by Strauss, Lee
Nancy’s eyes popped with disbelief. “Patty!”
“It’s true, they might as well know now. That despicable man didn’t even have the decency to take care of his own flesh and blood. He left them to fend for themselves.”
Elise Walsh collapsed against the sideboard. “I knew it!”
Nancy Guilford sank into her chair. Her secret was out. Ginger felt for her—unwed and unsupported, worried for the welfare of her child. No wonder she and the captain had words.
“Were you blackmailing Captain Walsh, Miss Applebalm?” the inspector asked. Though the scarf was snug around Ginger’s neck, she wasn’t in too much discomfort. She was willing to wait it out to get the full confession.
“I was and didn’t feel one bit bad for it. It was the only way to give the child a chance at a decent life. My niece might act rich, but believe me, it’s all a show. She gets paid pittance.”
Nancy let out a low spirit-wounded moan.
Patty Applebalm’s voice pitched higher. “He threatened to go to the police and confess all, to expose us. I went to his room to confront him and when Mrs. Walsh found us together …” Patty laughed manically. “She hit him out of jealousy. Jealousy! Can you believe that? As if I’d let that man touch a hair on my head! I just finished off what she started.”
“It was the last straw!” Elise Walsh bellowed. “I wouldn’t stand for another speck of humiliation from that man, whatever his reason for allowing you, you insipid cow, into his room.”
As if having an out of body experience, Ginger saw the scene from an objective stance. Defeated, Nancy slumped in the chair like a rag doll. Elise Walsh stood to the side and twitched like a trapped animal. The inspector and Haley blocked the door, calculating their next move as they watched Ginger and her captor. MacIntosh’s eyes darted from person to person, arms forward as if he could keep things from spiralling out of control with his mind.
Ginger had been in life-threatening situations before. France, in 1917, had been a place of constant fear. Her missions were dangerous, but she’d been trained to keep her cool. She had learned to gauge her odds in any given situation and discern the best move to keep her and those around her alive. Her throat burned in her effort to breathe, and stars formed around the edges of her vision.
Ginger wondered if Patty Applebalm knew the penalty for murder in England was hanging.
Miss Applebalm, sensing her own desperate situation, shouted, “Get out!" She tightened the scarf around Ginger's neck.
Ginger struggled, grabbing at her throat.
Haley panicked. “Do as she says!” She stepped backwards towards the door. Inspector Reed took a step toward Ginger just as Elise Walsh made a beeline for the door, but he caught her by the arm and held fast. Patty’s eyes were pinned on the activity as the inspector quickly clamped handcuffs on her nemesis.
Ginger took advantage of her captor’s distraction and swiftly elbowed Patty Applebaum in the stomach. Patty folded with a gasp, loosening her hold on Ginger. Ginger released the scarf from her neck and used it to bind Patty Applebalm’s hands behind her back.
Ginger looked over at Basil Reed and smiled. “I’m so glad you could make it, Inspector.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ginger presumed Elise Walsh’s guilt, but she wasn’t sure until the end if Nancy Guilford covered for Patty Applebalm or the other way around. When Mrs. Fairchild insisted that Miss Applebalm would do anything for Nancy, Ginger wondered if that included murder. Turned out it did.
Mrs. Walsh feared the captain’s last will and testament would be void without a body, or at the very least its execution much delayed, and to support her future, she was relying on being the sole benefactor. With the help of the food trolley the captain had ordered for his liaison with Miss Guilford, the two women managed to get the captain down to the pantry and into the near-empty pickle barrel where his body would be preserved. Elise Walsh gave Patty Applebalm one of the fleur-de-lis cufflinks as a sign of the short-lived pact between them. It was just bad luck Babineaux had stumbled on the body so quickly.
Ginger made a trip to steerage to recover Boss from the kennel.
“Dear Scout,” she said as the boy handed her pet over. “Thanks so much for taking care of Boss and for your discretion in the other matter.”
“Tis fine, missus. Me and your Boss got along real well. I’ll miss the ol’ feller.”
“I’m sure he’ll miss you, too.” The emotion Ginger felt saying goodbye surprised her. “Are you staying in London? Surely you must attend school somewhere?”
“There’s nuffin’ I need learnin’ that my cousin Marvin can’t teach me.”
Ginger wanted to snatch the eager-faced boy and run. Before she could think it through she said, “You could come live with me if you like. You’d have a safe home and learn to properly read and write.”
“Aw, missus, I couldn’t. My cousin needs me. And it ain’t my place in this world to be wiv grand folks like yerself. Besides, I ’ave me ol’ uncle to fink about.”
Ginger sighed. She had no business trying to swoop in and rescue Scout like he was a stray puppy. He had a family, and besides, she wasn’t even planning on staying in London. What was she going to do? Steal him off to Boston?
“I understand perfectly. I do hope we will meet again sometime in the future.”
“Yes, missus. That’d be brilliant.”
Ginger affectionately patted the boy on the head, then tugged on Boss’s leash. She made a point to smile at all the steerage folk on the way out.
Doing something for the last time, even simple and mundane things like picking up her dog from steerage, tugged on Ginger’s heart. Walking the open deck of first class, breathing in the saline air, and watching the bow of the Rosa cutting through the cool waters of the Atlantic, all for the final time on this trip. In the distance she could see a sliver of brown on the horizon—land. She took a moment to enjoy the beauty. One thing Ginger had learned well was to not take the future for granted and to make the most of each moment, firmly grounded in the present.
“Mrs. Gold!”
Ginger snapped out of her reverie at the sound of Roy Hardy’s voice. “Hello, Mr. Hardy!”
He raced down the deck and was red in the face from exertion and Ginger presumed, excitement. “It worked! Your plan worked! Miss Chloe smiled and invited me to eat lunch with her, and now we’ve made plans to meet up for drinks in Liverpool!”
Ginger clapped her hands. “I’m so happy for you, Mr. Hardy, and I’m not surprised. You’re a great catch!”
“You’re too kind, madam.”
“Pfft. It’s true. And, do visit me in London if you ever find yourself there.” Ginger didn’t know why she extended the invitation. She was sincere in her desire to see the young man and his sweetheart again, but unless they visited in the next month or so, she would have left for America.
He shook her hand with exuberant gratitude and then hurriedly returned to whatever chore he’d interrupted when he beheld her.
When Ginger rounded the corner towards her room, she recognized Miss Guilford staring mournfully out to sea. Her arms were crossed over a turquoise floral day dress that had a wide white sailor collar that draped over her shoulders. A wide-brimmed hat decorated with a long white-satin ribbon, shaded her eyes from the glare of the sun that lowered in the West.
“Miss Guilford,” Ginger called out. “Are you all right?”
“Right as rain, honey,” she said without a smile. Ginger noted the sarcasm.
“I am very sorry for all that has happened.”
“Patty was just a meddling middle-aged woman who only thought of herself.” Nancy Guilford spoke forcefully, but the lone tear that escaped gave away the affection she felt for her aunt.
But Ginger couldn’t disagree with Nancy’s harsh words. Patty had been blackmailing the captain over his bastard child, which was why he’d borrowed money from Ginger’s father, money Ginger didn’t know if she’d ever see again.
“She
was misguided and disturbed, I’ll give you that,” Ginger said. “But I know she means a lot to you.”
“How would you know that?” Nancy scowled. “You don’t know me at all!”
Ginger held the photo of the infant she’d been carrying in her pocket. “I believe this belongs to you.”
Nancy’s fingers trembled as she took it. “Where did you find it?”
Ginger wasn’t about to give her means and methods away, and instead of answering said, “You spoke truthfully about being in the captain’s room the night he died, but you weren’t there as his guest. Rather, your aunt had told you what she’d done. You went there for the murder weapon and then threw it overboard, didn’t you? To protect her. It’s why it hasn’t been found.”
Nancy stared at her with sad and forlorn eyes but said nothing. Her silence confirmed Ginger’s conviction to the truth. That and the “big ol’ floppy ’at” on Nancy’s head, unlike anything Patty or Elise Walsh had ever worn.
Chapter Twenty-Six
There was just enough time left to pack up before the SS Rosa was scheduled to dock in Liverpool. Ginger had booked a room at an inn for herself and Haley, and the two of them would take the train into London the next day.
“Do you need any more help?” Haley offered. Her two suitcases had been packed and ready for some time.”
Ginger’s trunks and suitcases were filled and ready to be locked, her hat boxes stacked. “I think not. The porter should arrive shortly for my luggage.”
“Will someone be waiting for us when we arrive at Hartigan House?” Haley asked, “Or are we about to present ourselves to an empty place?”
“You know,” Ginger said, “I’m not sure. Besides Pips, whatever staff there is at Hartigan house will have been hired by Father, or perhaps Pips himself.”
“Who’s Pips?”
“Clive Pippins is the butler. He’s been on at Hartigan House since I was a child.” Ginger’s mind pulled up pleasant memories of the friendly man. “I always called him Pips and he called me little miss. It’s been two decades since I’ve seen him. I was heartbroken when my father made me say goodbye.”
“A happy reunion, then,” Haley said.
“I’m sure.”
Haley stared out the small window. “I’m going a bit stir crazy waiting.” She turned and stared at the dog. “Why don’t I take the boss for a walk?”
“Good idea,” Ginger said. She wouldn’t mind a few moments alone.
Once Haley and Boss left, Ginger inhaled deeply and embraced the peace and quiet. She emptied the final item from the drawer of her night table—a black and white photo of a handsome Royal Army Service Corps officer in uniform.
“My dearest lieutenant, I’m almost there.”
Ginger lightly kissed the photograph before slipping it into her handbag.
There was a soft tapping on the door and to Ginger’s surprise, Basil Reed was on the other side of the threshold.
“Inspector,” Ginger said with a smile.
“Please, do call me Basil.”
“Basil. Come in. And you must call me Ginger.”
“Ginger? Is that a nickname?”
“It is. I was named Georgia after my father George, but my mother called me Ginger.” She tapped her bob. “Because of my hair. She said one George in the family was enough.”
Basil smiled. “I like it.”
“I wish I could offer you something to drink, but alas, everything has been packed up.”
“That’s quite all right. I can’t stay long. I just wanted to say, um well, thank you for your help today. I’m not sure I would’ve solved the case before docking without your assistance.”
“You’re welcome. Besides the slight choking incident at the end, I quite enjoyed myself.”
“Right. That was a particularly unpleasant moment for me as well. I also came to give you this.” He took another step towards Ginger and handed her a folded piece of paper. “The concierge was on his way to deliver it, and I said I’d be happy to run the errand for him.”
“A telegram?”
“Yes. I’ll go now and let you read it in privacy.” He held out a hand. “Perhaps we’ll meet again in London sometime.”
“That would be delightful.”
As soon as the inspector closed the door behind him, Ginger opened the telegram.
GHASTLY DISCOVERY IN ATTIC OF HARTIGAN HOUSE STOP AWAIT YOUR ARRIVAL FOR ADVICE STOP PIPPINS
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About the Author
Lee Strauss is the author of A Nursery Rhyme Suspense, The Perception Series (young adult dystopian), and young adult historical fiction . She is the married mother of four children, and divides her time between British Columbia, Canada and Germany. When she's not writing or reading she likes to cycle and hike. She enjoys traveling (but not jet lag :0), soy lattes, red wine and dark chocolate.
Lee also writes younger YA fantasy as Elle Strauss and inspirational romance as Hope Franke Strauss.
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Murder at Hartigan House
Chapter 1
Ginger Gold hesitated at the front door of Hartigan House. She hadn’t expected to feel anything, but instead she shouldered a heavy shawl of melancholy. This grand, three-storey structure built of limestone, situated in the picturesque Kensington street of Mallowan Court, had grown tired over the war years. The stones greyer, the garden wilder. The house had been her home for the first eight years of her life. The last time she’d visited had been a decade earlier on her honeymoon.
Her mostly happy childhood was long gone as was her lovely husband.
Haley Higgins, Ginger’s good friend and travelling companion, noticed her disquietude. “Is everything all right?”
“Hartigan House holds a lot of memories.” Ginger was torn in her allegiances: London the place of her birth or Boston the place where she came of age. She’d lived in the brownstone on Beacon Hill for over twenty-two years, yet England was etched deeply in her soul.
And now, to finally return—it was with this disconcerting welcome. A telegram received while on board the SS Rosa: GHASTLY DISCOVERY IN ATTIC OF HARTIGAN HOUSE.
Ginger, rousing her inner strength, stepped to the front door and engaged the wrought iron knocker.
“This is your house, isn’t it?” Haley said. A lock of long, curly brown hair escaped its faux bob, and she pushed it behind her ear. “Su
rely you don’t have to knock?”
“I’m not in possession of a key and I’m quite certain the door is locked.”
Haley tested the knob and found Ginger’s prediction to be true.
Ginger adjusted her yellow cloche hat, trimmed with blue ribbon to match her fine linen suit purchased on 5th Avenue in New York and patted her red bob with gloved hands. Her Boston terrier Boss waited obediently by her feet.
Their arrival was expected. Ginger had telegrammed the details of her journey before leaving Boston, and the door soon opened. Standing before them was Mr. Pippins, the butler. The years seemed to have caught up with him. His shoulders slumped slightly, and his hair had all but disappeared. But his eyes remained their bright cornflower-blue, and they twinkled as he stared back at her.
“My dear Lady Gold.” He spoke her name with a slight quiver, giving away the emotion he experienced at seeing her. A dramatic image flashed through Ginger’s mind: a scrawny redheaded girl held firmly by her father’s strong hands as she wept, her eyes locking with her beloved butler as her father took her away.
A tear escaped from the corner of her eye, and she threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Pips.”
Clive Pippins, stiffening at first to this unorthodox greeting, returned the embrace. Ginger released her hold, stepped back, and clasped her hands in front of her. She sensed Pippins’ embarrassment and shared in it. There were proper ways to do things, especially in England, and showing overt affection to a member of one’s staff was not proper. She cleared her throat and smiled. “It’s so good to see you again, Pips.”
Pippins stood tall, hands relaxed behind his back. “My sympathies, once again, on the loss of your father. Mr. Hartigan was a good man.”