CHAPTER NINETEEN

After so much exuberant dancing, Ginger felt the need to soothe her throat with a drink of sparkling water. She returned to the table where she’d left her feather boa and her silver-studded handbag, and while partaking of the water found there, she spotted a small piece of plain white notepaper sticking out from underneath the clutch. Her skin grew cool as she read it.

Ginger scoured the room. Who could the messenger be?

Nancy Guilford was dancing with yet another new partner. Ginger had been so engrossed in her conversation with Basil Reed she hadn’t noticed if Nancy Guilford stepped off the dance floor. It wouldn’t have taken much for her to slip the note to Ginger on her way to visiting the ladies’ room.

Other potentially guilty parties in the dance hall were Chief Officer MacIntosh, and Babineaux, who oversaw the refreshments. Mrs. Walsh, of course, was missing, as her presence as a recent widow would be scandalous. That didn’t mean that she might not have taken a peek inside, possibly even asked one of the waiters to deliver the note for her.

As Ginger stood there considering, she felt as if she was being watched. Her first assumption was Basil Reed, but a glance in his direction saw him dancing with another woman, his attention fixed on her. Then her eyes landed back on Babineaux, who stared at her unabashedly. Was he signalling to her that he left the note?

She grabbed her clutch and made a trip to the lavatory. As she checked her hair and lipstick, she wondered how to get back into the pantry where the body was found. Ginger couldn’t help feeling that she was missing an important piece to the puzzle. Maybe there was something she had missed. Everything had happened so fast on the day of the captain’s murder, and the room had been full of people. If she could get in there to see it for herself without distraction, and let her mind work, maybe it would come to her. Ginger made her way to her table, but halfway there, she turned on her heel. Walking back to the ladies’ room as if she had forgotten something, she made a detour just as she got to the door, and instead, exited the ballroom.

With the ball keeping most of the crew and staff occupied, Ginger sneaked to the kitchen below. When she reached the level of the pantries, it occurred to her that they might be locked. She came to the dry pantry first and checked the door. It opened easily, perhaps kept unlocked for convenience’s sake. The door to the cool pantry was also unlocked. She flicked the light switch and stepped inside. Shivering, she hugged her boa and her clutch to her chest.

The near-empty shelves had only enough supplies to last one more day. Along the back were the barrels—the one where the captain was found was dismantled and set up against the wall. A string of rope marked off the crime scene. The scuff marks on the floor remained, but it wasn’t clear if they belonged to the kitchen crew or to the intruders.

Ginger wasn’t sure what she thought she might find there, but nothing obvious popped out. She turned away with a measure of disappointment. Heading to the door, she stuttered to a stop. The entrance was blocked.

Ginger took a step back, holding a hand to her heart. “Monsieur Babineaux, you frightened me.”

Babineaux furrowed his bushy brows. “What are you doing here, Mrs. Gold?”

His dark eyes were fully dilated in the dim light, making him look sinister. Was Ginger looking into the black, beady eyes of a killer?

“I was just considering the case,” she said. “I thought maybe I overlooked a clue in the pantry, but I’ve failed to discover anything new.”

Babineaux took a step closer, further blocking her exit. Ginger was smart enough to feel a modicum of fear, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. “Did you leave me the note?”

The cook’s eyes flickered. “I know of no note.”

Ginger stared back. He was either lying or protecting someone.

“It ees dangerous to wander around the ship alone, no?” Babineaux said. “You must be aware that you are trespassing.”

The shadows from the nearby bulb cast eerie, ominous lines across Babineaux’s face. Ginger regretted not putting her revolver in her clutch bag, though at the time she was getting ready for the dance, such precautions seemed unnecessary. If she was to die now at the hands of Babineaux because she’d forgotten the revolver, Daniel would be so disappointed in her.

Ginger shaped her fingers and thumb to resemble a pistol and pressed them against her small handbag. She held Babineaux’s gaze.

“I believe it is in your best interest to allow me to pass.”

Babineaux’s eyes flickered to her hand, his face registering understanding.

“You Americans think the answer for everything ees a gun.”

“Sometimes it is.”

Ginger’s bluff worked, and Babineaux stepped aside. Ginger kept a wide berth, stayed out of arm’s reach, and rushed down the corridor stairs.