Murder at Hartigan House: a cozy historical mystery (A Ginger Gold Mystery Book 2)

by Lee Strauss

  She forced herself to sit up. Her throat burned as she swallowed. Barely audible, she sputtered, “Boss? Come here, boy.”

  In her mind she saw her beloved pet run to her and jump up. She curled up with the dirty pillow left behind by Andrew Bailey and petted it gently.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Ginger!”

  Someone was shaking her shoulders. Her head rolled from side to side with the movement, but Ginger couldn’t open her eyes.

  “Ginger, wake up!”

  “Mummy?” Ginger mumbled. “Have you come for me?”

  “She’s hallucinating. Pippins! Ring the doctor. We need pilocarpine!”

  “Ginger, drink this. It’s water. It’ll help flush the poison.”

  Ginger’s eyes cracked open. “You’re not my mum.”

  Haley held a glass of water to Ginger’s lips. She couldn’t resist. Maybe it wasn’t even real, an oasis in her own desert, but she drank it anyway, feeling the cool liquid run down her chin.

  Her heart pounded in her chest. “I’m … hot.”

  “I know, darling. Help is on its way.”

  Trembling. Blackness.

  “Ginger! Dr. Longden is here.”

  “Daddy.” Tears dampened her scorched eyes. “Oh, Daddy!”

  “Just drink this back, Lady Gold.”

  Ginger swallowed.

  “Let her sleep now,” the doctor said.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  When Ginger awoke it was morning. Instead of feeling refreshed and energetic, her limbs felt like heavy weights. Her eyes were dry and scratchy, her lips parched.

  “Drink this.”

  Haley lifted Ginger’s head and propped a glass of water to her lips. Ginger drank then let her head flop to her pillow.

  “I feel like I’ve been hit by one of those red General buses.”

  Haley gripped her warm hand and squeezed. “I’m just…” Her voice cracked. “I’m just so grateful you’re still with us.”

  “I’m rather glad myself.”

  “Dr. Longden says you’re going to be fine. The poison will work its way out of your body in a few weeks. In the meantime, you’re meant to rest.”

  “You’ll get no arguments from me. At least not today.”

  Ginger eyed her friend. Unlike the faux bob she usually wore, Haley’s long hair was braided, a single rope that fell over her shoulders, curls escaping. Her eyes were tired with tell-tale rings of worry and fatigue.

  “Did you sleep at all?” Ginger said.

  “A bit. In your chair. I couldn’t leave you until I knew you …”

  Ginger smiled softly. “I’m all right, Haley. I’m going to be good as new before you know it.”

  “I’m counting on that.”

  “How did you find me?” Ginger had been certain death would claim her in the attic room.

  “The boss was going crazy,” Haley said. “Pippins tried to settle him, but the dog continued his antics up the stairs. Pippins followed him to the attic room. When he found it locked, he used the skeleton key he always carries and opened the door.”

  “Oh Bossy,” Ginger said. “You saved my life.”

  On hearing his name, the pup jumped onto the bed. Ginger patted the empty spot beside her and he curled in under her arm.

  “Any word on Mrs. Thornton?” Ginger asked.

  Haley shook her head. “I really don’t know anything. I can call Inspector Reed if you like.”

  A knock on the bedroom door interrupted them, and Haley went to see who it was.

  “Hello, Pippins,” she said.

  There was whispering in the passage so Ginger couldn’t make out the words. Haley stepped back in and said, “I don’t have to call the inspector. He’s here.”

  “What?” Ginger propped herself up on one elbow but didn’t have the energy to swing her legs off the bed.

  “Lie back,” Haley instructed. She propped pillows up against the headboard and helped Ginger to sit upright.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve invited him into my room!”

  “We don’t have a choice. Inspector Reed is here in an official capacity. He was eager to learn that you had woken up.” Haley winked. “I think he’s especially eager for your welfare, Lady Gold.”

  “Oh, pfft.”

  “Are you ready to see him?”

  Ginger may have suffered from poisoning, but her mind wasn’t so clouded that she’d forget proper presentation.

  “Bring me my silk negligee, the emerald-green one,” she instructed. “It’s in that drawer.”

  Haley retrieved the item and helped Ginger into it.

  “And now my makeup box.”

  “For pity’s sake, Ginger. This is a crime interview, not a fashion shoot.”

  “Quite right. It’s too much. Just the mascara and lip balm then.”

  Haley collected the items with mock indignation. “I’ve no doubt your health is on the rebound. Either that or you’re in denial about your feelings for the inspector.”

  “Miss Higgins,” Ginger said. “You keep forgetting that the inspector is married.”

  Haley shrugged. “Yet, he’s failed to produce a wife.”

  “You think she’s a phantom? Why would the inspector pretend to be married?”

  “I’m not saying he’s pretending. Just that the marriage is suspect.”

  Ginger knew this to be true, yet she didn’t want to give Haley any slack. “He wears a ring.”

  “Perhaps he thinks it gains him respect in the community. Or maybe it keeps unwanted female attention at bay. He is rather attractive.”

  “Hmm. I hadn’t noticed.” Ginger stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Oh, mercy. I look dreadful.”

  “You do not look dreadful. You look like someone who barely escaped death. Can I fetch the inspector now? I’m sure he’s on pins and needles.”

  “Yes, all right.”

  Ginger, aware that fussing over her looks at a time like this was the epitome of vanity, scolded herself for it. Haley was right. This wasn’t an occasion to concern herself with her appearance. A small voice accused her—you wouldn’t care so much if it were another inspector coming to interview you. Someone less dashing, perhaps. She pushed the voice aside.

  Haley returned with Basil Reed in tow. His eyes, normally unrevealing with professionalism, flashed with worry, the lines on his brow deepening. “Lady Gold, how are you?”

  “Very tired, but Dr. Longden thinks I’m going to live.”

  Basil Reed collected himself. “Righto. Very good.”

  Haley sat in the chair she’d spent the night in, providing decency to the situation. It certainly wouldn’t do for Ginger and the inspector to be alone in Ginger’s bedroom.

  Inspector Reed’s eyes landed on the framed photo of Sir Daniel Gold on the night table. Ginger noted how his gaze lingered there. “My late husband,” she said, declaring the obvious.

  “I presumed. Is he buried in France?”

  “Oh no. He’s in the family plot at Bray Manor.”

  “Has anyone informed Dowager Lady Ambrosia and Miss Felicia of your … of the unfortunate events which occurred yesterday?”

  “I don’t know. Haley?”

  Haley pushed her braid over her shoulder. “Not to my knowledge.”

  A sense of dread crept up Ginger’s spine. “Do you think they’re in danger, Basil?”

  “I don’t believe so. As a caution, I’ve dispatched two constables to stand watch over Bray Manor.”

  Ginger let out a breath. “Thank you. And if it’s not necessary to the investigation, I’d ask that they remain unaware. Ambrosia’s nerves couldn’t take it.”

  “Of course.” Basil removed his notebook and pencil from the pocket of his overcoat. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I’m sure the doctor’s orders are for you to rest.” He studied his notes, then stared back at Ginger. “Can you relay to me your steps exactly from when you left Scotland Yard yesterday?”

  Ginger inhaled and began her
story. “I took a taxi to the medical school. Haley and I ate together there.”

  “Did you discuss the case?”

  “Yes. I told her about the interview with Andrew Bailey and she told me that Dr. Watts had confirmed that Lord Turnbull had been poisoned, but he had yet to identify which poison.

  “From there, I taxied back to Hartigan House where Mrs. Thornton offered me a cup of tea. I took it in my room because I’m comfortable here. Once I’d drunk a cup, Mrs. Thornton returned, and took me to Bailey’s old room.”

  “Did she say anything to you?”

  “Yes, indeed. A full confession.” Ginger relayed Mrs. Thornton’s relationship to Eunice and how she’d recognised the ring. Basil scribbled furiously in his notebook. “I wondered why she was hovering in the dining area, quite unusual for a cook. She must’ve noticed the similarities in the guest list. Lord Turnbull’s Blue Marlin was a perfect cover for belladonna berry juice. It makes sense now, why Mrs. Thornton took biscuits into the drawing room after dinner. She needed a reason to get to the drinks trolley.”

  “I’ll need to take the bottle of Curacao for evidence,” Basil said.

  Haley interjected. “I still don’t understand why she went after you?”

  Ginger glanced away, feeling ashamed. Her father’s memory and the family name would forever be tainted by these events. “My father was involved with Lord Turnbull, I don’t know how, but Mrs. Thornton considered him guilty by association. The fact that Eunice’s body was found in this house lends credence to this theory.”

  “I think I can set your heart at rest there,” Basil said. “The Yard has scoured all of Lord Turnbull’s finances and business affairs. Lord Turnbull had been running a Ponzi scheme through a joint venture Mr. Hartigan had helped to finance. He had been in Boston for some years, and it appears he was unaware. According to William Hayes, he’d planned to return to London to set things right, but became too ill to travel. He’d instructed Mr. Hayes to go to the police, but Mr. Hayes believed such an action would drag the Hartigan good name through the mud.”

  A huge weight lifted off Ginger’s shoulders at this news. Her father’s reputation would remain intact, the family name unscathed. She felt a sense of gratitude for the solicitor. “He was probably right.”

  “Yes, however, had Mr. Hayes come to the police, Lord Turnbull would be alive.”

  “Is he in trouble?” Ginger asked.

  “He’s protected by solicitor/client privilege.”

  Ginger’s conscience chastised her. She had misjudged the solicitor.

  “Is there anything else you need, Inspector?”

  Basil closed his notebook. “I think that is all for now.”

  Haley broke in. “Any word on Mrs. Thornton?”

  “Oh, yes. I noticed one of your art pieces missing, Lady Gold, and had a wire sent to all the galleries, auction houses, and pawn shops. Mrs. Thornton was picked up in York.”

  “Which piece?” Ginger asked.

  “The Mermaid.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Ginger wasn’t used to eating humble pie, but when she was wrong about something, or someone, she was the first to admit it. She faced Mr. Hayes across his massive oak desk and with genuine contrition said, “I’ve judged you wrongly, Mr. Hayes. For whatever reason, I immediately mistrusted you. I presumed you were cheating my father somehow and instead it turns out you were protecting him and his reputation. I’m deeply sorry for this error and if I’ve wounded you in any way, please accept my apology.”

  William Hayes tented his fingers and smiled. “You’re not the first to misjudge me, Lady Gold, and you shan’t be the last. I take it as a compliment, actually. In my profession it helps to keep people on their toes and guessing. So yes, apology accepted.”

  “Thank you.”

  The solicitor leaned forward and said quietly, “I should offer my own apologies to you, my lady. I cringe at the unprofessional behaviour I displayed in your home. It’s a huge embarrassment, really. I’m much better suited behind a desk with a stack of papers to read and sign.”

  “We all deal with stressful situations differently,” Ginger said. “I’m just sorry you had to experience it all.”

  The solicitor leaned back in his big leather chair and resumed his finger exercises. “As Nietzsche said, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

  Ginger laughed and then stood to leave. “Good day, Mr. Hayes.”

  “Good day, Lady Gold.”

  Ginger claimed a table at a teashop on Regent Street and watched out the window for Haley to arrive. Ginger’s focus moved from the pedestrians on the pavement, horse and buggies, and motor vehicles on the street to her reflection in the pane of glass.

  She removed her gloves and smoothed out her bob, tightening the curls on either side so the tips landed mid-cheek. Her eyes were clear and she looked rested. Dr. Longden had declared her to be atropine-free and given her a clean bill of health. She repinned her black velvet hat. It had a left-side rolling rim with a large forward-facing royal-blue feather, and rested at a perfect angle on her head.

  A moment later, Haley blew in along with a cool mid-autumn breeze.

  “Hello, Nurse Higgins,” Ginger said jovially. “I have to keep calling you that while I can. Before long I’ll be obliged to call you Dr. Higgins.”

  Haley took a seat and removed her gloves. “You can call me whatever you like, Lady Gold.”

  Ginger smiled fondly at her friend. Despite the simple felt cloche on Haley’s head, the wind had wreaked havoc on her faux bob. Long strands of curls framed her wide face.

  The waitress arrived and they placed their orders: mint tea for Ginger and strong coffee—milk and two sugars—for Haley.

  “Good to see you up and about,” Haley said.

  “Oh, I’ve been busy.”

  Haley inclined her head. “Oh, really. Do tell.”

  “First of all, I’ve made a decision about London. I’m staying.”

  “That’s great news!” Haley said. “I mean, I’m only saying that because I’m here. Once I go back to Boston, then I’ll be sadder than a wet cat.”

  “You’re definitely going back?”

  “That was always the plan. Get my doctorate here, then go back to the States to practice. My family’s there. I made them a promise.”

  “Yes, well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re here for another couple of years at least.”

  “At least,” Haley said. Their beverages arrived and they took a moment to savour their first sips.

  Ginger looked Haley in the eye and said with a note of excitement in her voice. “There’s a reason I made you come to Regent Street to meet me.”

  “I wondered about that,” Haley said.

  “See that empty storefront over there.” Ginger pointed to a commercial space in a four-storey building made of limestone with a “To Let” sign in the window.

  “Yes?” Haley said, drawing out the word.

  “It’s been let. To me! I’m staying in London and I’m opening a dress shop!”

  Haley set her coffee on the table as her jaw lagged. “That’s perfect, Ginger!”

  “I know. I need something to do, and well, I love fashion. The kernel of the idea was planted in my mind when Felicia and I were investigating the other shops. I couldn’t help but think running a dress shop would be fun. The people one would meet. The clothes one could wear.”

  “I’ve no doubt that you’ll be the talk of the town in no time at all,” Haley said with a happy glint in her eyes. “Do you have a name picked out?”

  “I do.” Ginger moved an open palm through the air like a banner. “I’m calling it Feathers & Flair.”

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  Stay tuned for news of the Ginger Gold Mystery Book 3 - Murder at Bray Manor by signing up for Lee’s readers list

  A poltergeist guilty of murder?

  Ginger Gold receives a letter from her sister-in-law, Felicia, requesting Ginger come straightaway to her late husband’s family home, Bray Manor. Dowager Lady Gold, Ginger’s nervous grandmother through marriage, believes the old manor is haunted.

  Ginger doesn’t believe in ghosts, but is haunted nevertheless by memories of her husband and the lure of his gravesite she just can’t bring herself to visit.

  In order to keep Bray Manor afloat financially, Felicia and Ambrosia have opened the estate to the public for club meetings and special events. Knitters, stamp collectors and fly-fishers converge weekly—targets for the zeitgeist that seems to find amusement in hiding small things from their owners.

  Bray Manor hosts a dance to raise money for maimed soldiers who struggle with peacetime after the Great War. Felicia invites her flapper friends and her new beau, Captain Francis Smithwick, a man Ginger has met before and definitely doesn’t like.

  When the dance ends with the discovery of a body, Ambrosia is certain the poltergeist is to blame, but Ginger is quite sure the murderer is made of flesh and blood.

  On AMAZON!

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