by Lee Strauss
Haley shook Felicia’s hand with a firm grip and said, “Good job, Felicia. Well done.”
Felicia introduced her fellow actors, Mr. Geordie Atkins and Mr. Matthew Haines, but her gaze and smile stayed on the man who played the thief. “And this is Mr. Angus Green.”
Angus shook each lady’s hand as he charmed Ambrosia and showered Ginger with accolades.
“It’s such an honour to meet you, Lady Gold. Felicia has told me so many great things.”
Ginger arched a brow. “Is that so, Mr. Green?”
“Indeed. I hear you’ve started your own business! Very commendable. And that a rather prestigious gala is coming up.”
Ginger laughed. “The rumours are true. Shall you be attending?”
Angus Green’s dark eyes gazed down at Felicia. “If I’m invited.”
Felicia beamed and threaded her fingers through his. “You know I’ve already invited you, silly.” They laughed, and Ginger and Haley shared a look. Felicia was clearly smitten by her colleague.
Tapping her walking stick on the burgundy theatre carpet, Ambrosia’s frown deepened, and her eyes narrowed at the public display of affection. Felicia had the sense to remove her hand from Mr. Green’s.
“Let’s move along, Grandmother,” Ginger said before a displeasing scene could erupt. “We are holding up the queue.”
The next day, Ginger’s chauffeur Clement, a quiet, easy-going, middle-aged man from Yorkshire, drove Ginger to her Regent Street shop. The old 1913 Daimler TE 30 was in great shape, not having been driven much during the previous decade.
Though Ginger preferred to drive the motorcar herself, the bright side was she didn’t have to worry about parking or having to dodge puddles in the street. This was especially good news for Boss, Ginger’s black and white Boston Terrier, who sat eagerly on Ginger’s lap. Instead, she could hop directly onto the pavement by the front entrance of Feathers & Flair.
“Thank you, Clement,” Ginger said as she opened the kerbside door.
“You’re welcome, madam. When should I collect you?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll ring the house when I’m ready.”
“Very well.”
The Daimler puttered away, and Ginger strutted to the shop, one arm holding Boss and the other on her hat as she bore down against the wind.
A short line clogged up the entrance.
“I’m so sorry,” Ginger said. “Please excuse me. I’m the proprietress here.”
“Oh, Lady Gold!” a lady gushed. “I’m so excited to visit your shop. It’s the talk of the fashion district!”
“Thank you. You’re so kind.”
Ginger manoeuvred past the small crowd and made way for a few shoppers to exit. She was happy to see smiles on the women’s faces and large shopping bags in their hands. The patient customers who’d been waiting outside scurried in from the cold.
On seeing Ginger, Madame Roux hurried to her side. The manager wore a sensible but fashionable suit of lavender rayon. Her dark eyes, crinkling with deep crow’s feet at the corners, flashed with excitement. “Incroyable! Word of the gala has spread like feathers from a torn pillow!”
“This is a good problem to have, Madame Roux,” Ginger said.
Feathers & Flair had recently expanded to the second level of the stone building when the previous owner, a shoemaker, had retired and closed his shop. Both floors had ten-foot high creamy white ceilings with edgings painted gold. The floors consisted of polished white marble tiles which glistened under the bright electric crystal lamps. A rich burgundy velvet curtain hung over the archway that divided the front room from the back area.
Before setting Boss on the floor, Ginger wiped his paws with the cotton cloth she carried for this purpose. “To your bed, Bossy,” she instructed. Boss immediately headed to the velvet curtain, pushed his nose through the seam in the middle, and disappeared.
Ginger handed Madame Roux her coat and handbag and headed up the wooden stairwell. The factory-made dresses, located on the upper floor, were always inspected—especially this latest shipment that had arrived for the gala. Several younger patrons clucked over the choices and tried on dresses for size.
“I love not having to wait for something to be made,” one of them said.
Her companion added, “And these prices won’t break the bank.”
Dorothy West, the young floor clerk, moved about with quick strides, her mouth pinched in a tight line. “Dorothy,” Ginger whispered lightly, “do remember to smile.”
The girl’s head snapped towards Ginger’s voice, staring like a nervous bird. The muscles around her small mouth twitched before straining upward. “Yes, Lady Gold. I’m just a tad nervous. Most of the high society ladies I know aren’t as nice as you, madam.”
Ginger herself had trouble with the entitlement of the elite. She smiled her encouragement. “You’ll be fine. Everyone will mellow after drinking his or her first glass of champagne. At least that’s what I’m counting on.”
The muscles in Dorothy’s face relaxed. “Thank you, madam.”
The main floor, where the haute couture designs were displayed, showed the latest samples from all the prestigious fashion houses, both in Europe and America. Ginger admired a new frock—golden sheer over a solid gold chemise. The sheer was stitched with glittery sequins and shiny thread work in Egyptian-inspired designs and hung four inches lower than the chemise underneath to mid-calf. Egyptian themes had become popular in fashion and design since Howard Carter’s discovery of King Tutankhamen’s tomb in ’22, and Ginger was jolly keen about them all.
Ginger’s young designer, Emma Miller, brought more dresses out from the back room to refit the mannequins. She had a ready smile and seemed to sincerely enjoy her job.
“I’ve worked on some new designs,” she said when she saw Ginger. “I’ve sketched them on the easel.”
“I’ll have a look.” Ginger admired the young girl’s eagerness to please and saw real potential in her ideas. Emma Miller could be a big name one day, and Ginger loved that she could be a part of the designer’s success.
A sophisticated lady in a lamb’s wool cape admired the latest frocks in from New York.
“Lady Whitmore,” Ginger said, recognising her. “Welcome to Feathers & Flair.”
“Thank you, Lady Gold. It’s not my first time in, you know.” The lady patted Ginger’s arm and leaned in conspiratorially. “Is it true Mr. Edward Molyneux is to be your guest at the opening gala?”
Ginger smiled broadly. When she’d invited the famous London-born designer, she could only dream that he’d agree to leave his shop in Paris to be her guest. Not only that, he promised to reveal one of his most recent designs at the gala.
“Yes, it is. I’m very excited to have him here.”
“It’s all the talk in the society pages, even though one wouldn’t imagine such an event to be held in a dressmaker’s shop.”
“We’re not a dressmaker’s shop, Lady Whitmore,” Ginger defended. “We’re a dress shop where the finest fashions of the world can be found. It makes sense that a gala to promote them would happen here.”
“Yes, of course. I completely agree. I’m just repeating what I’ve heard.”
Ginger smiled stiffly. She had little patience for gossipers.
Lady Whitmore patted Ginger on the arm. “Word is that royals from all over Europe are coming to London to shop for their spring wardrobe, and especially to see your shop, so don’t you spend one minute worrying about those naysayers’ rumours. Your supply is magnificent, by the way. You know the other shops are up in arms, don’t you? You’ve become major competition and in such a short time. Don’t be surprised if they send spies in as pretend shoppers. After all, the owners wouldn’t dare to enter. Imagine what people would say?”
Ginger left Lady Whitmore to browse, and soon the loquacious lady found another willing to listen to her tittle-tattle. Madame Roux approached Ginger with a customer at her side. The client wore a tan-coloured wool coat that Ginger recognise
d as one of Parisian designer Jean Lanvin’s collection. Tall for a lady, the customer stood straight with the best posture finishing school could produce, despite her bountiful bosom which was bound to weight the lady forward. Her ample bottom accounted for a slight waddle when she walked. She wasn’t what one would call handsome, yet the lady had a familiar look about her. A straight nose, small chin, and grey eyes, heavily made up with blue shadow and thick mascara. Her lips were a glossy red.
“This is Countess Andreea Balcescu from Romania,” Madame Roux said. “This is Lady Gold, the owner of Feathers & Flair.”
Ginger held out a gloved hand. “How do you do, Countess Balcescu. And welcome!”
The countess did not have an easy smile. Most of the aristocracy from the East were suffering from the war’s aftermath. Many were refugees of revolutions, and sometimes, their family lineage had legally and abruptly ended.
“I have heard grand things about your shop,” the countess said, her husky voice hinting at a slight accent. “I have had to leave many of my possessions behind and have great hope to replenish my spring wardrobe in London.”
“I’d most certainly be happy to help you with that. We have the latest fashions shipped in from Paris and New York and have our own fabulous designer in-house. We can produce a unique gown to your liking.”
“That is impressive.”
Ginger presented a turquoise and silver evening gown with fascinating silver embellishments draped over the bodice and light chiffon cap-sleeves. She watched as Countess Balcescu ran her fingers across the dress. Her gloved hands were large but handled the fabric delicately.
Behind them, a display of accessories crashed to the floor making everyone jump.
“Mon Dieu,” Madame Roux exclaimed. Dorothy and Emma hurried to set the display upright and replaced the handbags and scarves.
“How did that happen?” Ginger asked.
“I have no idea,” Madame Roux said. “It’s so crowded, anyone could have bumped it over.”
Or pushed it over. Ginger was reminded of Lady Whitmore’s warning of the other shops sending over spies. Would someone deliberately try to sabotage her event?
That was nonsense talking. The falling display was a mere accident.
The countess wasn’t impressed. “Perhaps I will return another time when things are less . . . hectic.”
Ginger sighed. There went a potential customer, most likely to one of her competitors. Oh well. Couldn’t be helped. These things happened.
The telephone bell rang intermittently with Madame Roux managing the calls, but this time, her manager caught her attention and waved her over.
“The telephone is for you, Lady Gold. It’s Miss Gold.”
Ginger took the receiver. Unlike the older candlestick version installed at Hartigan House, this one was a modern machine with the earpiece and receiver in one which, when not in use, rested horizontally over a boxy unit with a circular dial.
“Felicia?”
“Oh, Ginger. I think something horrible has happened.”
Ginger’s heart skipped a beat. Had something happened at home? Was Ambrosia all right? The matronly lady had a lot of tenacity, but she wasn’t getting any younger. “What is it?”
“Angus Green has gone missing!”
Ginger blinked at the news. Not at all what she was expecting. Angus Green—the handsome young actor Felicia was soft on? “What do you mean he’s missing?”
“He didn’t show up for rehearsal this afternoon and Geordie Atkins says he didn’t come home at all last night. They share a flat, you see.”
“Perhaps he tired of the theatre and left to do something new?”
“I don’t think he would do that. There are still two nights of the show remaining. He wouldn’t leave us high and dry, would he? Besides, he promised me we’d celebrate together when it ended.”
Felicia’s voice caught, and Ginger felt a wave of sympathy. “Are there any indications of foul play?”
“Geordie said his room had been roughed up. Apparently Angus is a tidy type of fellow. And now that I think of it, he had seemed rather tense these last few days, like he had something on his mind.”
“Have you called the police?”
“Yes, but they’re not taking us seriously. They think Mr. Green is just a wild sort, doing his own thing. Ginger, you have to find him.”
“Me?”
“Mr. Haines is moneyed. He says he’ll pay you.”
Ginger sputtered, “I’m not a private investigator, Felicia.”
“But you are! You’ve solved so many mysteries since coming to England. Please Ginger, take the case.”
Ginger gaped at her sister-in-law’s plea.
Oh, mercy.
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About the Author
Lee Strauss is a USA TODAY bestselling author of The Ginger Gold Mysteries series, The Higgins & Hawke Mystery series (cozy historical mysteries), A Nursery Rhyme Mystery series (mystery suspense), The Perception series (young adult dystopian), The Light & Love series (sweet romance), The Clockwise Collection (YA time travel romance), and young adult historical fiction with over a million books read. She has titles published in German, Spanish and Korean, and a growing audio library.
When Lee’s not writing or reading she likes to cycle, hike, and play pickleball. She loves to drink caffè lattes and red wines in exotic places, and eat dark chocolate anywhere.
For more info on books by Lee Strauss and her social media links, visit leestraussbooks.com. To make sure you don’t miss the next new release, be sure to sign up for her readers’ list!
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www.leestraussbooks.com
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Acknowledgments
Much love to the growing list of fans who love to hang out with Ginger Gold! You make writing these books a joy.
I couldn’t do it without the help of my superhero team, Angelika Offenwanger, Robbi Bryant, Heather Belleguelle, and Shadi Bleiken. You guys rock!
As always, my heart belongs to my family—my husband Norm Strauss and kids, Joel, Levi, Jordan and Tasia. A special thanks and love shout out to my parents, Gene and Lucille Franke and my circle, Donna, Shawn, Noreen and Lori. I’m so grateful for your prayers and practical support.
Forever grateful to God who keeps me.
Murder at Bray Manor
© 2017 Lee Strauss
Cover by Steven Novak
Illustrations by Tasia Strauss
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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ISBN: 978-1-988677-06-4
