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

by Jason Blacker

  Loughty smiled at Frances and nodded.

  "Is there anything else, Inspector?" he asked.

  Husher looked up from his notebook, and nodded.

  "Did you happen to see anyone else in that neighborhood who looked out of sorts?"

  "No, no one out of sorts, but I did think I saw Paussage heading that way."

  "Go on."

  "Well, I got home at around ten forty five after walking around for a bit after I'd gone up to see the Baron. I still had a lot of thinking to do. I still wanted to offer my apologies, but I wanted to do it in a private manner. I was thinking I would attend the next morning. In any event we know how that turned out."

  Husher nodded at Loughty to continue.

  "Well, I went into my smoking room which is at the front of the house here. It overlooks the main street. I sat down and put on my smoking jacket. I poured a good Irish whisky and packed my pipe. Shortly before eleven I should think it was. The clock chimed not long after, I noticed Paussage drive past in the direction of the Baron's."

  "You are certain it was him?"

  Loughty nodded.

  "His silver Silver Ghost with a gold Emily is quite unmistakable. The man has gauche sensibilities."

  "Emily?" asked Husher.

  "The Spirit of Ecstasy," offered Lady Marmalade. "Emily, or the Spirit of Ecstasy is the small female sculpture or ornament on the bonnet of the Rolls Royce."

  Husher nodded. "I see."

  "Paussage had a gold one especially made for his Silver Ghost," added Loughty.

  Husher nodded.

  "So you are certain it was him?"

  "As certain as I could be." It was dark of course, but even under the stingy street lamps I could make out his squat profile in the driver's seat."

  "Very good," said Husher. He turned to look at Pearce. "Anything you might want to ask?"

  Pearce shook his head.

  "I don't think so, Inspector, seems we have our man. We just need to prove it."

  Loughty looked at the two policemen. Eric stretched his long legs out in front of him. The sun was warm on his legs and his torso through his cardigan vest.

  "That will be all," said Husher as he stood up. Pearce stood with him. They shook hands with everyone and started to leave.

  "Inspector," said Frances.

  Husher and Pearce turned around and Frances walked a few steps to catch up with them.

  "The Government has closed for a few days. Before we get to Edith, perhaps you would care to join me at the House of Lords tomorrow at say ten o'clock?"

  "What for?" asked Pearce.

  "I'd like to take a look through Paussage's office to see if there is anything that might help bring further evidence to light."

  Husher nodded.

  "Very good, sounds like a good idea indeed."

  "I'm not hopeful," she said, "but one must do one's due diligence. I fear this was a crime of passion and as such I doubt much planning took place with it."

  "So you think it might be more difficult to get a confession?" asked Pearce.

  Frances shook her head.

  "No, I shouldn't think so, the housekeeper will be easily led into confessing, and from there I don't think it's a reach to get Paussage to confess either."

  Pearce nodded.

  "Nevertheless, it'll be more helpful if we can find some evidence to use just in case. Though perhaps that won't be possible."

  "See you then," said Pearce as he walked off with the Inspector.

  Frances went back and sat down with Loughty and Eric. Loughty was just pouring more tea. He offered some to Frances and she accepted, pushing her cup towards him.

  "Nasty business, this police business," said Loughty. "I don't envy them their jobs. Seems they make enemies wherever they go."

  Frances nodded and added cream and sugar to her teacup. Eric sipped on his black tea.

  "It is indeed."

  "I can't imagine how you do it, Fran," continued Loughty. "Dealing with all of man's inhumanity towards man."

  Frances brought her teacup to her lip and sipped on it, testing the creaminess and sweetness.

  "She's very good at it, Larm," said Eric. "I think that's part of the problem."

  Frances nodded.

  "E's right," she said. "I sort of fell into it and I can't get out... Or should I say, I don't want to get out."

  "Why not?" asked Loughty.

  "Because I'm good a it, and I hate seeing justice going unserved. If I can help bring the light of justice into dark corners, I'll continue on with it."

  Loughty sipped tea.

  "It's very admirable. Careful it doesn't steal your soul," he said.

  Frances smiled at him.

  "I guard it with my life," she said.

  "So you think you know who did it? You think it was Paussage?" asked Loughty.

  "I am certain. Especially now that you saw him heading towards the Baron's residence."

  "But I never saw him enter the residence that fateful night."

  "And you wouldn't have, you were home. But where else could he have gone?"

  "Perhaps he was out for an evening drive," offered Loughty.

  "Not likely, besides the Baron and you, I don't believe he knows many other peers or friends on Bishops Avenue. He also lives closer to me, so why is he up here driving around at such a godforsaken hour."

  Loughty nodded.

  "You have a point."

  "By the end of the week, I hope to have him in custody," she said.

  "It's awful to think of this happening so close to home," said Eric. "I know both these men quite well. Paussage might have been a hotheaded imbecile but I never fancied him for a murderer."

  "People are often not what they seem," said Frances. "And as much as we like to cloth ourselves in Queen's English and civilized behavior, we are nothing more than hairless thinking apes, and as such we need to remain ever vigilant over our baser animal natures."

  Larmer and Eric nodded in agreement.

  "Too true," said Loughty, and he looked out into his garden, thinking about the apes in Borneo he had seen in the forests there swinging from tree to tree and occasionally swatting each other.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  House of Lords

  THE Palace of Westminster, and indeed the Houses of Parliament jutted up against the Thames like old dragon teeth. At least that's what Lady Marmalade thought of as she came up to the building having been driven by Alfred. He dropped her off at the corner and she walked towards the entrance. It was quiet around the parliament buildings. In respect of the Baron's death, both Houses had been closed for the first part of this week. They would reopen tomorrow.

  Frances entered by way of St. Stephens' Hall and then turned right at the Central Hall and headed down Peers Corridor towards the Peers Lobby past which lay the House of Lords which was opposite the House of Commons. Frances had no difficulty finding her way around here as she had been here many times before. One of few women who had the privilege. Sadly though, no women were allowed in the House of Lords, which if she had her way would be changed immediately. But time was a rigid old man who didn't bend easily towards equality and justice.

  Frances walked into the House of Lords as if she were a life peer about to take her seat. Indeed, there was no one to stop her, and she had been invited in before. Wives of the peers were allowed to visit but weren't allowed to sit. Sit in the political sense. Nevertheless, Frances, feeling somewhat cheeky went straight to the Woolsack's bench and took a seat, looking around and taking in the opulent and at the same time majestic cathedral-like atmosphere of this House.

  She imagined she'd have to wait a bit for the Inspector and the Constable to arrive. The Palace of Westminster, indeed, the whole of the Houses of Parliament was a bit of a maze to the uninitiated, and she didn't imagine much police business took place here. Certainly not murder investigations. It was just a few minutes before ten.

  Frances knew where the Lord Chancellor's or Woolsack's offices were. And by
offices, she meant the plural. The Lord Chancellor had his own room and a separate room for his officers. They were directly west of her. They were the Old Palace Yard also known as the site of executions where Sir Walter Raleigh and Guy Fawkes amongst others of the Gunpowder Plot were executed. As was James Hamilton the 1st Duke of Hamilton after losing the Battle of Preston. But that was a long time ago, now only remembered by the history books and the likes of Lady Marmalade who felt to study history was indeed to look into the heart of the future.

  Frances had a soft spot for Guy Fawkes who was executed several years earlier than James Hamilton. Their blood perhaps still clinging to the soil that lay underneath the hard ground outside in the Old Palace Yard. Being a Catholic herself she was sympathetic to the Catholic cause of trying to dethrone an unsympathetic king, King James I of England. However, she by no means supported the violent means by which they attempted to achieve their ends.

  Nevertheless, the Gunpowder Plot was over 300 years ago. And yet it felt very recent. Perhaps because of the current violence committed by the Catholic IRM, just a couple of weeks before. Indeed, looking back into history did seem to give one a chance to read about the heart of the future.

  From the Lord Chancellor's office, if Lady Marmalade remembered correctly, you could crane your head and look out to your right, facing north and you could see the statue of Richard the Lionheart. It is an equestrian statue with King Richard I in a mail shirt with his hand held high in victory grasping a sword. History was written by victors. Perhaps if the Gunpowder Plot had been successful you might instead see a statue of Sir Walter Raleigh or perhaps even Guy Fawkes where Richard coeur de lion now stood proudly.

  Frances heard footsteps and she looked down the hall and away from the ornate gold ceiling which had captured her attention. Inspector Husher and Constable Pearce walked towards her with confidence, their raincoats billowing out the sides from the air rushing into them. Constable Pearce had a large smile on his face. It was just a few minutes past ten. They weren't too late all things considered. Frances stood up and smiled as they approached.

  "Fancy running for office?" asked Pearce as he looked at Frances standing in the House of Lords as if she owned it.

  "Not allowed to," she said.

  "Really?" asked Pearce. "I thought you were allowed to stand for election to parliament for two years already?"

  "Quite right, but we're still not allowed to become members of the House of Lords. We're stuck with the commoners in the House of Commons."

  "Well, the good Lady Astor is there, she gave quite the speech earlier this year regarding drinking hours," said Husher.

  Frances nodded.

  "And the only woman in a den of men," she said, smiling, "though she wasn't the first woman elected to Parliament."

  "You don't say," said Husher, feigning just the slightest of interest, though it appeared Pearce was more honestly intrigued. Frances shook her head.

  "You might not like this, but Countess de Markievicz was elected for the seat of Dublin while in prison but hasn't taken it yet. You might remember her from her involvement with the Easter Uprising. She's a member of Sinn Fein."

  Pearce nodded.

  "You know, I do recall the name now that you've mentioned it."

  Husher shrugged. He couldn't be bothered with politics generally and women's suffrage specifically.

  "If I recall she's quite the firebrand," said Pearce, "calling on the court to carry out her death sentence when it was commuted on account of her sex they said."

  Frances nodded.

  "You know the case quite well."

  "I try to keep abreast of the criminal world, what with the job I'm tasked with."

  "Quite a harsh sentence I should think considering her crime," said Frances.

  "Well, that's what treason will get you," said Pearce.

  "That's a matter of which side you're fighting for," said Frances. "I should hardly think she felt she was fighting for England."

  Pearce grinned.

  "You're quite sympathetic to the Irishman's cause, aren't you?" he asked.

  "I am sympathetic to a people who feel they have no voice in their own governance," retorted Frances. Pearce continued to smile at her good naturedly.

  "You should certainly run for office," he said.

  "Not likely, I can't imagine I'd get many votes."

  "Well," said Pearce. "You might just get mine."

  Frances smiled at him as Husher coughed.

  "I believe we are here not so much for politics as for the investigation of this murder we are on."

  "Quite right, Inspector. Seeing as you both found it quite easily."

  "We had help," said Pearce. "One of the Lords was walking out as we came in and he gave us great directions, didn't he, Inspector?"

  Husher nodded his bulldog face.

  "You might wonder why you found me in here, Inspector," said Frances.

  Husher shrugged again.

  "Not particularly." He looked around. "I don't see any offices."

  Frances stepped aside, and turned around to look at the Woolsack's bench, then she looked back at the two policemen.

  "This is the Woolsack's bench," she said.

  "You don't say," said Pearce. He walked around her and sat down on it.

  "Surprisingly uncomfortable," he said. "Needs some armrests at the very least."

  Frances turned to face him and smiled at him.

  "Yes, well I'm not sure that was ever the point. It was not developed for being a leisurely seat, but rather the epitome of British dominance of the wool trade."

  "I don't understand."

  "In the early thirteen hundreds," said Frances, "King Edward the 3rd decided that his Lord Chancellor whilst in council should sit on a bale of wool. Such a bale became known as the Woolsack."

  "Why wool?" asked Pearce, genuinely interested.

  "Because wool in the middle ages was of primary importance to England's economy and trade."

  Pearce nodded, upturning his mouth.

  "You're quite the history buff," he said.

  "Well, Devlin," said Frances, "I believe that looking back at history gives us a lens from which to see the future."

  Frances looked down at the red cushion.

  "Just imagine the number of men who have sat on that very seat, and to think that perhaps the future might put a woman there too."

  "Yes," said Husher, "I enjoy a history lesson as much as the next man, but how many of these sitting Lord Chancellors have been murdered."

  Frances turned back to look at the Inspector. Pearce got up and walked back in front of Frances, standing to Husher's left.

  "That's a very good question," said Frances, "and one that I don't have an answer to."

  "Then perhaps we should stick with the task at hand," suggested Husher.

  Frances nodded.

  "Do you know where the Lord Chancellor's office is?" asked Husher.

  "I will lead the way," said Frances.

  Frances walked off behind the Woolsack and turned right, exiting the House of Lords and entering the narrow Peers' Private Corridor. On her left was the Peers' Robing Room and on the right the Judges' Court. At the end of the Peers' Private Corridor was the Chancellors' Corridor and across that was the lobby to the Lord Chancellor's Office. Frances led them in.

  "Over on the left is the Lord Chancellor's Officers' Room, but on the right is probably our best bet. This is where the Baron Marphallow would have had his personal office."

  She led them into the large room. It was the size of a large bedroom. At the one end of it was a large dark wood desk behind which sat a large wingback leather chair with studded brass buttons and tufted back. Opposite it was a large leather Chesterfield sofa with a similar fabric. The color of leather was similar to the dark wooden desk. An oiled dark walnut brown. In the middle of the sofa was a tufted foot rest in leather and matching the overall tone of the furniture. A low, large rectangular table was in front of that footstool and closer to
the sofa than the desk.

  In the middle of the floor between the desk and the sofa and upon which the table stood, was a large intricately designed Egyptian rug. On the left and right sides of the room as you faced the desk were bookshelves from waist height to ceiling. On the left side was a wet bar with counter along the side of the wall before the bookshelf started. On a silver tray were a couple of upturned cut lead crystal whisky tumblers and in a cut crystal carafe was what looked like whisky.

  The room was clean and dust free. Very little clutter. The books were orderly and the bookshelves were full of them. Frances walked over to the desk and sat down in the large comfortable leather chair.

  "Well then," said Husher, "what exactly are we looking for?" he asked, looking about the room as if he felt sorely out of place, which in fact he was.

  "You're the detective, Inspector," said Lady Marmalade with a twinkle in her eye, "let's detect."

  "Yes, let's just do that."

  "I'm not sure what we're looking for, Inspector," continued Frances. "Could be anything, could be nothing. I'm going to look through his drawers and table to see if I can come up with anything. Perhaps the cabinets under the bookshelves might reveal something, or perhaps something is hidden between the books."

  It was a long shot, but she wasn't certain they would find anything here in any event.

  "I told you about the books I found in Lady Marphallow's home, didn't I?" asked Frances, knowing full well that she hadn't mentioned it at all.

  Husher had moved across to the left bookshelf where the wet bar was. Pearce had started on the right. Husher looked over at Frances and shook his head.

  "No, you didn't," he said.

  "Well, she has her own room for one thing. Not big of course, but the master bedroom seems not to be shared between the married couple."

  "I see," said Husher.

  "Getting more to the point, Inspector," said Frances, "there were several books in her dressing table drawers. Two of them being Sherlock Holmes stories which I believe Paussage had inscribed and likely gifted them to her."

  "What was the inscription?"

  "I don't remember it perfectly but what I do remember was the important bits. He signed it with love and used only his first initial, S."