Murder at Brighton Beach Read online

  Langley dipped slightly at the knees, “Yes, madam,” then carried the last suitcase with her as she left the room.

  “I think I’ll change before we go,” Felicia said.

  “Felicia, darling,” Ginger began, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to bow out as well and do as Grandmother is going to do.”

  “Oh blast, Ginger. Don’t tell me I must go shopping alone?”

  “I’ll join you tomorrow,” Ginger said. “I promise. I just need a day to recover from the exertion of the journey.” Ginger placed a palm on her stomach as a reminder to Felicia that she had more than herself to think about.

  “Fine. I’ll simply browse today. Oh, perhaps I’ll bump into Poppy Kerslake! How terribly wicked would it be if we became friends?”

  Ginger let out a chuckle. “Miss Kerslake could do no better, I’m sure.”

  Leaving Ambrosia and Felicia to do what each must do to prepare for the afternoon, Ginger stepped into the corridor where she spotted Mrs. Bainbridge again. She lifted a hand to wave—after all, Ginger couldn’t help her curiosity after the episode in the foyer with Miss Kerslake.

  “Mrs. Bainbridge!”

  The lady’s head darted up, and she blinked on seeing Ginger. “Oh, hello again.”

  Ginger stepped towards Mrs. Bainbridge and smiled. “It seems we’re neighbours.”

  “Yes, well, I’m afraid none of us on this floor will be good company. You have the misfortune of being grouped with the Bainbridge party. My brother-in-law, Austin, has been missing for over a week. You might have heard?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry,” Ginger said, her sympathy sincere. “I didn’t know he was a relation.”

  “It was meant to be a happy holiday, and then Austin went for a swim one morning and didn’t return. We don’t have the heart to imagine the worst. We can’t bear to leave until we know what happened.”

  “I see,” Ginger said. “I imagine the police are investigating?”

  Mrs. Bainbridge offered a vague smile. “They believe he drowned. Quentin, my husband, refuses to believe it.” The lift bell rang, and the grated brass doors opened.

  “Oh,” Mrs. Bainbridge said when a young lad and a man stepped into the hallway. “This is my husband, Mr. Bainbridge, and my son, Reggie. Quentin, this is Mrs. Reed. Her family is visiting Brighton from London, on holiday for the week.”

  “A pleasure,” Mr. Bainbridge said, then clearly not in the mood to chat, entered his room.

  “Your son, Reggie, is similar in age to my son, Scout,” Ginger said. “Perhaps they can play together sometime.”

  “Perhaps,” Mrs. Bainbridge said. “Now, if you would excuse me?”

  “Of course,” Ginger said. “Have a good day.”

  The door at the end of the corridor opened, and Miss Kerslake peeked out. She looked at Ginger in surprise then disappeared. For whom had she been looking?

  Ginger pondered Mrs. Bainbridge’s reaction to Miss Kerslake earlier and considered how awkward it must be for them both to be stationed on the same floor of the hotel. How very curious, indeed.

  3

  The next morning delivered another luxuriously beautiful day. After a good night’s sleep and a simple but healthy breakfast of porridge and toast, Ginger felt fortified to face the day.

  “The sea air is marvellous!” Ginger stated once they were stationed on the shore with their hired deckchairs and sun umbrellas.

  She and Felicia had donned daring swimwear under their sundresses, swimming costumes that merely covered their torsos and ending with a loose-fitting tunic over tight shorts that ended at the knee. Ginger’s outfit had bright blue and yellow vertical lines which she wore with a lemon-yellow swimming cap decorated with a daisy. Felicia’s bathing tunic was a flattering pink trimmed with a sliver neckline and matching belt that hung loosely at the hips. She had chosen a swimming hat in a contrasting jade green. Both ladies wore summer boots, suitable for a pebble beach. Ambrosia, fully dressed with a large hat on her grey head, sat upright in a deckchair beside them whilst Basil and Scout, also in torso-covering swimming costumes, frolicked in the water.

  In the distance to the east, the pier jutted into the sea. Dotted all along the horizon, sailing boats and canoes rocked. Seabirds squawked overhead and a warm breeze billowed about, ruffling the hems of the ladies’ sundresses. Other beachgoers joined them, more as the time ticked on, and soon the beach was rather crowded.

  “I’ve failed to enquire about your shopping venture yesterday,” Ginger said as she eyed Felicia from beyond the brim of her sun hat. “Did you befriend the lovely Miss Kerslake?”

  Felicia lowered the book she’d made little effort to read. “The shops are lovely, and I’m afraid I couldn’t resist picking up a few things—”

  Ambrosia clucked her tongue. “We’ll have to buy another carpetbag at this rate.”

  Felicia giggled, “Oh, Grandmama. I didn’t see Miss Kerslake until I came back to my room. She stepped into the lift just after me, and I had to juggle my shopping bags to make room for us. She was rather unfriendly and actually looked down her nose on me! It’s at times like that that I wish I could rub in the fact that my late father was a baron.”

  “She doesn’t seem the type to be impressed by titles,” Ginger said, flipping a page of the latest fashion magazine issue of La Femme Chic à Paris.

  “Everyone is impressed by titles,” Ambrosia said tightly, “whether they admit it or not. Otherwise, the system would’ve broken down long ago.”

  Having once had a title, Ginger believed Ambrosia’s statement had merit, at least in England. Ginger hadn’t even used her title when she lived in Boston and only became known as Lady Gold after she’d moved back to her childhood home, Hartigan House, which she’d inherited from her father along with several profitable business ventures in ’23. Lady Gold most certainly had more pull in London society than Mrs. Reed, but Ginger had never for a second regretted her marriage to Basil Reed.

  Her gaze sought him out, and she smiled at her good fortune. Basil Reed, wearing his swimming costume, was a sight to behold. Ginger was familiar with his well-built form, but, oh mercy, she’d never seen so much of it on display for the public to see.

  As if he could sense she was staring at him, he glanced over and smiled. Droplets of seawater dampened his hair, and he shook his head to set them free, a move that made Ginger’s heart skip a beat. How handsome he is!

  Scout grabbed Basil’s hand as they returned to the empty chairs in their circle, with little Boss happily kicking up pebbles in their wake. Ambrosia pushed her weight to the edge of her chair. “Langley!”

  Her maid, who waited with Lizzie under the shade of a sun umbrella close by, hurried to her mistress and assisted her to her feet.

  “Please take me to my room.”

  “Poor Grandmama,” Felicia said as they watched the older lady leave. “I fear the amount of skin on display has offended her sensibilities.” As if to emphasise her point, Felicia crossed a bare leg.

  Ginger didn’t want to admit that she wasn’t feeling in tip-top shape either, so she was relieved when Felicia gathered her things.

  “Are you going in already?” Ginger asked.

  “I spotted a lovely frock in a shop window yesterday that I regret not trying on. Would you like to come with me to see it?”

  Ginger was jolly keen on fashion, and even an upset tummy wouldn’t keep her from joining Felicia if she could help it. “I’d love to,” she said. “Basil darling, are you staying?”

  “Please, Dad?” Scout said. “I don’t want to leave yet.”

  “We can stay a little longer, son,” Basil said, “but then we must go in for lunch.”

  Ginger laughed at Scout’s eagerness to play. After so many years living on the streets of London and often fending for himself, Scout had missed out on playing and enjoying being a child. Ginger was pleased that he was having fun.

  Basil got to his feet, which were bare and red from the cold water. “How would you ladies like to
go out on a sailing boat this afternoon? They’re available to hire.”

  “I didn’t know you knew how to sail, love,” Ginger said.

  “Not expertly, no,” Basil said. “We’ll engage a captain.”

  Ginger shared a look with Felicia, who nodded her chin. “We could go to the shop afterwards, I suppose?”

  “I mean, we can shop anytime in London,” Felicia added, “but sailing in the Channel isn’t an opportunity that comes around all the time.”

  Ginger smiled at Basil. “It looks like sailing it is!”

  “Jolly good.” Basil turned to Scout, “Let’s go and make reservations, and then later we can get fish and chips from the beach vendor.”

  Ginger loved sailing, and while living in Boston, she had had plenty of opportunities. She prayed that her stomach tumbles would settle enough by later in the day. Most afternoons, they usually did, and all she would need was a short rest beforehand.

  Linking arms, Ginger and Felicia strolled along the promenade and up the steps to Kings Road before carefully crossing it and entering the hotel.

  It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting after the brightness of the mid-morning sun. A light-haired, blue-eyed gentleman in a pinstriped suit with a single-breasted jacket, slender black tie, and loose-fitting pleated trousers cuffed at the ankles, tipped his hat as he strolled by.

  Watching the man until he left the hotel, Felicia grasped Ginger’s arm. “Ginger, do you believe in love at first sight?”

  “Not again,” Ginger said playfully. “You’re always falling for men you don’t know.”

  “But there’s something about his eyes,” Felicia said dreamily. “I really believe we were meant to meet.”

  Ginger failed to share Felicia’s enthusiasm. There was something about the gentleman’s eyes—a brief flicker of recognition passed through them when he saw her. Ginger couldn’t place just where, but she was certain that she had met the man before.

  4

  Before walking along the seafront with Scout towards the boats-for-hire hut, Basil took a moment to slip on his loose sailor-style beach trousers and matching shirt, which took a bit of finesse as his swimming costume was still damp. He mused at the flexibility of human propriety as he scanned the shoreline. The skin on display would make the sunbathers redden in dismay and judgement if a similar standard was worn anywhere else, other than a few feet from open water. Basil could barely believe what he was currently wearing in public.

  For a gentleman of his years, recently turned forty-three, he still caught the fancy of women of all ages. Even as he strolled along the beach, he felt the female gazes, followed by titters of whispering with their companions.

  Despite Basil being apparently intriguing to the opposite sex, he was the loyal type. Since almost losing the opportunity to spend his life with Ginger, he never took her presence at his side for granted. Not only would he never risk a dalliance that might end up with him hurting Ginger, he also wasn’t even tempted. Ginger was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. She was beautiful and kind, intelligent and wise, charming and courageous. She’d saved his life on more than one occasion.

  He worried about her now, with a child growing, and how ill she’d been over the last few weeks. Basil was unused to seeing his wife in any state of weakness; however, her physician had reassured them that stomach upset in the early weeks was quite normal.

  Her condition was a blessing that had come as a complete shock. Basil’s first wife, now deceased, had never wanted children. Basil hadn’t realised that she’d taken matters into her own hands without telling him, and when children didn’t come, he accepted that being a father wasn’t part of God’s plan for his life.

  Then he had married Ginger, a decade his junior, but this time, nature was against them. Ginger had longed to be a mother, but despite her desires, it appeared this would not be something they would be granted. It hadn’t happened with her first husband, so she wasn’t surprised when children didn’t quickly come for her and Basil either. Fortunately, Scout had come into their lives, and adopting him had made them happy parents.

  Basil watched as Scout ran ahead and chuckled at how little the pebbly beach seemed to impact the soles of the young lad’s feet. Used to the comfort of socks and shoes, Basil walked warily and occasionally winced when happening upon a rough stone. Bringing Scout to Brighton had been a good idea. The lad was small for his age, and Basil worried about his thin frame.

  His son stopped ahead, having encountered another lad, dressed more soberly than attire at the beach required. This didn’t stop the boy from picking up a piece of driftwood and throwing it into the sea. Boss barked and started after it. Scout called him back, and Basil continued to be amazed at how obedient the small dog remained.

  When he reached the boys, Basil smiled at them then asked Scout, “Who’s your new friend?”

  “This is Reggie,” Scout answered. “He’s staying at the same hotel as us!”

  “Nice to meet you, Reggie. Where’s your mother?”

  “She’s not feeling well. My dad is going to take me out on a sailing boat.”

  Basil’s gaze went to the gentleman who’d arrived at the boat-rental hut before Basil had got there. He also wore a suit and hat not intended for wear on the beach.

  Basil stepped up behind him. “Lovely day for a sail,” he said.

  The man turned. “There’s only a medium-size craft available for this afternoon. Too large for just my son and me. He’ll be disappointed.”

  Basil looked back at Scout, who displayed a big-toothed grin. It was then that he realised Scout had very few friends his age. A quick stab of emotion hit the target.

  “There’s four in my sailing party,” Basil said. Ginger, Scout, and Felicia had their hearts set on sailing that afternoon. Ambrosia had made it clear she wasn’t about to set foot on anything that didn’t remain firmly under foot.

  “You and your son are welcome to join us,” Basil continued. “It appears our children have made friends.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” the man said. “Normally, I’d book a smaller one for tomorrow, but alas, I feel it’s time my family and I leave Brighton.” He held out a hand. “Bainbridge. You’ve met my son, Reggie.”

  “Reed,” Basil returned. “My deepest sympathies on the loss of your brother.”

  “Thank you. After surviving the war, he dies whilst on holiday. Such a tragedy.” Bainbridge shifted his shoulders back and exhaled. “Everyone has lost somebody. We must all move on.”

  “Indeed, we must.”

  Basil discussed the terms with the captain of the sailing boat.

  “Two hours and a lovely time, I assure you,” the jolly man said. He wore a white sailor’s cap on a head fringed with white hair. The leathery lines on his face betrayed an age of days exposed to the sun and wind. His eyes twinkled, almost disappearing when he smiled. “It’s all the peace and relaxing you’ll need.”

  “Sounds delightful,” Basil said. He turned to address Bainbridge. “Are you sure there’s no one else from your party who’d like to join us?”

  “Mrs. Bainbridge is incapacitated at the moment. I didn’t even want her to come to Brighton, but she insisted. I fear she’s paying for her stubbornness now. Her feet are so swollen, well . . .” He paused as if recognising he’d probably shared too much. “Perhaps Lord Davenport-Witt would like to join. He’s the Earl of Wincanton, a dear friend of Austin’s. I believe he tolerates that Findley.” He frowned. “I’m not dreadfully fond of him myself.”

  Basil wasn’t aware of either man, and didn’t feel the need to enquire more deeply into Bainbridge’s affairs.

  “Very well. I’m returning with Scout to the hotel to change. Are you headed that way?”

  “I think I’ll linger a little longer. Reggie and I will meet you back here later.”

  Basil dipped his chin then called for Scout and Boss, the former showing fresh excitement on learning that his new friend would join them later.
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  Scooping Boss under one arm and taking Scout’s hand with the other, Basil safely led them across the busy Kings Road. Glancing up at the second floor of the hotel, he saw Felicia in the window. She smiled when she spotted them and waved.

  5

  The entire time in the lift, Ginger and Felicia discussed love at first sight.

  “One can hardly be in love with a man when one doesn’t know a fig about him,” Ginger insisted. “For heaven’s sake, Felicia, you don’t even know the gentleman’s name.”

  “You saw the way he looked at me. Eyes as deep blue as the sea, brooding desire, the current of electricity that shot between us—”

  Ginger laughed out loud. “You’ve been reading too many penny dreadfuls.” She snatched the book tucked under Felicia’s arm and read the title, Women in Love.

  “It’s not a penny dreadful!” Felicia snatched back the novel written by D. H. Lawrence and held it to her heart. “Laugh if you must, but I know in the depths of my soul, that he’s the one for me.”

  “I do hope the fellow is single,” Ginger said. And that Ambrosia would approve, though Ginger kept that thought to herself. Felicia was beyond caring if her choice of gentleman du jour pleased her grandmother, and her ongoing single status was a point of contention between the two Gold women.

  When they reached their floor, the lift attendant opened the gate. Ginger had to give the man credit for holding in the grin that balanced on the edge of his smile.

  “Thank you, Mr. Weaver.”

  Ginger and Felicia paused at their respective doors. “One hour?” Felicia said.

  “Let’s eat before we go. Basil and Scout aren’t coming in for lunch, so I’ll order something to be brought up. We’ll take it in your suite so Ambrosia can join us.”

  Having their luxurious room to herself was what Ginger needed at that moment. Setting her beach bag on the table, she found herself drawn to the chaise longue. I’ll lie down for a few minutes before deciding on an outfit suitable for sailing. I should ring for Lizzie—