Death by Blackmail: A 1930s Murder Mystery (Poison Ink Mysteries) by Beth Byers

Author:Beth Byers [Byers, Beth]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2019-06-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Georgette Dorothy Marsh

Georgette realized she’d been a damsel in distress when she looked up from the cup of tea and whiskey that had been pressed into her hands.

“Oh my,” she rasped. She paused at the sound of her voice and then repeated, “Oh my.”

A cough struck her a moment later, and once it stilled, she dared to sip her tea concoction until the itchiness at the back of her throat faded.

“What happened?” she finally asked.

Charles took hold of her hand. “I was going to ask you.”

Eunice entered the parlor with a bowl of water and a wash cloth. “You’re pretty sooty.”

Georgette wiped her face. “I was telling everyone who I was and in the process, smoke started coming into the room. The door was locked and people started panicking until Marian and I opened the window and started helping the ladies out the window.”

Charles shook his head and then told her, “Someone left a note on the door. It was about the blackmailing. Someone else must have realized that it had to be one of the ladies who was doing the blackmailing.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Georgette told Charles, speaking low and quiet so she didn’t strain her voice.

“It’s the plan of an idiot, certainly,” Charles agreed.

“Don’t talk about it,” Eunice ordered. “She was barely aware of what was happening a few minutes ago. She needs to rest. She’s been in shock and quite frankly neither the blackmailer nor the fire are any of our concern.”

Charles agreed, and Eunice harassed Georgette until she was in the bath with lavender oil and bath salts. When she was helped from the bathtub, she dressed in pajamas and put a heavy dressing gown over the top. She was struck with occasional shivers, but Georgette made her way down to the kitchen and then paused in the doorway. Charles was still in the cottage, and Georgette felt instantly like a drab mushroom.

“I—”

“Your color is better,” Charles said. “I’ve been worried.”

She pressed her hands to her cheeks, which were suddenly burning, and then said in a strained whisper, “I am feeling better. Except for my throat and lungs.” She paused for a moment and admitted, “And my heart.”

Charles took her hand.

“I’ve prepared a chicken soup for supper,” Eunice said. “I thought it might help you feel better.”

Georgette agreed and took in the scent of freshly made bread. Soup and bread were just what she needed after what she’d been through.

“Eunice,” Georgette rasped, “we’re leaving Bard’s Crook. As soon as can be arranged. Charles found a set of rooms in London we can take while we sell the cottage and find a new place.”

Eunice nodded, muttering, “We’ll be lucky to survive Bard’s Crook given that everyone will know you’re Joseph Jones by the end of the day.”

Georgette flinched at the sourness in Eunice’s voice, but she was also well aware that her maid wasn’t wrong. Two people had been murdered and there had been an act of arson. Georgette was coming to the conclusion that Bard’s Crook was never what she had imagined.

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