Lady Marmalade Cozy Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3)

by Jason Blacker

  “I’d rather not. I’d rather surprise them. When people are surprised their defenses aren’t up and you can often get a more honest response from them than you would otherwise. I hope you don’t mind, Flo.”

  “Not at all, the person I cared about most in that family is dead and the more I learn about Jack and I suppose Garrett too, the less I like them.”

  “Shall we be off then?”

  “Certainly, I just want to pop out into the garden and cut some flowers.”

  “That’s very kind and a very good idea too.”

  Florence and Frances left the living room through the French doors and Florence went to the small shed up against the back of her house. She came out with a short length of twine and gardening shears.

  Frances watched as Florence looked for her best daffodils and crocuses, snipping them at a good length and arranging the clump so that the blues and yellows were in an aesthetically pleasing and varied pattern. She tied them off, not too tight and handed them to Frances to hold onto.

  She went back into the shed and put away the shears. When she came out, Frances handed the bouquet back to her and they reentered the house through the French doors and walked out again through the front. Frances had chosen to leave her handbag behind. As had Florence. It was to be a short visit and they were coming straight home after.

  The two of them walked along the gray dirt road with the thickness of the gray veiled sky as their canopy, dressed in gray, their thoughts leaning to the maudlin as Frances contemplated how the first time they had come visiting the Forsyth it was for a fun supper.

  The second time was supposed to be fun, bringing around the marmalade, but that visit had turned rather dour and here they were on their third trip. A trip made in mourning but she comforted herself in the fact that she knew now, almost with certainty who had killed Ginnie Forsyth, and she felt that the clues to the motive were hidden somewhere in the greenhouse.

  She looked over at the bright colored faces of the flowers in Florence’s hand. They were bursting with enthusiasm as their heads burst open with bright petals. Little did they know they had been snatched from the ground only to die drying upon a tabletop as an offer of sympathy.

  “So what do you want to do first when we get there,” said Florence, looking over at Frances as they walked along in step.

  “Well, I imagine that James is likely to answer the door, I’ll ask him if I can’t have a moment with him and Agnus. Then I’ll want to peek around in the greenhouse before speaking with Jack and Garrett. If they’re home. Though they should be, I can’t think of why they wouldn’t be. At the very least they’ll want to be planning the funeral I’m sure.”

  Florence nodded as they trod up the driveway towards the Forsyth’s estate. Their steps heavier than they had been the first and second time they had come visiting.

  Frances knocked on the front door and waited a long time. She was just about to knock again when she heard slow footsteps echoing towards them from inside the home. James answered the door, unsmiling. He looked ten years older and worse for it.

  “Hello, James, we’re here to see Jack and Garrett if that’s all right?” said Lady Marmalade.

  James nodded and stepped aside as Florence and Frances walked in. Florence smiled at him as she passed but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was upon the floor.

  “Everything alright, James? You don’t look so well.” said Florence.

  He shook his head slowly.

  “No ma’am, the police were here at three this morning. Mr. Forsyth has been murdered.”

  Florence put her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide and startled. Frances was taken aback too.

  “Jack or Garrett?” asked Frances.

  “Mr. Jack,” said James hardly holding Frances’ gaze.

  “Good heavens,” said Florence, and that was all she managed to say for several moments.

  Frances put her hand on James’ shoulder and looked at him kindly.

  “I’m sorry, James. This is a terrible time for the Forsyths. Who is here then?”

  James closed the door and offered to take their cardigans though it was cool enough inside to keep them on so they did.

  “Mr. Garrett Forsyth arrived not long ago. You just missed Mr. Gerald Forsyth and Dr. Garnet. Garnet left around eight this morning and Mr. Gerald Forsyth left just after nine. Ms. Church has been here since shortly after the police arrived.”

  In the living room the grandfather clock chimed once, sadly as if losing its voice.

  “Where is Garrett now, James?” asked Frances.

  “He’s in the study, my Lady, but I wouldn’t disturb him just yet, he’s in a very foul mood.”

  “Very well, is the greenhouse open, James?”

  “It should be, my Lady, Enoch arrived back this morning at eight and he usually opens it.”

  “I’m going to inspect it if anyone is wondering where I am.”

  Frances grabbed Florence by the forearm. Florence looked back at James as Frances started off with her, and she handed him the flowers.

  “Please put them in a vase, James. I’m so sorry.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  They made their way past the study where Lady Marmalade could hear the grumbling of Garrett inside, cursing about something or someone, behind the partially closed door. She couldn’t see him.

  They walked into the living room and through the French doors that opened out into the back garden. Frances and Florence walked in silence towards the greenhouse. She saw Enoch and Agnus talking by the side of the shed diagonally across from the greenhouse at the very end of the garden. As she entered the greenhouse, she noticed a couple of cars parked oddly at the far side of the house. That was why she hadn’t seen any cars when she and Florence walked up the driveway.

  The door to the greenhouse was open and it was in a mess. Planters had been overturned all over the place. Florence, to her horror, couldn’t see a spared plant.

  “Looks like someone’s been here before us,” said Florence.

  Frances nodded and surveyed the scene. At the far end of the greenhouse the tomato plants had been overturned as well. About a half dozen planters were overturned and the tomatoes upended. Frances walked down towards them. Florence followed her.

  All around, small and large planter boxes had been emptied and nothing was left except overturned plants, their roots clinging to stingy clumps of soil that had been left after the violence.

  “Somebody was looking for something in here and they were in a hurry it seems like,” said Frances.

  “Or maybe a few people were in here looking for something,” offered Florence.

  “You could be right,” said Frances. “But what?”

  She and Florence looked around. It was hard to make sense amongst all the mess. Everything had been turned upside down. Frances couldn’t see anything from where she was standing. She slowly walked around the greenhouse looking for clues. She didn’t find anything of note. Any plant that had just the day before been sitting comfortably in a box was now upended.

  The planter boxes were empty and everyone she had a chance to look at held no clues. If there was something in one of these boxes, it was no longer there. She walked towards the back of the greenhouse, coming full circle and saw something that looked out of place.

  Where the tomatoes had been before they were upended was not smooth dirt. But this was unusual, the rest of the greenhouse’s dirt floor was scuffed and held the prints of many shoes, but the three foot by five foot patch of dirt where the tomatoes had once been had been carefully smoothed.

  Lady Marmalade kneeled down and took a closer look. There appeared to be a length of loose wood just off the side. Only the smallest splinter of it was showing.

  “Do you see any gloves I could use Flo?”

  Florence looked around and saw a pair of green and white gardening gloves that she handed to Frances. Frances put them on and then tried to flick the piece of wood away. It didn’t move, but the dry dirt brushed a
way, showing more wood.

  On closer inspection it looked like a thin piece of wood was covering an area of about two feet by three feet. Frances brushed more of the dirt off the wood and it did indeed reveal a rectangle of about that size.

  “What on earth is that?” asked Florence, as she knelt down next to Frances to take a closer look.

  “It looks like a plane of wood under this dirt. Which seems strange.”

  Frances knocked on the top of it and a hollow echo sounded.

  “I think there’s a space underneath it. I might just have found what I was looking for. Can you get me a gardening fork or small shovel, Flo, I need to try and lift this up.”

  Florence got up and went to the front of the greenhouse which held the small tools attached to the wall. Frances inspected the wood more closely, there was no lever or handle with which to hold the wood and yank it off its base. Though it was seated flush against the rest of the floor but not terribly snugly.

  Frances took the small shovel from Florence and slid it into the small space around the edge of the wood. Using it as a lever she pulled the shovel towards her with one hand and the wood lifted up over the lip. Florence took a corner of it.

  “I’ve got it, Fran,” she said.

  “You should have put gloves on,” said Frances.

  “I didn’t see any.”

  Frances took the other corner with her free hand and lifted it up higher. The wood wasn’t terribly heavy and they lifted it up and slid it back towards the upended tomato planters.

  Frances looked inside. The only thing in the shallow hole was a wooden box measuring about a foot by a foot and a half. Frances leaned in and took it out. She stood up and placed the box on one of the tables nearby.

  “I’m intrigued,” said Florence, “what on earth could be in there.”

  The box was solid wood and about six inches tall. There was a keyhole with which to lock it securely, however, the top of the box and been forced open, leaving splintered and smooshed wood just above the keyhole where the lid closed on the top.

  Frances opened up the lid and it lay back against its hinges, a gaping mouth, screaming its secrets.

  “Very interesting,” said Frances.

  Florence went to put her hand inside.

  “Not yet, Flo, we need to take a closer look.”

  Inside were three pieces of paper folded, along with one hundred pounds in a variety of notes.

  “There seems to be something missing,” said Frances.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if you look at the papers, they’ve been replaced carefully, but there is a slight discoloration on most of them from the dirt and dust that must have gotten in here over time. However, this third of it looks as though the paper is brand new.”

  Florence looked and indeed, it did seem that one third of the top paper was unblemished.

  “And also, if you look at these two sides here,” said Frances pointing to the right corner of the box that was away from them. “The wood on these two sides is much brighter and newer looking compared to the rest. The rest seems stained by dust and dirt.”

  “Well, I’ll be,” said Florence. “I would have never thought of that, I was too eager to get looking at the papers.”

  Frances nodded.

  “I know, that’s how I was once, when I started, but as I’ve said before, it’s the details that are important. I wonder what might have been there?”

  It was a rhetorical question, the answer to which Frances wanted to find. Florence didn’t say anything. Anything she might offer would be pure speculation. France took off her gloves and picked up the three pieces of paper. She opened up the first one.

  “Dear Daddy,

  I’ve been looking a long time for you and I’ve waited patiently all these years to find you. My mother was Maude Daubney and she died giving birth to me. I’ve spent my whole life living in one form of destitution or another.

  So imagine my surprise when I found out how rich you were. I want to receive what is rightfully mine. You’ve never been a father to me and I don’t care for one. But you owe me or I’ll ruin your life.

  Meet me at the Fighting Cocks, Southport at noon, March 25th. If you don’t show up you’ll get your comeuppance.

  Yours,

  Lottie Daubney”

  The letter was dated Wednesday the first of March.

  “That was last Saturday,” said Florence.

  “I know. It appears that Jack has been a rake for much longer than we might have thought, if this is indeed true and he does have an illegitimate daughter.”

  “Do you think she might have killed Ginnie, or heaven forbid, Jack?” asked Florence.

  “I don’t know,” said Frances shaking her head. “This complicates things, though I don’t think she would have killed Ginnie.”

  Frances opened up the second letter and she and Florence read it together.

  “My Darling Jack,

  Oh, how I’ve missed you. You promised that we’d be together at the beginning of this year and now it is March already and I still don’t have you to hold and love.

  I know you said that money is tight but that you were still committed to saving enough for us to move to Argentina together. But when will this be. I wait and wait patiently in Liverpool, but each week without you is an eternity that breaks my heart.

  You aren’t cheating on me are you? I know that sounds silly but I’m already terribly jealous that Ginnie is with you daily.

  Please Jack, let me know we’ll be together, soon, forever. Or I’m afraid I might have to tell your wife. I know you don’t love her, but then why do you still make me wait?

  With all my heart and soul,

  Rachel Badcocke”

  Frances carefully folded the letter. This one too, was dated the first of March. She placed it back inside the box carefully.

  “My dear Flo, that letter is exactly what I was looking for. That is the reason I believe that Meredith killed Ginnie,” said Frances pointing to the letter she had just placed back into the box.

  “I don’t understand. Wouldn’t she be mad at Jack rather?”

  “The heart can be a petty and fickle pouting child. You’d think she would be more angry at Jack, but sometimes loves blinds you to the real culprit and you lash out instead to others. But I don’t believe she actually got to see it.”

  “Then why would she kill Ginnie?”

  “I think I’ll explain that later, Flo. I want us to put this back quickly. We’ve been out here a while and someone will suspect something soon.”

  Florence nodded and glanced up at the front door, it was almost closed, just a sliver of it open to the garden. Frances opened up the third piece of paper which was not like the others. It was a coarser piece of paper that looked like it might have been handmade. She read it silently with Florence leaning over her shoulder.

  “Eagles to Flying Chan. Good Friday. Noon”

  It was written in a very elegant hand. Just those seven words. Florence looked up at Frances and frowned.

  “That’s an odd bit, isn’t it?”

  Frances nodded.

  “Yes, but it is the clue as to why I think Jack was killed.”

  “Oh do tell,” said Florence, smiling.

  “In due time, my dear Flo, in due time. We must put all of this back into the box and place it back where we found it. I don’t want anyone to know we’ve uncovered this. This must be our secret until we’ve sorted it all out and we have the police on the trail of the murderer.”

  “Who is?”

  “Not quite certain, but we’ll find out soon enough.”

  Frances rearranged the papers in the order she had picked them up from inside the box and lay them back down in the same manner. She put on her gardening gloves again and closed the box. Then she placed the box into the hole beneath the greenhouse and covered it with the wood.

  Florence took the small shovel and began to spread dirt over its face until it was covered and almost impossib
le to see. Frances smoothed it out with her gloved hands and then they stood up and looked at their handiwork.

  “I don’t think anybody will know it’s here unless they’re looking for something like it specifically.”

  Florence nodded.

  “Where did you find these gloves, Flo?”

  “Just over there on that table,” answered Florence pointing towards the middle of the greenhouse at one of the tables littered with upturned planters and potting soil. Frances took the gloves off and placed them back.

  “I think we should get back.”

  As they exited the greenhouse, Frances looked off towards the shed at the opposite corner. Enoch and Agnus were no longer there. As she and Florence walked towards the house, Frances dusted off her dress by the knees. She couldn’t get all of the dirt dust off, but enough of it that you could hardly tell there was any there.

  FIFTEEN

  Chapter 15

  THEY were alone when they first entered the living room. But moments later James came in, still looking tired and as worn out as these days had been long. He smiled his best at them and asked if he could get them anything to drink. James was just about to leave when Frances spoke again.

  “James, is Agnus around?”

  “Yes she is, my Lady.”

  “Good, I’d like to have a word with her. But first, I’d like to ask you some questions if you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Please sit down if you’d like. I know you must be tired.”

  James sat stiffly in the couch and Frances sat in one of the armchairs while Florence stood by her side.

  “Before I ask you about Ginnie’s passing, the news you recently shared with us is quite shocking. Did the police say where Jack had been murdered?”

  “They did, my Lady. They said he was found at Albert Dock in Liverpool shortly after two in the morning.”

  “Did they say how he had been murdered?”

  “They said he’d been shot.”

  “Did they mention anything else?”

  “They wanted to speak to Garrett and Meredith but they weren’t available so they said they’d be back sometime today and to let Garrett and Meredith know.”