The Golf, Cheese and Chess Society

by Jason Blacker

  He looked up at DCI Milling. He pushed his glasses up his nose.

  “She was most certainly stabbed to death,” he said.

  DCI Milling nodded. He had taken to twirling the left side of his mustache. He looked down at the fat doctor, who from this angle looked almost like a white ball topped with unruly gray hair.

  “How many times,” DCI Milling asked.

  “I count four,” he said, easing himself up to standing very slowly, for the knees protested the bending and unbending.

  “What about any nefarious sexual deeds?” he asked.

  Dr. Cockle shook his head ruefully. “Can’t say for certain, but I won’t know that until I’ve done a more thorough investigation at my office. It doesn’t look like it though.”

  Two of his men were waiting with a stretcher off to the side. They were smoking cigarettes and not talking with each other. Down the fell a ways a few people were cautiously walking up from the farmhouse towards them. DCI Milling looked at the bobby.

  “Go down there, Bill, and make sure they stay away from the scene until the body’s been taken by Dr. Cockle.”

  Bill the bobby nodded and walked off towards them. They were fifty yards away or so. DCI Milling shook his head slowly. He had no idea why people wanted to gawk at crime scenes.

  “If you’re done, Chester, I’d like to take the body,” said Dr. Cockle.

  DCI Milling looked over at the coroner, who stood to his right. Dr. Cockle wasn’t a tall man, rather he was average in height, but that still gave him a few inches on DCI Milling.

  “Not just yet if you don’t mind, Silas. I’d like to give Lady Marmalade a chance to get here first.”

  And as if summoning her by name, the noise of an arriving police car caught their attention. It pulled up just behind DCI Milling’s, and the constable in the driver side got out and helped Lady Marmalade out the front. From the back exited a tall older gentleman. DCI Milling knew him as Alfred Donahue. Lady Marmalade’s butler. He liked him. He was a man who knew discretion. DCI Milling’s sergeant also exited the back.

  “Speak of the devil, eh?” said Dr. Cockle. “Here she comes now.”

  DCI Milling looked down the fell towards Constable Bill Davies. He was doing a good job in keeping the small crowd at a good distance away from the scene. From where the crowd was, there wasn’t much for them to see. He looked back to watch Lady Marmalade, her butler, his constable, and sergeant walk up the slight slope towards them. Lady Marmalade was wearing what appeared to be either riding pants or hunting pants, or perhaps a combination of the two with a good pair of hiking shoes. She wore a jersey and a mid-length jacket as well. Over her head she had placed a scarf. Alfred walked next to her holding an umbrella open for the two of them. Detective Sergeant Charlie Fox had on a bowler and Constable Ernest Swales was getting wet in spite of his custodian helmet.

  “Good morning, Chester, Dr. Cockle,” said Frances offering them her hand which they all shook in turn.

  “Good to see you again, Frances,” said DCI Milling, “in spite of the circumstances.”

  Frances nodded. She looked down at the dead girl lying on what was now wet grass and gravel, her clothing starting to soak through.

  “Poor girl,” said Frances. “What happened?”

  “Mr. Elmer Nisbet here,” said DCI Milling, “was coming up the fell to tend to his flock when he noticed what he thought at first was a man and woman wrestling or courting.”

  DCI Milling took a moment to pause and looked over at Elmer. Elmer nodded.

  “Perhaps Lady Marmalade would prefer to hear it from you directly,” said DCI Milling to Elmer. Elmer nodded, then looked at Frances.

  “Yes, my Lady,” he said. “It’s just as DCI Milling said. I was coming up the fell with my dog, Shaggy, when I saw the two of them. For only a brief moment it looked as if they might have been doing other things than what was apparent only a moment later.”

  “What sorts of other things?” asked Frances.

  Elmer looked down for a moment and rain dribbled off his flat cap as he fiddled with his hands which held his crook.

  “Uh, I thought at first, just for a moment like I said, that they were perhaps in the middle of relations, if you know what I mean.”

  Frances nodded.

  “But that seems obviously wrong now. Mind you, it was only for the briefest moment as my eyes and brain adjusted to what I saw.”

  “And what did you see?” she asked.

  “I saw him making stabbing motions at her. I shouted at them and started towards them. I don’t think he heard me at first. I shouted again, and that’s when he looked up at me and got up and ran off.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?” asked Frances.

  “As good as I could, but I was about a hundred yards away. All I can say is he had black hair and he wore a dark gray or black suit.”

  “Was his hair straight or curly?”

  “It seemed straight, but then again it might have been on account of how damp and wet it is today. I wouldn’t swear to that though.”

  “And where did he run to?”

  “He ran that way,” said Elmer, pointing in the direction that Lady Marmalade had just come from. “As I got up here I saw him drive off down the road the way you came.”

  Frances nodded. “And did you see what sort of car it was?”

  “Not particularly, no. It was a black one I think, similar to the sort the police are driving.”

  Frances nodded some more and looked back down at the dead girl.

  “Is there nothing else you might be able to tell us from having seen him?” she asked.

  Elmer shook his head.

  “I’m afraid not, my Lady,” he paused for a moment. “Though it did appear as though he might have had a slight limp.”

  “A limp you say?” asked Frances.

  “Yes. As he ran off I noticed he seemed to favor his left side. He dipped a bit further on the right. Though I only noticed it briefly. It might have been the geography that was causing it. I could be wrong.”

  “As to the rest of him. There’s nothing else you noticed. Like his height for example?”

  Elmer shrugged as he leaned on his crook.

  “I’d guess he was average height, but as he ran there were no trees or hedges close by to give me a yardstick to measure him by.”

  “I understand,” said Frances. “As to his stature. Was he heavyset, stocky or slim?”

  “He wore a dark suit, and under it he seemed to be of average build.”

  Frances nodded. She looked back down at the dead girl. She looked to be in her early thirties and average. There was nothing special about her. Not the way she dressed, not the quality of her clothes. In fact she dressed rather plainly. She was a woman who likely didn’t turn heads. But it looked like she didn’t try either.

  Frances looked back up at Elmer.

  “Do you know her at all?”

  “I do. She came last night. Arrived a little after 11pm. She only had a small suitcase with her and she seemed rather nervous.”

  “Did she say how long she’d be staying?”

  “Only the one night. Said she had to get back by Sunday evening.”

  It was Sunday today. Odd that someone would come up late Saturday evening and then leave the very next day. That was very unusual when visiting the Lake District.

  “Did she happen to say, or did you ask her, what her business was up here?”

  “I didn’t ask and she didn’t say. Like I said, she was nervous and wanted to get to her room. It was late too, so I didn’t argue.”

  “What name did she give?”

  “Mary Sorrows.”

  Frances nodded.

  “How many boarders do you have at the moment?”

  “We have three rooms. They’re all full. Mary was in one. We have a younger couple in another and a Frenchman in the third.”

  Frances looked down towards the small crowd being held back by the constable. She thought she could tell the
couple and the Frenchman. There was also an older woman with them and another older gentleman. The woman and gentleman might have been married. In any event, they looked like they worked at the farm. Perhaps the woman was Elmer’s wife.

  “Was Mary alive when you came upon her?”

  “Yes, she was. I think she was trying to give me something. Or give me something to give to someone.”

  Frances looked at DCI Milling. He nodded at her.

  “We have a small piece of crumpled up paper, along with the murder weapon. Constable Davies put it in the car to keep it out of the rain.”

  “Did she say anything when she gave you the piece of paper?” asked Frances.

  “She tried to say something. Sounded like ‘mar’, she said it twice, then she said ‘laid’.”

  “Marlaid,” said Frances, trying her tongue on the words. “Mallard perhaps.”

  She wasn’t really speaking to anyone.

  “Could’ve been any of those. It was particularly hard to get out. It was her last breaths,” said Elmer. His eyes got moist. He’d only seen one dead body before and that was of his son. But this murdered young woman had shaken him pretty badly.

  Frances looked at DCI Milling.

  “Do you know of a Marlaid or Mallard around these parts?”

  DCI Milling twirled his mustache for a moment. He shook his head.

  “Not off the top of my head. Nothing that would fit in with this. But perhaps she was trying to say Marmalade?”

  It was as good a guess as any. Frances shook her head slowly.

  “I don’t know, Inspector,” she said. “I just arrived a week ago and it’s not common knowledge that I’m here. It was sort of a last minute trip, and I didn’t notify anyone. Furthermore, I’ve never met this woman in my life.”

  DCI Milling shrugged. The drizzle had stopped and he was grateful for it. His mustache had been catching quite a bit of it.

  “Just a thought,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Frances, looking from him to the woman. “But why not say ‘mar’, ‘ma’, ‘laid’.”

  Frances looked back up from Elmer to DCI Milling.

  “What did the note say?”

  Elmer looked at DCI Milling. DCI Milling looked at Frances.

  “Looked like gobbledygook,” he said.

  “Gobbledygook?” asked Frances.

  DCI Milling nodded.

  “Yes, heard it on an American radio show recently. Means the same as gibberish.”

  “I see,” said Frances, “that doesn’t really tell me much.”

  “I’ll let you look at. Just a jumble of letters. Can’t make any sense of it. Never seen anything quite like it.”

  “Might be a cipher,” said Lady Marmalade.

  “Could be, though we don’t have the lads to try and decipher it,” he said.

  “Scotland Yard would.”

  DCI Milling nodded. Frances looked at Elmer.

  “And that’s what it looked like to you, too?”

  Elmer nodded.

  “There was nothing else found on her?” asked Frances.

  DCI Milling shook his head.

  “We rifled through her pockets. Nothing on her besides a tissue and a key. Elmer believes the key to be to her room.”

  “Perhaps that’s where we should go next. Let’s get out of the rain, shall we?”

  SIX

  Cobbled Hearth

  THE farmhouse was of a modest size and old. The stones were gray and damp and chipped with weariness. Moss grew on a portion of the walls and roof. Inside, the house was warmed by a large fireplace. The room acted as both the dining room and living area. Off on one side was a large wooden table where eight wooden chairs hugged it. On the other side was a large sofa and settee and a couple of armchairs with wooden tables next to each. A radio was on one of the tables and a telephone on the other.

  The furniture seemed as old as the house and just as tired. The walls were mostly bare except for a few unexceptional, small paintings of the local scenery. Landscapes and lake shore views, some dotted with boats. Elmer had asked about tea. Frances and DCI Milling and his men had declined but Elmer’s wife Pearl was putting tea on the stove for the guests and her husband nonetheless.

  “Would you like to see her room first or shall we talk with the guests?” asked DCI Milling.

  “Let’s take a look at the room first.”

  DCI Milling nodded. He took out a key from his pocket. The very same that had been found on the deceased moments earlier. He looked at Elmer.

  “Come with us in case this isn’t the right key,” he said.

  Elmer nodded. A ring of keys hung from his leather belt. It was not a large ring, only consisting of a half dozen or so keys.

  “Show us to her room,” said DCI Milling.

  Elmer led DCI Milling, Frances and Alfred to some stairs that were on one end of the long living room and they climbed them with some trepidation on Lady Marmalade’s part for they creaked and moved more than she might have liked.

  The first room that greeted them was the bathroom. It was a small room with a toilet, sink and bathtub. Frances poked her head inside.

  “Did she use this room at all?” she asked.

  “I can’t tell you, my Lady. I was out at dawn this morning before anyone was up. She might have used it last night but I can’t say for certain.”

  Opposite the bathroom was a bedroom. DCI Milling pointed at it.

  “The married couple are in that room, Inspector,” said Elmer. “Richard and Myrtle Meakin.”

  DCI Milling nodded and then they followed Elmer further down the hall. Elmer pointed to another room on his right. This was on the same side of the hall as the bathroom.

  “The Frenchman Félix Delastelle is in this room. He’s been complaining about the pipes making a noise throughout the night, so I might like to move him to Mary’s room whenever you’re finished with it.”

  DCI Milling nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “How long is he staying?” asked Frances.

  Elmer shrugged as he stopped at the next room opposite the Frenchman's room. Its door a few feet further up, and not quite opposite the Frenchman’s room’s door.

  “He hasn’t said. Though he’s paid for five nights.”

  Elmer was about to take his ring of keys from his belt when DCI Milling stopped him.

  “Let me try this one to be sure it is actually the key to her room,” he said.

  Elmer stepped aside and the short inspector put the key into the keyhole. Before turning it he tried the handle. The door was locked. He turned the key clockwise and heard it unlock. He turned the key anti-clockwise and took it out of the keyhole. He opened the door and the four of them walked into the room. It was now quite crowded. It was a small room.

  To the right, up against the wall was the bed. It was a small single bed with a metal frame. The bed linens had been made so that it looked as if no one had slept in it overnight. On the right side of the bed if you were sleeping on it was a nightstand that had on it a small doily and a lamp. There was also a silver women's watch next to it laid out flat on the table. Against the wall on this table was a small radio. The table had a drawer and below that was an open compartment.

  Frances moved closer to that side of the bed to get a better look. She looked at the watch. It was working and the time on it read almost fifteen minutes past eleven. It was a slender watch with a rectangular face. Frances tried the drawer. It had a keyhole in it but it wasn’t locked. Inside was a bible. On top of the bible was a return train ticket. It was from Bletchley to Windermere. Next to it was a bus ticket. Frances turned to look at Elmer.

  “Do you know how she got here?”

  “There’s only one way to get here, my Lady,” he said, “and that’s by bus. Windermere Station is too far of a walk. At least I imagine a woman wouldn’t to do it. Particularly not at night.”

  “And what time is the last bus?”

  “Mary would have been on the last bus. It leaves Windermer
e at around 1045pm I should think, getting here at around 11.”

  “And you accept boarders at that time of night?”

  “No, not usually. We usually don’t accept anyone past about 4pm.”

  “Then did she ring ahead of time?”

  “No, never heard from her or seen her until she arrived on my doorstep at 11pm. I’m usually in bed by 10 but it being a Saturday night with nothing pressing to do I was up at at that time. As was my wife Pearl.”

  “And yet you were up early this morning,” said Frances.

  “Yes, well I couldn’t sleep. I suppose those habits stay with me. Though there was no pressing reason to be up early.”

  “So tell me again what happened? She banged on the door?”

  “Yes. Quite loudly and eagerly. At that time of night here in the Lake District as you might imagine, someone banging on your door late at night is usually a neighbor needing help. And what with the war going on, well, we have to take care of each other.”

  Frances nodded and looked at him. He quickly realized she was expecting him to continue.

  “Well, the rest is like I said. I opened up the door and saw this young woman there. I invited her in and asked what she wanted. She asked if we had a room for the night. I asked her for how long and she said just the one night. I got the impression she wasn’t sure if we did or not. She seemed very much relieved when I gave it to her. As I had mentioned before, she seemed quite nervous. I asked her if everything was alright. She shrugged it off. All she said was that she was cold and that the night had been long and dark. She paid with cash. Then I gave her the key, offered to carry her case for her which she declined and then showed her the room.”

  Frances nodded.

  “How was she dressed?”

  “I should say almost the same as how we found her out there this morning.”

  “Did she say where she was from?”

  “Yes, I asked her that. She said she’d come up from London as she was trying to escape the racket and destruction.”

  “And her ticket is from Bletchley,” said Frances, “and she’s only up for the night. I think she was here to see someone specifically. A Marlaid or Mallard.”