Lady Marmalade Cozy Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3)

by Jason Blacker

  “Not out of the question, Flo. Some women keep hoping they’ll change the men they’re with, and some men do change. Perhaps he was about to straighten out and fly right. Though we won’t know for sure until we interview them alone.”

  “Are you going to do that?”

  “Yes,” said Frances, “not before I’ve spoken with James and Agnus though. I could really use a little bit of clarity on this case. At least I want to try and find a clearer path through this. I think there’s more to it than meets the eye.”

  The train started slowing as it pulled into the station, the wheels started squeaking a little more regularly and the engine groaned and moaned.

  “I’d like to know what James and Agnus were up to too. Everyone has to provide an alibi if we’re to eliminate them as suspects.”

  “And Meredith too, she was at the house the whole time apparently,” said Florence.

  “Quite right, Meredith too. How many suspects do you think we have so far?”

  “Five,” said Florence, “Meredith, Jack, Garrett, James the butler, and Agnus the housekeeper.”

  “Don’t forget Enoch,” said Lady Marmalade.

  “I thought you said you didn’t think he did it?”

  “I did, but one mustn’t turn one’s feelings into blinders. We have no strong evidence to the contrary that he didn’t do it. You heard of his whereabouts. He was off eating lunch alone. So until we have strong evidence that someone else murdered Ginnie, I’m afraid, my dear Flo, that we have six candidates vying for our attention.”

  Florence laughed.

  “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

  The train came to a stop and the conductor announced the station. Frances and Florence got off the train, taking with them their handbags which is all they had taken with them to Blackpool, and all they had brought back. Florence’s car had been parked at Puddle’s End station when they first arrived, and like a good steed it waited for them as they returned.

  It was just after five thirty when they climbed into the car and Florence drove them off to the Wet Whistle. Almost a repeat of the evening before to the hour. And like the previous evening, the Wet Whistle was only about a third full at this time. Though Frances noticed that there was a dart tournament happening at eight.

  “I think we came at a good time, Flo, there’ll be throwers tonight at eight. Did you see the sign?”

  “Do you want to stay and watch?”

  “Not particularly, not unless you do.”

  “I’m not bothered one way or the other,” said Florence. “Do you not like the game.”

  “Oh, I like it well enough, but not so much as a spectator. I’ve watched Eric a few times throw darts with some of his friends, but it’s much more fun when you’re throwing them yourself.”

  “So you’ve played then?”

  “Just a couple of times. It’s not normally seen as a lady-like thing to do.”

  “To hell with that, maybe I’ll enter the tournament myself and give these chaps what for.”

  Frances laughed and tapped Florence’s forearm.

  “You know, Flo, I think I’d actually pay to see that.”

  “Me too.”

  The two of them walked up to the bar where Finley was holding himself up, leaning on the ledge behind the bar. He might not have changed and if he had, he was wearing identical clothes to those he had on the night before. Even his sleeves seemed to be rolled up just like they were, just below the elbow. He grinned at them as they came in.

  “My two favorite customers,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Hi Finley,” said Florence.

  “Are you here for chow or conversation?” he asked.

  “Very American of you,” said Frances.

  “Well, we’ve had our share of American sailors over the years, especially during the Great War. I picked up a few extra words from them.”

  He grinned and went to wiping the bar in front of them. It didn’t need cleaning but it was a gentlemanly gesture nevertheless.

  “I think Frances and I will share an order of both,” said Florence, looking at Frances who nodded in agreement.

  “What do you recommend for tonight?” asked Frances.

  Finley finished up wiping the counter and put the cloth down on the ledge that was behind the bar. He grabbed the dish towel over his shoulder and wiped his hands with it.

  “Tonight we’re featuring fish and chips. The freshest cod and the best chips you’ve tasted north of the Channel.”

  “Those are big boots to fill.”

  Finley smiled at Florence.

  “You’ll see, I stand behind my wife’s cooking.”

  “Good enough for me then too,” said Florence.

  “And if you’re feeling particularly thirsty, as I know you might be having just come back from Blackpool, I’d suggest quenching your thirst with a pint of Smithwick’s. Goes very well with the fish and chips.”

  “Sounds exactly like what I need,” said Florence.

  “Me too,” said Frances.

  “Okay, just give me a few minutes and I’ll bring out your food and drinks and we can have a course of that conversation you ordered too.”

  He winked at Florence. Frances and Florence went over to the booth they had sat in the night before. It now felt like their booth. Looking around, Florence saw a group of ladies, four of them, in the booth across from her, where the father and son had been previously. A couple of officers, in their navy blue dress uniforms, were sitting at another table and a middle-aged couple seemed to be enjoying each other’s company at yet another table closer to the sailors.

  “Oh God, Fran,” said Florence as she sat down in the cushioned seat opposite Frances, “I think I might stay here all night.”

  “It has been a busy day hasn’t it?”

  Florence blew air out of her mouth across her face, it was a big sigh.

  “You’ve got me running all over hill and dale,” she said smiling, “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been out and about as much as I have today. Not that I’m complaining though.”

  “Good, because we aren’t quite done yet. It’ll be a couple more days I daresay when things are wrapped, if they are wrapped up.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the Frances I know. Are you doubting your abilities?”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. I meant if this case is wrapped up as quickly as that. Who knows? Might take longer. By the way, remind me to ring up Inspector Gibbard before we leave.”

  “Might be too late, why don’t we wait until we get home in the coziness of my home. Why do you need to speak to him anyway?”

  Frances looked at her watch, it was coming on five to six.

  “You’re right, it might be too late. I wanted to ask him if the coroner had determined time of death for Ginnie.”

  “I think, Fran, that you should phone the coroner directly, you might have better luck with him than with the inspector. He hasn’t warmed to you yet.”

  “At least with the inspector we’ve made each other’s acquaintance, I haven’t yet met the coroner.”

  “True, but perhaps your reputation precedes you? You never know Fran, he might hold you in higher esteem than you realize.”

  Frances laughed heartily.

  “Oh, Flo, you’re too much. I’m just a meddling little old lady, I doubt the coroner of Blackpool has heard of me at all. The only reason I get away with as much as I do with Scotland Yard is because Eric pulled some strings and spoke to the Commissioner. And I suppose I’ll admit that Inspector Pearce and I have warmed to each other over the years.”

  “I think you’re being too modest. I’ll prove it.”

  With that, Finley came by bringing a big pile of chips and a large piece of battered and fried cod on each plate. He carried them along with two pints of creamy Smithwick’s on a large tray. He placed them down in front of each of them.

  “Do enjoy, and if you don’t I’ll have a stern word with the missus.”


  He chuckled.

  “I’ll let you eat and then I’ll be back for our visit.”

  “Before you do,” said Florence, “can you settle a question for me quickly.”

  “Certainly,” he said, clasping the tray behind his back.

  “Frances doesn’t believe that her reputation precedes her. So I wanted to ask you, did you know about Lady Marmalade the detective before I ever mentioned her to you?”

  Finley looked at Frances and smiled.

  “I most certainly did. You’re quite the celebrity it seems, at least in these parts, what with your solving of the vicar’s murder in Ambleside and others you’ve solved in London. I think that’s why Inspector Gibbard might not be as warm to you as he would otherwise be. I think he feels threatened.”

  “See what I mean?” said Florence.

  Lady Marmalade smiled.

  “You’re too kind,” she said, and if you looked closely you might see she was blushing.

  Finley touched her on the forearm.

  “But it doesn’t hurt that Florence sings your praises from the rooftops.”

  He grinned at her.

  “Would you like anything else with your fish and chips?”

  Frances looked at the table and not seeing what she needed, she asked for it.

  “Some vinegar would be nice, please.”

  “Right away,” and with that he left and was back in a matter of moments.

  “I told you,” said Florence.

  “Yes, you did, Flo, you’re a very dear friend. But that doesn’t mean that the coroner has heard of me.”

  Florence took a bite of her fish and chewed before answering.

  “I still think it’s worth a chance.”

  “Agreed.”

  Lady Marmalade dashed salt all over her fish and chips. Then she did the same with the pepper and lastly she emptied most of the bottle of vinegar onto her chips. At least that was the impression she gave. She took the lemon wedge and squeezed it against her fork and dribbled the juice all over her fish. She took her first bite.

  “You know, Flo, I have to say, this public house of Finley’s has some of the best cooking I’ve tasted in the country.”

  “It is good isn’t it. And he didn’t lie about the fish and chips, did he?”

  “He certainly didn’t.”

  “You should tell him that.”

  “Tell him what?” asked Frances, biting a thick chip in half.

  “How good his wife’s cooking is.”

  “I will.”

  They sat in silence then for several minutes. Florence was the first to finish, leaving several chips on her plate. Frances was a close second though she left half her chips behind.

  “That was a lot of good food,” she said, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin. “Too much for me to eat though.”

  Florence laughed.

  “I know, I think they gave us the men’s portion.”

  Finley came by and took their emptyish plates away. Then he came back quickly and tucked himself into the booth on Florence’s side.

  “Please give your wife my compliments,” said Frances. “As I was telling Flo, your wife cooks some of the best food I’ve tasted in the country.”

  Finley looked at Lady Marmalade for a moment and smiled.

  “Really?” he asked.

  “Truly.”

  “Well, I will certainly let her know, and I’m delighted you think so. Thank you.”

  “Thank you, for two nights in a row now, you’ve treated us to wonderful suppers. I fear I may already have put on five pounds in my short stay in Puddle’s End so far.”

  Finley chuckled, looking at her.

  “Well, if you don’t mind me saying, you have room for it on you slim frame. Well, what was it you wanted to chat about?”

  “We wanted to ask you about Garrett,” said Florence.

  “Yes, terrible temper that one, I heard his last girlfriend left him because of it.”

  “Was he violent?” asked Florence.

  Finley nodded.

  “I’m afraid so, I heard he slapped her a few times over the months they were together.”

  “Like father like son, I suppose,” said Florence.

  Finley shook his head and looked at her.

  “No, that’s one thing I can say about Jack. I’ve never seen or heard mention of him hitting anyone, let alone his wife. Can’t say where Garrett picked up that atrocious behavior.”

  “Did he ever hit his mother do you know?” asked Frances.

  “No, I don’t think so. Something like that would have made its way here. From what I have heard, he dearly loved her.”

  “Sometimes that’s a reason to murder,” said Frances.

  “Really?” asked Finley.

  “Yes, inasmuch as murder is so often a crime of passion that the victim is usually known to the murderer, and oftentimes intimately.”

  “We’ll, I’ll be, I’m going to have to keep an eye on the missus,” said Finley.

  “Well, she does have the knives in the kitchen, doesn’t she,” said Florence.

  Finley chuckled.

  “Yes, well, I suppose that’s why I’m so well-behaved.”

  “I was wondering, Finley, if Garrett was here yesterday?” asked Frances.

  “Yes, he was, after you left.”

  “Not before?”

  “No, why?”

  “Well, he said he was, at least during the times when his mother was in the greenhouse. Between two thirty and about four thirty.”

  Finley shook his head and furrowed his brow.

  “No, certainly not at that time. He was only here after nine until about midnight. Drowning his sorrows, he seemed very upset.”

  “About his mother’s death no doubt?”

  “No, apparently not. Well, I should say not only about his mother’s death. I overheard him mumbling to himself something about his sister.”

  “Did you hear anything specific about his sister?” asked Frances.

  “No, other than he kept talking about his ‘bloody sister’ something about ruining everything.”

  Florence looked at Frances.

  “He doesn’t have a sister that I’m aware of, does he?” she asked looking back at Finley.

  Finley shrugged.

  “I didn’t think so. But James was here with a couple of the other butlers from around Puddle’s End and he said something about the poor lad finally finding out about his sister. I didn’t hear anything else about it. Perhaps it was a secret they’d kept from him all these years.”

  “Interesting,” said Frances, “so if he wasn’t here, where could he have been?”

  “Not too far,” said Finley, “at least if you say he left around two thirty and was back by four thirty.”

  “That’s the time the witnesses said he left and we saw him back in the house at around then, didn’t we Flo?”

  Florence nodded.

  “I remember hearing the grandfather clock chime once before he arrived, so yes, it must have been shortly after four thirty.”

  “Well, in his Alfa Romeo he might have been able to get as far as Liverpool and back in a couple of hours. Blackpool or Lancaster and back in the north and Manchester to the south east. Not many other bigger towns he might have gotten to in that time.”

  Finley looked up towards the ceiling.

  “Though I suppose he might have made it to Halifax and back in that time if he were in a rush.”

  Florence looked at Frances and raised her eyebrows.

  “I suppose we have to decide who or what might be out there in those cities that Garrett wanted to visit. And why would he lie to us and more importantly the police about it?” said Frances.

  “The plot, it thickens,” said Florence.

  Frances smiled.

  “There was something else I wanted to mention to you now that you’re here.”

  Frances and Florence both looked at Finley eagerly.

  “What is it?” asked Florence.

&nb
sp; “Doctor Garnet was here last night too.”

  “Luther Garnet?” asked Florence.

  Finley nodded.

  “We met him on Monday night,” said Florence looking at Frances. Frances nodded.

  “Well, he was here with a colleague, I presume, part of their conversation I overheard was about building up a practice together. Anyway, Luther was adamant he couldn’t at the moment because his money was tied up with Jack’s business. Luther as you might now is Ginnie’s brother.”

  Frances nodded.

  “I think that might have been mentioned on Monday night.”

  “It appears he lent Jack a substantial amount of money to keep his business afloat and it sounds like this was several months away. He sounded upset and assured his colleague that he was going to get his money back one way or another, ‘come hell or high water’ was the term he used.”

  “Do you know how much was lent?” asked Frances.

  “No, but it seemed substantial. He was upset and he seemed to suggest that Jack had been using the money for other purposes and not for the business as it was lent. Luther has a temper too, you know what they say about redheads.”

  Finley smiled.

  “It seems I’m not really helping, am I? If anything, this might be making things that much more complicated.”

  Florence nodded, smiling.

  “I’ll say.”

  “At the moment, certainly. This whole Forsyth scene is like peeling an onion, there’s layer upon layer of deceit and misdealings it seems,” said Frances.

  The pub was getting busier. It was coming up on seven and the crowds for the dart tournament were filling up the back of the pub where the darts were. But the front, where Frances and Florence were sitting was getting busier too. And with the busyness came an increase in the ambient noise. And Lady Marmalade preferred quieter environments, not that she had the luxury of enjoying them as often as she’d like.

  Finley looked around. This was the second night in a row that he had left his wife to hold down the fort so to speak. She was getting exasperated at the bar, and she had to take care of the cooking too. She had help in the kitchen, and that’s where she preferred to be.

  “Is there anything else I can help you ladies with?” he asked. “It’s almost seven and I should start preparing for the tournament.”