Murder at Feathers & Flair Page 17

  Matthew groaned, his real nose bleeding as he peeled away the fake. Ginger raced to her handbag and whipped out the Remington.

  “Ginger?” Haley said.

  Ginger didn’t have time to explain. Ambrosia’s demanding voice called after her, “Georgia? What on earth!”

  Matthew tried to stay the bleeding with the tails of his shirt as he stumbled to get to his feet.

  “Stay down!” Ginger stood with legs braced wide, elbows locked.

  “What’s this?” Matthew fell back to the floor and smirked. “A female with a pistol?”

  “I grew up in America, Mr. Haines. If I fire, I won’t miss.”

  A crowd had formed and Haley and Dr. Gupta pushed their way through.

  “What happened?” Haley asked.

  “Oliver punched him in the nose,” Ginger explained.

  Haley cast a questioning glance at the reverend, and he shrugged. “He was behaving in an ungentlemanly manner.”

  “Dr. Gupta, your tie,” Ginger said. “This man is wanted by the police.”

  Dr. Gupta unknotted his tie and Ginger instructed the Russian to put his hands behind his back. Dr. Gupta tied his wrists.

  “Ginger?”

  Ginger turned to see Basil Reed in the circle. “I only just got your message. What’s going on?”

  “Hello, Inspector,” Ginger said as she lowered her gun. “This is your killer.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The constables arrived and escorted a disgruntled “Matthew Haines” to a holding cell.

  “Well, wasn’t that exciting,” Oliver said with a clap of his hands. “What’s proper protocol now? Do I need to send everyone on their way?”

  “No need to end the dance prematurely, Reverend,” Basil said.

  Oliver smiled. “Jolly good.”

  Ginger rubbed the back of her neck. Matthew had been less than gentle, and his rough handling had caused her to jar her neck. She was sure she’d get a talking to from Dr. Longden.

  “Are you all right?” Basil said, noticing her discomfort.

  “I’m afraid I have a rather nasty headache.”

  “Please,” Basil said, “allow me to take you home.”

  “I’ve had enough excitement myself,” Ambrosia said. “Reverend Hill, would you please get me my coat.”

  “And mine as well,” Ginger said. “The inspector has offered to take the dowager Lady Gold and me home early. Would you mind bringing Felicia and Haley later on?”

  Oliver's eyes flickered to Basil, and a brief look of uncertainty flashed behind them before he answered. “Yes, of course.”

  “You’re looking pale, Ginger,” Haley said. “Perhaps I should return early as well and help you retire.”

  “I’m quite fine to get myself ready for bed. Besides, I have Lizzie.”

  “That’s right. I always forget you have a maid.”

  Ginger snorted. Haley forgot nothing. She just liked to rub in her opinion of high society.

  Ginger caught Haley eyeing Dr. Gupta, the real reason Haley wasn’t insisting she return home to care for Ginger. It wasn’t because Haley loved to dance, that was for sure.

  Oliver returned with Ginger’s and Ambrosia’s coats.

  “Thank you for coming to my aid tonight, Oliver,” Ginger said. She gave him a quick hug. His face flushed a crimson colour.

  “I’m just thankful to the Lord that a disaster was averted.”

  Ginger needn’t have worried about filling dead spaces in conversation with Basil in the motorcar. Ambrosia did a fine job asking him questions about his job and informing him of her opinions about the changing times. When they arrived at Hartigan House, Ginger felt it only polite to invite him in for a nightcap so he could recover from the inquisition.

  “A drink, to discuss tonight’s events?” she said.

  Basil hesitated, and Ginger thought he would refuse her offer.

  He looked at her as he turned off the engine of his motorcar. “Okay.”

  Ginger was determined to act as though this moment was nothing more than what it was—a simple discussion. She asked Lizzie to bring her an aspirin and then sat in front of the fire while Pippins poured them drinks.

  “Thank you, Pips,” Ginger said. “That will be all for tonight. And tell Lizzie she may retire, as well.”

  “Do you mind if I use your telephone?” Basil asked.

  Was he going to ring his wife? And tell her what? That he was having an evening drink with another lady?

  Ginger wasn’t about to ask. “Of course,” she said. “You know where it is.”

  Boss, having heard Ginger’s arrival, nosed his way into the sitting room and nudged her leg. Ginger patted her lap allowing her pet to jump up. He curled up and closed his eyes as she stroked his soft forehead.

  Basil returned, sat, and sipped his gin and tonic. “I called in the decryption to Scotland Yard, and they’ll pass it on to the appropriate people at MI5.” He raised his glass. “Nice work decrypting it.”

  “Thank you. Does it mean what I think it means?”

  Basil relaxed into his chair and crossed his legs. “What do you think it means?”

  “Steel in. Iron out. 24. Stalin in. Lenin out. Twenty-four—hours? I think it means Joseph Stalin plans to kill Vladimir Lenin and become Russia’s next dictator.”

  “Twenty-four hours is long past since that message was supposed to be received,” Basil said.

  “The twenty-fourth, then.”

  Basil moved his head side to side as he considered this. “Lenin is already ill. Why not let nature take its course?”

  “Perhaps Stalin is impatient,” Ginger said. “There are others like Trotsky waiting in the wings. And rumour had it that Lenin was trying to get Stalin removed from his position as General Secretary. Stalin might not be willing to take the chance that Lenin succeeds.”

  “If true, there would be no way to prove it. Not from here.”

  “You’re right,” Ginger conceded. “It probably means something else entirely. It’s quite possible that Lenin will rally. He’s only fifty-four.”

  “Whatever the case may be, it was Mary Parker’s assignment to let MI5 know.”

  “She worked for the British side?”

  Basil nodded.

  For the next while, neither of them spoke. The clock’s ticking on the mantel seemed especially loud.

  Basil moved to the hearth, stoked the fire with agitated strikes, then spun to face Ginger. He looked wretched.

  “I’m not certain I’m doing the right thing.”

  Ginger tensed at the sudden change in subject. “What do you mean?” Her question was a decoy. Her intuition told her she knew exactly what it meant. Her heart beat heavily in her chest as she awaited his answer.

  “With Emelia . . . and you.”

  “Basil.”

  “You must know how I feel about you, Ginger. Ever since the Rosa I’ve been captivated by you. Try as I might, I push away thoughts of you, but my own mind betrays me. Just tell me there is no chance for us, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

  “How dreadfully unfair! You’re placing the burden of your marriage on my shoulders.”

  Basil ran his fingers through his hair, grabbed at the back of his neck. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Ginger’s voice dropped. “Do you love Emelia?”

  This was the moment of truth, the time for him to admit that his love for his wife had died when she left him for another lover. He thought he’d be strong enough to rekindle their love, but he found he didn’t want to. He realised that staying with Emelia would end in bitter unhappiness for them each of them.

  Basil hesitated, then said, “Yes. I guess I love you both.”

  It was a declaration of love, but not the kind Ginger could accept. Her heart ached with the knowledge that Basil cared for her, but his professed love for his wife painfully ripped away any hope of happiness together.

  “Say something,” he pleaded softly.

  “You loved her f
irst. And you entered into the sacrament of marriage together. It’s no small thing, Basil. I know.”

  “But Sir Daniel never . . .”

  Cheated. “He died. It’s far worse.”

  Later that night, Ginger opened the drawer of the bedside table beside her bed and removed a framed photograph. She wiped the glass surface with the sleeve of her silk dressing gown. Two months ago, she’d thought she might be able to move on, that she might say goodbye to her lieutenant, Sir Daniel Livingstone Gold. But she was wrong. It was too hard.

  She kissed the black and white image.

  “Love, I’ve missed you.”

  Reclining on the bed against her big feather pillows, she held the frame to her chest, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

  Chapter Thirty

  Ginger enjoyed Saturday morning brunches at Hartigan House. Mrs. Beasley always did her best to amaze them with her cooking—fried eggs and bacon, toast slathered in fresh butter, canned peaches, fried kippers and hot tea. Even Felicia roused herself out of bed by ten o’clock to join them.

  “I still can’t believe that the Countess Balcescu was Matthew Haines all along,” Felicia said with a pout. She arrived at the breakfast table in the morning room wrapped in a satin dressing gown. Her short dark hair, yet to encounter a brush, stuck up at the back. “I have the worst luck with men!”

  “Good thing none of them is here to witness this display,” Ambrosia said with a contemptuous flick of her hand. “Could you not do us the simple courtesy of dressing?”

  “I’m only going to go back to bed after this, Grandmama.”

  Ambrosia huffed but held her tongue. Some battles weren’t worth fighting, at least not before breakfast.

  “You can’t fault Mr. Haines’s acting abilities, though,” Haley said. Her long curly hair had been left in a loose ponytail down her back, out of her usual faux bob. She, however, had dressed in a casual wool skirt and cotton blouse. “I never recognised him at the dance.”

  An arsenal of costumes and props had been discovered in Matthew Haines’s flat, including a fake dirty-blond moustache he used when playing the actor, and a female down-filled body suit he used to create the countess’s figure. Basil had told her during a strictly professional courtesy call that Haines had confessed to working for a pro-Stalin faction of the Red Army. British secret agent Mary Parker had wormed her way into the same circle. No doubt her beauty gave her easy access.

  “Mr. Haines had me fooled too,” Ginger said. “Without his spectacles or the moustache, and with black shoe polish in his hair—and that nose—he looked, acted and sounded completely unlike his actor persona.”

  Haley chuckled. “Poor Oliver thought he’d broken his nose right off.”

  “I thought Oliver quite chivalrous,” Ginger said.

  Felicia agreed. “I wish a man would come to my defence in such a heroic fashion.”

  “Mr. Haines was quite a master at altering his voice, as well,” Haley added. “So unfortunate that he chose to use his talents for ill.”

  “He confessed to adding chloral hydrate to Princess Sophia’s and Lady Whitmore’s drinks to create a distraction,” Ginger explained.

  “A sleeping draught,” Haley said. “That would explain why the ladies felt faint.”

  “Yes,” Ginger said. “It’s why no one saw him go behind the curtain into the changing rooms with Mary Parker.”

  “Such a scoundrel!” Ambrosia blustered.

  “I’m just glad it’s over,” Ginger said. “The man we know as Matthew Haines will hang for his crimes.”

  Boss whimpered at Ginger’s side and when he’d got her attention, Ginger slipped him a piece of bacon.

  Lizzie arrived with a fresh pot of tea and refilled everyone’s cups.

  “Shall I take Boss for his morning walk, madam?” she asked of Ginger.

  “If you don’t mind. I have work to attend to after this.”

  Lizzie left with Boss just as Pippins entered with the Saturday paper.

  “News from Russia, madam. I thought you’d be interested.”

  “Thank you, Pips.” Ginger took the folded newspaper and spread it open on the tabletop.

  LENIN DEAD AT 54. Lenin’s body lies in state in Moscow.

  Red Military dictatorship possible.

  Ginger stared straight ahead, unseeing. Did Vladimir Lenin die of a stroke as reported? Or had he, as the coded message had suggested, been murdered?

  She shared a look with Haley who was now reading the article. Other than Basil, Haley was the only other person Ginger had told about the coded message.

  The cigarette paper and the decoded message had been delivered through Scotland Yard to MI5. Apparently, Mary Parker had overheard murderous plans from the pro-Stalin faction of the Red Army hinting at Stalin’s plan to expedite his leadership in Russia. Ginger didn’t know what England could do with this news except to be prepared for more Russian refugees. Hopefully, Europe wouldn’t be drawn into another war.

  “Did they ever find out who the Blue Desire belonged to?” Felicia asked.

  “Yes,” Ginger said, refilling her tea. “A baroness from Lithuania. There was a jewel theft at a bank there, and the blue diamond was stolen. It changed hands along the way, and apparently a number of people died along the way too. Eventually, Princess Sophia came into possession of it. No one knows how exactly, and sadly she can no longer tell us. She had a paste made as a precaution, knowing the diamond had a history of getting stolen and a reputation for being unlucky. Indeed, her paste had been stolen.

  According to Mr. Haines’s confession, Princess Sophia let the ‘countess’ in on the little secret at the gala after having one too many glasses of champagne.”

  “Mr. Haines was a busy fellow,” Haley said.

  “Yes. Once he had his eye on the Blue Desire, his original assignment became second priority. He dressed as a laundry boy to steal the diamond. Princess Sophia startled him in the act of searching her room and he killed her.”

  “That is unlucky,” Haley said with a straight face.

  “How did Mary Parker come to have the paste of the blue diamond,” Felicia asked.

  “Eventually the stolen paste made it back to Russia where Mary Parker somehow came to be in possession of it,” Ginger said. “Even the fake is unlucky it seems.”

  “My goodness,” Ambrosia said. “What a convoluted tale.”

  “I wonder if I should get pastes made of my valuable jewels,” Felicia said as she stood to go. Ambrosia followed after her.

  “What valuable jewels do you have, Felicia? Don’t tell me you’ve been receiving expensive gifts from these young men you entertain.”

  “Oh, Grandmama. I jest.”

  Ginger couldn’t help but laugh after them. “They’re quite a pair.”

  Haley agreed. “They are.” She pushed away from the table. “I have to go back to the school.” She twisted her ponytail and expertly pinned it up into a faux bob with hairpins she’d stored in her pocket. She’d done it so often she evidently didn’t even need a mirror. Ginger was impressed.

  “On a Saturday?” Ginger asked.

  “A delivery of cadavers is due to arrive at the mortuary.” Haley’s dark eyes flashed with anticipation, and Ginger had to smile. Only Haley would show so much enthusiasm over something so macabre.

  “Well, have fun,” Ginger said. She finished her tea and headed for the study where work she’d ignored with all the excitement over the last week was piled high. A letter awaited her, lying benignly on a silver platter on the desk. Using the letter opener, she sliced the envelope open. There was one sheet of thin paper folded inside.

  Dear Mrs. Gold,

  It was fun, wasn’t it? I thought I’d set the exchange in your shop, to entice you. Just admit it, you want back in the team again.

  Yours sincerely,

  Captain Francis Smithwick

  Ginger huffed as a sharp anger filled her. Captain Smithwick had purposely used her gala for his dirty work. She would never again
put herself in a position of weak subordination to another person and especially not to that man. Fuming, she struck one of her father’s matches, lit the letter, and tossed it into the hearth.

  “Enough,” Ginger muttered aloud. “I shan’t waste another second thinking about that man.”

  She returned to her desk and sorted through invoices and order forms. She opened the accounting ledger she’d brought home from Feathers & Flair and perused the income and expense columns. She was happy to note that despite the ghastly murder, her shop had done well over the last week. This was good news for the Child Wellness Project as Ginger funnelled a good amount of the proceeds there. In fact, Ginger had plans to see Oliver later that afternoon. He said it was to discuss the charity and how they’d proceed. Ginger hoped that was all the reverend wanted. She thought she’d made her position clear, but experience had shown her that sometimes the message doesn’t get through the first time.

  Every so often Ginger had to rest her head. Dr. Longden had encouraged her to take it easy. Warm baths and a good sleep did her neck wonders, but it would be a couple of weeks before it would be healed.

  Pippins tapped on the door, and Ginger welcomed him inside. “Miss Higgins is on the telephone for you, madam.” Ginger made a mental note to have a new telephone installed in her office as she pushed away from her desk. She’d call the telephone company immediately after talking to Haley.

  “Hello, Haley.”

  “I have something to tell you, and it’s not good news.”

  Ginger tensed. “What is it?”

  “Dr. Watts ordered two cadavers which were delivered to the medical school last night, and this morning there were three in the freezer. One more than there should be. One that isn’t registered.”

  “How odd.” Ginger wondered what this news could have to do with her.

  “Ginger, I think I found your missing man.”

  “My missing man?”

  “Felicia’s friend, the actor.”

  “Angus Green?” With all the kerfuffle over Mary Parker and Princess Sophia, Ginger had nearly forgotten about the missing man. “He’s dead?”