by Lee Strauss
“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?”
Oliver 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.
“Murder weapon?” Basil asked. Sergeant Scott shook his head. “I’ve scoured the balcony, sir, under every seat, and in every nook and cranny.”
Ginger walked towards the organ loft. Basil followed her through the narrow walkway. She kept her head held high but knowing that Basil was watching her from behind made her pulse soar. She hoped the lines on the back of her stockings were straight!
Tucked into a shallow stone alcove, was a small free-standing organ with a series of tin pipes of various sizes jutting out from the top of a dark mahogany console. The original instrument had been much larger, but when the church needed money to keep up the older building, it was sold. As far as Ginger was concerned, this smaller version was more than loud enough.
“If Mrs. Edwards killed her husband,” Basil said, “she might’ve followed him after he spoke to her.”
“I witnessed an argument earlier between the two of them,” Ginger said.
Basil stilled. “Is that so? Did you hear what it was about?”
“No. But she wasn’t afraid to push back. When Mr. Edwards yelled later about her organ-playing skills, she just pounded the keys harder.”
“So, not a case of wedded bliss, then?” Basil said.
Ginger ran her fingers over the ivory keys, not making a sound. “I dare say, it wasn’t.”
“She had opportunity, but until we find the murder weapon, we don’t have means,” Basil said.
“What of motive?” Ginger asked.
“It wouldn’t be the first time a disgruntled wife killed her husband.”
“Yes, but if spousal frustration were all it took for a murder, then half the married population would be dead by now, I suspect.”
Basil rubbed the back of his neck as he conceded. “And the other half hanged.”
Oliver helped Basil and Ginger get set up for the forthcoming interviews in his office. The room was sparse with an ornate desk and well-used leather chair, and sturdy wooden shelves stocked with books on church history, Bible study manuals, concordances, and other texts used for sermon creation. Ginger knew from previous visits that the arched window in the exterior stone wall looked out on a tall hedge that blocked the view of the neighbours. A small fire burned in the hearth keeping the space warm.
“Mrs. Davies shall bring some tea shortly,” the vicar said. “She and Miss Hanson are just settling the others in the hall.”
“Thank you, Oliver,” Ginger said with a smile. She could only imagine the inner turmoil her friend was suppressing to be civil to them. “That would be lovely. Would you mind if I make a quick telephone call?”
“Not at all.”
“Please ask Mrs. Edwards and Miss Edwards to come in,” Basil said. “Then the ladies shall be free to go.”
Ginger picked up the candlestick telephone, cast a glance at Basil, and then asked the operator to connect her to the Savoy Hotel.
“Please let Captain William Beale know I shall be delayed,” she started, but before the desk clerk could record the message, he informed her that the captain just happened to be walking by. She heard him call William over.
Another quick glance at Basil found him staring at her unabashedly. She turned her back in a vain effort for privacy.
“Yes, hello, William?”
William seemed surprised but pleased with the call. Ginger hadn’t realised just how well the captain’s voice travelled. It came loudly and clearly through the receiver Ginger held to her ear, and she had no doubt Basil could hear everything.
“Is everything fine?” the captain asked.
“Yes, everything is fine,” she said.
“Is the rehearsal over? How did it go?”
“Well, not good. In fact, the reason I’m calling is to let you know that I’ve suffered an unpreventable delay. You might hear about an incident at St. George’s, and I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Oh, dear. What happened?”
“Sadly, a man died under suspicious circumstances. I can’t get into it now. Scotland Yard is here.”
“Superintendent Morris is with you?”
Ginger’s gaze darted to Basil who still had not looked away.
“No, not Morris. It’s Chief Inspector Reed.”
“Oh. He’s back?”
“Yes.”
Ginger had had one glass of red wine too many one evening over dinner and had confided in the captain about her involvement with Basil Reed and how he’d left her in a lurch. William had called Basil a lout and a cad, and even in her slight state of inebriation, Ginger knew she’d made an error of judgment by talking to him. “He’s not so bad,” Ginger had said defensively. “For a cad,” she added lightly, bringing the hoped-for smile to William’s face.
“Nonetheless,” the captain had said. “I hope to never meet the man.”
Ginger could feel the frost of William’s displeasure through the telephone line.
“Do give him my regards,” he said coolly.
“Hmm.”
“Shall I pick you up? I can hire a motorcar?”
“I’ll take a taxicab.”
“Are you sure?”
Ginger was sure William didn’t want her having a lift home with Basil Reed.
“Haley, Felicia, and Louisa are here with me,” she said. “We’ll share.”
“Very well. Am I to assume there’s no wedding this weekend?”
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“Yes. Now, I must go. Bye, William.”
“Bye, darling. Do be careful.”
Ginger returned the receiver, took her seat, and smoothed out her skirt, all without looking Basil in the eye. His relentless staring was unnerving. She finally gave in and looked up.
“Darling?” he said without expression.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Ginger said defensively, “but I’ve been stepping out with a fine gentleman. A captain in the Royal Canadian Navy. A friend of Oliver’s, actually. They met during the war when Oliver was a naval chaplain.” She locked onto Basil’s gaze with a challenging glare. “He knows what he wants.”
Basil returned, “I know what I want.”
“Oh, and what’s that?”
“You.”
Oh, mercy!
Ginger had learned to control her expressions and emotions during her time working on missions with the British Secret Service in the war and hoped she hadn’t got out of practice. She stared unflinchingly at Basil. “It’s too—”
“Chief Inspector Reed, Lady Gold,” Oliver said as he led the two Edwards ladies into his office. “Mrs. Edwards and Miss Edwards to see you.”
Basil’s eyes stayed on Ginger for one heart-thudding moment before he straightened his collar and nodded at Oliver. “Yes, thank you, Reverend.”
Chapter Eight
Mrs. Edwards and Miss Edwards sat facing Basil who was at Oliver’s desk. Ginger remained in the third chair closer to the window. The newly bereaved women held hands in a mutual show of comfort and possibly, Ginger thought, solidarity.
The emotionally stronger of the two, Mrs. Edwards, sat tall, shoulders back, with her wide-brimmed spring hat firmly on her head. She put forth her British stiff upper lip. Catherine’s constitution was of the weaker sort, her bones appearing loose as she collapsed in on herself.
“Miss Edwards and Theo were very close,” Mrs. Edwards explained. “I fear my sister-in-law is unable to bear the trauma. I really should get her home.”
“I understand,” Basil said. “We can postpone this until tomorrow or the next day. Give me your home addresses, and I’ll call on you after you’ve had time to rest.”
“Miss Edwards lives with me,” Mrs. Edwards said after reciting her street and house number. “I’ll be sure to have a pot of tea ready.”
Once the Edwards ladies had left, Basil said, “Since you knew the victim, can you think of any reason someone might want to kill him? Especially here, in the church?”
Ginger had been turning that question over in her head ever since the murder had happened.
“Not off the top of my head,” she said.
“Money? Did he owe money to anyone, was he embezzling from the church?”
“I’m unaware of Mr. Edwards’ business practices, but I’m certain he wasn’t involved professionally with any of the choir members. As for embezzlement, Oliver would’ve confided in me, had he felt concerned. Besides, Mr. Edwards had nothing to do with the church’s accounting.”
“He was a married man, but not happily?”
“No,” Ginger answered. “Despite Mrs. Edwards’ show of grief, I’ve never seen the two of them exchange a civil word.”
“Would you say that Mr. Edwards had been an attractive man?”
“I think many ladies may have found him to be.”
“I see.” Basil referred to his notes. “Would you mind bringing in Miss Bertram and Miss Howard?”
In normal circumstances, Ginger would joke about not being Basil’s secretary, and Basil would tease her about not being necessary to the interview. This time Ginger left without complaint to round up the younger choir members, guiding Miss Bertram in first and asking Miss Howard to wait out in the passageway.
Miss Marjorie Bertram’s fine-boned hands were clasped loosely on her lap, and her slender ankles crossed. Her brunette hair was cut short with fashionable finger waves pinned off an attractive face.
“Miss Bertram, how well did you know Mr. Edwards?” Basil asked.
“He was the choir director. I was in the choir.”
“Did you ever have reason to meet outside of the choir?”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Chief Inspector?”
“Was Mr. Edwards overly friendly with the younger lot?”
Ginger shot Basil a look. He was fishing for motive. The way Miss Bertram started fidgeting with her gloves, Ginger thought Basil might’ve landed on one.
Her mind went to the engagement party and how Mr. Edwards had watched Louisa, and then to the argument she’d witnessed between him and Miss Bertram.
Miss Bertram snorted. “Mr. Edwards wasn’t the sort of man I like.”
“That’s a strange thing to say about a married man,” Basil said.
“Well, Mr. Edwards seemed to forget he was married sometimes.”
“Where were you tonight at ten past six?”
Miss Bertram jutted her chin out defiantly at the question’s inference. “In the ladies.”
Basil jotted something in his notebook. “Who else was in the ladies at that time?”
“I don’t recall.” A flattering crimson spread across Miss Bertram’s pale cheek. “I was rather . . . indisposed.”
“What were you and Mr. Edwards arguing about earlier?” Ginger asked.
Miss Bertram sat up defensively. “What do you mean?”
“I saw you arguing with Mr. Edwards outside. You came into the kitchen later with tears in your eyes.”
“I told you, that was from the onions.”
“Mrs. Davies and Miss Hanson were baking,” Ginger said. “There were no onions out.”
Miss Bertram pursed her lips obstinately.
“Please answer Lady Gold’s question,” Basil said. “Unless you’d like to discuss this down at the station.”
“Fine. Mr. Edwards wanted me to meet him. He’s been hounding me, saying inappropriate things, suggesting we—“ Miss Bertram removed the glove on her left hand and flashed a ring. “I’m engaged. That didn’t deter Mr. Edwards,” she said, her eyes flashing with loathing. “In fact, he threatened to lie to George and ruin my reputation!”
Miss Bertram blinked as she worked to gain control of her emotions.
“You do realise, Miss Bertram,” Basil stated, “that you have just provided motive.”
Marjorie Bertram’s slender jaw dropped open and a tiny “Oh” escaped. Her wide eyes darted from Basil to Ginger.
“I didn’t kill him. I despised him and I’m not sorry he’s dead, but it wasn’t me.”
“Righto,” Basil said. “May I take down your address, in case I need to speak to you again?”
Basil made a note of Miss Bertram’s recitation and then excused her.
Ginger, who’d taken possession of Mrs. Edwards’ seat, shifted the mid-calf-length skirt of her lemon-coloured Moroccan cotton frock. It was trimmed with delightful white embroidery, which matched the trim on her sailboat collar and dropped waist. She crossed her legs, lightly brushing the corner of Oliver’s desk with her white pumps.
Miss Anna Howard tapped on the door before entering. In appearance, she was the opposite of Miss Bertram—short, blonde, and voluptuous. Where Miss Bertram showed little regret over the death of Theo Edwards, Miss Howard’s round eyes were red and glassy with tears. She settled into the empty chair and dabbed her small upturned nose with a white handkerchief.
Basil only cleared his throat but Miss Howard burst into tears before he could ask his first question.
“There, there,” Ginger said, patting Anna Howard on the back.
“You must excuse me. This is all such a shock. It’s inconceivable, really. I simply can’t believe this has happened.”
“How well did you know the deceased?” Basil said.
Miss Howard lifted her quivering chin. “I loved Theo.”
Ginger raised a brow at Miss Howard’s use of Mr. Edwards’ Christian name.
“In what capacity?” she asked gently.
&n
bsp; “In that capacity. He was going to find a way to leave his wife. Such an awful woman, she is.” Fresh tears erupted and ran down Miss Howard’s flushed cheeks. “I wouldn’t have killed him. I would’ve done anything for him!”
Ginger considered herself a thoroughly modern woman, but Miss Howard’s unbridled confession of adultery startled her. Basil sighed like there was nothing new under the sun that he hadn’t already seen.
“Where were you at ten minutes past six or shortly afterwards, Miss Howard?” Basil asked.
Miss Howard patted her face and then stared back at Basil.
“I was in the ladies.”
“Popular place. Did anyone see you?”
“Um, I’m not sure.”
“Did you see anyone?” Basil repeated in case Miss Howard did not get the full significance of the question.
“I-I don’t think so. I don’t remember. I’m so sorry, but this is too difficult for me. Please, may I go home now?”
Basil nodded slowly. “Just give me your address first. I’m certain I’ll need to speak to you again.”
Ginger had been keeping her own notes on the small notepad she carried in her burgundy silk handbag with its silver chain strap, and added Miss Howard’s address to her growing list.
When Miss Howard left the office, Ginger said, “Perhaps Theo Edwards broke the news that he wasn’t going to leave his wife? It’s quite believable that someone with Miss Howard’s temperament could act rashly.”
“It’s a good theory,” Basil admitted. “Miss Bertram confirmed that Mr. Edwards had a perverse appetite and probably had no intention of committing solely to Miss Howard. His lack of marital loyalty gives Mrs. Edwards motive as well.”
Ginger conceded. “It would be humiliating, especially if other people were starting to learn of her husband’s affairs.”
Basil tapped his pencil on the desk. “The ladies seemed to be a bustling place. Very odd that no one can vouch for another.”
“Yes,” Ginger said.
“Would you consider a simple cup of tea an outing?”
