The Airship Murders: Brass Brigade Mysteries, #1

By L. A. McGarvey

Ethan Blackwell is enjoying retired life at his countryside estate, relying more on his garden than his deductive skills. But when Lady Victoria boards the Empress of the Skies airship for a royal voyage, a killer emerges among the passengers, threatening the Queen's safety.

 

Summoned to investigate, Ethan embarks on his most perilous case yet aboard the extravagant sky-bound vessel. His keen mind is activated once more as he races to outwit a murderer.

 

With each new victim, the stakes inflate to dangerous heights. Can Ethan unravel the intricate web of lies and misdirection in time to defeat the fiendish culprit and their shocking true identity?

 

Will Ethan soar to a triumphant conclusion or crash to his doom? This sky-high mystery will keep you enthralled from the first page to the last.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trouble Twins Publishing
• Release date: Nov 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223691259

L. A. McGarvey

L. A. McGarvey is a goat wrestling, loader driving, horseback riding author with a unique sense of humour. Find her on Facebook @LAmcgarveyauthor  Email: [e-mail] 

Book preview

The Airship Murders

Brass Brigade Mysteries

L. A. McGarvey

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Trouble Twins Publishing

Copyright © 2023 by L. A. McGarvey

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact: [e-mail]

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover by Trouble Twins Publishing

First edition 2023

Contents

1.An Important Telegram

2.A Race Against Time

3.Unexpected Encounters

4.Unveiling Shadows

5.A Surprise Encounter

6.Echoes of Danger

7.Shadows of Doubt

8.Veiled Intentions

9.Mrs. Pemberton’s Surprise

10.Chilled Investigations Beneath the Skies

11.A Chilling Revelation

12.Pursuit of Clues

13.Unveiling Secrets

14.A Search Party Ends

15.Intrigues and Illusions

16.A Shooting

17.Accusations

18.A Touch of Embarrassment

19.Revelations

20.Captain’s Dinner

21.Shadows of Death

22.Vanished Blooms

23.A Note

24.Everything Comes Out in the Wash

25.The Tangled Web

26.The Preacher’s Room

27.A New Suspect

28.Another Victim

29.An Affair

30.A Shifting Suspect

31.Engineering Insights

32.A Lost Follower

33.Poor Observation Skills

34.Visit with a Daughter

35.An Uneasy Alliance

36.A Secret Room

37.The Chase

38.The Suspect Revealed at Last

39.A Surprise Attack

40.Wrapping up Loose Ends

41.Goodbyes and Promises

Also By L. A. McGarvey

About Author

one

The sun filtered through the panes of glass in my greenhouse, warming the riot of chrysanthemums surrounding me in a sea of crimson, white and gold. The earthy scent of fertilizer mingled with delicate floral notes as I pruned away the withered blooms, lost in the soothing ritual of garden work.

In the midst of this tranquil haven, Jenkins, my ever-stoic butler, broke the serenity, entering with a tray carrying a steaming pot of Darjeeling tea and a plate with a sandwich. His presence shattered the peace, and my hands, sheathed in soil-streaked gloves gripping the trowel, halted their work.

Tea time, sir, he said as he set the tray down on the table.

Setting down my trowel, stripping the gloves and wiping my hands on my apron, I went to the table. I was quite famished and glad of a break. Gardening was hard work and I had developed an appetite.

Good to see you up and about, sir. Do you need anything else? Jenkins asked, barely restraining himself from fussing over me. He set the folded newspaper beside the tray.

No, thank you. Come back in a little while to collect the tea things. I said as I settled down on the bench.

I surveyed the contents of the tea tray. Maggie had outdone herself. In her efforts to aid with my recovery, Maggie, my cook, had been experimenting with foods she believed would lead to a faster return to my former health. Nothing could do that, but I appreciated her gameness to try new things.

The sandwich lay on the tray. I delayed by pouring a cup of tea. I sipped my tea and contemplated the sandwich. I refer to the meal as a sandwich in the loosest possible terms, for I did not know quite what to make of it.

I picked it up. It was kale leaves wrapped around an interesting filling of sardines, mustard, onions and, strangely, an apple. The apple was sliced, of course, or Maggie would not have been able to layer it.

I closed my eyes and took a bite. Was that liverwurst I tasted? I took another bite. It was indeed liverwurst. What an…interesting blend of flavours. I girded my loins and finished the sandwich so I would not have to tolerate the abject disappointment on Maggie’s face if I did not eat it all. I then washed it down with the entire pot of tea and wished for something stronger to carry the taste away.

I rested for a few moments and read the daily paper while I allowed my stomach to settle. Once I read the news, I levered myself off the bench and got back to my labour.

I was once again surrounded by the bright colours of my chrysanthemums as I returned to my task of caring for my prized plants. Jenkins interrupted my thoughts as he came in to collect the tea things. He brought a small envelope to me. On the front of it was stamped ‘urgent’ in large red letters.

Telegram for you, sir, he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly as he handed the envelope over.

I sighed and set down my trowel, wiping my hands on my apron. Telegrams were never good news in my experience. But when I saw the sender’s name, my heart skipped a beat. More than one, actually.

Lady Victoria? I asked, staring at the name on the front.

Yes, sir, Jenkins confirmed, looking as stoic as ever.

I tore open the envelope, feeling a strange mix of excitement and dread. The words on the paper were simple enough, but they sent my mind racing.

‘Ethan, need your help. Meet me on the Empress of the Skies. Lives in danger. -Lady V’

I raised an eyebrow, my mind racing with questions. What kind of danger could Lady Victoria be in? And why would she need my help after all this time? I hadn’t heard from her since she came to see me at the hospital after the surgery.

Is everything all right, sir? Jenkins asked, watching me with a concerned expression.

I let out a breath and folded up the telegram. No, Jenkins, everything is not all right, I muttered, my mind already whirling with scenarios.

As Jenkins gathered up the tea things and left the greenhouse, I sat down on a nearby bench, my mind racing with possibilities. None of them good ones. I had left my old life behind, but it seemed as if it was coming back to find me. And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it. It had been a long time since I had helped Lady Victoria in any capacity. It was a sign of her desperation if she needed my help now.

I looked up from my thoughts as Jenkins shuffled into the greenhouse again, carrying another small envelope. I knew that walk. It meant he had news he wasn’t sure how to deliver. He cleared his throat and handed me the second envelope.

This just arrived, sir, he said.

Thank you, Jenkins, I said, taking the envelope from him. As he turned to leave, I could tell that he was lingering, waiting to see my reaction. Wondering what orders I would give him.

I tore open the envelope and removed the slips of paper inside. It was a second message, a train ticket and a ticket for the airship Empress of the Skies from Lady Victoria, my former employer, mentor and friend.

She was investigating a murder on the luxury airship, Empress of the Skies, and needed my help right away. My first instinct was to crumple up the telegram and tickets and toss them away. I had been forcibly retired. That had been the bitter reason behind her visit to my hospital bed following the surgery.

I couldn’t bring myself to do it and I stared at the tickets in my hand. Lady Victoria had saved my life more times than I could count. I owed her this much, at least. And one simply did not refuse to answer when Lady V called.

I sighed and turned to Jenkins, still hovering in the doorway. Prepare my things, Jenkins. I’m going away for a while.

Jenkins raised an eyebrow in surprise. Shall I inform the others, sir?

No need to bother everyone. Just the driver. I will need to go to the train station right away, and the steam car is the fastest way. I replied curtly.

The sooner I was gone, the sooner I could return. I had no intention of staying on the Empress of the Skies any longer than necessary. I had already paid an extremely hefty entry fee for the national flower show, and come hell or high water, I would be back in time to win it, with Mummy, my best chrysanthemum.

As Jenkins scurried away to pack my bags, I looked around at my beloved greenhouse. It was my sanctuary, my escape from the world. I had spent years breeding and crossbreeding chrysanthemums to create new, vibrant colours. But now, I realized that I had been using this hobby to distract myself from the fond and happy memories of my past life as an assassin and professional spy.

The car would take some time to get up to pressure and the train was not leaving for hours, so I picked a pair of pruning shears and began to trim the wilting blooms along the path as I made my way out of the greenhouse, my mind wandering back to the last time I had seen Lady Victoria in the hospital.

It had been months since we had spoken, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face her again. Especially given my current condition. But as I clipped away the dying petals, my sense of duty overtook me. I had to go. Even if I was of no use to Lady Victoria, there was no possible way I could refuse to go. I sighed. The gardener could deadhead flowers as well as I could, and probably better if I was being honest.

I tidied up the greenhouse and cleaned my tools, my thoughts racing all the while. What could Lady V. possibly need me for? I was retired from the business. Forced into it after I lost my right leg on my final assignment. My leg had been amputated and eventually replaced by a monstrous mechanical behemoth.

I wondered if I would ever get used to having the heavy thing. I had only had it a few weeks and found it to be a cumbersome nuisance.

As if thinking of my artificial leg attracted its attention, it snagged on a large clay pot and I tripped while carrying the hedge clippers to the toolbox. They came dangerously close to my eye and a thrill of excitement coursed through my veins. I hadn’t felt such a thrill since the terrible night in the restaurant where I had so irreparably injured my leg.

I put the clippers away and left the greenhouse behind and entered the manor house, my fake mechanical leg thumping and whining up the main stairs to my rooms. How could I possibly be of any use as an assassin when I could no longer move stealthily?

The fifty-pound appendage, clanking and hissing with every movement, felt like an anchor restraining my every step, clomping relentlessly. Occasionally, the gears caught, meshing and grinding together into an immovable post strapped to me.

Jenkins had drawn a bath, laid out travelling clothes and items he knew I would probably need. I would miss him taking care of the details as I always did whenever I was on missions. The bath water was hot and the bubbles were thick and foamy, just the way I liked. I sank into the hot tub after removing my leg.

Closing my eyes, I allowed my thoughts to clear and the aches of age and injury to float away. I would have preferred to remain where I was, but I had a train to catch and had delayed far too long already.

Sighing, I got out of the bath, shaved and dressed, oiling the joints on my leg. I had learned the hard way that it was best to do it immediately after a bath before I put it back on. I was well off financially, but I wouldn’t remain so if I had to pay the repairman an emergency service fee every time I turned around for something so easily preventable.

I headed down the stairs to the main foyer, my leg announcing me long before I came into view of Jenkins and the driver who were waiting for me there.

Take care, sir, Jenkins said, handing me my passport, hat and umbrella as it had started to rain while I was in my bath, making the night as gloomy as his unreadable expression.

Thank you, Jenkins. I’ll be back soon.

I left the manor behind and headed towards the train station, the summons burning a hole in my pocket, a reminder of the life I thought I had left behind. The life that seemed to be calling me back.

two

The steam car growled to life, the hiss of steam a fitting overture to the impending drama. As I slid into the seat, Richard’s concerned eyes met mine through the rearview mirror.

Are you all right, sir? My driver, Richard, asked as I climbed into the steam car.

I will be once we catch that train, I replied, settling into the seat.

We set off down the winding road toward the train station, and I tried to clear my mind of any distracting thoughts. I needed to focus on the task at hand, getting to the Empress of the Skies in time to help Lady Victoria. If she had called for me, broken and useless as I was, the situation was dire indeed.

But fate seemed to be against me. As we approached the outskirts of the village, we came upon a horse carriage with a broken wheel, stuck in the middle of the road. I groaned, knowing that this would cause a delay.

Richard pulled the car over to the side of the road, and we got out to investigate. I deployed my umbrella, fighting to keep it from turning inside out from the wind. The rain was driving sideways now and the road was a slurping, muddy mess. It was no wonder the cart had gotten stuck. The miracle was that it wasn’t mired worse.

The driver of the horse carriage was an older man, his face flushed with anger and frustration. The whistling of the steam car’s engine wasn’t helping matters as it appeared to make the horse nervous. It shied as a blast of steam blew from the stack. The horse jerked the cart sideways and the cartman fell face-first into the mud.

He swore, rather violently at us, blaming me for his fall.

Mr. Shortwhistle, what seems to be the problem? I asked, trying to keep my tone civil in the face of his unwarranted verbal abuse. He had been stuck in the mud before we arrived, after all. I had nothing to do with it.

The bloody wheel’s come off, that’s what the problem is, the man spat mud and wiped his face as he gestured to the broken wheel and lunged for the nervous horse as it reared in the traces. The horse lunged as well and broke free of the harness, running off into the rainy night, bits of leather straps trailing behind it. The cartman was beyond even swearing as he stared with dismay after his galloping transportation as it disappeared into the gloom.

This was the reason I had switched to steam engines as soon as they became available. Certainly, they exploded sometimes, I won’t deny it, but they usually didn’t run off if a branch rustled on a windy day or if a snail looked askance at them.

I sighed, knowing that this would take some time to fix. Richard, help him get the cart out of the road. You can drop him off at home after we go to the train station. We can’t leave him stranded out here. Much as I would like to, I thought. Mr. Shortwhistle and I had had…dealings…shall we say, in the not-too-distant past involving poached rabbits. Not that I begrudged the man a meal, but my daughter had nearly been shot, thanks to his carelessness.

What if someone steals my cart? he asked as he spat more mud out.

Mr. Shortwhistle, no one will steal your cart. And if they do, Richard will have a word with them.

Indeed, no one would touch Mr. Shortwhistle’s cart. Even before the wheel was broken, it had been in ill repair. Everyone in the County knew his cart on sight and I was confident it would lay abandoned and quite safe until tomorrow morning when Richard and Jenkins would come out to return it to Mr. Shortwhistle’s, ahem, estate.

Mr. Shortwhistle looked up at Richard’s giant frame. Richard’s fame for law and order was widespread around the countryside surrounding my manor house. I knew Richard’s history, of course, he used to work in The Service with me. He wasn’t so much retired, as reassigned to me as security. I had a colourful past that meant I had many enemies, Mr. Shortwhistle ranked high among them depending on the day.

Richard nodded and got to work, but I could tell that he was just as frustrated as I was. We were already cutting it close to catch the train, and any further delay would be disastrous.

I paced back and forth, willing them to move the cart out of the way faster. It was stuck in the mud past its axle, and the broken wheel made it difficult to move. The