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

by Jason Blacker

  “I see, so what happened to one of six and two of six?”

  “The first two she burnt, not thinking much of it and being, rightly so, quite upset by them. It was only on the third did she become really concerned and thought she might need to keep them as evidence.”

  Pearce nodded his head thoughtfully.

  “What did the other two say?”

  “She didn’t recall exactly but she said they carried the same threat and tone.”

  “What’s on the other papers you have there?” he asked.

  “These are handwriting samples that I’ve collected from Madge herself as well as the boarders, along with the butler and the housekeeper.”

  “And did you find any match?”

  “Not exactly but I found one similar that might be worth looking into further.”

  “May I see,” said Pearce holding out his hand.

  Frances handed him the seven pieces of paper.

  “Can I take a look at one of the envelopes, too, as comparison?”

  Frances slid one of the envelopes over. Pearce put his monocle back over his right eye and studied each sample in turn, looking at the envelope and then back at the sample. He didn’t say anything. He just took his time and studied each one carefully as though he were looking at counterfeit money.

  “I’d say that it looks like Matilda’s sample is the closest one that matches.”

  Frances nodded her head.

  “I agree.”

  “What I’d like to do is hang on to these and have them studied by our expert graphologist if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all, I’d like to get some sense of who might have written these.”

  “And you think it might have been Matilda from the looks of things. But why?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know. She has a weak motive, that much I’ve managed to ascertain, but as to something stronger, I just have no idea.”

  “What is the motive?”

  “She was embarrassed by Madge one evening, barely after curfew, just when her boyfriend was about to propose to her. Madge kicked him out. She’s also the longest staying boarder in the home, coming up on a year or thereabouts.”

  “Well, if it was Matilda or one of the other boarders, then I’d be more inclined to believe that the threats in these letters won’t be followed through. That would be out of character for someone so close to go to all that trouble and then follow through with it. That might sound counterintuitive, but they’re simply too close. The risk of getting caught is too high.”

  “Agreed, although the threats are very serious in nature and quite threatening. I think the one piece of the puzzle I want to solve is to try and find out what the sins of the father means and whether it has any bearing on Madge or the letter writer at all. And that’s one of the reasons why I wanted to speak with you about this puzzling case. I wanted to see if you can’t give me some clarification on one particular thing.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “I’ve heard that Madge’s parents were murdered when she was a young woman. I’d like to know what you might have on that case?”

  “When do you think this might have occurred?”

  “That’s hard to say. I think she’s in her sixties, so perhaps the mid nineties.”

  Inspector Pearce started writing on a pad of paper that was on his desk. He looked up at Frances in between his scribbles.

  “Do you know their names?”

  “Yes, I was told that Phoebe Gaspar married a Rufus Hollingsberry.”

  “And you don’t know their date of marriage or death or even when Phoebe might have been born?”

  “I’m afraid not Devlin. But I’m sure you’ll be able to find out all you can with the information at hand. You are the best, you know.”

  Frances smiled at him and he couldn’t help but grin like a proud school boy who’d done very well on his Higher School Certificate Examinations. Even though he realized that she was complimenting him to oil the sticky wheel of bureaucracy, she was certainly sincere with it.

  “Let me see what I can do,” he said still grinning at her. “You know that flattery will get you everywhere around here.”

  Frances smiled.

  “I do,” she said.

  Inspector Pearce picked up the phone.

  “Get me Homicide Command.”

  He waited for a moment to be patched through and he looked at Lady Marmalade. Frances had her handbag on her lap and waited patiently, quietly, looking at Pearce as he tapped his pen against the pad of paper on his desk as he waited.

  “This is Inspector Pearce... yes, hello. I’d like to have you look up a case, a murder involving Phoebe and Rufus Hollingsberry. Phoebe née Gaspar... I don’t know exactly, sometime in the nineties... yes, here in London... Good, thank you.”

  He put down the phone and looked back at Frances.

  “That might take a day or two, depending on who gets the task. I’ll ring you up when I have anything.”

  “Thank you so much, Inspector, you’re always so terribly kind.”

  “Not at all. This is certainly a serious matter and I’ll help you get to the bottom of it. If it turns into something more serious, like these letters suggest, then of course we’ll have to take over.”

  “Of course.”

  “With your exceptional help.”

  Frances bowed her head ever so slightly.

  “Tell me more about the characters involved with Ms. Hollingsberry. I’d like to do some background work on some of them to see what sorts of spiders we might find under overturned stones.”

  “That’s a terrific idea, Devlin. I think Lula Beckenswidth might be someone to start with. As I mentioned, she’s the granddaughter of Madge and has been with her grandmother since she was quite young. I’d like to verify if her mother did in fact die from the Spanish Flu or if there was something more sinister involved.”

  Pearce was taking notes as Frances spoke.

  “Do you think she might have anything to do with this business of the letters?”

  “I don’t believe so, Devlin, but one never knows for certain until you rule them out.”

  Pearce nodded his head.

  “I do know that her grandmother is unkind to her and beats her. Just yesterday I saw that she had cuts on her knuckles from her grandmother because she couldn’t get me to come over right away and visit with Madge on Sunday evening when Lula first came over to see me.”

  “That’s quite unfortunate,” said Pearce. “And who is Lula’s mother?”

  “Celia Hollingsberry, and while we’re at it, I wouldn’t mind finding out whatever we can about Lula’s father, a man by the name of Errol Crowley. Madge didn’t have much to say about him. She said she’d never met him.”

  “Errol Crowley,” repeated Pearce, scribbling on his pad of paper. “Never heard of any of these men and women.”

  “Perhaps that’s good news.”

  “Or they’re more devious and we’ve never come into contact with them. Who else? I’m going to put down Colin Abbermann the artist, we’ll definitely have something on him.”

  Pearce wasn’t looking up, he continued writing.

  “Right, well I think all the boarders should be vetted. Colin’s one of them. Then there’s Matilda Parsons, the oldest of the three and the one who’s been a boarder the longest. Also Penelope Sallow. She’s very intelligent but soft spoken and seems to take a fancy to our man Colin.”

  Pearce nodded his head as he wrote down the names that Frances was giving him.

  “Matilda told me an interesting story about a chap that came by once a little while ago. His name was Hiram Gaspar.”

  Pearce looked up, stopping his writing.

  “Interesting. I wonder if he’s any relation to Jasper Gaspar.”

  “Apparently so, Hiram claimed to be Jaspar’s son and he wanted money from Madge, something about being paid what was his due. What do you know about Jasper Gaspar?”

  “He was known as the London L
urker during the seventies and eighties. You might not remember that.”

  Frances shook her head.

  “No, I think I was too young, and I certainly know that you were.”

  “Yes, I read about it as I’m wont to do with older files now and then when I get bored. He used to lurk around homes, spying on ladies as they were bathing or getting ready for bed. He was never caught in the act but a couple of constables spoke to him and wrote a couple of reports about it.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Yes, quite. However, it seems that he never ventured beyond that into more serious crime. At least not that we were able to pin on him. I’ll see what else we might be able to find out about him, though I imagine he’s long dead by now.”

  Frances nodded.

  “Yes, I imagine so.”

  “What was it about this Hiram chap that was so interesting?”

  “Matilda had heard him getting into an argument with Madge. Matilda’s room is upstairs next to Madge’s and she heard the two of them arguing about money and that he wanted some money from Madge which he thought he was owed. He also told her that Jasper was his father.”

  “Why is that so important?”

  “I believe that Jasper was Phoebe’s brother. In other words, Jasper would have been Madge’s uncle.”

  “Right,” said Pearce, scribbling more notes.

  “But perhaps the most interesting part of his visit was when Hiram left Madge’s room and saw Matilda standing in her doorway. He said, according to Matilda, ‘I’d be careful if I was you, dear, there’re bad things bound to happen in this house.’”

  Pearce paused and looked up at Frances, resting the tip of his fountain pen on the pad of paper. It started to bleed out, creating a black circle of wet ink.

  “That sounds threatening to me. Did Matilda feel threatened by it?”

  “She didn’t say so, and I got the impression that she wasn’t.”

  “I see,” said Pearce, nodding and lifting his pen off the paper to staunch the flow of ink.

  “I almost forgot, but one of the more interesting things Matilda overheard Hiram saying was that he would tell her secret to everyone he knew

  . Her being Madge. That’s what really infuriated her and she yelled for Jeremiah, her butler, and kicked Hiram out of her home.”

  “Fascinating. So we have secrets and sins. I have no sense of clarity about this whatsoever.”

  “It is quite the puzzle I agree. We have Colin, Hiram, Penelope and Lula to look into. Also, Madge’s parents and her uncle, Jasper. There are a couple of others who might be worth looking at too.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, there aren’t enough sordid sorts involved as it is.”

  Pearce was grinning.

  “I know, but we’ll get to the bottom of it soon enough. Just one plodding step at a time.”

  “So, who else?”

  “I have handwriting samples from both Madge’s butler, Jeremiah Rondleton, as well as the housekeeper, Mollie Smouthwary. I’m not sure about Mollie, but Matilda has seen a vicious and violent side to Jeremiah that needs further inquiry.”

  “I see. He’s been violent to her?”

  “No, but he seemed to take great pleasure in beating to death a rat and her babies.”

  Pearce looked at her with an arched eyebrow.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but this was a perverse, cruel and unnatural pleasure.”

  “Very well, so Jeremiah and Mollie it is. Not to mention Errol, who is Lula’s father. But what about Celia’s father, did Madge mention him?”

  “Yes, I suppose we should speak about that, too. Rolie Vilvalayn was Celia’s father. She wasn’t with him long, from what I understand. Madge was also married to a Harold Beckenswidth. That’s how Lula got her surname. Madge doesn’t have much good to say about him, but I wouldn’t mind talking to him about Madge and Lula. Apparently he left Madge for a secretary, I was told.”

  “Charming.”

  Pearce was writing all over the top sheet of paper by now, drawing arrows and circles to make sense of the mess of names on the sheet of paper.

  “What about children?” asked Pearce.

  “Harold and Madge never had children together.”

  “That’s a small mercy,” said Pearce focusing on his writing. Frances smiled.

  “Yes, Madge is a very difficult woman to like, Devlin.”

  He looked up at her then.

  “Then why are you taking on her case?”

  “Well, she’s not evil even if she is mean spirited and cruel. And as you know, Devlin, there are other ways of settling differences that don’t include threatening letters and, God forbid, violence. It also helps take my mind off this awful war that’s been dragging on for far too long.”

  “Couldn’t agree with you more. Though it’s bad for business.”

  Pearce smiled softly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m being facetious really. But what we have noticed over these past few years is that there’s less crime generally and especially less violent crime. It appears that having a national enemy to focus on has brought Londoners closer together.”

  “Really? That’s quite interesting and fascinating. Though I dare say a terrible price to pay for having less crime at home.”

  Pearce nodded his head.

  “Yes, I agree, it is rather sad, really.”

  Pearce paused his writing for a moment and looked up at Frances again.

  “Is there anyone else we need to include or are these...” Pearce started counting all the names on his list, his lips moving silently, “fourteen names sufficient?” He smiled cheekily at her. She smiled back.

  “No, I’m afraid there are a few more who are worth noting. Silas Pound, the gardener. He comes by every couple of weeks as I understand, had some upsetting words for Matilda when she was out in the garden reading one day.”

  “Go on,” said Pearce, writing and not looking up.

  “Silas said to Matilda, at least according to her, ‘you’re a pretty little thing, you are. You’d make a fine payment for my troubles.’ Though what troubles those were I can’t say, though Matilda asked him what he meant and he said, ‘for all the trouble there’s been you’d make the proper sacrifice.’ At that point Matilda got up and left when she heard him say, ‘she’ll pay she will, mark my words,’ after her. Lula also heard him say he should rob Madge because she doesn’t pay him well enough.”

  “And has he?”

  “Don’t know. It appears that Madge is quite stingy from all accounts. She did mention a few of her items have gone missing. A hair brush, lipstick, pearl necklace, a gold necklace with cross and a photograph of Celia, Madge and Lula. One item seems to go missing each month around the time the letters arrive.”

  “I see.”

  “Whether Silas took them, though, is another matter. I can’t say one way or the other.”

  “And lastly?”

  “Lastly, if it’s not too much trouble, could you check into the milkman and postman, just to be thorough?”

  “Really, the postman and the milkman?”

  “Well, yes, why not. Just to be thorough.”

  “Okay. What are their names?”

  “The milkman is Tom McMeritt and the postman is Raymond Thompson. The postman I’m particularly interested in. He is, after all, delivering these letters and perhaps he knows more about them than we realize.”

  “And the milkman?”

  “Well, you never know. Perhaps he’s crying over long ago spilled milk.”

  Frances looked at Pearce grinning. He raised his eyebrows.

  “That’s the best you can do?”

  “No, Lula has heard Madge complaining to the milkman about deliveries and spilling the milk when he leaves it.”

  “There seems nobody that this Madge Hollingsberry hasn’t managed to upset in one way or another is there?”

  “I suppose not.”

  Frances paused for a moment and looked down at her b
ag.

  “Madge seems to be inclined to all sorts of hypochondria from what the boarders seem to think. So I’m going to see if I can’t call upon her doctor this afternoon and see if he has anything of value to offer. Perhaps she’s confided in him more than she has with me or Lula.”

  “And I suppose you want me to take a look into his background too.”

  Frances laughed as Pearce grinned at her.

  “Oh no, thank you, Devlin, I’m not sure there’s much to be concerned about there, though if I find anything fishy I’ll certainly let you know. Matilda has overheard Dr. Dankworth tell Madge that her ills are all made up. He gives her sugar pills for them, though, perhaps to placate her.”

  “How do you know they’re sugar pills?”

  “Matilda said she tried one.”

  “That’s not very wise.”

  “No, it’s not, but a few of these young people don’t seem to be interested in wise choices as much as selfish ones, it seems to me.”

  “You might not get much out of this Dr. Dankworth even if Madge has confided in him. I’ve found doctors to be particularly tight lipped about those sorts of things.”

  “I have my ways, Devlin, you know that.”

  “All too well,” he said smiling kindly at her. “But I’ve always had a soft spot for noble Ladies and grandmotherly types.”

  Frances smiled warmly at him.

  “Any doctor worth his salt takes the Hippocratic oath very seriously and it speaks to doctor patient confidentiality.”

  “I know. But then we’re dealing with serious and perhaps significant threats to Madge’s safety. I’m sure he might find his way to seeing that.”

  “That’s fair,” said Pearce scrawling and scribbling on his notes, looking at them.

  “I think I’ve given you a lot to work on,” said Frances.

  Pearce stopped his scribbling and looked at the results on the page. He studied them a moment before he looked up at Frances.

  “Yes, quite a bit. Seventeen names to investigate before the end of the week. Not sure I can manage that, but we’ll see. If nothing else comes up then perhaps I’ll manage.”

  “That would be so kind,” said Frances.

  Off in the distance the whining of mosquitoes could be heard. It wasn’t long before both Frances and Pearce knew what that was. It was the start of the air raid sirens. It was a strange time for attempting an air raid, right in the middle of the morning. It was coming on towards ten thirty.