Frances looked up at her audience. They were entranced.
"The second one was from the 26th. It read: IN WINTER IT LOOKS LOVELY STOP S."
Loughty frowned at her.
"Yes," she said, "quite odd telegrams. The first one might be related to some sort of political issue, but the second one seems strange, without context."
Loughty nodded.
"It gives no indication of murder," he said.
"Not at first glance," she said, "but when you have all the telegrams associated with these in order it starts to look more interesting."
"And where are the others from this conversation?" asked Loughty.
"We found the others in the Lord Chancellor's room at the House of Lords," said Frances, looking over at Paussage.
"So that's where they went," said Paussage, looking dejected.
"Imbecile," said Agnes. "I told you not to keep them in your office."
He looked over at her.
"It seemed a good place at the time. I was meaning to get rid of them," he said. "But I kept them, because they were from you. I loved you. I'd have done anything for you."
Agnes shook her head at him in disgust.
"Well, it appears you did do just about anything for her," said Frances, "including murder."
Lord Paussage looked down. There was no use denying it now. But he had no fight left in him. He hadn't wanted to do it, but she'd made him feel like it was the only way they could be together. In fact, she'd had to help him, he found the actual act nauseating.
Loughty looked back at Frances having studied the now dejected Paussage who held no higher ground, who was no longer the proud and contemptible man he had known just a few short weeks ago.
"And what did these other telegrams say?" he asked.
Frances looked over at him and nodded, after putting down her teacup which she had taken a sip of. The tea was getting cold.
"It might be better if I read them in order," she said.
She looked through her notebook and found what she needed.
"This first one was from Agnes, dated the 22nd. DOUBT OVER YESTERDAYS OFFICIAL UGLY LAWS STOP OLIVER VILLENEUVE ERRS MORE EVERYDAY STOP A. Then there was that one from Sinjin dated the 23rd."
"Can you read it again?" asked Loughty, trying to tease out the puzzle.
Frances nodded.
"I WILL INVESTIGATE LEGAL LIABILITIES STOP AND LOOK WHERE ANGRY YORKSHIREMEN SIT STOP S."
Loughty frowned.
"I suppose it could have to do with some political issue, but the language is a bit odd, and I know of no such Oliver Villeneuve."
Loughty looked over at Eric. Eric shrugged.
"I quite agree," he said. "Nothing in those telegrams rings a bell for me. As for the Yorkshiremen, that's odd without context. We have Yorkshiremen in the House but it seems quite cryptic."
"That's because it is," said Frances. "Let me continue with the rest."
Loughty nodded.
"The next one is also from Agnes and dated the 24th. INTERESTINGLY, THE INCOMPETENT ROBSONS EGG ON FREDERICK STOP HARANGUING IS MADDENING STOP A."
"I see," said a confused Loughty.
"Then there is a last one from Agnes dated the 25th. KING IS LEAVING LATER STOP HOW IS MORNING STOP A."
"And that's it?" asked Loughty.
"No, there was the last one I read earlier from Sinjin dated the 26th. IN WINTER IT LOOKS LOVELY STOP S."
"I must say, I can't make heads or tails of it," said Loughty, looking around.
"That's because they were private love letters between the two of us," said Agnes, trying to derail the truth.
"Private they were," said Frances, "but love letters they were not. They were cryptic instructions between the two of you regarding the Baron."
Agnes looked away and didn't say anything to her. Loughty was still quite confused.
"How on earth do you get that from these very odd telegrams?" he asked.
"Well," said Frances, "that was the key. They seemed oddly written and didn't quite make sense even when I had them together and tried to tease out the true meaning from them. Agnes would have no need, nor interest in any political issue that she would need or be privy to discussing with Sinjin. So the only telegrams I could foresee between the two of them should likely be about clandestine meetings of their illicit affair. But that didn't quite seem the case from the language nor tone of the telegrams."
Loughty nodded.
"So I started to look at the words specifically, and then I saw exactly what they were about."
"Go on, I'm still not with you," said Loughty.
"Well," said Frances. "A murder that hopes to remain unsolved should not offer up evidence. The planning should leave no trace at the very least."
Frances looked at her notebook and then at Loughty.
"On with it, you're teasing me, Fran," he said good naturedly.
"It was in the words. Specifically it was the first letter of each word that was trying to convey the real message of the telegrams. So for example. The first telegram was from Agnes on the 22nd and read: DOUBT OVER YESTERDAYS OFFICIAL UGLY LAWS STOP OLIVER VILLENEUVE ERRS MORE EVERYDAY STOP A. Except for the STOP which is not considered part of the telegram as you'll know, the actual telegram then reads: DO YOU LOVE ME, when taking just the first letter of each word."
"Good lord," said Loughty, "so that was their scheme to plan and commit the murder? Read the other ones so I can find the rest of the hidden meanings."
Frances smiled at him. Loughty was quite excited by all of this.
"You'll notice that there is a theme to these telegrams. A question is answered by a response. So Agnes has asked DO YOU LOVE ME? And the next telegram is from Lord Paussage and responds: I WILL INVESTIGATE LEGAL LIABILITIES STOP AND LOOK WHERE ANGRY YORKSHIREMEN SIT STOP S. This was on the 23rd. What does it say?" asked Frances.
Loughty looked up for a moment trying to tease out the meaning. His lips moved silently as he spoke the lines again, focusing on the first letter of each word.
"I WILL ALWAYS," said Loughty, looking at Frances.
Frances nodded.
"I see," said Loughty, "but these two just show their alleged love for one another?"
Frances nodded again.
"Quite right," she said. "Agnes is trying to tease out Lord Paussage's loyalty for her and how much she might be able to manipulate him. You must understand, Larm, I doubt this was the only conversation the two of them had regarding murdering the Baron. I'm sure they would have spoken about it in person, but this is the only evidence we have of it in conversation."
"Right," he said, "so the other telegrams must be about the actual deed?"
"Quite right," said Frances. "Here's the next telegram in order. Written by Agnes on the 25th: INTERESTINGLY, THE INCOMPETENT ROBSONS EGG ON FREDERICK STOP HARANGUING IS MADDENING STOP A."
Frances looked up from her notebook. Loughty was nodding his head.
"And then she writes him again on the 25th. The last telegram from her that we have: KING IS LEAVING LATER STOP HOW IS MORNING STOP A. And then the very last telegram in the series is a response from Lord Paussage on the 26th: IN WINTER IT LOOKS LOVELY STOP S."
Frances folded her notebook in half and looked up at the crowd. Agnes and Sinjin sat dejected with heavy heads looking towards the floor.
"I TIRE OF HIM, she said," said Loughty. "And then, KILL HIM, to which Sinjin responds, I WILL. This is terribly fun, in a macabre sort of way."
He grinned from ear to ear, and looked over to Paussage.
"Cat got your tongue?" he asked.
Paussage looked up, his face flushed again in anger.
"You don't know what it's like to have found the woman you're in love with. You'd do anything for her. Besides you didn't like the Baron anyway."
"I still wouldn't have murdered the man," said Loughty.
"There were many reasons he needed to go. Not the least of which was his softening stance on the mick problem."
Loughty smile
d at the insult. It was water off a duck's back. Paussage would find the justice he deserved, and that was a delicious dish served right up by his friend and her husband, Lord and Lady Marmalade.
"Except you couldn't keep your big fat mouth shut," said Agnes. "Not only that, I had to finish it off. That coward," she said, pointing a finger at Paussage, "got squeamish after putting the knife in his chest. I had to make sure to finish the half hearted job you did."
Frances turned towards the Inspector.
"I should think we've all heard enough."
"Agreed," he said, and he nodded at his constables.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Marphallow Home
OUTSIDE in the front garden they all stood watching Agnes and Sinjin put into two separate police cars. Husher got into the front one with one of the constables. Pearce came up to Lady Marmalade.
"That was good work," he said, offering his hand.
"Not at all," she replied, "you would have had them in any event."
"And yet, it was, dare I say, more fun."
He grinned at her, and turned to leave.
"Until next time," he said, waving his hand in the air as he walked off.
"Sadly, there is always a next time," she said softly after him.
Pearce got into the second police car and the two cars drove off. Everyone watched them disappear down the street. Bishops Avenue was once again quiet, majestic and posh. Humphrey stood stoically behind them all with his hands clasped behind his back. Edith and Vera hugged each other sadly. For their collegial friendship though strained at points was coming to an end. Humphrey was perhaps less concerned so long as Frances would honor her word to put in a good word for him. He was sure that as a reference, finding another butlering position would not be difficult, even under these difficult times. And he was right.
"Well," said Loughty, "I suppose the Baron's sister is on her way from Australia to take care of the estate."
Frances and Eric nodded.
"Poor woman," said Eric.
Loughty turned to look at him.
"I wouldn't say that. I don't think they've been particularly close for some years. I've never heard him mention her often."
Eric turned around and took in the majestic home. He smiled sadly.
"Such a shame," he said.
"What's that, darling?" asked Frances, turning to see what he was looking at.
"A home," said Eric, holding his hand out towards the house, "should be a place of peace and of goodwill. And yet, this old home has seen recent misery. You wonder if it'll ever forget."
Frances put her hand through her husband's elbow and smiled towards the home, which stood squat and uncomplaining if not a little dour.
"I am sure," said Frances, "in time, with new owners, this house will remember these events as if they were a long lost bad dream. A distant memory."
Eric turned and looked down at his wife and smiled. He kissed her on the forehead.
"Politics can be deadly," he said, "at least you know that about war."
Frances looked onward at the house.
"Politics of the heart are perhaps more so."
The two of them turned around again and looked out at the open street. It was a quiet street, without a soul out and about on it. Everyone was huddled up in their homes or perhaps at work, each man seeking his own counsel. This murder of the Baron however, was an aberration on Bishops Avenue and it was something that would likely stir the minds of the next generation of children who grew up in these opulent houses, amongst families that thought the trappings of wealth and success were sure to insulate them from such horrors.
And yet the vices and viciousness of men knows no boundaries. It seeks victims indiscriminately and it metes its wrath upon all. Just like death comes a-calling for every man and woman, so to do the savage beasts within unbridled men's passions.
"My Sisyphean task complete," said Frances, "I seek rest amongst the kind and kindred souls of my family."
"Come, my weary companion, let us be off to find solace and goodliness in our fellow men. And let this charity start at home," said Eric.
And he led Frances towards the car and away from the blighted Bishops Avenue which had never known such atrocity and, God willing, never would again.
The Baron at Bishops Avenue Page 20
