Death at Bayard Lodge: Mary Grey Mysteries, #2

By Winnie Frolik

When district nurse Mary Grey and her lover Harriet accept an invitation to visit the latter's godmother in the beautiful Lake District, they're hoping for a relaxing outing. But from the very start, they find themselves pulled into a web of intrigue, resentments, deceit, and violent passions.

Young newlywed Rachel Florry is found on the lawn with her skull smashed in and there's no shortage of suspects. From the girl whose fiancée Rachel stole, to a sinister vagrant, to Rachel's own mystery lover.

Mary calls on her old friend and partner, private detective Franz Shaefer to come down to Bayard Lodge and help solve the case. But as they unearth buried secrets and hidden agendas, they themselves are at risk.

• Language: English
• Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
• Release date: Sep 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781648905452

Book preview

A NineStar Press Publication

www.ninestarpress.com

Death at Bayard Lodge

ISBN: 978-1-64890-545-2

© 2022 Winnie Frolik

Cover Art © 2022 Jaycee DeLorenzo

Published in September 2022 by NineStar Press, New Mexico, USA.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact NineStar Press at [e-mail].

Also available in Print, ISBN: 978-1-64890-546-9

CONTENT WARNING:

This book contains sexual content, which may only be suitable for mature readers. Depictions of death of a secondary character, antisemitism, violence, and references to domestic abuse.

Death at Bayard Lodge

The Mary Grey Mysteries, Book Two

Winnie Frolik

Table of Contents

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

To everyone like Mary who’s felt like an outsider looking in.

Prologue

October 1936

CLUB PARADISO WAS decked out in a jungle theme with rattan furniture and lush potted palms everywhere. One wall was dedicated to a magnificent mural of a tropical setting complete with orchids, vines, scarlet and blue macaws, and, in the center, a sleek jaguar reclining on a rock. The big cat wore an alert expression as if it were examining the club’s patrons, perhaps calculating which of them would make the best meal. The place perpetually smelled of liquor, perfume, tobacco smoke, and a hint of sweat. The lighting was dimmed to just the right level to promote the shedding of inhibitions. Champagne flowed like water, and a Negro band had been hired for the occasion. Men wore suits or tuxedos, creating the discordant look of penguins in a jungle setting. The women were more inspired in their choice of frocks: canary yellow, flamingo pink, peacock patterns. An assembly of beautiful birds who only augmented the atmosphere. For those who could not be contented by the selection of liquid libations Paradiso had to offer, there were backrooms where it was rumored one could purchase opium or cocaine. And indeed, an occasional guest could be seen emerging from one of those rooms, rubbing their nose in a suspicious manner. Outside the club doors might be a gray and bleak world where storm clouds both figurative and literal were gathered. But inside was an oasis of color and gaiety where the party seemingly never ended.

That night was a special occasion. Rachel Livingston’s birthday. Rachel herself claimed she didn’t want a big party, but her cousin Lily Dalgleish thought otherwise. She had lured Rachel out to Club Paradiso under the guise of getting a simple drink only to surprise her beloved kinswoman with a large boisterous gathering. Lily had invited practically everyone she and Rachel knew in London, who in Lily’s opinion could, as they say, cut a rug and even a few folks Rachel knew from university who probably couldn’t. Their old school friend, Harriet West, was there that evening looking ravishing as usual, with her brother Anthony, just before a planned trip abroad. Anthony was telling everyone who would listen all about the grand plans he had for a new resort development in the coastal village of Ilhenny with Harriet’s fiancé, Lord Poole. Sadly, the latter had business matters keeping him away, but Lily’s fiancé, Raymond Florry, was there. And as everyone in attendance agreed, it was some party.

The band began playing a lively ragtime number. Lily was inspired to get up on a table to jitterbug. She gestured for Rachel to get up and join her, but the latter refused. There are girls who dance on tables and then there are girls who’d rather die than do so. Rachel was most decidedly in the latter category. So, Rachel in her sensible and plain black gown stayed seated while Lily danced alone. As even Rachel would admit, Lily was a good dancer by nature, and in her beaded gown she was a frenetic flurry, sparkling like a jewel as her heels tapped staccato beats along the wood of the table. Her hair got mussed a bit, and exertion brought color to her cheeks, which only made her appear all the more ravishing. All eyes were upon Lily as she earned a standing ovation from half the room. Raymond watched it all with an expression of indulged bemusement that seemed to say, ‘Yes, I know my fiancée is quite the handful, isn’t she, but what can I do?’ Rachel couldn’t help but admire his patience. How many other men would tolerate a girl who made such a spectacle of herself as Lily did?

To Rachel! Lily toasted boldly. One of her stockings had begun to slip, but she didn’t appear to notice.

To Rachel! everyone agreed.

Rachel herself was thinking how once again her cousin had upstaged her, and at what was nominally her birthday party no less. Well, Lily was Lily. She could hardly help herself. Still, after an entire lifetime of being in her cousin’s shadow, Rachel couldn’t help but wish for once that she’d be, if not the focus of everyone’s attention, at least in receipt of some recognition from someone. Was that too much to ask? She looked around the room where everyone’s faces were raptly turned to Lily. All except one. Raymond, as it happened, was looking directly at Rachel. His eyes met hers with sympathy and even a certain understanding. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking and was commiserating with her. But then Lily came over to Rachel, laughing and asking wasn’t it the most delightful party and oh weren’t they all having so much fun, and the moment passed. Rachel was tempted to believe she’d imagined it. Really, why would a man who had Lily of all women on his arm ever give her a second glance? Lily was the dancer; Rachel was the girl who watched from the sidelines.

The party wore on with dancing and drinking. People came up to Rachel to wish her happy birthday, including friends from university. A discussion broke out over that George Orwell fellow and his recently published novel, Keep the Aspidistra Flying.

I haven’t had time to read that one yet, Rachel admitted.

I wouldn’t bother, Anthony West warned. "I’ve tried it and I wasn’t impressed. Don’t get me wrong; Orwell’s a great social commentator in his essays. And his memoir, Down and Out in Paris and London, was a damn good read. But sadly, he’s far more limited as a novelist. If you ask me, he needs to stay in his wheelhouse as a journalist and leave novels to his friend Waugh. Now what’s a man have to do to get a drink around here?"

The university crowd all went home comparatively early as well as did Harriet, leaving behind Rachel and the more fanatical parties like Anthony West and Lily. The latter was known to be able to throw them back like a sailor on leave. As the hour grew late, though, even she began to totter on her feet, and Raymond and Rachel helped drag her outside.

Where are we going? Lily asked. Only she slurred her words, so it sounded like Wae-wee-goen.

You’re going home, Rachel told her firmly as Raymond went out into the street to hail a taxi. You’ve had quite enough for one night, darling.

S’pose I have, Lily muttered. You liked the party, right? She gave Rachel the look a hungry dog gives its master, hoping for a treat.

Yes, Rachel told her. It was a lovely party. And she meant it. For all Lily’s flaws she was a generous soul, and Rachel had always appreciated that. At her words Lily smiled.

S’good. Love you, you know, she told Rachel. "Love you! Like a sister to me."

I know, Rachel said as a cab pulled over in front of them. Raymond helped see Lily inside and gave the driver her address and payment, then sent them on their way.

Do you think she’ll be all right? Rachel asked with concern as the taxi drove off. She understood that Raymond wouldn’t want to be seen escorting a still unmarried lady back to her flat at such an hour, but perhaps she could have accompanied her cousin instead. It might have been the right thing to do. Even if it meant spending her birthday night cleaning up someone else’s vomit.

Oh, Lily? She’ll be fine. Raymond’s lips twitched with amusement. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. Believe me, I’ve seen her home after worse than this. Much worse. I just hope she doesn’t ruin that man’s upholstery. But, really, Rachel, what about you? He turned to her intently.

Me? Rachel’s mouth opened wide with surprise.

Yes, you! It is your birthday after all! You deserve some fun. Would you care to go back? He gestured back at the club.

Honestly, no, Rachel confessed. The thought of going inside that hot crowded club seemed stifling.

Neither would I. Shall we take a walk, then?

They did take a walk. The autumnal breeze was invigorating if chilly. At one point Rachel shivered and Raymond kindly shared his coat. She told herself it was just the good lining of the fabric and the heat of an additional human being that brought such warmth to her body and flames to her cheeks.

WHEN THE FIRST raindrops started to fall, they took shelter in a hotel bar and found a little table where they ordered drinks and talked. Rachel discussed her studies in history at the university, and Raymond listened with genuine interest. Then he told her about some issue he’d been having at work, and Rachel appeared sympathetic and gave intelligent opinions on the matter, which he appreciated. Lily, he thought with some resentment, always seemed to find his work dull. In fact, he wasn’t sure Lily even understood precisely what he did at the firm at all. It was a blessing to see not all women were as, well…frivolous as her. Rachel and Raymond swapped stories and told jokes. And both of them drank quite a bit more than they’d originally intended.

Eventually, the bar announced it was closing. They left, telling the driver there’d be two stops. Somehow during the cab ride—neither of them was ever sure how—their lips locked. Was it Rachel who first kissed Raymond or Raymond who first kissed Rachel? Did it matter? The end result was they began kissing. Raymond changed the instructions to the cabbie; only one stop after all.

And so it was that Rachel Livingston spent her birthday night in the arms of her cousin’s fiancé.

The next morning, of course, they both agreed it had been a mistake and that it should never ever happen again. Only it did happen again. And again. And again.

Chapter One

ENGLAND

Summer 1937

THE HORRIFIC EVENTS of the previous winter, when the notorious beauty and heiress Harriet West had lost her brother, her uncle, and her fiancé, had yielded one unexpected benefit. She was suddenly free of any and all social obligations. After all, nobody could expect a girl who’d been through such heartache and trauma as Harriet to attend anyone’s coming-out ball or go somewhere for a spot of shooting, much less throw any parties herself. It was perfectly understandable she would wish to keep to herself and see only a few very close friends.

It made perfect sense for her to settle in a flat in the city rather than stay in the Newcastle mansion that was really far too big for one or even two single women. Nor was it so surprising she chose to have a flatmate. Many perfectly respectable unmarried women these days preferred to live with female companions rather than be completely alone. True, that Harriet’s live-in companion, Mary Grey, was a district nurse was rather unusual, but there was little harm in it. And it really was quite a nice little flat, located in a most modern building in a fashionable neighborhood with on-site service. The flat had a tidy little kitchenette and main living area. The plumbing and heating were quite modern and state of the art. Harriet had an excellent time furnishing the place in the Art Deco style, with sleek lines, metallic finishes, and walls hung with photographs and modern art. Some of the experimental abstract pieces Harriet gushed about looked to Mary’s eyes like things a child could have drawn, but it was Harriet’s money. She did at least like one piece: an extraordinarily colorful and vibrant tableau featuring flowers, monkeys, and birds done by some Mexican artist named Frida.

Ahab, the ginger cat Mary had inherited from a deceased patient, settled into his new surroundings quickly and would spend hours sunning himself on the window ledge. The building had a regular charwoman on staff to handle the cleaning. This had at first bothered Mary; unlike Harriet she wasn’t used to being waited on, but as Harriet pointed out, if they didn’t let the woman clean the place, she would be out of a job. And she had both a crippled husband and two children to support. Mary conceded the point. Besides, over time she came to admit it was nice to be able to come home to a neat and tidy space without exerting oneself.

Harriet had purchased a bar trolley which they kept faithfully stocked with her favorite brand of sherry. They had a little icebox, and Mary could whip up the occasional meal. (Harriet was hopeless as a cook and had once started a fire attempting to make toast.) Other times they’d go out to one of the many little cafés in the area where they were becoming steadily known to the point where they could address a number of servers by name.

Occasionally, Mary and Harriet would quarrel over money; the latter did not see why the former insisted on paying her share of the groceries and rent.

It really isn’t necessary, Harriet would protest.

Oh yes, it is, Mary insisted. If nothing else to help maintain appearances. Nor, much to Harriet’s frustration, would Mary allow her to buy her expensive things. But otherwise, theirs was a life of domestic tranquility. For the sake of appearances, they had picked a place with two bedrooms, but in practice only one was ever used. In the early stages of their relationship, there had been considerable confusion, excitement, and laughter in determining how to make their bodies fit together well. Fortunately, Mary had many years’ experience in such matters and had been more than happy to put her knowledge at Harriet’s disposal. The latter had proven a most adept pupil, and together they had achieved new heights of sapphic pleasures. To Mary, it seemed for a time the two of them had created their own little Garden of Eden.

Then came the summons from Mrs. Diana Allenby.

It arrived in a thick blue envelope. A formal engraved document in beautiful calligraphic script addressed to Miss Harriet West. Requesting the pleasure of Harriet’s company at a country house party at Bayard Lodge, held by Mrs. Diana Allenby on the final weekend in August. She was asked to RSVP at once.

‘Well, surely you can just tell them you can’t attend, Mary reasoned when Harriet handed her the invitation. You’ve done it before!" For although Harriet had the perfect excuse for not going out, people still invited her. The people in question were to Harriet’s mind a load of vultures who just wanted an excuse to revel in last winter’s scandal. She’d taken grim satisfaction in turning them all down. This, however, was a different thing entirely.

You don’t understand, Harriet told her. Read this. She passed over a handwritten letter that had been included with the invitation, and Mary dutifully read aloud.

My beloved goddaughter,

At that, Mary looked up. Wait, is she really your godmother?

She is, Harriet confirmed.

And I haven’t heard of her? Mary wondered.

Well, she stays at her own place most of the time, Harriet explained, and I haven’t been down there for ages. But I’ve known her all my life. She and Mother were very close. Indeed, for many years I called her Auntie Di.

At this Mary involuntarily bit her lip. Given the familial relationship, it would be far harder for Harriet to bung off Mrs. Allenby the way she did others.

I’ve heard you’ve quite dropped out of society these past nine months. Now after all you’ve been through, my poor child, I certainly don’t blame you for wanting your space. But I do worry about you. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you last! As you know, your late mother was like a sister to me, and I have always considered you family as well. And I worry about you, my child. I truly do. It cannot be healthy for you to hide yourself away from the world like some cloistered nun of old.

This, thought Mary, was stretching things a bit. Living in a very nice city flat with a roommate and a cat was hardly a hermitage. Nor did Harriet’s situation with Mary truly resemble that of anything allowed in a convent. At least not any convent Mary had ever heard of! Though, really, who knew what went on behind closed doors? And as Mary knew full well, there was more than one reason for a woman to voluntarily swear off the company of men. It would be an interesting area for ecumenical investigation. She didn’t get the chance to share these musings with Harriet, though, as the latter continued to read aloud.

Which is why, my dear, it would mean so much to me for you to attend this outing. I’ve deliberately kept it to a smaller gathering, and you already know the Florrys.

Who are the Florrys? Mary wondered aloud.

Raymond and Rachel Florry, Harriet responded. Raymond works in London at some big banking firm. I’ve seen him at other gatherings, but the one I’m really familiar with is his wife, Rachel. She and I were schoolmates together, along with her cousin Lily. She paused momentarily as if uncomfortable. Actually, Lily was with Raymond first. They were even engaged. But then Raymond broke things off at the last minute. Practically left her at the altar. And not long after he started being seen publicly with Rachel. Which of course led to people wondering if something hadn’t happened between him and Rachel while he was still with Lily.

Oh my, Mary commented. So, Rachel stole her cousin’s fiancé?

Apparently. It was quite the scandal at the time. They say Lily had a complete breakdown and hasn’t spoken to either one of them since. Anyway, Rachel and Raymond just got married this past March. I haven’t seen her in ages either. Harriet looked sad at the thought as Mary read on.

And some other young people as well. The fresh air will do you good and the new cook is superb! And you know there’s not a more beautiful place in England to come visit in autumn than here!

Well, that’s quite a boast, Mary observed.

It’s not entirely exaggeration, Harriet responded. She lives in the Lake District. The views are, of course, stunning and the property itself is quite idyllic. Harriet’s face was swept with an expression of nostalgia. As children Anthony and I had such wonderful visits there! We’d sail on the lake and ride our ponies everywhere. There was an old ruin a few miles away we loved to explore. A smile touched her lips at the memory.

Mary’s childhood had featured neither ponies nor sailing, but she could well understand Harriet’s joy in remembering simpler times as she finished reading.

Oh, do you say you’ll come my dear! I won’t accept any refusal!

Your loving Auntie