Murder at St. George's Church by Strauss Lee

Author:Strauss, Lee [Strauss, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Historical, Crime, Romance
ISBN: 9781988677293
Amazon: B07BH2V273
Goodreads: 50748982
Publisher: La Plume Press
Published: 2020-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

Ginger slid into the driver’s seat of her motorcar. Haley opened her door but hesitated.

“Are you going to get in?” Ginger asked.

“I think there’s a bus stop near here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re so frightened of the Crossley that you’d rather take the bus.”

“I’m not frightened of the Crossley, I’m frightened with you driving the Crossley.”

“I’m going to visit Miss Bertram. Surely, you want to join me?”

“I do.”

“Then get in.”

“Fine,” Haley muttered as she settled in and shut the passenger door. “But if I die at your hands, I promise I’ll come back to haunt you.”

Ginger laughed. “Deal.”

Miss Marjorie Bertram lived in a flat in a stone and brick house that had once been lived in by a wealthy family but had now been divided into several smaller abodes. Miss Bertram responded to the ringing of the bell of her ground-floor flat.

“He was right,” she said on seeing them. “Come on in.”

Ginger stared at the youthful, sensible brunette.

“Hello, Miss Bertram. What do you mean, he was right?”

“Chief Inspector Reed. He said there was a good chance that you might call around.”

“He did, did he?” Ginger said through tight lips. “What else did he say?”

“That I was to cooperate and answer your questions.”

Ginger glanced sideways at Haley who merely shrugged.

“Would you like some tea?”

“That would be splendid,” Ginger said.

Haley whispered in Ginger’s ear. “More tea? I’m going to float away.”

The sitting room was brightly decorated with a light, paisley-print wallpaper; whitewashed floor with a large wool rug; and rose pin-cushion chairs placed in a semicircle around a fireplace, now lit. Above the mantelpiece was a photograph in a circular frame of a lady wearing a red dress.

“Do you live alone, Miss Bertram?” Haley asked.

“No. I have a flatmate, Charlotte, but she’s at work. She’s a nurse at the hospital. Works all sorts of hours, so I never know when she’ll be around. It’s nice, though. I like being alone.”

“Are you employed?” Ginger asked.

“I’m a typist.”

After asking how Ginger and Haley liked their tea, Marjorie Bertram poured three cups. She settled in her chair and picked up a partially completed doily made of fine white cotton stabbed with a narrow crochet hook.

“You don’t mind if I crochet while we talk?” she asked.

“Of course not,” Ginger said. “You do lovely work.”

“Thank you, Lady Gold. I find crocheting helps me to relax. With everything that’s happened . . . Well, this is my second since . . .”

“Yes,” Ginger said, helping her along. “Mr. Edwards’ death was quite tragic.”

Miss Bertram worked her crochet hook furiously. “I’ve never seen a dead body before. Charlotte has, of course, and thinks I’m making too much of it.”

“I recall feeling very distressed by my first dead body,” Haley said.

Miss Bertram paused and stared. “Your first?”

“Miss Higgins is training to become a pathologist,” Ginger explained. When Miss Bertram’s eyes failed to register understanding, Ginger continued. “A pathologist examines bodies for cause of death.”

Miss Bertram’s mouth dropped open. “Why on earth would you want a job like that?”

“It can be quite interesting,” Haley said.

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