MOVE YOUR BLOOMING CORPSE by D.E. Ireland
Blurb: My Fair Lady characters Eliza Doolittle and Henry Higgins come to life again as a hilarious investigative team in this traditional mystery for fans of British mysteries. At the posh Royal Ascot, their idyllic outing turns deadly when someone is trampled during a race and a woman is found murdered.
A beautiful blond woman sauntered through the crowd in their direction. Her apple green dress sparkled in the sunlight, drawing numerous stares.
“How dare she show her face here!” Lady Tansy said. “I told you I will not allow her anywhere near me!”
“Keep your voice down.” He grabbed her arm. “She’ll hear you.”
“I hope she does hear me. That trollop, that wanton baggage you throw money at. If you must make a fool of yourself, I’d rather you choose a woman less garish and slow-witted.”
“Enough,” he said between clenched teeth.
Lady Tansy shook free from his grip. “As though half of London doesn’t know about the pair of you. Now she further humiliates me by wearing the colors of your racing silks!”
The young woman drew near. Eliza now saw that her dress glittered with tiny green sequins, while her lacy bodice was dyed pale lilac. To complete the look, she sported a purple silk turban – something normally reserved for evening – but it looked sweet atop her honey blond curls.
“She has a right to wear them,” Lord Saxton muttered. “They’re her racing colors, too.”
“Don’t treat me like a fool!” His wife shouted so loud, everyone within ten feet turned in her direction. “I am well aware of how she seduced you into becoming a syndicate member. As she has seduced you in so much else. But I will not have it rubbed in my face!”
“I can’t stop her from wearing the colors. She paid for the privilege. And please remember that Turnbull was the fellow who brought her into the syndicate, not me.”
This enraged Lady Tansy even more. “You are both unspeakable cads.”
Saxton managed a drunken smile. “All is fair in love, war and horseracing.”
Lady Tansy slapped him so hard across the face, his hat flew off. While everyone gasped, she stormed into the crowd.
As Eliza stood speechless, Higgins appeared beside her. “What the devil is going on?”
Lord Saxton picked up his top hat and waved it at the onlookers. “Nothing to worry about. My wife had too much champagne.”
Stony silence greeted his words.
“Why is Diana Price wearing the horse’s racing colors?’ Higgins asked in a low voice.
Eliza realized he was right. The woman in the turban was Diana Price, a popular musical hall singer and former Gaiety Girl. “She owns a share in the Donegal Dancer.”
“I can’t keep track of who owns that horse. I’m afraid I’ll wake up one morning to discover I’ve become an owner, too.”
“I’m amazed you even know who Diana Price is,” Eliza said. “I thought you only went to Oscar Wilde plays.”
“Proves how little you know me. I never miss a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta. Miss Price sang Casilda in a production of The Gondoliers a year ago. Decent soprano voice, albeit a little ragged in the higher registers.”
Eliza frowned. “Even a drunk seaman at the Speckled Pig wouldn’t flaunt his fancy lady in front of his wife.”