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

by Lee Strauss

  As she was driving down Mallowan Court, who drove up beside her than Alfred Schofield himself! He pulled to a stop in front of his grandmother’s house. Instead of turning into the alley to access her garage, she parked in front of Alfred Schofield and hopped out of the Daimler.

  “Lieutenant Schofield! Alfred!”

  “Oh, hello there.”

  Ginger stepped up to Alfred with Boss on her heels. “How are you, after last night’s horrid business?”

  “Holding up. Terrible thing for you, though, I reckon. What a way to ruin a party!”

  “Things certainly took a turn I hadn’t anticipated.”

  Alfred stuffed his hands into his coat pocket and rolled on his heels. “Quite the beastly affair.”

  “Did you know Lord Turnbull?”

  “Not well. We played the same tables on occasion.”

  “Gambling?” Ginger asked.

  “Gentlemen’s poker. Nothing underhanded.”

  “Lord Turnbull seemed like a very charming man to me.”

  Alfred chortled. “Yes indeed. He fooled people all the time with his charisma. I’ve never met a man so skilled at manipulating people. ”

  “Especially women, I gather?” Ginger said.

  Nodding soberly, Alfred said, “Nasty fellow.”

  “That must be why Mrs. Fox didn’t appear very upset by his sudden death.”

  Alfred considered her warily. “It was the shock.”

  “Are you acquainted with Mrs. Fox?” Ginger asked carefully. “I mean before last night’s affair.”

  “We’ve met. Now if you don’t mind, my grandmother is expecting me.”

  “Lieutenant Schofield, did you kill Lord Turnbull?”

  Alfred Schofield’s eyes flashed with fury. “It’s true, I wanted to kill him, but I didn’t. Someone got to him before I could.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ginger returned to the Daimler and breezed past Basil just as he parked in front of Hartigan House. She wiggled her fingers and smiled before turning down the alley to her garage.

  By the time she entered through the rear of the house, Pippins had answered the front door and left the inspector waiting in the sitting room.

  “Hello, Basil,” Ginger said upon entering.

  Basil stood when he saw her. “Good day, Ginger. I hope I haven’t come at an inconvenient time?”

  “Not at all.” Ginger pulled off her gloves. “I was just out running a few errands.”

  “With Alfred Schofield?”

  “You saw that, did you?” Ginger was thinking of a way to relay her news to Basil without admitting to following Harriet, when Boss provided a diversion. He trotted over to Basil and sniffed his leg, causing the inspector to take a nervous step back.

  “Have you had a bad experience with a dog before, Inspector?”

  “I was bitten as a child and swore off dogs ever since.”

  “That really is a shame.” Ginger approached Boss who continued to linger near Basil’s feet. She crouched down and swooped him into her arms. “Boss is a very friendly dog. He’s never bitten anyone, ever. Why don’t you give him a little pat?”

  Basil watched Ginger intensely. His gaze moved from her face to the dog and back. He slowly held his hand out palm down. “You’re sure he won’t bite.”

  “Absolutely positive.”

  Boss sniffed Basil’s hand then gave it a quick lick.

  “He kissed you!” Ginger, said, laughing. “See, nothing to worry about.”

  Basil actually smiled and moved his hand to the top of the dog’s head, and patted awkwardly.

  “He loves to be scratched behind the ears,” Ginger said, moving her fingers to Boss’s left ear. Basil stretched out his fingers to the right.

  “Oh Bossy,” she cooed. “What have you done to deserve all this affection?” She stroked the dog’s back and then reached once again for his ear. However, Basil had switched ears, and her hand landed on top of Basil’s. They both stilled then stepped back sharply.

  “That’s enough attention for you, Boss,” Ginger said quickly, setting the animal back on the carpet. To her dismay, her heart stammered in her chest.

  Basil cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “Is your staff available for questioning?” His voice cracked and he coughed in his hand to cover it up. Ginger politely ignored it.

  “Yes. They knew you’d be coming. Shall I send them in? Or would you like to use my study again?”

  “Here will do, Lady Gold.”

  Ginger sent in the first person she saw. “Lizzie, the inspector is here to speak to the staff, can you organize it for me, one of you at a time?”

  Lizzie bobbed. “Yes, madam. I’ll go myself, then call on the others.”

  “Fabulous. Where are Miss Felicia and the Dowager Lady Gold?”

  “They’re packing, madam.”

  “Packing?”

  “Yes, madam. The Dowager Lady Gold says she’s had enough of the big city and wants to go back to Hertfordshire immediately.”

  “I see. Thank you, Lizzie. You may report to the inspector now. He’s in the sitting room.”

  Ginger found Felicia in her room in tears.

  “Felicia, darling,” Ginger said.

  “I don’t know why I’m crying. We’ve stayed longer than we initially planned to as it is. And though I found the events of last night perfectly screaming, they simply wore Grandmama’s nerves to a thread. She’s demanding we leave on the next train.”

  “It does feel sudden, but it’s not like we’ll never see each other again. I promise to visit you before I go back to Boston.”

  Felicia wiped her damp cheeks with a lace handkerchief. “That does bring me some consolation.”

  “Do you need help packing? I can send Lizzie up?” Then she remembered the staff interviews. “Or Grace.”

  “I’d rather do it myself. I’m not used to having other people take care of my intimate matters. Besides, I need to keep my hands busy or I’m sure to fall into despair.”

  “Is Grandmother packing for herself too?”

  “Oh, gosh no. She got Lizzie do that for her first thing. I think she’s just stewing, waiting for me to finish.”

  Ginger decided to leave Ambrosia alone for the moment and shut herself and Boss in her room. Her mind kept leaping back to the accidental touch of Basil’s hand and the electricity that sizzled through her. She picked up the photo of Daniel and apologised.

  “I’m sorry, love. It’s you that I miss. The warmth of his hand reminded me of what I no longer have. I’m still devoted to you.” She planted a kiss on the glass then wiped the remnant of her lipstick with a handkerchief.

  Ginger studied her reflection in the mirror and reapplied her light makeup. Feeling put back together she ventured out.

  Mrs. Thornton waddled out of the sitting room in a huff. “The man treats me like a common criminal!”

  Ginger held in a smile. She knocked softly before peeking inside. “All clear?”

  “Mrs. Thornton just left,” Basil said. “I’m afraid I didn’t make a very good impression. Only Mr. Pippins left to go.”

  “Can I ask you a quick question?” Ginger said. “I’d like to inform the press about Lord Turnbull’s death before it gets out another way.”

  “Righto. It’s best to control the angle as much as possible. I was going to call them myself once I had finished here.”

  “Do you mind if I do it?”

  “Do you have someone in mind?”

  “Blake Brown, at the Daily News.”

  “Oh? Why Brown?”

  “I owe him a favour.”

  Pippins knocked on the door and stepped in. “Excuse me.” He made to leave, but Basil called him back. Then he turned to Ginger and said, “Go ahead and ring your man.”

  Ginger dialled the number Blake Brown had given her and asked Miss Taylor to connect her to Blake Brown.

  “Lady Gold!” he bellowed over the background noise. “So soon?”

  “I got the re
lease to share my news a little earlier than I’d anticipated.”

  “Capital. Let’s hear it.”

  Ginger relayed a shortened version of the events of the evening before and Lord Turnbull’s sudden death.”

  Blake Brown whistled. “Consider Mr. Hartigan’s file buried!”

  “Thank you, Mr. Brown.”

  “Thank you, Lady Gold.” Brown hung up and Ginger could imagine him racing back to his typewriter. He probably had time to get the story into the Daily News morning edition.

  Ginger wondered if Basil would wait around to say goodbye or if he’d just leave when he finished with Pippins. She found him waiting.

  “How did it go?” she asked, making sure to keep a polite distance between them.

  “Fairly straightforward. Tell me, how well do you know your staff, Ginger?”

  “I only met Lizzie on my arrival, and Grace is new as of yesterday, so I don’t know them at all really. Mrs. Thornton’s just newly returned to Hartigan House, but she did work here years ago. Pippins has been around for as long as I can remember. He was on loan to my father’s cousin, while the house was shut.”

  “On loan?”

  “Oh yes. Cousin Enid Hartigan was in need of a butler right around the time my father decided to close up. Very fortuitous for us all.”

  “Mr. Pippins left her to come back to you?”

  “Sadly, cousin Enid recently passed away.”

  Basil squinted and Ginger could see his mind trying to process the coincidence. “It’s all perfectly upright, Inspector. I trust Pippins with my life.”

  Before she could say more the door chimed. Ambrosia’s voice bellowed up the stairwell, “Felicia! The taxi is here!”

  Ginger rushed to see Ambrosia and Felicia off. “Pippins, do ask the taxi driver to help with Miss Felicia’s and the Dowager Lady Gold’s luggage. Be sure to tell him there will be an extra tip for his efforts.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “I’m sorry for the short notice, dear,” Ambrosia said, “but I simply can’t take any more excitement.”

  Ginger nodded with a look of understanding. “It has been uncommonly eventful.”

  Felicia stood beside the matronly woman with a forlorn look on her face. “I’m going to miss you, Ginger.”

  “Chin up, darling,” Ginger said. “We’ll see each other again soon.”

  “Can I be of assistance,” Basil said as he watched the butler and taxi driver haul suitcases down the stairs.

  “I believe, that is the last of it,” Ginger said. “Otherwise, we’d have to call a second taxi just for the luggage!”

  Basil placed his hat on his head. “I’ll be out of your way then.”

  Ginger was about to say goodbye when Lizzie came rushing in. “Telephone call for the inspector, madam.”

  Basil raised a brow and removed his hat. “Excuse me.”

  Ginger hugged and kissed her in-laws good-bye. “It was so good to see you both again.”

  “It was much too long,” Ambrosia said. “I do hope you decide to stay in London. You are family.”

  Ginger smiled but said nothing. She had family in Boston too. Her stepmother and half-sister. Which reminded her, she needed to write a letter to Louisa soon.

  She walked with them to the gate and waved them off. “Safe travels! Ring me when you get there!”

  The atmosphere inside the house was oddly still. With Ambrosia and Felicia gone and Haley at her classes, the place felt empty. Ginger thought of what she should do next. Her stomach growled reminding her that it was almost noon. She would see if Mrs. Thornton had cooked up anything for lunch.

  She ran into Basil in the hall and jumped. She’d forgotten about the telephone call.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “It was the Yard. They’ve found Andrew Bailey.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ginger helped herself into the passenger seat of Basil Reed’s motorcar. In a split second his look of surprise morphed to indignation then to resignation.

  “I’m not sure why I’m allowing this,” he muttered as he made a U-turn on Mallowan Court.

  “Because I bring you luck!” Ginger said brightly. “Or if not luck, fresh eyes and objectivity.”

  Basil Reed grunted.

  An officer guarded the door to the interrogation room where Andrew Bailey waited.

  Lord Turnbull’s valet wore the same serving uniform as before, but now his trousers were streaked with dirt and grime, his shirt wrinkled, and the seam of one shoulder of his jacket had split. He sat, shoulders slumped, scratching his knuckles nervously.

  When Basil and Ginger entered, Andrew Bailey startled. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and patted beads of sweat off his forehead.

  “Mr. Bailey,” Basil said, “I’m Chief Inspector Reed. I believe you are acquainted with Lady Gold.”

  Basil pulled out the first chair for Ginger and then took the seat beside her. Constable Newman stood guard by the door.

  Basil cleared his throat before beginning. “Mr. Bailey. You defied direct instructions to remain at Hartigan House until everyone had a chance to make a statement. Why?”

  “I-I-I don’t rightly know, sir. I just panicked.”

  “Panicked? Are you guilty of something?”

  Bailey swallowed and turned his thick neck.

  “Out loud for the record, Mr. Bailey.”

  “N-no?”

  “Did you kill Lord Turnbull?”

  “No! Why would I do that? Now I’m out of a bloody job.”

  “Why did you leave my father to work for Lord Turnbull?” Ginger asked.

  “He left me, madam, for Boston and his new American wife. He asked if I wanted to join him, but I declined. I’m not much of an adventurer. He knew he was shutting up Hartigan House and released me with references. When Lord Turnbull got wind of the news, he recruited me straightaway.”

  “Did you kill Eunice Hathaway, Mr. Bailey?” Basil asked.

  Unlike his immediate response to the same question about Lord Turnbull, Bailey hesitated.

  “Mr. Bailey, please answer the question.”

  “I didn’t kill the young woman.”

  “Do you know who did?”

  Andrew Bailey sighed. “I suppose there’s no point in staying silent any longer. Lord Turnbull killed Miss Hathaway.”

  Ginger and Basil shared a look. Was this the truth, or was Bailey using Lord Turnbull as a scapegoat?

  “What was the method of her death?” Basil asked. The Yard had yet to release cause of death to the press.

  “He strangled her with his own two hands,” Bailey said, then provided the motive. “Miss Hathaway was young and beautiful and used her charms to entice wealthy men. Lord Turnbull was easily snared by wily females. Before long he was buying her clothes and jewellery and walking out with her, despite the fact that he was newly widowed.

  “Lord Turnbull claimed that Miss Hathaway was never satisfied, always wanting more. I’ve come to see that Lord Turnbull’s relationships with these kinds of women since then were always short-lived. From what I’ve witnessed, his girls would weep and wail but leave on his demand. Apparently Miss Hathaway had been different. She refused to go—she wasn’t about to be intimidated, she said. It’s my belief that she had information she was holding over his lordship’s head.”

  “She was blackmailing him?” Basil said.

  “It would appear so. According to Lord Turnbull—he tended to confide his intimacies after a couple of drinks—she had demanded that his lordship announce their engagement. She said she didn’t care if he loved her.”

  “She wanted the title,” Ginger said. “That would’ve definitely given her more social standing and respect.

  “Miss Hathaway had underestimated Lord Turnbull’s wrath,” Bailey said. “I don’t know what triggered it the night of Mr. Hartigan’s soirée, but the … incident happened at Lord Turnbull’s London townhouse.

  “How did Miss Hathaway’s body end up in
your room at Hartigan House?” Basil asked.

  Andrew Bailey let out another woeful sigh. “The night of the soirée was my last day with Mr. Hartigan. I was due to relocate to Lord Turnbull’s residence the next morning. When I arrived, he tasked me with getting rid of the body.” Bailey’s eyes darkened with the memory. “I was stunned, and I started to refuse, but Lord Turnbull anticipated I’d say no, told me if I didn’t help him, he’d make sure my younger brother disappeared.

  “I said I didn’t have the slightest idea how to get rid of a body. Lord Turnbull laughed, quite hysterically, you see, and then I knew the man was out of his head. He slapped his thigh and said I was to deposit the body in my room at Hartigan House and that he was sure Mr. Hartigan wouldn’t mind.

  “When I asked him how I was to transport the body, he said to use Mr. Hartigan’s Daimler. I told him I didn’t want to do that, knowing it would be bad for Mr. Hartigan.”

  Ginger bristled with indignation. “What did Lord Turnbull say to that?”

  “He said, ‘Your brother’s name is James, correct?’”

  Poor Andrew Bailey had done this terrible deed under duress, implicating himself and forever putting himself in the vice grip of his employer.

  “We waited—with poor Miss Hathaway’s body deposited in the bathtub—until we were sure Hartigan House was shut up and empty.

  “I was just about to lift Miss Hathaway’s body out of the bathtub when Lord Turnbull jumped up from his chair, nearly spilling his Blue Marlin. ‘My ring!’ he shouted. When the big bauble refused to budge over the knuckle, it was starting to swell, you see …” Bailey swallowed. “He broke the finger.”

  Ginger winced at the image.

  Bailey continued, “I took the body back to Hartigan House—I’d gone for the Daimler earlier—and laid it out on the floor of my old room. I parked the Daimler inside and returned the keys to the hook in the kitchen where I’d found them.”

  “How did you get in the house?” Ginger asked.

  “There’s a loose window in the cellar. It opens if you jiggle it just so.”