Swan Song Murder: A 1920s Cozy Historical Mystery (Goldie Weston Historical Mysteries Book 3) Read online

  Swan Song Murder

  Goldie Weston Historical Mysteries

  R. A. Wallace

  2022

  Book Three

  Author’s Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, dialogue, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Material in this book is not intended as a substitute for medical advice from qualified professionals. The author has no connection to any product, book, or website mentioned.

  © 2022 R. A. Wallace. All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Brandi McCann www.ebook-coverdesigns.com

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Further reading

  Chapter One

  Goldie Weston lifted her fingers from the typewriter keys to reach for a handwritten letter on floral stationery. The note addressed to Ask Mrs. Doyenne contained a simple request for information that required only a brief response. Her advice for cleaning hair brushes in ammonia water finished her ladies’ column neatly.

  Pulling the completed page from the roller, Goldie read the responses she wrote to her readers. She was certain the suggestions she gave for recipes, decorating tips, and ways to save on household expenses would be met with approval. She was equally certain that her remarks to a twelve-year-old girl would be met with dismay. No one at that age wishes to hear that she is too young to walk home with a particular boy from school each day. Nevertheless, Goldie had no qualms about siding with the girl’s parents on the matter as she did routinely in response to similar queries.

  It was with a sigh of satisfaction that she reached for the attic blind to roll it up. The early morning light streaming through the window in front of her makeshift desk served as a reminder that her attention was needed elsewhere. She switched off the lamp before descending the stairs to the first floor.

  Once she had the coffee pot on the range, she entered the pantry to search the shelves for breakfast. She found many coffee cans and oatmeal boxes with handwritten notes but checked the contents of each one anyway. Although their intrepid maid was a true vinification marvel, Bitsy was sorely lacking in many other household skills.

  One repurposed can marked macaroni now contained rice whereas a second labeled with lima beans held haricot beans. An oatmeal box marked graham flour was filled with cornmeal but also served to produce a smile on her lips. It was the inspiration she needed. After gathering the rest of the ingredients, she tied on an apron and got to work.

  To the wheat flour, cornmeal, and sugar, she added egg yolks, sour milk, and baking soda. She was stiffly beating the egg whites when Bitsy appeared hiding a yawn behind one hand. With the other, the petite woman in a maids’ uniform took a coffee cup from a hook.

  “Morning, miss.”

  “Good morning. The coffee should be ready.” Goldie moved aside to allow Bitsy more room.

  After filling her own cup, Bitsy poured another for Goldie. She lifted a bottle of milk and held it over her coffee.

  “No, not that one. It’s sour.” Goldie turned to add the egg whites to her cornmeal waffle mixture. “The sweet milk is still in the ice box.”

  “That would ruin a perfectly good cup of coffee,” Bitsy mumbled as she switched the bottles. “Imagine your sister’s cereal if I put the wrong one on the breakfast tray.”

  “Late night?” Goldie asked as she filled the waffle iron positioned over the burner.

  Bitsy made a noise of agreement as she set Goldie’s coffee within reach before leaning against a counter to drink her own. “I had a marvelous time. I even saw one your brothers briefly.”

  “Dom?” Goldie guessed. Close to Goldie in age, Domenic owned the newspaper that printed the Ask Mrs. Doyenne column.

  “No.” Bitsy tipped her cup to take a long drink.

  “Not Hap?” A few years her senior, Harrison just recently began working with their father at the radio station. “I thought he was going to give up his nightlife?”

  “Well, I doubt he’ll do so entirely. Your brother Hap enjoys dancing too much,” Bitsy said as she began gathering tableware. “But it wasn’t Mr. Hap that I saw last night either.”

  Goldie began naming the rest of her brothers. “Surely it couldn’t have been Fen or Morrie? Both of them are married.”

  Bitsy hummed agreement as she crossed to the toaster.

  “Percy is just a baby,” Goldie continued. “That leaves Dash.”

  Her brother Dashiell was close to Nettie’s age. Both Dash and her sister Clarinda, or Lindy as she was known in the family, were Desdemona’s children.

  “Seeing him reminded me of his mother’s return to the stage,” Bitsy said as she sliced the bread. “She must be thrilled. Dark Goes the Night was her most famous role.”

  Goldie heard the starstruck tone in Bitsy’s voice. “Mona was at the height of her career during that play.”

  “No other actress could ever come close,” Bitsy agreed as she swapped sliced bread for toast.

  “Do you miss it?” Goldie lifted the waffle holder. After turning the cast iron form to add the cooked waffles to a plate, she returned it to the burner to add more batter.

  Bitsy laughed. “I never claimed the adoring audience that Mrs. Mona enjoyed.”

  “But your work on the stage must have been very exciting.”

  “If you count the number of times that I forgot my lines as exciting, it certainly was that.” Bitsy reached for the pot to replenish their coffee. After adding more milk to their cups, she returned to the toaster.

  “You couldn’t have forgotten your lines too often,” Goldie argued amiably as she added more waffles to the plate. “No one would have hired you.”

  “Let’s just say that any lasting impressions of my acting wouldn’t bring as many happy smiles as the memories of Mrs. Mona’s performances,” Bitsy said dryly as the kitchen door opened.

  “Good morning!” Iggy held the newspaper aloft. “I come bearing a gift. Oh, cornmeal waffles. I love waffles.”

  “Why don’t you get started with these?” Goldie suggested as she passed the plate to him. “You can carry in one of the trays on your way to the dining room.”

  “Maple syrup?” Iggy asked hopefully.

  “Oh, here it is.” Bitsy passed it to him.

  “There’s an article in the newspaper about Mona’s return to the stage,” Iggy said as he lifted the breakfast tray. “I can’t wait to read it.”

  “We’ll be right behind you,” Goldie called after him.

  She and Bitsy found the others seated around the table when they carried in the last of the toast and waffles. Iggy was reading aloud from the newspaper as Goldie slid into her seat.

/>   “Can you believe it?” Iggy lowered the newspaper. “Mona is going to wear the actual necklace from Dark Goes the Night.”

  “Maybe we should steal it?” Nettie suggested as she added milk to her coffee cup. After spooning in some sugar, she stirred the mixture while lifting it to her lips.

  “Zynettie, what a thing to say.” Mags frowned at her youngest daughter.

  “What?” Nettie licked the sugary coffee from her lips. “The necklace is worth a lot of dough. We’d be rich.”

  “I would just be happy to see the necklace,” Iggy said as he added jam to his toast.

  “Well, of course you’ll see it.” Mags kept her eyes on her plate as she spoke. “We’ll all see it during the performance.”

  Goldie froze in the act of cutting her waffles. Lifting her eyes, she found duplicate expressions of shock on the faces around the table. Iggy was staring open-mouthed at Mags. Nettie and Vida were staring at Goldie.

  Mags remained focused on the food in front of her. “And then there are the parties, of course. We’ll all be in attendance for those. Mona’s parties are always so gay.”

  Goldie watched Nettie’s eyes widen as she mouthed the word Mona. Goldie shrugged. For as long as they could remember, Mags only referred to Mona as That Actress. It was Mona who replaced Mags as Meriwether Weston’s wife. Although it was true that Mags never said the words to Mona’s face, it was the only address she used in the privacy of her home. Until now.

  Goldie shifted her eyes from her sisters to Iggy. She found him staring at his own plate as he cut his waffles into unusually small pieces. That Mags should suggest Iggy attend a family function was telling. It could only mean one thing.

  “Of course,” Iggy said as his knife and fork clanked against his plate. “I would love to attend.”

  “It’s settled then.” Mags smiled brightly around the table. “We’ll all go together. Won’t that be nice?”

  Vida signaled to Goldie with her eyes as she lifted her coffee cup.

  Goldie forced a smile to her lips. “It sounds lovely.”

  Vida hummed agreement as she drank.

  Nettie made an inarticulate noise as she quickly ate her cereal while cutting her waffles. All the while, her eyes darted from Mags to Iggy.

  Iggy waved the paper he held in one hand. “It seems the producer was able to convince all of the original cast members to reprise their roles in Mona’s return to the stage.”

  “I wonder if she’ll continue to perform after this?” Vida asked.

  Iggy made a face indicating he wasn’t certain. “The article says that Mona agreed to come out of retirement for only this one night.”

  “Why do you suppose she agreed at all?” Vida asked.

  “I would do it if I could wear the necklace,” Nettie muttered around a mouthful of waffles.

  “Zynettie,” Mags said in a warning tone.

  “What?” Nettie dropped her fork on the empty plate. “I need dough. How is a girl to live without it?”

  “I was referring to your table manners.” Mags dabbed a napkin delicately at each corner of her mouth. “But now that you mention it, discussing money is equally tasteless.”

  “Only the rich can afford to be quiet about money,” Nettie muttered before emptying her coffee cup.

  “Oh, listen to this.” Iggy waved a hand to silence them. “Meri is to broadcast Mona’s performance.”

  “However will he do that?” Mags asked. “The performance is at the theater, not at his wireless radio station.”

  “I can’t imagine he means to transport his equipment to the theater.” Goldie thought of her father’s current shortage of funds after purchasing the radio station. “The cost would be astronomical.”

  “If he owned the necklace, he could sell it for the money,” Nettie grumbled. She brightened a moment later. “I wonder if Papa knows any yeggs?”

  “I should think not,” Mags said sternly.

  “I doubt it would help in this case,” Iggy said to Nettie. “There’s to be special security to ensure no yegg has a crack at it.”

  Goldie found herself staring at her sisters again as Iggy and Mags shared a laugh over Iggy’s quip.

  “I can’t wait to meet all of the cast members,” Iggy said as he set the newspaper aside.

  Nettie immediately snatched it up and began searching through the pages. “None of them are as good as Mona.”

  “Naomi Blackmoore always believed that she was.” Mags lifted her coffee cup. “As did Hermine Worsley for that matter.”

  “Is Hermine the one who is always half seas over?” Nettie tossed the rest of the paper aside when she found the Ask Mrs. Doyenne column.

  “Hermine and Naomi both,” Mags said. “But Sydney Nielsson knew what he was doing when he cast Mona in the lead role.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met him,” Goldie said as Vida hummed agreement.

  “I imagine Mona is excited about the entire cast coming to Southbank,” Iggy said.

  “Too bad she’ll be celebrating alone,” Mags said.

  “What do you mean?” Vida asked as she read over Nettie’s shoulder. “We’ll all be there.”

  “I understood from Auri that Mona doesn’t have a particular beau. Nothing aside from the casual friends with whom she normally associates.” Mags waved a hand at Nettie and Vida. “Are you two done yet? I’d like to read Mrs. Doyenne also.”

  “What do you think about the dating question?” Nettie asked Vida as she passed the newspaper to her mother.

  “Thirteen is too young.” Vida added her empty plate to the tray.

  “Too young? Oh, my. A picture show. Mrs. Doyenne is correct, as always.” Mags peered over the paper at Iggy. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Far too young to be attending a picture show with a boy,” Iggy said with authority.

  “I’m blousing,” Nettie declared.

  Goldie followed her sisters from the dining room. As they climbed the stairs together, Nettie twisted around to flash a smile.

  “She invited Iggy. I told you they were getting married.” Nettie brought her hands up to work her fingers through frizzy curls created with a permanent wave outfit at home.

  “Neither one of them mentioned marriage,” Vida said with a tinge of doubt in her voice.

  “She called Mona by her real name,” Nettie argued. “When was the last time you heard her say that?”

  “Drat, you’re right,” Vida muttered. “Both of our parents will be married to people our own age.”

  As much as she wanted to argue, Goldie thought perhaps her sisters might have the right of it.

  “Too bad Iggy doesn’t own his father’s store,” Nettie complained.

  “Why?” Goldie asked suspiciously.

  “I could ask him for dough.” Nettie darted into the bathroom. “Instead I’ll have to figure out how to make it on my own.”

  “Dough?” Goldie said to Vida.

  “She means money,” Vida translated.

  “I thought something else meant that?” Goldie tried to remember what word Nettie used before.

  “The flapper language changes almost daily,” Vida reminded her. “Some treat it like a secret code. They don’t really want the rest of us to know what they are saying.”

  Goldie raised her voice to call to Nettie from the hallway. “As long as it doesn’t involve bootlegging. Promise me, Nettie.”

  A shrug was all she received in response. Goldie spoke more firmly. “Nettie, I want your word on this.”

  Nettie refused to meet her sister’s eyes in the mirror. “Why did you have to pick a special agent for a boyfriend anyway?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” Goldie replied automatically.

  Chapter Two

  The sound of a policeman’s whistle barely registered at first. It wasn’t until the uniformed man leapt in front of her coupe that she shifted her eyes from the rearview mirror to the scene in front of her. She discovered an officer frantically attempting to gain her attention.
br />   Goldie flashed an apologetic smile after bringing her motor car to an abrupt stop.

  Upon ensuring that she meant to remain safely in place, the man turned to wave on the traffic from another direction.

  Goldie’s eyes automatically returned to her rearview mirror only to discover the initial problem remained. She found no evidence of a fedora hat with unique dimpling in any of the vehicles behind her. She tapped her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel as she waited for the signal from the policeman that she was permitted to continue.

  Instead she saw a dark sedan full of men race past. A moment later, several police cars followed. It was only then that she realized there were sirens. Too preoccupied with thoughts of a certain special agent, she hadn’t noticed the sound until now. It was several moments before the traffic officer gave her the signal to proceed.

  She gave a small wave of appreciation as she did. It earned her an indulgent smile in return from the officer tasked with maintaining order. With one final glance in the mirror, Goldie gave a sigh of resignation as she drove toward the newspaper office. She told herself as she did so that it was far better for her that Zebulon Masterson wasn’t nearby.

  If he knew how often she visited The Sentinel, the astute special agent might begin to wonder at the reason. Her role as Mrs. Doyenne was a secret she was unwilling to reveal to anyone aside from the few who already knew. That small number included only her brother Dom, her best friend Dina, and Dina’s mother, Letitia Castleburn. Of course, Bitsy also knew.

  “Good morning.” Goldie passed some completed columns to Dina when she reached her desk.

  Dina tapped the article on the front page of the newspaper she was reading. “Mona must be thrilled. I can’t imagine how much fun she is going to have reprising her role.”

  “Did you get to the part about the original cast signing on as well?”

  Dina held her clasped hands beneath her chin. “It all sounds so exciting. You’ll have to tell me every last detail of the entire event from start to finish including what everyone is wearing. Oh, and their hair.” Dina flapped her hands. “And the jewels. I want to know everything.”