Murder at the Mortuary: a cozy historical mystery (A Ginger Gold Mystery Book 5)

by Lee Strauss

  “Constable,” he called to a passing officer. “Would you please escort Lady Gold to her motorcar?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And follow her home, to make sure she gets there safely.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Ginger?” Basil said, ducking his chin.

  Ginger’s emotions were all over the place. She swallowed and stood as tall as her bruised body would allow. “I’m fine,” she said as she rambled away. “I’ll come in to give a statement tomorrow.”

  PIPPINS ONLY RAISED a brow when Ginger limped through the French windows of the morning room. It was the closest entrance from the back garden where the garage for the Crossley stood.

  “Shall I have Lizzie draw you a bath?”

  “Thank you, Pips. That would be lovely.”

  Ambrosia always seemed to be around when one hoped to sneak to one’s bedroom unseen and now was no different. She tapped her walking stick on the marble tiles.

  “Ginger, what on earth? Why are you dressed like a gardener?”

  “It’s nothing, Grandmother.”

  Ambrosia’s soft cheeks trembled. “It’s not ‘nothing.’ Are those scratches on your face real?”

  Ginger’s hand flew to her cheek where the throbbing had begun in earnest on the drive home.

  “Good Lord, look at the filth on your hands.” Ambrosia’s voice pitched higher. “Have you had to resort to common labour because you’ve run out of money?”

  “Grandmother! Speculation is unnecessary. I’ll explain after I’ve had a chance to clean up.”

  Ginger left Ambrosia to gape at her and with the aid of the banister pulled herself up the stairs. She heard Ambrosia muttering with exasperation, “It’s not enough that Felicia has made a spectacle of herself, now there’s you.”

  The door to Ginger’s bedroom was open—she always left it open for Boss—and she wearily entered, letting out a long sigh. Boss’ head bounced up from his position at the foot of the bed where he’d been curled up and pleasantly napping.

  “Oh, Bossy,” Ginger said. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” She scooped her pup into her arms and nuzzled her chin into the warmth of his neck. “You smell good. Did Lizzie give you a bath?” She set him down on the bed and began peeling off her own clothes. “I’m sorry, I know I smell awful, but I’m going to set that to rights.” She sniffed her collar and jerked back. She couldn’t believe she’d let Basil get so near her while she was wearing Marvin’s clothes!

  Ginger stripped down, covered herself with a satin dressing gown, and tossed the dirty things into the laundry basket. Lizzie might have questions about the clothing later, but Ginger didn’t feel like addressing that now.

  Sitting at her dressing table, Ginger examined her reflection. A dark bruise had formed on her cheek along with some unsightly scratches. Makeup might cover it, but not sufficiently to make an appearance at Feathers & Flair. She’d have to call in the morning and make an excuse to Madame Roux as to why she couldn’t come in. Ginger was thankful that her shop manager was competent to run things on her own.

  Lizzie tapped on the door and poked her head inside. “The bath is ready, madam.”

  “Thank you, Lizzie.”

  Lizzie frowned as she took in her lady’s condition. “Are you all right, madam? Do you need my assistance? Perhaps a doctor?”

  Lizzie was no stranger to Ginger’s adventurous escapades, and Ginger had on occasion needed her maid’s help to bathe.

  “I’m fine, Lizzie. I can manage on my own.”

  “Very well, madam,” Lizzie said. She bobbed her knees before retreating.

  Ginger wondered if Haley was home. Recent events were in need of discussion. “Bossy, go and find Haley, okay?” The little dog jumped to the floor and stared at his mistress, his stub of a tail wagging eagerly. “Go and find Haley!”

  Boss darted out of the room, which brought a smile to Ginger’s face. “Ow.” Her palm flew to her cheek. It hurt to smile.

  A yellow mat lay on the black and white tiles of the bathroom floor in front of a white porcelain clawfoot bathtub. Ginger sighed as she eased her achy body into the warm and inviting water. After scrubbing down with soap, she lay back to relax and let her mind go.

  Marvin Elliot was up to his eyeballs in trouble.

  Charles Sabini, a powerful man on the wrong side of the law, was the type who had a long reach and a seemingly invincible protective barrier.

  Basil’s frustration at his inability to penetrate and bring down the illegal activities of the mafia was apparent. The mafia leader wasn’t beyond destroying his own property to evade the law. Drugs were a growing problem in England and not just for racehorses. According to Haley, the overdose death rate in humans was growing.

  When Ginger’s mind retraced the discovery of the bomb, her heart raced. She had to breathe through the panic as she relived the moment—scrambling through the dark, feeling lost, and knowing the building was going to blow up any second.

  Basil thought Sabini had got his men to blow up the building to destroy evidence of drug dealing. Somehow, Sabini had learned that Scotland Yard was preparing a raid. Basil suspected the Yard had a snitch; Ginger thought there was more than one. Having lived through bombings during the war, the whole experience at the docks brought unwanted memories to Ginger. At least this time, she hadn’t broken any bones.

  And then there was the almost kiss. That moment whirled in Ginger’s mind over and over again.

  She sighed into the bath water, creating bubbles on the surface.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Boss scratched at the bathroom door just as Ginger was drying off. She opened it, blasting her pet with a burst of steam.

  “Where’s Haley?”

  Boss tilted his head, the pointed ears twitching.

  “No, Haley? Oh dear. I wonder where she is.”

  Ginger dressed for dinner and applied makeup to her bruised cheek to ward off Ambrosia’s inquisition.

  Music from Art Landry and his orchestra filtered through the passageway, and Ginger smiled at the image of Felicia waltzing with a make-believe partner on the other side of her door.

  “Felicia darling?” Ginger knocked.

  The volume of the music was reduced followed by Felicia’s voice beckoning, “Come inside.”

  A blast of pink and cream décor greeted Ginger as she stepped in. Felicia had recently sprayed perfume, a pleasant gardenia fragrance.

  “I see you’re feeling better,” Ginger said.

  Felicia stared at Ginger’s cheek. “Better than you . . .”

  Ginger ducked stiffly to peer into the mirror of Felicia’s dressing table. “Drat. It’s still quite noticeable.”

  “Did someone punch you? No, don’t tell me, you’ve smashed up the Crossley? Oh dear, I loved that motorcar!”

  “None of the above. I fell.”

  Felicia tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “You fell. As in lost your balance and tipped over.”

  “There was more to it than that. Now, don’t be like Grandmother and grill me to death.”

  “Poor Grandmama. I thought she was going to kill me this morning, practically shoving the newspaper with those dreadful photos down my throat. As if my mouth wasn’t already so dry. I almost drank the whole jug of water in one go.”

  “Do you not feel even a tiny bit remorseful?” Ginger asked.

  “Of course, I do. I’m terribly embarrassed. And ashamed. But please don’t tell Grandmama I said that.”

  “Anything you say to me is in the strictest confidence, Felicia. I’m on your side.”

  Felicia pouted as she flopped into a pink and cream striped chair. “What do I do now? I daren’t go out in public ever again. I suppose I shall have to marry one of those dim-witted men Grandmama has selected for me.”

  With tears forming in the corners of her blue eyes, Felicia did look remorseful. “It’s going to be okay, love,” Ginger said kindly. “Everyone will forget all about you once the next scandal comes along.�
��

  Felicia perked up. “I do hope someone does something scandalous tonight.”

  “I’m sure they will,” Ginger said. Her mouth almost pulled into a smile, but she stopped in time and saved herself a spot of pain.

  A book sitting on Felicia’s bedside table caught Ginger’s eye. She held the cover up to Felicia with a look of disbelief. “Married Love?”

  Felicia tucked her chin defensively. “What of it? It’s a travesty how many women go into marriage, even in these modern times, with no idea of what happens on the wedding night. Dr. Stopes is doing the human female species a great service.”

  Ginger didn’t disagree. She’d read Dr. Stopes—Ginger was pretty sure every woman in England had, at least in the upper classes—when the book was published. Copies had flown off the shelf to the dismay of the conservative sort still stuck in Victorian times. Banned in America, Ginger had had one shipped to her under a false name. Still, she hoped that her single sister-in-law was using the information she was acquiring from her association with Mrs. Reed and Dr. Stopes for future use.

  Felicia continued her praises. “Dr. Stopes is a modern woman. A true feminist. She even kept her own name when she got married.”

  Remarried, Ginger corrected mentally. Dr. Stopes had also been divorced, but Ginger wouldn’t judge her for that. No one knew what went on behind closed doors except the two people behind it.

  “You do know that Dr. Stopes is also an advocate of eugenics?” Ginger asked.

  “Only in that, it serves to offer women the option of birth control.”

  “The option in her ‘utopia’ would be for the elite only.”

  Felicia wrinkled her nose. “What do you mean?”

  “Dr. Stopes believes those in our society considered undesirable or feeble-minded should be sterilised, even forcibly, to strengthen the stock, so to speak. Her aim is racial purification.”

  “Oh, well, mostly in theory, I suspect,” Felicia said with some uncertainty. “Not as a rule of thumb. She really does care for the health of women.”

  “Do you know the phrase ‘rule of thumb’ comes from the antiquated law that stated a man could beat his wife so long as the whip was no thicker than his thumb?”

  “Aren’t you just a wet blanket,” Felicia blurted.

  Ginger returned the Dr. Stopes book to the bedside table. “If you’re going to tout yourself as a modern woman, you need to know these things.”

  Felicia huffed. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Ginger smiled, bearing the discomfort to her face. “By the way, have you seen Haley?”

  “She was around earlier. Searching for you, as a matter of fact. She looked quite serious.”

  “More serious than usual?” Ginger asked.

  Felicia grinned. “Maybe not.”

  “I’m going to look for her. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  “Thanks for stopping in, Ginger. I do feel better.”

  Boss followed Ginger down the steps and entered the grand entrance hall just as the doorbell rang out.

  “Who could that be, Bossy?”

  Ginger’s mind went directly to Basil. Would he come to see her already? Perhaps it was about the case and not the near-kiss.

  She opened the door, shocked to see the person standing there—definitely not Basil Reed.

  “Lady Gold. I’m here.”

  Oh, mercy! Ginger had utterly forgotten that Matilda Hanson was due to arrive today. She recovered quickly.

  “Miss Hanson! I wondered when you would get here. Come on in.” Ginger peeked around Miss Hanson to the taxicab waiting.

  “The driver said he’d help bring in my belongings,” Miss Hanson said.

  “Of course. My butler and chauffeur can help.”

  Having heard their voices echoing through the entrance hall, Pippins hurried over. Ginger gave him instructions for Clement and asked for Grace.

  When Grace appeared, Ginger instructed her to take Miss Hanson to the spare bedroom. “She is to be our guest for quite some time, so please help her to settle in and attend to her needs.”

  Grace bobbed. “Yes, madam.”

  Miss Hanson was quite overcome by all the attention. “You’re really so kind, Lady Gold.” She dabbed at tears. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with my problems.”

  “Nonsense. Now, go along with Grace. You’re just in time for dinner.”

  “Pippins,” Ginger said, as the butler returned from the taxi with two suitcases in hand. “Have you seen Miss Higgins?”

  “She popped in for a short while this afternoon, madam. I believe she visited your study.”

  “Thank you, Pips.”

  Clement followed Pippins up the staircase with both arms weighed down with Miss Hanson’s things. Ginger did hope that Ambrosia would behave at the dinner table.

  Boss followed Ginger down the hallway and whined for her to open the green baize servants’ door and follow him to the kitchen where his food bowl was found. “Looking for a snack, are you?” She pushed the kitchen door just wide enough to get a glimpse of Mrs. Beasley and Lizzie working on dinner preparations.

  Ginger stepped away unnoticed by her staff and headed to her study. Pips had done a splendid job in finding her a chair that suited her and didn’t threaten to toss her onto the floor every time she turned in it. Her father’s study comforted her with a sense of his presence. The room was masculine with dark brown panelling. A Turkish carpet lay in front of the hearth, which glowed with burning coal. As a constant reminder, the old painting of George Hartigan as a young man hung on the wall.

  “I miss you, Papa,” Ginger whispered.

  Boss scratched the door and pushed it open.

  “Here, Bossy.” Ginger patted her lap.

  She rubbed his chin, and he nuzzled her neck by pushing his wet nose against her ear as if he were whispering something. Reminding her of something.

  Haley.

  Ginger picked up the telephone and dialled the mortuary. The operator let it ring for a significant amount of time, but there was no answer. Worry spread through Ginger like gooey ink. Haley was always either at the school or at Hartigan House. Her studies kept her too busy for a social life, not that Haley was even interested in one of those.

  Ginger asked to be connected to the medical school reception. Hopefully, Miss Knight was still there to pick up. It rang several times, and Ginger was about to hang up when a panting Miss Knight answered.

  “Miss Knight, this is Lady Gold. I’m looking for Miss Higgins. Would she happen to be in a late lecture?”

  “I’m afraid all the professors have left for the day.”

  “Have you seen Miss Higgins?”

  “I believe I saw her leave earlier this afternoon. Can I help you with anything else?”

  Ginger’s heart sank. “No, thank you, Miss Knight.”

  Lifting Boss off her lap, Ginger placed him on the floor. “I have to go, Bossy, and I’m afraid you can’t come this time.”

  Ginger collected her coat and headed out through the back door where she ran into Mrs. Beasley.

  “Miss Higgins and I will be late for dinner. We have one guest. A Miss Hanson.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  As Ginger backed her Crossley out of the garage, she said a silent apology to Miss Hanson for leaving her alone with Felicia and Ambrosia.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  G inger arrived at the medical school just as the caretaker Frank Morgan was locking the front door.

  “Please, Mr. Morgan, may I come in? I’m looking for Miss Higgins. Have you seen her?”

  Mr. Morgan scowled. “Which one is that? There’s a lot of young women around here. I don’t know their names.”

  “About my height, dark curly hair tucked up at the base of her neck.”

  “The gal who spends a lot of time in the basement?”

  “Yes,” Ginger said.

  “I don’t recall seeing her lately.”

  “Would you mind if I had a look? It’s quite urgent.”
r />   The caretaker huffed in defeat. “If you like.”

  Ginger wasn’t sure about getting locked inside the building with a man who remained on the suspect list. As far as she knew, the person working on this side of the body-pilfering business wasn’t a killer, but you couldn’t trust anyone involved with the mafia.

  “I’ll only be a few minutes,” she said.

  Mr. Morgan leaned his portly body against his broom handle. “I’ll wait.”

  Ginger hesitated. “What for?”

  “So I can lock the door behind you.”

  Ginger hurried down the stairs to the mortuary. She doubted Haley would be there, but hopefully, she’d left some clue as to where she’d gone. So eager was Ginger to get in and out that she almost ran into Sean Brennan just as he was exiting the mortuary.

  “Oh! You startled me,” she said. What was Dr. Brennan doing there? Hopefully, not facilitating another body.

  “Lady Gold?”

  “I’m looking for Miss Higgins.”

  “I’m afraid she’s not here.”

  “Do you know where she is? Have you seen her lately?” Ginger heard the worry in her voice.

  “No, I don’t. I believe she left this afternoon and hasn’t returned.” Dr. Brennan blocked the entrance to the mortuary like he was purposely trying to keep her from going inside. He watched Ginger in a calculating manner, and Ginger’s unease grew. She was alone in this dark building with two men, who, for all she knew, could be working together. She didn’t even have her pistol to protect her.

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” Dr. Brennan asked. He tilted his head and grinned crookedly. Ginger understood his double meaning.

  Ginger played along and looked up at him flirtatiously from under her eyelashes. “Haley, Miss Higgins, asked me to pick up something for her that she left behind since I was going to be in the area anyway.”

  “What is it? Maybe I can help you search?”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s a personal matter. Female items.”

  That did the trick. It usually did with men. Sean Brennan tugged on his waistcoat and stepped aside. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He added a wink and strutted down the corridor.