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

by Lee Strauss

  Esme cocked her head. “Theo wasn’t really in a position to judge, was he?”

  Indeed, not, Ginger thought. “Has Catherine been holding out hope that Mr. Piper would marry her one day?”

  “Like a dog with a bone. She and Theo had a big row about it. Theo said he’d never give her blessing to marry anyone, especially him. Deep down, Theo never really forgave Mr. Piper.”

  “But they could have wed without Mr. Edwards’ approval,” Ginger said, knowing the law itself wouldn’t have got in the way.

  “Mr. Piper is shamelessly leading our poor Catherine along.”

  Ginger glanced at Basil. Mr. Piper had just jumped to the top of the suspect list.

  “When did this argument between Miss Edwards and Mr. Edwards take place?” Basil asked.

  “It was the day before he died.” Esme stopped suddenly, her eyes wide. “You don’t think that—”

  Catherine is the killer?

  “Mrs. Edwards, it’s important that we find your sister-in-law,” Ginger said. “Do you have any idea where she may have gone?”

  “To see Cecil Piper, most likely.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The weather had worsened during their time interviewing Mrs. Edwards. The sky was a menacing collage of dark greys, and the rain so heavy that Ginger feared her umbrella would refuse to hold up. Despite her best efforts, Ginger’s Georgette silk and lace frock was quite damp by the time she slid into the passenger seat of Basil’s motorcar.

  The windscreen wipers on the Austin 7 laboured under the weight of the pounding storm—thwack, swish, thwack. The effort barely cleared visibility before it disappeared again.

  “It hardly seems safe to drive,” Ginger said.

  “Only fools would be out in this weather,” Basil muttered as he motored onto the road and headed west towards the mental hospital. Apparently, London was filled with fools, proved by the number of motorcars heading in both directions, their large headlamps like massive bug eyes, often the only thing one could make out in the dense fog.

  Even though she could hardly see two feet ahead, Ginger’s eyes focused intensely on the road, as if she could keep the Austin from driving off it with the strength of her will. She found she was holding her breath, her lungs protesting, and she finally exhaled. Inhaling, she forced herself to normalise her breathing.

  “Who killed Theo Edwards?” Ginger said, having gained control of her nerves. “Catherine Edwards or Cecil Piper?”

  Basil answered without taking his eyes off the road in front of him. “They could’ve been working together.”

  “Something doesn’t make sense.” Ginger gripped the ceiling handle tightly. “If they were two lovers separated by Theo Edwards, what’s kept them apart now? With Theo dead, they could marry without hindrance. Why is Mr. Piper hiding his feelings?”

  “Perhaps he’s not,” Basil said. “What if it’s Miss Edwards who longs for that relationship, and Piper doesn’t? It’s the position Mrs. Edwards put forward. Catherine Edwards kills her brother because he’s refusing to bless the romance that she wants, and now she’s being rejected by Cecil Piper.”

  “What about Mary Blythe’s attack?” Ginger asked. “There are many reasons why Catherine might do it—jealousy, anger, hatred—but I can’t think of one reason why Mr. Piper would.”

  “He could’ve done it on Miss Edwards’ behalf. We don’t know how bewitched he is with her, if at all.”

  “If Catherine Edwards feels rejected by Mr. Piper,” Ginger said, “his life might be in danger.”

  Despite the hazardous weather conditions, Basil pushed the accelerator to the floor. Ginger took hold of the ceiling handle with both hands now and muttered a prayer. The Austin fishtailed on the slippery asphalt.

  “We’ll not be much help if we die first!” Ginger said.

  Basil released the pedal, and Ginger breathed in relief. Her thoughts went to Haley—she’d be white by now. And Haley thought Ginger’s driving was bad!

  Basil came up behind two slow-moving motorcars snaking along this narrow road on the outskirts of London. “We may not make it in time with this traffic.”

  Before Ginger could respond, a flash of bright light stunned them. Lightning ripped the sky, followed by the deafening roar of thunder. Basil slammed on the brakes as the motorcars ahead of them came to a sudden stop. Horns began to blow as a large tree, now charred and split in half, started its slow, crushing fall across the road.

  “Turn around!” Ginger barely got the words out of her mouth before Basil made a sharp reversal of direction. He manoeuvred around other motorists who were stopped and staring with stunned gazes.

  The urgency in Ginger’s chest was crushing. They had to get to the County Mental Hospital to prevent a tragedy, but how were they going to do that with the main access road blocked?

  “There’s more than one way to get out of London,” Basil said. He swerved past oncoming traffic and Ginger actually grabbed onto her hat. This must be the fear Haley felt, though in her case, irrationally. Still, Ginger vowed to drive more gently when her friend was in the motorcar.

  The rain was coming down in sheets, making streams out of cobbled roads and rivers out of smooth ones. The Austin swerved sharply and jerked to a stop, nearly throwing Ginger against the window.

  “Basil!”

  “Bloody hell,” Basil said. He opened the door into the rain and stared at the damage. The grimace on his face grew even more dire. “Blasted tyre is flat!”

  Oh mercy! How were they going to get to Cecil Piper now?

  The rivulets prevented Ginger from seeing what was beyond them outside. She prepared her umbrella, quickly rolled down the window and opened the umbrella outside.

  “What do you see?” Basil said, stretching over to her side.

  “There’s a pasture. A cow. Some sheep. A horse tied to a fence.”

  A horse.

  Ginger stared at Basil, her mind turning. “Do you ride?”

  He nodded and started to leave.

  “I’m coming,” Ginger said.

  “Can you ride bareback?”

  “Can you?”

  Mercifully the rain began to lift but the damage from the sudden downpour remained. Basil held her hand, pulling her through the muddy ditch to the fence. Another pair of Italian shoes, ruined!

  It was times like this when Ginger thought that Coco Chanel and her controversial new designs for trousers for women made a lot of sense. As it was, Basil had to help her over the fence, and there was no denying the ripping sound that followed her when she landed on the other side. Oh well. The rain had already ruined her frock.

  “What about the owner?” Ginger asked. They didn’t have time to ask or to inform anyone.

  “I’m commandeering it for police business,” Basil said as he untethered the horse. He helped Ginger up and then hoisted himself on behind her.

  Snapping the reins, Ginger prodded the flank of the beast with her heels. Basil held on as they took off down the lane, westward, towards the mental hospital. The rain pelted their faces like grains of sand. Ginger kept her head down—her hat brim pushed forward as much as possible for protection.

  The urgency of the situation didn’t keep Ginger from being fully aware of Basil Reed’s body pressed up against hers. Not to mention how her frock was forced up scandalously about her thighs, as there was no possible way she could’ve ridden sidesaddle. Especially without the saddle.

  Taking shortcuts, they galloped down narrow roads and trotted along the tracks. Finally, after what seemed like ages, they arrived. With the dark clouds pressing in and around the County Mental Hospital, the asylum appeared disturbingly eerie. A flash of sheet lightning brightened the sky, and for a split second, Ginger was keen to believe in the supernatural. Undoubtedly, this place was haunted.

  She squeezed the horse’s flanks and headed in, its horseshoes clopping noisily on the cobbled drive as he whinnied his protest. Animals had a sixth sense about danger, and Ginger wondered if they were
riding into some kind of trap.

  Unlike their last visit, the grounds were empty. The lights flickered with the next flash of lightning and faded to black. Ginger felt as if she had entered a silent sinister film. Would Cecil Piper pop out from behind a tree and kill her?

  But it wasn’t Cecil Piper that caused Ginger’s blood to run cold. She had to wipe the rain from her eyes as she blinked back in horror. On the rooftop of the main building, with toes gripping the edge, stood a drenched and shaking Catherine Edwards.

  She pointed. “Basil!”

  He hopped off and helped her down, and they dashed to the entrance.

  Cecil Piper, together with a few other staff members willing to submit themselves to the chilly rain, raced outside simultaneously. Their mouths dropped open as they stared up. “Catherine!” Mr. Piper shouted. “Do come down this instant!”

  “Lady Gold?” Mr. Piper said when he registered who had joined them. “Chief Inspector Reed? What on earth?”

  “Never mind that,” Ginger said. “How do we get to the roof?”

  Basil instructed the others before following Ginger and Cecil Piper inside. “Get a blanket and be prepared to catch her if she falls!”

  Inside the gloomy building, gloomier still with the storm’s early darkness and the absence of electricity. Cecil Piper produced a handheld torch, which created eerie shadows.

  “What happened?” Ginger asked.

  Cecil Piper opened a door revealing the staircase and spoke over his shoulder. “She arrived, again demanding that I marry her. It’s a long story, one that I’m ashamed of.”

  “I assume you rejected her advances,” Ginger said as she followed Cecil up the stairs. “And that’s why she wants to take her life?”

  “She’s mentally ill, madam. She needs treatment and medication. Maybe now the government will step in and force the issue.”

  Ginger had thought she’d find Catherine threatening Cecil Piper’s life not taking her own. When they reached the final door, Ginger was quite out of breath. She hoped she wasn’t too late.

  Cecil Piper wrestled with the latch and flung it open, and Ginger let out a small breath of relief when she saw Catherine Edwards’ thin and soaked form standing there. The roof was flat, and Ginger carefully made her way towards the distraught lady.

  “Ginger!” Basil protested.

  “It has to be me, Basil. She won’t talk to a man. I’m certain of it.”

  Basil relented but kept close enough to Ginger to grab her while keeping back enough as to not pose a threat to Catherine.

  “Miss Edwards, do take a tiny step back,” Ginger said gently. “Just so we can talk a little.”

  Catherine twisted her neck towards Ginger’s voice, causing her to quiver. Ginger held her breath. Please, don’t fall!

  Catherine’s arms went out instinctively to reset her balance, shocking her enough to bring her away from the edge. Ginger leaned over to get her breath, both in relief that Catherine hadn’t fallen, and from racing up the dratted stairs!

  “Go away,” Catherine said feebly.

  “I will, I promise.” Ginger took a small step forward. “But let’s have a short chat, shall we? Can you tell me what is distressing you so?”

  “I have no one left to live for. Theo is gone. Cecil doesn’t love me.”

  “You have Esme.”

  Catherine scoffed. “Esme does not love me. She despises me. If it weren’t for Theo, she’d have turned me out on my ear years ago. I’m doing her a favour.”

  Ginger recalled how the two ladies had comforted each other after Theo Edwards had fallen.

  “I don’t think that’s true. She’s quite concerned about you.”

  “She’s protecting her reputation, that’s all.”

  “Would you like to speak to Reverend Hill?”

  “He’d just tell me I’m going to hell.”

  “Reverend Hill is a very compassionate man. He might be able to give you something to hope for, to hang on to.” With each word, Ginger shifted closer to Catherine.

  “That’s the thing, Lady Gold. I don’t want to hope anymore. I don’t want to hang on.”

  “You’re a young lady, Miss Edwards,” Ginger said. “With years of your life ahead of you. There are plenty of suitable, young men, available to meet.”

  “You know that’s not true, Lady Gold. The Great War stole them all. I shall live and die alone.”

  “You’re not alone, love. I’m here.”

  Catherine stared at Ginger, now barely an arm’s-length away. “I killed him, you know.”

  Ginger was certain she knew who she was talking about, but a clear confession would be good. “Killed whom?”

  “My brother, Theo. He robbed me of my happiness. He robbed Esme too, though I don’t care about her. Who knows how many other young ladies Theo hurt. He was a bad man. I hit him with the organ pipe and pushed him. I wanted Esme to go to jail for it. Then they’d both have been gone, and Cecil and I could have had the house.” She added mournfully, “We were to live happily ever after.”

  “We still can!” Cecil Piper had climbed onto the roof. Soaking wet, his balding head glossing in the rain, he pushed up on his spectacles which were steamed up by his breath, and Ginger doubted he could see. “Come down and we can talk about our future.”

  “You’re a liar, Cecil!” Catherine yelled. “Theo was right about that. I killed him for us and you still didn’t want me.” She stepped backwards, one foot sliding off the edge. Lunging, Ginger grabbed Catherine’s wrist just as Catherine toppled and jerked backwards, her wet boots slipping out from beneath her. Catherine dangled by the one hand that Ginger held. Ginger’s body slipped with her.

  “I’ve got you!” Basil gripped Ginger’s legs and leaned back, grunting with the strain from the weight of the two women.

  The rain made Ginger’s grip slippery and bit by bit, she was losing hold. Then she screamed.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  When Pippins announced that William Beale was waiting for Ginger in the sitting room, she was stunned to realise that two days had gone by without the captain ringing her or Ginger ringing him. So much had happened in such a short time.

  The captain was standing when she entered, and she greeted him warmly with a kiss on either cheek.

  “Hello, William. Please sit down. Would you like a drink?”

  William sat on the edge of the settee, his elbows resting on his knees. “I’m fine for now. I have something to say, and I’d rather just do it, if you don’t mind.”

  Ginger eased herself onto the spot beside the captain and clasped her hands on her lap. “All right.”

  “You’ll remember, surely, that I promised to make another proposal two weeks after the last.”

  Boss strolled in and jumped onto Ginger’s lap, perhaps sensing Ginger was in need of some moral support. She stroked his soft fur. “It hasn’t been two weeks, already. Only five days.”

  “Yes, I know,” William said. “The thing is, darling, I won’t be making another offer.”

  Hand still on Boss’ back, Ginger said, “I don’t understand.”

  “I see the way you look at the inspector—”

  Ginger’s palm shot up in protest. “He has—”

  “Please, Ginger,” William said kindly. “I see the way you look at him. You’ve never once looked at me that way. It’s quite obvious with whom you are in love.”

  “William—”

  “Say no more. I’m sure you’ll agree, in time, that this is for the best.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Goodbye, darling,” he said after a moment of awkwardness. He patted Boss on the head. “I’ll see myself out.”

  Ginger was staring blankly at the empty hearth when Haley found her a short while later. They didn’t light the fire in the summer, which was a shame. Snapping and crackling flames had a way of adding warm light and charm to a room. Without it, it just seemed too quiet and gloomy.

  “Was that Captain Beale I just saw le
aving?” Haley asked.

  “Yes, it was. He came to say goodbye.”

  Haley walked to the sideboard. “I think this calls for a drink.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “You’ve had quite the week, finding and saving a man’s murderer.”

  “Well, I didn’t save her. She fell.”

  The large blanket Basil had instructed the male staff members to hold out did its job of saving Catherine Edwards’ life, though it wasn’t enough to keep the poor girl from injury. She suffered a broken arm and several ribs.

  Catherine Edwards confessed to the murder of her brother—she’d followed him upstairs to the balcony when the other ladies had been traipsing to the loo, miraculously missing sight of one another, either taking a different route or being hidden behind one of the cubicle doors. Earlier in the week when the organ tuner had been around, Catherine had serendipitously come to the church with Esme Edwards, and “in a moment of brilliance” – her words—she ‘d remembered the loose pipes when the uncontrollable urge to kill her brother befell her. She also confessed to attacking Mary Blythe and vandalising the church.

  Normally, Miss Edwards would have faced the noose, but hopefully, since mental illness was involved, the courts would extend grace. Basil was confident she’d be sent to Broadmoor—the high-security facility for the criminally insane.

  “All the same,” Haley said. “You solved a crime and got dumped in one fell swoop. It’s bound to make your head spin a little.” Haley handed Ginger a glass of brandy. She lifted hers in the air for a toast. “To new beginnings.”

  Ginger clinked her glass to her friend’s and added, “New beginnings.”

  “Speaking of new beginnings,” Haley started, “what about giving the inspector another chance?”

  Ginger gawked at her friend. “I thought you weren’t a fan.”

  “I’ve had a change of heart.”

  “But he left!”