New Year's Madness:

by Beth Byers

  They trudged the ships corridors, their shoes clanging on the floors of the ship.

  “We aren’t very stealthy, are we?” Julia asked Jacob, who was following her. She heard a thunk and a crash behind her and turned to see what the commotion was about. She barely had time to gasp at Jacob’s crumpled body on the ground in front of her before she sensed movement to her side. She turned her head, but something crashed down on her, sending her into blackness before she could focus on who was there.

  When she came to, the cool on her face was the first sensation she noticed. Her cheek was pressed against the cold floor and her legs were twisted at an unnatural angle beneath her. The pounding sensation in her head was the next bit of detail she noticed, and then the events that put her there came flooding back.

  “Jacob!”

  She pushed herself to her feet and looked around for any sign of Jacob. He was nowhere. She was alone in this abandoned corridor, Opal was missing, and now Jacob. It was time to find Oscar and raise the alarm.

  Something was going on, and she was determined to find out what it was.

  She stumbled up the stairs and into the Hawaii ballroom that was crowded with guests dancing and swaying to the island music created by the ukulele. She got odd looks from people as she strode though, searching for Oscar. Suddenly aware that her hair must be in disarray, she smoothed it as she walked.

  There. Oscar was across the room, chatting with the bartender who’d served her the okolehao. She was certain the alcohol she’d consumed was not helping her to think clearly. Blast when that man Jacob was right. She fully regretted downing that second drink. As soon as she was certain he was all right, Julia vowed to lecture Jacob for letting her consume so much alcohol.

  Please let him be all right. And Opal too.

  “Oscar.” She stormed right up to him and interrupted his conversation. “Something has happened. Opal is still missing, and Jacob and I, we were hit over the head below decks while we were searching for her.”

  “Julia! Are you all right? Where’s Jacob?”

  “No, I’m definitely not all right. Jacob is missing now too. They hit him over the head first, then me. When I woke up…I don’t even know how much time has passed…he was gone. What time is it? It was nearly ten when we went down to check the engine room.”

  “It’s 10:45, nearly time to move the guests to the Mediterranean ballroom.”

  “Oh no. I’ve been out of it for nearly an hour. They could be anywhere by now.”

  “Why were you looking in the engine room?”

  “Because you mentioned that the petrol cans came from there, and since I suspected that Opal’s disappearance had something to do with the fire starting, I decided to check there. Obviously I was on to something.”

  “Were you able to determine the purpose behind starting the fire?”

  “I thought at first it was a distraction, to maybe take something from the display case with those priceless Korean artifacts. I noticed the guards were gone when Jacob and I went back to the Korean ballroom, but when I checked, it didn’t appear anything was missing. But then Ji Ah was acting very strange. I asked her if she knew where Opal was and instead of answering me, she ran away without saying a word. Before I spoke to her, I saw that she was arguing with the drummer from the Great Drum dance in Korean. Maybe we need to go back there? Can you help me locate the drummer and Ji Ah? They have something to do with this, I just know it.”

  “Yes, of course. Come with me.”

  Chapter Five

  The Korean ballroom was all but abandoned. Even the wait staff had cleared away the evidence that any party had occurred.

  “Major Keswick will be pleased,” Oscar said. “You can’t even tell there was anyone here. At least this area has weathered the party well. Tomorrow I’ll make an assessment of the fire damage.”

  “Where would the dancers and the musicians have gone?”

  “They were encouraged to attend the party once their part of the evening’s festivities were done. I haven’t seen any of them in the Hawaiian ballroom though.”

  “Were they given sleeping quarters?”

  “Yes, they were.”

  Julia wandered over to the display cabinet and gave it another look.

  “Something is different…”

  “Is something missing? Major Keswick and my father will skin me alive is any of his valuable collection has gone missing.”

  “Everything seems to be here, but something…”

  She looked over every piece, every instrument, slowly trying to identify what was wrong.

  “There!” she exclaimed. “The…what was it called? The clapper object that looks sort of like a fan…this is not the one that was on display before. This is the one the band conductor was using during Ha Rin’s performances. The one on display before, remember Oscar, you pointed out that it used a silk cord and that more modern day baks use string since it is less expensive. This one has a string cord, not silk. Also look, down in the corner of the case, there’s a piece of torn red silk. Just like the silk from Ha Rin’s robe.”

  “How can you be sure it was Ha Rin and not Ji Ah?”

  “I use associations to help me remember and I told myself that Ha Rin and red both have the letter R. That’s how I knew who was who considering that the features of the two women, their length of hair, their eye color, even their build was almost totally identical. I wonder if they are sisters. What if I only thought I’d spoken to Ji Ah after the fire? What if she was confused because she didn’t speak the same language? What if they traded clothes? Ji Ah would have appeared to be on the ballroom floor all evening, even after the fire.” She took a deep breath. “I think who I actually spoke with was Ha Rin, wearing Ji Ah’s clothes after hers tore while she was stealing the bak.”

  Oscar nodded. “I’d like to think that your speculation is far-fetched, but you are developing quite a reputation for solving mysteries, Julia. I’m happy to oblige your theory.”

  “We won’t know for sure until we find them and their robes. I suspect we’ll find the red robe with a section torn away from it. How can I find the Korean’s sleeping quarters, Oscar?”

  “The captain. He’ll have a map of each level of the ship.”

  “Let’s go, then. We find the Koreans and I suspect we’ll find Jacob and Opal, along with the stolen bak.”

  “Follow me, then. I need to find that bak before Keswick knows it went missing. Where do you think the guards went, Julia?”

  “Either they are in on it and helped the Koreans or they’ll be captive right alongside Opal and Jacob.”

  Julia followed Oscar to the captain’s bridge.

  “Captain,” Oscar said, “I’m afraid my sister’s gone missing, as well as a local Inspector from Scotland Yard. It is imperative that I find them right away, and I believe the Korean dancers may have a clue to their whereabouts. Please tell me where their sleeping quarters are so that I may interview them.”

  The captain obliged and pulled a rolled chart from a pile of other charts.

  “Here,” he said. “The dancers and band players are using these six rooms. Mr. Goodall?”

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “This is a master key that will open every door on the ship. Please be careful with it.”

  “Very good,” Oscar said. “We’ll be on our way then.”

  They duo marched to the area where the Koreans would be.

  “Which door? Should we try all six of them?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Just then a woman’s muffled scream came from one of the doors farther down the hall.

  Oscar raced to the door and plunged the key into the lock. He threw the door open and lunged inside, with Julia on his heels.

  Opal sat on a bed, her mouth gagged and her hands and feet bound. Jacob was next to her bound and gagged the same way except that he was also blindfolded.

  A Korean woman in a black robe stood over Opal, a sneer on her face and a knife in her hand. A knife whic
h she held to Jacob’s throat. That, apparently, had elicited Opal’s scream.

  Julia saw red. Not just because she was so angry she could feel her blood pumping fast through her body, but because both Opal and Jacob were bound with shreds of silk, ostensibly from Ha Rin’s red silk robe.

  “Where’s the bak, Ha Rin?”

  Julia kept her eye on the blade that pressed against Jacob’s throat, trying to think of a way to get the knife away from his captor.

  The woman lifted her chin in defiance. “My name is Ji Ah.”

  “You aren’t who I spoke with in the ballroom after the fire. That was Ha Rin wearing your clothes.”

  “Ha Rin is a scared child. She’ll be dealt with.”

  “What do you want with my friends? Why did you steal the bak?”

  “I don’t want anything to do with your friends. They simply got in the way. I stole the bak because it belongs with a Korean, not a Brit. The Japanese are trying to bury our culture. It is my duty to keep our culture and our people’s memory alive. I cannot do that if it is in the hands of a non-Korean.”

  “So you set the river on fire as a distraction and took it? I don’t understand, why change clothes?”

  “Ha Rin tore her robe while she was trading out the bak. I loaned her my spare robe. She only ran from you because she is a coward, not because she was worried you’d think it was someone else. Opal walked in on it so I had no choice but to take her captive. I’ve been deliberating what to do with her, then this one showed up.”

  She pointed to Jacob.

  “You two were nosing around near the engine room, which is where I was hiding Opal. Once I had this one, too, we moved here, thinking we might be safe in our sleeping quarters until the yacht docked tomorrow morning.”

  “And the guards?”

  Julia watched Oscar from the corner of her eye. He seemed to be plotting something, so Julia decided she’d keep Ji Ah talking until Oscar made a move.

  “Oh, those two. They were quite easy to bribe. A couple of Korean girls to keep them company, and we assured them it was only just a prank. Nothing was really going to be stolen.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Gambling somewhere below deck last time I checked. Safe and sound.”

  “And the bak?”

  Ji Ah’s eyes darted almost imperceptibly to the bag on the floor near her feet. Julia noticed, though, and so did Oscar. Just as Oscar dove for Ji Ah and her knife, Julia dove for the bag containing the bak.

  Oscar knocked the knife out of her hand and then held her against the wall by her neck.

  “Julia, what would you like me to do with Ji Ah?”

  “Well, we can’t kill her. Not with the Inspector here.”

  As if she’d forgotten about them until now, Julia reach over and untied and ungagged both Opal and Jacob. Jacob took his blindfold off.

  “It looks as though my job here is done. Good work, then. Let’s go get a pint, shall we?”

  •••

  A very weary Jacob and Julia disembarked from the Cutty Sark on the first day of January 1922.

  “We didn’t get our New Year’s Eve kiss, Julia.”

  “It’s true. That’s really such a cliché anyway, don’t you think. Perhaps a kiss now would be just the thing.”

  “Not yet.”

  He hugged her, letting his hands linger on her back.

  “I’d like our first kiss to be special, when we aren’t exhausted,” Jacob said through a yawn.

  “Well, then,” Julia said, acknowledging his yawn, “I don’t believe it will be today. Onward, I suppose.”

  “Will you be writing about this in the paper?”

  “Certainly. I’ll keep the fire out of it and the missing bak. Since we were able to return it to its case, there is no reason Keswick needs to know the specifics of what happened.”

  “All’s well that ends well, then.”

  “Too true. Too true. I’ve not forgotten about the kiss you’ve promised me. Be on the look out for that to come due, Inspector.”

  He smiled. “Looking forward to it, my dear. Don’t wait too long.”

  The End

  The next book in the Piccadilly Ladies Club mysteries is coming out soon and can be preordered here. If this is your first time with Julia, you may enjoy her first adventure which can be found here.

  Lola and the Secret at the Regal Rose Hotel

  By Nellie Mae

  Chapter One

  December 31st, 1922

  7:00 p.m.

  The Jewel Suite, 12th Floor

  The Regal Rose Hotel, London

  Regal Rose Hotel cordially invites you to its grand opening and New Year's Eve Gala . . .

  Lola found the invitation on the writing desk in the suite she and her mother were sharing. It was the thickest paper Lola had ever held and she was certain it was handwritten, scripted in heavy black ink and embossed with a gold stamp in the image of the hotel. She could clearly see the little columns and tiny windows that made up the front view of the vast building. Lola was still delighted that she shared a name with the opulent hotel. Miss Lola Rose at the Regal Rose.

  “The gala takes place in three different rooms, Mama,” Lola said while studying the invitation.

  “Mother,” Lola's mother corrected. Lola tried not to roll her eyes. It was in the past few months that her Mother had been insisting that Lola call her by the formal title. She supposed she should have expected her mother to revert back to her Britishness when they began their tour of Europe and the British Isles, but facing the reality of it was something else entirely.

  Lola had to admit, though, that her English-born mother was quite at home in London while Lola was still trying to get her feet wet, as her Papa would say. Not for the first time, the memory of his loss struck her with an ache of sorrow.

  “The gala starts in The Steward Room,” Lola continued, “which looks like it is a drinking room.” That didn’t sound so bad. Would they play jazz, too? Maybe a live performance. Lola hadn’t forgotten that marvelous act she’d seen in Paris when she’d slipped her leash and explored the city on her own.

  Her mother was sitting at the dressing table, applying her makeup. Her hand paused in the act of brushing powder across her cheeks, the only sign she gave of having heard. Lola had expected more of a reaction. Her mother had supported the Volstead Act, much to many West Texans’ dismay. Lola still remembered the one speak-easy she’d found in Amarillo. They’d played live jazz.

  “Then it moves to the restaurant, The Empire.” Lola flip through the hardbound book of the Regal Rose Hotel’s amenities. “‘The Empire,’” she read, “‘is a refined dining experience with a formal atmosphere offering Britain's greatest cuisines.” Lola looked up from the book. “I didn't know that England had a cuisine.”

  “Don't be smart, Lola. We’re guests here. Be respectful.” Her mother turned her head left and right, studying herself in the triple glass mirror. Lola stopped to admire her. There was no doubting that Deborah Addington Rose was a beautiful woman. No one would take her as a woman of forty-three, a fact that her mother delighted in. She was even more pleased when Lola was thought to be her sister rather than her twenty-three year old daughter.

  Her auburn hair had no trace of gray, her face was carefully unlined, even having spent the better part of two decades in the West Texas sun and wind and cold. She still moved with the grace of a lady to the manor born, which she was. It was easy to see how Lola’s father had fallen hard for Deborah Addington, much to her family’s chagrin.

  “I’m not being smart,” Lola told her. “I’m quite happy to be here.” That didn’t begin to capture the depth of Lola’s joy. So much to see and to do. And the jazz scene in London was rumored to be ridiculously wild. Lola couldn’t wait to slip her leash again to find out.

  “After dinner,” Lola told her mother, “the gala moves to a place called The Heritage Rose Hall.” She consulted the amenities book once again. “‘The Heritage Rose Hall offers space fo
r large gatherings, balls, and celebrations in a tasteful, modern setting with top-rate service and dining options from any of the Regal Rose Hotel’s restaurants.’” Lola watched her mother put on the diamond teardrop earrings that had belonged to Lola’s grandmother, Lady Addington.

  “Is this typical?” Lola asked. “Moving three places for one party?”

  “Gala,” her mother corrected. She turned her head once more, examining herself from all directions. “If we were attending in a private setting, then it is very likely that we would begin in a parlor, move to a dining room, and end in the ballroom.”

  Lola shook her head. “I had no idea life in England was so complicated.”

  Her mother chuckled and turned to smile at her only child. “Oh, Lola Lucille, you’ve only seen a very small part of London, let alone the whole of England.”

  Lola winced as she always did when her full name was used, but secretly, she was pleased to hear it. Her father had called her that all the time. Her mother, usually only when she was frustrated. It was nice to know the name would survive in an affectionate manner and not only when her mother was in a tiff.

  “Stranger in a stranger land,” Lola said. She set the invitation aside.

  Her mother stood. “We’ve a very short time before we must attend.” She smoothed down her dress. She was the picture of a modern woman raised in a Victorian era. Her gown was black silk embroidered with large red roses and fell in layered drapes to the floor, with Georgette between the layers to give it an even airier look. The gown had no sleeves and only thin shoulder straps and a flat décolletage.

  Her mother had completed the look with her teardrop diamond earrings, several bangles of both black enamel set with rubies and red enamel set with jet beads. She had pulled her shoulder-length hair into a bun to appear short and crowned it with a wide band scarf of pleated red and black. She looked amazing.