Ginger Gold Mystery Box Set 3 Page 29

  “Yes, you’re right.” Basil stepped under the church eaves to take shelter from the rain, which had increased in intensity. “How is the old chap?”

  “Honestly, I wouldn’t know.” Ginger had refused to take his call over breakfast as she had still been too angry over what had transpired at the Ritz Hotel gala. She didn’t like how possessive he was being. Perhaps, she should feel flattered, but instead, she’d grown annoyed.

  Basil’s eyes lingered on Ginger, and she quickly averted her gaze. She wasn’t going to let him get under her skin.

  “I’ve just come from visiting Mary Blythe,” she said, eager to change the subject.

  “Oh? I was going to go there from here. What did you learn?”

  “She’s in the family way.”

  Ginger felt a sense of smug satisfaction at the shock that registered on Basil’s face. She’d been the one to uncover a vital fact. “And it’s not Oliver’s,” she added. Basil’s eyes narrowed as he considered the implications.

  “Does Reverend Hill know?”

  Ginger slowly shook her head. “No. It’s why I came.”

  “Who’s the father?”

  Ginger raised a brow.

  Basil guessed. “Theo Edwards?”

  “Mary confessed it to me today.”

  “It explains the message on the wall,” Basil said. “I wonder if Morris acted too rashly in releasing Mrs. Edwards.”

  “You know what they say about a woman scorned.” Ginger said. “Although, Catherine—“

  “Yes.”

  Ginger motioned to the vandalism. “She’s the one who tipped me off.”

  “Esme Edwards or Catherine Edwards. Maybe they’re in this together?”

  “We can’t dismiss Mary Blythe,” Ginger said.

  Basil nodded. “She’s a clever girl. She could’ve done this to throw the scent off herself. It’s a tactic tried by other criminals.” Basil called over one of the constables who was scouring the area and taking notes, and gave him instructions to pick up Mary Blythe for questioning.

  “Before she decides to do something like leave town,” he said to Ginger. She nodded in agreement.

  As they started back to their motorcars, Basil said, “I think I need to talk to Mrs. Edwards again. Would you like to join me?”

  Ginger considered Basil’s question. He didn’t need Ginger to tag along, and William certainly wouldn’t like it if she did. Was that why Basil had asked her? As a jab at Captain Beale? No. Basil had been including her on his interviews long before William had come on the scene. William needn’t even know. Really, what business was it of the captain’s anyway? With that thought, she’d made up her mind. “Yes. Would you give me a moment to speak to Oliver first?”

  “I’ll wait in my motorcar.”

  Ginger found Oliver inside having tea with Mrs. Davies in the kitchen.

  “Hello, Lady Gold,” Mrs. Davies said warmly. “Would you like a cup?”

  A spot of hot tea would’ve been nice since the rain had come with a chill. “Thank you, but no. I’m afraid I can’t stay long.” To Oliver she added, “Could we have a word in private?”

  They stepped into Oliver’s office, and Oliver took his seat, threaded his fingers together, placed them on the desktop, and leaned in. “What’s on your mind, Ginger?”

  Ginger eased into one of the chairs facing him. “I’m afraid I have some rather distressing news.”

  “Dear Lord, not more. When it rains, it pours, does it not?”

  “Apparently.”

  “What is it?”

  “It has to do with Mary.”

  Oliver unlatched his fingers and leaned back. “Yes,” he said cautiously.

  “I’ve just come from a visit with her. It seems her desire to marry you wasn’t exactly . . . honest.”

  His cheeks grew pink in anticipation of bad news. “Please, Ginger. Just say it.”

  “Very well. Mary is expecting.”

  “Expecting what?”

  “A child.”

  Oliver’s pale lashes blinked wildly. “That’s not possible. We’ve—” The pink in his cheeks bloomed to crimson as understanding dawned. “Oh.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Ginger said.

  Oliver’s expression crumpled. “That would explain her eagerness to wed quickly.”

  “I’m afraid it gets worse.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Theo Edwards was the father.”

  The silence between them grew so thick that Ginger could hear herself swallow.

  Oliver pulled open his desk drawer and retrieved a half-empty bottle of whisky. He didn’t bother to use a glass, just twisted off the top and took a swig.

  “I do apologise,” he said after wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

  “Not necessary. I know how big a shock this must be.”

  “Yes. Very.” He inhaled deeply and let out a long breath.

  “You don’t have to go through with the wedding now,” Ginger said. “I know you had doubts.”

  “Yes, but what shall happen to her? To her child?”

  “She can give it up for adoption. There’s a more pressing problem than that.”

  “What?”

  “She had motive, opportunity, and means.”

  The deep rose colour drained from Oliver’s face. “No. She wouldn’t have.”

  “We don’t know that for sure. If Theo threatened her in any way, she might have been desperate enough to do it.”

  “But the vandalism—” Oliver’s gaze dropped to his lap. “Oh dear—that’s why that word was chosen.” He looked up at Ginger. “Someone knew.”

  “I believe so.”

  “But if Mary was responsible for Mr. Edwards’ death why would she write that?”

  Ginger repeated Basil’s theory. “To take the focus of the murder inquiry off her. It makes her look like the victim.”

  Oliver pushed his chair back, pinned his elbows on his thighs, and cradled his head in his hands. “This is a disaster.”

  Ginger went to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll blow over in time, Oliver.” She hoped her words provided some comfort to her friend. She hoped her words were true.

  Once Oliver reassured her that he’d be all right, at least for now, Ginger joined Basil in the Austin.

  “That was awful,” she said as she collapsed her umbrella and closed the passenger door. “Poor man!”

  Basil started the engine, but before he could put the gear into reverse, another police motorcar pulled up behind him. Basil rolled down his window.

  “What is it, Constable?”

  “A disturbance was called in from the home of Miss Mary Blythe. Miss Blythe has been found unconscious and bleeding.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  By the time Basil and Ginger arrived at the Blythe residence, police motorcars were blocking the way. Ginger’s pulse jumped at the sight of the white ambulance with the letters LCC—London County Council— inscribed on the side, and its back double-doors opened wide. It meant that things were more serious than she’d hoped.

  Basil raced through the pouring rain to the front door, and Ginger kept to his heels just barely staying dry under her umbrella.

  “Chief Inspector,” the constable said when he saw them. “Come this way.”

  Mrs. Blythe hurried over to Ginger when she saw her. The elder Blythe lady looked to have aged ten years since the last time Ginger had seen her—the skin on her face grey and sagging, her eyes brimming with tears, and her nose red. Ginger collapsed her umbrella before leaning it against the wall and extending her arms, taking both of Mrs. Blythe’s cold hands in hers.

  “Oh, Lady Gold, it’s horrible. I was only out for an hour, two at the most, visiting Mrs. Barker, and when I got home. . .” Mrs. Blythe’s lips began to tremble uncontrollably as she whispered, “I found her.”

  “Is Miss Blythe . . .?”

  “She’s alive, thank God, but bruised terribly. There’s a lot of blood, though. I can’t account for it
.”

  Ginger called on the same constable who had greeted her and Basil at the door. “Would you take Mrs. Blythe into the kitchen and make her some tea?”

  The constable nodded and guided Mrs. Blythe by the elbow.

  Ginger joined Basil in Miss Blythe’s bedroom and watched as the ambulance attendants moved Mary onto a stretcher.

  “What happened?” Ginger asked. She had a sudden shot of remorse at having left Mary alone after she’d revealed her deceit. “Did she do this to herself?”

  Basil shook his head. “No. She was attacked.” He pointed to the candleholder on the floor, its end covered in blood. “She has bruising on the side of her face and, I’m afraid, on her abdomen.”

  Ginger hadn’t noticed Mary’s facial injury as it was on the side away from where Ginger stood. Mary’s skin was a pasty white, her lips a pale blue, and her breath shallow. She looked close to death, and Ginger desperately hoped Mary would make it through this.

  The doctor who’d responded to the call approached. “Am I free to go, Chief Inspector?”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “I’ll be at the Royal London Hospital if you need me.”

  “Doctor,” Ginger asked before he could leave. “Did she lose the baby?” That would account for the blood loss.

  The doctor frowned. “I’m afraid so.”

  Oh, mercy.

  Once Mary was rolled out of the room, Sergeant Scott began to take photographs.

  “The men shall bag the evidence once Scott is done,” Basil said.

  “Someone has to tell Oliver,” Ginger said.

  Basil nodded. “I’ll get Sergeant Scott to go to him when he’s finished here.”

  Ginger would go herself, but she’d come with Basil and didn’t have her motorcar. Besides, she wanted to go with Basil to the next interview.

  “Shall we call on Esme and Catherine Edwards?” she asked.

  Basil knocked on the front door of the Edwards’ residence, and like last time, the response was so slow that Ginger thought there mightn’t be anyone at home. But unlike last time, it was Esme Edwards and not her sister-in-law, Catherine, who opened the door.

  Mrs. Edwards snorted when she saw Basil and then settled her gaze on Ginger. “I expected you, Lady Gold, since you’re supposed to be helping me,” she said accusingly. She glared at Basil. “Not him.”

  “May we come in, Mrs. Edwards?” Basil asked.

  “What for? I’ve done nothing since your officers released me except keep to my own business.”

  “We would just like a moment of your time,” Basil said.

  “And if I refuse?”

  “We could always do it at the station.”

  Mrs. Edwards huffed. “Come in, then, if you must.”

  The chair Catherine had occupied when Ginger and Haley had visited earlier that day was empty, and Mrs. Edwards didn’t sit in it. Instead, she chose an identical chair next to it. The small occasional table that separated the chairs was now clear of the glassware. Ginger and Basil seated themselves on the sofa.

  “I hope you’re not expecting tea,” Mrs. Edwards said. She squeezed her sizeable backside into the armchair. “As this shall undoubtedly be a short visit.”

  “We’ll be as brief as possible,” Basil said.

  “Lady Gold, you’re still working for me, are you?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Edwards. Your cooperation with Chief Inspector Reed will be helpful to me. I’m really working hard to find out who killed your husband.”

  Esme Edwards snorted in Basil’s general direction. “Very well.”

  “Where is Miss Edwards?” Basil asked.

  “Having a lie down in her room.”

  Basil glanced at Ginger before replying, “We’ll need to speak to her as well.”

  “Shall I wake her?”

  “In a moment. Let’s chat together a bit first. Did you visit Miss Mary Blythe today?”

  Esme’s chin retreated. “What? No? Why would I do that?”

  “She was attacked this afternoon,” Ginger said. “Would you know anything about that?”

  “What! Why would I? I have nothing to do with her.”

  “Can you tell me about your relationship with Mr. Cecil Piper?”

  Mrs. Edwards blinked in confusion. “What? There’s no relationship between me and him.”

  “Relationships don’t need to be romantic,” Ginger explained. “Would you call Mr. Piper a friend?”

  Mrs. Edwards tensed. “An acquaintance at best.”

  “Is there any reason to believe that Mr. Piper might want your husband dead?” Ginger asked.

  “I would say it should be the other way around.”

  “Why’s that?” Basil said.

  “Because of how Mr. Piper treated Catherine.”

  This wasn’t the answer Ginger expected.

  “What do you mean?” Basil asked. “What does Mr. Piper have to do with Catherine?”

  Mrs. Edwards sighed. “I might as well tell you as your kind snoop and claw until you’ve found what you’re looking for anyway. You might’ve noticed that Catherine is a bit slow and pouty. Like a dark cloud follows her everywhere. She acts as if rain hits her head alone during a storm. I said to Theo, the girl’s just looking for attention, but he insisted that she had problems in the head. He went and admitted Catherine to that mental hospital. I told him not to, but Theo never listens to me.”

  Ginger and Basil nodded. This was information they already knew, so they waited for Mrs. Edwards to continue.

  “Just like I said she would, Catherine got worse, not better. She hated all the staff there, especially, for some reason, Mr. Piper. He said that it was normal for patients to strike out at those that worked closest with them. I finally put my foot down and insisted that Theo bring Catherine home, but by then, the damage had been done. She has never been the same since.”

  “Do you think something happened to Catherine at the County Mental Hospital?” Ginger asked. It wasn’t unheard of for female patients to be taken advantage of.

  Mrs. Edwards swallowed. “Catherine claimed that someone touched her.”

  “You don’t believe her?” Basil asked.

  “Catherine doesn’t know the truth from a lie, Chief Inspector. I can tell you this: she never bore a child.”

  “Intimate encounters don’t always end with the conception of a child,” Basil returned.

  Mrs. Edwards’ fleshy hand flew to her mouth. “Chief Inspector!”

  “Had Catherine been violated?” Ginger asked gently.

  “I really don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

  “Was it Mr. Piper?” Ginger asked.

  “He says no.”

  Ginger shared a knowing look with Basil. Mrs. Edwards had just confirmed that Catherine had been taken advantage of.

  “Did Mr. Piper say who might’ve abused Miss Edwards?” Basil asked.

  “No,” Mrs. Edwards’ huffed. “He wasn’t about to inform on his work colleagues. They stick up for one another.”

  “Would you fetch Miss Edwards for us, Mrs. Edwards?” Basil asked.

  Mrs. Edwards let out a long sigh, making a point that Ginger and Basil were causing her a great inconvenience. She pushed on the arms of the chair and heaved herself out.

  “Catherine has probably got rid of anything that could tie her to Miss Blythe’s attack,” Ginger said quietly once they were alone.

  “Possibly. That doesn’t mean we can’t get her to confess.”

  To the murder of Mr. Edwards? Or the attempted murder of Miss Blythe? It was possible that Catherine could be guilty of the latter without being guilty of the former. Mr. Piper was still a candidate for that.

  Mrs. Edwards returned alone. “Sorry, but she’s not in her room.”

  Basil glanced at Ginger and then said, “But you said she was home.”

  “She was. She must’ve sneaked out when she heard your voices. I don’t rightly blame her.” She scowled pointedly. “No one likes to be harassed by the polic
e.”

  Basil stood. “Would you mind if we took a look in Catherine’s room?” The expression on his face made it clear that he wasn’t asking permission.

  “That’s an invasion of a lady’s privacy,” Mrs. Edwards said.

  “I shall remind you that this is a murder inquiry, with the addition of attempted murder.”

  Mrs. Edwards grimaced in her defeat. Ginger joined Basil as the lady led them down a short, dark passageway. She opened a door with a sigh. “I don’t know what you expect to find.”

  Catherine’s bedroom had bright white walls with a cherry wood floor. The wooden furniture had rounded edges and was stained a pretty slate-blue. The single bed was made with a soft-pink quilt trimmed in wide floral lace. Matching curtains hung around a tall window.

  On top of the dressers were piles of knitted baby things: booties, sweaters, blankets. A search in the drawers and the standing wardrobe revealed even more. Ginger found Catherine’s apparent obsession somewhat disconcerting.

  “She was knitting baby booties when Haley and I were here this morning,” she said to Basil, keeping her voice low. “I have a feeling she wasn’t knitting them for Mary as she claimed.”

  Esme Edwards watched nervously from her position at the door, her hands cupped together at her waist.

  “Why has Catherine knitted so many baby things?” Ginger asked her.

  “A spinster needs a hobby. No harm in it.”

  Leaning in close to Basil, Ginger whispered, “Perhaps Catherine conceived during her time at the mental hospital, lost the baby, and was unable to cope with her loss.”

  “It could explain why Theo Edwards brought her home.”

  Ginger glanced at the door, relieved to see that Esme had finally left them alone. “Why would Mrs. Edwards deny it?”

  “It’s possible she doesn’t know, if the baby was aborted or miscarried before Catherine returned.”

  “Why would Theo Edwards keep the secret? Why not expose who did it?”

  “Perhaps he didn’t know.”

  “Then why would Catherine keep it secret?”

  Basil shrugged. “Her attacker could be holding something over her head. If news got out, it would ruin her reputation and the reputation of her family.”