CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Ginger presumed Elise Walsh’s guilt, but she wasn’t sure until the end whether Nancy Guilford had covered for Patty Applebalm or the other way around. When Mrs. Fairchild insisted that Miss Applebalm would do anything for Nancy, Ginger had wondered if that included murder. Turned out it did.

Mrs. Walsh feared the captain’s last will and testament would be void without a body, or at the very least its execution much delayed, and to support her future, she was relying on being the sole benefactor. With the help of the food trolley the captain had ordered for his liaison with Miss Guilford, the two women managed to get the man down to the pantry and into the near-empty pickle barrel, where his body would be preserved. Elise Walsh gave Patty Applebalm one of the fleur de lis cuff links as a sign of the short-lived pact between them. It was just bad luck that Babineaux had stumbled on the corpse so quickly.

Ginger made a trip to steerage to recover Boss from the kennel.

“Dear Scout,” she said as the boy handed her pet over. “Thanks so much for taking care of Boss, and for your discretion in the other matter.”

“’Tis fine, missus. Me and your Boss got along real well. I’ll miss the ol’ feller.”

“I’m sure he’ll miss you, too.” The emotion Ginger felt saying goodbye surprised her. “Are you staying in London? Surely you must attend school somewhere?”

“There’s nuffin’ I need learnin’ that my cousin Marvin can’t teach me.”

Ginger wanted to snatch the eager-faced boy and run. Before she could think it through, she said, “You could come live with me if you like. You’d have a safe home and learn to properly read and write.”

“Aw, missus, I couldn’t. My cousin needs me. And it ain’t my place in this world to be wiv grand folks like yerself. Anyways, I ’ave me ol’ uncle to fink about.”

Ginger sighed. She had no business trying to swoop in and rescue Scout like he was a stray puppy. He had a family, and besides, she wasn’t even planning on staying in London. What was she going to do? Steal him off to Boston?

“I understand perfectly. I do hope we will meet again sometime in the future.”

“Yes, missus. That’d be brilliant.”

Ginger affectionately patted the boy on the head, then tugged on Boss’s leash. She made a point to smile at all the steerage folk on the way out.

Doing something for the last time, even a simple and mundane thing like picking up her dog from steerage, squeezed Ginger’s heart. Walking the open deck of first class, breathing in the saline air, and watching the bow of the Rosa cutting through the cool waters of the Atlantic, all for the final time on this trip. In the distance she could see a sliver of brown on the horizon—land. She took a second to enjoy the beauty. One thing Ginger had learned well was not to take the future for granted and to make the most of each moment, firmly grounded in the present.

“Mrs. Gold!”

Ginger snapped out of her reverie at the sound of Roy Hardy’s voice. “Hello, Mr. Hardy!”

He raced down the deck and was red in the face from exertion and, Ginger presumed, excitement. “It worked! Your plan worked! Miss Chloe smiled and invited me to eat lunch with her, and now we’ve made plans to meet up for drinks in Liverpool!”

Ginger clapped her hands. “I’m so happy for you, Mr. Hardy, and I’m not surprised. You’re a great catch!”

“You’re too kind, madam.”

“Pfft. It’s true. And do visit me in London if you ever find yourself there.” Ginger didn’t know why she extended the invitation. She was sincere in her desire to see the young man and his sweetheart again, but unless they visited in the next month or so, she would have left for America.

He shook her hand with exuberant gratitude, and then hurriedly returned to whatever chore he’d interrupted when he beheld her.

When Ginger rounded the corner towards her room, she recognised Miss Guilford staring mournfully out to sea. Her arms were crossed over a turquoise floral day frock that had a wide white sailor collar that draped over her shoulders. A wide-brimmed hat decorated with a long white-satin ribbon, shaded her eyes from the glare of the sun that lowered in the west.

“Miss Guilford,” Ginger called out. “Are you all right?”

“Right as rain, honey,” she said without a smile. Ginger noted the sarcasm.

“I am very sorry for all that has happened.”

“Patty was just a meddling middle-aged woman who only thought of herself.” Nancy Guilford spoke forcefully, but the lone tear that escaped gave away the affection she felt for her aunt.

But Ginger couldn’t disagree with Nancy’s harsh words. Patty had been blackmailing the captain over his bastard child, which was why he’d borrowed money from Ginger’s father, money Ginger didn’t know if she’d ever see again.

“She was misguided and disturbed, I’ll give you that,” Ginger said. “But I know she means a lot to you.”

“How would you know that?” Nancy scowled. “You don’t know me at all!”

Ginger held the photo of the infant she’d been carrying in her pocket. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Nancy’s fingers trembled as she took it. “Where did you find it?”

Ginger wasn’t about to give her means and methods away, so instead of answering said, “You spoke truthfully about being in the captain’s room the night he died, but you weren’t there as his guest. Rather, your aunt had told you what she’d done. You went there for the murder weapon and then threw it overboard, didn’t you? To protect her. It’s why it hasn’t been found.”

Nancy stared at her with sad and forlorn eyes, but said nothing. Her silence confirmed Ginger’s conviction to the truth. That and the “big ol’ floppy ’at” on Nancy’s head, unlike anything Patty or Elise Walsh had ever worn.