by Lee Strauss
“When was the last time you saw her?” Basil asked.
“Yesterday. She was ’ere as always, looking after the ’orse.”
“The horse? Not horses?”
“The boss had ’er on one ’orse specific.”
“Silver Bullet?” Ginger said.
Fred dug a cigarette out of his pocket. He nodded and lit up.
“Who’s with Silver Bullet now?” Ginger asked. She noted another motorcar in the yard. Not flashy enough to belong to Sabini. A four-door Vauxhall Kington Tourer, last year’s model, splattered with mud like it spent a lot of time on country roads.
Smoke billowed out of Fred’s nostrils. “The vet. Now, why’re yer asking about Miss Ellery?”
Basil glanced at Ginger before making the pronouncement. “I’m afraid it’s bad news, Mr. Roach. Miss Ellery’s body was discovered yesterday.”
Fred blinked slowly as the colour drained from his face. “Dead?”
Basil nodded. “I’m sorry. Is there anything you can tell me about Miss Ellery? Was she close to Charles Sabini? Or a man known as Bugs?”
The emotion that had appeared briefly behind Fred’s eyes disappeared as the man’s expression hardened. “I don’t know nothing. Can’t ’elp ya.”
The watchman was afraid, Ginger thought. He didn’t want to be Sabini’s next victim.
The muscles in Basil’s jaw worked as he stared back at Fred. “Do you mind if we go inside to speak to the veterinarian?” Basil subtly opened his hand to remind Fred of his official police ID. It wasn’t a question. Basil was being polite.
Fred shrugged. “Knock yerself out.”
Basil and Ginger moved to the stable doors beyond where Fred stood in the mud, smoking his cigarette. Basil turned to ask him a final question.
“Mr. Roach, have you or anyone that frequents this stable, bought, sold or indulged in cocaine?”
The right corner of Fred’s mouth lifted again. “Of course not. That would be illegal.”
Ginger and Basil moved inside. Once again, the aroma of horse sweat, manure, and hay assaulted Ginger’s senses. All the stalls had equine occupants this time with some stable boys in attendance.
“He’s lying,” Basil said, looking over his shoulder at the stable doors.
“Clearly.” Ginger paused to stroke the Arabian. “But he did seem sincerely shocked to hear about Miss Ellery’s death.”
One of the stable boys with blond hair poking out from underneath a flat cap looked a lot like Scout Elliot. Thinking about the young waif reminded Ginger that she needed to check in on him soon. She smiled at the stableboy, and to her surprise, he smiled back. Then as if catching himself, he scurried off with his feed bag of oats.
Ginger guided Basil beyond the Arabian to Silver Bullet’s stable. Basil’s expression changed from indifference to awe as he took in the majestic beast.
He whistled. “That’s quite an animal.”
Ginger agreed. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
“I’ve never seen such a shiny coat,” Basil said. “It really does look silver.”
A man with thick grey hair and a matching hedge of a moustache squatted near Silver Bullet’s back legs, his nimble fingers examining the joints. He stood when he saw them, the lines in his rugged skin deepening into a frown.
“Mr. Sabini never mentioned visitors today,” he said. He had a Scottish accent that heavily rolled the “Rs.”
“I’m Chief Inspector Reed from Scotland Yard,” Basil said, “and this is Lady Gold. And you are?”
“Dr. Douglas Selkirk.” His gaze moved to Ginger, and his eyes scanned her with interest. “I can see why a lady might be interested in fine race horses, sir, but I’m stumped as to why the Yard sent you.”
“The body of Miss Jane Ellery was discovered yesterday.”
Ginger carefully watched the veterinarian’s expression. His eyes flickered with emotion. Of loss or guilt, Ginger couldn’t be sure. He stroked his thick moustache. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that. She was a fine lass.”
“How well did you know her?” Basil asked.
“Personally? Not at all. Professionally, our paths have crossed.”
“Who will care for Silver Bullet now?” Ginger asked.
“I suppose I will,” Dr. Selkirk said. “At least for the moment. The bigger question is who will ride Silver Bullet?”
“Miss Ellery was a jockey?” Basil asked, his voice betraying his surprise. “I wasn’t aware that women played the role?”
“They don’t,” the veterinarian said. “On the circuit, she was known as John Ellroy.”
“She impersonated a man?” Basil said, confirming.
“That’s right.”
“Even if she should win, wouldn’t disclosure of her gender trigger a forfeit?”
Dr. Selkirk stroked his moustache, which was thick enough to merit a name. “In most cases,” he muttered, “I suppose so.”
“But Mr. Sabini isn’t ‘most’ cases?”
“You’re a frightfully good detective, Chief Inspector.”
Had Miss Ellery’s deception got her killed, Ginger wondered? “I suppose Mr. Sabini is still keen on winning the Gold Cup,” she added.
Dr. Selkirk nodded. “Indeed, he is.”
Ginger explained the new race to Basil. “It’s to be held at Cheltenham.”
“I understand that drug use to enhance racehorses is a growing problem,” Basil said.
Dr. Selkirk’s lips twitched. “I’ve heard that too.”
“Have you ever administered drugs to Silver Bullet or any other horse in these stables?”
The veterinarian’s lips twitched again. “Of course not. That would be illegal.”
Basil scowled at the parroted line.
Dr. Selkirk led Silver Bullet to a long oval watering trough. “If you don’t mind,” he said stiffly. “I’ve got work to do.”
Basil tipped his hat. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Selkirk.”
“I wonder who will ride Silver Bullet now,” Ginger said as they walked away.
The door to the tack room was open, and Ginger spotted the boy who reminded her of Scout. He was looking out of the door as if he were watching for her. They locked eyes, and with a tilt of his head, the boy motioned for her to come inside.
“Just you, madam,” he said.
Ginger glanced at Basil who had watched the exchange. He nodded, letting her know he’d wait.
“Hello,” Ginger said, once inside. “I’m Lady Gold.”
“I know. I heard you talking yesterday when you was here.”
“And your name?”
“Milroy.”
“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Mr. Milroy?”
The stableboy’s eyes grew red at the edges. “I heard you tell the doc that Miss Ellery is dead.”
“That’s true.”
A tear escaped from the lad’s eye, and he frantically wiped at his eyes with his dirty shirt sleeve.
“Were you friends?” Ginger asked gently.
“Yes, madam.”
“I’m sorry for your loss and that you had to hear about it this way.”
“She was killed, wasn’t she?”
“What makes you say that?”
“The boss man were here yesterday in the mornin’. I heard ‘em fightin’.”
“What were they fighting about?”
Milroy glanced about as if the tack could hear them talking.
Ginger encouraged him on. “You can tell me, Milroy. I want to help.”
Milroy leaned in and lowered his voice. “Miss Ellery didn’t like the needles Doc Selkirk was giving Silver Bullet. She wanted him to stop. The boss said no. That Silver Bullet was his horse, and he could do with him what he liked. And what he liked was to win.”
“Who is the boss man, Milroy?”
“Oh, I can’t say his name, madam. I’ve already said too much.”
“Is he Mr. Sabini?”
Milroy’s eyes darkened with fear. He pushed past her to the d
oor and thrust it open. A surprised Basil jumped out of the way.
“You were listening?” Ginger said.
Basil shrugged. “Trying to.”
“The lad is frightened to death.”
“You can recount the details to me on the way back to the mortuary.”
The ride back went quickly as Ginger and Basil had moved professionally beyond their personal wounds to the case at hand.
“This has Sabini’s signature all over it,” Basil said.
“Do you think he’s responsible for the shootings?”
“Not personally. Sabini wouldn’t get his own hands dirty.”
“So, someone shoots the victims, and another preps the cadavers,” Ginger said. “Dr. Selkirk?”
“He has the medical knowledge,” Basil said. “I’ll get someone to investigate his office.”
“Another person or persons transports them to the mortuary, usually along with legitimate cadavers,” Ginger said, mentally making a list of all the people it took to pull off this crime. “Which means someone making the delivery is working for Sabini as well.”
Basil agreed. “I already have men looking into all the known drivers.”
“And then someone at the mortuary is overlooking the empty registration envelopes.”
“Dr. Brennan or Dr. Gupta,” Basil said.
“Or if someone was producing false papers after the fact, it could be Miss Hanson or the caretaker.”
Basil looked at her. “I thought you weren’t considering Miss Hanson as a suspect.”
“I don’t want to,” Ginger said, “but until we’ve proven otherwise, it behoves me to leave her on the list.”
“We haven’t found evidence of forged documents,” Basil said.
“That’s because Haley intercepted the body of Angus Green before the guilty party could complete the transaction. The identity of each cadaver is disclosed to the medical students after their research on the subject is complete. Someone had to be providing false identification papers to keep suspicion at bay.”
Basil stared at her. “If your theory is correct, there could be more murder victims than these three.”
“Time to review your missing persons’ lists, I reckon,” Ginger said.
Haley was waiting for them when they arrived at the mortuary. “I have the autopsy report ready,” she said without preamble. “The victim was killed approximately twenty-six hours ago. Like the others, there is soil under the nails from Saffron Stables. Also, cocaine powder.”
Ginger and Basil shared a look. Another link connecting the docks to the stables.
“But no narcotics in her system,” Haley continued. “The toxicology reports came back clean. No horsehair found anywhere. Miss Ellery’s hair was short and clean, so any evidence there was washed away when the body was cleansed.”
“Cause of death?” Basil asked for the sake of form.
Haley confirmed. “A bullet to the brain. Death was instantaneous.”
“Same as the others,” Basil said.
“Yes, but there are differences. In this case, the bullet was lodged in the back of the skull.” Haley displayed the lead bullet with a pair of tongs. “Unlike the others, it’s a .41 short cartridge. American. Quite uncommon around these parts. I’ve seen these bullets before.”
Ginger frowned. She’d seen them too.
“What do you mean?” Basil asked.
Haley’s gaze locked on Ginger. “Honey, I believe it’s from your gun.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Fred must’ve nicked it.” Ginger’s surprised look moved from Haley to Basil. “He bumped into me when Haley and I were leaving Saffron Stables.”
Ginger fished through her handbag and shock registered across her face when her fingers touched the Remington. “It’s still here.” She removed the small silver-plated pistol, held it in front of her face with gloved hands, and sniffed the nozzle. “It’s been fired recently.” She checked the barrel. “There’s a bullet missing.”
“If Fred took your pistol,” Haley said, “how did it get back into your handbag?”
“He must’ve passed it on to whoever is working for them here.” Ginger felt violated and exasperated. She pointed to a small desk by the telephone. “I usually leave my handbag and my coat on the chair when I’m here.” Not an intelligent move, in retrospect, Ginger thought, but she always kept an eye on it. It hadn’t occurred to her that her belongings were in danger on school property, especially in the mortuary. It wasn’t exactly a busy place.
Haley stared at Ginger’s handbag. “Anyone who’s been in the mortuary when you’ve been here could’ve replaced it.”
Dr. Brennan, Dr. Gupta. Miss Hanson. Frank Morgan.
Basil considered the possibility too. “Whoever it was took the risk that you’d return to the mortuary, for him or her to gain the opportunity to replace the pistol.”
“But why?” Ginger asked.
“It could be as simple as to throw the Yard off the scent,” Basil said. “It could be Sabini’s way of warning you—me—to lay off.” He removed a paper evidence bag from his pocket and held it out.
Ginger whined. “Not my Remi.”
Basil stared at her sternly and shook the bag. “Drop it.”
Ginger dropped the Remington inside. “I’ll have it checked for fingerprints,” he said.
“Doesn’t look good for you, Ginger,” Haley said soberly.
Ginger propped a hand on her hip. “You can’t be serious.”
Haley’s lips pulled up into a mischievous grin. “Of course not.”
“I am,” Basil said. “This is a dire situation.”
Ginger drew back. “Are you going to arrest me?”
Basil huffed. “No. I mean, you could be in grave danger. Whoever has been killing these people has involved you.” His hazel eyes narrowed with concern. “This is the Italian mafia we’re talking about, Ginger. It’s serious.”
Ginger shook her head. “I just can’t believe Sabini would’ve killed his star jockey.”
“Jockey?” Haley said.
“Yes,” Ginger said. “She was impersonating a man.”
Haley’s gaze moved between Ginger and the chief inspector. “She wouldn’t have been riding for too much longer, anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Basil asked.
“Miss Ellery was expecting.”
“A baby?” Basil stated, obviously needing clarity.
Haley confirmed it. “Yes.”
“That’s motive,” Ginger said. “He gets rid of her because she’s become a double liability, she doesn’t want to drug Silver Bullet, and she can no longer ride as John Ellery.”
Haley trumpeted her lips. “They were drugging the horses?”
Ginger relayed her encounter with young Milroy. “He says Miss Ellery and Sabini had a heated argument over Silver Bullet. I believe Sabini wanted her to inject cocaine to enhance the horse’s performance.”
“He really wants to win that Gold Cup,” Haley said.
“Exactly.”
Haley tidied up the lab and collected her coat.
“I’ll take you both home,” Basil said.
Ginger lifted her chin. “But I have my Crossley here.”
“I want to make sure you get home safely. Until we solve this case, we need to be extra vigilant. I’ll get my men to deliver your motorcar to Hartigan House in the morning.”
“He’s right,” Haley said.
Ginger was grateful to have her friend along for the journey home. If Haley noticed the tension between Ginger and Basil, she covered it well by initiating small talk along the way. Ginger’s relief to be finally turning into Mallowan Court was short-lived.
“The police?” Ginger said, pointing to an open-air motorcar. The driver wore a tell-tale police officer’s helmet.
Ginger’s heart jumped as her imagination went to all the worst places. Had they been robbed? Had Sabini sent another “message?”
The headlamps of Basil’s motorcar lit the scene
ahead. A constable opened the door to the back seat and helped out the passenger.
Felicia!
Ginger hurried out of the motorcar and raced down the pavement. “Officer, what’s going on?”
“We were called to the North Star Club. Miss Gold was causing a disturbance.”
Oh, mercy. The North Star Club was a cabaret known for its burlesque dancers.
Felicia jerked her arm out of the policeman’s grasp. “Let meeee go, you big thug!”
Ginger stared into her sister-in-law’s blurry-red eyes. “Felicia, are you drunk?”
“Are you all right here?” Basil asked. “Do you need assistance?”
Ginger and Haley each took one of Felicia’s arms. “We’re fine, Chief Inspector,” Ginger said, hoping that the humiliation she felt didn’t show on her face. “Thanks again for the lift home.”
Pippins opened the door and helped them inside. His face remained stoic, ever professional. He assisted them out of their coats. “Do you need me for anything else, madam?”
“Thank you, Pips,” Ginger said softly, “but I think Miss Higgins and I can manage.”
Ginger and Haley wrestled with Felicia up the long staircase.
“Leeeve me alone,” Felicia mumbled as she tried to twist out of their grips.
“Shh,” Ginger said. “You’ll wake Ambrosia.”
Felicia whimpered, “Mustn’t disappoint Grandmama.”
Ginger shared a look with Haley and shook her head.
“Let’s get you to bed, love,” Ginger said. “You’re going to feel terrible in the morning.”
“I feeeeel terrrrible now.”
“Not so loud, bunny,” Haley said with affection.
“What on earth is going on?” Ambrosia stood at the top of the stairs like an intimidating general.
“Oh, oh,” Felicia said before falling into a fit of giggles. “Caught!”
“Is she drunk?” Ambrosia said.
Ginger and Haley shifted Felicia past the family matron towards the bedrooms. “She might’ve had a little too much,” Ginger said. “Nothing a few hours’ sleep won’t cure.”
“Good Lord,” Ambrosia’s face flushed with mortification. “I hope no one noticed.”
Ginger didn’t see the need to mention the police escort. “Why don’t you go back to bed, Grandmother,” Ginger said. “Felicia’s safe. That’s what matters. Haley and I will put her to bed.”
