"Don't matter if you don't believe it. I'm just tellin' you 'ow it 'appens. Our lads in New York get it from us for two 'undred. What they sell it for is up to them."
"I can believe it, Inspector," said Lady Marmalade. "That works out to at least sixteen pounds a bottle. And I'm assuming the Americans are paying for shipping?"
Frances looked at Boyle, and he nodded.
"So at least eighteen pounds to get it there. Who knows how much Boyle's friends in America are selling it for, but certainly not less than three hundred pounds a case."
"I reckon at least that, if they're smart," interjected Boyle.
"I've heard that in some of the Mafia controlled speakeasies a shot of Irish whisky will go for five or six dollars."
"You must be joking?" said the Inspector incredulously.
"Not at all," said Frances. "Irish whisky is prized over Scottish, and it's unavailable except on the black market, and who knows how much is being smuggled in."
"We're the biggest. That I know for a fact," said Boyle.
Frances nodded at Boyle and then looked back over at the Inspector.
"There you go, Inspector. Most Americans who are drinking and that is most Americans overall, are drinking what they call moonshine. Cheap awful stuff so I'm told. But those who can afford it will pay a premium for the real stuff. French wine when it can be had I've heard will go for ten or twenty pounds, and that's not for anything fancy."
Husher frowned and looked over at Pearce.
"You know about this?" he asked.
"I've heard rumors," said Pearce. "Not surprising though. Making something illegal doesn't make it disappear, in fact it often encourages its illicit use. However, prohibition has just started. We're going to have our hands full with this sort of thing the longer it goes on."
Husher didn't say anything.
"As I understand it," said Frances, "prohibition started at the beginning of the year in January sometime."
"I see," said Pearce.
Lady Marmalade looked over at Boyle.
"How long have you been providing liquor?"
"Since the spring miss. But we've only been with the Baron since July."
"And getting round to the main thrust of my question. Why were you watching Baron Marphallow's home?"
Boyle leaned back and smiled coyly.
"You see, we needed to talk to 'im about some of the improprieties in our business dealings."
"Such as?"
"He was trying to stiff us."
"How was he doing that?"
"He was diluting the whisky. He was selling us twelve bot'ls of whisky but only giving us ten. He was diluting ten bot'ls into twelve you see."
"I see. So you were just going to talk to him then, is that what I'm to understand?"
Boyle smiled mischievously, and nodded his head.
"Yes, miss, exactly that. We just wanted to 'ave a friendly conversation with 'im like."
"Bollocks," said Husher. "You murdered a bunch of men in cold blood, not a month ago and you expect us to believe that you were just going to have a polite conversation with the Baron."
Boyle nodded at the Inspector.
"Exactly like that, yes, sir. I'm not a violent man."
Pearce shook his head slowly.
"More likely you were beaten to the murder. Did you get to have this talk with the Baron?"
"No we didn't, constable. We was just s'posed to 'ave a look and see when a good time to talk with the Baron might be."
"So what did you see?" asked Pearce.
"We saw a well dressed couple leave around nine thirty in the evening. They seemed to be friends of the Baron's. He came out to wave goodbye. Him and 'is missus. They were dressed real fine."
"What else?" asked Pearce.
"Then I reckon I saw the butler leave. Must 'ave been around ten that night."
"How did you know he was the butler?" asked Frances.
"He was dressed like one. He saw us, but I gave 'im a look as to suggest he'd be better off minding his own business."
"And from ten until eleven, what did you see?" asked Husher.
"Saw this tall chap come by. He looked like a Lord."
"How would you describe him?" asked Husher.
"He was a tall, thin man," said Boyle. "Very tall he was. Had on a hat, and he walked up to the Baron's place but he didn't go in. He turned before he reached the door."
Husher looked at Lady Marmalade.
"Doesn't sound like Paussage or Huppington," he said.
Frances nodded.
"I'll talk to Loughty about it," was all she said.
Husher nodded.
"What time was that?" he said turning to look at Boyle.
"Before ten thirty. Maybe ten fifteen or ten twenty. We wasn't paying close attention to time you understand."
"Anything else?" asked Husher.
"Yeah, one other thing, Inspector," said Boyle, "just before we was requested to leave by your man we saw another fellow walk up to the 'ouse. Also dressed real nice like. That must 'ave been close to eleven."
"And how would you describe this other man?" asked Lady Marmalade.
"Well fed. I'd say he was two or maybe three of me. A big fat man, short too with a bald head. Couldn't get a real good look, but he done walked up and the lady of the 'ouse she lets 'im in, and pops her nose out to take a look see. What for I 'ave no idea."
"You see him before?" asked Pearce.
"No I 'aven't, constable. I'm not often over on this side of the shore you know."
Pearce looked at Lady Marmalade.
"Huppington or Paussage?" he asked her.
"Sounds more like Paussage," said Frances.
Pearce nodded.
"We might have our man," he said, looking from Lady Marmalade to Husher.
Husher grunted something that sounded like agreement.
"I'm free to go then right, Inspector?"
Husher looked at him and shook his head slowly.
"You taking to clowning around now are you, Boyle? Do I look like the circus to you?"
Boyle didn't say anything, he just smiled at the Inspector.
"You're in here for the long haul mate. As soon as we get some of those witnesses from Dublin, your days of strolling free are gone, Boyle."
Husher stood up, and then Pearce and lastly Frances. Boyle leaned in and reached out for Lady Marmalade but he couldn't reach her. He looked up at her earnestly.
"You promised, miss," he said. "You promised you'd put in a good word."
Boyle frowned at her and Lady Marmalade stopped and looked down at him.
"And I will," she said, and the three of them left the room.
"I hope you're not really hoping to put in a good word for that coldblooded murderer?" asked Pearce.
Frances smiled at him.
"I am a woman of my word constable. And I will tell the judge how helpful he was in this particular case. But whichever judge it is will understand full well that I require no compensation for Boyle's help from him or anyone else for that matter. He will receive the punishment that he rightly deserves."
Pearce nodded slowly, and slowly a grin spread across his face. He understood.
"Good," he said. "Very good."
"I've got some paperwork to do," said Husher. "I need a warrant to compel Lord Paussage to speak with us."
Frances turned towards the Inspector before he left.
"I can get you what you need, Inspector. I'll have a confession out of him before the end of the week if he's the one who did it."
"I'd say it certainly looks like it," said Husher. "I'll wait then to hear from you."
Husher was about to leave again but Frances put her hand on his forearm to stop him.
"If you don't mind, Inspector, I'd rather like to talk with Lord Loughty in a more comfortable setting before you bring him in here for questioning, if you'll permit."
"So long as you include me," said Husher.
"Of course."
Hushe
r left and Pearce and Lady Marmalade stood outside the room where Boyle fidgeted inside like a fish out of water.
"What do you think of this Boyle character and his involvement in the case?" she asked Pearce.
"I don't think he did it. Though if Paussage hadn't, I've a feeling that the Baron would have seen a bad end regardless."
"That's what I fear. How easily men commit these violent matters over such trifling issues."
Frances looked at down at her hands which were clasped in front of her and holding her handbag.
"Quite," said Pearce, looking at her for a moment. "Can I take you home now?"
Frances looked up at him.
"Yes, thank you."
And with that she followed him out of the building and into the fuzzy day. At least that's what it felt like to her. A fuzzy, unkempt day that nuzzled at you like an undisciplined dog or else rained on you when it couldn't make up its mind.
By the time Frances got home, it was pouring. Quite an unusual heavy rain that was quite uncommon for the tail end of autumn, and it made her think of the sad, awkward endings to men's lives having lived so desperately incongruently with even a basic morality.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Loughty Residence
THE following morning had opened the day to a bright sun. It seemed all was forgiven. The only knowledge of the rain from the day before was the still damp grass and the little blisters of it left over on the leaves that had not been torn from limbs by the careless fingers of autumn.
Lord Loughty had made himself available to Lady Marmalade this very afternoon. He didn't live far from the Baron, and as much as he vehemently disagreed with the man's politics, he had found him to be an astute debater and passionate politician. Eric was going to take her to his home for three. He was offering sandwiches and tea, and if the day kept to its promise of sunny skies, it would be a tea for the history books.
Lady Marmalade waited for Eric to bring the car round. He had gone into the office for the morning but had come home for a lunch at one. He pulled the car out front and came back inside.
"It's absolutely wonderful out there, darling," he said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Really? It looks lovely, but is it actually warm?"
"I'd say so. Might even be warm enough to have tea out on the lawn if Larmer's up for it. It must be close to fifteen degrees. A perfect spring day in the dying days of autumn."
"So I don't need much of a coat then."
"I'd take something just to be sure, but not your winter jacket."
Alfred had joined them in the hallway and he helped Lady Marmalade get her autumnal jacket out of the closet. It was a double lined chocolate brown jacket that was knee length. She put on matching brown gloves. Underneath she wore a calf length cream colored skirt with an off white blouse underneath a woolen cream colored Aran pullover with cable pattern. Eric wore a dark grey three piece suit with patent leather shoes and black driving gloves.
"Dinner for when you get back?" asked Alfred.
Frances turned to look at him.
"Not sure how long we'll be," said Frances. "Perhaps not earlier than seven."
"Certainly, my Lady," said Alfred.
"I'll send Ginny off to the butcher just before he closes. It's lamb chops tonight."
"Sounds jolly good," said Eric. "Let's be off, dear, we don't want to be late."
Eric led Frances out the front door and into the car. Alfred closed the door behind them and went back to his chores.
"I can't decide if the Baron's murder is going to help the IRM or hurt them," he said once they were well on their way.
"It shouldn't have anything to do with it," said Frances.
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because they weren't involved in his death."
"I thought you said they would've been if he hadn't have been murdered before they had a chance to get to him."
"Yes, darling, but that's not the point. They didn't do it, so they can't be responsible for something they didn't do."
"Surely this bootlegging business is going to come back on them."
"It will, but they're not known as a charity. I think the public will be hardly surprised to learn that the IRM is in yet more illegal activities. If anything, I should think His Majesty's Government is going to have some explaining to do. I'd say it's given them a black eye."
"That the Baron was murdered."
"No, dear, that their beloved Woolsack was involved with the IRM in providing illegal liquor to the Americans from his own distillery."
"Yes, I can see how that's going to make things awkward for them."
"I think making it awkward is putting it mildly. David George has a lot of explaining to do. I should think the next election will not go to the Liberals but likely the Conservatives."
"I thought you liked George?" asked Eric.
"As far as a politician goes, I do rather like him. But my personal feelings shan't hamper my professional opinions."
Frances looked at Eric out of the corner of her eye with a wry smile on her face. Eric looked over at her and let out a hearty laugh.
"So he won't get your vote then, will he?" asked Eric.
"That remains to be seen, my dear. I'll have to see if he still runs and who's running against him."
They drove in silence for the rest of the way. They arrived with ten minutes to spare, and Lady Marmalade didn't see any police cars parked outside the large residence on Bishops Avenue.
"Looks like we beat Pearce and Husher," she said.
"Good," replied Eric.
"Yes, it is very good. I want to have a chat with Larmer before the police get here. That Inspector Husher can be a little bullheaded sometimes and I fear he just puts people's hackles up."
Eric helped Frances out of the car.
"You attract more bees with sweet honey rather than vinegar, don't you, darling."
Frances nodded, taking Eric's hand as he got out of the car. They walked up the front walkway and to the large wooden door. Eric wrapped the door with the large brass door knocker looking like a lion's head.
Larmer opened the door to them personally. He was a tall and distinguished looking Irishman. Frances liked him a lot, though they didn't visit with him as often as she would have liked. He was a man in his early forties and had never been married. There was much speculation about that, but nothing that could be proved. Frances believed, and rightly so, that he was just disinterested.
"Thank you for having us," said Lady Marmalade.
"Not at all," said Loughty, "it is always a treat to have the Marmalades over for any reason. Though a happier reason is always preferred."
"Isn't it just," agreed Eric, and then added. "What a glorious day we're having."
"Too right. If you're both up for it, I though we should dine outside on the lawn. There isn't very much wind and it's right in the sun."
"Frances and I were just talking about that on the way here," said Eric.
"Good, good," said Loughty, leading them through the house and into the backyard which was an oasis of tranquility. Hedges and trees and gardens for plants were abundant. The grass which was not as green as it would be in the spring and summer was still lush and soft through the feet. They sat down and Frances did find it quite warm and pleasant to be outside at this time of year.
A younger man, perhaps in his early to mid-thirties came up to Loughty. He was clearly a butler by the way he was dressed, and Frances had met him several times before.
"Tea and sandwiches, my Lord?" he asked Loughty.
"Wonderful, and do please keep an eye out for the police. I'm expecting a constable and an inspector at the very least. Show them in and bring them outside to join us when they arrive."
Loughty's butler bowed himself away.
"A wonderful garden you have, Larm," said Frances, looking around at the spacious, rolling grounds. Eric nodded. Loughty brought it all in with a sweeping gaze.
"Thank you, Fran," he said. "It brings me great pea
ce and calm whenever I'm out here. Especially when times are difficult as they have been lately. I often have my best thoughts in this garden. Weather permitting of course."
"It's quite a bit larger than our garden, wouldn't you say, darling?" asked Frances, turning to look at her husband. Eric nodded.
"Quite," he said.
Loughty turned to look at the both of them.
"Aha, but this is my kingdom, my castle if you will. I don't have estates dotted around the countryside," he said, grinning at both of them.
Frances smiled back.
"But it is quite lovely," she said.
"It is. It is my greatest joy. I don't know if you knew this, but I like to spend quite a bit of time tending to the gardens myself."
"But you do employ a groundskeeper as I recall," said Eric.
"Oh yes, but I love to get my hands into the soil. Something primal and peaceful about it, to remember where one comes from," said Loughty. "Remember, man, thou art dust and to dust thou shall return."
He smiled at them and looked away at the gardens again. After a pause he spoke.
"Dreadful business what happened to my neighbor, the Baron."
The Baron wasn't strictly Loughty's neighbor, he was several houses away, but those who lived on the Bishops Avenue thought of each other as neighbors regardless of the distance between each.
Neither Eric nor Frances said anything to that.
"Though I confess to not liking the man, one never wishes such calamity upon one's enemies."
"You didn't really consider him an enemy, did you?" asked Frances.
Loughty turned to Frances and smiled at her.
"Not in that sense, no. But if you'd asked me a week ago, I would have acknowledged that we were political enemies certainly. But then again, I could say the same thing about all of Lloyd George's men."
The butler came out with the housekeeper and laid silver trays of assorted sandwiches and plates and knives on the table in the middle of them. There was a also a silver teapot on another silver tray with a silver bowl of sugar and a silver carafe of milk and one of cream.
"I know you prefer cream with your tea," said Loughty looking at the silver tray carrying the tea and accessories.
"You're very kind," replied Frances.
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