Gold Digger: A Klondike Mystery
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It's the spring of 1898, and Dawson is the most exciting town in North America. Fiona MacGillivray has crawled over the Chilkoot Pass determined to make her fortune as the owner of the Savoy dance hall. But first there's the issue of the dead body on centre stage.
I’m assuming you killed Jack Ireland. So? I most certainly don’t care. I should thank you for seeing the bastard dispatched to his reward. ” “Shut up and sit down. ” I kept talking. At times it is what I do best. “Margaret, I don’t see why you’ve involved me in this sordid mess. ” I started to walk backwards, one tiny inch at a time. The boulder lay behind me. The crowded safety of town beyond that. I might be able to scale the rock in one magnificent leap. But then again, Her Majesty Queen Victoria might swoop down from the heavens and carry me to safety.
Ray Walker growled low in his throat. “Hadn’t you better be getting back to the bar, Ray? ” Fiona glared at him. Graham Donohue planted himself directly in front of the dancing couple. Ireland shifted Irene to guide her around the obstacle. Donohue stepped with them. They might have been a dancing trio. Ireland stopped. Irene twisted her head to see what was going on behind her. Fiona crossed the floor, pushing men and dance hall girls out of her way. One by one the couples on the floor drifted to a halt.
The dance halls were open for business. Chapter Eleven “He lose much? ” Sterling asked. “’Bout five thousand,” Jake said, his face showing not a glimmer of emotion as he gathered up chips. “Fellow’s been in here since opening. That last bet musta wiped him out. ” Jake was nattily dressed in a stiff white wing-tip collar, a colourful silk neck piece and sharp bowler hat. His enormous black moustache curled up at the edges. Turning his attention back to the job, he spun the big wheel. “No more bets. ” “What a fool,” Sterling mumbled.
Ireland picked up his drink and walked over to me. “Bet you have some stories to tell. ” He spoke directly to my cleavage. “No,” I said. “Not a one. If you’ll excuse me…” He grabbed my upper arm. “I’ll make it worth your while. ” Talk in the room stopped as abruptly as if it had been scripted. Everyone stared at us, frozen in place, mouths open, glasses half-raised. They looked as if they were performing in a tableau for the entertainment of the Prince of Wales. I stared at Ireland’s hand, before lifting my eyes to his face.
Wonderful soup,” Sterling said, digging in with enthusiasm. “What happened, sir? ” Angus asked. At least he’d waited until the Manns left the room. “You’re still in uniform. ” “And not locked up either. ” Sterling tore a generous hunk off the loaf of dense brown bread and spread on liberal quantities of butter. “Haven’t had butter in a while. I told the Inspector it was all a misunderstanding, and no harm was done. ” “He accepted that? ” I asked. The soup was potato and cabbage. Common enough, but with a dab of butter and a splash of milk—fresh milk—added to raise it above the ordinary.