment.”
Lady Marmalade heard some papers shuffling on the other end.
“I see from what the inspector told me, she was alone between two and three thirty. Is that what you understand?”
“Yes, that’s my understanding.”
“That would appear to be the time frame in which she was killed. In fact, I’d have said between two and four, but since she was found at three thirty I’ll have to acquiesce to that. Sorry I can’t be more specific.”
“Not at all, Levi, I just wanted confirmation.”
“Happy to be able to help in some small way, Frances.”
“Well, Dr. Blackstone, thank you so much for taking my inquiries. I shan’t keep you any longer.”
“Not at all. I’ve heard a lot about you and my faith in finding justice for Mrs. Forsyth has been renewed. Please keep me informed, Lady Marmalade.”
“I will.”
And with that they said their goodbyes and Lady Marmalade hung up the phone and stood by it for a moment. Levi had been more helpful than he had realized. Frances could feel herself getting closer to uncovering the killer. If she could just find out the reason why, it should be all buttoned up within the next day or two.
“Everything all right, Fran?” asked Florence, coming into the living room and noticing Frances still as a statue standing by the phone. Frances looked around and saw her friend and then smiled absentmindedly.
“Yes, yes, everything’s quite alright.”
Frances came over to the couch and sat down. Florence placed the tray with the teapot, teacups, and accoutrements on the table between them.
“We should let it steep a few minutes more. Do tell what the coroner said,” said Florence.
“You were right, my dear Flo, you were right about two things. The first is that apparently, in some quarters my reputation does precede me, and the second thing is that he was there and willing to take my call.”
Florence smiled.
“Well, go on, what did he say?”
“He said something very interesting. He said that by itself the blow to her head could have caused her death in time, but that she was strangled and it was the strangling that killed her.”
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“So it could have been someone like Enoch with enough strength to do the job.”
Frances shook her head.
“No, I don’t think so. I believe any man or woman with a good swing could have caused enough damage with that small shovel and the evidence appears to bear me out.”
“How so?”
“Well, the clincher, Flo, was that Dr. Blackstone said that whoever strangled Ginnie had small hands. A man with small hands or a woman with slightly larger hands.”
Florence picked up the teapot and started pouring them each a cup of tea through the strainer. Each white teacup had a pink rose painted on its side.
“Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but both Jack and Garrett have dainty hands, if you can say that about a man’s hands.”
Frances nodded as she squeezed a wedge of lemon into her tea from a plate of lemon wedges Florence had brought in on the tray.
“I thought you might prefer lemon tonight,” said Florence.
“You know me too well. I did notice that about Jack's and Garrett’s hands. Did you notice James' and Agnus’ hands?”
Florence looked up from stirring her tea. It was creamy and there was sugar in it too. She smiled at Frances.
“No, I didn’t notice their hands.”
“Well, Agnus has large hands for a woman and although James’ hands seem average for a man, I believe they’re too big for having strangled Ginnie. Not that I’m certain, we still need to speak with him, and Agnus, but that’s my suspicion.”
“The evidence continues to mount in my favor, Fran, for Jack as the culprit.”
Florence smiled, and there was a twinkle in her eye.
“It certainly does look that way, but I have to disagree.”
Florence sipped her tea.
“Okay, Fran, enough already. Who do you think murdered Ginnie then. I need an answer, you can’t keep me in the dark if you know something,” said Florence grinning.
Frances picked up her teacup and held it in one hand, cradling the saucer in her other. She took a long, slow sip.
“Wonderful tea, Flo, thanks so much.”
“Oh, Fran, you are simply incorrigible. You’re welcome for the tea, but you won’t get any more if you don’t spill your beans.”
Frances smiled at her friend.
“I’m just teasing with you.”
Florence laughed.
“I know, but you must be fair, I’ve kept saying I think its Jack and you keep saying you don’t think it’s him. So then, who is it?”
“I haven’t ruled out Jack with absolute certainty, but you’re right, Flo, I don’t think it’s him. I’ll give you a hint. Did you notice Meredith’s hands?”
Florence shook her head.
“She has larger hands for a woman her size. I think, my dear Flo, that she did it.”
“Good heavens, Fran, are you serious? I’ve never heard anything so chilling in all my days.”
Florence put her teacup and saucer in her lap and looked at Frances with a mixture of bewilderment and shock.
“I am serious, Flo. I think she’s the one, I just need to find out why?”
“But what caused you to believe that she might have done it?”
“That’s a good question. I noticed a few things that started me towards thinking she might be the killer. When we first went to the greenhouse and saw Ginnie, one of the tools was missing. I knew it was a small tool and perhaps not up to the job of finishing Ginnie off with one blow.”
“I see.”
“And women, generally, in my experience, don’t often murder with a lot of blood and violence. You see, if Jack and Garrett had done it, I think they might have kept using the shovel multiple times. You see, Flo, I think this is murder of passion. In other words, the killer got quite worked up about something.”
“Go on.”
“And yes, Jack’s and Garrett’s hands are small enough to have strangled her, but I don’t think that is how they would have done it. So that left Meredith.”
“What about Agnus or James?”
Florence had recovered her shock enough to take another sip of tea.
“As I mentioned previously, I think James’ hands are too big and Agnus, well, I can’t seem to fathom a reason for why she would have done it. I’m not ruling her out, we must speak to her and see if there is some reason for motive. In my opinion, I have seldom come across staff who have murdered their employer without very good reason. It happens, but they’re not usually as emotionally invested in the relationship as people are when there emotional attachments.”
“That sounds reasonable, but is there any evidence?”
“I hope to find motive in the greenhouse. I think there’s something about the greenhouse that is important. I’m not sure what yet, but everyone agrees that Ginnie wasn’t much of a gardener, so I think there’s some other reason why she was in the greenhouse.”
Frances looked at Florence and Florence raised her eyebrows and shook her head. She had no idea what might lie hidden in the greenhouse other than tomatoes and other plants both edible and aesthetic.
“Maybe she was starting to garden as a sort of therapy. You know, having to live with her philanderer of a husband.”
Frances smiled wistfully.
“I don’t think so, Flo. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about that greenhouse that I think holds secrets.”
Frances took a sip of tea, absentmindedly as she gazed past Florence, her thoughts wandering and revisiting the greenhouse. Then she shook her head and focused back on her friend.
“In any event, did you notice how well dressed Meredith was when she came back downstairs shortly after we arrived?”
“Yes, she mentioned that she was just finishing up getting ready when she saw the police arrive, from her bedroom overlooking the driveway I imagine.”
“That’s right. She smelled wonderful, she had put on her makeup and she was dressed for the rest of the afternoon. But there were two things out of place that I think gave her away.”
“What’s that?”
“Her nails. She had applied makeup and yet hadn’t done her nails. Her nails were painted from the night before when we were all at dinner. They weren’t chipped or cracked either.”
“What was the other thing.”
“There was a scuff on her one shoe that she hadn’t managed to wipe off. Her shoes were clean, but I noticed as she crossed her leg that there was a scuff of dirt, same color as that in the greenhouse, that she had missed.”
“I can’t say I had noticed any of that,” said Florence.
“I know, it’s the small things, the little details that often give the murderer away.”
“I’m impressed, Fran, you don’t miss a thing. When are you going to tell Gibbard?”
“When I’m certain it was her. The one missing piece of this puzzle is motive. If I can find that, which I believe is hidden in the greenhouse, then I believe I have it solved. You see, Flo, I believe that when Meredith killed Ginnie, she must have gotten her fingers dirty while strangling her on the on the dirt floor of the greenhouse. That’s why she likely scrubbed her fingers clean but forgot to paint them again. And her shoes would’ve gotten scuffed and perhaps she was too hasty cleaning them when she saw the police arrive and thus missed a spot that gave her away.”
“Seems good enough to me, Fran.”
Frances nodded her head and took the last sip of her tea.
“I’m happy with it, I’d just like to button it down tight with a motive.”
“Well, Fran, I’m incredulous with your insights and attention to detail. I have no doubt you’ll find the motive.”
Frances smiled and nodded at her friend.
“You’re really a big help, my dear Flo, with your insights and conversation.”
FOURTEEN
Chapter 14
IT was a thin spoiled milky day as Frances and Florence sat in the living room enjoying their last cup of tea. It was thin because the sky ha
d a diaphanous veil of clouds across its face. Perhaps still in mourning at the loss of Ginnie Forsyth. It was milky because the sun burned through, offering hope for a brighter day, but this milkiness was spoiled because the sun was losing the battle. The gray hung onto the sky’s glower like the pallor of an old man stained from years of smoking.
Frances was looking forward to visiting the Forsyths again. She wanted some clarification on a few things. She wanted to explore the greenhouse in greater detail to see if she couldn’t uncover its secrets held within. She also wanted to speak with James and Agnus not only about their whereabouts but about anything else they might be able to shed light on, and she’d like to speak to both Jack and Garrett.
Garrett about his lying ways and Jack about his philandering. Though that subject needed delicacy. She wanted to know how much Ginnie really knew, and whether Meredith was privy to that.
“I hope, Flo,” said Frances, “that today I get some clarity on this awful murder. Maybe, if all goes well I can actually speak to Inspector Gibbard about closing this case.”
She looked at Florence over the rim of her rose painted teacup as she took a sip. Florence took a last sip of hers and put the teacup and saucer back on the tray on the table between them.
“I’m sure you will. You know who killed Ginnie, all you need know is to figure out the motive and that should put the whole case to bed.”
Frances nodded. The two of them were dressed, almost as twins in long gray dresses that fell well below the knee, their tops covered with thick gray cardigans. The only difference were the patterns. Florence was wearing an Aran style off white cardigan and Frances was wearing a cable knitted off white cardigan.
Frances hadn’t brought with her a large assortment of clothes, and certainly nothing in black as she wasn’t expecting to wear the colors or attend a funeral. Florence felt gray was appropriate and decided to join Frances in sympathy. Although, where Frances wore a plain navy silk scarf around her head, Florence was adorned with a gray snood.
Frances took the last sip of her tea and put her cup back down on the tray next to Florence’s. She looked up at Florence.
“Well, that’s that, I guess I’m ready to go.”
“Do you think we should ring them up first?” asked Florence.
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