Murder at St. George's Church: a cozy historical mystery (A Ginger Gold Mystery Book 7)

by Lee Strauss

  “Oliver?”

  Oliver turned his back to the body in an attempt to block his bride’s view of the gruesome spectacle. “Perhaps you could find Reverend Markham. He’s in my office.”

  Mary ignored Oliver’s request and walked around him. “Is he . . . dead?”

  It was apparent to Ginger that the choir director was indeed dead—his chest was still, his lips blue, and his eyes open and unblinking. Blood trickled down the side of his face. Haley had rushed over and checked for a pulse.

  “He’s gone,” she said grimly.

  Louisa lowered herself onto a pew away from the dead man, looking green. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Ginger hurried to her side. “Lower your head towards your knees.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to help!” Louisa ripped the spring hat off her head and vomited into it. “Oh, stinkers!” she moaned. “This is so humiliating.”

  Felicia, who had unfortunately encountered death before, displayed a stronger constitution.

  “Felicia, darling,” Ginger pleaded. “Can you assist Louisa? Take her to the ladies’ room to clean herself up.”

  Felicia took Louisa’s arm as the girl bellowed, “I’ve never seen a dead person before. The horror will be etched on my eyelids for all time!”

  “What’s going on here?” Esme’s voice echoed through the nave. Then she saw her husband’s body gawking sightlessly skyward. A hand flew to her bosom. “Dear Lord!”

  Catherine Edwards, having followed her sister-in-law into the nave, fell to her knees. “Theo? Theo?” Her voice grew increasingly hysterical. “Is my brother dead?”

  Ginger rushed to Miss Edwards’ aid. “Come now, get on your feet.” Catherine’s trembling body leaned heavily against Ginger as she moved Catherine to a pew closer to the pulpit and out of sight of the corpse. “Lady Gold, what happened to my brother?”

  “It appears that he fell from the balcony. A terrible accident.”

  Catherine began to sob, and Ginger produced her handkerchief. “Now, try to calm yourself. I’ll see if Mrs. Davies can bring you some tea.”

  Ginger returned to the huddle. By now Mrs. Davies, Matilda, Reverend Markham, and Mr. Piper had arrived.

  “Oh, poor soul,” Mrs. Davies said.

  “Indeed,” Ginger said. “Mrs. Davies, would you mind calling for a doctor and then putting on some tea? I believe we’re all going to need a cup.”

  “Yes, thank you, Lady Gold. I’d be happy to have something useful to do.”

  “Such a tragedy,” Reverend Markham commiserated. “And just before what is meant to be such a happy event.

  Mr. Piper only frowned then went to sit beside Catherine Edwards.

  “How did he fall?” Oliver asked. “I didn’t see.”

  “I didn’t see either,” Ginger said. “I only caught sight of him on his way down.” She turned to the new widow. “Had he gone up there to see you, Mrs. Edwards?”

  “Well, yes.” Mrs. Edwards dabbed at her eyes with the corner of a folded white cotton handkerchief, “but then I left him up there.” She wailed. “He must’ve fallen!”

  “Yes,” Ginger said simply. The fact that he had fallen was evident. “But why? I mean, he wasn’t likely to just tumble over the rail for no reason.”

  “Perhaps he suffered a heart attack,” Reverend Markham said.

  “Well, this is rot,” Mr. Robson said. “The missus ’as beef casserole waiting.”

  “It’s a terrible inconvenience for us all, Mr. Robson,” Ginger said doubting the man would catch the sarcasm in her voice. “But we must all remain here until the police arrive.”

  Haley continued to examine the body. “There’s no sign of flushing to indicate heart failure. Usually, the skin turns red from the chest up.”

  “What are you?” Mr. Robson said snidely. “A doctor?”

  “She’s a student at the London School of Medicine for Women,” Ginger said in Haley’s defence. “You’re welcome to take over if you have better credentials.”

  Mr. Robson huffed but backed away.

  “Haley?” Ginger prodded.

  “He does have a nasty wound on his temple. It’s responsible for the blood on his face and on his shirt.”

  “He must’ve hit his head on something,” Oliver said.

  “Yes,” Haley said, though Ginger noted her friend didn’t sound convinced.

  “Is there a problem?” Ginger asked.

  Haley’s gaze moved from the body to the balcony. “What could he have hit his head on? There’s nothing in the way.”

  “On the edge of the pew, perhaps?” Ginger said.

  “A blow to the head from a fall from that height would’ve resulted in immediate death.”

  “The heart would’ve stopped pumping,” Ginger filled in.

  “Right. Very little blood would’ve resulted.”

  “What do you think it means?” Ginger asked.

  Haley exhaled and stared back. “I think he was struck before he fell.”

  Oxygen sucked out of the room for an instant before everyone gasped.

  “Are you saying you believe Mr. Edwards’ death was intentional?”

  “Yes. He was hit with something, then helped over the rail.”

  “Murder?” Oliver said in disbelief.

  Mrs. Edwards’ knees buckled, and Oliver caught her before she hit the floor. “Oh dear. I shouldn’t have said that out loud,” Oliver said. “Shall I just lay her down?”

  “Yes,” Haley said. She squatted beside the lady who had fainted and held her wrist between two fingers. “Her pulse is strong. She’ll come to, shortly.”

  Catherine’s sobbing had subsided but once again filled the nave with her grief. The way sound travelled in the stone building, there was no way she hadn’t heard Haley’s pronouncement.

  “No one is to leave this church until after the police arrive and say you can go,” Ginger announced formally. “Does everyone understand?”

  “I was sitting next to Miss Gold the ’ole time,” Mr. Robson grumbled. “I ’ardly pushed the man over the railing from ’ere.”

  “Just as a matter of form, Mr. Robson,” Ginger said. She turned to the visiting vicar. “Reverend Markham, would you please ring the police?”

  “Of course.” The heavyset vicar scurried towards Oliver’s office as fast as his short legs could go.

  Catherine Edwards’ sobbing, though quieter now, filled the silence of the sanctuary.

  “Miss Edwards is undone,” Ginger whispered to Haley. “Poor thing.”

  “She could be in shock,” Haley said.

  Mrs. Davies and Matilda arrived pushing a tea trolley. “We don’t normally drink tea in the church, but this is extraordinary.”

  “Agreed,” Oliver said.

  Mrs. Davies handed Catherine Edwards a cup before sitting beside the bereaved lady. She placed a soft arm around Miss Edwards’ thin shoulders and offered motherly comfort. Matilda poured tea for the rest, starting with Mrs. Edwards who immediately joined her sister-in-law on the pew. Neither of the Edwards women wanted to see the broken body of their husband and brother and kept their gazes on the altar ahead.

  Oliver approached Ginger with two cups in hand and gave her one.

  “Thank you, Oliver. I’ve never been in such a need for a cup of tea.

  “My pleasure.” He cleared his throat, his expression strained. “At the risk of sounding extremely insensitive, what of the wedding on Saturday?”

  “I’m afraid you may have to find another church, Oliver. I’m pretty sure the police shall be intruding here for at least a day or so.”

  “I see.”

  “Or,” Ginger added carefully, “you could postpone it.”

  “No, Mary is insistent that we marry immediately. She’s quite determined. One can’t get married just anywhere, as they do in America. It must be a church, and it’s a popular time to wed.”

  “I’m so sorry this incident has happened. What a horrible event to have associated with y
our happiest of days.”

  Oliver’s smile was strained. “Lady Gold, the Lord works in mysterious ways.”

  Ginger had expected Scotland Yard to get involved. A murder at a church was just the kind of thing to get Superintendent Morris excited. She wasn’t surprised to see Sergeant Scott approach, a French Furet camera in hand, but her heart nearly stopped at the sight of Basil Reed. He wore a navy-blue cotton suit with a crisp, white shirt and narrow, black silk tie. He removed his trilby hat.

  How long had he been back in London? And why had he not sought her out? Her stomach churned with emotion: anger, longing. Relief?

  Mostly anger, though Ginger couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. Perhaps because he had claimed to love her and then left the country for six weeks without considering how that would affect her.

  Basil caught Ginger’s eye, his own flashing with surprise and something more personal. Regret? He held her gaze for one long meaningful moment before instructing his team of constables to begin their search for evidence.

  “Hello, Chief Inspector Reed,” Ginger said tightly when he turned back to her. “I admit to being surprised to see you.”

  “You aren’t alone in your surprise,” Basil said. “Another body and here you are.”

  “Oliver is to be married—was to be married—in two days, and I’m here as a choir member. It appears Superintendent Morris has reinstated you.”

  “Yes. I’ve got my credentials back,” Basil said. Basil Reed had been suspended for getting involved in a personal case when he’d been ordered to leave it alone. Morris hadn’t exiled him, though. Basil had done that to himself.

  Ginger was unintentionally blocking the aisle, and Basil had to brush past her to get to the crime scene. The close encounter made her shiver, and she inhaled his musky scent deeply, a move she immediately chastised herself for. She was acquainted with Captain Beale now. Ginger thought of the scent of the captain’s slightly sweet aftershave, suddenly aware of how little impact it had on her senses.

  She swivelled to follow Basil and stood behind Haley who was in a discussion with Dr. Gupta, the city pathologist. Dr. Manu Gupta had been promoted after the former chief pathologist’s fall from grace.

  “Fresh gash at the temple, which happened before he died,” Gupta explained to Basil. “Long enough for blood to spurt with several beats of the heart before breaking his neck on the back of this pew.”

  “Who witnessed his fall?” Basil asked.

  Ginger lifted a hand. “I did. Reverend Hill and I were standing there,” she pointed towards the area near the pulpit. “And I saw Mr. Edwards fall from the corner of my eye.”

  With a short pencil, Basil jotted notes into his pocket notebook.

  “I saw the whole thing,” Louisa said huskily. She’d recovered from her initial shock and came to stand beside Ginger. She fluttered her eyelids as she spoke to Basil. “I was walking through the nave admiring the art, and I just happened to look up as he folded over the rail.”

  “And you are?” Basil asked.

  Ginger rushed to make introductions. “Chief Inspector Reed, allow me to introduce my younger half-sister, Miss Louisa Hartigan.”

  “How do you do, Miss Hartigan,” he said politely.

  Louisa ducked her chin and smiled. “How do you do, Chief Inspector.”

  Basil’s hazel eyes moved from Ginger’s face to Louisa and back.

  “She takes after her mother,” Ginger said, explaining their difference in colouring.

  Louisa laid a dainty hand on Basil’s suit sleeve. “I was terribly frightened, Chief Inspector. It’s such a relief to have a strong, intelligent gentleman to take charge.”

  Haley coughed into her fist, raising a dark eyebrow.

  Basil cleared his throat. “Did you see anyone else up there, Miss Hartigan?”

  Louisa hesitated. “I . . . I’m not sure. I think I saw a flash of fabric.”

  “What colour?” Basil asked. “Do you recall?”

  Louisa shook her head. “I’m afraid not. It happened so fast.”

  “What about you, Miss Higgins?” Basil asked.

  “I had my eyes closed, I’m afraid,” Haley said.

  “She’s been putting in extra hours at the lab,” Dr. Gupta offered. “One of my best students.”

  “I just ’eard the whack of his body landing,” Mr. Robson grunted.

  “I see,” Basil said. “Miss Gold?”

  “I also only heard the body landing,” Felicia answered.

  “Who else was present at the time of death?”

  Oliver spoke. “Only Lady Gold, myself, Miss Gold, Miss Higgins, Miss Hartigan, and Mr. Robson were in the sanctuary. The others had left the room when Mr. Edwards gave the choir a break.

  “And this choir rehearsal was for the benefit of your wedding, Reverend?” Basil asked.

  “Yes. To Miss Mary Blythe.” Oliver pulled the shivering woman to his side.

  “Were you also present, Miss Blythe?”

  Oliver answered for her. “No, she arrived late, just after the sad affair.”

  Basil hummed. “Who else was in the church building?”

  Oliver ran through the list of names. “Mrs. Davies, the church secretary; Miss Hanson who helps her in the kitchen; Reverend Markham who was to conduct our wedding.”

  “Is to,” Mary interrupted. “Is to conduct our wedding.”

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, dear.” Oliver cleared his throat with a look of embarrassment and continued. “Mr. Piper, Miss Bertram, and Miss Howard who are choir members; Mrs. Edwards, the deceased’s wife; and Miss Edwards, the deceased’s sister.”

  “Please get them all to take a seat,” Basil said.

  Sergeant Scott took photographs of the body and the crime scene as one of the constables held and ignited the flash pan. Scott then headed upstairs to the balcony where Theo had toppled over, and the flashes continued.

  Basil stood at the front of the church, facing the small assembly Oliver had called to order. Mrs. Edwards looked stunned, and Miss Edwards looked ill—both of them sniffing into handkerchiefs, their chins down. Everyone else watched the inspector with rapt attention.

  “No one is to leave the church until I say,” he began. “Now, I need to run through Mr. Edwards’ last steps.”

  Miss Edwards filled the sanctuary with a soft moan.

  “I know this is difficult, Miss Edwards,” Basil said gently. “But I’m afraid it’s unavoidable.”

  “I just can’t believe he’s gone,” she said, dabbing her eyes.

  “Mr. Edwards was directing the choir,” Basil said as he moved to the chancel area behind the pulpit where the choir had been located. “About here?”

  Ginger answered. “That’s correct.”

  “Perhaps, Lady Gold, you could join me and tell me exactly where everyone was standing.”

  Ginger inhaled, but went to Basil’s side, just like old times when they had worked on cases together. She threw her shoulders back, determined to be professional. “From left to right in the back row were Mr. Piper and Mr. Robson. In front of them were Miss Bertram, Miss Howard, Miss Hartigan, Miss Higgins, and me. Standing in front of us were Miss Edwards, Miss Gold, Miss Hanson, and Mrs. Davies. Mrs. Edwards was on the balcony at the back, playing the organ.”

  “At what time did Mr. Edwards call for the break?” Basil asked

  “At ten past six,” Ginger said. “Reverend Hill can confirm that I’d checked my watch for the time.”

  Basil nodded. “Then what happened?”

  Ginger cast a glance at the eager faces sitting in the pews. “Well, if my memory serves me, Miss Higgins, Miss Gold, Miss Hartigan, and Mr. Robson walked to the front pew near the north transept and sat. I joined Reverend Hill on the opposite side. I’m not sure what happened to everyone else.”

  “What did Mr. Edwards do?”

  Ginger pointed to the door leading to the vestry. “He went through that door there.”

  “And where does that lead?”

  Olive
r answered. “It leads to the vestry, but there are also stairs to the balcony.”

  Basil addressed Oliver. “Reverend Hill, is there a room where I can conduct interviews?”

  “Certainly. You may use my office,” Oliver said. “Is it okay if Mrs. Davies provides tea whilst we wait?”

  “Of course.”

  Basil turned to Ginger and surprised her by asking, “Would you like to join me?”

  Ginger had often accompanied Basil in past cases. Ginger had convinced Basil that suspects, both male and female, would be more open to talking with a female present, and she had, in fact, been correct. When Ginger had started taking work as a private investigator, Basil had asked her to join him. Since Ginger had a sound alibi, her involvement wouldn’t be considered a conflict.

  “I would, thank you.”

  “Terrific,” Basil said with a smile. “But first I’d like to have a look upstairs.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ginger followed Basil up the circular stone stairwell.

  “So, how long have you been back?” she asked trying, but somehow failing, to keep her voice casual. Her close proximity to this man she once thought she loved had her heart pounding in her chest. She wished to be immune to him by now, but she was anything but. She had to be more diligent than ever to guard her heart and keep her distance.

  Basil answered, “One week.”

  “I see.” One week. A whole seven days. Ginger wondered how long it would’ve been before she would’ve seen Basil if it hadn’t been for this tragedy?

  Basil waited at the top and extended his hand. Ginger held the rail firmly and didn’t need the help, but it was a gentlemanly gesture, and her breeding compelled her to accept.

  “Not necessary, but thank you,” Ginger said.

  Basil was slow to let her hand go. “I would’ve rung you soon,” he said quietly, answering her unspoken question.

  “No need.” She stepped around him towards Sergeant Scott, hoping Basil couldn’t see how her heart had lodged itself in her throat.

  Basil resumed his investigative professionalism. “What have you found, Scott?”

  “Bloodstain on the floor, sir, and on the rail.”

  Basil examined the red smear on the white stucco surface. Ginger’s gaze travelled to the nave below. The ambulance team had arrived. Dr. Gupta had left instructions with Haley, and she was standing with the team overseeing the removal of the body.