by Lee Strauss
Lady Pennington had just deftly turned herself from potential suspect to potential victim, Ginger thought. She glanced at Basil before saying, “You must be careful, Lady Pennington. Remain vigilant.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
“That shall be all for now,” Basil said, “but you’ll have to remain on board for a while longer.”
“Why? You can’t just hold me here for no reason.”
“We’re in the middle of a murder investigation, Lady Pennington. The delay can’t be helped.”
“Very well. In that case, I’m travelling with a chest of some considerable value. I’ve been reassured by London and North Eastern Railway security, that my possessions would get to Edinburgh safely with me, but now, with this disruption, I’m concerned. I should like to inform my family so that they shall know my luggage is arriving without me.”
“I’m afraid the luggage van has also been detained.”
“Whatever for?” She waved her gloved hand dismissively. “I know, I know. It’s a murder investigation. Poor second and third-class passengers, arriving without their bags.”
“They shall be notified when the luggage van eventually arrives.”
“And my maid? She shall wonder why she can’t find me.”
“Rest assured, Lady Pennington,” Basil said. “Everyone has been notified about the circumstances.”
“Of course.” Lady Pennington batted thickly made-up eyelashes in Basil’s direction. “Could you escort me to the luggage car so I can rest easy? Like I said, I’ve something of considerable value there.”
“I’m rather busy at the moment, but Constable Mulgrew can assist you,” Basil said, then gave instructions to PC Mulgrew. “Get one of the other constables to lead Lady Pennington to the luggage compartment and back to this carriage as soon as her concerns are alleviated.”
“Thank you, Chief Inspector,” Lady Pennington offered a bare hand for Basil to hold, before disappearing.
Ginger rolled her eyes. “There’s no need to go gloveless. It’s practically a refrigerator in here.” Ginger wrapped her arms around her chest and shivered. “I mean, did she expect you to kiss her hand?”
Basil burst out laughing. “You’re adorable when you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous!”
“Really?”
“Really.” Ginger sniffed. “But I suppose I shall have to get used to this type of distasteful display from shameless members of my own sex.”
Basil kissed her cheek. “That road runs both ways, my dear.”
Mrs. Griffiths was older than Ginger had first thought, perhaps in her late sixties, but spry with modern sensibilities of a lady half her age. Her short, well-styled hair was not yet completely grey. The skin on her face exposed her age with more lines than a younger counterpart. She had eyes that twinkled, which contributed to her sense of youth.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” she said. Her voice was low and husky as if she’d spent most of her life smoking cigarettes, a possibility Ginger found hard to imagine. If the lady did indulge in what was still considered very much a gentleman’s recreational pastime, she didn’t ask permission to partake now. In fact, of all the passengers, Mrs. Griffiths seemed the least nervous to be questioned by Scotland Yard. Rather, she appeared enamoured.
“It’s quite an honour to converse with you, Chief Inspector Reed. I’ve read quite a bit about the men of Scotland Yard. Sherlock Holmes to be precise. What a clever man! It must be so thrilling to outwit mischievous criminals.”
Ginger glanced at Basil. Mrs. Griffiths did know that Sherlock Holmes was a fictional character, did she not? Nor was he of Scotland Yard, but rather a private detective. Ginger hoped the lady wasn’t delusional.
Mrs. Griffiths chatted on. “My life isn’t exciting at all. I’m so thankful for books. Aren’t you, Mrs. Reed?” She patted her handbag. “I never leave home without something to read, especially whilst travelling on a train. Good thing, eh? Since today’s journey has got rather long. In fact, I think you’ll like this one—”
“Mrs. Griffiths,” Basil cut in. “I’m afraid the news I have isn’t from a storybook but is quite real. We’ve had a death on board. That is, there’s been a murder…”
Mrs. Griffiths’ palm went to her chest. “Oh my. A real murder!” Her lips worked like a fish gasping for air. “And I’m part of the story?”
“Is your final destination Edinburgh or York?” Ginger asked.
“York. To think, if the murder had happened after my stop, I would’ve missed it!”
“Yes, well,” Basil said with far less enthusiasm.
“Did you ever meet Oscar Wright?” Ginger asked.
“Never had the privilege.” She leaned in, her eyes gleaming with interest. “Is he—?”
“He is,” Basil said.
“Ah.” Mrs. Griffiths settled back into her seat. “I’m sorry to hear it. And at his age? He had to be close to ninety years old!” She chuckled. “He must have sold his soul to the devil, that one. Though apparently, he was in ill health. I read it in the paper recently.” She stared at them with a sudden seriousness. “Nature was sure to take its course in due time. Violence at this point seems rather unnecessary, doesn’t it?”
“Mrs. Griffiths,” Ginger stated. “How well do you know Miss Dansby and Mr. Pierce?”
“I only just met them on the train today. A delightful couple. So nice of them to take pity on an old lady travelling alone.
Chapter Eleven
As he flipped through his notes, Basil ruminated over the information gathered from the interviews. “That’s an interesting crew if I’ve ever seen one,” he said. He hadn’t expected the crime to be solved by the end of it, and he’d been correct.
Basil knew the young couple were friends of Felicia’s, so he didn’t want to step on any toes, but when there was a murder involved, he had to overturn every stone. “How well does Felicia know Miss Dansby and Mr. Pierce?”
“She only just met Mr. Pierce today,” Ginger responded, “but apparently, Miss Dansby was a childhood friend from Chesterton.”
“It would be prudent to ask Felicia a few questions later,” Basil said. “Perhaps we should start with what we do know.” He flipped to a clean page in his notebook. “Who of the first-class passengers lives or has lived in York?”
“Mr. Whitley has done business there,” Ginger said.
Basil scribbled the name down and added, “And Mrs. Griffiths claims to live in the city.”
“Mr. Pierce has a house there as well,” Ginger added. “And the Dansby family moved there from Chesterton at some point.”
“Righto,” Basil said. “That’s Mr. Whitley, Mrs. Griffiths, Mr. Pierce, and Miss Dansby. Now, who knew the victim personally?”
“Lady Pennington’s father.”
Basil started the new list. “Lord Pennington.”
“Mr. Pierce, again,” Ginger added. “He’s friends with the son, Ronald Wright. No one else admitted to knowing him, though I suspect Mr. Murray and Mr. Whitley do.”
Basil scribbled down the names, then said, “Only George Pierce is on both lists. I think we need to look into Miss Dansby’s new fiancé a bit more.” He was anxious to get off the dratted train himself. Fresh air and room to breathe would be most welcome. He wondered how Sullivan was doing in York.
“Why the lies?” Ginger asked.
“What do you mean?” Basil slipped his notebook back into his suit pocket.
“The businessmen and the Fisher couple lied about knowing the victim. I’m convinced that Miss Dansby and Mr. Pierce are being less than forthright, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is that’s not lining up with their statements. Lady Pennington was more concerned about her luggage than the fact that a man had died.”
There were many things Basil loved about Ginger. Her perception and ability to read people were among them.
“Sometimes people lie for no reason at all,” Basil said. “A bad habit that formed over the years. Ne
rvous people often don’t think before they speak and can say something quite out of the blue, which hinders the investigation rather than helps it.”
“Detective work is part puzzle solving and part luck,” Ginger said.
“Yes, and sometimes it’s hard to know which is which.”
“Agreed!”
“By the way, has Mulgrew returned?” Basil asked.
“I presume Lady Pennington has him cornered,” Ginger said.
“Yes, quite likely. I’m waiting for word from Sullivan. It would be useful to compare notes.”
“Perhaps we should go and look for them.”
“Who?” Basil asked.
“Lady Pennington and the young constable. He’ll be quite helpless under her charm.”
Basil chuckled. “The constable is a professional. I’m sure they’ll return once they’ve accomplished their task.”
“This constable is a man,” Ginger returned, “but as you say, I’m sure he’s fine. However, speaking of missing persons, we still haven’t located Mrs. Simms. Whatever could’ve happened to her?”
“She must have disembarked somehow. Certainly, there is a logical explanation. Let’s go and have another gander.”
Without the coal driving the engine, there was no heat to be generated for the passenger carriages. Ginger wished she’d collected her coat, but instead wrapped her black embroidered cashmere stole more tightly about her shoulders. At least body heat shared in the small compartments created some warmth, but as they walked down the corridor to the luggage van, Ginger noticed that the temperature had dropped dramatically.
Ginger turned her chin towards her shoulder and said to Basil who followed closely behind her, “How long must we remain on board?”
“It depends on what we find in the luggage van.”
The luggage van was full—stacks of suitcases, large chests, and even a collection of bicycles. It was attended by the guard, Mr. Carney, whose packed lunch was opened and abandoned on a lone wooden bench. Mr. Carney was at Lady Pennington’s command.
“It’s a small jewellery box. Brass trim. Locked. You assured me, Mr. Carney, that it would be secured and guarded.”
“It is, madam. It’s in the safe. I put it inside myself.”
Constable Mulgrew stood by the door, hands clasped in front of himself.
“Anything untoward?” Basil asked him.
“Not that I can tell. Mr. Carney is opening the safe now.”
Ginger raised a brow. “Any sign of Mrs. Simms?” Dead or alive?
“Who, madam?”
“Mrs. Simms,” Ginger repeated. “An elderly lady in mourning who needed assistance to board the train. She’s no longer in her seat, and I can’t find her anywhere. Quite frankly, I’m concerned.”
“That’s it!” Lady Pennington’s exhalation captured their attention and the subject of Mrs. Simms was put on hold.
With some effort, Mr. Carney carefully pulled the chest out from the large glossy-black Chubb safe.
“Are your fears assuaged, Lady Pennington?” Ginger asked.
Lady Pennington lifted the box, shook it lightly and frowned. She removed a set of keys from her handbag and unlocked the chest. Ginger couldn’t see what was inside it, but the expression on Lady Pennington’s face was one of undeniable shock.
“They’re gone.”
“What’s gone?” Basil said.
Ginger glanced at him with confusion. A diamond tiara with matching earrings sat elegantly on the blue satin lining.
“They’re a Pennington family heirloom. Worth a fortune!”
“I don’t understand,” Basil said. “They appear to be accounted for.”
“These are fakes!”
Oh, mercy.
“Are you certain?” Ginger said.
“Of course, I’m certain,” Lady Pennington said scathingly. “I’ve known these jewels my whole life.”
She glared indignantly at Ginger. “I checked them myself before leaving London. They were authentic. Someone exchanged them.” Turning her full attention to Basil, she softened her tone. “You’re the police. You must do something. I mustn’t arrive in Edinburgh without the jewels. My father shall have a heart attack.”
“Are the exits secured?” Basil said to Mulgrew.
“Yes, sir. Immediately after the . . . uh . . . other incident, sir. No one has got on or off since the train stopped.”
Except for Mrs. Simms, Ginger thought. She felt the sensation of a rock sinking into her belly.
Lady Pennington grew pale and collapsed onto the attendant’s bench. “I feel faint.”
Ginger went to her side. “Do you have salts in your handbag?”
“I don’t need salts. A sherry shall do.”
“I’ll fetch one from the dining carriage,” Mr. Carney offered.
“Please do,” Basil said, “then take a drinks trolley to first class. I’m sure they could use a drink too. And ask the chef to prepare some sandwiches to go with it.”
Sensing a lack of welcome from Lady Pennington, Ginger returned to Basil’s side.
“What are the odds of two crimes occurring on our wedding journey?”
Basil grinned crookedly and shook his head. “With you aboard, my dear, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
Chapter Twelve
Lady Pennington is either an excellent actress or her distress was genuine, Ginger thought. The colour had drained from the lady’s face, and she was dabbing small beads of perspiration from her brow. Mr. Carney returned with the glass of sherry Lady Pennington had requested, and she sipped it readily.
On Basil’s instructions, Mr. Burgess and Mr. Carney stayed in the luggage van.
“I don’t know how this could happen, sir,” Mr. Carney said. His round eyes looked ready to spring from his face. “I put the case in the safe, just like the lady gave it to me.”
“You may calm yourself, Mr. Carney,” Basil said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Lady Pennington sighed in defeat. “My father’s going to kill me. He’s always telling me not to take my expensive jewellery out of the house without proper security measures; tells me to wear the pastes instead. I never wear fakes, it’s tacky, don’t you think? If a lady is going to wear diamonds, they should be the real thing!
“Father doesn’t really care about my jewels. These, however, aren’t technically mine. They belong to the family. Father forbade me to take them, ever, so of course, they’re the only ones I wanted to wear. Thankfully, Father doesn’t read the London tabloids, so he never caught a picture with me wearing them.” She glanced at Ginger. “Ladies like us can’t help but end up in the society pages on occasion, can we?”
“Mr. Burgess,” Basil said, turning to the conductor. “Please inform Mr. Tippet of this latest turn of events and have him send a telegraph to the station in York.”
“Yes, sir.”
“PC Mulgrew, I want a thorough search of this carriage. Ask one of the other constables to assist. Mr. Carney, please come with me.”
Ginger loved it when Basil took control of a case. So masculine and strong. When he looked at her, she bit her lip to hold in the seductive grin that threatened. He asked her, “Would you accompany Lady Pennington to her compartment? I shall join the two of you shortly.”
Before claiming one of the empty seats in the lady’s compartment, Ginger gathered two sherries from the drinks trolley and handed one to Lady Pennington.
“I can’t imagine how this day could get worse,” Lady Pennington said with a sigh.
“Well, you could be Mr. Wright . . .”
“Oh, yes. I apologise. So insensitive of me.” She took two rather long sips in a row and then let out a long breath. “They’re only jewels after all. I’m sure they’ll be found eventually.”
Ginger agreed. “It’s beneficial to stay positive.”
Lady Pennington drank her sherry in one long swallow and stared at the empty glass as if she could wish it full again. Her cheeks blushed with the rapid consumpti
on.
“Tell me, Mrs. Reed, how did you and Mr. Reed meet?”
Ginger smiled. Why not entertain Lady Pennington with tales of her and Basil’s romance? It was their honeymoon after all.
“We met on the SS Rosa, a steamship that travels from Boston to Liverpool.”
“Did you know immediately that he was the one for you?”
“No. Not quite. But he was so dashing. And a fabulous dancer.” Ginger recalled how they grew sweaty dancing the Charleston, and how much fun it was. It had been the first time in a long while she’d felt that kind of exhilaration.
“There was an incident with the Captain, and Mr. Reed headed up the investigation.”
“And he let you assist?”
Ginger smirked. “Not voluntarily.”
Lady Pennington laughed. “You are a lady who likes to go after what she wants, society be damned. We are alike in that regard.”
Ginger sipped her sherry. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up liking Lady Pennington!
Within minutes, Basil joined them, and Ginger shifted down one seat. Constable Mulgrew and Mr. Carney waited in the corridor at Basil’s request.
“If you would be so kind, Lady Pennington,” Basil began. “Please run us through your whereabouts today.”
The lady sighed dramatically. “Very well. I stayed the night at the Ritz Hotel. Rose early, had breakfast brought to my room. My maid helped me dress. She packed our suitcases, and we took a taxicab to the train station.”
“Did you have any visitors at the hotel?” Ginger asked.
“None. I had all the socialising I could take after the opera. As much as I like attention, I also like to be alone.”
“Did you ever leave your room without the diamonds?” Basil asked.
“No. I wore them to the event and didn’t take them off until I was back in my room with the door locked. I immediately returned the jewellery to their case. This morning, I checked again, as is my habit, and they were safely in place.”
