With her broad-rimmed hat adorned with white silk flowers, and her delicate lacy gloves that nearly reached her elbows, Ginger believed she rivalled the actress when it came to glamour. She leaned back onto the lounge chair and daintily propped up one knee beneath the smoky blue crinkled silk of her Canton crepe frock. The breeze blew the oriental crêpe-de-chine trim of the skirt and bell sleeves in elegant waves. When a case required solving in a limited amount of time, taking a moment to enjoy the sun might seem frivolous, but Ginger needed a chance to pause and think. She closed her eyes. Every puzzle could be solved if studied from all angles.

Captain Walsh had been bludgeoned and transported to the cool pantry for preservation. The scene of the crime was unknown, at least to her. Those in relationship to the captain were all possible suspects.

“Just the person I was looking for.”

Ginger smiled at the familiar voice before opening her eyes. “Ah, Chief Inspector Reed. Have you come to enjoy the lovely view?”

“I wish I had opportunity for leisure, Mrs. Gold, but alas, I have a murderer to apprehend.”

Ginger sat up and adjusted her sunhat, ensuring the blue and green floral adornment was situated properly over her ear. “A trite inconvenience to one’s relaxation.”

“Quite right.” The chief inspector removed his Panama straw hat and indicated to the empty lounge chair. “May I join you?”

Attracted to his confident air and admiring the handsome face the good Lord had given him, Ginger stared at the man. She especially appreciated his sense of style, noting his crisp tweed suit with a good crease down the trousers and his two-tone brogue shoes. She smiled. “Of course.”

Instead of relaxing into a vacant lounger with legs outstretched, Chief Inspector Reed balanced at the foot end and leaned his elbows on his knees.

“You look serious,” Ginger said.

“I am. I’ve heard from Scotland Yard. Are you aware that Captain Walsh owed your father money?”

Ginger blinked. “No, I’m not. How much?”

“A good deal. Ten thousand American dollars.”

“What?” Ginger’s mouth dropped open. “I had no idea.”

Basil Reed eyed her carefully before asking, “Are you sure about that?”

“Chief Inspector Reed, what are you suggesting?”

“Perhaps the captain refused to pay up.”

Ginger scoffed. “So, I smacked him over the head a couple times, dragged him to the pantry, and stuffed him into the pickle barrel.”

“Not on your own, perhaps. You would’ve needed help. From a friend?”

“Who? Do you mean Miss Higgins? Most certainly not!”

The chief inspector made a show of looking around the deck. Only a few of the lounge chairs were occupied. “Where is the good nurse?”

“Miss Higgins remains in the room, her nose in a book. She’s quite serious about her studies.”

“As a doctor in training, Miss Higgins likely knows how to stop a heart.”

“I’m sure she could come up with something far more interesting than bludgeoning, which wasn’t what killed the captain, by the way.”

“For the moment, I only have Nurse Higgins’s word on that.”

Ginger huffed. Men.

A bank of clouds rolled in, marring the once-bright blue sky. The wind stirred forcefully, and Ginger’s skirt billowed upwards, revealing a shapely calf. Ginger quickly adjusted the hem.

Basil Reed cleared his throat and set his gaze back to hers. “Mrs. Gold, did you bring a revolver onboard?”

“Chief Inspector!”

“A gun is just another fashion accessory for Americans, but we English take our weapons more seriously.”

“I don’t see how my having a revolver or not is relevant. The captain didn’t die of a gunshot wound.”

“Please answer the question.”

“Oh, drat it. Yes. Yes, I did. A nice little muff pistol.”

“Make and model?”

Ginger stilled, pushing down her annoyance. She jutted her chin out in defiance. “Remington derringer, model 95. Cute little thing.” Daniel had given it to her before he left Boston to join the British Army. “Are you going to take it from me?”

“Why do you carry it?”

“I’m a woman travelling alone to a foreign land.”

“England is hardly foreign to you, and you have a travel companion.”

“Also a woman. We are both vulnerable.”

Basil Reed raised a brow but conceded. “I’ll allow it for now, so long as you promise to register it in London when you get there.”

“Why should I do that? I’m not planning to stay.”

“Then keep it out of sight unless absolutely necessary. If you find your plans change, come to the station. I’ll assess your situation and consider registering permission.”

Ginger could hardly contain her indignation. Sensing his master’s strong emotion, Boss slunk out from under Ginger’s chair.

“Whoa,” Chief Inspector Reed said, jerking back. “I thought dogs weren’t allowed on deck.”

“Boss prefers my company, and he’s really no trouble at all, so long as I keep him out of sight.”

Chief Inspector Reed gave her a sideways glance. “I perceive you are one who doesn’t mind bending the rules. I have to ask, Mrs. Gold, do you always get your way?”

“No.” Not always.

“But often?”

Ginger no longer cared that Chief Inspector Reed was handsome or charming. “What’s your point?”

His lips tugged up to one side. “I’d say don’t leave town, but as we’re on the Rosa, you’ve nowhere to go.” Boss let out a low growl of displeasure. Chief Inspector Reed took a careful step back. Was the good Chief Inspector afraid of dogs? Ginger stifled a smirk.

“Mrs. Gold, isn’t a clandestine pet outing ambitious and a little daring?”

Ginger shrugged and batted her eyelids with innocence. “Those are words I like to live my life by—ambitious and daring. In fact, I want those very words written on my tombstone when I die.”

Basil Reed’s jaw slackened, but then he pressed his lips firmly together.

Boss emitted another low belly growl.

“Boss doesn’t seem to like you, Chief Inspector Reed, which is odd,” Ginger said curtly. “He’s usually such a good judge of character.”