Murder at Brighton Beach by Lee Strauss (Ginger Gold Mysteries #11)
English | 2020 | Mystery/Thriller | ePUB| 3.8 MB
I’m USA TODAY Bestselling author Lee Strauss, known for the acclaimed GINGER GOLD MYSTERY series as well as other cozy mystery, sci-fi, sweet romance and young adult.
Murder’s a Beach!
Seaside at Brighton, a family holiday turns deadly. After Ginger and Basil and their crew check into a Brighton hotel on a lovely warm day in June of 1926, a shocking discovery upsets their plans to relax in the sun.
Not only will Ginger not finish her book, she might not get out alive.
Mrs. Ginger Reed gripped her husband’s arm. Overcome with a nasty urge to vomit, she tried to steady herself to no avail. Her husband, Basil Reed, a chief inspector at Scotland Yard, stared down at her. His handsome face was etched with concern, his warm hazel eyes, round in question. “You’re not—”
Ginger held a gloved hand to her mouth and mumbled. “Uh-huh.” The former Lady Gold had been certain that she’d suffer mildly whilst travelling from London to Brighton in the afternoon—however, the mornings were the worst times. As she stared at the front entrance of the Victorian-style Brighton Seaside Hotel, she sensed the worst possible thing was about to happen.
Reaching for the first thing that would suit the present crisis, Basil grabbed a pot of pansies from the windowsill and held it by Ginger’s face. Ginger inhaled as she focused on the fragrance of the blossoms and not the bubbling acid in her stomach. She couldn’t possibly be sick in a flowerpot belonging to the management of the Brighton Seaside Hotel!
As it was, she’d already soiled Basil’s trilby on the train trip down—the stylish hat had had to be discarded at the last station.
Thankfully, the emergency passed, and she postponed further humiliation. But her eleven-year-old adopted son, Scout; her sister-in-law, Felicia Gold; and the Dowager Lady Gold, Ginger’s grandmother-in-law, circled her with expressions of various degrees of mortification. Technically, Felicia and Ambrosia were no longer related to Ginger since the association had been with Ginger’s late husband, Daniel, Lord Gold. But to Ginger, they would always be family, and the two Gold ladies resided with Ginger and Basil at Hartigan House, their home in South Kensington. Boss, Ginger’s black-and-white Boston terrier, sat obediently on the pavement, staring up at his owner with round brown eyes.
Standing back from the group were two maids—Lizzie, petite with a pixie face, who worked for Ginger, and Langley, Ambrosia’s tall and sombre-faced lady’s maid.
“Are you all right, Ginger?” Felicia asked. A decade Ginger’s junior, Felicia wore a flowered chiffon day dress with a flaring tunic trimmed in ribbon and a matching skirt with scalloped tiers. Her pretty face—made-up with thin arches for brows, two pinkish circles on her cheeks, and red bow-like lips—flushed with something akin to dread. Not because Ginger was ill unto death, though she sometimes felt like it, but because she’d behaved uncharacteristically emotionally. Since she’d learned a baby was on the way—a tremendously happy surprise—Ginger had to confess she hadn’t quite been herself.