Lady Gold Investigates

by Lee Strauss

  “Ladies, lucky for you that I’m just the man for this ’ere job,” he said with some swagger. “I’m well acquainted with this kind o’ perpetra’er, I am. You can rest assured you are as safe as fine ladies such as yourselves can be with me on the job.”

  He put away his notepad after taking down the pertinent details of the case. “This will likely become part o’ the general ongoin’ investigations into the series of shopliftin’ we’ve ’ad ’ere in London in the last few months.” He rocked back and forth on his heels while he clasped his hands behind his back. This caused his chest and stomach to extend outwards. Both Ginger and Dorothy involuntarily took a step backwards as if to escape any buttons that might suddenly pop off the inspector’s waistcoat.

  “You mean to say there have been other acts of thievery?” Ginger asked.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, madam, but we’ve ’ad complaints from shops of all kinds in the district ’ere. Seems like we might ’ave a sequential shoplifter prowlin’ the streets of our fine city.”

  “Oh my!’ gasped Madame Roux.

  “Not to worry, madam,” said the inspector as he turned to Madame Roux. “Me bein’ a member of London’s finest, I wouldn’t let no one dangerous come near your fine shop. Besides, no one has been hurt nor accosted, so this perpetra’er ain’t nothin’ o’ the violent kind it seems to me.”

  “So it hasn’t been dress shops only that have been targeted?” Ginger asked.

  “Dress shops, ’ats, shoes, anything to do with fineries and such. We got the best of the ’ole department workin’ on it, includin’ meself.” He lifted himself up onto his toes, dropped back down, and cleared his throat. “We thought we ’ad the thief last week but it turned out to be the shop manager’s nephew borrowin’ a pair o’ natty boots to impress his lady friend at a theatre performance. Now I’m not a married man meself, but if I was, I’m certain that Mrs. Sanders wouldn’t appreciate me tryin’ to impress her with a stolen article, if you know what I mean.” He gave a wink.

  “Oh my!” said Madame Roux again. Ginger glanced at her shop manager and had to look twice. Was Madame Roux fluttering her eyelashes?

  “Oh yes, that one ’ad us busy for an ’ole afternoon. Anyway, not to worry, ladies. Ole Inspector Sanders is on the case. You can rest assured we’ll find the culprit soon and ’opefully ’ave your fox back in the hunt so t’ speak.” He chuckled at his own witticism.

  Ginger couldn’t help but grin. “Have there been any robberies by this ‘sequential shoplifter’ that have occurred in our area?”

  “Last week,” Inspector Sanders said. “A couple of streets from ’ere a large leather ’andbag was stolen right off the display shelf. I don’t know much about ’andbags and things but I’m told this one was an expensive one designed by some Italian bloke, I think. It was on special for ’alf price the day it was stolen. There was also a pair of women’s leather gloves taken from another shop about a mile from ’ere and a straw ’at with fancy ribbons of some kind, as well.”

  “Goodness, the thief appears to have been very busy, and apparently has a wide palate for fashions,” Ginger remarked.

  “Apparently so,” the inspector replied, “I think that’s all for now. I thank you fine ladies for your ’elp.”

  Inspector Sanders donned his hat and stepped back out onto the street.

  “What a fine man!” said Madame Roux after the door closed behind him. “It makes me feel good to know zere is such a brave young officer protecting our streets and places of employment.” Ginger looked on in mild surprise while Madame Roux gazed out of the window to watch the decidedly middle-aged Inspector Sanders walk down the street, his lips pinched and his eyes bright as if he were whistling a merry tune. He was certainly not the type of man Ginger would have thought would catch Madame Roux’s eye.

  Chapter Four

  Before leaving the shop the night before, Madame Roux and Dorothy had come up with a list of three people that they could remember who fit the criteria of having not made a purchase, and who had come in carrying a large handbag. They had also sent a message to Emma to confirm that she had no additional names to add. As far as the three women could remember, there was no one that fit the criteria whose name they did not know.

  Ginger had asked her employees to come in for a meeting before the shop opened.

  “Even though I rang Inspector Sanders to let him know our suspicions,” Ginger said, “I wanted to let you know that I’m of the mind to start my own investigation.”

  “I imagine you’ll want to be your own client,” Emma said.

  “Precisely,” Ginger replied, “Why not put Lady Gold Investigations to work? And, to be frank, I would rather catch this thief myself than have the police confront the person at some high society party or some such thing. It’s not the kind of publicity I want for Feathers & Flair. I would much rather keep this quiet and discreet if we can.”

  Just then Felicia entered the shop. “Good morning, ladies,” she said breezily. Ginger had asked her to come in to help with the investigation. Felicia had already proven quite adept at helping Ginger in previous cases, and one involving fashion would be just the thing for her.

  “All right, let’s see,” Ginger said, pulling out her notepad as she slowly walked around the floor. “Our three prime suspects are regular customers here at the shop: Mrs. Penelope Carter, Lady June Hastings, and Miss Emily Maxwell. Now why does that last name sound slightly familiar to me?”

  “Emily Maxwell?” said Felicia. “The actress?”

  All four ladies turned to Felicia. She continued, “Why yes, I think I remember reading about her. She was in several successful musical theatre productions in the West End and in New York on Broadway years ago.”

  “I saw her film,” Dorothy said. “The Wonderful Life of Mrs. Woods.”

  “I didn’t know Miss Maxwell was an actress,” Emma said. “She’s come in for fittings on several occasions.”

  “What about our other two suspects?” Ginger said. “What do we know about Mrs. Penelope Carter?”

  “She comes in quite often,” Madame Roux said. “Zee lady eez in her mid-seventies if she eez a day. Her husband was a banker I believe, but he died a long time ago. She lives with her son and hees wife here in London. Last week she bought a dress right off zee rack and had a few alterations done. It was a leetle bit… eh, zee dress would have suited someone a beet younger perhaps.”

  “She has a huge handbag that she always comes in with too,” said Dorothy. “It is hard to miss because of the bright floral design with the gold, purple, and peach details and the faux-tortoiseshell frame. A person could easily fit our stole in that bag, though it’s hard to imagine Mrs. Carter doing that. She’s such a nice lady.” Emma and Madame Roux both nodded in agreement.

  “And what about Lady Hastings?” asked Ginger.

  “Also a widow,” Emma said, “but younger than Mrs. Carter. She often talks of her husband and of their estate near Twickenham. He died in the war, a colonel I believe.”

  “Yes, she bought three dresses here when the shop first opened,” Dorothy said. “She still comes in often, although she hasn’t bought anything for quite a while now. She must have an assortment of large handbags and tapestry bags because she seems to always have something different. All of them are very fashionable and expensive looking. She had a leather bag when she was in yesterday.”

  “Thank you for your help, ladies,” Ginger said. “Felicia and I will get to work on this. We will treat it as an official case for Lady Gold Investigation services. We will keep you informed.”

  “Will you simply confront the ladies?” Emma asked.

  “Oh no, that would be rude and far too direct,” Ginger said. “There are other ways of learning the truth.”

  “How do you plan on convincing these ladies to agree to be interviewed?” Madame Roux asked. “They ’ave no idea there eez a crime that ’as taken place.”

  “I have an idea about that,” Ginger said. “We’ll make it so ea
ch of these three ladies will be only too willing to have a visit from the owner of their favourite dress shop.”

  Chapter Five

  Miss Emily Maxwell lived in a classy area of London which was characterised by the recent trend of the rich, mostly those without children, of selling their country estates to move closer to the city. This enabled them to live in the more manageable space of a flat, allowing them to reduce the number of servants they needed while still keeping up the lifestyle that was expected of their class.

  “I’m very excited about meeting her,” Felicia said as they crossed the ornately decorated lobby of the block of flats and entered the lift to the fourth floor. “And to think she’s been in our shop numerous times and I haven’t recognised her.”

  As the lift started going up, Boss let out a soft “woof” and for a moment struggled to maintain his balance on the floor. He was not especially fond of lifts.

  “Sorry, Bossy,” Ginger said. “I should have carried you.” The lift was too narrow with the three of them plus the lift operator for her to bend down. Boss wagged his stump of a tail as the bell went off indicating they had reached their destination.

  Miss Maxwell opened the door with a slight flourish. “Why hello,” she said with a broad toothy smile. “What an honour this is to have Lady Gold come to visit me in my humble dwelling, and you too, Miss Gold.” The aging actress was dressed in a stylish pink and grey waistless frock with a two-tiered, fringed hem. Even though she looked to be in her early fifties, she was still an attractive and elegant lady. She carried herself well and had a presence about her that was unmistakable.

  The film star reached down to scratch Boss’ ears. “Welcome to you too. Such a handsome fellow.” She led them through a large hall and into a nicely decorated sitting room with a small fire burning in the fireplace, the coals just orange enough to drive out the afternoon chill. Tall windows overlooked the streets and afforded a very nice view of the surrounding area even though the day was a bit grey with rain clouds threatening. There was a pot of tea and a plate of chocolate biscuits on a small table. Ginger looked around for signs of a maid or some other member of staff but none was apparent at the moment.

  “You have a beautiful home,” Ginger said as they all sat down on the plush wing-backed chairs that were part of a matched set of furniture. Boss trotted over to the fireplace and lay down contentedly on the floor. Ginger noticed that the chairs and sofa were comfortable and of high quality but slightly worn in some places on the arms and backs, indicating either frequent usage or significant age, even if they were not noticeably out of style. There were two antique full-length mirrors in the room as well as a small standing screen for changing clothing, which Ginger thought was rather odd for a sitting room. Three dresses were draped over the screen as if someone had just tried them on. Ginger thought of the shoplifting incidents in London that Inspector Sanders had alluded to.

  “Yes. I’ve been living here now for almost a decade. I’m sure it pales in comparison to your Hartigan House, but I am quite happy here.”

  Miss Maxwell seemed to know a lot about Ginger, but she expected the lady spent a lot of time following the society pages, more than Ginger could claim doing.

  “It is the staff’s afternoon off,” Miss Maxwell added, sounding rather apologetic. “Except for my maid.”

  “I must say, though I am not completely familiar with your work,” Felicia said after a sip of tea, “I do have friends who are in theatre work in some way or another and they all speak highly of you.”

  “Why, thank you, Miss Gold. I am flattered.” Miss Maxwell raised her hand to her chest and smiled.

  “I‘ve even heard you compared to Gladys Cooper, the famous film star,” Felicia gushed. Ginger knew of Gladys Cooper. The beautiful young lady was a rising star in both film and theatre, and Ginger and Basil had attended a very successful play written by W. Somerset Maugham in which she had played the lead.

  “Oh my word, now that is stretching it a bit,” Miss Maxwell said with a laugh that Ginger thought was a bit forced and uncomfortable. “Gladys Cooper is young enough to be my daughter, though I suppose we do have some things in common.” She cleared her throat. “Now then, tell me about this event at your fine shop. Feathers & Flair is one of my favourites, you know.”

  “As I mentioned to you in my note,” Ginger said, “Feathers & Flair has had a wonderful opening year, and to celebrate we’ve decided to give away one of our ensembles to a loyal customer. What I haven’t told you yet is that each of the staff was asked to pick their top three favourites of our customers and put the names in a hat. Out of those names I picked at random the final three. Those three ladies will then be invited to our autumn celebration event where we will be unveiling our new models from Jeanne Lanvin, the famous French Haute Couture fashion designer. At the party, the final winner will be chosen and that person will be invited to choose any dress ensemble in the shop as a gift.”

  “Oh my, what fun!” Miss Maxwell said, clapping her hands together.

  “So we wanted to personally visit each of the final three to extend the invitation,” Ginger said.

  “You mean I was chosen?” Miss Maxwell said, her eyes bright with anticipation. Ginger and Felicia both nodded and smiled.

  “Oh my. What an honour! I must say you ladies have made my day today! And I love Miss Lanvin’s designs. She has such a flair for evening dresses. One of my absolute favourites!”

  “May I ask you a few questions, just to get a sense of why you frequent our shop?” Ginger asked. “I consider someone like you to be of very discerning taste and it would be valuable information to me to know what it is that keeps you coming back.”

  A little flattery often caused one to drop one’s guard and be more open in conversation. Ginger had a sense that Miss Maxwell particularly thrived on accolade.

  “Certainly!” Miss Maxwell said with obvious pleasure.

  “How often do you come into our shop?” Ginger watched the actress intently as she sipped her tea.

  “Oh, I try to come at least a few times a month.”

  “I am curious to know when the last time was.” Ginger said.

  “It was just the other day,” Miss Maxwell said.

  Ginger smiled encouragingly. “Were there any of our latest imports that caught your eye?”

  “Let me see. I tend to love the bolder colours. Especially from designers like Paul Poiret, oh, and Elsa Schiaparelli from Italy. You have several Italian designs from her in your shop.”

  “Yes, she seems to be highly influenced by Coco Chanel,” Ginger said. “How about our upper floor?”

  “There were some designs there that I liked too, of course,” Miss Maxwell said, “though I’m not keen on factory frocks. Forgive me, but they feel tawdry.”

  “It’s quite all right,” Ginger said. “It’s not an option appreciated by all.”

  “We have one ensemble on display that seems to be of particular popularity even though Madame Roux just put it up a few days ago,” Felicia said, jumping in. “I’m sure it will sell very quickly.”

  “Yes,” Ginger said, “I wonder if perhaps you’ve seen it, Miss Maxwell? It’s a Florrie Westwood ensemble on a fashion dummy display. We included a bright red fox stole as part of the ensemble.”

  “Hmm. No, I don’t believe I noticed that one,” Miss Maxwell said with a shake of her head. She reached out her hand and pulled the bell. “Would you ladies like more tea?”

  A young woman wearing a maid’s uniform entered the room. “Yes, Miss? Shall I bring more tea?”

  Miss Maxwell looked at Ginger and Felicia questioningly.

  Ginger smiled but shook her head. “We really should be going. We know how busy you must be.”

  “You may clear away then, Betsy,” Miss Maxwell said to the maid.

  The young woman looked familiar to Ginger. “You bear a strong resemblance to a maid in my service at Hartigan House,” she said. “Is your surname Weaver?”

  “Oh my, what a
coincidence,” Betsy said. She curtsied. “You must be Mrs. Reed! My sister Lizzie has told me so much about you and about Hartigan House.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet you,” Ginger said. “Lizzie has also mentioned you a few times to me. I’ll be sure to tell her that I met you in person.”

  “Thank you, madam.” Betsy smiled nervously, curtsied again, then left the room.

  “I had no idea that Betsy had a sister,” said Miss Maxwell, her eyebrows furrowed. “She’s a serious girl. Pleasant enough, I suppose.” Ginger noticed that she sounded a little disconcerted. Something about the exchange that had just happened did not sit well with the actress.

  Ginger nodded to Felicia and they both rose to leave.

  “Come along, Boss.”