by Lee Strauss
Dr. Selkirk nodded. “Indeed, he is.”
Ginger explained the new race to Basil. “It’s to be held at Cheltenham.”
“I understand that drug use to enhance racehorses is a growing problem,” Basil said.
Dr. Selkirk’s lips twitched. “I’ve heard that too.”
“Have you ever administered drugs to Silver Bullet or any other horse in these stables?”
The veterinarian’s lips twitched again. “Of course not. That would be illegal.”
Basil scowled at the parroted line.
Dr. Selkirk led Silver Bullet to a long oval watering trough. “If you don’t mind,” he said stiffly. “I’ve got work to do.”
Basil tipped his hat. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Selkirk.”
“I wonder who will ride Silver Bullet now,” Ginger said as they walked away.
The door to the tack room was open, and Ginger spotted the boy who reminded her of Scout. He was looking out of the door as if he were watching for her. They locked eyes, and with a tilt of his head, the boy motioned for her to come inside.
“Just you, madam,” he said.
Ginger glanced at Basil who had watched the exchange. He nodded, letting her know he’d wait.
“Hello,” Ginger said, once inside. “I’m Lady Gold.”
“I know. I heard you talking yesterday when you was here.”
“And your name?”
“Milroy.”
“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Mr. Milroy?”
The stableboy’s eyes grew red at the edges. “I heard you tell the doc that Miss Ellery is dead.”
“That’s true.”
A tear escaped from the lad’s eye, and he frantically wiped at his eyes with his dirty shirt sleeve.
“Were you friends?” Ginger asked gently.
“Yes, madam.”
“I’m sorry for your loss and that you had to hear about it this way.”
“She was killed, wasn’t she?”
“What makes you say that?”
“The boss man were here yesterday in the mornin’. I heard ‘em fightin’.”
“What were they fighting about?”
Milroy glanced about as if the tack could hear them talking.
Ginger encouraged him on. “You can tell me, Milroy. I want to help.”
Milroy leaned in and lowered his voice. “Miss Ellery didn’t like the needles Doc Selkirk was giving Silver Bullet. She wanted him to stop. The boss said no. That Silver Bullet was his horse, and he could do with him what he liked. And what he liked was to win.”
“Who is the boss man, Milroy?”
“Oh, I can’t say his name, madam. I’ve already said too much.”
“Is he Mr. Sabini?”
Milroy’s eyes darkened with fear. He pushed past her to the door and thrust it open. A surprised Basil jumped out of the way.
“You were listening?” Ginger said.
Basil shrugged. “Trying to.”
“The lad is frightened to death.”
“You can recount the details to me on the way back to the mortuary.”
The ride back to the mortuary went quickly as Ginger and Basil had moved professionally beyond their personal wounds to the case at hand.
“This has Sabini’s signature all over it,” Basil said.
“You think he’s responsible for the shootings?”
“Not personally. Sabini wouldn’t get his own hands dirty.”
“So, someone shoots the victims, and another preps the cadavers,” Ginger said. “Dr. Selkirk?”
“He has the medical knowledge,” Basil said. “I’ll get someone to investigate his office.”
“Another person or persons transports them to the mortuary, usually along with legitimate cadavers,” Ginger said, mentally making a list of all the people it took to pull off this crime. “Which means someone making the delivery is working for Sabini as well.”
Basil agreed. “I already have men looking into all the known drivers.”
“And then someone at the mortuary is overlooking the empty registration envelopes.”
“Dr. Brennan or Dr. Gupta,” Basil said.
“Or if someone was producing false papers after the fact, it could be Miss Hanson or the caretaker.”
Basil looked at her. “I thought you weren’t considering Miss Hanson as a suspect.”
“I don’t want to,” Ginger said, “but until we’ve proven otherwise, it behoves me to leave her on the list.”
“We haven’t found evidence of forged documents,” Basil said.
“That’s because Haley intercepted the body of Angus Green before the guilty party could complete the transaction. The identity of each cadaver is disclosed to the medical students after their research on the subject is complete. Someone had to be providing false identification papers to keep suspicion at bay.”
Basil stared at her. “If your theory is correct, there could be more murder victims than these three.”
“Time to review your missing persons’ lists, I reckon,” Ginger said.
Haley was waiting for them when they arrived at the mortuary. “I have the autopsy report ready,” she said without preamble. “The victim was killed approximately twenty-six hours ago. Like the others, there is soil under the nails from Saffron Stables. Also, cocaine powder.”
Ginger and Basil shared a look. Another link connecting the docks to the stables.
“But no narcotics in her system,” Haley continued. “The toxicology reports came back clean. No horsehair found anywhere. Miss Ellery’s hair was short and clean, so any evidence there was washed away when the body was cleansed.”
“Cause of death?” Basil asked for the sake of form.
Haley confirmed. “A bullet to the brain. Death was instantaneous.”
“Same as the others,” Basil said.
“Yes, but there are differences. In this case, the bullet was lodged in the back of the skull.” Haley displayed the lead bullet with a pair of tongs. “Unlike the others, it’s a .41 short cartridge. American. Quite uncommon around these parts. I’ve seen these bullets before.”
Ginger frowned. She’d seen them too.
“What do you mean?” Basil asked.
Haley’s gaze locked on Ginger. “Honey, I believe it’s from your gun.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“F red must’ve nicked it.” Ginger’s surprised look moved from Haley to Basil. “He bumped into me when Haley and I were leaving Saffron Stables.”
Ginger fished through her handbag and shock registered across her face when her fingers touched the Remington. “It’s still here.” She removed the small silver-plated pistol, held it in front of her face with gloved hands, and sniffed the nozzle. “It’s been fired recently.” She checked the barrel. “There’s a bullet missing.”
“If Fred took your pistol,” Haley said, “how did it get back into your handbag?”
“He must’ve passed it on to whoever is working for them here.” Ginger felt violated and exasperated. She pointed to a small desk by the telephone. “I usually leave my handbag and my coat on the chair when I’m here.” Not an intelligent move, in retrospect, Ginger thought, but she always kept an eye on it. It hadn’t occurred to her that her belongings were in danger on school property, especially in the mortuary. It wasn’t exactly a busy place.
Haley stared at Ginger’s handbag. “Anyone who’s been in the mortuary when you’ve been here could’ve replaced it.”
Dr. Brennan, Dr. Gupta. Miss Hanson. Frank Morgan.
Basil considered the possibility too. “Whoever it was took the risk that you’d return to the mortuary, for him or her to gain the opportunity to replace the pistol.”
“But why?” Ginger asked.
“It could be as simple as to throw the Yard off the scent,” Basil said. “It could be Sabini’s way of warning you—me—to lay off.” He removed a paper evidence bag from his pocket and held it out.
Ginger whined. “Not my Remi.”
Basil watched her sternly and shook the bag. “Drop it.”
Ginger dropped the Remington inside. “I’ll have it checked for fingerprints,” he said.
“Doesn’t look good for you, Ginger,” Haley said soberly.
Ginger propped a hand on her hip. “You can’t be serious.”
Haley’s lips pulled up into a mischievous grin. “Of course not.”
“I am,” Basil said. “This is a dire situation.”
Ginger drew back. “Are you going to arrest me?”
Basil huffed. “No. I mean, you could be in grave danger. Whoever has been killing these people has involved you.” His hazel eyes narrowed with concern. “This is the Italian mafia we’re talking about, Ginger. It’s serious.”
Ginger shook her head. “I just can’t believe Sabini would’ve killed his star jockey.”
“Jockey?” Haley said.
“Yes,” Ginger said. “She was impersonating a man.”
Haley’s gaze moved between Ginger and the inspector. “She wouldn’t have been riding for too much longer, anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Basil asked.
“Miss Ellery was expecting.”
“A baby?” Basil stated, obviously needing clarity.
Haley confirmed it. “Yes.”
“That’s motive,” Ginger said. “He gets rid of her because she’s become a double liability, she doesn’t want to drug Silver Bullet, and she can no longer ride as John Ellery.”
Haley trumpeted her lips. “They were drugging the horses?”
Ginger relayed her encounter with young Milroy. “He says Miss Ellery and Sabini had a heated argument over Silver Bullet. I believe Sabini wanted her to inject cocaine to enhance the horse’s performance.”
“He really wants to win that Gold Cup,” Haley said.
“Exactly.”
Haley tidied up the lab and collected her coat.
“I’ll take you both home,” Basil said.
Ginger lifted her chin. “But I have my Crossley here.”
“I want to make sure you get home safely. Until we solve this case, we need to be extra vigilant. I’ll get my men to deliver your motorcar to Hartigan House in the morning.”
“He’s right,” Haley said.
Ginger was grateful to have her friend along for the journey home. If Haley noticed the tension between Ginger and Basil, she covered it well by initiating small talk along the way. Ginger’s relief to be finally turning into Mallowan Court was short-lived.
“The police?” Ginger said, pointing to an open-air motorcar. The driver wore a tell-tale police officer’s helmet.
Ginger’s heart jumped as her imagination went to all the worst places. Had they been robbed? Had Sabini sent another “message?”
The headlamps of Basil’s motorcar lit the scene ahead. A constable opened the door to the back seat and helped out the passenger.
Felicia!
Ginger hurried out of the motorcar and raced down the pavement. “Officer, what’s going on?”
“We were called to the North Star Club. Miss Gold was causing a disturbance.”
Oh, mercy. The North Star Club was a cabaret known for its burlesque dancers.
Felicia jerked her arm out of the policeman’s grasp. “Let meeee go, you big thug!”
Ginger stared into her sister-in-law’s blurry-red eyes. “Felicia, are you drunk?”
“Are you all right here?” Basil asked. “Do you need assistance?”
Ginger and Haley each took one of Felicia’s arms. “We’re fine, Inspector,” Ginger said, hoping that the humiliation she felt didn’t show on her face. “Thanks again for the lift home.”
Pippins opened the door and helped them inside. His face remained stoic, ever professional. He assisted them out of their coats. “Do you need me for anything else, madam?”
“Thank you, Pips,” Ginger said softly, “but I think Miss Higgins and I can manage.”
Ginger and Haley wrestled with Felicia up the long staircase.
“Leeeve me alone,” Felicia mumbled as she tried to twist out of their grips.
“Shh,” Ginger said. “You’ll wake Ambrosia.”
Felicia whimpered, “Mustn’t disappoint Grandmama.”
Ginger shared a look with Haley and shook her head.
“Let’s get you to bed, love,” Ginger said. “You’re going to feel terrible in the morning.”
“I feeeeel terrrrible now.”
“Not so loud, bunny,” Haley said with affection.
“What on earth is going on?” Ambrosia stood at the top of the stairs like an intimidating general.
“Oh, oh,” Felicia said before falling into a fit of giggles. “Caught!”
“Is she drunk?” Ambrosia said.
Ginger and Haley shifted Felicia past the family matron towards the bedrooms. “She might’ve had a little too much,” Ginger said. “Nothing a few hours’ sleep won’t cure.”
“Good Lord,” Ambrosia’s face flushed with mortification. “I hope no one noticed.”
Ginger didn’t see the need to mention the police escort. “Why don’t you go back to bed, Grandmother,” Ginger said. “Felicia’s safe. That’s what matters. Haley and I will put her to bed.”
Felicia’s room was a near replica of the one she’d abandoned at Bray Manor, decorated in pink and white satin. She’d even had her two pink satin pincushion chairs delivered.
Haley helped Ginger lay her on the bed, then Ginger removed her shoes and covered her with the quilt. Felicia placed a hand on Ginger’s arm.
“Thank you, Ginger. You’re the best sister in the whole world.”
Ginger’s heart warmed with affection, and she pushed a strand of dark hair off Felicia’s face. “You’re welcome.”
“Ginger?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t feel well.”
“You do look a bit green.” She turned to Haley just as Felicia began to retch.
“Haley!”
Haley, as if in fast motion, produced the rubbish bin and held it up to Felicia’s mouth just in time.
“Oh, mercy!” Ginger said, her feelings of affection replaced with prickly annoyance. “I do hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
Felicia fell back on her pillow. Ginger offered her the glass of water from the bedside table. “Take a sip.”
Felicia took a small drink and closed her eyes. She was asleep within seconds.
“I pity her in the morning,” Haley said.
“So do I.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
A s per usual, Pippins provided the morning paper at breakfast. “You might want to take a look at the society pages, madam,” he said.
Ginger was suddenly filled with dread, her toast feeling dry in her mouth. She looked across the table at Haley. “Do I dare?”
“Would you like me to do it,” Haley said.
Ginger pushed the paper towards Haley who found the society pages and flicked the newspaper open.
“Hmmm,” she said.
“What?” Ginger demanded.
“Felicia certainly is making a name for herself.”
“Oh, let me see that.”
Haley folded the paper so that the article and the accompanying photographs sat open and slid it across the table.
GOLD COMMODITIES TAKE DIVE
In the first picture, Felicia danced on a table in a nightclub, cocktail in one hand, a string of beads twirling in the other. The second one was a blurry action shot of Felicia falling off the table.
Oh, mercy.
Just as Ginger said, “Let’s hope Ambrosia doesn’t see this,” Ambrosia’s voice bellowed from the landing above the stairs.
“Felicia Gold!”
Haley grimaced. “Too late.”
Ginger pushed away from the table. “I think it’s time for us to leave.”
“Agreed,” Haley said. “What’s on your agenda today?”
“I’m working at Feathers & Flair for most of the day, then after
wards I’m going to deliver Marvin a pair of trousers I picked up from St. George’s that I think he could use.”
“You’re going to look for him?” Haley’s voice was laced with concern. “At the docks?”
“Well, I’ll go to his house first, check on Scout.”
“Good.” Haley’s expression relaxed. “You can leave the trousers there, then.”
When Ginger didn’t immediately respond, Haley narrowed her dark eyes. “You will leave them there.”
Ginger smiled. “Of course.”
A SHORT QUEUE of ladies stood at the front entrance of Feathers & Flair waiting for the doors to open. Ginger smiled, relieved that interest in her shop had returned to normal after an unfortunate occurrence the previous month. Death, especially murder, was sure to attract the attention of the wrong kind of shopper—the kind that didn’t buy—and to repel the sort that did. Ginger recognised these ladies as being the kind that bought—a mother, sister, and daughter trio.
Ginger tapped on the door and watched through the glass as Madame Roux scurried from behind the sales desk to the door. She’d been preoccupied with something hidden out of sight on the counter and had missed opening the door on time.
“Je suis désolée!” she said animatedly. “I should’ve been paying more attention to the time.”
“All is well,” Ginger said. “We’re not being rained on. Isn’t it nice to see a bit of sun?”
“I do believe spring is in the air,” one of the customers said.
“Quite right, Mrs. Johnson,” Madame Roux said. The ladies strolled through the door and began browsing the wares.
Madame Roux took Ginger’s coat and scarf. Ginger had opted to wear a silk headband rather than a hat, a matching silk bell-sleeved blouse, and a skirt ribbed in red and blue.
“No Boss today?” Madame Roux asked.
“He’d just gone out on a walk with Lizzie when I left Hartigan House.”
Ginger did a cursory glance of the shop—everything seemed to be in order— then announced brightly to the shoppers, “Please let one of us know if you need assistance.”
The matron of the group said, “Thank you, Lady Gold, we will.”
Ginger went to the sales desk just as Madame Roux met her from the opposite side. On the counter was the morning paper opened up to the society pages with Felicia’s disgrace front and centre. That was what had captured Madame Roux’s attention. Her manager deftly slipped the paper under a folded scarf. Flushing with embarrassment she said, “A new order of factory-made frocks has arrived.”