There was just enough time left to pack up before the SS Rosa was scheduled to dock in Liverpool. Ginger had booked a room at an inn for herself and Haley, and the two of them would take the train into London the next day.

“Do you need any more help?” Haley offered. Her two suitcases had been packed and ready for some time.

Ginger’s trunks and suitcases were filled and her hat boxes stacked. “I think not. The porter should be here shortly for my luggage.”

“Will someone be waiting for us when we arrive at Hartigan House?” Haley asked. “Or are we about to present ourselves to an empty place?”

“You know,” Ginger said, “I’m not sure. Besides Pips, whatever staff there is at Hartigan House will have been hired by Father, or perhaps by Pips himself.”

“Who’s Pips?”

“Clive Pippins is the butler. He’s been on at Hartigan House since I was a child.” Ginger’s mind pulled up pleasant memories of the friendly man. “I always called him Pips, and he called me ‘little miss.’ It’s been two decades since I’ve seen him. I was heartbroken when my father made me say goodbye.”

“A happy reunion, then,” Haley said.

“I’m sure.”

Haley stared out the small window. “I’m going a bit stir-crazy waiting.” She turned and stared at the dog. “Why don’t I take the boss for a walk?”

“Good idea,” Ginger said. She wouldn’t mind a few moments alone.

Once Haley and Boss left, Ginger inhaled deeply and embraced the peace and quiet. She emptied the final item from the drawer of her night table—a black-and-white photo of a handsome Royal Army Service Corps officer in uniform.

“My dearest lieutenant, I’m almost there.”

Ginger lightly kissed the photograph before slipping it into her handbag.

There was a soft tapping on the door, and to Ginger’s surprise, Basil Reed was on the other side of the threshold.

“Chief Inspector,” Ginger said with a smile.

“Please, do call me Basil.”

“Basil. Come in. And you must call me Ginger.”

“Ginger? Is that a nickname?”

“It is. I was named Georgia after my father George, but my mother called me Ginger.” She tapped her bob. “Because of my hair. She said one George in the family was enough.”

Basil smiled. “I like it.”

“I wish I could offer you something to drink, but alas, everything has been packed up.”

“That’s quite all right. I can’t stay long. I just wanted to say, um, well, thank you for your help today. I’m not sure I would’ve solved the case before docking without your assistance.”

“You’re welcome. Besides the slight choking incident at the end, I quite enjoyed myself.”

“Right. That was a particularly unpleasant moment for me as well. I also came to give you this.” He took another step towards Ginger and handed her a folded piece of paper. “The concierge was on his way to deliver it, and I said I’d be happy to run the errand for him.”

“A telegram?”

“Yes. I’ll go now and let you read it in privacy.” He held out a hand. “Perhaps we’ll meet again in London sometime.”

“That would be delightful.”

As soon as the chief inspector closed the door behind him, Ginger opened the telegram.

GHASTLY DISCOVERY IN ATTIC OF HARTIGAN HOUSE STOP AWAIT YOUR ARRIVAL FOR ADVICE STOP PIPPINS

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Don’t miss Murder at Hartigan House!

Read on for an excerpt!

There's a skeleton in the attic!

After a weeklong passage over the Atlantic from Boston to Liverpool, Ginger Gold arrives at her childhood London home—Hartigan House—to find decade-old remains from some poor woman on the floor in the attic. Ginger's Boston terrier, Boss, noses out a missing phalange from under the bed.

It's a mystery that once again puts Ginger alongside the handsome Chief Inspector Basil Reed. Who is the victim? And how did she end up in Ginger's home?

Clues lead Ginger and her good friend Haley Higgins to a soirée hosted in 1913 by Ginger's late father, George Hartigan. A shadow of suspicion is cast on her father's legacy, and Ginger isn't so sure she wants to know the truth about the man she dearly loved.

Ginger decides to host another soirée, inviting the guest list from ten years previous. Before the night is over, another person is dead.

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Sign up for Lee’s READERS’ LIST and gain access to Ginger Gold’s private Journal. Find out about Ginger’s Life before the SS Rosa and how she became the woman she has. This is a fluid document that will cover her romance with her late husband Daniel, her time serving in the British secret service during World War One, and beyond. Includes a recipe for Dark Dutch Chocolate Cake!

It begins: July 31, 1912

How fabulous that I found this Journal today, hidden in the bottom of my wardrobe. Good old Pippins, our English butler in London, gave it to me as a parting gift when Father whisked me away on our American adventure so he could marry Sally. Pips said it was for me to record my new adventures. I’m ashamed I never even penned one word before today. I think I was just too sad.

This old leather-bound journal takes me back to that emotional time. I had shed enough tears to fill the ocean and I remember telling Father dramatically that I was certain to cause flooding to match God’s. At eight years old I was well-trained in my biblical studies, though, in retro-spect, I would say that I had probably bordered on heresy with my little tantrum.

The first week of my “adventure” was spent with a tummy ache and a number of embarrassing sessions that involved a bucket and Father holding back my long hair so I wouldn’t soil it with vomit.

I certainly felt that I was being punished for some reason. Hartigan House—though large and sometimes lonely—was my home and Pips was my good friend. He often helped me to pass the time with games of I Spy and Xs and Os.

“Very good, Little Miss,” he’d say with a twinkle in his blue eyes when I won, which I did often. I suspect now that our good butler wasn’t beyond letting me win even when unmerited.

Father had got it into his silly head that I needed a mother, but I think the truth was he wanted a wife. Sally, a woman half my father’s age, turned out to be a sufficient wife in the end, but I could never claim her as a mother.

Well, Pips, I’m sure you’d be happy to know that things turned out all right here in America.

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