Ginger Gold Mystery Box Set 1 Page 9

  “What was wrong with that one?”

  “I don’t know. It just didn’t feel right.”

  After two more attempts, Ginger felt she’d hit a home run with a gold, straight-lined chemise dress with two shimmering layers that flowed from the waist. It was tastefully decorated with tiny metal sequins, sleeveless, with a wide bateau neckline that accentuated the creamy contours around Ginger’s collarbones. She chose a very fashionable, beaded turban-like headdress. and finished her look off with super-sheer hose and black strappy two-inch heels.

  “How about this?”

  “It’s great. You look beautiful.”

  “That’s what you said about the others.”

  Haley shrugged, but didn’t deny the charge.

  Ginger looked at her friend dejectedly. “Oh, I miss Molly.”

  Haley said grumpily, “I’m beginning to miss her too.”

  Ginger, ignoring Haley’s veiled complaint, appealed to her appreciation of history. “Did you know the ballroom on this vessel used to be the triage room during the war?”

  “Is that so?” Haley replied.

  “Yes. The lives of many men were saved there by nurses like you.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Shouldn’t you like to come to see it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Pfft, Haley, you’re impossible.”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  “You’re sure I can’t convince you to come along? It seems a shame for you to miss such an elegant event.”

  “Dances are really of no interest to me,” Haley said. “I’d rather stay in and read.”

  “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” Ginger said twirling on the tips of her shoes. “In this case. it makes Haley a dull girl."

  “I’m sure you'll have enough fun for both of us.” Haley leaned back and propped bare feet onto an empty chair. “I'm assuming that the dashing Chief Inspector will be there?”

  “It's quite likely,” Ginger said. “He is a fine dancer after all. But don't think for a minute that I'm going to spend my evening dancing with him. There are plenty of gentlemen onboard to keep me occupied until the early morning hours.”

  “I’m almost tempted to come just to watch you. You’re a delightful spectacle on the dance floor.”

  “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?” Ginger asked hopefully.

  Haley smirked. “I’m afraid not.”

  * * *

  One truly had to use their imagination to picture the ballroom as a bloody, noisy triage centre. All traces of death and dying had been painted over and polished. The wooden floor glistened under the lights of the chandeliers that hung from an ornate ceiling. Plush, upholstered chairs in rich greens and pinks sat in clusters along the walls. The bar in the back was made of rich mahogany, with brass rails to hold in flyaway glasses.

  Ginger spotted Roy Hardy working at the bar and strolled over. He was dressed in a crisp, clean uniform, and his red hair was neatly combed over from a straight side parting.

  “Mr. Hardy,” she said in greeting.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Gold,” Roy Hardy returned with a friendly smile. “Might I get you something to drink?”

  “Yes, please. A glass of your best champagne.”

  “Most certainly.”

  Ginger watched him as he skilfully popped the cork, poured several ounces into a tall flute, and handed it to her.

  “How did it go with Miss Chloe?” she asked.

  Roy Hardy’s face flushed crimson. “I did as you said, madam.”

  “And?”

  “It’s hard to say. We’re now formally introduced, but I’m no more certain as to whether I’ve turned her heart.”

  “Baby steps, Mr. Hardy.”

  “Madam, is there something I should do next?”

  Ginger nodded. “You must do some investigating on your own as to when Miss Chloe takes her lunch break. Then arrange for yourself to have a break during that time. When you see her, ask if you can join her. If she says yes, you have your answer that she is interested. If she makes an excuse, or agrees, but without a smile, the answer is no.”

  Roy Hardy swallowed hard. “I think my stomach will not be able to handle a meal either way.”

  “Better to know where you stand upfront, no? If she’s not interested, you won’t waste your time any further. There are plenty of other girls who would be happy to spend time with you.”

  Roy Hardy waited a beat before asking, “Do you think so?”

  The young waiter had little in the way of self-confidence, and Ginger was determined to bolster it.

  “Absolutely, Mr. Hardy. You’re ambitious, intelligent, and handsome. You must see yourself as such and move forward boldly.”

  “Thank you, madam,” Roy Hardy said, smiling ear to ear. “Thank you, so very much.”

  Ginger did as she had promised Haley and spent half the evening dancing with every available gentleman who was willing, but not Chief Inspector Reed. It came to a point when he was among the few left who had not asked her to dance. Ginger was tempted to harbour offence at this slight. She found herself seeking him out in the room despite her current dancing partner, and chastised herself for this weakness, even though she found that the chief inspector was doing the same. It was quite ridiculous how they both pretended to ignore each other.

  Eventually he crossed the room and asked for a dance. She held up a gloved hand and obliged.

  “You’ve been quite busy on your feet tonight, Mrs. Gold. I hope you still have a morsel of energy left to spare for me?”

  “I believe I do, Chief Inspector.”

  Ginger placed her hand on Basil Reed’s shoulder as he gently placed one of his on her upper back. Their alternate hands joined, and Basil Reed expertly waltzed her across the ballroom floor.

  “Have you gotten any further on the case, Chief Inspector Reed?” Ginger asked.

  “You certainly get right to the point,” he said. He hesitated as if he was wrestling with himself, whether he should share his findings with her, and in the end, he relented.

  “I interviewed Miss Patty Applebalm, and she revealed to me that she is not only Miss Guilford’s assistant, but is also related by blood. Miss Guilford is her sister’s daughter.”

  “I had guessed as much.” Ginger didn’t feel it prudent to mention that she too had queried the woman.

  “Had you?”

  “Indeed. I perceived a familiarity between the two women that went beyond an employer and her employee. It was natural to assume that there was a kinship somewhere.” On Basil Reed’s look of doubt, she added, “Miss Higgins can confirm my suspicions.”

  He inhaled, accepting Ginger’s explanation. “It seems that the Applebalm family were humble farmers in Eastern America. Apparently, Miss Guilford works hard to keep this fact out of the press.” He cocked his head. “Did you perceive that as well?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Ginger said. “I am a good study of character, but I have yet to master mind reading.”

  “I’m relieved to hear that, Mrs. Gold. I was beginning to think that you were some kind of mystical creature and not flesh and blood.”

  Ginger broke into her sprightly laugh. “There is nothing to fear there, my dear Chief Inspector. I am as human as you are.”

  “Yet above average, I would say. I regret that I must confess to having made inquiries about you.” As an afterthought, he added, “As I have with all my suspects.”

  Ginger pulled back and stared into Basil Reed’s eyes. “Oh?”

  “It seems that you have more skills than you let on. Skills that came in handy during the war.”

  Ginger kept her expression blank. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “It seems that even Scotland Yard can’t access the total of your files. Your activities were quite confidential.”

  Ginger smiled playfully. “I feel you have me mistaken for someone else. My task during the war was simple. I operated the telephone switchboard in France, nothin
g more.”

  Basil Reed didn’t respond. They swirled around the floor in silence until the song ended. Ginger couldn’t be sure just how much the chief inspector knew about her covert activities during the war, but that was no longer her concern. She kept her side of the bargain by remaining silent.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After so much exuberant dancing, Ginger felt the need to soothe her throat with a drink of sparkling water. She returned to the table where she’d left her feather boa and her silver-studded handbag, and while partaking of the water found there, she spotted a small piece of plain white notepaper sticking out from underneath the clutch. Her skin grew cool as she read it.

  Ginger scoured the room. Who could the messenger be?

  Nancy Guilford was dancing with yet another new partner. Ginger had been so engrossed in her conversation with Basil Reed she hadn’t noticed if Nancy Guilford stepped off the dance floor. It wouldn’t have taken much for her to slip the note to Ginger on her way to visiting the ladies’ room.

  Other potentially guilty parties in the dance hall were Chief Officer MacIntosh, and Babineaux, who oversaw the refreshments. Mrs. Walsh, of course, was missing, as her presence as a recent widow would be scandalous. That didn’t mean that she might not have taken a peek inside, possibly even asked one of the waiters to deliver the note for her.

  As Ginger stood there considering, she felt as if she was being watched. Her first assumption was Basil Reed, but a glance in his direction saw him dancing with another woman, his attention fixed on her. Then her eyes landed back on Babineaux, who stared at her unabashedly. Was he signalling to her that he left the note?

  She grabbed her clutch and made a trip to the lavatory. As she checked her hair and lipstick, she wondered how to get back into the pantry where the body was found. Ginger couldn’t help feeling that she was missing an important piece to the puzzle. Maybe there was something she had missed. Everything had happened so fast on the day of the captain’s murder, and the room had been full of people. If she could get in there to see it for herself without distraction, and let her mind work, maybe it would come to her. Ginger made her way to her table, but halfway there, she turned on her heel. Walking back to the ladies’ room as if she had forgotten something, she made a detour just as she got to the door, and instead, exited the ballroom.

  With the ball keeping most of the crew and staff occupied, Ginger sneaked to the kitchen below. When she reached the level of the pantries, it occurred to her that they might be locked. She came to the dry pantry first and checked the door. It opened easily, perhaps kept unlocked for convenience’s sake. The door to the cool pantry was also unlocked. She flicked the light switch and stepped inside. Shivering, she hugged her boa and her clutch to her chest.

  The near-empty shelves had only enough supplies to last one more day. Along the back were the barrels—the one where the captain was found was dismantled and set up against the wall. A string of rope marked off the crime scene. The scuff marks on the floor remained, but it wasn’t clear if they belonged to the kitchen crew or to the intruders.

  Ginger wasn’t sure what she thought she might find there, but nothing obvious popped out. She turned away with a measure of disappointment. Heading to the door, she stuttered to a stop. The entrance was blocked.

  Ginger took a step back, holding a hand to her heart. “Monsieur Babineaux, you frightened me.”

  Babineaux furrowed his bushy brows. “What are you doing here, Mrs. Gold?”

  His dark eyes were fully dilated in the dim light, making him look sinister. Was Ginger looking into the black, beady eyes of a killer?

  “I was just considering the case,” she said. “I thought maybe I overlooked a clue in the pantry, but I’ve failed to discover anything new.”

  Babineaux took a step closer, further blocking her exit. Ginger was smart enough to feel a modicum of fear, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. “Did you leave me the note?”

  The cook’s eyes flickered. “I know of no note.”

  Ginger stared back. He was either lying or protecting someone.

  “It ees dangerous to wander around the ship alone, no?” Babineaux said. “You must be aware that you are trespassing.”

  The shadows from the nearby bulb cast eerie, ominous lines across Babineaux’s face. Ginger regretted not putting her revolver in her clutch bag, though at the time she was getting ready for the dance, such precautions seemed unnecessary. If she was to die now at the hands of Babineaux because she’d forgotten the revolver, Daniel would be so disappointed in her.

  Ginger shaped her fingers and thumb to resemble a pistol and pressed them against her small handbag. She held Babineaux’s gaze.

  “I believe it is in your best interest to allow me to pass.”

  Babineaux’s eyes flickered to her hand, his face registering understanding.

  “You Americans think the answer for everything ees a gun.”

  “Sometimes it is.”

  Ginger’s bluff worked, and Babineaux stepped aside. Ginger kept a wide berth, stayed out of arm’s reach, and rushed down the corridor stairs.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ginger hurried back to the upper deck, letting out a breath of relief as she got farther away from Babineaux. She’d checked over her shoulder several times to ensure he hadn’t followed her.

  Unlike when she’d left the ball to journey down to the pantry, passengers now filled the corridors and streamed past her. Had the dance ended already?

  Ginger sensed there was something more drastic going on. The facial expressions weren’t those of folks who’d just enjoyed a pleasant evening of dance, drink, and socialisation. Worry and distress seemed to weigh the crowd down. She observed Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild.

  “What’s happening?” Ginger asked them.

  Mrs. Fairchild answered with high-pitched anxiety. “Officer MacIntosh put an end to the dance because we’re heading into a storm. He wants everyone to return to their rooms. It’s quite dreadful!”

  Her husband reassured her. “Now, now, dear. The good fellow said it was just a precaution for our own safety.” He looked at Ginger as if he feared he’d have to comfort another hysterical woman. “It’s a light storm, soon to pass.”

  Ginger reined in her shock at hearing the man’s voice. Things must be quite dire for him to feel the need to speak up.

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Ginger said. Her stomach clenched at the news, and she wasted no time returning to Haley and Boss. Indeed, the wind had picked up tremendously, blowing ocean spray onto the outdoor corridor. Rain quickly grew from a drizzle to heavy droplets.

  “You’re back early,” Haley said when Ginger arrived. “I thought these kinds of things went well into the wee hours of the morning.” Then, before Ginger could respond, she stared at her soaked gown. “What happened to you?”

  “Officer MacIntosh shut down the dance because of an imminent storm. It’s pouring outside.”

  “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

  That didn’t surprise Ginger. Haley tuned out the world when she was lost in her studies.

  Ginger removed her wet clothing and replaced her gown with a simple day dress. Though it was late enough to put on one’s nightclothes, Ginger didn’t feel it would be prudent with a storm brewing. One didn’t know what would happen or whom one might meet.

  “How bad is it?” Haley enquired.

  “I wasn’t actually in the ballroom when the announcement was made. I was informed by Mr. Fairchild that it’s not serious, and everyone being sent to their rooms was just a precaution.”

  Haley lifted her chin. “Wouldn’t want to risk anyone accidentally falling overboard.”

  Ginger checked the lock on the door to ensure it was secure. “The storm could provide an opportunity for someone to dispose of an inconvenient acquaintance.”

  “Are you worried about your own safety?” Haley asked.

  “It never hurts to be cautious. Something unnerving occurred this evening between myself an
d Babineaux.”

  Haley leaned forwards. “Do tell.”

  Ginger recounted the incident with the cook in the cool pantry.

  “You should’ve come for me first,” Haley said with a frown. “You could quite easily be shark food by now if he hadn’t fallen for your pistol bluff.”

  “From what I could tell, the kitchen staff was occupied with the dance buffet,” Ginger explained. “I honestly thought I could slip in, look around, and be out again in minutes. Babineaux must’ve been watching my movements and followed me.”

  “Highly suspicious.”

  Before Ginger could reply, the ship swayed, and Haley’s books slid off the table. Boss’s head perked up, and he let out a soft howl.

  “It’s okay, Bossy.” Ginger placed him on her lap and snuggled his face, finding comfort in his soft fur.

  Haley retrieved her books, returning them to the table just as the ship banked on the other side, sending her books in the other direction. “I think we should batten down the hatches,” she said, collecting the stray books for a second time and locking them in one of the drawers in the sideboard. “At least the candlesticks are secured.”

  “Do you mind putting my shoes away?” Ginger said. “I don’t want to let go of Boss.”

  Haley picked up the shoes and locked them in the wardrobe while stating, “Would hate to get hit in the head with one of these heels.”

  Again, the ship lurched sharply, and the tower of hat boxes in the corner tumbled over, showering Ginger’s hats over the room. She cringed at the sight of all her beloved headwear strewn across the floor, unprotected. Before she could gather them up, the ship rocked violently again.

  “Hang on!” Haley said.

  Ginger held Boss tightly to her chest as she desperately clung to the brass railing that was secured to the wall.

  The electric lights blew, casting them into darkness.

  Oh, mercy!

  The storm experience was reminiscent of her voyage in 1918 from Port du Le Havre to Boston Harbor. The ship had hit bad weather mid-Atlantic and tossed Ginger about her room, damaging her arm. She had been certain she was about to join her husband in heaven. Her stomach had heaved so mightily that she was thankful for the opportunity to act unladylike into a bucket. Thinking about it now made her brow break into a sweat. Ginger had faced many dangers in the past, but none frightened her as much as the thought of death by drowning.