Ginger Gold Mystery Box Set 4

  The Ginger Gold Mysteries Books 8 & 9

  MURDER ABOARD THE FLYING SCOTSMAN

  MURDER AT THE BOAT CLUB

  Praise for Ginger Gold

  “Clever and entertaining, you’ll love this charming Golden Age mystery series. And the fashion is to die for!” - Molly C. Quinn, actress, Castle

  “Another deftly crafted mystery by the master of the genre…” Midwest Book Review

  “I rank Lee Strauss as the best living cozy mystery writer. Her characters are believable but interesting, her stories are fun to follow and her use of language is superb. She makes the 1920s come alive in my imagination. I constantly read cozies and Lee’s Lady Gold Mysteries are the very best.” - LoriLynn, Amazon reviewer

  Ginger Gold Mysteries

  (in order)

  Murder on the SS Rosa

  Murder at Hartigan House

  Murder at Bray Manor

  Murder at Feathers & Flair

  Murder at the Mortuary

  Murder at Kensington Gardens

  Murder at St. George’s Church

  Murder Aboard the Flying Scotsman

  Murder at the Boat Club

  Murder at Eaton Square

  Murder by Plum Pudding

  Murder on Fleet Street

  Murder at Brighton Beach

  Summary

  Please note: British spelling is used in this book.

  Mayhem All Aboard!

  One blustery day in October of 1924, newlyweds Mr. and Mrs. Basil Reed travel aboard the recently christened Flying Scotsman, a high-speed steam train that travels from London to Edinburgh, for their honeymoon. With only one short stop at York, Ginger anticipates time with her new husband will fly by.

  She’s wrong. Something terrible has happened in the Royal Mail carriage, which forces the train to stop dead in its tracks. There’s been a death and Chief Inspector Reed has been asked to investigate.

  It’s a uniquely disturbing murder and Ginger and Basil are eager to puzzle it out together. What do the first class passengers have to do with the dead man? With another crime shortly discovered, Ginger and Basil soon realise they’re not dealing with a run-of-the-mill killer—they’re dealing with a mastermind who’s not done playing with them yet.

  * * *

  This book has been edited and proofed, but typos are like little gremlins that like to sneak in when we’re not looking. If you spot a typo, please report it to: admin@laplumepress.com

  Chapter One

  “I feel like a gooseberry,” Felicia Gold whimpered. “How daft of me to join you on your wedding journey.”

  “You and many others,” Ginger returned with a smile.

  Seated aboard the Flying Scotsman, England’s fastest train, opposite her former sister-in-law, Felicia shifted her weight and crossed her legs. “I could move to another compartment. Or even another carriage. I don’t mind second class.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Ginger said. She turned to the handsome gentleman who sat as close as he could. “Basil and I love having you, don’t we, darling?”

  Basil Reed’s hazel eyes twinkled as he gazed into his new bride’s beaming face. “Of course.”

  “Your gushing happiness is starting to make me feel sickly,” Felicia said. “At least you’ll only have to put up with me half of the way.”

  Ginger stroked the small Boston terrier curled on her lap. Boss, short for Boston, had been a gift from her father after the Great War. She’d returned to their Beacon Hill home from France without her late husband, Lord Daniel Gold, who had perished in battle. Boss snored softly and was quite unperturbed by the foreign surroundings on board the train.

  Smiling at Felicia, Ginger asked, “Is Miss Dansby meeting you at York station?”

  “Yes,” Felicia answered. “And her fiancé, Mr. George Pierce. I’m very curious to meet him. Irene describes him in her letters like he’s a god. Not a physical blemish or character flaw to be found.”

  Ginger laughed. “Must be love!” She patted Basil’s arm.

  Basil raised Ginger’s hand and kissed it. “You are perfection itself, Mrs. Reed.”

  “Please stop!” Felicia moaned. “Or I just might have to throw myself out the window.”

  “If you must, please do so before the train starts moving,” Basil said wryly.

  Through the glass compartment door, Ginger caught sight of an elderly lady dressed in black apparel. Assisted by a stick-thin porter, she entered the carriage. She appeared trapped in the nineteenth century with her tight-fitting coat, her long, heavy skirt, and a boat of a hat pinned to white hair that was piled into a bun on the top of her head. Her face was concealed by a thick black veil.

  Despite using a cane to assist her slow, stilted gait, the lady stood upright and was most obviously wearing a corset. Ginger had a fleeting thought of Ambrosia, Daniel’s grandmother and Ginger’s house companion. Had she not had the influence of the younger set in her life, Ambrosia would undoubtedly have continued to resemble this latest passenger. Unfortunately, Ambrosia’s new liberties didn’t make her any happier, and the perpetual scowl and overall distrust of “this wayward generation” remained.

  The lady nodded at the empty upholstered seat beside Felicia and said in a rather husky voice to the lad assisting her, “This is far enough.”

  When the porter opened the door, she said to Felicia, “You don’t mind, do you? I’d rather not walk more than necessary, and my seat is in the last compartment down the corridor.”

  Basil answered for them all. “You’re welcome to join us.”

  The porter assisted the lady into the plush seat. “Such lovely polished teak and brass! And these velvet chairs are simply marvellous,” she said. “Thank goodness someone had the brains to make the backs high enough to support one’s neck. I’ll warn you good people in advance; I might embarrass myself by falling asleep. At my age, one tends to nod off without intending to.”

  The whistle blew, and the green carriages of the Flying Scotsman slowly and laboriously inched forwards. Loud rhythmic clanking came from the steel wheels. Gears screeched in response. With each rotation, motion increased in speed. White plumes of steam gushed past the windows and blocked their view of King’s Cross Station.

  “I’m needed in Edinburgh, for a funeral,” their new companion offered.

  “I’m sorry,” Ginger said. “Is it someone close?”

  “No. I barely knew him. I just like going to funerals. I know it sounds morbid, but I do have a fascination with death. It’s my age, you see.”

  Ginger shared a stunned look with Felicia. The lady was quite forthright and clearly dressed as one in mourning.

  “I was at the hanging of Susan Newell, a year ago today,” the elderly lady continued. “What a spectacle that was! The first woman to hang in Scotland in fifty years. She refused the white hood. Her eyes nearly . . .” She opened her gloved hand by her eye and mimicked an explosion. “It wasn’t pretty, let me tell you.”

  Oh, mercy. Ginger had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “A funeral should prove to be rather boring after that.”

  “Oh no. It’s a double funeral. The man was murdered. By his wife. Then she took her own life. A big family scandal with a bundle of money involved. When I read about it in the paper, I knew I had to go.”

  Felicia’s eyes widened with incredulity.

  “Do forgive my rudeness,” the lady said. “I’m Mrs. Simms.”

  “I’m L—” Ginger stopped herself in time. She’d almost introduced herself as Lady Gold, a title she’d given up when she’d married Basil. “I’m Mrs. Reed. This is my husband Chief Inspector Reed, and my sister-in-law, Miss Gold.”

  Mrs. Simms turned her head sharply towards Basil.
br />   “Are the two of you acquainted?” Ginger asked looking between them.

  “No, no. I do apologise for staring,” Mrs. Simms replied, tilting her veiled head towards Ginger. “Sometimes my mind goes blank, goes on a bit of a holiday. The lament of old age.” Frowning at Basil she added, “A police officer you say?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “What takes you to Edinburgh, Chief Inspector? A case for Scotland Yard, I presume?”

  Basil patted Ginger’s gloved hand. “My wife and I are on our honeymoon.”

  “Oh, how marvellous. Congratulations,” Mrs. Simms said, beaming. “I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time. The highlands are splendid in the autumn season.”

  “I was there as a child,” Ginger said, “but it’s exciting to take the Flying Scotsman.”

  “Shaves off two hours,” Mrs. Simms offered. “Such a difference, especially at my age. And I love travelling on something so new.” She inhaled deeply. “Still smells like fresh paint and new fabric. It’s yet to be blighted with bad experiences like death and derailment. Or a robbery. You might be too young to remember, but the world’s first train robbery happened in England.”

  “You’re referring to the Great Gold Robbery of 1855,” Basil said.

  “Yes, indeed. It was quite a sensation. I was a youngster at the time and impressionable. My village talked about little else for months.”

  Mrs. Simms didn’t, as Ginger was beginning to fear, talk their ears off and had, in fact, fallen asleep as she’d predicted. Felicia lost herself in a mystery novel. Boss, a terrific sleeper as well, jerked on occasion. The result of some adventurous dream, Ginger thought with a grin. She was content to lean into Basil and watch the scenery.

  Presently, the conductor stepped into the carriage and announced loudly, “First sitting for lunch.”

  Felicia put her book down. “I’d like to dine. I’m feeling rather peckish.”

  Ginger took a moment to examine her reflection in the window, patted her red bob, and reinforced the curled tips that rested below high cheekbones.

  Mrs. Simms’ head bobbed up. Ginger could barely make out her eyes behind the black veil except to notice that they had opened.

  “What’s happening?” Mrs. Simms’ voice was pitched so low that Ginger thought to offer her a glass of water.

  “It’s first sitting for lunch,” Ginger explained. “Would you care to join us?”

  “I was having the most interesting dream. A dismembered body was floating alongside the train.” She turned towards the window as if she expected to see such a gruesome sight and then ducked her chin. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d rather fall back to sleep.”

  In the dining car, Felicia confessed, “This will sound snooty, but I’m glad Mrs. Simms didn’t join us. I dare say, her mind is frightfully alarming.”

  Chapter Two

  The dining carriage was located to the rear of first class, and for the most part, was for the benefit of the first-class customers. Second- and third-class passengers tended to bring a packed lunch.

  The menu was slight but what was offered was tempting. Ginger ordered grilled salmon on toast with fruit juice and coffee whilst Basil and Felicia chose beef and mushroom pie along with pots of tea.

  The pastoral view beyond the window breezed by at an impressive speed. Flocks of sheep dotted drying pastures, cattle roamed with large bells hanging from thick necks, and horses pulled farm equipment readying fields for winter.

  The tea and coffee were served immediately, and Ginger removed her elbow-length, white satin gloves and placed them neatly to the side.

  Felicia did the same. “How fast do you think we are going?” she asked.

  “Close to a hundred miles an hour,” Ginger answered. “There’s an outstanding exhibit about the Flying Scotsman at the British Empire Exhibition.”

  “That’s frightfully fast,” Felicia said. She adjusted her felt cloche hat as if the wind outside had caused the floral display pinned over her right ear to shift out of place.

  Ginger pointed to a structure along the rails as they approached one of the many villages on route. A ladder was attached to a small platform about six feet tall. On it were a couple of posts with foreign items hanging from them. “What is that?”

  “That’s for picking up and dropping off the post,” Basil said. “See the leather bags attached to that wooden platform and pole apparatus? The mail is secured inside. In seconds, bags left hanging from the postage carriage are dispatched into that wide netting you see on this side of the platform. Moments later, the train scoops up the bags hanging on the apparatus, which land in the post office van.”

  “How efficient,” Ginger said as she watched the exchange.

  Basil agreed. “Surprisingly so.”

  “Good old Royal Mail!” Felicia said.

  Their food arrived, and Ginger covered her lap with a cotton napkin. She didn’t want to risk staining her Paul Poiret silk frock. She was quite aware that the emerald green with the gold embroidered design emphasised the green of her eyes and the gold highlights in her red hair. Basil had declared the dress a favourite of his, and Ginger thought it fitting to wear on the first day of their wedding journey.

  An attractive couple entered the dining car. She, blonde and stylish with a salon-created Marcelled bob, wore a lovely day frock. A noticeable yet lovely mole rested on the corner of her lips. He was dressed in a pinstripe, well-pressed suit and what appeared to be Italian leather shoes. The lady hung possessively to the gentleman’s arm, but her eyes didn’t bespeak of romantic love, instead, they seemed serious and nervous.

  “Irene?” Felicia said.

  Shock crossed the lady’s face before morphing into a bright, inviting smile. “Felicia! Darling!” She took the few steps down the narrow aisle and Felicia shifted out of the booth. They embraced and shared kisses on the cheeks.

  “What are you doing on this train?” Felicia said. “You’re meant to greet me in York when I arrive.”

  “Was that today?” Irene said, mascara-laden lashes blinking. “I thought you were arriving next week.”

  “Oh my hat!” Felicia said. “Did I make an error? I’ll have to check my diary, but I was certain it was today. I feel foolish.”

  “No, you mustn’t. It’s probably my mistake. You know how scatterbrained I can be. Oh, Felicia, let me introduce my fiancé, Mr. George Pierce.”

  Felicia stretched out her hand and shook Mr. Pierce’s amiably. Mr. Pierce smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  To Ginger and Basil, Felicia added, “And this is my good friend Miss Irene Dansby. Irene, this is my sister-in—”

  Taking pity on Felicia, Ginger stepped in. “I’m Mrs. Reed, and this is my husband, Mr. Reed.” Now that Ginger had remarried, it was an adjustment for all to get used to her new name and family status.

  Mr. Pierce said, “How do you do?”

  Felicia took aim at her friend. “You were in London, and you didn’t bother to visit?”

  “This was a quick trip to see the Opera,” Irene explained. “One night only. Otherwise, you know I would’ve rung you.”

  “I’m surprised we didn’t run into one another at Kings Cross,” Ginger said.

  Irene glanced at Mr. Pierce then answered, “It is a rather busy place.”

  Basil contributed to the conversation with a nod. “Indeed.”

  “I’m so glad to finally meet Felicia’s friend from York,” Ginger said. “She speaks of you often. Warmly, of course. You must join us.”

  Felicia jumped in. “Unless you’d rather be alone?”

  “There’s a pressing issue we need to discuss,” George Pierce said. “We’ll catch up with you in York . . . if that’s okay.”

  Felicia’s face dropped, but she recovered quickly. “Certainly.”

  “My diary is packed in my luggage,” Felicia said once she, Ginger and Basil were settled in at their table. “As soon as I get settled in York, I’m going to check. I just can’t believe I made an error
as grave as this.”

  “It’s not so grave an error,” Ginger said. “It happens. Besides, my bet is on Miss Dansby. She did say she was a scatterbrain. How did you and Miss Dansby become acquainted?”

  “We’re childhood friends,” Felicia said, no longer able to rein in her annoyance. “We attended the same school in Chesterton.” Her gaze shot to the table where Miss Dansby and Mr. Pierce drank coffee then focused on something out of the window. “Are we slowing down? Are we at York already?”

  The loud screeching of the large metal wheels could be heard inside the dining car as the train came to an abrupt stop. Plates shifted along the tabletops and stopped at the lip around the edge. Diners were knocked about, some nearly losing their seats.

  “What’s happening?” Felicia yelped.

  The door to the dining car opened from the first-class side of the carriage, and a man dressed in a railway guard’s uniform entered. His eyes scanned the room, and when they found Basil, he headed straight to their table.

  “Chief Inspector Reed?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but we saw your name on the passenger manifest, and well, there’s been a . . . uh . . . disturbance. Mr. Tippet, the engineer, has requested your assistance.

  Chapter Three

  My honeymoon is beginning to resemble my wedding day, the words snapped in Basil’s mind. Circumstances beyond his control were commandeering his plans for the day. All he wanted was to be alone with his bride. To hold hands, be alone amongst strangers, and to forget about work.

  He had, as the Americans loved to say, struck out. Felicia travelling the same day on the same train was pure bad luck. He couldn’t very well have asked her to sit elsewhere, could he? The last thing he needed was to make the household of women he’d only just moved in with have a reason to hold ill feelings against him. And, it seemed, Felicia had made a mistake with the date after all!