by Lee Strauss
"Oh, excuse me, Lady Gold!" Her voice was tinged with weariness. "I feel I'm wearing a path to the loo these days!" She rubbed her protruding belly. "I pity women who are still using chamber pots."
"It's quite all right, Miss Hanson. I do hope you can get some rest now."
"You and me both."
Back in her bedroom, Ginger opened the doors to her wardrobe. The bright May day warranted a happy blue frock with a white sailor collar trimmed in gold ribbon. It had round bone buttons down the front beyond the horizontal band that fit around the hips. A sheer netting hung open over the blue rayon skirt that landed mid-calf. Even though the outfit would be hidden under her spring jacket, one never knew what might happen in one's day, and Ginger had learned to be prepared for anything. She finished up with light makeup and a matching blue sea-themed cloche hat.
"That should do, Bossy. Let's see if we can scrounge up some breakfast before we go."
Ginger had risen earlier than she usually did, but Mrs. Beasley, the cook, rose even earlier. Ginger was heartened by the smell of fresh bread.
"Good morning, Mrs. Beasley," she said brightly.
Mrs. Beasley jumped back from the stove where bacon sizzled in hot grease. "Oh, madam," she said with a puffy hand to her chest. "You startled me. Good morning'."
"I'm sorry about that," Ginger said sincerely. "It smells heavenly in here!"
"I'll quickly scramble up some eggs, madam." She turned to her assistant, Grace. "Get Lady Gold some tea.”
The young maid bobbed and immediately filled a kettle at the sink. Scout scampered down the stairs from the attic and almost fell into the room. "Is Boss here, yet?"
Ginger chuckled. "He is and must be let outside at once, though I'll do the morning walk myself today."
Scout's young eyes looked briefly disappointed, but Boss' affections quickly put the smile back on his face. They disappeared into the back garden, and Ginger left for the morning room. French windows overlooked the garden veranda. Ginger opened them, allowing the sweet scent of the spring flora to filter in.
Pippins presented the morning edition of an American paper Ginger subscribed to. It was nearly a week late, but Ginger found it helped her to keep track of what was going on in America—her second home.
"Thank you, dear Pips."
Pippins, a genial septuagenarian had been employed by the Hartigan family for years, and Ginger considered him part of the family. His cornflower-blue eyes relayed his affection for Ginger, which she returned in huge measure. Now that her father was gone, Pips’ presence was a comfort.
"So, what's going on in the world today, Pips?"
"It's a hundred and eight degrees in the state of Oregon," Pippins said. "A place called Blitzen."
"Oh mercy," Ginger said. "In May?" She smirked at her butler. "I suppose when you name your town 'lightning' it's bound to get hot."
Pippins ducked his chin allowing for a small smile at her German language joke. "We can be thankful for our tolerable spring here in jolly old London," he said.
Lizzie, a young maid with short dark hair tucked under a maid's cap, entered with the tea. "You're up early this morning, madam."
"I always wake earlier when the sun is out. Can't take sunshine for granted around here."
Lizzie poured for Ginger and nodded. "That's the truth, madam."
Scout returned with Boss in tow. "His business is done, missus."
"Great. By the way, Scout, how have your lessons been going?"
Scout wrinkled his small nose. "My fingers is crampin’ wiv all the writin', and I 'specially dun’t like numbers."
"You're just not used to it yet," Ginger encouraged. "The better you get at something, the more you'll like it."
"If you say so, missus. I gotta go ‘n’ feed Goldmine now."
"Of course."
The rest of Ginger's breakfast arrived. Haley hadn't appeared, and Ginger had no one to talk to. She finished quickly, and before long, she had Boss on a leash and was walking him toward Kensington Gardens, only a short stroll across Kensington Road. Several princesses, a couple of princes, and a marchioness were among the current occupants, though one would be hard-pressed to ever spot one of them in the park.
Ginger made a turn down Flower Walk toward the Albert Memorial. Songbirds chirped from their perches in birch and sweet chestnut trees. Rose gardens burst brightly into bloom. With such beauty as this, Ginger couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment. All was well with the world.
Until it wasn't.
Boss alerted Ginger to trouble with sharp barks. Instead of his middling interest in the foliage, taking moments to mark one or two in the way dogs do, he tugged on his leash, leading Ginger to one particular bush. Ginger spotted a lady's boot, and her pulse raced. She ran to the object until the owner was in view. A woman lay facedown on the dew-covered grass. Partially clothed, it looked like the victim had been attacked. She was hatless, and her hair hung in loose, matted waves down her back.
Ginger removed her glove and pressed two fingers to the woman's neck. Her skin was blue and cold. The woman was dead. Knowing not to move the body, Ginger lifted it gently, just to get a view of the face. She let out an audible gasp.
The body belonged to Emelia Reed.
Chapter Six
Oh, mercy.
Foam? Vomit? A white substance traced Emelia's blue lips. The sleeves of her frock were torn, and the hem was pushed up over her knees. She was underdressed for the season, but Ginger could see no sign of a discarded coat or hat.
No obvious puncture wounds or blood, but her forearms showed bruising. Distinctive marks, like thumbprints. The fingers of Emelia's right hand was closed in a fist, and Ginger pried them open, removing the small item. A hair clip.
Ginger thought her throat would close up. A Lucy and Edgardo story button pin. The rare pin that had previously belonged to Dorothy West's grandmother? How was Ginger's shop assistant involved?
Boss whined at her feet.
"I know, Boss. This is terrible." However Emelia Reed had died, it was clear it wasn't natural or accidental.
Ginger ran back to the path and called for help. Soon she had the attention of a stocky police officer on foot patrol.
"Constable! Come quickly. Please. A woman has been killed."
Ginger had confirmed the identity of the body to the constable, instructing him to talk to someone other than Basil when he called the Yard. Still, Basil was intuitive, a trait that made him good at his job, and it wouldn't take much to set his nose on the scent that something was up.
Ginger sighed when she spotted the large, lumbering body of Superintendent Morris pad towards her. She'd had her run-ins with the obstinate man in the past.
"Why am I not surprised to see you here, Lady Gold?" he bellowed.
"I was simply out walking my dog, Superintendent," Ginger stated, safely tucking Boss under her arm. She didn't want one of the officers to accidentally step on the small animal.
"And you've confirmed the identity, I understand." He frowned as he took in the scantily dressed body lying face down.
"I only lifted the body slightly to look at the face," Ginger said defensively. "You can imagine my shock."
A familiar voice called out: female and American. "Ginger?"
"Miss Higgins!" The sight of Haley approaching flooded Ginger with relief. "Are you the acting medical examiner?"
"Dr. Wood has a bad case of indigestion, so he sent me on ahead." Haley, wearing her standard no-nonsense tweed suit and low-heel Oxfords approached the body with a doctor's bag in hand. Ginger bent down beside her. "It's Emelia Reed."
Haley's brown eyes flashed in disbelief.
"May I move the body, Superintendent?" Haley asked stiffly. She also wasn't a fan of the blustering, over-sized man.
Superintendent Morris lifted a beefy palm. "One moment, Miss Higgins. Let's not be hasty. When did you say Dr. Wood was coming?"
"Shortly."
"We'll wait for him then.” He muttered someth
ing about females doing a man's job. Ginger pinched her lips tight to keep from letting him have it.
Pushed to the side, Ginger and Haley watched as the gruff superintendent examined the scene. "This bloody sunshine has dried the turf. Not one bloody footprint." He motioned to a constable. "Anything?"
The constable shook his head. "We've searched the area, sir. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"Did anyone hear or see anything? Early morning dog-walkers?"
The constable tilted his head towards Ginger. "Just this lady, sir."
"Right, right, right." Superintendent Morris focused in on Ginger like a bull on a red cape. He stomped over and demanded, "Tell me everything that happened."
"As I mentioned before, I was simply out walking my dog." She stroked the animal's head. "It was Boss who alerted me."
Superintendent Morris' thick brow buckled. "Your boss alerted you? I wasn't aware you were in someone's employ."
"Boss is my dog."
Superintendent Morris snorted. "That'd be the day when a mutt was the boss of me."
"He's not a mutt. He's a Boston terrier." Ginger was losing patience with the superintendent's abrasive manner and his apparent purposeful ignorance.
Superintendent Morris dismissed her comment with a wave of his beefy hand. "Then what happened?"
Before Ginger could answer, Dr. Wood arrived. His brow was damp with perspiration, and his skin was pale. He indeed looked like he was suffering from some ailment.
"Miss Higgins?" he said. "What have you learned?"
"Nothing so far, sir. Superintendent Morris refused to give me access to the body."
Dr. Wood sent Superintendent Morris a withering look. "Why on earth not?"
Superintendent Morris stammered. "She's not a doctor!"
"Miss Higgins is my summer intern and is here on my authority."
Haley cast a wry glance Ginger’s way and Ginger bit the inside of her lip. She liked Dr. Wood. He took no guff from the superintendent.
Superintendent Morris wrinkled his face and turned back to Ginger. "Continue, madam."
Please.
Ginger had no choice but to ignore the superintendent's rudeness. "First, I saw her boot. It extended just beyond the bush. When I went over to investigate, I discovered the body. I first checked for a pulse and on finding none, I immediately returned to the path in search of assistance, and that constable," Ginger nodded to the stocky foot officer, "responded to my calls for help."
The superintendent raised a bushy brow. "You immediately called for help?"
"Well, I took a peek at the face, first. I didn't move the body, just lifted it slightly. That's when I recognized Mrs. Reed."
Superintendent Morris sniffed. "That's all for now. You may go."
"May I?" Ginger asked impertinently. Kensington Gardens was a public park, and she would go when it very well pleased her!
"Yes, Lady Gold," Superintendent Morris responded, not catching Ginger's sarcasm. "And it goes without saying that you are to stay out of the investigation!"
"Of course," Ginger said, Dorothy West's hair clip pressed firmly in her hand.
"Dr. Wood," Superintendent Morris bellowed. "Cause of death?"
"I'm afraid that's undetermined," Dr. Wood said. "We need to take the body to the mortuary for a postmortem."
"What about time of death, then?" Superintendent Morris asked impatiently.
"Rigor has yet to set in," Haley answered in Dr. Wood's stead. "I'd say two to three hours ago."
Superintendent Morris snorted and stared at Dr. Wood.
Dr. Wood held his stomach, distinctly uncomfortable with whatever was going on inside there. "I concur with Miss Higgins. The postmortem may narrow that window." Dr. Wood walked away without saying another word.
A commotion stirred up with the arrival of the ambulance attendants.
"Emelia?"
Ginger's chest caved. "Basil!" She handed Boss to Haley and ran to him.
His eyes flickered wildly as he tried to see past her. "Is it true? Is it Emelia?"
Ginger's mouth dropped open. Dear God, am I to be the one to announce that his estranged wife is dead?
He didn't wait for her to answer but dodged past her to where Emelia’s body lay, now face turned to the sky.
"No, Emelia! No, no, no!" Basil skidded to his knees and leaned over Emelia Reed's dead, half-dressed form. His face paled to a ghostly white as the muscles in his jaw twitched, and his lips worked in vain to check his emotions. He pinched his eyes tight as his hand went to his face and his heavy shoulders trembled. Try as he might, the stalwart man couldn't keep a sob from escaping.
Ginger watched in stunned silence.
Chapter Seven
Goldmine, Ginger’s gorgeous new horse, was an Akhal-Teke. Originally from Turkmenistan, the rare breed was known for its silky hair. Goldmine's golden mane shone brilliantly in the mid-morning sun.
The weather was perfect for a ride through Hyde Park. The air smelled sweet and fresh, and the warmth of the sun's rays soothed the tension in Ginger's face. Goldmine carried Ginger as if she were royalty—the gelding’s gait smooth and confident. The comforting clip-clop of his shoes on the path created a lovely melody. The sheen of Goldmine's spectacular coat caught the eye of every passer-by. Ginger nodded proudly. With a straw cloche hat and a pale yellow riding blazer, she wore her new riding skirt, astride.
Ginger had been rapturous to leave her side-saddle in Boston. How liberating to ride like a man, well-balanced and one with the horse. No more twisted hips and fear of being tossed about like a bag of potatoes. Ginger's boldness elicited the occasional glare of disapproval from both men and women alike, but she wouldn't let their old-fashioned beliefs deter her. Suffrage had brought women more than just the vote.
She should be deliriously happy, but instead, she felt like a hollowed-out shell. The image of Basil weeping for his wife replayed in her mind like a silent film. All this time he'd been courting Ginger—he'd only just yesterday declared his love for her! —he was still in love with Emelia.
Hypocrite!
Wasn't she guilty of the same thing with Daniel?
When Basil had been recovering from his gunshot wound in the hospital, Ginger had witnessed Emelia with him moments before she left his room in tears. Ginger had assumed—based on the fact that Emelia disappeared and Basil now called on Ginger—that Basil had been the one to send Emelia away, that he'd finally had enough of her philandering ways. But maybe, Emelia had left Basil, the tears pouring from her eyes because once again, she had broken his heart?
When Ginger approached the park, she let the gelding loose with a click of her tongue and a snap of the reins. Bending low, boots firmly in the stirrups, her thighs pinching the saddle, she forced her mind to empty, to become one with the horse. Goldmine's gallop was so smooth that Ginger felt as if she were flying with the wind. For those few blessed moments, she was free from the tangled, strangling pain in her heart. For two minutes, she forgot about Basil Reed.
By the time Ginger got back to the stable at Hartigan House, she felt better. She was a strong woman, master of her emotions. She would be fine.
"Missus!" Scout shouted on seeing her. "How'd Goldmine do?"
"Marvellous," Ginger said as she dismounted. "Did you want to go for a ride?"
Scout's chin fell, and he shuffled backwards shyly. "Na, I couldn't."
"Why not? You were the one to name him after all."
Scout's head bobbed up with his big smile fixed in place. "I did, dinn't I? But, missus, I dunno 'ow to ride. I mean, I’s fine with 'orses from the ground, but that's way up there!"
Ginger tried not to smile. She knew her charge couldn't ride. Learning how was, mostly, a privilege held by the upper classes. "It's horse, Scout. You must learn to pronounce the H."
"Yes, missus," Scout said with an exasperated breath. "Horse."
"How about I teach you? I won't let go of the reins. I'll just lead you in the garden behind the garage."
"
Yer won’t let go?"
"I promise."
Ginger hoisted Scout onto Goldmine and adjusted the stirrups to fit his short legs. "Just hold onto the saddle," she instructed, unnecessarily. Scout’s small knuckles grew white as he held on for dear life.
"Go slow!"
"I will," Ginger said taking Goldmine forward a few steps. "The trick to riding is to relax. A horse can feel if its rider is nervous, and it makes them nervous."
"It ain't so easy, missus. I dun’t wanna fall."
"You'll catch on, Scout. I have faith in you."
After a short trip around the garage and back, Scout had learned to relax a little.
"See, that wasn't so bad," Ginger said.
"It was great, missus! I love Goldmine so much!"
Ginger chuckled. "He loves you too. Now, I'll help you down, and you can cool Goldmine off."
Scout led Goldmine into his stall. Ginger instructed him on how to remove the saddle—on the heavy side for a small lad, but he managed. "You already know how to remove the bit and how to brush him down."
"I do, missus."
Ginger was about to leave when she remembered something else. "I spoke to Reverend Hill, Scout. He said he'd like to talk to you about Marvin."
Scout's countenance darkened. "Oh, I dun’t fink so, missus."
"Why not? I thought you and he were friends."
"It's not Reverend ’ill, just the church 'all. Reminds me of when I always was 'ungry. I ain't been 'ungry since coming to 'artigan 'ouse."
If Ginger's heartstrings hadn't been pulled by Scout's confession, she would've insisted he repeat himself and pick up all the H's. Instead, she held onto her emotion and spoke softly. "Well, you won't be hungry when you go there this time, and you won't be staying for long, just for a visit. I thought it might help you to have a man to talk to."
"I talk to Mr. Pippins and Mr. Clement."
"Of course. I meant a man who knows Marvin. I could invite him to come to see you here."
"I suppose, dat would be all right."
