Gerald shook his head in disbelief, trying his best to throw off these accusations from around his neck.
“And you, Garrett, you were overheard arguing with your father in his study, when he caught you looking at his desk calendar. James overheard you telling your father you were just in there looking for a book. But in actuality you were confirming the information that Gerald shared with you about your father visiting the docks for his last collection.”
Florence saw it plain as day now. A conspiracy to rob Jack of the gold that wasn’t his so that they might not be all left destitute by Jack’s wicked ways.
“If I’m correct, Inspector,” said Lady Marmalade, “you’ll find that somewhere with Dr. Garnet or at his residence will be three portions of gold, each made up of seven 1933 American Double Eagle gold coins. One for Dr. Garnet, a second for Gerald and a third for Garrett. You should also find, on each of these three a letter signed by Mr. Gerald Forsyth promising to split the insurance with all of them equally.”
“How do you know that?” asked Gibbard.
“I uncovered evidence of it on the calendar upon which he had written the letter in triplicate.”
“Constable,” said Inspector Gibbard.
One of the constables moved forward to arrest Dr. Garnet. He leapt up from the couch and grabbed his doctor’s bag and as he did so, three red velvet bags fell out, clanging softly with the sound of heavy coins. He reached into it with his right hand and pulled out a Webley revolver. He stepped past Frances and pointed his gun at all of them, waving it around.
“I know how to use this. I’ve done it once. I can do it again. Ms. Church, if you don’t mind, please bring me those bags.”
He pointed the revolver menacingly at her. She got up from the couch and picked up the bags. She opened one up and pulled out a coin and looked at it. She started to cry.
“Judas,” she said, as she came up to him.
He held out his open doctor’s bag.
“Put them in there.”
The revolver in his right hand was tilting lower.
“You killed him for twenty pieces of gold, you Judas!”
She looked at the three bags in her hand and without thinking she struck him across the cheek. This was the second time. The moment she did that a loud crack could be heard as if lightning had just erupted in the living room.
Nobody knew what had just happened, until they saw Meredith fall to the floor and blood seep from a wound just below her heart. Quickly her white and black dress started to become stained with red.
A constable took this opportunity to tackle Dr. Garnet, wrestling the revolver out of his hand. The other constable helped him subdue Dr. Garnet. They both picked him up from the floor and the first one put handcuffs around his hands. The second one passed Dr. Garnet’s bag and revolver to the inspector.
Gibbard looked inside and pulled out a tri-folded piece of paper. He read it silently and then looked at Frances.
“This would be your letter that explains how Gerald was going to share the proceeds from the insurance policy between the three of them.”
“Constables,” said Gibbard. “Take these three men away.”
He came over to Meredith who was lying on the floor. He put his head down to her face and listened for a moment. James came rushing into the living room.
“Oh my,” he kept saying.
Frances looked down at Inspector Gibbard.
“Will she make it?”
He got up slowly and looked up at Lady Marmalade, still bent over her. He shook his head.
“I’m afraid not. She’s dead.”
Frances looked over at James and got his attention.
“Call the coroner please, James, and get a blanket too if you don’t mind.”
He glanced back down at Meredith’s still body on the floor, the blood had now trickled onto and stained the carpet.
“Yes,” he said, stammering, “yes, my Lady.”
And he turned around and was gone as if he’d just been a momentary apparition. The constables were pushing Gerald and Garret and Luther from the living room. Garrett looked back at them.
“It was never supposed to be like this. What was I supposed to do, I’ve never worked a day in my life. I was just supposed to get a second chance.”
It seemed to Lady Marmalade as she stood there, still in shock, that second chances had long run out in the Forsyth household. She looked over at Florence who had her hand over her mouth, and who was now standing bolt upright, quite still, her eyes looking down at Meredith.
“Good heavens,” she said. “This can’t be.”
Frances walked up to her and placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder.
“Those beggars be buggered,” said Florence. “I hope there’s no pardons for any of them.”
Lady Marmalade didn’t know what to say. She’d helped to find justice for Ginnie, but the price had been heavy and paid ten times over. She turned and looked at Gibbard. He was standing over Meredith, looking down at her, his face grim and stoic but his eyes hollow. Perhaps he’d seen too many dead bodies in his day. Perhaps she had too.
“I’m sorry I got you involved in this, my dear Flo.”
That was all she could say, and it sounded hollow. No words help after the dead have gone silent. The pause is the end and the end is final.
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I write two mystery series. A cozy mystery series and a hardboiled detective mystery series.
Lady Marmalade Mysteries:
The charming and warm Lady Marmalade is the Baroness of Sandown. But don’t let that full you, she also loves solving crime and crafting the best ever marmalade jam you’ll taste.
Check her out for some cozy, warm mysteries set between the two World Wars. You’ll find cameos by some of history’s greatest characters like Gandhi and Lord Mountbatten!
Anthony Carrick Mysteries:
The tough drinking, hard talking Anthony Carrick is an ex-LAPD homicide cop with a conflicted past. From the same mold of Sam Spade and Mike Hammer, he enjoys seeking justice for the downtrodden. Sometimes that means using his fists.
He’s a painter in his spare time and lives with a one-eyed rescued cat called Pirate. For fans of noir and hardboiled fiction, this is your stiff, tall drink of fun.
CONTENTS
Title Page
One - Chapter 1
Two - Chapter 2
Three - Chapter 3
Four - Chapter 4
Five - Chapter 5
Six - Chapter 6
Seven - Chapter 7
Eight - Chapter 8
Nine - Chapter 9
Ten - Chapter 10
Eleven - Chapter 11
Twelve - Chapter 12
Thirteen - Chapter 13
Fourteen - Chapter 14
Fifteen - Chapter 15
Sixteen - Chapter 16
Seventeen - Chapter 17
Eighteen - Chapter 18
Nineteen - Chapter 19
ENJOYED THE BOOK?
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SINS OF THE FATHER
Jason Blacker
Copyright © 2016 Jason Blacker
PUBLISHED BY: Lemon Tree Publishing
Visit www.JasonBlacker.com to get FREE books and other cool stuff!
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.
Editing: Andrea Anesi
ISBN-13: 9781927623435
For my mother and father who have always been encouraging and supportive
ONE
Chapter 1
JUNE of 1942 was a terrible time to be living in England. It was made all the worse if you were cooped up in London. Although The Blitz of 1940 was well behind you, the air raid sirens were a constant reminder to remain vigilant. And indeed, there were bombings haphazardly conducted whenever the Germans felt like it, to keep you on your toes.
But, by this time, of course, one had gotten used to the air raid sirens and the screeching whistles of the bombs falling, when they did. And at the moment, this was one of those times. Lady Marmalade couldn’t hear any screeching whistling from any bombs and she could barely hear the air raid sirens.
She was in the bunker that Eric had commissioned in the summer of 1939, when talk of war was apparent but nobody wanted to believe it. He managed to see the construction through before he passed.
Frances was thinking about that now.
“What do you think about it, luv?” he asked.
They were both fifteen feet under the ground; the round bunker like a tube. It wasn’t large, but it was as big as their living room. Enough space for sitting out a night’s bombing or two. Frances looked at him and put her hand on his shoulder. His was around her waist.
“I hope we don’t have to use it,” she said.
It was a fragile hope, like the last leaf of summer clinging precariously to the limb of the tree. Eric looked at her and kissed her forehead.
“Better safe than sorry, though.”
They looked around the bunker together. Eric very pleased with it, explaining the thickness of the concrete reinforced walls and the other specifications that Frances couldn’t quite remember the details of.
It had originally only had their queen sized bed in it. But as of today, as Frances sat on the chair in the middle of the bunker, it held three beds. Alfred and Ginny wouldn’t leave her, even in these tumultuous times. They had promised Eric the same. And being without family of their own there was nowhere else they’d rather be.
“This door, here,” said Eric pointing to a door at the far end of the bunker, “opens up to the London tunnels. I’ve made a map and you’ll find it in the top drawer of this table.”
The table Eric had pointed at almost three years ago still sat squarely by the door.
“This tunnel is just in case we can’t get back out through the house,” he said. “It opens up into the tunnels, and about three hundred yards away you’ll find the first underground station.”
“You’re so very thoughtful, my dear,” said Frances to him. She leaned up and kissed him on the mouth.
“I couldn’t bear to have anything happen to you, luv. I just can’t imagine you not being my side.”
Alfred walked off to the far end of the bunker and checked on the door. It brought Lady Marmalade out of her reverie. The pain was still sharp at moments like these. She hadn’t imagined losing Eric so soon. But that was the fickle hand of fate that dealt the cards she now held.
Frances stood up from her chair and turned on the wireless. Eric had wired one down here so that they might remain abreast of the goings on while they were huddled down in the bunker. The announcer was calmly informing everyone to remain calm and to make their way to the nearest shelter. That they would keep everyone updated.
Though Frances thought that everyone should have been well hidden in a shelter by now. The poor souls who might be out on the ground might not be terribly lucky if this turned out to be a real bombing raid.
You could hear the sirens better over the wireless whenever the announcer took a moment to gather his thoughts. The ebbing and flowing of the siren was not an unpleasant sound, but it was monotonous and constant, like a moaning wolf.
Frances looked up at Alfred.
“Would you please sit down, Alfred, you’re making me nervous standing there and pacing around.”
“Sorry, my Lady. Didn’t realize I was doing that.”
Alfred came down and sat in a chair by Ginny. He looked over at Frances.
“You know, my Lady, both Lord Declan and Lady Amelia feel that you should not be in London during the war, but rather up at Ambleside.”
Frances nodded.
“I know, but someone needs to take care of the London home now and then, and that’s what I intend to do. It’s withstood the best that the Germans have been able to throw at it and I’ll be damned if I’m going to cower away because the Germans want to throw some bombs around. Besides, who else will help to clean up the mess and take care of those who suffer greatly and have nowhere to run to?’
It was a rhetorical question.
“Yes, my Lady, though I confess to believing that Lord Declan might be right. It is dangerous to be here in the midst of it.”
“But, my dear Alfred, I was not here in September of ‘40 during those two months of consistent blitzing. And we’ve hardly had anything else like it since. I fear that our British stiff upper lips have taken the fight out of the Germans. Would you not agree that the bombings are becoming less and less common?”
“I would, my Lady, but I fear I could not live with losing you too, so soon after Lord Marmalade.”
Alfred cast his eyes down. It had come as a sudden and quick blow to lose his master, and could he dare say, dear friend. Never in his many years of service had he worked for a peer who was as humble and as kind as The Most Honorable The Marquess of Sandown.
Eric had even encouraged Alfred to address him by his first name. But Alfred could never come to bear that. It was asking too much, though the gesture was a mark of Eric’s greatness and kindness.
The raid siren stopped for several seconds and then Lady Marmalade could hear it start up again, this time as one single monotone. She smiled and looked over at Ginny. Ginny was nervous, you could tell. She always got nervous during the sirens. Her freckled face was flushed and her eyes darted around at every little sound she heard.
“How are you holding up, dear?” asked Frances.
“I’m fine, thank you, my Lady. And if I might be so bold as to agree with Alfred and Lord Declan, I fear this is no place for a Lady.”
Frances smiled at her housekeeper. The two of them had been extremely loyal, perhaps even more so since Eric had passed on.
“Avalon does need upkeep, too, you know,” said Frances. “I can send you up on the next train if you’d like to head on up to Ambleside and take care of Avalon for me?”
Ginny fiddled with her apron and looked at Frances.
“No, my Lady, I prefer to be right with you, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
“We have the all clear, ladies and gentleman. You may now leave the shelter in a calm and dignified manner. As always, remain vigilant, watch out for each other and listen to the proper authorities.”
Lady Marmalade turned off the wireless and stood up. Alfred stood up with her, as did Ginny.
“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” she asked.
“Not bad at all. I believe that makes it twenty one nights without a bombing. A new record I believe, my Lady,” said Alfred.
“And let’s hope it continues.”
They made their way back upstairs and came out through the bookshelf in the study. Alfred closed it up after them and it was hard to tell there were stairs behind it. Looking around inside Marmalade Park, which is what Eric and Frances had come to call their London home, you c
ouldn’t tell that Frances was living during war times.
Many of the paintings and ornaments had, over the last several months been put back up after the raids had become less frequent. For some reason that only fortune knew, many of the homes butting upon Hyde Park had barely been scratched. Marmalade Park was one of them, and Frances counted herself amongst the lucky ones.
“I think some tea might be just what we need to steady the nerves, Ginny,” said Frances.
“Right away my Lady.”
Lady Marmalade made her way into the living room where she sat down and picked up the morning’s paper which she had not yet had the chance to read. She heard a knock at the front door and looked up at her watch. It was close to nine p.m.
“Who on earth can that be at this time of night, just after a siren?”
“I’ll go and find out,” said Alfred.
TWO
Chapter 2
ALFRED came back to the living room where Lady Marmalade was still looking at her paper. Frances looked up when he came in. He was followed in by a nervous looking woman who reminded Frances of a wounded bird. She was jittery and slight of build. She was young, perhaps no more than thirty, and she already walked with a slight hunchback. She had a mousy face with a pointed nose and thin mouth. Her eyes were brown and small, darting around like loose beads in her skull.
“I do apologize, my Lady. But Ms. Beckenswidth was adamant that she see you,” said Alfred.
Frances got up from the couch she was sitting on and walked towards the two of them. She offered her hand, which Ms. Beckenswidth took. Frances shook what felt like nothing but a warm, limp and dry cushion. Eric had always told her that you could tell a lot by someone’s handshake. Both men and women. He’d said it was the same for either sex.
Lady Marmalade Cozy Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3) Page 23
