Gangster's Paradise (Peaky Blinders)

Widowed

 Alex made tea for everyone as Nancy silently sat in her husband's armchair. "I'm sorry, Mrs Fitzgerald," the sergeant began, taking a sip of the badly made beverage. The young groundskeeper had obviously never made tea before. Nancy rejected hers, too numb to drink.

"Where?" she asked, the first word she had managed to get out.

"Some workers found him down by the canal. The morgue reckons he died late Friday night."

"Friday..."

"What killed him?" Alex asked, entered the sitting room with more cups for the other officers.

The sergeant glared at him, refusing to answer the question until Nancy pushed him too. "A single gunshot wound to the chest-"

"So he was murdered?!" Alex exclaimed.

The sergeant glared again. "Yes, looks that way."

"Murdered..." Nancy trailed off, her words failing her. Her world crumbling around her.

"Mrs Fitzgerald, is there anything more you can tell us? When was the last time you saw him exactly?"

"Friday... I uh... I sing Friday's at a pub called The Scarlet Lady, Abraham always... he always starts his Friday night there. It's where we first met. He likes to hear me sing..." A single tear rolled down her cheek. "He arrives at 8 to get the best seat, I sing my first song at 9, he stays till half-past. Usually, he heads to The Golden Rose after that, the casino... he owns it."

The sergeant took note of every word she said. He asked her question after question long into the evening. Nancy's stomach was rumbling, she envied the dogs as Alex headed outside to feed them. "Mrs Fitzgerald, is there anyone you can think of that would do this?" was the sergeant's final question.

Nancy bit her lips, fear rising in her again. "He... he's a good man, he made his money through an honest living, building up the hotels and buying the casino. He bought racehorses, flash cars, this estate..." Her hands trembled as more tears streaked her cheeks. "But lately he... he uh - got in with the wrong sorts. I'm not sure of names, but I could find out."

"If anything comes to mind-"

"I'll call."

"Thank you, Mrs Fitzgerald."

When all the officers left and Alex returned home, only then did the silence begin to haunt Nancy. The eeriness left behind lingered throughout the night. She couldn't fall asleep in the large bed made for 2. She hugged her pillow, crying silent tears into the soft fabric, wishing that her husband was there beside her. An unopened bottle of rum sat on her bedside table courtesy of Ollie. She knew it had to be from him.

The next day she lay in bed until noon, feeling completely lifeless and soulless. The bottle of rum staring back at her. Downstairs she could hear Ruth Fisher her housekeeper bustling about, tending to the mess left behind by the police visit last night. Ruth brought breakfast up to her, a grim expression on her usual cheery face. "Eat," she commanded, "it'll help."

Nancy sat up, forcing herself to at least attempt something. "Has the news broken?" she asked.

"Front page news, there are reporters outside, I've told Alex to chase them."

"Release the dogs if you have to... Does Hanson know?"

"I imagine he's read the paper."

"I should go into town... speak with him."

"No one expects you to do anything, Nancy. You rest, you're in mourning. Business can wait."

On her departure Ruth lifted the bottle of rum, she tried to be discreet about it, but Nancy noticed. Not today, she told herself. When she finally rose from her bed, she dressed all in black before heading downstairs. Ruth had cleaned the entire house, hiding any evidence that muddy police boots had been there the night before. Nancy noticed an absence in today's paper, something that was always present by her husband's armchair by the fire. She's trying to spare my feelings.