by Lee Strauss
“Ginger? Are you all right?”
Ginger gradually became aware that she was sprawled along the ground. She’d survived the blast, but was she hurt? She wiggled her fingers and toes and moved her head.
“Ginger!”
Basil’s voice was loud beside her ear. She felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder.
“Basil?”
Basil was on the ground beside her. “Thank God! I thought you were de—”
“I’m not.”
Ginger shifted, and Basil helped her into a sitting position. She checked all her limbs and joints. “I don’t think anything’s broken, but I’m certain I’m going to feel this tomorrow.” Her hat was missing, and her feet were bare.
“My Perugias,” she whimpered.
Basil’s forehead crumpled. “Your what?”
“My shoes.”
Basil pulled himself to his feet, limped about as he worked out his own bumps and bruises, then scouted the area. He found the first one, then the other, and handed them to Ginger. She groaned. “They’re a mess.” She slipped the muddy and scratched pumps onto her feet, and Basil helped her stand. She wobbled as a wave of nausea washed over her.
“Do you need to sit down?” Basil asked.
“No, I’ll be all right. I just need a moment.”
Ginger became aware of the bright headlights of the police vehicles. “What’s happened?”
“We got a tip that drugs would be moving out of Sabini’s building, but it looks like we’re too late.” Basil frowned at the building that was now aflame and crumbling to the ground. “Bloody snitch in the Met. Sabini’s always one step ahead. Our evidence is up in smoke.”
Ginger remembered the cloth in her pocket. “I found a white powdery substance on the floor and wiped it with Marvin’s handkerchief.” She handed it to Basil. “I’m afraid the handkerchief isn’t the cleanest.”
“This is fantastic, Ginger!” Basil removed a paper evidence bag from his pocket and carefully dropped the handkerchief inside. “We may have something on Sabini after all.” He studied her. “Are you going to tell me why you’re dressed like that?”
Ginger suddenly felt self-conscious. She was used to looking her very best, especially in Basil’s presence. “I came here to look for Marvin. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.”
A smile formed on Basil’s lips. “You never cease to amaze me, Lady Gold.”
Basil’s tender gaze stayed on Ginger, and she shuffled uncomfortably. “How did you know I was here?”
“Haley called. She had a strong feeling that you might’ve come to the docks, and when she couldn’t find you at your shop, or at home, or at the medical school, she became worried. I saw movement in the building when I pulled up and figured you’d gone inside to snoop around.”
Basil grabbed Ginger by the shoulders and stared intensely into her eyes. By the light of the moon, Ginger could see his inner turmoil, sense his anxiety.
“I was so close to losing you,” he said softly. The gap between them narrowed. The reflection of the flames flickered in Basil’s gentle gaze. Ginger’s heart began to thrum. Was he actually going to kiss her? Would she let him?
“Chief Inspector Reed! Have you caught the culprit?”
Ginger groaned. The thunderous voice belonged to Superintendent Morris whose figure approached with the heavy lumbering of a bear. Tall and barrel-chested, the superintendent’s overcoat looked uncomfortably small, but Ginger doubted very much that was the reason for the deep scowl lines on the man’s thick face.
“Has this man been arrested?” the superintendent demanded.
“Superintendent Morris,” Basil said. “This is Lady Gold.”
The bear’s jaw dropped, and Ginger almost smirked. It wasn’t often Superintendent Morris was left speechless.
“Well, well, well, Lady Gold! Why in heaven’s name are you dressed like that?”
“I was doing a bit of reconnaissance,” Ginger explained.
“On whose authority?” the superintendent growled. “You’re simply interfering in police business–again.”
This wasn’t the first time Ginger had crossed paths with the superintendent and found herself at loggerheads. She placed a hand on her hip, felt the fresh bruise there, and let her arms drop to her side. “I’ve been hired privately,” she announced with an air of defiance.
“Can I assume you have no legal right to that building?” Morris waved to the burning remains behind him. “I should have you arrested!”
Basil held up a palm. “Lady Gold may have discovered the evidence we need to prove cocaine was smuggled into England. Perhaps it would be best if we worked together.”
Morris harrumphed then poked a thick finger into the air. “I’m warning you, Lady Gold. I won’t hesitate to throw you in gaol if you cross the line again.”
The big man snarled at Basil before heaving away.
Basil glanced at Ginger sheepishly. “He’s all bark and no bite.”
Sergeant Scott jogged over. “There’s something you’ve gotta see.”
Ginger scanned the area for the flat cap she’d borrowed from Marvin. Basil, following her gaze, saw it first. He squatted to collect it for her.
“Constable,” he called to a passing officer. “Would you please escort Lady Gold to her motorcar?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And follow her home, to make sure she gets there safely.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Ginger?” Basil said, ducking his chin.
Ginger’s emotions were all over the place. She swallowed and stood as tall as her bruised body would allow. “I’m fine,” she said as she rambled away. “I’ll come in to give a statement tomorrow.”
Pippins only raised a brow when Ginger limped through the French windows of the morning room. It was the closest entrance from the back garden where the garage for the Crossley stood.
“Shall I have Lizzie draw you a bath?”
“Thank you, Pips. That would be lovely.”
Ambrosia always seemed to be around when one hoped to sneak to one’s bedroom unseen and now was no different. She tapped her walking stick on the marble tiles.
“Ginger, what on earth? Why are you dressed like a gardener?”
“It’s nothing, Grandmother.”
Ambrosia’s soft cheeks trembled. “It’s not ‘nothing.’ Are those scratches on your face real?”
Ginger’s hand flew to her cheek where the throbbing had begun in earnest on the drive home.
“Good Lord, look at the filth on your hands.” Ambrosia’s voice pitched higher. “Have you had to resort to common labour because you’ve run out of money?”
“Grandmother! Speculation is unnecessary. I’ll explain after I’ve had a chance to clean up.”
Ginger left Ambrosia to gape at her and with the aid of the banister pulled herself up the stairs. She heard Ambrosia muttering with exasperation, “It’s not enough that Felicia has made a spectacle of herself, now there’s you.”
The door to Ginger’s bedroom was open—she always left it open for Boss—and she wearily entered, letting out a long sigh. Boss’ head bounced up from his position at the foot of the bed where he’d been curled up and pleasantly napping.
“Oh, Bossy,” Ginger said. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” She scooped her pup into her arms and nuzzled her chin into the warmth of his neck. “You smell good. Did Lizzie give you a bath?” She set him down on the bed and began peeling off her own clothes. “I’m sorry, I know I smell awful, but I’m going to set that to rights.” She sniffed her collar and jerked back. She couldn’t believe she’d let Basil get so near her while she was wearing Marvin’s clothes!
Ginger stripped down, covered herself with a satin dressing gown, and tossed the dirty things into the laundry basket. Lizzie might have questions about the clothing later, but Ginger didn’t feel like addressing that now.
Sitting at her dressing table, Ginger examined her reflection. A dark bruise had formed on her cheek
along with some unsightly scratches. Makeup might cover it, but not sufficiently enough to make an appearance at Feathers & Flair. She’d have to call in the morning and make an excuse to Madame Roux as to why she couldn’t come in. Ginger was thankful that her shop manager was competent to run things on her own.
Lizzie tapped on the door and poked her head inside. “The bath is ready, madam.”
“Thank you, Lizzie.”
Lizzie frowned as she took in her lady’s condition. “Are you all right, madam? Do you need my assistance? Perhaps a doctor?”
Lizzie was no stranger to Ginger’s adventurous escapades, and Ginger had on occasion needed her maid’s help to bathe.
“I’m fine, Lizzie. I can manage on my own.”
“Very well, madam,” Lizzie said. She bobbed her knees before retreating.
Ginger wondered if Haley was home. Recent events were in need of discussion. “Bossy, go and find Haley, okay?” The little dog jumped to the floor and stared at his mistress, his stub of a tail wagging eagerly. “Go and find Haley!”
Boss darted out of the room, which brought a smile to Ginger’s face. “Ow.” Her palm flew to her cheek. It hurt to smile.
A yellow mat lay on the black and white tiles of the bathroom floor in front of a white porcelain clawfoot bathtub. Ginger sighed as she eased her achy body into the warm and inviting water. After scrubbing down with soap, she lay back to relax and let her mind go.
Marvin Elliot was up to his eyeballs in trouble.
Charles Sabini, a powerful man on the wrong side of the law, was the type who had a long reach and a seemingly invincible protective barrier.
Basil’s frustration at his inability to penetrate and bring down the illegal activities of the mafia was apparent. The mafia leader wasn’t beyond destroying his own property to evade the law. Drugs were a growing problem in England and not just for racehorses. According to Haley, the overdose death rate in humans was growing.
When Ginger’s mind retraced the discovery of the bomb, her heart raced. She had to breathe through the panic as she relived the moment—scrambling through the dark, feeling lost, and knowing the building was going to blow up any second.
Basil thought Sabini had got his men to blow up the building to destroy evidence of drug dealing. Somehow, Sabini had learned that Scotland Yard was preparing a raid. Basil suspected the Yard had a snitch; Ginger thought there was more than one. Having lived through bombings during the war, the whole experience at the docks brought unwanted memories to Ginger. At least this time, she hadn’t broken any bones.
And then there was the almost kiss. That moment whirled in Ginger’s mind over and over again.
She sighed into the bath water, creating bubbles on the surface.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Boss scratched at the bathroom door just as Ginger was drying off. She opened it, blasting her pet with a burst of steam.
“Where’s Haley?”
Boss tilted his head, the pointed ears twitching.
“No, Haley? Oh dear. I wonder where she is.”
Ginger dressed for dinner and applied makeup to her bruised cheek to ward off Ambrosia’s inquisition.
Music from Art Landry and his orchestra filtered through the passageway, and Ginger smiled at the image of Felicia waltzing with a make-believe partner on the other side of her door.
“Felicia darling?” Ginger knocked.
The volume of the music was reduced followed by Felicia’s voice beckoning, “Come inside.”
A blast of pink and cream décor greeted Ginger as she stepped in. Felicia had recently sprayed perfume, a pleasant gardenia fragrance.
“I see you’re feeling better,” Ginger said.
Felicia stared at Ginger’s cheek. “Better than you . . .”
Ginger ducked stiffly to peer into the mirror of Felicia’s dressing table. “Drat. It’s still quite noticeable.”
“Did someone punch you? No, don’t tell me, you’ve smashed up the Crossley? Oh dear, I loved that motorcar!”
“None of the above. I fell.”
Felicia tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “You fell. As in lost your balance and tipped over.”
“There was more to it than that. Now, don’t be like Grandmother and grill me to death.”
“Poor Grandmama. I thought she was going to kill me this morning, practically shoving the newspaper with those dreadful photos down my throat. As if my mouth wasn’t already so dry. I almost drank the whole jug of water in one go.”
“Do you not feel even a tiny bit remorseful?” Ginger asked.
“Of course, I do. I’m terribly embarrassed. And ashamed. But please don’t tell Grandmama I said that.”
“Anything you say to me is in the strictest confidence, Felicia. I’m on your side.”
Felicia pouted as she flopped into a pink and cream striped chair. “What do I do now? I daren’t go out in public ever again. I suppose I shall have to marry one of those dim-witted men Grandmama has selected for me.”
With tears forming in the corners of her blue eyes, Felicia did look remorseful. “It’s going to be okay, love,” Ginger said kindly. “Everyone will forget all about you once the next scandal comes along.”
Felicia perked up. “I do hope someone does something scandalous tonight.”
“I’m sure they will,” Ginger said. Her mouth almost pulled into a smile, but she stopped in time and saved herself a spot of pain.
A book sitting on Felicia’s bedside table caught Ginger’s eye. She held the cover up to Felicia with a look of disbelief. “Married Love?”
Felicia tucked her chin defensively. “What of it? It’s a travesty how many women go into marriage, even in these modern times, with no idea of what happens on the wedding night. Dr. Stopes is doing the human female species a great service.”
Ginger didn’t disagree. She’d read Dr. Stopes—Ginger was pretty sure every woman in England had, at least in the upper classes—when the book was published. Copies had flown off the shelf to the dismay of the conservative sort still stuck in Victorian times. Banned in America, Ginger had had one shipped to her under a false name. Still, she hoped that her single sister-in-law was using the information she was acquiring from her association with Mrs. Reed and Dr. Stopes for future use.
Felicia continued her praises. “Dr. Stopes is a modern woman. A true feminist. She even kept her own name when she got married.”
Remarried, Ginger corrected mentally. Dr. Stopes had also been divorced, but Ginger wouldn’t judge her for that. No one knew what went on behind closed doors except the two people behind it.
“You do know that Dr. Stopes is also an advocate of eugenics?” Ginger asked.
“Only in that, it serves to offer women the option of birth control.”
“The option in her ‘utopia’ would be for the elite only.”
Felicia wrinkled her nose. “What do you mean?”
“Dr. Stopes believes those in our society considered undesirable or feeble-minded should be sterilised, even forcibly, to strengthen the stock, so to speak. Her aim is racial purification.”
“Oh, well, mostly in theory, I suspect,” Felicia said with some uncertainty. “Not as a rule of thumb. She really does care for the health of women.”
“Do you know the phrase ‘rule of thumb’ comes from the antiquated law that stated a man could beat his wife so long as the whip was no thicker than his thumb?”
“Aren’t you just a wet blanket,” Felicia blurted.
Ginger returned the Dr. Stopes book to the bedside table. “If you’re going to tout yourself as a modern woman, you need to know these things.”
Felicia huffed. “I suppose you’re right.”
Ginger smiled, bearing the discomfort to her face. “By the way, have you seen Haley?”
“She was around earlier. Searching for you, as a matter of fact. She looked quite serious.”
“More serious than usual?” Ginger asked.
Felicia grinned. “Maybe not.”
“I’m going to look for her. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Thanks for stopping in, Ginger. I do feel better.”
Boss followed Ginger down the steps and entered the grand entrance hall just as the doorbell rang out.
“Who could that be, Bossy?”
Ginger’s mind went directly to Basil. Would he come to see her already? Perhaps it was about the case and not the near-kiss.
She opened the door, shocked to see the person standing there—definitely not Basil Reed.
“Lady Gold. I’m here.”
Oh, mercy! Ginger had utterly forgotten that Matilda Hanson was due to arrive today. She recovered quickly.
“Miss Hanson! I wondered when you would get here. Come on in.” Ginger peeked around Miss Hanson to the taxicab waiting.
“The driver said he’d help bring in my belongings,” Miss Hanson said.
“Of course. My butler and chauffeur can help.”
Having heard their voices echoing through the entrance hall, Pippins hurried over. Ginger gave him instructions for Clement and asked for Grace.
When Grace appeared, Ginger instructed her to take Miss Hanson to the spare bedroom. “She is to be our guest for quite some time, so please help her to settle in and attend to her needs.”
Grace bobbed. “Yes, madam.”
Miss Hanson was quite overcome by all the attention. “You’re really so kind, Lady Gold.” She dabbed at tears. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with my problems.”
“Nonsense. Now, go along with Grace. You’re just in time for dinner.”
“Pippins,” Ginger said, as the butler returned from the taxi with two suitcases in hand. “Have you seen Miss Higgins?”
“She popped in for a short while this afternoon, madam. I believe she visited your study.”
“Thank you, Pips.”
Clement followed Pippins up the staircase with both arms weighed down with Miss Hanson’s things. Ginger did hope that Ambrosia would behave at the dinner table.
Boss followed Ginger down the hallway and whined for her to open the green baize servants’ door and follow him to the kitchen where his food bowl was found. “Looking for a snack, are you?” She pushed the kitchen door just wide enough to get a glimpse of Mrs. Beasley and Lizzie working on dinner preparations.