by Lee Strauss
Except for a butler. Pips was irreplaceable.
Ambrosia addressed Ginger’s unspoken concern. “Wilson was due to retire at the end of the month anyway, and Phyllis is getting married in the spring. Mrs. Beasley and Langley could come, I suppose. And Clement. Goodness knows Hartigan House is in need of a competent gardener.”
“Great!” Ginger said. “Then it’s settled.”
The door to the restaurant opened, and a familiar voice rang out warmly, “I know this is a private function, but I hope you will let me say a few words before I go.”
Ginger’s gaze latched onto Basil. “Of course,” she said civilly. “Come in.”
Basil approached the table, hat in hand, and looked at Felicia. “I do want to apologize for the trouble I put you through, Miss Felicia.”
Felicia’s lips trembled, but she managed a small smile. “I understand that you were just doing your job, Chief Inspector.”
Ginger couldn’t help but snort. She’d told Basil he was making a mistake when he arrested Felicia. That Felicia was innocent. Her sister-in-law’s trauma could’ve been avoided.
Basil was insightful enough to pick up on how Ginger was feeling. “I hope that you can forgive me, Lady Gold, for not taking your word.”
Ginger softened. It wasn’t often that a man would admit publicly that he’d been wrong. And Ginger wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. She sighed. “As Felicia has already said, you were simply doing your job.”
Basil nodded and put his trilby hat back on his head. “I’ll leave you now.” His eyes settled on Ginger. “Please let me know if there is anything more you need.”
The women remained silent until the chief inspector had gone.
Haley leaned into Ginger. “You’re rather hard on him.”
Ginger groaned inwardly. She was rather hard on herself. It was better this way. She and Basil weren’t friends. Circumstances had put them in a close working relationship—that was all it was. Close quarters had simulated an intimacy that wasn’t real. Besides, even though Basil had agreed to divorce his wife, Ginger knew that he was still in love with her.
And she was still in love with another, as well.
Chapter Thirty-Three
It took a few days before everything was settled. Ginger would drive Ambrosia to London in the Humber later that day, while Haley and Felicia along with Clement, Langley and Mrs. Beasley—who’d agreed to relocate—took the train. What they could salvage of their belongings would be shipped over later.
Ginger pulled the Humber to a halt in front of the Bray Manor ruins. It had been taped off to warn off looters and the curious; the grand blackened hall appeared starkly defeated against the grey sky.
She stepped out and walked around the charred remains to the lake behind. The damage to the house was worse from the back. The bricks darkened with soot, windows blown out with shattered glass on the ground beneath, the roof sunken and collapsing in parts. Ginger swallowed a lump, fighting against the emotion that had been building all morning, knowing what she had to do.
Ginger climbed into the rowing boat, gingerly settled onto the wooden seat at the back, and tucked the skirt of her black crepe de Chine dress under her legs. Lifting the oars, she carefully placed them into the water and rowed.
The paddles lapped gently through the waves and with each strong pull, the boat glided closer to her mark.
With each strong pull she glided closer to her grief.
It didn’t fully hit her until she reached the small cemetery and located his grave. It was easy to spot—the gravestone was new and clean, and taller than the rest; the flowerbed in the foreground well-tended.
Felicia’s charity.
Etched in delicate script were the words:
Daniel, Lord Gold
7th April , 1891 - 2nd October , 1918
Loving son, grandson,
brother, and husband.
Ginger fell to her knees and freely wept. There was no one around to judge her, no one to stop her.
Until today, until this, it was easy to pretend that Daniel was just “away,” to return someday. Now she had to face the facts; her Daniel was dead. He was never coming home.
She could still hear his voice in her head, warm as honey and gentle as a bubbling brook. Someday, Ginger, this war will be over and we can settle down—Boston or London—you pick. Perhaps then the children will come.
“I chose London, love,” she whispered. There’d be no children. That was something she’d accepted long ago, even before Daniel had died.
Further down on the tombstone were these words of comfort:
“And God will wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying nor pain; for the former things are passed away.” Rev. 21:4
Behind her was the sound of a motorcar pulling into the entrance of the small graveyard. She frowned at the taxicab—who on earth? Then she recognized the passenger, a curly-haired brunette, wearing a tweed suit and sensible Oxford shoes. Ginger wiped her eyes as she watched Haley strolling towards her, Boss at her heels.
Neither of them spoke as Haley put a consoling arm around Ginger’s shoulders and Boss whimpered at her feet. Ginger hadn’t felt the cold until now. She scooped up her pet and held him close as she pressed into Haley’s embrace. They stood there in silence.
“He was a very good man,” Ginger finally said.
Haley hummed in agreement. “I wish I could’ve known him.”
Ginger set Boss on the ground and watched him chase a squirrel as if he hadn’t a care in the world. How she envied that. She crossed her arms over her chest as if the act itself could hold in the tidal wave of emotion that threatened to burst through.
“I’m so torn, Haley. I loved him very much—still love him, but I feel . . .”
“That it might be time to say goodbye?”
“Would that be awful?”
Ginger’s normally perfectly coiffed hair fell over one eye and Haley gently pushed it behind Ginger’s ear.
“Oh, honey. It’s not awful. Daniel would want you to. He’d want you to be happy. You owe it to him to be happy.”
“Because I lived?”
“Because you lived.”
A greylag goose skidded across the south shore of Livingston Lake, its orange beak disappearing under the slate-coloured surface as it nabbed its morning minnow. Joined by its mate, the two of them floated along squawking amiably as if they were discussing the news over breakfast tea.
Ginger’s mind went to Basil Reed. Maybe it was time to put the picture of Daniel away.
“You’ve got awfully quiet,” Haley said. “Are you all right?”
Ginger smiled softly. “Yes. I think I am.”
* * *
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Don’t miss Murder at Feather’s and Flair!
Espionage, intrigue . . . murder . . .
It’s 1924 and war widow fashionista, Ginger Gold’s new Regent Street dress shop, Feathers & Flair, is the talk of the London fashion district attracting aristocrats from Paris to Berlin to Russia.
Ginger is offered her first job as a private detective when a well-known stage actor goes missing, and though the dress shop takes most of her time, Ginger takes the case.
But when a Russian duchess dies at the shop’s official Grand Opening event, Ginger ignores the missing person to chase a Killer. It's a decision she will live to regret.
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Or SAVE when you buy the next 2 book bundle!
Includes Murder at Feathers & Flair and Murder at the Mortuary.
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More from Lee
Strauss
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GINGER GOLD MYSTERY SERIES (cozy 1920s historical)
Cozy. Charming. Filled with Bright Young Things. This Jazz Age murder mystery will entertain and delight you with its 1920s flair and pizzazz!
Murder on the SS Rosa
Murder at Hartigan House
Murder at Bray Manor
Murder at Feathers & Flair
Murder at the Mortuary
Murder at Kensington Gardens
Murder at St. George’s Church
Murder Aboard the Flying Scotsman
Murder at the Boat Club
Murder on Eaton Square
Murder by Plum Pudding
Murder on Fleet Street
Murder at Brighton Beach
LADY GOLD INVESTIGATES (Ginger Gold companion short stories)
Volume 1
Volume 2
Volume 3
HIGGINS & HAWKE MYSTERY SERIES (cozy 1930s historical)
The 1930s meets Rizzoli & Isles in this friendship depression era cozy mystery series.
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(1950s cozy historical)
Murder at High Tide
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A NURSERY RHYME MYSTERY SERIES(mystery/sci fi)
Marlow finds himself teamed up with intelligent and savvy Sage Farrell, a girl so far out of his league he feels blinded in her presence - literally - damned glasses! Together they work to find the identity of @gingerbreadman. Can they stop the killer before he strikes again?
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THE PERCEPTION TRILOGY (YA dystopian mystery)
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LIGHT & LOVE (sweet romance)
Set in the dazzling charm of Europe, follow Katja, Gabriella, Eva, Anna and Belle as they find strength, hope and love.
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Ginger Gold’s Journal
Sign up for Lee’s readers list and gain access to Ginger Gold’s private Journal. Find out about Ginger’s Life before the SS Rosa and how she became the woman she has. This is a fluid document that will cover her romance with her late husband Daniel, her time serving in the British secret service during World War One, and beyond. Includes a recipe for Dark Dutch Chocolate Cake!
It begins: July 31, 1912
How fabulous that I found this Journal today, hidden in the bottom of my wardrobe. Good old Pippins, our English butler in London, gave it to me as a parting gift when Father whisked me away on our American adventure so he could marry Sally. Pips said it was for me to record my new adventures. I’m ashamed I never even penned one word before today. I think I was just too sad.
This old leather-bound journal takes me back to that emotional time. I had shed enough tears to fill the ocean and I remember telling Father dramatically that I was certain to cause flooding to match God’s. At eight years old I was well-trained in my biblical studies, though, in retro-spect, I would say that I had probably bordered on heresy with my little tantrum.
The first week of my “adventure” was spent with a tummy ache and a number of embarrassing sessions that involved a bucket and Father holding back my long hair so I wouldn’t soil it with vomit.
I certainly felt that I was being punished for some reason. Hartigan House—though large and sometimes lonely—was my home and Pips was my good friend. He often helped me to pass the time with games of I Spy and Xs and Os.
“Very good, Little Miss,” he’d say with a twinkle in his blue eyes when I won, which I did often. I suspect now that our good butler wasn’t beyond letting me win even when unmerited.
Father had got it into his silly head that I needed a mother, but I think the truth was he wanted a wife. Sally, a woman half my father’s age, turned out to be a sufficient wife in the end, but I could never claim her as a mother.
Well, Pips, I’m sure you’d be happy to know that things turned out all right here in America.
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Feathers & Flair
Chapter One
“You’re a thief!”
The thief stepped forwards and replied, “Exactly. And you, madam? The mistress of the house, I presume. Or are you a thief as well?”
With a white-gloved hand Ginger Gold held the programme up in the dim light of the Abbott Theatre, an older establishment on Shaftesbury Avenue.
The thief was played by Angus Green, a handsome man, tall with a confidence that radiated from the stage. Ginger doubted his aplomb was only attributed to acting. He was young and had a determination about him. Probably new to theatre, Ginger thought—she hadn’t heard his name before.
The one-act play written by a Mr. Stuart Walker was called Sham, and Ginger’s sister-in-law, Felicia, had landed the lead female role of Clara.
“What have you taken?” Felicia’s enunciation was loud and with proper indignation. “Give it to me instantly! How dare you?” She gestured to the actor standing next to her. “Charles, take it away from him.”
Haley Higgins, Ginger’s American friend and housemate, leaned in and whispered in her Bostonian accent, “Felicia has pluck.”
Ginger agreed. On the stage and in real life, if truth be told.
Charles, according to the programme, was played by a blond man named Geordie Atkins. He was shorter and stouter than the attractive thief and a good deal older if you could go by his receding hairline.
“I dare say, old man,” Geordie Atkins said, looking uncertain yet a little amused. “You’d better clear out.”
Ambrosia, the Dowager Lady Gold and Ginger’s grandmother through marriage, had not been a great supporter of her granddaughter’s interest in theatre. “A lot of simpletons looking to escape their responsibilities,” she’d stated. Yet, in the light filtering off the stage to their seats on the balcony, Ginger saw a smile and a glint in the older lady’s eye she’d almost say was pride.
There were only four characters in the play—the fourth was a reporter who appeared near the end. A man in his early thirties donning a moustache and spectacles had won the part. He wore a trilby hat and an overcoat that hung sloppily over drooped shoulders. Ginger examined her programme: Matthew Haines. Felicia had talked about her fellow actors often since joining the company, and Ginger was glad to put names to faces.
In the end, Felicia’s character conned the confidence man. When the curtain dropped, Ginger sprung to her feet in applause.
“Bravo! Bravo!”
The actors waited in the lobb
y to greet the members of the audience, who Ginger thought solemnly, were far too few. A jolly good number of seats had been unoccupied. Quite a shame since the performance was so charming.
“Felicia, darling!” Ginger said as she embraced her sister-in-law. “You were absolutely magnificent!”
Felicia had changed into a Jean Patou chiffon evening gown from Feather & Flair. It had three layers of fabric each a different shade of pink, and a dropped waist cummerbund-like sash. Felicia’s dark hair was perfectly coiffed with finger waves and decorated with a jewelled headpiece. The pink on her Clara Bow lips matched her dress. Ginger thought she rivalled any film star she’d ever seen.
Felicia held Ginger’s green-eyed gaze. “Thank you, Ginger! I’m so glad you came.”
A wayward strand of red hair escaped from Ginger’s bob. When she pushed it behind her ear, her dangling Cartier Paris emerald and diamond earrings swayed. She gushed, “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
Ambrosia allowed a quick hug from Felicia and begrudgingly admitted, “It was better than I expected, child. I do hope you have this folly out of your system now.”
Felicia’s smile lit up the lobby. “Oh, Grandmama! I’m so happy, even you cannot steal my joy tonight.”