by Lee Strauss
Ginger looked him straight in the eye. “I have dealt with much more dangerous thugs than you in my time, Mr. Crealy. Your threats do not frighten me in the least. But I am warning you now that you will not like what will happen to this workhouse next.”
At the obvious change in her accent, Crealy’s face went white.
“Remove your arm at once!” Ginger commanded.
Crealy, cowed, dropped his arm and stepped aside. Ginger joined the boys and Boss as they hurried away.
“’ere now!” Crealy shouted after them, his voice slightly wavering. “What d’ya mean by that?”
Chapter Ten
A few weeks later, Ginger poked her head into the woodworking training class at Hanwell Industrial Residential School.
“Boss!”
A boy’s voice cried out in surprise. Eddie dropped his wood chisel beside a small, partially completed chair that he and another lad were working on. He ran over and bent down to hug the Boston terrier while getting licked liberally all over his small face by the exuberant dog. The other children in the class stopped what they were doing to watch in surprise. It was not every day they saw a dog in their classroom.
“Well, hello to you too,” Ginger said. She watched the happy scene with a smile.
Ginger was pleased to see that in the last little while Eddie had gained back some of the weight he had lost and that the bruises on his face were almost gone. He seemed clean and healthy and was wearing a new school uniform.
“Good morning, Mrs. Reed.” The instructor for the class walked over to shake her gloved hand. He was a balding man dressed in a carpenter’s work clothes and smelled of sawdust. “I was told to expect you today.”
“Good morning, Mr. Browning,” Ginger returned. She nodded at Eddie. “How is he doing?”
“The young lad’s coming along just fine. He seems to be well liked here, both by the staff and the other children.”
“I’m not surprised,” Ginger said. Young Eddie was a delight.
“He’s a bright, well-behaved young lad, I am happy to say. A good addition to our school.” Mr. Browning peered down at Eddie, who was on his knees stroking Boss on the back.
Ginger knew that it was not an easy life at Hanwell School. The rules were strictly enforced and the administration had a reputation for expecting a lot from the children in terms of learning and obedience. However, intuitive children who could adjust to the austere life here usually did well and left with a chosen skill that could earn them a satisfactory wage as a tailor, plumber, carpenter, or one of a myriad of other trades. The children who ended up in Hanwell and stayed there were much better off than the ones who were forced to spend their younger years in workhouses, or worse, on the streets of London fending for themselves.
“Would you mind if I spoke to Eddie for a few minutes?” Ginger asked
“Of course not.” Mr. Browning checked a scratched pocket watch. “His next lesson, which is arithmetic, is in twenty-five minutes time. Please bring him back here before then, if you will.”
Ginger and Eddie, with Boss, strolled to a small outside courtyard. It was a sunny spring day and Ginger enjoyed the sound of the birds flying overhead. They chose a bench and Boss sat at Ginger’s feet.
“Eddie,” Ginger began gently, “I want to hear from you directly how things are going. You never have to keep anything from me. If you are ever having some kind of difficulty here I want to know about it. All right?”
Eddie nodded solemnly, “Things are aw’right ’ere. I’ve ’ad to get my ’ead on straight and mind me p’s and q’s, if you know what I mean. But I am enjoyin’ learnin’ how to work the wood. There’s even a swimmin’ pool ’ere. I’m learning ’ow ta swim!”
“Splendid!”
“The food ’ere ain’t as good as at St. George’s though, but it’s aw’right ’nuff.” He paused for a moment, looking at the ground. “I already ’ave some good mates ’ere but I do miss everyone there at the church.”
“I have arranged for you to visit twice a month to have some evening meals,” Ginger said. “Scout and I shall pick you up to take you. It’s all been arranged, so long as it doesn’t interfere with your studies here and you maintain your current good behaviour.”
“Blimey, that’d be just fine… just fine wiv me!”
Eddie flushed with excitement, then paused for a moment, deep in thought. Finally, in a very serious, small voice that made Ginger’s heart go out to the young lad, he said, “I ’ate t’ think ol’ Mr. Crealy is still out there snatchin’ children off the street like he did with me.”
What a terrible thing for any child to go through! Ginger put her arm around him.
“Rest assured, Mr. Crealy will be doing no such thing any longer. I immediately reported what I saw, along with some of the awful things you told me, to my husband at Scotland Yard. He’s a chief inspector there, did you know?”
Eddie looked up, surprised.
Ginger continued, hoping the child would understand. “There was enough evidence there for him to send in a team of investigators, who arrived unannounced at the workhouse two days after I came for you. They closed the place down for good.”
Ginger had shortened the tale on Eddie’s account. The investigating officers had found that not only were the Crealys unlawfully confining and mistreating children, they were also using part of the building as storage for a criminal gang in London that dealt with illegal drugs. The Crealys had both been remanded in custody and were awaiting trial. The children they had imprisoned had been placed in better situations, some of them here at Hanwell.
“Crikey!” Eddie said. A moment later he grinned up at her and said, “After seeing ’ow you ’andled ol’ Crealy, I wouldn’t want t’ get on your bad side, Mrs. Reed!”
At this, Ginger chuckled and tousled Eddie’s mess of blond hair.
“By the way, ’ow’s the new baby comin’ along?” He guffawed, pointing at her belly.
At this Ginger laughed out loud. No wonder the boy was such a favourite. “You are going to do just fine in this world, Eddie.”
They said their goodbyes, and Ginger carried Boss across the street to the Crossley. “You were the hero of the day back at that awful workhouse, Bossy.”
Boss barked once as he leaped onto the front seat.
“I think I may have a dog treat waiting for you back at Hartigan House.”
The End
The Case of the Missing Fox Stole
Chapter One
Mrs. Ginger Reed had just tidied away the remaining pressing matters of the day at the office of Lady Gold Investigations when she received a phone call from Emma Miller, the seamstress and resident dress designer who worked in her boutique fashion shop, Feathers & Flair.
“I’m working on a design right now that I am bit stuck on,” Emma said, “and I wondered if you might have some ideas. I really love this one and I think it’s going to be a popular dress design, but I would value your opinion before I go much further.”
“How exciting!” Ginger said. “Yes, I’ll be over shortly.” Ginger had the feeling that Emma would one day become a very important designer in the world of high fashion, at least in London. Indeed, since Ginger had opened the dress shop, the young woman’s talents had become the talk of the fashion district. Ginger was very pleased to be asked her opinion of a new design. It was a wonderful diversion from the serious investigative work that she and her former sister-in-law, Felicia Gold, often engaged in at Lady Gold Investigations.
The office of Lady Gold Investigations was on Watson Street, just around the corner from her Regent Street shop, so the walk there was short, and her beloved Boston terrier, Boss, was quite eager to go for another stroll.
It was a sunny London day and the high windows of the shop ensured that plenty of light fell in, making the space bright and inviting. The white marble floors and the creamy walls, set off with intricate painted gold mouldings and electric crystal lamps, gave the shop a luxurious feel which was enhanced by the rack
s of designer dresses, gowns, and expensive accessories. It was well in keeping with the other fine shops found on Regent Street.
“Good afternoon,” Ginger said as she entered. Miss Dorothy West, the floor clerk, was standing near the counter, about to make another sale.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Reed!” Dorothy returned with a timid smile. Ginger was glad to see that the young woman had come out of her shell. In the beginning, Ginger had seriously wondered if Dorothy was going to be a good fit, and had feared she’d made a mistake in judgment by employing her. Dorothy’s shy, nervous personality might have worked against her as she dealt with the high-society ladies of London who were not usually the forgiving type. However, after only the first few weeks, the young woman had grown in confidence. She particularly bloomed as she managed the upper floor with the factory-made frocks which attracted Bright Young Things with money to burn but little patience to wait for something original to be sewn up.
Ginger counted three ladies slowly wandering the ground floor at the moment, stopping to gaze at a particular designer gown or to feel the fabric of a dress by letting it slowly fall through their fingers. To Ginger, it was a satisfying sight.
She released Boss from his lead and commanded, “Go and lie down.” The shop manager, Madame Yvette Roux, appeared just as the small dog poked his nose through the thick burgundy velvet curtain that separated the main floor from the back room and disappeared to where he had one of his little beds.
“Ah, Mrs. Reed,” Madame Roux said. “So good that you and zee Boss could pop in. Zee day has been a very good one! And now you have come to see what our Emma is drawing, no?”
Ginger appreciated Madame Roux’s experience as shop manager. The lady’s sophistication and deep knowledge of modern fashions was a big asset to the shop. It had not taken much coaxing from Ginger to convince the middle-aged, widowed member of the haute couture to come out of retirement. When Madame Roux first heard about Feathers & Flair she had been only too eager to get back into the world of fine fashion.
“Yes, I am sure that once again it’s something wonderful she has dreamed up,” Ginger said. She joined Emma Miller behind the velvet curtain where the young woman sat in front of her large wooden drawing board, sipping tea and staring at a number of sketches. A rather intense person, she remained very focused on her art, but at the same time she was easy to work with, somehow having escaped the prickly attitude that so often plagued the more dedicated artistic temperament.
“Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Reed. I’ve been working on this particular piece for two days now and can’t seem to decide on some of the final touches.”
Ginger stood beside her and examined the drawings.
“Oh, this is quite clever, Emma. I do like those lines, and the shorter sleeves are rather daring.”
“Hmm,” Emma replied. “Let me sketch that in on some of these drawings and we’ll see how it looks. Please give me a few moments.”
“Certainly. I wanted a chance to check on some of the new frocks upstairs anyway.” It was a few minutes after closing time and Dorothy was serving the last customer of the day. Ginger was about to make her way to the upper floor when she noticed Madame Roux staring at one of the mannequins. She had her left hand on her hip, and her right forefinger was idly tapping her chin, as if she was deep in thought.
Ginger nodded her head at the fashion dummy. “Planning on changing her suit for tomorrow?”
“No, I… erm, I don’t know.” She turned to Ginger with a look of puzzlement on her face. “Yesterday we received a beautiful fox stole and I was pleased with how it looked with zees particular dress and draped it over the shoulders.”
“A Florrie Westwood design,” Ginger remarked. The stole in question was by a very talented London dress designer who was also known for her beautiful fashion illustrations.
“Yes,” Madame Roux replied. “Miss Westwood likes to use decorations like fur collars on her outfits so I added the stole to zees one.” She gestured towards the fashion dummy. “Zee stole gave zee whole costume a certain je ne sais quoi so I told Dorothy to sell zee stole as a complete ensemble with zee dress. That is to say… not sold separately. I only put it on display just zis morning.”
“Someone must have insisted,” offered Ginger.
“Perhaps,” Madame Roux said, one of her painted eyebrows arching. “But I am very curious to see who zis customer was. Please excuse me.”
Madame Roux turned to seek out Dorothy, and Ginger went upstairs. She followed the latest trends in fashion religiously. Seeing the frocks in a catalogue was one thing, but to feel them with your own hands was another. Besides, who knew when a dress might come in that she might want to claim for her own collection?
A little while later she returned to the main floor intending to fetch Boss and leave for home. Madame Roux and Dorothy West were both standing beside the large oak desk that held the shop’s ornate cash register. They were staring at the day’s receipts which were spread out on top of the desk. Both women looked up at Ginger as she came down the stairs.
“Mon dieu!” exclaimed Madame Roux as she gestured towards the receipts. “We have been robbed.”
Chapter Two
“Oh mercy!” Ginger said. “Are you sure?”
Dorothy’s face flushed crimson. “We have gone over the receipts and stock several times now. There is no doubt about it. I am so sorry, Mrs. Reed. I really don’t know how this happened.”
Madame Roux concurred. “Highly unusual for a shop like zees.”
“The fox stole,” Ginger said simply.
“I have made a cursory check of zee shop,” Madame Roux began, “The stole is zee only thing I can find zat is not accounted for. I have also asked Emma before she left to go home a few minutes ago. She has not seen it. ”
“Should we call the police?” Dorothy asked.
“Yes, Dorothy,” Ginger said. “Please ring them. Perhaps they can find something that we won’t.”
Dorothy nodded, and picked up the receiver of the elegant cradle telephone.
“But before you talk to them,” Ginger added, “can you please tell me if Lady Isla Lyons was in today?”
Both Dorothy and Madame Roux shook their heads. All four ladies who worked at Feathers & Flair had had experience with Lady Lyons and were very aware of her whenever she entered the shop. It was well known to the staff that the poor lady had a case of the “stealing madness”. The items she took were always returned the next morning with an apology from Lord Lyons. No harm was ever done to any of the garments and the ladies at Feathers & Flair were instructed to turn a blind eye when they saw Lady Lyons leaving the shop with an unpaid item, whether she was wearing it or had it folded in her handbag.
“She was not in at all today or yesterday,” Dorothy said.
“That saves me an uncomfortable call,” Ginger let out a sigh. “In the meantime, let’s put our heads together and see if we can come up with some clues.”
Madame Roux and Ginger returned to the fashion dummy which had previously displayed the fox stole and stared at it thoughtfully. Whoever had stolen the eye-catching wrap must have surreptitiously stuffed it into a handbag. After a moment, they were joined by Dorothy.
“Do either of you remember anyone showing an interest in this outfit?” Ginger asked.
“No, no one asked me to remove this frock from the display today,” Dorothy said. It was shop policy that should a customer want to try on an outfit in the shop, one of the staff would assist them.
“Nor me,” Madame Roux added.
“Well then,” Ginger said, “we know that whoever took it was very bold, and risked being seen in the act. What do either of you know about this specific stole?”
“It was ordered from a supplier called Berwick Furriers,” Dorothy said. “The stole itself is a large adult fox. It has brown silk underlining to complement the fox’s bright red fur, and features real glass eyes in the head. It has a gold clasp under the chin which attaches to a gold rope chain near
the tail. The clasp has a little brass tag on it that says ‘Berwick-upon-Tweed’ which I believe is in Northumberland.”
“So, one would need a rather large handbag to get this stole into,” Ginger said.
Madame Roux agreed. “Oh yes. Zee handbag must be not only large, but also quite empty to accommodate the size.”
“Did you recognise all of the customers today?” Ginger asked. “Or were there new faces?”
“It was a busy day,” Dorothy said, “but I would say that I had seen most of those customers before. There were only a few that I didn’t recognise at all, and of those, none were carrying overly large handbags, to my memory.”
“Do you remember anyone with a large handbag who stopped at the cash register to pay for something smaller, like a scarf or something?” Ginger asked, “They could have fitted that in with the stole.”
Dorothy replied, “Actually, there were no scarves sold today or anything of that size.”
“Aha!” said Madame Roux as if suddenly getting a revelation. Ginger and Dorothy looked at her in surprise. “I sink all we have to do is try to remember zee ones that left without stopping at zee cash register and also had a very large handbag!” She clasped her hands together in front of her face in excitement at the brilliance of this idea.
Ginger and Dorothy shared a knowing smirk.
“Brilliant thinking,” Ginger said, barely suppressing a chuckle.
Chapter Three
It was just after nine o’clock the next morning when Inspector Sanders from the Metropolitan Police stepped into the shop and took off his hat. The shop was empty of customers and the ladies were busy going about the process of beginning their day, but at the inspector’s arrival, they gathered in the back room to be interviewed by him. The middle-aged inspector was one of the Metropolitan Police’s more portly officers. He was dressed in plain clothes, with high-waisted, wide-legged trousers, and a narrow jacket that seemed in stark contrast to the body it was meant to cover, stretching over his stout frame, whilst his belt seemed to have one extra hole punched into it at the very end of its length to accommodate the girth of the man. His black shoes were shined to perfection, as was his police wallet badge which he made a point of showing to the ladies by holding it up to each of them for a moment longer than one might have thought necessary. He had thick, greying hair topped with a brown trilby which he removed upon stepping through the door, and a huge grey moustache that all but covered most of his mouth. When he spoke the thing wiggled and jumped like something alive. This caused Dorothy, Madame Roux, and Emma to suppress giggles whenever the man turned to speak to them. Combined with his merry, bright blue eyes, he brought to mind the American Santa Claus, rather than a distinguished member of the Met.
