The Baron at Bishops Avenue (A Lady Marmalade Mystery Book 9)

by Jason Blacker

  "Are you the only one here at eight on a Saturday morning."

  Vera looked down and kicked at the ground with her shoe. She looked up nervously at Humphrey before looking down at the ground again.

  "Well, Vera?"

  "Humphrey and I are here at the same time everyday. Mrs. Edevane comes in at eight thirty on Saturdays and seven thirty on the weekdays. She's always very punctual. I've not once seen her late all my five years."

  "That's very nice, Vera, and I'll ask Edith about her punctuality. What I want to know now though, is were you alone this morning at eight?"

  Frances could see Humphrey looking down at Vera out of the corner of her eye. Vera looked up at Humphrey and then back at Frances. She looked as guilty as if she'd just been caught kissing in church.

  "No ma'am," she mumbled.

  Frances turned to look at Humphrey.

  "You weren't here at your scheduled time?" she asked.

  "No," he said, looking straight at her.

  "And why not?"

  "I wasn't feeling well."

  Frances looked steadily into his eyes. She tried to give him her best school marm look, but he seemed unaffected. He was also quite a bit older than her and perhaps that was the reason for his confidence. Though if Frances were to bet, she'd likely suggest that he was just a good liar. Someone who could as easily tell a lie as the truth. Someone who might even find the lies and the truths to be but different sides of the same coin.

  "Have you been feeling ill often lately."

  "What does my health have to do with the murder of Baron Marphallow, Frances?" asked Humphrey, unperturbed with Lady Marmalade's station in life.

  "That remains to be seen, Mr. Spilligan," said Frances. "If you're tiring of my questions I'm sure I can have the Inspector offer more comfortable conditions at the station under which to answer questions."

  Humphrey looked at Frances for a moment. His hands folded in front of his chest like iron breastplates meant to keep her away.

  "That won't be necessary," he said. "I have not been feeling ill lately, no."

  Frances gave a curt nod of her head.

  "If I was to ask you what Mrs. Edevane might have to say about her employers' generosity towards their staff what do you think she might say?"

  "I wouldn't care to speculate. Besides, so long as Edith is getting more than either of us, I'm sure she'd be quite satisfied with what she considers our employers' largesse."

  Frances turned towards Vera. The simple woman was staring down at her feet, or perhaps her hand which still held the two white cigarette butts in its palm like squashed white worms.

  "What do you think, Vera?"

  "Of what, my Lady?"

  "About what I asked Humphrey?"

  Vera gave a shy smile.

  "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I wasn't listening."

  She looked earnestly at Frances, eager to pay attention this time.

  "I'd like to know what you think Mrs. Edevane would say if I asked her about the Marphallow's generosity towards their staff."

  "I'm sure she thinks we get paid quite decently."

  "Have you heard her say as much?"

  "Oh yes, ma'am. Quite often she says to me that the Baron and Lady are quite generous. Usually around weekly pay time."

  Vera smiled enthusiastically as if she'd just shared a treasured secret. Frances smiled at her.

  "Before we go in, I find it only fair that I let you know that Lady Marphallow has given me permission to look through your private belongings in the home."

  Frances looked from Humphrey to Vera. Vera had a look of surprise on her face, and her color had left her face. Her eyebrows inched towards each other. Humphrey on the other hand looked as unhappy as usual. He hadn't changed his expression at all.

  "Why would you need to do that?" asked Vera.

  "Well, Vera," said Frances, "the money that Lady Marphallow keeps in the house has gone missing."

  "I see," said Vera, still not quite getting it. "Perhaps Mrs. Edevane had to spend it."

  "No, Vera," said Humphrey, looking down at her like a younger sister, "they think one of us took it."

  This was the first time that Frances had heard any semblance of kindness in Humphrey's voice. It appeared he had a soft spot for the cook. Vera's forehead furrowed.

  "Surely not," she said.

  Humphrey smiled and nodded at her.

  "Surely, Lady Marmalade here thinks we're guilty as sin."

  Vera turned towards Humphrey and put her left hand on his elbow. Her right still held the dead cigarette butts.

  "No, I can't believe it. You would never do such a thing. I would never do such a thing."

  Vera looked back towards Lady Marmalade.

  "You must be mistaken, my Lady. I know for a fact that Humphrey would never do anything of the sort. And neither would I."

  Frances smiled at her.

  "I believe you," said Frances, and she did, insofar as she didn't think Vera would steal the money, "but this is a dreadful affair, and we must ask difficult questions and upturn horrible stones if we're to get to the truth."

  Vera nodded.

  "I understand," she said.

  "If you'd be so kind as to show me where your personal effects are," said Frances.

  Vera nodded and walked off to the side of Lady Marmalade and then towards the house. Humphrey kept her company and Lady Marmalade followed behind them. Vera was young enough to be his grandchild and almost as seemingly small next to him. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back with an ease and confidence that comes naturally to those men employed in the service of butlering.

  Inside the kitchen Frances was met with Edith putting away some cutlery and crockery, including the teapot and saucers that Frances and Agnes had previously used. Edith looked at them as they came in and nodded curtly at Vera. Vera dropped the cigarette butts in the dustbin and went to the sink to wash her hands with soap.

  "If it's quite alright with you," said Humphrey, "I'll be attending to Lady Marphallow unless you wish to search my clothing that I'm wearing."

  It was in impertinent and inappropriate comment. One that Frances took no notice of. She merely nodded at him quietly.

  "Edith will to see to what you need," he said.

  And with that he left the kitchen and disappeared toward the dining room where, presumably, Lady Marphallow was still sitting as Frances had left her some time before. Edith came over to Frances and looked at her.

  "What can I help you with, Frances?" she asked.

  Frances looked at her and smiled.

  "I'll need access to the personal belongings that you and the Marphallows' staff keep here."

  Edith nodded.

  "Right this way," she said.

  Frances put up her finger.

  "Just a moment please, Edith, I'll be getting the Inspector."

  Edith stood and watched Frances leave the kitchen and return a little while later with the very handsome constable and the bulldog of an inspector.

  "Alright then," said Inspector Husher in his deep police voice full of authority, "we'll be looking at your cubbyholes then."

  Edith took them back to the adjacent room where Frances had first met her. It was a small room perhaps not much bigger than a drawing room, with a table and four chairs and in the two corners were two armchairs well worn but still presentable. On the one side were four wooden lockers. On each one at eye level was a metal tag with the last name of the person on it. From left to right it read, "Edevane", "Spilligan", "Breggan" and then "McCormick".

  "Who's McCormick?" asked the Inspector.

  "That's the gardener, Inspector," said Edith. "He only comes by once a week."

  Husher nodded.

  "Open them up then," he demanded.

  "I only have the keys to my own," said Edith.

  "Surely there must be a master set?" asked the Inspector.

  Edith nodded. "I'll get it right away," she said, and left them after unlocking her own locker.

&
nbsp; Each locker was bolted closed and a padlock was used to fasten it in place. The four padlocks looked identical except that each one had a number roughly etched into it. The numbers read one though four scratched into the padlock's body as a numeral. They were in order left to right, so that Edith's was number one and McCormick's was number four.

  Inside Edith's locker was an umbrella and a pair of winter shoes. On one side hung a winter coat on a hook and on the top portion was a small shelf that held a hairbrush and a small square mirror. Husher took out the winter coat and handed it to Pearce. Pearce grabbed at it here and there, mostly around the pockets feeling for any telltale lumps of money. He found none. Though he was thorough and stuck his hands in the pockets to be sure. There was nothing of note except for a bus ticket, a lipstick and a pair of gloves stuck into one pocket. The right cuff had some sort of white powder, though the left didn't.

  Pearce put the coat back on the hook as Husher went through Edevane's purse which had been hanging on the opposite hook. Edith had rejoined them by this stage, and though Frances could feel her embarrassment, it was nonetheless a necessity. Edith looked down and her cheeks were red.

  "You'll pardon the intrusion," said Husher, not looking at her. Edith said nothing in return.

  Husher pushed and prodded through her things in her purse. He looked through a smaller coin purse that held only a few low denomination notes and some coins. There was also a ring in the small purse with a small diamond on it. Husher did not inquire and neither did Lady Marmalade though she took notice of Edith as Husher fondled it. You could tell she was quite upset and anxious about the way he handled it roughly. Though Edith didn't appear to be married for their were no wedding or engagement rings on her finger, the diamond ring was nonetheless important to her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Marphallow Home

  HUSHER put Edith's coin purse back in her shoulder purse and put that back in the locker. There was nothing else to see inside it, so he closed it up and Edith locked it again without looking at anyone. She seemed deeply embarrassed to Lady Marmalade, over what, Frances couldn't be sure. Husher said nothing to Edith. Frances thought this was quite rude. He was making no attempt to smooth over ruffled feathers. Not that she was surprised, she had worked with Scotland Yard long enough to realize that most policemen became gruff if not downright rude after a time. She looked at Pearce who was standing off to the side now observing everyone and wondered if he would become as craggy as Husher in time. If pressed, she'd put money on it. Pearce noticed her looking at him and he smiled at her.

  "Thank you for your patience, Mrs. Edevane," said Pearce, looking at her and smiling. "I trust you'll forgive the intrusion into your private affairs under the circumstances."

  There was nothing she could say. It was police business after all but she was pleased with the comment nonetheless. She looked up at him quickly and nodded with a small smile on her face as fragile as a new butterfly. Frances touched her on the forearm after she had finished and gave her a comforting look.

  "Nothing to be ashamed of," said Husher in his big, gruff voice, "at least you didn't murder him."

  Husher wasn't looking at anyone, he was staring at the next locker. The one that had the tag with "Spilligan" on it. He nodded at the locker.

  "If you don't mind," he said to Edith though not looking at her.

  Edith fumbled with her keys and found the one that fit Spilligan's locker. Spilligan had not joined them, he was still with Lady Marphallow. Edith opened up the locker and holding the padlock in one hand she stepped back. Frances was to the right side of the locker and she was not tall enough to see what was on the shelf at the top of it. Pearce could see up there though and there was nothing but a box of matches and a packet of cigarettes and a comb on the shelf. In the main compartment of the locker was an umbrella on the left hand hook and a large brown overcoat on the hook inside the locker on the opposite side of the door. The bottom of the locker held a pair of rubber overshoes that were dry.

  Husher reached in for the overcoat and brought it out. Stuffed into the outside breast pocket was money. It was plain to see to everyone. Husher squashed his big hands into the pocket and pulled out everything the could. He reached in further but he couldn't quite get at the bottom of the pocket.

  "Can I help you, Inspector?" asked Frances.

  "Can't quite reach the bottom," said Husher handing the coat over to Frances.

  Husher gave the notes to Pearce and Pearce went to the table and started counting them out and lying them flat on its wooden surface. Lady Marmalade put her smaller hand into the pocket and pulled out the coins. She handed those to Husher and then reached in one more time to be sure she had collected everything which she had.

  "That's all, Inspector," she said, handing Husher the coat.

  Husher grabbed at the other pockets which didn't hold much. There were a pair of gloves in the right hand outer pocket and in the inside breast pocket was a leather wallet. Husher opened it up and inside were two one pound notes, a bus ticket and a photograph of two boys. Husher looked at the photograph and then placed the contents of the wallet on the table and the wallet next to the contents.

  Frances looked at the two notes. They were crisp and new and looked like they had hardly been used. She picked up the photograph. The photograph was of two boys outdoors close to a tree. The background was blurry and the boys looked to be in their early twenties though it was hard to tell. They had their arms around each other as best friends might, and they both had soft smiles on their faces. The taller boy on the right of the image as Lady Marmalade looked at it might have been a much younger Humphrey Spilligan, the resemblance was there, even if it wasn't uncanny.

  Husher stood next to Pearce looking down at the money as Pearce finished off counting it. Both men were quite quiet as Pearce counted. Edith looked on in both surprise and shock. She fidgeted with the keys in her hand and swiveled the bolt of the padlock nervously. She hadn't seen such a lot of money before at one time. It looked to be more money than she made in a month. Perhaps close to what she'd make in two months.

  "How much is there, Constable?" asked Husher, looking over at Pearce. Both men stood up.

  "Ninety three quid, seven bob, a joey and three pennies all told."

  Lady Marmalade looked down at the notes and coins on the table. They were all lined up meticulously and the coins were stacked together with their own value. Seven silver shillings all shiny atop one another, the small silver thruppence by itself and the three bronze pennies, the largest in size but smallest in value, at the end of the line three high.

  The notes were also grouped according to value but fanned out so you could tell at a glance how many of each there were. There was a twenty pound white note, three ten pound white notes, seven five pound white notes, five one pound notes and six ten shilling notes. Husher looked over at a constable who had joined them in the kitchen though he stood by the doorway. Husher nodded at him and the constable nodded back. He was no doubt off to get the butler before he thought better of escaping.

  "So, Inspector," said Lady Marmalade, "is it fair to say you suspect Mr. Spilligan for having stolen the money?"

  Husher looked at Frances and cleared his throat sarcastically.

  "I don't suspect him, Frances, I know he did it. The proof is right here on the table taken from his overcoat."

  The overcoat was tossed casually over one of the wooden chairs by the table. The one closest to the Inspector.

  "I see," said Frances.

  Pearce looked up at Frances with his arms folded in front of him.

  "You don't believe him?" he asked her.

  "It's not that I don't believe the Inspector, clearly the money was in his overcoat, we all saw it. But where is the key?"

  "He clearly threw it away or he put it elsewhere," said Pearce.

  "Exactly," said the Inspector, "and I'll get it out of him as soon as the constable returns with him."

  "Why would he do this?" asked Edith, qui
etly, mostly to herself.

  Husher turned to look at her.

  "For the money, clearly for the money," he said.

  "Do you suspect him of the murder now, Inspector?" asked Frances.

  Husher looked at Frances and smiled at her.

  "I thought you were here to help us. You're asking an awful lot of questions without giving much information yourself."

  "I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have, Inspector," said Frances.

  "Good. I'll answer yours and then you'll answer mine. Agreed?"

  Frances nodded.

  "We clearly now have motive, what with the money found in his overcoat. He's certainly a prime suspect at this point. Like you, I remain open to the possibility that he is indeed the murderer. Although I'll be happy to entertain the idea that he might not be, that perhaps he just stole the money after the fact. A crime of opportunity if you will."

  Husher looked at Lady Marmalade silently for a moment with one eyebrow raised.

  "What are your thoughts on the matter?" he asked at last.

  Both he and Pearce were looking at her expectantly, leaving Edith standing like a dressed mannequin.

  "Well, clearly Mr. Spilligan was quite dissatisfied with his position here and his wages. Especially his wages, though he strikes me as a man dissatisfied with life generally. And yet, ninety three pounds is hardly worth risking your career on, at least that's my impression."

  "Yes, but I've seen men murdered for a lesser sum than this, Frances," offered Husher.

  "As have I, Inspector. I'm happy to entertain the idea that Mr. Spilligan might have murdered the Baron for such a small amount or perhaps more likely just have stolen the money at an opportune moment."

  "Then we're agreed," said the Inspector.

  Frances smiled at him.

  "And yet," she said. "Where is the key to the drawer where the money was kept? The money seemed hastily to have been put into his overcoat and yet the key was somehow carefully hidden. And the envelope..."

  "The envelope?" asked Husher.