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Murder at St. Paul's Cathedral (Ginger Gold Mystery, #24)

Lee Strauss
4.57/5 (938 ratings)
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~ Available Now! ~

CHAPTER ONE

"They don't make Agatha Christie write under a male pseudonym."

Ginger Reed, known by some Londoners as Lady Gold, considered her former sister-in-law Felicia's words. Since her marriage to the Earl of Witt, Felicia had been known in high society as Lady Davenport-Witt, a title she wore well. Gifted with a pretty, heart-shaped face and fashionable rosebud lips, Felicia had learned how to put her charm and beauty to work. Thankfully, she'd outgrown her single contemporaries' wild yet lazy ways and had stepped into a sophistication that suited her new status.

"Mrs. Christie's latest book was quite good," Ginger said after a sip of tea. Boss, Ginger's loyal Boston terrier, was curled up on the lemon-yellow settee with Ginger in the Hartigan House sitting room. She scrubbed his ears. "Have you read it?"

Felicia sniffed. "The Mystery of the Blue Train? I'm in the middle of it now. Oh, Ginger!"

Ginger stared back at Felicia in alarm. "Is something wrong? Are you in pain?"

"I'm in pain of heart! I fear I will forever be known in the literary world as Frank Gold!"

Ginger admired Felicia's successful foray into the world of mystery fiction, and her propensity for drama and melodrama suited the venture. "Would you rather be known as Lady Davenport-Witt? Or Felicia something or other?"

"I suppose Lady Felicia Davenport-Witt would be rather ostentatious." Felicia waved long fingers—nails nicely done in bright crab-apple red, Ginger noted—through the air. "Oh, bother. I don't think I want to write anymore, anyway."

Ginger blinked back in astonishment. "Why not? You're not going to let another writer's success push you out of the running, are you?"

"No, it's just that, to be honest, Ginger, I feel like my creativity has dried up." Felicia wrinkled her dainty nose. "Not just a bit. I haven't written anything of worth for weeks. Seriously, months."

Ginger gazed at Felicia over the rim of her teacup as she postponed responding by taking a sip. Her tactic worked as Felicia continued, unprompted.

"It's not like they pay me that well, nor do I need the money. So, I asked myself, what would I rather do with my time?"

Ginger pushed a lock of her red, bobbed hair behind one ear as she fought back a grin. "And what did 'yourself' say?"

Felicia narrowed her eyes in response to Ginger's jesting tone. "Myself said, 'Take photographs!'"

"You do have a lovely camera," Ginger said.

"You're thinking about my Voigtländer Bergheil. Though I love its impressive accordion-style face, it still uses plates, which are only optimal for studio photography. I've picked up a handy Kodak Brownie for my new job at the magazine. It uses film!"

"Film is more convenient," Ginger admitted.

"I do enjoy snapping photographs," Felicia added, "and Charles got a man in to build me a darkroom."

"I also have a darkroom here," Ginger said. She ran a private investigative business that required plenty of photographs to be taken, though not of the creative type. Mostly the kind that caught people doing things they ought not to be doing. "There's also one at Lady Gold Investigations."

Felicia wrinkled her nose. "I don't think Magna would appreciate me using the space there for my own pleasure. Besides, she scares me a little."

Ginger chuckled. Magna Jones was a brilliant and efficient assistant, but one would never refer to her as sweet. "She scares me a little too."

"I plan to take a lot of photographs, so it will be best if I have my own darkroom," Felicia said, "but thanks for the offer."

"Any time."

"And . . ." Felicia leaned in conspiratorially. "I already have an assignment."

"An assignment?"

"I'm contracting myself out as a freelance photographer for The Sketch magazine. I know I don't have much experience, but I showed a collection of my photographs to the editor, and he liked them enough to take me on."

Ginger was intrigued. "What's the assignment?"

"I'm snapping photographs at a wedding." Felicia's grey eyes sparkled. "Not just any wedding. The Duke of Worthington's wedding at St. Paul's Cathedral. I was surprised he was allowed to get married there, but then I learned he had obtained a special licence from the Archbishop of Canterbury."

Ginger's throat went dry. She'd met the current Duke of Worthington before, when she'd investigated the deaths of the former duke and his wife. There was much talk about the nuptials of this duke, formerly known as Lord Percy Heath, and his much younger bride-to-be. She choked out, "Is that so?"

"Are you all right, Ginger?" Felicia inclined her head. "You look rather, um, stricken."

"I'm fine. My foot's falling asleep." Ginger made a show of uncurling her legs and stretching them out in front of her. She gazed blankly out the window, as her mind worked on the problem newly presented. Felicia didn't know that her grandmother, the dowager Lady Gold, had been keeping a decades-long secret that could turn Felicia's world upside down if she should learn of it.

But how could attending the duke's wedding reveal the truth? There was no real danger in that, was there? Except the anonymous note that had arrived a few weeks earlier, dismissed by Felicia but not forgotten by Ginger.

Dearest Lady Davenport-Witt,

Your name was GOLDen, but what is its real WORTH?

The truth is stranger than fiction. Do you want to know it?

I do.

However, no new missives had arrived for Felicia, at least none that she had mentioned.

Ginger crossed her ankles casually as she spoke. "I'm sure it will be an exciting experience and you will produce photographs that will please your editor."

"I hope so."

"You know, I just recalled a memory of another time we had tea together in this room. You'd received a strange note. Do you remember it?"

Felicia cocked her head. "It's funny you should bring that up."

Ginger held the dread she felt in her gut, keeping her expression blank. "Why? Have you received another?"

"I did—just last week. A nuisance note was written by someone with too much time on their hands. I'm afraid I've thrown it into the rubbish bin."

"What did it say?"

Felicia's thinly plucked eyebrows arched high as she looked upwards, remembering. "It started the same as the other one, addressing me by my married name, and then something about the wedding of the year and how everyone who's anyone would be there." Her eyes latched on to Ginger. "It was what gave me the idea to approach the magazine." She lifted her chin and added defiantly. "Believe it or not, Charles and I weren't invited."

"And now, through the magazine, you are," Ginger said.

"That's right!" Felicia crossed her legs at the knee and bounced her stylish shoe, a broad-strapped suede-and-leather pump with daring two-inch heels. "It's brilliant, isn't it, Ginger?"

"Indeed," Ginger said with feigned enthusiasm.

"Wait." Felicia's jumping leg stilled. "Were you and Basil invited?"

Ginger's husband was a chief inspector at Scotland Yard, and occasionally she and he would work a case together. "Yes, but we likely made the guest list because we had a previous connection with the duke," Ginger explained.

"Right." Felicia shivered. "You and Basil solved the murders of the late Duke and Duchess of Worthington."

Ginger nodded.

"Is Grandmama going too?"

"She wasn't invited either."

"Ooooh, that must've got her goat." Felicia laughed. "Grandmama doesn't like to be excluded."

Ginger didn't think Ambrosia minded this time around. The elderly matriarch had nearly insisted that Ginger and Basil decline their invitation. Ginger had soothed her by saying it was better for someone to attend to observe and report back, just in case. In case of what, Ginger didn't know, but Ambrosia had been mollified.

"She'll just have to read about it in the papers," Ginger said, smiling benignly at Felicia. "Look at all the wonderful photographs you're sure to take."

"I suppose that'll have to do for Charles, as well," Felicia said with a pout.

"You know," Ginger started, "I bet I could get you and Charles an official invitation if you'd like."

Felicia's eyes lit up. "That would be splendid. It would be nice to share the experience with my husband. At least some of it."

Ginger nodded with understanding. Charles was a busy man. She wondered if he realised he was becoming guilty of neglecting his wife.
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Murder at St. Paul's Cathedral (Ginger Gold Mystery, #24)

Lee Strauss
4.57/5 (938 ratings)
Read Download
~ Available Now! ~

CHAPTER ONE

"They don't make Agatha Christie write under a male pseudonym."

Ginger Reed, known by some Londoners as Lady Gold, considered her former sister-in-law Felicia's words. Since her marriage to the Earl of Witt, Felicia had been known in high society as Lady Davenport-Witt, a title she wore well. Gifted with a pretty, heart-shaped face and fashionable rosebud lips, Felicia had learned how to put her charm and beauty to work. Thankfully, she'd outgrown her single contemporaries' wild yet lazy ways and had stepped into a sophistication that suited her new status.

"Mrs. Christie's latest book was quite good," Ginger said after a sip of tea. Boss, Ginger's loyal Boston terrier, was curled up on the lemon-yellow settee with Ginger in the Hartigan House sitting room. She scrubbed his ears. "Have you read it?"

Felicia sniffed. "The Mystery of the Blue Train? I'm in the middle of it now. Oh, Ginger!"

Ginger stared back at Felicia in alarm. "Is something wrong? Are you in pain?"

"I'm in pain of heart! I fear I will forever be known in the literary world as Frank Gold!"

Ginger admired Felicia's successful foray into the world of mystery fiction, and her propensity for drama and melodrama suited the venture. "Would you rather be known as Lady Davenport-Witt? Or Felicia something or other?"

"I suppose Lady Felicia Davenport-Witt would be rather ostentatious." Felicia waved long fingers—nails nicely done in bright crab-apple red, Ginger noted—through the air. "Oh, bother. I don't think I want to write anymore, anyway."

Ginger blinked back in astonishment. "Why not? You're not going to let another writer's success push you out of the running, are you?"

"No, it's just that, to be honest, Ginger, I feel like my creativity has dried up." Felicia wrinkled her dainty nose. "Not just a bit. I haven't written anything of worth for weeks. Seriously, months."

Ginger gazed at Felicia over the rim of her teacup as she postponed responding by taking a sip. Her tactic worked as Felicia continued, unprompted.

"It's not like they pay me that well, nor do I need the money. So, I asked myself, what would I rather do with my time?"

Ginger pushed a lock of her red, bobbed hair behind one ear as she fought back a grin. "And what did 'yourself' say?"

Felicia narrowed her eyes in response to Ginger's jesting tone. "Myself said, 'Take photographs!'"

"You do have a lovely camera," Ginger said.

"You're thinking about my Voigtländer Bergheil. Though I love its impressive accordion-style face, it still uses plates, which are only optimal for studio photography. I've picked up a handy Kodak Brownie for my new job at the magazine. It uses film!"

"Film is more convenient," Ginger admitted.

"I do enjoy snapping photographs," Felicia added, "and Charles got a man in to build me a darkroom."

"I also have a darkroom here," Ginger said. She ran a private investigative business that required plenty of photographs to be taken, though not of the creative type. Mostly the kind that caught people doing things they ought not to be doing. "There's also one at Lady Gold Investigations."

Felicia wrinkled her nose. "I don't think Magna would appreciate me using the space there for my own pleasure. Besides, she scares me a little."

Ginger chuckled. Magna Jones was a brilliant and efficient assistant, but one would never refer to her as sweet. "She scares me a little too."

"I plan to take a lot of photographs, so it will be best if I have my own darkroom," Felicia said, "but thanks for the offer."

"Any time."

"And . . ." Felicia leaned in conspiratorially. "I already have an assignment."

"An assignment?"

"I'm contracting myself out as a freelance photographer for The Sketch magazine. I know I don't have much experience, but I showed a collection of my photographs to the editor, and he liked them enough to take me on."

Ginger was intrigued. "What's the assignment?"

"I'm snapping photographs at a wedding." Felicia's grey eyes sparkled. "Not just any wedding. The Duke of Worthington's wedding at St. Paul's Cathedral. I was surprised he was allowed to get married there, but then I learned he had obtained a special licence from the Archbishop of Canterbury."

Ginger's throat went dry. She'd met the current Duke of Worthington before, when she'd investigated the deaths of the former duke and his wife. There was much talk about the nuptials of this duke, formerly known as Lord Percy Heath, and his much younger bride-to-be. She choked out, "Is that so?"

"Are you all right, Ginger?" Felicia inclined her head. "You look rather, um, stricken."

"I'm fine. My foot's falling asleep." Ginger made a show of uncurling her legs and stretching them out in front of her. She gazed blankly out the window, as her mind worked on the problem newly presented. Felicia didn't know that her grandmother, the dowager Lady Gold, had been keeping a decades-long secret that could turn Felicia's world upside down if she should learn of it.

But how could attending the duke's wedding reveal the truth? There was no real danger in that, was there? Except the anonymous note that had arrived a few weeks earlier, dismissed by Felicia but not forgotten by Ginger.

Dearest Lady Davenport-Witt,

Your name was GOLDen, but what is its real WORTH?

The truth is stranger than fiction. Do you want to know it?

I do.

However, no new missives had arrived for Felicia, at least none that she had mentioned.

Ginger crossed her ankles casually as she spoke. "I'm sure it will be an exciting experience and you will produce photographs that will please your editor."

"I hope so."

"You know, I just recalled a memory of another time we had tea together in this room. You'd received a strange note. Do you remember it?"

Felicia cocked her head. "It's funny you should bring that up."

Ginger held the dread she felt in her gut, keeping her expression blank. "Why? Have you received another?"

"I did—just last week. A nuisance note was written by someone with too much time on their hands. I'm afraid I've thrown it into the rubbish bin."

"What did it say?"

Felicia's thinly plucked eyebrows arched high as she looked upwards, remembering. "It started the same as the other one, addressing me by my married name, and then something about the wedding of the year and how everyone who's anyone would be there." Her eyes latched on to Ginger. "It was what gave me the idea to approach the magazine." She lifted her chin and added defiantly. "Believe it or not, Charles and I weren't invited."

"And now, through the magazine, you are," Ginger said.

"That's right!" Felicia crossed her legs at the knee and bounced her stylish shoe, a broad-strapped suede-and-leather pump with daring two-inch heels. "It's brilliant, isn't it, Ginger?"

"Indeed," Ginger said with feigned enthusiasm.

"Wait." Felicia's jumping leg stilled. "Were you and Basil invited?"

Ginger's husband was a chief inspector at Scotland Yard, and occasionally she and he would work a case together. "Yes, but we likely made the guest list because we had a previous connection with the duke," Ginger explained.

"Right." Felicia shivered. "You and Basil solved the murders of the late Duke and Duchess of Worthington."

Ginger nodded.

"Is Grandmama going too?"

"She wasn't invited either."

"Ooooh, that must've got her goat." Felicia laughed. "Grandmama doesn't like to be excluded."

Ginger didn't think Ambrosia minded this time around. The elderly matriarch had nearly insisted that Ginger and Basil decline their invitation. Ginger had soothed her by saying it was better for someone to attend to observe and report back, just in case. In case of what, Ginger didn't know, but Ambrosia had been mollified.

"She'll just have to read about it in the papers," Ginger said, smiling benignly at Felicia. "Look at all the wonderful photographs you're sure to take."

"I suppose that'll have to do for Charles, as well," Felicia said with a pout.

"You know," Ginger started, "I bet I could get you and Charles an official invitation if you'd like."

Felicia's eyes lit up. "That would be splendid. It would be nice to share the experience with my husband. At least some of it."

Ginger nodded with understanding. Charles was a busy man. She wondered if he realised he was becoming guilty of neglecting his wife.
Format:
Pages:
pages
Publication:
Publisher:
Edition:
Language:
ISBN10:
ISBN13:
kindle Asin:
B0C3WPW5Y7

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