by Lee Strauss
“Are you all right?” Haley asked, bracing herself against the brass rail on the other side of the room.
“I will be. I just don’t like the idea of perishing at sea.”
“We’re not going to per—” The bow raised sharply in a dangerous angle. Both Ginger and Haley lost their grip and were flung across the room. Fortunately, they rolled in the direction of the beds and crashed into their soft surfaces. Boss yelped as he fell to the floor.
“Boss!”
The ship levelled, allowing the poor hound to run to Ginger. If he’d had a tail, Ginger wouldn’t doubt it would be situated between his legs in fear.
“Haley, if we die tonight, I want you to know I love you as a sister.”
“Oh, Ginger. You know I feel the same, but we’re not going to die.”
“How do you know?”
“Gut feeling. Besides, we can’t die without first clearing your name.”
“So right, Nurse Higgins.”
The storm persisted in its intensity for a good hour. Ginger’s legs tired from constantly bracing herself, and she was grateful she hadn’t eaten much that evening. No doubt there would be some unpleasant messes to clean up when this was over.
The wind and rain eventually eased, and Haley lit the candles. Ginger comforted Boss whilst greedily being comforted in return. She felt for Haley, who had no one to hold.
Ginger lifted Boss towards her. “Would you like a turn?”
Haley snorted lightly. “I’ll pass.” After helping Ginger collect her hats and deposit them back in their corresponding boxes, she returned her books to the table. “I guess I’ll have to study by candlelight.”
Ginger rested in her bed with Boss tucked in beside her, her mind a jumble of thoughts. She considered the revelation made by Chief Inspector Reed, and his suspicions about her personal life. Had the mystery attached to her name made her more of a suspect in the chief inspector’s mind, or less so?
Then there was Babineaux—who now jumped to the top of the suspect list. He had motive and opportunity, but Ginger still lacked a reason for his keeping the corpse rather than disposing of it. Haley’s suggestion that a crime mob might be involved had merit. It was quite possible that Babineaux needed to prove to someone that the death had occurred.
However, if that was the case, it didn’t make sense why he’d reveal the body in the first place. Had he not pointed it out, everyone would’ve assumed the captain ended up overboard.
“I think I’m going to call it a night,” Haley said as she closed her books and put her pencils away in a drawer. Ginger agreed and replaced her day dress with her nightclothes. After cleaning up in the lavatory, she tucked into bed. The ship’s lurching calmed to a rhythmic rocking, and hopefully would help lull her to sleep.
Haley blew out the candles and said good night.
Ginger was about to respond in kind when she remembered.
“Haley, I almost forgot to tell you. Someone left me a note.”
Ginger heard Haley shift her body weight to face her. “What did it say?”
“‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll mind your own business.’”
Chapter Twenty-One
It was to Ginger’s great relief that the storm abated overnight, and the sun once again broke through the clouds the next morning. Neither she nor Haley felt up to a full breakfast and decided a quiet morning inside was in order. They took a simple glass of orange juice with them to their room.
Ginger opted to keep Boss with her after their short visit to the kennel (which smelt worse than ever; her heart went out to the poor steerage folk). She explained to Scout, whom she was relieved to see had sustained himself through the storm, that Boss was fairly nervous as a result and should stay by her side for the day.
“Are you going to report your uncomfortable encounter with Babineaux to Chief Inspector Reed?” Haley asked.
“It occurred to me,” Ginger admitted, “but in truth, I was the one in the wrong, having been found trespassing. Except for Babineaux’s menacing body language—which I could’ve misinterpreted; the lighting in that room is terrible, and no doubt we both looked like ghouls—the cook never did anything untoward. I’m afraid the chief inspector would just give me one of his haughty looks, along with a lecture to leave the police work to him.”
“Not bad advice,” Haley said strongly. “If Babineaux is the killer, you really could be putting your life at risk.”
Ginger agreed. “He’s obviously quite smitten with Mrs. Walsh and seems compelled to protect her. Apparently, the captain could be quite wicked with his words.”
“Babineaux wanting to release his lady love from distress is a powerful motive for murder.”
Ginger gracefully crossed one leg over another. “Mrs. Walsh has her own motive.”
“Right, the mistress.”
“So sad to be locked in an unhappy marriage,” Ginger said sombrely.
“Better to be single, I say,” Haley replied. “So, where does this leave Nancy Guilford and Officer MacIntosh? They are in cahoots in some form or fashion. There’s not a legitimate reason for him to be a guest in her private room.”
“Miss Guilford and the first officer each have a potential motive for wanting the captain dead,” Ginger said. “Perhaps with them it’s a case of working together for a common goal, and not a lover’s liaison.”
“Well, if it’s not the cook and the wife, then it’s probably the actress and the officer.”
“Unfortunately, we have no proof.”
Haley nodded. “And time is ticking.”
By noon, their stomachs felt a tad steadier, and they ventured towards the dining hall. Seamen continued to work vigorously to mop away standing water and ocean debris that the waves had flung on deck. Ginger and Haley clung to each other to prevent themselves from a fall on the slippery surface.
The hall was spectacularly empty, and Ginger didn’t doubt that many folk were still curled up in their beds recovering from the storm. After a light meal, Ginger collected Boss, and she and Haley joined a few other heartier travellers on the main deck, each claiming a free lounge chair to enjoy the sun. Ginger and Haley claimed a lounger, one next to the other, and Boss rested in the shade between them.
Ginger adjusted her grey straw hat, the wide brim pinned up at the front and decorated with two sprigs of imitation grapes. “I’m surprised you didn’t vote to stay in the room to study.”
“Even God took a day off.”
“Oh, is it Sunday?”
Haley closed her eyes and tilted her chin to the rays. “It is to me.”
As time went on, more passengers joined them for fresh air and sunshine after being holed up in their rooms during the storm. The women wore light cotton or rayon day frocks, with straw hats and white gloves. The men kept to light-coloured linen suits and matching flat linen caps. Well-dressed children held on to their mother’s skirts, and Ginger spotted a small girl wearing a pretty chemise Jeanne Lanvin frock.
A man wearing a white shirt and thin black tie under a Fair Isle sweater slowed his pace as he walked by and tipped his hat at Ginger. She smiled and watched as he joined a woman reclining in a chair down the row.
“Men!” Haley spat. “That was an obvious pass at you, and he’s got a lady waiting only a few yards away.”
Ginger sobered. “All the good ones died in the war.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Haley reached for Ginger’s hand and squeezed. “I can be so thoughtless at times.”
“It’s quite all right. Now, where were we?”
“In the middle of solving a mystery.”
“Yes. So much more fun than men.”
Haley grinned, and Ginger laughed.
Elise Walsh eventually ventured out in her trademark black, narrow-waist dress suitable for a woman in mourning. Long black-lace gloves reached her elbows, and her eyes were partially hidden behind a black veil pinned to her short-brimmed hat.
Ginger noted with interest that Mrs. Walsh’s
cheeks sported a colour she hadn’t had before. She whispered to Haley, “Mrs. Walsh is looking better than ever.”
“You’ve heard the term, ‘happy widow’?” Haley said.
Mrs. Walsh walked past Ginger and Haley without acknowledging them. Ginger was just about to call out, when Nancy Guilford turned the corner onto the lounge deck and nearly ran head-on into Elise Walsh. The heat of bitterness flashed between them, and Ginger worried that if they had been men and not refined women, a fistfight might’ve broken out.
Mrs. Walsh skirted around Nancy in a self-righteous huff, while Nancy’s stare was like a knife blade to the widow’s back.
“No love lost there,” Haley said after a moment.
Ginger agreed. “One probably suspects the other.”
“One is probably right.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nancy Guilford took up a position at the rail looking out to sea. She fished out a cigarette—not bothering with a holder—lit the tip and inhaled deeply. She released a puff of smoke through her bright red, lipstick-laden lips and promptly inhaled again. Ginger thought this an indication that Nancy Guilford’s encounter with Mrs. Walsh unnerved her.
Ginger tugged on Boss’s leash as she got to her feet. She nodded towards the actress and Haley followed.
“Hello,” Ginger called out.
Nancy Guilford eyed Ginger and Haley cautiously as they approached. “Hello, ladies, how are ya?”
“Terrific,” Ginger said. “Such a lovely day.”
“Especially after yesterday’s storm,” Nancy said. “Poor Patty was in the toilet the whole time, emptying her stomach.”
“Beyond that unfortunate patch of weather, it’s been a particularly pleasant summer,” Haley said. “I’m happy to have escaped the humidity.”
“You can say that again,” Nancy said as she released another puff of smoke “Which is why I so much prefer the West Coast. Los Angeles has delightfully dry summers.”
“What brings you to England?” Ginger asked.
“My agent wants to introduce me to an important playwright. He believes I would be perfect for the lead in an upcoming production.”
Ginger found that hard to imagine with the calf-like sound of the actress’s voice, but said, “Sounds exciting.”
Nancy shrugged and let her cigarette fall into the ocean. “It’s work.”
Patty approached, still looking a tad green around the gills. “Here’s your coffee, Miss Guilford,” she said, handing Nancy a mug. Nancy took it without a word of thanks, and Ginger wondered what she had on Patty Applebalm that she could get the older woman to wait on her hand and foot like that.
Patty waited for further instructions, and when none came, settled herself onto one of the lounge chairs.
Ginger lowered her voice. “Has Patty been with you long?”
“Oh, Patty?” Nancy glanced at her assistant. “Sure. She’s a trouper. No family to speak of, so I never have to worry about her ditchin’ me. I treat her decent-like, ya know. For a woman her age, there ain’t a lot of good jobs around.”
Nancy Guilford had her story down when it came to her pseudo-relationship with her aunt.
“I’m certain she is quite in your debt,” Ginger said.
Nancy’s eyes flashed with something hard to define before she changed the subject. “What are you gals gonna do in England? Gonna take in any theatre? I hear they’ve got some great plays.”
“No, nothing so exciting as that,” Ginger said. She recounted her father’s passing and her subsequent need to handle the estate, and Haley’s entry into medical school.
“Wowza,” Nancy said loudly. “A lady doctor! I’m impressed.” Ginger believed Nancy to be sincere in her proclamation because her thinly veiled interest in the plainer woman disappeared. She now considered Haley with real admiration.
“Could I enquire,” Ginger said, “has Chief Inspector Reed given you any clue as to who might be behind the captain’s death? Or who might be behind the blackmail?”
Nancy stiffened at the question, then fell into her role play and smiled. “No, but I wish he would. And ain’t he just the most dashing man! I promised to meet up with him in London for drinks.”
The thought of Basil Reed seeing Nancy Guilford socially did something strange to Ginger’s stomach, but she ignored it and pressed on. “I’m sure he’ll show you a good time.”
A late afternoon breeze stirred, tangling loose strands of Nancy’s golden hair. “It’s been nice chatting, but I need to get out of the wind.” She motioned to Patty. “A scarf.”
Patty peeled herself off the chair and returned to Nancy, carrying a leather satchel. As Nancy began to walk away, Patty reached into the bag to retrieve a colourful silk scarf. She passed it to Nancy, who pulled it over her head and tied it underneath her chin. She finger-waved with long, delicate fingers. “See ya around!”
Ginger and Haley watched them go.
“Interesting,” Haley said.
Boss stretched out on his leash and sniffed at a small object on the deck floor. Ginger hurried to examine the item and picked it up. “Good boy, Boss.”
“What is it?” Haley asked.
“It must’ve caught on Nancy’s scarf.” Ginger held up a lone cuff link, its fleur de lis insignia flashing in the rays of the setting sun. “I think I know who the killer couple is.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ginger had an idea, relayed it to Haley, and they parted ways. Ginger dropped Boss off at her room, then headed back to the starboard corridor and knocked on Miss Guilford’s door. As if she was expecting company, Nancy Guilford opened it, her expression of glee slipping into dismay. She wore a slinky dress and held two empty champagne flutes.
“Celebrating?” Ginger said. She didn’t wait to be invited in and pushed herself past the actress.
“Hey, wait a minute. You got no right to barge in here like that.”
“Who are you waiting for?” Ginger countered. “Your partner in crime?”
Nancy fell into the role of an innocent. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She put the flutes down on the sideboard and lit up a cigarette, this time using an ebony holder. She slid languidly into a chair, crossing long legs.
“Have I mentioned I’m a big fan of yours,” Ginger said. “I’ve seen all your films.” Nancy perked up a little at that.
“As a courtesy and because I’m such a big fan, I thought I should tell you...” She held out the sentence until she was certain she had Nancy’s attention.
“Tell me what?” Nancy prompted impatiently.
“I thought you should know that Mrs. Elise Walsh has implicated you for the murder of her husband.”
Nancy blew out a puff of air. “Well, that’s not so astonishing, is it? Of course, the wife would accuse the mistress.”
“She says she has proof.”
For the first time, Nancy looked troubled. Her eyelashes fluttered. “She’s bluffing.”
Ginger noticed the door to the adjoining room had slid open a crack since they arrived and wasn’t surprised when the eavesdropper slipped in.
“Hello, Miss Applebalm.”
Patty pinned Ginger with a steely gaze, but spoke to Nancy. “Is everything all right, Miss Guilford?”
“Everything’s hunky-dory, Patty. Mrs. Gold was just leaving.”
“Suit yourself,” Ginger said casually. “Forewarned is forearmed, you know.”
By the time she got to the door, someone knocked on the other side. “Chief Officer MacIntosh! Fancy meeting you here.”
MacIntosh’s eyes darted from Ginger to Nancy, and Nancy just shrugged. “She showed up uninvited.”
“Is this another example of your courtesy?” Ginger said. “Making sure a passenger is comfortable? I’m still waiting for a visit from you, in that case.” She folded her arms. “In fact, I’m growing more and more ‘uncomfortable’.”
MacIntosh straightened and called on the authority of his position to excuse himself. “Miss Guilfor
d, would you like to accompany me to... somewhere else, where we may discuss matters in private?”
She stamped out her cigarette in a large porcelain ashtray and jumped to her feet. “Yes, please.”
“But, Officer MacIntos—” Ginger started.
He pointed a thick finger in her direction. “I don’t have to justify my actions and whereabouts to you, Mrs. Gold.” Just as he reached for the knob, there was another knock.
“Is there a party scheduled in my room today that I didn’t know about?” Nancy said. The door opened to Mrs. Walsh. Her bloodshot eyes and the fiery redness in her cheeks spoke volumes. She was unable to compose herself, even after registering that Nancy Guilford wasn’t alone.
“Are you quite all right, Mrs. Walsh?” MacIntosh said.
“What are you doing here?” Nancy said.
Elise Walsh glared at Nancy and hissed, “We need to speak in private.”
“Why? So you can accuse me of murder?”
Mrs. Walsh stepped across the room. “Like you accused me?”
Haley had delivered the same message to Elise Walsh as Ginger had relayed to Nancy Guilford, planting the accusation from one to the other.
Nancy shouted. “I didn’t accuse you!”
“Ladies, ladies,” Ginger said. “Perhaps I can help.” She produced the cuff link, and silence fell as everyone stared at it. “This dropped onto the deck, Miss Guilford, when Miss Applebalm removed your scarf from her bag. It belonged to Captain Walsh.”
MacIntosh’s eyes locked on Nancy Guilford.
“It’s no secret I was involved with the captain,” Nancy said defensively.
“Mrs. Walsh, I believe you have the other one?” Ginger said.
“So? Why wouldn’t I have my own husband’s cuff links?”
