Ginger Gold Mystery Box Set 3 Page 2

  She hadn't yet known his name, but she’d watched him, a dapper gentleman, from across the room and wondered if he would ask her to dance. When he did, it was like they'd been dance partners all their lives. Rhythm, which came naturally to Basil, had been a struggle for her late husband, Daniel. When dancing with Basil, whether the waltz like they were doing now or the upbeat jazz-craze dance of the Charleston, it was like they were one person. Bodies and minds in harmony with each other, knowing instinctively how to move together; it was spiritual and intimate.

  She felt Basil's breath near her ear. He whispered, "I love you, Ginger Gold."

  Ginger's heart seemed to stop. For the first time since she'd met and danced with Basil, she lost a beat. All at once, she was both ecstatic and terrified. She knew she had to let go of Daniel. I’ll never stop loving him, Ginger thought. But it had been six years since he died, and it was time for her to move on. Daniel would want her to. Her feelings for Basil were different, but they were true.

  "I love you too, Basil Reed."

  Suddenly the music faded away, and she knew of nothing more than Basil's lips and embrace. She was ready for a lifetime of this.

  The telephone interrupted them, and Basil groaned.

  "I have to get this," he said ruefully. Pulling out of their embrace, he went to the occasional table where a candlestick phone continued to shrill. Basil picked it up by the neck and placed the cone-shaped receiver to his ear.

  "Reed, here."

  After listening for a few moments, he said, "Yes, Superintendent Morris. I'll be right there."

  He sighed as he returned to Ginger's side. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid duty calls."

  "A murder?"

  Basil grinned. He knew that Ginger wasn't known to stand on the sidelines of a good murder mystery. "Not so exciting as that, dear girl."

  "Very well." Ginger gathered the Destiny under one arm and Boss under the other.

  "Let me help you with that," Basil said, taking the painting. He walked Ginger to the Crossley and assisted her as she slid in. "Dinner tomorrow night?"

  Ginger smiled brightly. "Absolutely!"

  Chapter Three

  Ginger called in at her Regent Street dress shop, Feathers & Flair. She'd leased the two-storey limestone building in the autumn of the previous year. Business in the first quarter of 1924 had proven to be steady, in part because Ginger had had the foresight to stock factory-made frocks as well as the usual imports from well-known fashion houses. Ladies from the upper classes had caught on to the convenience. There were the lower prices. Plus, the luxury of shopping for a dress that fitted and returning home with it that very day was quite compelling.

  Thankfully, Ginger had employees she could count on since she'd lately been spending fewer hours at the shop, now, occupied as she was, with her private detective side job, her ward, Scout Elliot, the houseful of staff and the women in her care. And then there was Boss and her newly acquired, exquisite gelding. And she couldn't forget her burgeoning friendship with Basil Reed! He needed her time as well. Ginger sighed contentedly. Her life was good.

  Madame Roux, Ginger's competent shop manager, was busy with a customer, smoothly answering her questions and giving reassurances as to the quality and originality of the gown of interest. Within minutes, Madame Roux had a sale. When the patron had her back turned, Ginger winked at her manager who nodded subtly with a slight twitch of the lips.

  Tastefully decorated, the shop had shiny marble-tiled floors, tall white walls trimmed in gold, and electric chandeliers. Not overly stocked, there were just a few mannequins on display, a rack of scarves and accessories, and a wall dominated by hats.

  "You will be the queen of the ball, Mrs. Sutton." Madame Roux's accent with the way she presented herself, neck long and shoulders back, confirmed that she was distinctly French.

  Ginger carried Boss to the back room, concealing him as much as she could under one arm. She slipped through the velvet curtain that separated the back area from the front. Some customers objected to a canine presence in the shop, so Ginger tried to be as subtle as possible.

  Emma was bending over a new Singer sewing machine, hands pushing fabric under the needle as her foot worked the large iron pedal underneath the wooden dock, back and forth, to keep the needle going. She was so engrossed in her creation she barely acknowledged Ginger's arrival. Boss went directly to his bed, which was kept in the back room for his occasional visits. Curling up, Boss promptly closed his eyes.

  Leaving Emma to her masterpiece, Ginger returned to the front and went upstairs to the second floor. As expected, she found her employee Dorothy West, a pleasant if not emotional girl who came from a middle-class family. Her simple style suited the clientele who frequented the upper level of Feathers & Flair, since the elite generally didn't like to be shown up by a shop assistant. Dorothy was engaged with a customer. What Ginger hadn't expected, however, was that the customer would be none other than Basil's estranged wife, Emelia Reed.

  Ginger's entrance caught her nemesis' attention. Emelia glanced at Ginger with contempt. "Lady Gold."

  "Mrs. Reed. This is a surprise."

  "Why is that? I'm in the market for a good frock as much as the next woman."

  Ginger eyed her with suspicion. It wasn't like Feathers & Flair was the only upper-end dress shop. "I hope you are finding what you're looking for."

  "Miss West is filling me in on the trend of factory frocks. Quite enlightening."

  Dorothy blushed and pushed her shingled brown hair behind her ear. The effort accidentally knocked a hairpin onto the floor. She swooped to pick it up.

  "Excuse me," she said.

  "That's a beautiful pin," Emelia said with interest.

  "It's a story button pin," Dorothy said. "My grandmother's."

  "What's the story?" Ginger asked, taking a glimpse at the tiny relief sculpture surrounded by a circular silver frame.

  "It's Lucy and Edgardo, tragic lovers from an Italian opera."

  "How intriguing!" Emelia examined it before handing it back, and Dorothy slipped it into the pocket of her fine-knit sweater.

  Ginger headed back downstairs feeling unnerved by Emelia Reed's presence in her shop. She wondered if Emelia intended to ask Dorothy about Ginger’s relationship with Basil. If so, Mrs. Reed would be disappointed. Ginger had never mentioned Basil to her staff as she and Basil had agreed to keep their relationship quiet until his divorce was finalised.

  Chapter Four

  Hartigan House was a large house in the prosperous district of South Kensington. When George Hartigan passed away, Ginger had inherited it along with a sizeable sum of money and a percentage of her father's American manufacturing business. At first, it had been only herself and her American friend Haley living in the large house, along with a small staff of three. Now it was home to not only Ginger and Haley but Ginger's grandmother-in-law, Ambrosia; her sister-in-law, Felicia; a long-term guest, Miss Matilda Hanson; and Ginger's ward, Scout Elliot.

  Ginger parked the motorcar in the garage and, with Boss at her heels, strolled through the back garden to the door leading to the morning room. She found Ambrosia engrossed in the April edition of Vogue magazine, the cover sketch aptly portraying a sea of colourful umbrellas at the feet of two fashion-conscious women, one opening a green umbrella and the other a red, under heavy rain.

  The Dowager Lady Gold's round eyes squinted in concentration, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when Ginger made her presence known.

  Ambrosia snapped the magazine closed and threw it on the chair beside her. "Ginger! You startled me!"

  "So sorry, Grandmother. I thought you heard me come in."

  Felicia’s cheerful voice trickled into the room before she entered with an enraptured Matilda Hanson at her side. Miss Hanson, a bright medical student, had the misfortune of having found herself unwed and with child, a situation sure to damn a woman to shame and poverty, even in these modern times. Ginger had offered to shelter Miss Hanson until the child came and could be a
dopted, much to Ambrosia’s dismay. "There are homes for ruined women, you know."

  "I'm looking for my magazine," Felicia said. "There's something darling inside that I just have to show Matilda."

  Matilda.

  Ginger was pleased that Felicia and Miss Hanson had become friendly enough to move to first names. It hadn't been so long ago that Felicia had expressed her disapproval over Miss Hanson moving in with her "tarnished reputation."

  Ginger glanced at Ambrosia who shrugged a soft shoulder. "I haven't seen it. Waste of good paper if you ask me."

  Ginger chuckled. "I think I spotted it on one of the chairs."

  Felicia circled the table until her gaze landed on the magazine. "Here it is." She took a chair and patted the one beside her for Matilda.

  "The weather's rather tolerable," Ginger said. "I just had a pleasant tea in the gardens of St. George's Church with Reverend Hill. We could move to the veranda."

  "I would but . . ." Miss Hanson's hand moved over her protruding stomach. "I'm afraid Mrs. Schofield might catch a glimpse."

  Ginger had sworn the household to secrecy but could do nothing about the neighbours if they caught sight of the unmarried mother. The notoriously nosey Mrs. Schofield was not above inviting herself over to visit Ambrosia—another thing her grandmother objected to, but in this case, propriety prevented her a way out.

  "Quite right. Well, you get a nice breeze in through the windows, and if you shift over slightly, you can sit in the sun’s rays."

  "Yes, you're right, Lady Gold. Good idea."

  Ambrosia grunted as she leaned on her walking stick to stand. "I'll see myself to the drawing room." The elder Lady Gold had taken to escaping to the grand, but underused, room when Miss Hanson had moved in, "turning Hartigan House into a hostel!"

  "Have you seen Haley about?" Ginger asked.

  Felicia drew her attention from the magazine article. "I believe she's reading in the sitting room."

  Before making her way to the sitting room, Ginger took a peek into the kitchen, hoping to find Scout there. Mrs. Beasley, Ginger’s stout, no-nonsense cook, had him sweeping the floor. Even though the lad was Ginger’s ward, he'd been a street urchin, and therefore of low social standing. This required Ginger bringing him in as a hired hand and the boy sleeping in the attic with the rest of the staff. She was grateful to get Scout off the streets, no matter the route it had to take.

  She left him undisturbed and found Haley in the sitting room. She and Haley often shared an evening sherry or brandy together (phoo to those who said brandy was a man's drink—she'd drink it if she wanted to!), and Ginger was pleased to see that Haley had poured one for her. The cut-crystal tumbler sat a quarter full on the table beside her favourite chair.

  "You're a brick, Haley," Ginger said as she eased into her chair. She removed her beaded Paul Poiret pumps—tiny colourful beads created a mini tapestry of a French village—and put her silk-stockinged feet up on the ottoman. She sipped her brandy and let out a sigh.

  Haley lounged on the settee with long legs crossed at the ankles. She straightened her tweed skirt and pushed wayward dark curls back into her faux bob. "Hard day?" she asked.

  "No, not really. Just busy."

  "Me, too," Haley said. "Another bridge jumper."

  "Oh, no."

  "And a motorcar crash two deceased."

  Haley had just finished her third year at London's medical school for women and had been offered an internship over the summer at University College Hospital, London's premier teaching college. Ginger had always known her friend was highly intelligent and had rejoiced when the administration chose Haley for a position that normally went to a fourth-year student and, usually, a man.

  "How awful," Ginger said sincerely. She knew what it was like to lose people you loved.

  The stone house could hold a chill. Thankful that someone had started a fire in the hearth, Ginger gazed at the snapping flames before shifting her focus to the empty space above the mantel.

  "I'm assuming you've noticed The Mermaid is missing," Haley said. "I hope we haven't had a robbery."

  "I removed it," Ginger admitted.

  "Whatever for? I thought you loved that painting."

  "Basil admired it too. I gave it to him as a gift."

  Haley studied Ginger with a look of amusement. "As a reminder of you and your red hair?"

  Ginger narrowed her green eyes indignantly. "You think you're so clever, Haley Higgins!"

  Haley laughed. "I'm right!" She looked at the painting of the brunette in a red dress Ginger had rested against the wall. "And that's the one it replaced?"

  "Yes. The figure reminds me of Emelia. I felt like she was watching me every time I went over to Basil's house."

  Haley chuckled again. "What are you going to do with the brunette now?"

  "The attic. Deep in the attic." Ginger took a long sip of her brandy. "She came into the shop today. I think she means to spy on me."

  "Really?" Haley said. "That's brazen."

  "I thought so too. She flouted herself like she had every right and reason in the world to be there."

  "Did you ask if she's signed the divorce papers?"

  "If only I could be so audacious," Ginger said with a huff. "I'm too well bred, I'm afraid. I'm certain, unfortunately, that it shan't be the last I'll see of Mrs. Reed."

  The doorbell rang just as Ginger left Haley in the sitting room, but Pippins was already there, answering the door. "It's the books you ordered, madam, for the library."

  With all that had happened in the day, Ginger had forgotten the order from Hatchards was to arrive. She meant to restore the small library on the second floor. Grace and Lizzie had given it a good dust over, and Felicia had taken charge of the décor with new carpets, curtains, and wallpaper. The books currently shelved were mostly those that had interested her father, business and philosophy, but there were a good number of classics, and art books. Painting had been a pastime her father had dabbled in. These new books would add more recently published volumes to the collection.

  Boss ran down the stairs to investigate the commotion, and Ginger whisked him up under her arm to keep him from racing outside the open door. Felicia and Miss Hanson also materialised at the top of the stairwell to quench their curiosity.

  "The books are here?" Felicia asked.

  Miss Hanson remained on the landing while Felicia skipped excitedly down the stairs. Ginger was grateful that Felicia had eagerly taken on the library project—a much better pastime than the questionable haunts she’d been frequenting and equally questionable characters she'd been spending time with.

  "Ginger!" Felicia said with obvious glee. She'd ripped open the first box and lifted out a book. "It's Bram Stoker's Dracula. First edition!

  Ginger frowned. “I don't remember ordering that."

  "That's because I ordered it," Felicia said as she examined the book.

  Ginger raised a brow. "I can hear your grandmother now. ‘Not suitable reading for the young elite of the female persuasion.'"

  Felicia scoffed. "What Grandmama doesn't know won't hurt her. Vampires are all the rage in London. People dress up at night and wander through Kensington Gardens to scare clandestine lovers!"

  Oh, mercy.

  "In fact, doesn't Kensington Palace look like a place vampires would dwell? Especially in the fog of twilight?" Felicia carried the copy upstairs to where Miss Hanson was waiting. "Have a look, Matilda."

  Ambrosia's grey mop-bun head poked out from behind the drawing room doors. "What's all this noise about?" she demanded.

  "Just books for the library," Felicia called down cheerfully from the top of the stairs.

  Ambrosia's gaze narrowed as they reached the unwed mother who looked over the entrance hall from the landing. The elder Lady Gold hadn't made the same social evolution as her granddaughter. Despite being 'ruined,' Matilda Hanson was also a commoner. Ambrosia disappeared back into the drawing room in a huff.

  Chapter Five

  The next mo
rning, with the light of dawn, Ginger was roused mid-dream. She and Daniel were at a baseball game in Boston. Fenway Park had just opened, and they were cheering on their team, eating hotdogs and laughing. Ginger was in love.

  Boss, awakened to movement in the bed, trotted to her side and licked her cheek.

  "Good morning, boy," she said, eyes still closed. Her fingers stretched over to the bedside table in search of her wedding ring. Her eyes snapped opened, and her hand went limp. She'd put her ring away long ago. Daniel was gone. She was with Basil now.

  Ginger's chest tightened, washed anew with melancholy and that dratted, lingering sense of disloyalty. I’m not being unfaithful to Daniel. He is dead. I am legally and morally free to be with another.

  Her mind latched onto Basil. It wasn't entirely fair to him either, to have such a divided heart. One's emotional attachments could be both a bane and a blessing to one's heart. Her bedroom was a constant reminder of her late husband. Elegant, well-crafted furniture with intricate carvings in the wood, a gold and ivory chair near windows dressed in long ivory net curtains. They had stayed here on their honeymoon back in 1913. She had a fond memory of Daniel playing Frank Croxton's “Road to Mandalay” on the old gramophone that still sat in the corner, and the two of them dancing, if not a bit awkwardly, along the shiny wooden floor.

  She needed to go for a walk and clear her head.

  "Shall I take you out today?" She scrubbed Boss behind the ears.

  Lizzie and Scout usually took the pup out for his morning walk, a task Ginger had taken full responsibility for before moving to London. She needed to assuage her guilty feelings in more than one area it seemed.

  First things, first. Nature called!

  Miss Hanson was just exiting the lavatory. Her eyes drooped, and shadows had made a home under them. Poor thing was finding it hard to sleep lately. Her gaze was downward, and she nearly ran into Ginger on her way back to her bedroom.