by Lee Strauss
Ginger ignored the jab.
“Consider it a spying operation. Part of the investigation. And cocktails instead of tea.”
“Your invitation just got a lot more interesting. Who are we spying on?”
“Princess Sophia von Altenhofen.”
“Why her?”
“Well, we have a grand duchess who’s not really a grand duchess, a princess who’s no longer a princess, and a countess who’s disappeared, seemingly into thin air.”
“An aristocratic enigma.”
“Since one is dead and the other can’t be found . . .”
“The princess, it is.” Haley stood and brushed her hands together with enthusiasm. “Where is this appropriate frock?”
An hour and a half later—twice as long as it should’ve taken according to Haley—they arrived at the Ritz hotel.
“You really do look quite becoming,” Ginger said. “And I’m not the only one to think so.” She nodded toward a table with two gentlemen looking their way. They each lifted a glass in acknowledgment.
“We’re here to work, Ginger, not play.”
“Can’t one do both at the same time?”
Ginger led Haley to the same cocktail lounge she’d been to a couple of days before with Basil. Haley made clucking noises. “So this is how the other half lives.”
“The London Ritz was the second hotel built by César Ritz, the Swiss hotelier. The first is in Paris.”
“Looks like he’s done well for himself.”
“Indeed.”
They selected a table with a view of the whole room, and hung their handbags over the backs of their chairs.
“What makes you think the princess will make an appearance?” Haley asked.
“Just a hunch. Princess von Altenhofen doesn’t look the type to enjoy exploring London alone.”
Ginger ordered a platter of cheese and crackers with caviar, and a mint jelly spread, which they enjoyed with fine French pinot noir.
Haley moaned after one bite. “This is my kind of spying operation.”
Ginger toasted her. “To spies.”
After another bite, Haley said, “Have you heard from Louisa, lately?”
“Yes, actually.”
As a live-in nurse for the late Mr. Hartigan, Haley had become well-acquainted with Ginger’s half-sister. Ginger and Louisa were ten years apart, though Louisa hardly acted her age. She’d been hopelessly spoilt by their father and by Sally, Louisa’s mother and Ginger’s stepmother. Motivation for moving to England included the opportunity to move out of Sally’s house and Ginger suspected her stepmother was equally relieved. Despite Louisa’s propensity for demanding attention by means of sulking or behaving obnoxiously, she was still Ginger’s sister, and Ginger loved her.
“I received a letter from Louisa this morning,” Ginger said. “I’m glad you reminded me. She sends her love.”
“Staying out of trouble?”
“Well, you know Louisa. She has her own mind.”
Haley spread mint jelly on a cracker. “I kind of miss her antics, though Felicia does a good job of keeping us entertained.”
Ginger sipped her drink and nodded. “I quite agree.”
“When will you see Louisa again?”
“I’ve invited her to come and visit once she’s finished her education.”
Haley plopped the cracker into her mouth.
“Oh, there’s the princess,” Ginger said, peering over Haley’s shoulder. “Pretend to be looking at the barman.”
Haley swivelled her head slowly, covering her mouthful with one hand as nonchalantly as possible, and watched the princess stroll to a table, already occupied by a gentleman. Ginger had seen him arrive, but his hat had hidden his face, and he’d turned his back to her when he’d taken it off. All she could see was the top of his head, washed-out blond hair with noticeable streaks of grey, slicked back with hair grease and a fine-tooth comb.
“I wish I could see who she’s with,” Ginger said.
“You could visit the ladies,” Haley said. “It’ll take you right by.”
“She’d recognise me.” Ginger patted the bottom of her red bob. “But you could do it.”
“How would I know who the man is? I don’t know anyone who isn’t in medicine.”
“You can describe him to me. Maybe he was at the gala.”
“Okay.” Haley stood, straightened her dress and stepped away.
“Haley,” Ginger called. “Don’t forget your handbag.”
“Right.” Haley picked up the small clutch and moved it up to her face as she passed the princess’ table.
Good move, Ginger thought. The princess might recognise Haley from the gala, even if she’d never spoken to her.
Ginger avoided eye contact with the table hosting the two gentlemen so as not to give them encouragement. Haley returned shortly and reclaimed her chair.
“So?”
“I do recognise him. He was at the gala.”
Ginger leaned in closer. “Pray tell, who is it?”
Haley looked as if she were biting her cheek to keep from smiling. “Lord Whitmore.”
Ginger’s jaw slackened. “Goodness.”
“And, they were holding hands under the table.”
“No! He’s having an affair?”
“From the way they looked at each other, I’d say that’s a resounding yes.”
“But, he’s with—”
“With what?” Haley asked.
The British secret service.
“With Lady Whitmore, of course,” Ginger replied. “Poor lady.”
Chapter Eighteen
Ginger patted Haley’s gloved hand. “Keep watch. I’m going to have a look at the princess’ room whilst she’s occupied.”
“How are you going to do that? I’m sure it’s locked.”
Ginger cocked her head and smiled crookedly. “Have you forgotten the SS Rosa already?”
“Ha!” Haley said. “How could I forget that?”
“Then you remember a certain unconventional use of my hatpins,” Ginger said tapping a pin that was keeping her white satin cloche from shifting.
Haley sniggered. “I do. Off with you, then.”
Luckily, a shift change was in process, and a younger lift attendant had arrived to relieve the older one. This would definitely work to Ginger’s advantage, as the day attendant wouldn’t know that the princess had left her floor. Ginger stepped into the lift, the ornate brass doors closing her in with the young attendant. He had ruddy cheeks and fine stubble on his face. Ginger smiled brightly, lowered her chin and fluttered her mascara-heavy lashes.
“Hello, handsome,” she said with her American accent. She made a show of playing with the beads that ran around her bare neck.
The rosy colour of the youth’s cheeks deepened. “Madam. What floor?”
“It’s Mrs. Ford.”
Ginger patted the young man’s arm, and his eyes widened at the familiarity.
“Have we met before?” Ginger asked. “I’ve only been to London a couple times, just in from the States, you know. With my husband, Henry.”
The attendant gulped. “Henry Ford? The motorcar maker.”
Ginger giggled. “The one and only! We’ve just purchased a home in Westminster.”
“Welcome to London, madam!”
“Thank you.”
The attendant seemed to realize that he hadn’t been doing his job. “Which floor would you like, madam?
“Well, you know, I’m not sure anymore. I’m here to visit my dear friend Princess Sophia von Altenhofen.” Ginger dragged her fingers through her handbag. “But I seemed to have misplaced the room number.”
“It’s quite all right, Mrs. Ford. She’s on the top floor, number four.”
“Fantastic!”
The lift shuddered upwards. Ginger tipped the lad generously and hoped that would seal his discretion. She waited until the lift lowered and the top of the attendant’s head disappeared, then hurried to room four.
> Ginger removed her hatpin and carefully worked the lock, easing the pins in the mechanisms as they popped one after the other. A sense of gratification filled her when she heard the slight click. She slipped inside the princess’ grand room.
Ginger took a moment to admire the decor. The room was bright with pale walls and a light colour printed carpet. The bed was the largest Ginger had ever seen with a padded peach-coloured headboard and matching valance and footstool. Adjacent to the bed was a fireplace with a cement hearth painted gold. There was a white dressing table with a matching chest of drawers and an armchair with a calming peach-and-white print. A white table and chair sat in front of a large window, so huge it almost took up the whole wall.
Ginger immediately checked the dressing table, the chest of drawers, the wardrobe and the bedside tables. Coming up empty, she felt defeated. Frustrated, she scanned the room, and, on impulse she stuck a hand under the mattress. She ran her fingers along one side, across the foot of the bed, and up the opposite side. Halfway to the pillow her hand hit a bump. Removing a small black velvet sack, she opened it and peered inside.
Reverting to her American accent, she muttered, “Well, I’ll be darned.”
Inside was the Blue Desire on its sleek silver chain. She lifted it to the light. It looked real enough, but she would need a jeweller to confirm it.
Ginger dropped the blue diamond back into the bag and slipped it between the mattress and the base where she’d found it. Her heart raced. She’d been in the room too long. The princess could return at any moment. A quick glance around the room assured Ginger that everything was left as she’d found it. She cracked the door to ensure the corridor was empty, but ducked back inside at the sound of voices, male and female.
Was it the princess and Lord Whitmore? Ginger considered where she might hide. In the wardrobe? No, the princess could easily want to change her clothes. Under the bed. She loathed the thought.
Instead of growing louder, the voices grew softer until they were muffled after the sound of a room door closing followed them.
Ginger let out a breath and rechecked the corridor. Empty. She quickly slipped out and turned the opposite direction from the lift towards the stairwell. She couldn’t risk running into the princess should she decide to return to her room. She slowed when a laundry worker turned a corner. He was slight and of Indian descent. He politely averted his eyes when he passed.
She hurried down the plush carpeting of the stairwell—all four floors—until she reached the lobby. She stopped to catch her breath. Her timing was impeccable. The princess was just entering the lift and Ginger could see the young attendant’s look of confusion. Hopefully he would hold his tongue. Surely Ginger’s tip was still burning in the lad’s pocket.
Haley entered the lobby from the lounge doors.
“There you are!”
Her friend’s worry was evident in her dark eyes.
“I’m okay, Haley.” Ginger reverted to her natural London accent. “I saw Princess Sophia enter the lift.”
Haley’s fingers went to her throat. “It scared the dickens out of me. I thought she might catch you in the act. Thank goodness you left when you did.”
“It was serendipitous.”
“Well? Did you find anything?”
Ginger relayed her findings.
“That blue diamond again,” Haley mused.
“How did she get it” Ginger said. “Could she be the murderer?”
Haley lifted a shoulder. “We don’t even know if it’s real.”
They approached the front desk.
“Excuse me,” Ginger said softly, in her most feminine voice.
The male clerk looked up. “Can I help you?”
“I need to make an urgent telephone call.”
The clerk produced a modern telephone, and Ginger dialled Scotland Yard requesting to speak to Chief Inspector Reed.
He wasn’t too happy to hear about her unauthorised sleuthing.
“Ginger,” he admonished. “What if she’d found you snooping in her room?”
“She didn’t, and that’s what matters. I left everything as I found it, even the blue diamond.”
“I’m surprised to hear about the jewel, as Lord Lyon returned the paste to the Yard. Lady Lyon confessed to the necklace, but insisted the grand duchess was already dead.”
Lady Lyon—what gumption!
“Then this must be the real one,” Ginger said.
“And the killer knew this. Otherwise he or she would’ve taken it instead of leaving it for Lady Lyon to find.”
“The princess must be our killer.”
“Where is she now?”
“She went up in the lift about ten minutes ago.”
“I’ll get a warrant and come as soon as I can.”
“We’ll wait for you.”
Ginger and Haley returned to the lounge where the music and chatter would keep their conversation from being overheard. They ordered brandy and spoke quietly over the flame of the candle that flickered in the centre of the table.
“Do you think Sophia von Altenhofen killed Mary Parker to steal the real Blue Desire?” Haley asked. “Replacing it with a fake one in hopes of avoiding detection?
“Perhaps,” Ginger said after a sip. “Princess von Altenhofen admitted to knowing that the grand duchess’ necklace was fake when the chief inspector and I interviewed her.”
Haley pushed a curl behind her ear. “Maybe she could be so confident because she knew the real one was already in her possession.”
“But why would the princess reveal her knowledge of the paste if she was the killer?” Ginger said. “She must be aware that her admittance to this fact implicates her.”
“Perhaps she became too confident,” Haley responded. “Either way, it’s obvious that the princess isn’t the owner of the Blue Desire, or she would’ve put up a fuss at the gala when the grand duchess arrived.”
Haley clinked the ice in her glass as she peered at the amber liquid thoughtfully. “If neither the princess nor the grand duchess was the necklace’s owner, who was?”
Before Ginger could surmise an answer, Basil appeared at their table. He opened his jacket and removed a folded piece of paper.
“The warrant.”
“That was fast,” Ginger said.
“Judge Snelling is eager to close this case. Would you join me? Since you know the whereabouts of,” he paused and lowered his voice, “what we’re looking for.”
Ginger was already standing. “Of course. You don’t mind if Miss Higgins joins us?”
Basil hesitated, then relented. “Miss Higgins.”
The three of them, plus a member of housekeeping who Basil had commandeered, headed up in the lift. This time Ginger didn’t greet the attendant with her American persona. Instead, Basil flashed his badge. “Police business. Top floor.”
The attendant frowned, his expression serious. “Yes, sir.”
Basil knocked on the princess’ door. “Princess von Altenhofen? It’s the police. Please open the door.”
No sound came from the other side and Basil knocked again. When the door remained unopened, he motioned to the chambermaid to unlock the door.
“Oh, mercy,” Ginger whispered.
Princess Sophia von Altenhofen lay on the bed, skin pale as porcelain, her lifeless eyes wide open.
Chapter Nineteen
Haley immediately checked for a pulse, both at the neck and the wrists. She glanced at Ginger and Basil and shook her head. “She’s dead but warm. This happened very recently.”
Basil dashed out into the hall, searched both directions, and whisked back into the room. “I’ll go to the front desk and call the station. Are you all right to stay here?”
“Of course,” Ginger said. “I doubt whoever did this will return.”
Basil nodded, reassured, and disappeared.
Haley carefully examined the body.
“Can you determine the cause of death?”
“It appears to be a brok
en neck.”
“Similar to Mary Parker?”
“Seems so.”
Ginger moved to the opposite side of the bed and reached under the mattress. She frowned and swept her arm back and forth.
“What’s wrong?” Haley asked.
“The Blue Desire,” Ginger said. “It’s gone.”
“Maybe the killer came for what he or she had intended to steal last time.”
“Except that Lady Lyon admitted to taking the fake after Mary Parker was killed.” Ginger began to search the dressing table drawers.
“Unless she’s lying,” Haley said from her position on the bed.
Ginger considered her. “You think Lady Lyon did this?”
“I don’t think you can rule it out just yet.”
“She didn’t have any scratches on her arms.”
Haley lifted her chin. “There’s that, I suppose.”
“And what about the cigarette paper code?” Ginger said. “How does that fit in?”
“I don’t know. But whoever did this was at the Ritz at the same time we were.”
“When you walked across the room, did you notice anyone besides Lord Whitmore who was at the gala?”
Haley shook her head. “Why? Do you think Lord Whitmore did this? He could’ve gone up the stairs quickly while the princess took the elevator.”
“But I’d just come down the stairs. I would’ve seen him in the lobby.”
“Unless he saw you first and ducked behind a plant or into the men’s room.”
Ginger huffed. “Such a mystery.”
Basil returned, and Ginger broke the news of the missing diamond and the conclusions, or lack thereof, she and Haley had come to.
Shortly afterward, Sergeant Scott and two constables arrived. Basil filled Ginger and Haley in.
“There’s no sign of forced entry,” he said.
“No apparent defensive wounds,” Haley added, “though the princess is wearing elbow-length gloves. Bruises may be visible in the post-mortem.”
“So it was likely she knew her attacker,” Ginger said.
Basil scribbled in his notepad. “It would appear so.”
A constable tapped on the door. “Sir, the medical examiner is here.”
Ginger expected Dr. Watts to enter the room and held in her surprise when the handsome Dr. Gupta walked in.