Lady Gold Investigates

by Lee Strauss

  “Thank you so much for visiting,” Miss Maxwell said. She accompanied them into the hall. “I am excited about your forthcoming event.”

  “One of the ladies from the shop will be in touch with you about the date of the party,” Ginger said. “It will also be advertised in the papers so I am sure it will be well attended.”

  As they went down in the lift, Felicia said, “She seems like a very nice lady, wouldn’t you say? Hardly a candidate for shoplifting.”

  “She’s hiding something, I’m afraid,” said Ginger simply.

  Chapter Six

  “The next lady to interview is Mrs. Penelope Carter,” Ginger said as she sat in Emma’s chair in front of the sketching desk at Feathers & Flair. The shop had been busy all afternoon, and it was the first chance she had had to continue with the case. Looking at her staff as they gathered around her she asked, “Have we had any telephone calls or visits from our Inspector Sanders yet?”

  “Non,” Madame Roux said. “We have been waiting for heem to call me, I mean … us, but so far zere eez nothing.”

  “I rang Mrs. Carter,” Felicia said, “and we can visit her anytime this afternoon. She’s very excited about the dress giveaway.”

  “Jolly good.” Ginger rose and headed for the velvet curtain. “We might as well get to it straightaway.”

  A soft tapping on the glass of the front door caught their attention. Boss looked up from his basket with a soft “woof”.

  “Oh, that could be zee inspector now!” Madame Roux said. She straightened her frock and adjusted her hair as she stepped through the thick curtain.

  “Oh,” Madame Roux said as she opened the door. “Mrs. Carter?”

  Mrs. Penelope Carter smiled warmly as she walked into the shop. She was a petite lady with white hair, and had a joyful expression on her face. She wore a flowing yellow chiffon dress with a thick ribbon around the waist, and though lovely, the frock had gone out of fashion since the war. Her bright grey eyes twinkled as she took in the four surprised ladies standing before her.

  “Can we help you with something?” Dorothy said. “We have actually closed for the day.”

  “Oh, so sorry,” Mrs. Carter said. “Sometimes the time does get away from me. I was hoping to look for a new scarf today, or perhaps one of those cloche hats.” Ginger and Felicia shared a look. The snug brimless hat was very popular among the flapper crowd but not the usual choice for ladies of Mrs. Carter’s advanced age.

  “I will attend Mrs. Carter today,” Ginger said to her staff. “You can see to the counting of the receipts and cleaning up.” The women all looked at one another questioningly but then dispersed to go about their duties.

  “Now then, Mrs. Carter,” Ginger began, “would you like to talk about the frock giveaway that Miss Gold rang you about, or would you like to shop first?”

  “A frock giveaway? You mean to say you’re giving away a frock? How exciting! Maybe I’ll just pick out the frock now? Charles always likes it when I bring home something new to wear.”

  “I’m afraid the dress is to be given away at a special event we are having soon, Mrs. Carter. Your name is one of three that is to be considered. I’m certain Miss Gold explained this to you on the telephone earlier?”

  “I don’t really like the telephone contraption. Usually my son George answers it or his wife, Mildred.” Her smile was as sweet as a spring morning and her eyes twinkled like a little child’s as she looked up at Ginger.

  “So you didn’t talk to Miss Gold at all?”

  Mrs. Carter just nodded her head to indicate yes, but then she said, “I do like to talk on the telephone. I am sure if your daughter rang me we would have a wonderful chat.”

  Ginger felt a frisson of alarm. Mrs. Carter was making no sense at all.

  “Miss Gold is actually my sister-in-law,” Ginger said, “not my daughter.” Besides, she and Felicia were only a mere nine and a half years apart. Ginger tried not to feel slighted.

  Mrs. Carter furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

  “Did you say Charles likes it when you buy a new frock?” Ginger asked, hoping to keep Mrs. Carter’s mind on track.

  “Charles, yes, my husband. He’s not exactly a fashion enthusiast, but he does appreciate a beautiful hat or an evening gown.”

  Ginger remembered that Mr. Carter was supposed to have died a long time ago.

  “If I can’t bring home a frock today,” Mrs. Carter said, “maybe I can surprise him with a nice scarf.”

  Ginger allowed Mrs. Carter to browse the scarf rack whilst she moved to where Emma was standing by the cash register. “Can I please have the phone number for the home of Mrs. Carter?”

  “Certainly.”

  Felicia joined the ladies. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

  “No, not really a problem,” Ginger replied, “but I think I had better ring her son. You didn’t by any chance speak to him or his wife, Mildred, on the telephone earlier?”

  “No, Mrs. Carter answered the phone,” Felicia said. “I didn’t speak to anyone else.”

  “I see.” It was starting to make sense to Ginger now. She dialled the operator and asked to be put through to the number. Mr. George Carter answered.

  “Oh, that’s where she’s got to,” he said. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Reed. I know you are probably already closed for the day. We live only a few streets from your shop and she loves to stroll over there and browse your collections. She is… er, getting very forgetful these days and I don’t know how much longer we can let her go out on her own. I want her to enjoy her life while she can.”

  “It’s not a problem,” Ginger said. “The ladies here know her well, and in fact they are quite fond of her.”

  Ginger had just completed the call when Mrs. Carter, sporting a new French scarf over her shoulder, walked breezily past the dumbfounded ladies standing at the cash register. “Thank you, ladies. Ta-ta.” She gave them a little wave and another sweet smile and stepped out onto the street.

  “Mrs. Carter,” Emma shouted. “You forgot to…”

  “It’s all right,” Ginger said. Emma and Felicia stared at her. Ginger dialled the Carter residence again.

  “I’m afraid your mother’s just walked out of the shop with a new scarf, Mr. Carter. It appears it must have slipped her mind to pay for the item.”

  “Oh no,” Mr. Carter said. “I do apologise. Mother doesn’t do things like that as a rule, only once before actually, at a milliner’s shop down the street. However, since then I can assure you that our entire staff here have strict instructions to check receipts for any new item she brings home. I’ll come into your shop first thing in the morning to pay for the scarf.” He sighed into the telephone. “It does seem that she will have to be accompanied now whenever she goes out. This incident convinces me of that.”

  “By any chance did she come home yesterday with a large fox stole?”

  “No, Mrs. Reed,” Mr. Carter said. “We would’ve noticed something like that.”

  Ginger hung up the receiver and said, “That narrows it down for us a bit. Mr. Carter’s quite certain Mrs. Penelope Carter didn’t arrive home wearing a fox stole. One of us would’ve noticed if she’d walked out of the front door with it wrapped around her shoulders, anyway.”

  “The poor dear,” Emma said.

  “Yes, the family has some difficult times ahead of them, I’m afraid,” Ginger said with empathy.

  “That leaves Lady Hastings,” Felicia said. “Shall we call on her next?”

  Chapter Seven

  The home of Lady Hastings was a small manor just outside Twickenham. Ginger, along with Boss and Felicia, drove through the stone gateway and up the short carriage drive to the grey stone building. Ginger guessed it had been built in the late Georgian era and had been added on to by a Victorian owner. Although it had certainly been updated since then, the whole place had a tired ambience, as if the current renovation needs, such as new paint on the window frames, were being ignored.

  After instructing B
oss to stay in the car, Ginger and Felicia were met at the door by an ancient man with a deeply lined face and wearing a butler’s suit. He led them through a grand hall that featured a beautiful marble floor and a small chandelier. His movements seemed slow and painful and so it took a considerable amount of time for the trio to arrive at the door of a large, tastefully appointed sitting room.

  Lady Hastings rose to meet them. “How do you do, Mrs. Reed.”

  “How do you do.” Ginger motioned towards Felicia. “Of course, you know my sister-in-law, Miss Gold,” she said.

  “Yes, we have had a few conversations at the shop.” Lady Hastings smiled at Felicia.

  Lady Hastings looked to be in her mid-forties, although it was possible she was younger. Her eyes were fashionably made up with thinly plucked, arched eyebrows, dark eye shadow, and blackened lashes, but instead of adding a note of beautification, the makeup served to highlight the fact that her eyes were bloodshot. Ginger pretended not to notice the hint of sherry on the lady’s breath.

  Above the fireplace hung a large portrait of a distinguished-looking middle-aged man who was dressed in the uniform of a colonel in the British Army. Ginger gazed at the painting thoughtfully. Though the man was older than Ginger’s late husband had been when he died, she immediately thought of Daniel, Lord Gold. How handsome he had looked in his uniform! A war widow herself, Ginger understood all too well the process of grieving and the toll it could take.

  “He died in the First Battle of the Marne,” Lady Hastings said.

  “That was at the very beginning of the war. A terrible battle.” Ginger said. “My husband was killed in Belgium near the end.”

  “I didn’t know you were a war widow,” Lady Hastings said. “But of course, that is why you are also known as Lady Gold.”

  “Yes, Lord Gold was Miss Gold’s brother,” Ginger said, nodding at her sister-in-law.

  Lady Hastings looked at Felicia. “Oh, of course. I’m so sorry for your loss.” The three ladies stared at the portrait, taking a minute of silence as if to pay homage to the fallen of the war and to those they had left behind. It was a small moment of shared remembrance and loss between the three ladies.

  It could take a lifetime to escape the spectre of war, thought Ginger.

  The ancient butler tottered in with a tea tray. Lady Hastings poured then said, “Now then, tell me more about this terrific event at Feathers & Flair.”

  After Ginger had given all the details of the party and the frock giveaway, Lady Hastings simply blinked at her and sipped her tea demurely. A far more restrained response then Miss Maxwell had given, Ginger thought. However, judging from the slight flush of colour that appeared on their hostess’ cheeks and the upward tug of the corners of her mouth, she was equally excited about the opportunity.

  Ginger watched Lady Hastings as she placed her teacup on its saucer with a noticeable shaking of her hands.

  “When you set the date for the event,” Lady Hastings started, “I would be glad to come, and I am happy that I’ve been chosen as one of the three finalists. I already have a large collection of ensembles as you can imagine, but your shop always has some surprising designs.”

  “If you don’t mind, we would like to ask a few questions to find out more about why you like to patronise our shop,” Ginger said. “It’s a way for us to know what our customers prefer, and the answers may have a bearing on what we order in the future.”

  “Certainly. Delighted to be of help.”

  “Who are your favourite designers?” Felicia asked.

  “I must include your Miss Miller on any list of designers,” Lady Hastings said. “She really has got a flair for elegance and somehow carries that into even her more simple creations. I have bought two of her dresses. Then there are, of course, Coco Chanel and Jean Patou. Jean Patou in particular has his very own unique view of fashion that I find refreshing.”

  Ginger was pleased with her reference to Emma. “You are certainly familiar with the fashion trends of today, Lady Hastings,” she said. Jean Patou was not really mainstream but was considered among the most daring and brilliant designers in Europe. Feathers & Flair carried several of his creations.

  “When did you last buy a frock from us?” Felicia said. Although Ginger cringed inwardly at the boldness of the question, she carefully watched Lady Hastings for her reaction.

  Lady Hastings shifted uncomfortably in her chair and said, “I don’t know really, I guess it was a few months ago, I suppose. As I said, I already have a large collection.”

  Ginger noted the defensiveness in the words. There was also a slight quiver in the lady’s voice and a slight dilation of her pupils, as if she was afraid of something.

  “One has to show some restraint sometimes.” Lady Hastings gave a wan smile as she said this, but it disappeared quickly and was replaced by a more pensive expression as if she was deep in thought for a moment.

  “We have one particular display that Madame Roux is very proud of which features a large fox stole,” Ginger said. “Did you see it?”

  “I think so, yes. That is a more recent one, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. What do you think of it?” Ginger asked.

  Lady Hastings took a moment to sip her tea, as if she needed to answer this question carefully, then said, “I don’t mean to offend, but I don’t really like fur fashion. I know it’s very popular, but it seems slightly uncivilised to me to be wearing an animal around your neck.”

  “Some have said so,” offered Ginger. A very interesting response, she thought. Is she being truthful or clever? Lady Hastings’ facial expression was virtually unreadable but Ginger got the feeling that she wanted to say more about this subject and was holding back.

  “Miss West and Madame Roux have both remarked on the beautiful handbag they noticed you carrying the other day,” Ginger said. This time there was a definite look of panic that filled Lady Hastings’ eyes, though just for a brief moment.

  “Oh, that thing. It was a gift from an old friend. Nothing special but it does go with several of my suits. I carry it only very occasionally. It’s just an ordinary handbag.” She shook her head as if to say that this was a very unimportant topic.

  “How interesting,” Ginger said. “Would it be possible for us to see it? We’re considering offering certain lines of handbags at Feathers & Flair and I’d like to get an idea of what a lady like yourself would choose.”

  Ginger knew this was being very forward, but she felt very strongly that Lady Hastings wasn’t being completely truthful, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it.

  “Oh, er, well. I suppose that would be all right.” The look of reluctance in her eyes was unmistakable. She called out to the doorway from which they had entered. “Graves?”

  After a moment the butler appeared in the doorway. “Yes, madam?”

  “Could you please fetch my leather bag for me and hand it to Mrs. Reed? I think it’s in the morning room.” The butler bowed slightly and disappeared. He shuffled in a few minutes later carrying a large dark-brown leather handbag with a gold embossed frame and clasps. Ginger examined the exterior and noticed the name “Rafaelio” stamped underneath the bag. The word partially covered a discolouration defect in the leather.

  “Very luxurious,” Ginger said. “Do you mind if I take a glance inside?”

  Lady Hastings nodded weakly in response. “Of course not. It is empty at the moment.”

  Ginger opened the bag but did not dip her hand into it at all for fear of seeming too nosy. The bag was completely empty with no tell-tale signs of red fur, though it was definitely large enough to hide the stole in. “It seems very sturdy yet lightweight.” Ginger quickly closed the bag and handed it to Lady Hastings. “Tuscany leather is always so soft and durable.”

  “Yes,” Lady Hastings said, looking slightly bewildered.

  Ginger stood up to leave. “I think we have taken up entirely too much of your time. I thank you, Lady Hastings. Someone from the shop will be in touch to inform you
of the date.”

  “I look forward to that,” Lady Hasting said.

  “That was interesting,” Felicia said as they climbed back into the Crossley. Boss stood up from where he had been fast asleep on the leather seat, yawning and stretching. “I think she was a bit nervous during parts of that interview.”

  “As with Miss Maxwell, all is not as it seems at first glance,” Ginger said as she put the vehicle into gear. “That lady has some secrets.”

  “Why did you ask to see her handbag? Were you hoping that the stole was still inside it?”

  “That would have been too easy. No, I was going on a hunch I have had since Inspector Sanders came to our shop. He happened to mention some items that were stolen recently. One was a large Italian leather bag.”

  Felicia’s eyes widened. ”But how would we even know it was the same bag? There are many different types of Italian leather bags, even ones that size.”

  “Inspector Sanders mentioned that the bag was stolen from a display case and that it was on sale for half price.”

  “I’m not sure I follow you.”

  “Shop owners will sometimes reduce the price of articles that have a small perceived defect on them. Something that the manufacturer either didn’t think would be an issue or that went unnoticed by both maker and shop buyer.” She looked over at Felicia. “Lady Hastings’ Rafaelio bag has a defect on the bottom. It’s time to call the police.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ginger pulled the Crossley directly in front of Feathers & Flair and braked to a sudden stop to park it. Felicia, even though she should have been used to Ginger’s driving by now, still seemed a little bit shaken from the short trip; she had been clutching her hat to her head the entire way, probably for fear of it blowing out of the window. Boss, of course, had loved every minute of the trip, as usual.

  As they climbed out of the car, Ginger noticed a taxicab driver arguing with a distraught young woman across the street. Upon looking closer, she recognised her as Lizzie’s sister Betsy, Miss Maxwell’s maid.