Murder on Fleet Street by Lee Strauss (Ginger Gold Mysteries #10)
English | 2020|Mystery, Thriller, | ePUB | 3.2 MB
Hi there! I’m a bestselling author of The Ginger Gold Mystery series and The Higgins & Hawke Mystery series (cozy historical 1920s and 1930s mysteries), A Nursery Rhyme Mystery series (mystery suspense), The Perception Trilogy (young adult dystopian), The Light & Love series (sweet romance), and young adult historical fiction with over a million books read. I love to drink caffè lattes and red wines in exotic places, and eat dark chocolate anywhere. I also write younger YA fantasy as Elle Lee Strauss.
Murder’s a Deadly Secret!
Mrs. Ginger Reed—the former Lady Gold—thought her past was dead and buried, but when the mysterious death of a British secret service agent threatens to expose her own Great War secrets, she’s faced with an unimaginable dilemma: break her legal vow to the Official Secrets Act or join the agency again, something she’s loathe to do. Because once they own your soul, there’s no getting it back.
When the music ended, Ginger approached the drinks trolley manned by her butler, Pippins. Of all the people in the room, Ginger had known Clive Pippins the longest and considered the spry blue-eyed septuagenarian to be more like family than a mere employee.
His cornflower-blue eyes nearly disappeared behind folds of skin as he handed her a glass of champagne with a smile.
“Thank you, Pips,” she said, and glancing back at Basil, added, “Darling?”
Basil stepped in behind her. “Pippins, I’ll have a gin and tonic if you would.”
Basil touched Ginger’s elbow then left to join a group of men who’d congregated in one corner and were immersed in what appeared to be a rousing conversation about the stock market.
“Capital, my good fellow,” one said.
And another, “I’m making a fortune hardly lifting a finger.”
Pushing back an underlying sense of fatigue, Ginger joined Ambrosia, who seemed to be having a hard time not looking put out by their neighbour, Mrs. Schofield, who sat in the next chair.
“How serendipitous that the Adoption Act should come into effect just when your granddaughter decided to take in the stable boy.”
Ambrosia’s feathers ruffled.
“He was Georgia’s ward. Not a stable boy.”
Ginger’s lips twitched at the use of her birth name, which Ambrosia often used when addressing her in formal settings or with people she felt were stationed beneath her, such as their inquisitive neighbour. Mrs. Schofield, her white hair knotted on the top of her head in a Victorian-style bun, had a sparkle of mischief in her eye. Ginger was quite certain the elderly lady enjoyed tormenting her friend.
“And now he’s your grandson!”
Ambrosia’s wide blue eyes focused on Mrs. Schofield. “You know full well that Georgia was married to my grandson.”
“Very well,” Mrs. Schofield returned, barely holding on to a chuckle. “Great-grandson.”
“We’re not actually related. As you know.”
“Not by blood, but surely by circumstance?”
Ginger felt a twinge of pity for the dowager. “Champagne, Grandmother? I’ve not touched it yet.”
“Yes, please.” She held out a leathery hand. “Will you join us?” Then she lowered her voice just enough that Mrs. Schofield could still hear, “Before she talks my ear off.”
Ginger bit her lip to hold in a smile and took an empty seat.
Lord and Lady Whitmore, neighbours on Mallowan Court as well, were amongst the guests. Lord Whitmore, a distinguished-looking gentleman in his sixties, and Ginger shared a confidence—they were both involved with the British secret service, though Ginger had stepped out after the war. It was a fact they both pretended to know nothing about, and anyone in the room would likely be shocked if they knew the truth, including all the members of Ginger’s own family.