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

by Jason Blacker

  "'E was tall. Taller 'an you," she said, looking at Pearce.

  "I'm not that tall madam," he said.

  "I 'spose not, but 'e was tall. Definitely over six feet 'e was."

  "How can you be so sure?"

  "I saw him exit the 'ouse over there. And 'e was up to 'ere."

  The woman turns to face her doorframe and puts her hand up towards the top of it to indicate his height.

  "'E was dressed in black too. 'Ad a black cane and black coat. A long black coat almost down to 'is ankles. He also wore a 'at that was squashed on 'is head and 'e 'ad on black gloves."

  Pearce took down the notes as quick as she could speak them.

  "Was there anything else about him that you can think of?" asked Pearce.

  The woman looked over at Davison and smiled at him. She had taken a fancy to the older policeman. Davison nodded at her and pushed an uncomfortable, painful smile onto his face.

  "Well, when 'e left the 'ouse, 'e took a moment to look up and down the lane, like you did," she said, looking at Davison. "Then 'e walked quite quickly down the lane that way. I didn't pay much attention to 'im after that."

  "So he didn't look out of place. You didn't see him carrying a gun or anything like that?" asked Pearce.

  "'E's unusual because 'e's tall, but I've seen 'im visit that 'ouse before. Seen the two of 'em together. Last night 'e actually 'elped carry 'is friend, the short one, into the 'ome."

  "Are you sure about that?"

  "Quite sure. The short one was 'olding onto 'is friend. 'E looked pretty drunk."

  "What time was that?" asked Pearce.

  "Just after midnight I'd say."

  "Did it look if they'd been in a fight?"

  "Couldn't say. It was dark, Serg'nt, and they were walking across the road to that 'ouse you pointed to."

  "Did he stay or did he leave shortly after?"

  "I saw 'im leave. 'E wasn't in 'is friend's 'ouse very long."

  "Did you see him return this morning?" asked Pearce.

  The old woman looked back over at Davison and smiled. Davison wanted to get going, to check on any of the other neighbors.

  "No, I didn't. I 'eard a couple of soft bangs. Like a car might've backfired far down the street. I went to see, but there were no cars around. I did see 'im, the tall one looking out 'is friend's window. Then shortly after 'e left."

  "And this morning then, when you saw the tall friend leave, did he look like he'd been in a fight?"

  The woman shook her head slowly.

  "No, 'e looked very well put together, like 'ed 'ad a good night's rest."

  "And did you or did you not see him carrying a gun or other weapon?" asked Pearce.

  "No 'e didn't 'ave no gun. Just that walking stick I told you about."

  "Thank you, and what's your name madam?" asked Pearce.

  "Mavis Beecham," she said, looking at Davison, and tilting her head and smiling at him.

  "You've been most helpful, Mrs. Beecham?" said Pearce.

  "I 'ave? You can call me Mavis," she said, still looking at Davison.

  "Quite," said Davison.

  Pearce nodded, and turned around, they walked down the steps of Mavis' house and stood on the sidewalk by the road. Mavis watched the two of them, holding the door half ajar. Davison turned to look at Pearce and noticed Mavis standing in her front doorway. He looked up at her.

  "Thank you, Mavis, that will be all."

  She gave him a coy little wave and closed the door slowly.

  "I think she likes you," said Pearce.

  "Yes, well, I'm married, and she's quite a bit older than me."

  "Oh, I don't know about that, not that much older, Inspector," said Pearce smiling.

  "That'll be all, Sergeant," said Davison. "What else can you tell me about the other neighbors?"

  "Nothing, I'm afraid. Both neighbors on either side of Mr. Leak's home are away, and anybody else I was able to interview didn't see or hear anything. Thank God for nosy neighbors like Mrs. Beecham."

  Pearce was looking down at his notebook, flipping through a couple of pages. He put it back into his jacket pocket with the pencil and then twirled both sides of his mustache.

  "We should contact Lady Marmalade this afternoon, Inspector."

  Davison grunted. She was an annoying stone stuck in his shoe, but he had to keep her informed because he didn't want to have to talk to the commissioner about it.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Chapter 22

  PEARCE had called Lady Marmalade up at just after four p.m. She was just finishing up tea outside on the patio, by herself when Alfred had come in to tell her about the call. She wasn't expecting Declan or Eric to be home for some time, though she had been expecting a call from Scotland Yard on that particular day.

  Lady Marmalade was particularly concerned that Davison hadn't yet found out who the whistle belonged to. The longer it went without finding out who it belonged to, the more she was inclined to think it had something to do with the murder. And she wanted this solved before the week was out, if only to offer Gandhi some sort of solace and comfort.

  Alfred drove them both over to Scotland Yard, and this time when they entered the main reception area, Pearce was speaking with one of the constables on duty. He looked up at them as they walked in and smiled.

  There were a few other citizens there on that Friday, late afternoon, on police business. None of which really interested Frances, and neither did she have the time to listen in to what any of it was about. Pearce stepped right out from behind the reception area and gave her and Alfred a warm shake of the hand.

  "So good of you to come," he said.

  "I'm delighted you decided to call," answered Frances, "I was starting to get a little worried that you had been resting on your laurels."

  She smiled at him, because she was only half teasing.

  "Not I," said Pearce warmly, "I give you my word, Frances, that I am dedicated to solving this heinous crime just as quickly as we can. There have been some good developments in the case I think, over the last several hours. Come along and we can talk about it in Inspector Davison's office."

  Pearce led them behind the reception area and down the hall as they had visited before. They were soon ensconced within Davison's office.

  Davison was seated behind the desk and he chose, in his gruff way, not to get up when Lady Marmalade and Alfred walked in behind Pearce. He pointed his hand to the chairs in front of him and Frances and Alfred sat down. Pearce walked out of the small office and came back a few moments later with a hard wooden chair which he sat on.

  "Pearce told me that you've had some promising events occur today, Inspector," said Lady Marmalade, deciding to start the conversation on pleasant terms.

  Davison looked at her and blinked.

  "Well, we went to a murder first thing this morning, if you find that pleasant…" he thought about his tone for a minute and decided that a bit of friendliness wouldn't hurt. "A murder related to Mr. Meda's, we believe."

  Lady Marmalade looked from Davison to Pearce and Pearce nodded at her.

  "Quite right," he said.

  "Yes, that's not quite pleasant, but hopefully this will be the end of it then," she said.

  Davison nodded.

  "I hope so, if we can find the murderer quick enough. If he's killed his mate, I'm certain he might be off to get Mr. Gandhi again."

  "Tell me how you think this is related to Mr. Meda's murder?" asked Frances.

  "Well, we arrived at this modest home in Hackney shortly after noon this afternoon. We find a short man, you'd say he was short wouldn't you Pearce?"

  Pearce nodded.

  "Quite short I'd think."

  Davison looked back at Frances.

  "We found him shot dead. Two bullets to the chest, very similar to how Mr. Meda was shot. I've also received confirmation from Dr. Williamson, the coroner," Frances nodded, she knows the coroner well, "that the bullets he took out of this fellow's chest are .38 Special, and they were fi
red by the same gun, or cane, as was used with Mr. Meda.

  "A cane you say?" asked Frances. Davison nodded. "That would explain the more muffled sound that I heard as compared to a revolver."

  Davison nodded again.

  "Yes indeed. It appears that we didn't find a revolver because there was no revolver to be found, and all eye witnesses that we've spoken to so far confirm that the only thing they noticed were canes or walking sticks."

  "Still, I suppose a revolver could hide in a jacket," said Frances.

  "True, but I believe when we find this chap, we'll find a cane modified to shoot .38 Special bullets."

  "And what was the name of this man who was murdered today?"

  "I wanted you to see this. It gives great insight into who we're looking for and who this lad is."

  Davison opened up his drawer and pulled out the photograph of the dozen policemen as well as the three letters Pearce had retrieved from the house earlier in the day. Davison slid the photograph over towards Frances.

  France picks it up and looked at it.

  "The chap on the far left, the short one, is the fellow who was murdered," said Davison.

  Frances looked at it more carefully and then down at the names inscribed at the bottom of the photograph. She looked up at Davison.

  "You're saying it was a Mr. T. Leak?" she asked.

  Davison nodded.

  "Trafford Leak," he said.

  Frances picked up the three items of post and looked at them, reading the letters and looking at the invoice.

  "He was having some difficulty it would seem," she said.

  "Yes. He's about to have his electricity cut off and his fiancée has called off the wedding and he doesn't have a claim against the Indian Police."

  Frances nodded.

  "I see. That's particularly interesting about being discharged with dishonor from the police. It makes me wonder if it had anything to do with Dharasana."

  "That's something I want to find out," said Davison.

  "Speaking of which, have you found out anything else about the whistle?" asked Frances.

  "I have. This is another interesting bit. It likely belongs to a policeman from the British Indian Police. Those numbers aren't our members' regiment numbers. A chap I know at the Foreign Office says he's seen others like it. It's slightly slimmer than ours as you can see."

  Davison pulls out his own police whistle from the drawer and takes out the one that Frances had found, from his pocket, and places them on the table midway between the two of them. Davison's whistle is indeed thicker as well as shorter. The number on his has four digits whereas the police whistle Frances found has five digits.

  "Do all Scotland Yard whistles have only four digits, Inspector?" she asked.

  Davison nodded and picks up the whistles and puts them away.

  "This is really, very good work, Inspector," said Frances, and she notices Davison starts to smile even as he tries hard not to let it grow. Frances looks back at the photograph and notices the two taller men in the middle of the back row. The one is quite a bit taller than any of the others but a second man is also noticeably tall.

  "You noticed these two tall men at the back?" she asked Davison, keeping her eye on the photograph.

  "I did, and I'd assume that one of them is likely to be the killer of Leak and perhaps of Meda too."

  Frances nods her head slowly.

  "I think you could be right, Inspector. We're looking for an R. Webb and K. Hudnall."

  "We are indeed. I've already asked a colleague at the Home Office to find out if either K. Hudnall and/or R. Webb are in London. If they are, or if one of them is, I'll bet my pension we've got our murderer."

  Frances looked up at Davison and smiled at him.

  "I think you will have, Inspector, I think you will have."

  "I've also sent a telegram to the British Indian Police to try and find out who that whistle belongs to. And speaking of which Frances, I'd be remiss if I did not congratulate you on that find. It is proving to be quite helpful."

  "I am happy to be of service to Scotland Yard. I only hope that we can finish this up in due course and give Mr. Gandhi some comfort. I am planning to visit him tonight at his friend's home for dinner. This is great news that you've been able to uncover."

  "Agreed. We had an eye witness who heard a couple of soft bangs earlier this morning and went to investigate. She saw a tall chap peer out from the living room window of the deceased's house before leaving. He was carrying a cane, wore a long coat and gloves."

  "So you likely won't be able to get any fingerprints then, I imagine?" asked Frances.

  "Doesn't look like it, though I'm having them look for them in any event. Regardless, this women…what's her name, Pearce?"

  Davison looked up at Pearce as he quickly opened up his notebook and flipped back a few pages. He took out his monocle and stuck it in his eye.

  "Uh, Mrs. Mavis Beecham," said Pearce.

  "Right, Mavis said she's seen this tall chap around the Mr. Leak's house a fair bit. Appears they were friends. She saw him bring him home last night at around midnight. The tall one helping the shorter fellow along."

  Frances nodded.

  "I assume she'll be able to identify him then if needs be?"

  Davison nodded.

  "I'm quite certain. Something else that was odd about the deceased, Mr. Leak, is that he appeared to have been involved in a fight the night before or several hours before he was shot dead. We found bruising on his face to indicate as much."

  "And Dr. Williamson confirmed it was prior to his death?" asked Frances.

  "He did. Additionally, there were no signs of struggle. I'd suggest the whoever shot Mr. Leak, and I'm assuming it was his tall colleague, surprised him."

  Frances nodded.

  "I agree. This has been most helpful, Inspector, we can only hope now, that if our suspect is Hudnall or Webb, that they haven't left the country."

  "We'll have a whereabouts on them tomorrow at the latest, and as always we'll keep you informed."

  "I hope that we might get a confession tomorrow, Inspector. I'd hate to see this case take a week or more to solve."

  "As would I," said Davison.

  "Would I also be correct in assuming that if both Webb and Hudnall are in London that you'll be picking both of them up for questioning?" asked Frances.

  "You would, and before you ask," said Davison, "we'll make sure that you are here when we interview them. You have shown yourself to be worthy in that regard from previous interviews you've helped us with."

  "Thank you, Inspector, that would be most kind."

  Frances looked over at Alfred, then at Pearce and finally at Davison.

  "Is there anything else that I might be missing?" she asked.

  "I think that's about all that happened today. Quite a lot I should think. Pearce?"

  Davison looked over at Pearce and he flipped through a few pages of his notebook.

  "Correct, Inspector, there isn't anything else of note. We knocked on doors up and down both sides of the street and the only one who saw anything was Mrs. Mavis Beecham. Interestingly, neighbors on both sides of Mr. Leak's home were not in. If this fellow is professional, which it sounds like he might be, having been in the police, then I assume he checked the neighbors before going to Mr. Leak's to insure some privacy."

  "That's what I would do if it were me," said Frances.

  Frances stood up, and this time both Davison and Pearce stood up with her out of respect.

  "I hope I'm not rushing," she said, "but I do have dinner at six thirty with Mr. Gandhi and his hosts Mr. and Mrs. Bhandari in Ealing. They're wonderful people and she's a marvelous cook."

  "Not at all," said Davison, "Pearce will walk you out. I hope you enjoy your dinner."

  "I will, and it will be all the more enjoyable knowing that I can now share this good news with Mr. Gandhi, we are within sight of the finish line, Inspector, I'm sure of it."

  "I do hope so, Frances, I
do indeed."

  Frances left Davison's office followed by Alfred and Pearce, and Pearce led them back out into the reception area where they said their warm farewells.

  "Who do you like for this murder, Alfred?" asked Frances when they were outside walking towards the car.

  "For Mr. Leak's murder?" he asked.

  "Well, I think it's the same man for both Mr. Leak's and Mr. Meda's."

  "Then I'd have to say I fancy the taller of the two men."

  "Why is that?"

  "It seems to me that whenever we've heard anyone talk about this chap, they always comment on his height. So I'd imagine he's quite a bit taller than average."

  Frances paused by the car and looked at Alfred.

  "I like your deductive reasoning, my dear Alfred," she said smiling at him.

  "Though if you might permit me to put a spanner into the works."

  "Go ahead."

  "Are we certain that these two murders are related?"

  "You would have made a fine sleuth, Alfred, perhaps even a finer sleuth than butler, and you know that's saying a lot."

  Alfred smiled and nodded.

  "But you're correct, I suppose we don't know for certain that this murder is directly related to the first one. However, I believe the evidence is very compelling. For example, all we've heard tell of the events so far is that there were a short and a tall man in the group who were gathered around Mr. Gandhi. We also know that nobody saw any gun of any kind at both scenes, but witnesses identified canes and walking sticks."

  Alfred nodded, holding the door open for Frances.

  "The coroner has also told us that he believes the same weapon fired the bullets that killed both Mr. Meda and Mr. Leak. That in itself, my dear Alfred, is quite damning."

  "I quite agree," responded Alfred.

  "And lastly we have the letters found in Mr. Leak's home. His fiancée is leaving him, likely because he no longer has the means to support her as can be deduced from his inability to pay his electric bill, and lastly, and perhaps most importantly, is the letter from his barrister. Our suspect, Mr. Leak, and I believe him to be equally guilty of Mr. Meda's murder, was recently dishonorably discharged from the British Indian Police. Alfred, if we can tie that to the Dharasana incident, I think we have as solid a case as I've ever seen."