"Most likely a crime of passion," said Husher. "Yet there is no sign of forced entry."
"Because the house was not locked at night," said Pearce.
Husher frowned.
"Was this usual or just a forgetful error?"
"Quite usual from what I gather," offered Pearce.
Husher looked over towards the other room where Agnes still sat looking out the window at the blue sky.
"Hmm, I see," he said. "Tell me, Constable, did Lady Marphallow offer any indication that they were robbed during this homicide?"
Pearce shook his head.
"She wasn't certain, but it didn't appear to her that they were, at least preliminarily."
"So perhaps it was a premeditated murder. A crime of passion then," said Husher.
"It is one possibility," said Frances. "Something worth following up upon, and yet there is one little seed of doubt that plants itself in my mind."
"And what is that?" asked the Inspector.
"One stab through the heart. Could be passion driven, and yet coldly calculated," she said.
"Or perhaps," said Pearce, "it was a murder of convenience. The burglar came in to rob them and found the Baron sleeping. Perhaps as he paced around the room looking for valuables the Baron stirred. The burglar then seized the letter opener and stabbed him fatally through the heart, and then in fear of being caught, having escalated his crime, fled the scene without taking anything with him."
"It's a working theory," said Husher.
"Worth investigating," said Frances, as she looked at Pearce. "Remember that Agnes said her husband kept quite a bit of money in his desk drawer in the office."
Pearce nodded his head.
"Well, where is that?" asked Husher.
"We haven't looked for it yet," said Lady Marmalade.
"Then we should get to it right away," said Husher, leading the three of them out of the room and down the hall into the office.
The Baron's office was as big and ostentatious as he was. It was a dark stained teak desk that butted up right against the window and was as wide as the window sill. The chair in front of it was large enough to seat King George V and just as plush. It was apparent that the Baron was a man of large and expensive tastes. The office itself looked small but that was likely due to the imposing desk and chair.
There were bookshelves covering the rest of the walls and on the floor was a large intricately designed and handwoven Persian carpet. It was immaculate. It looked like it had never been stepped upon.
On the desk was a large map of the world in leather bindings. To the right of it was a large brass ashtray that held blocks of cigar ash. A half smoked cigar was resting in the ashtray, its end quite chewed up. A large lighter, the size of a woman's hand was to the side of the ashtray. The fuel bowl was made of crystal and the lighting end of gold. A cigar cutter, also in gold, was off to the right of the ashtray as well.
On the desk were some papers neatly stacked. Frances walked up and took a closer look. She picked them up and leafed through them. In the middle was a letter that had been handwritten. It was addressed to The Right Honorable David Lloyd George.
"Dear David,
It has come to my attention that there are men in the House who would see the government fall to terrorists. These are not our own Lords, but rather a rag tag bunch of crossbenchers and opposition members.
They would have us sit down with members of the IRM. Of course, this cannot be done. Nothing fruitful will come of it. You know my stance on this issue. Lord Paussage and the others are vehemently opposed to any negotiations by our government.
Whatever may come of me, I pray that you hold steady. Do not be persuaded by their use of violence or intimidation. Even if they bring the fight to dear old England. We will fight them back. Regardless of the casualties.
Your dear friend,
Baron Christopher Marphallow"
A fountain pen was in its holder on the left side of the table not far from the edge of the desk map. A bottle of black ink stood closed by its side. Frances picked up the fountain pen with her free hand and touched the nib as if to prick herself. That was not her purpose. She was rather testing to see if the pen was dry or freshly used. It was quite dry.
"Have a look at this letter, Inspector," said Frances, offering it up to Husher.
Husher took it and read it over before passing it on to Pearce.
"Not surprising if you've been following the politics of the land," he said.
"Except," said Frances. "This bit about 'Whatever may come of me'. Don't you find that quite ominous?"
"I do," said Pearce, finishing his reading of the letter. "Lady Marphallow did suggest that her husband had been threatened by Lord Loughty earlier in the week."
"And we'll have a talk with him when we can," said Husher looking around the room. "Now where was this money supposed to be kept?"
Frances reached for the middle drawer right in front of the chair.
"Agnes said that the key for the right drawer where the money was kept, was kept in here," she said, opening the drawer for them to have a look in.
The drawer was as messy as the table top was clean. There were balled up pieces of paper, scissors, empty and used bottles of ink as well as nibs and fountain pens that were clearly broken. There were envelopes and a box of cigars. Frances opened up the cigar box and found it empty except for some coins from different realms. There were silver Morgan dollars and silver Standing Liberty quarters as well as silver rupees in one and five denominations.
Frances picked through the rubbish and the knickknacks in the drawer but could not find a key.
"Can't seem to find it. You might have nimble fingers, Devlin. Why don't you give it a try?" she asked.
Frances moved out of the way to let the Constable get into the drawer. After some time as he swam his hands up and down and left to right all over the drawer he too had to admit defeat.
"I believe it is not there," he said.
Frances nodded.
"Perhaps we might not need it," she said, and tried to give a tug to the top drawer on the right, where Agnes had indicated the money had been kept.
The drawer opened easily. Inside was another cigar box and sheets of paper. Other than that, the drawer was quite barren. It was only about six or seven inches high. Frances took out the cigar box and opened it up. It was empty. There was nothing in it, and nothing to give the impression that the cigar box had ever contained anything. Pearce took the cigar box from Lady Marmalade and turned it upside down and peered at it closely.
"Perhaps Lady Marphallow was misinformed," he offered.
"You're sure she said that the money was in here," asked the Inspector.
Frances and Pearce nodded.
"Quite certain," said Frances. "It has either been taken or she was indeed mistaken. I believe I need to follow up with her about it."
Frances left the study after taking the cigar box back from Pearce and headed down the hall to visit with Agnes again.
CHAPTER TEN
Marphallow Home
AGNES Marphallow had not moved. In fact if she were all white it would seem she was just a statue. Lady Marmalade walked up to her and took the same seat she had been in just before. Agnes turned to look at her and smiled. Her eyes were blood shot. It was clear she had been crying. In her hands was a balled up serviette that seemed damp in places. She was haggard. She looked like a woman who had been dragged through the outer realms of hell.
"How are you, dear?" asked Frances.
"Oh you know," said Agnes, "sometimes I feel alright, and then a wave of reality comes crashing down upon me, and I can't believe Christopher is dead. It seems so unreal. I've turned to look at the couch where he sat and he's no longer there. I wonder if perhaps I just imagined it all."
Agnes took her eyes away from Frances and looked back outside. She squeezed her eyes tight. There was a sting in her throat and her eyes were welling but she got a handle on her emotions.
"I
know this is very difficult, dear. I can only imagine. If I might offer a suggestion, I feel it would be very good for you to spend some time with friends or family, at least for a few weeks while you sort through the duress."
It had dawned upon Lady Marmalade that Agnes was perhaps the prime suspect and the one who at the moment, as the information suggested, would have the most to gain. The Baron was not only a very well connected man politically, but he was also one of the richest men in London. His young wife had her life ahead of her and with new found wealth would be most desirable to many suitors. Nevertheless, Lady Marmalade was not one to jump to rash conclusions. Much further investigation was needed before Agnes could be ruled in or ruled out as a prime suspect.
The current moment required determining the validity of the money left in the cigar box and where it might have found its way if indeed it had been taken. Lady Marmalade placed the cigar box on the table. Agnes looked at it.
"You found the box where Christopher left the money," she said. "Is it all there?"
Frances shook her head.
"I'm afraid not," she said. She opened up the box to show its empty insides. "It is quite empty, Agnes. Are you certain that's where the money was kept?"
Agnes nodded her head.
"Yes, I'm absolutely certain. I had to access it just last night to take a couple of pounds from it. A charity had come by, and as much as Christopher didn't like it, I was moved by the plight of the young orphans and decided to donate two pounds to them. I told Christopher about it, and he grumbled of course, like he usually does."
"What did he say?"
"He said I was just encouraging them that's all. But he wanted to make sure that I had locked the box away. I double checked that I had. So I know it was there when I went to bed. At least it was there a few hours before."
"I see," said Frances. "Is the money kept loosely in the box?"
Agnes shook her head.
"Not at all, I mean there is usually some loose coin there, but the notes are kept tidily in an envelope in sequential order. Christopher is quite adamant about that."
Frances nodded.
"There were no coins, and no envelope. Perhaps it was all taken."
"Well, I took some of the coins," said Agnes. "I think I took a few crowns and some florins, but there were pennies, sixpence and shillings left, of that I'm fairly certain."
Frances nodded.
"Christopher didn't like keeping the pennies, he always took them on his way to work on Monday mornings and he'd toss them at the urchins he saw down by the Thames on his way to the House of Lords. It gave him great pleasure to be able to help those in need."
Frances smiled. Though she wasn't sure how tossing pennies at orphans was helping them improve their situation. Not that she was judging, though it seemed to her that the Baron could have done much more to improve the plight of the underprivileged, and from what she could tell such was not the case. It also seemed odd that he'd be upset at Agnes for donating a couple of pounds to a charity and yet he apparently found pleasure in throwing pennies at the street orphans.
"I see," said Frances. "So you're certain there would have been a collection of coins if only a few."
Agnes nodded.
"What about the notes. How much would you say was in there when you last saw the money in this box?"
"I can't say for certain," said Agnes.
Frances nodded and encouraged her to try.
"But I'd say it was likely closer to one hundred pounds than more. The envelope seemed slimmer than it often was."
"Thank you, dear, this is very helpful," said Frances. "What sort of notes were kept in the envelope. Were they larger or smaller, or an assortment of different denominations."
"If I recall correctly," said Agnes, "the notes started with the ten shilling note and went all the way to the ten pound note, though I think there were only two or maybe three of those. I can't be certain. As for the others I have no idea how many there were. I hadn't looked in the envelope for a week or more."
"You mentioned earlier," said Frances, "that the key was kept in the middle drawer of the desk. Is that correct?"
"Most certainly. You obviously found it then," said Agnes.
Lady Marmalade shook her head.
"I'm afraid not."
Agnes frowned.
"Then how did you open the drawer to retrieve the cigar box?"
"Quite easily," said Frances, "the drawer was open."
Agnes looked away and frowned at the outside world as if it had constructed a puzzling dichotomy for her.
"I see," said Agnes, looking back at Frances.
"So you are quite certain that the key was in the drawer?"
"Yes, quite. That's where I always got it from and that's where I always put it when I was done with it," she said.
"And you're certain that your staff never knew about the money or the key?"
Agnes nodded her head adamantly.
"Yes. Quite. They weren't allowed in the study while Christopher or I were in it. And when our housekeeper needed access everything was put away. Christopher and I have always been quite clear to them that under no circumstances are they allowed to clean or otherwise access any of the drawers in the home other than the kitchen."
Frances nodded.
"I understand," she said. "Perhaps the key will come to light soon. You don't believe that any of your staff might have happened upon it, in the sense of seeing you or Christopher opening the drawer and obtaining money from the envelope?"
Agnes shrugged, slightly defeated.
"I suppose it's always possible. Though I haven't found any of my staff to be particularly nosy. I wouldn't stand for that from any of them. And neither do I believe any of them would steal any money, let alone kill Christopher."
"The two might not be related," said Frances.
"I mean," continued Agnes, "we pay them quite adequately, and none of them seem to be in any sort of trouble."
"Would you know?" asked Frances. "Do you take an interest in their day to day lives?"
"Well, no, of course not. I don't fraternize with my staff, Frances. I'm not a common woman."
Agnes sounded indignant. There was nothing wrong with being on friendly terms with one's staff, at least not in Lady Marmalade's mind. But sadly, those from the lower classes who had married into money oftentimes appeared to be in a rush to wash any stain of their birth from themselves. And this often presented in haughtiness.
"I wouldn't dare suggest that," said Frances, with her tongue in cheek, though Agnes none the wiser. "I only wonder if you might have overheard anything in your day to day activities."
Agnes shook her head.
"No. Like I said. I don't believe any of them have any cause for getting into financial trouble. I pay them well."
Frances wondered if Agnes' idea of sufficient payment was the same as hers. She was doubtful.
"Does your staff live on the premises?" asked Frances.
"No. We have a room off to the side where they can keep their belongings and take their tea. That sort of thing. But Christopher and I much preferred to have them living on their own. After all, we hardly have need for them while we sleep, and it makes me feel uncomfortable to be honest."
"I understand," said Frances. "If you don't mind, I'd like to speak with them, if that's alright?"
"Quite alright," said Agnes. "But I should think you'd be wasting your time."
"And why is that?" asked Frances as she stood up and looked down at Agnes smiling.
"Well, it's like I said, I would be mortified to think that any of my staff were capable of killing my husband, and I doubt they knew or needed to steal the money."
"Well," said Frances, "we'll see. When it comes to murder, I find that even the most unlikely of suspects can sometimes be the perpetrator of even the ghastliest crimes."
Agnes nodded and sat where she had been sitting for pretty much the whole morning.
"I know this is a terrible inconvenience fo
r you, but we need to look around for clues and then after the coroner has finished I'll likely be out of your hair," said Frances.
Agnes nodded again and looked out absentmindedly through the window. Frances stood up and walked out and into the living room and then she took the stairs up to the main level landing. She walked down the hallway, passing a couple of rooms before she got to what looked like Agnes' room. She travelled further and at the end of the hallway was another large room, this one was clearly the Baron's. They didn't share the same room it seemed. She started with the Baron's room.
It was the largest bedroom in the house. Large windows opened up out to the back garden. The curtains were drawn, so Frances went over and opened them to let the light in. The bed was large and didn't look like it had been used the night before. This confirmed her suspicion that the Baron had not been moved, but rather killed where he had been found the next morning. The mattress was on a large iron frame with an ornate headboard.
On the left side of the bed was an intricate carpet and a bedside table with a lamp on it. There was an old cigar in an ashtray. Frances looked in the top drawer, there was a mess of papers in there. It was practically overflowing. Newspaper clippings of various international events. Old books and torn pages from notebooks. Most of them were blank or contained short sentences, what seemed like ideas or topics to be discussed in the House of Lords. Perhaps thoughts that came to the Baron in the middle of the night.
There was also an assortment of knickknacks. A dried fountain pen and some broken pencils. An eraser and marbles for whatever reason. But underneath it all, placed carefully so that it couldn't be seen were some legal documents. Frances took them out of the drawer and looked at them. They were divorce papers. Drawn up by Mr. Henry R. Travers, Esq. The Baron, so it appeared, was going to be divorcing his wife. And the grounds for it were infidelity.
Frances put the papers back into the drawer and piled everything back on top of them. The divorce papers had been signed by both the Baron and his solicitor, but not by Lady Agnes Marphallow. Frances wondered if the Lady knew about it.
Frances continued looking through the rest of the drawers and a large chest of drawers opposite the bed against the wall. There was nothing of note that stood out to her. Attached to the bedroom was a large bathroom with a tub, toilet and sink. A medicine cupboard was found to contain a variety of pills, including those for indigestion, heart and gout. A hair brush was on a small table next to the sink along with shaving soap and a safety razor. A bathrobe in a deep wine red with purple paisley patterning was tossed over the side of the bathtub and looked clean and hardly used.
The Baron at Bishops Avenue Page 8