Mystery on Valentine's Day Read online

  Mystery on Valentine’s Day

  A Ginger Gold and Violet Carlyle Mystery short story

  Lee Strauss

  Beth Byers

  Contents

  Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  More from Lee Strauss

  Also by Beth Byers

  About the Authors

  Summary

  The worlds of Ginger Gold and Violet Carlyle collide in this fun Valentine Mystery short story by bestselling authors Lee Strauss and Beth Byers.

  While both Ginger and Violet had plans for a romantic evening of dinner and dancing to celebrate Valentine’s Day with their husbands, something goes terribly awry. One by one, female patrons discover that they are missing jewelery.

  In this closed room mystery filled with a brigade of colorful characters, Violet and Ginger join forces to put their skills of deduction to work. Can they unveil the culprit and solve the mystery in time for dessert?

  Don’t miss this delectable bite-sized tale. Pairs perfectly with a box of chocolate and a comfy chair!

  1

  “I feel like we’re being very typical,” Violet Wakefield said to her husband, Jack, as the door to the River Restaurant in the Savoy Hotel was opened for them. She glanced about the restaurant, noting the gold and black art deco floor and the green-blue chairs next to the dark wooden tables. Violet sighed. Typical or not, she loved this restaurant and loved the chance to sit across the table from Jack, drink champagne or one of her favorite cocktails, and revel in being in love. “Dinner at the Savoy on Valentine’s Day.”

  “That’s us, Vi darling,” Jack agreed. “Typical. Run-of-the-mill. We’re the same old couple, doing the same old thing. Nothing to note here.”

  Violet snorted as they were seated. A part of her was mourning that they were spending Valentine’s Day without her twin and his wife or their best friends Lila and Denny. Both couples were expecting children and had remained in the country. Being in London without them was just lonely and she was especially missing her brother.

  Vi saw Jack nod at a man across the restaurant and frowned. The man, handsome with warm hazel eyes and greying temples, sat across from a lovely redhead. Look at Jack with his friends present while she was lonely for hers! Vi paused from teasing Jack and internally whining for a moment to take note of the lady. Wasn’t that…?

  Vi was staring and needed to turn away or be caught, so she shifted her gaze to the reflection of the lady in a gold-framed mirror behind her. Yes, it was Lady Gold, Violet was sure.

  Violet hadn’t met the lady in person, but she felt certain they’d either be excellent friends or instant enemies. The idea made her smirk and she glanced up at Jack who’d noticed her staring at the mirror. Lady Gold—no, Violet corrected herself, the former Lady Gold. She’d given up her title when she married a detective—the event had made the headlines in all the society rags. That must be her husband sitting across from her.

  “Who’s that?” Violet asked.

  Jack glanced back at the man before ordering champagne from the waiter. “Chief Inspector Basil Reed,” he answered. “The lady you’re examining is his new wife.”

  “Oh, ah,” Violet teased, fiddling with her rose-gold chandelier necklace that Jack had given her that day. It matched the previously gifted rose-gold earrings all of which together highlighted her soft-pink dress accented with gold embroidery, pearl beads, and fringe. “That’s so helpful. Basil Reed, of course. He works at Scotland Yard, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes.” As they were presented with the champagne, Jack nodded his acceptance and eyed Violet. The look on his face told her that he wouldn’t be taken in by her playfulness. “He’s quite an excellent detective with a wife nearly as troublesome as my own, at least according to the superintendent.”

  Violet laughed and declared Basil Reed a lucky man before she let her gaze stray from the chief inspector and his wife to a solid woman with iron-grey hair, a square jaw, and steely-blue eyes. Violet paused to shake her head in mockery. They really were typical. A man and a woman sat together at every table, the flattering candlelight making everyone look glamorous.

  Violet’s gaze landed on a beautiful blonde sitting across from a man in possession of vibrantly curly red hair. They wore black with silver as though they’d determined beforehand to coordinate. Vi burned with curiosity about whether the couple had prearranged their outfits or been surprised when they’d each set eyes on the other.

  The waiters in their dark suits with crisp white napkins draped over one arm seemed to float among them as they delivered cocktails. Violet watched a light-footed fellow deliver two drinks to a table at which was seated an elderly couple with wrinkled hands linked together and aged eyes locked in mutual affection. How delightful!

  While they waited for the shrimp starter to arrive, Violet excused herself to go to the ladies to tidy her hair and touch up her makeup.

  Ginger Reed, known by some as Lady Gold, couldn’t believe she’d never been to the River Restaurant at the Savoy Hotel before.

  “Basil, love,” she said to her husband who was seated across from her on one of the room’s deep-turquoise leather dining room chairs. “It’s perfect.”

  Basil had chosen the establishment to celebrate Valentine’s Day, and as Ginger glanced about the glamorous room, alight with dense crystal chandeliers, she could see many other happy couples had made the same choice. The gentlemen wore navy or brown suits, the quality of which couldn’t be missed, not even in the dimly lit room, and most certainly tailored by a master on Savile Row.

  Ginger felt like a botanist at a rose show taking in the sensual delights of each blossom as she gazed with appreciation at the many exquisite gowns and fine accessories. A night out at the Savoy, whether it was the hotel or the theatre, was an excuse to pull out the gems. Along with a pearl choker necklace, a string of pearls hung long and loose around Ginger’s neck. The pearls were as real as could be, as if she’d fished the oysters out of the ocean herself, and shimmered against her lavender chiffon evening frock. Ginger knew the color worked with her pale complexion and the red hues of her bobbed and marcelled hair. The lace and sequin trim of the outer panel lavender skirt parted to expose a creamy underslip. Ginger, sitting straight, crossed the matching silk pumps, which had fashionable ties around the ankles.

  A waiter, finely dressed in pressed black trousers, a short white jacket, and black bow tie, approached with the menu.

  “Would the lovely couple enjoy a glass of wine with their meal?”

  The lovely couple certainly would!

  Basil ordered a lush French red. As they perused the menu, Ginger caught sight of their neighbors doing the same. Basil’s gaze steadied on a table across the room, and he nodded towards the attractive couple seated there.

  “Do you know them, darling?” Ginger asked.

  “Yes, well, I’m acquainted with the gentleman. He’s Detective Inspector Jack Wakefield. Our paths cross on occasion. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting his wife.”

  “We’ll have to make sure to greet them before we leave,” Ginger said, just as the waiter returned with their bottle of wine and two long-stemmed glasses, and began to pour.

  The menu items sounded delectable and made Ginger’s mouth water. There were many seafood choices but also chicken and lamb were on offer.

  “They all sound so good,” Ginger said with a smile, “I hardly know what to order.”

  “Might I recommend the Cornish crab?”

  Ginger closed her menu and pushed it towards the waiter. “That sounds fabulous.”

  Basil ordered blackened Loch Duart salmon.
r />   The sophisticated older lady at the table next theirs sat across from a much younger man. Ginger raised a brow at the age difference. The lady reminded her of Ambrosia, the Dowager Lady Gold, Ginger’s former grandmother, who resided with herself and Basil at Hartigan House, and had an air of superiority about her, emphasized by the tip of her nose pointing rather upwards. It was only when she overheard the young man speak and call her “Grandmother” that Ginger understood the relationship, and why the younger man’s lips were turned down.

  Basil noticed as Ginger attempted to hold in a smile. “What is it? Your beautiful green eyes are sparkling with mischief.”

  “Not mischief, love,” Ginger said, “but amusement.”

  She leaned forward, holding her wine glass to her face to prevent her words from being overheard.

  “That poor young man is celebrating Valentine’s Day with his grandmother.”

  Basil risked a glance then said, “We should introduce him to Felicia.”

  Ginger chuckled. Felicia was Ginger and Basil’s younger housemate, granddaughter to Ambrosia. The poor dear couldn’t decide on a favorite beau and had ended up with none on this particular day for romance.

  Their meals arrived and Ginger couldn’t wait to dig in. The buttery aroma of the crab steaming before her was delectable.

  Basil raised his glass of wine. “Bon appetit, my love.”

  Ginger returned the gesture, her heart bursting with love and affection for the handsome man staring lovingly back at her. “Bon appetit, mon chéri.”

  Ginger blamed her time spent working as a British secret service agent during the Great War for her inability to ignore minute details of events and persons in her periphery. Though she focused on Basil as he regaled her with the Savoy’s history “—the first public building in Britain completely lit by electric lights—” she couldn’t help but make note of the lady of a certain age and her companion at the table situated behind Basil’s back. She looked formidable with striking make-up, dramatic eyeliner, and sharply arched brows. Ginger quite admired her red gown and Egyptian-themed turban with its glittering diamond-shaped pendant attached front and center.

  Her handsome companion was younger—not to the same degree as the grandson to Ginger’s right—but keenly interested in his date, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “—the electricity that generated the magnificent lighting in this room,” Basil was saying, “indeed the whole hotel, is provided by steam from the hotel’s own artesian wells.”

  “We simply must stay here sometime,” Ginger said. “Now, love, don’t look now, but I’ve only just noticed Lord and Lady Fitzhugh dining. They’re at a table by the bar.” A once frequent customer at Ginger’s fashionable dress shop, Feathers & Flair, Lady Fitzhugh hadn’t returned since the rather unpleasant death that had occurred there during the grand opening gala.

  With one foot firmly placed in the Victorian era, Lady Fitzhugh’s straight posture could only be attributed to what Ginger now considered an archaic corset. The 1920s had come with many new inventions and opportunities, and Ginger was most grateful for the advances made for womankind. She was happy to say farewell to the restrictive dress wear along with the outdated social protocols of the previous generation.

  In comparison, Lord Fitzhugh slouched in his seat, looking rather uncomfortable, and Ginger hated to think it, browbeaten.

  Lady Fitzhugh caught Ginger’s eye, and though the lady acknowledged her with a subtle nod of her tiara-topped head, her scowl never relaxed.

  “I suppose I should go and say hello to them,” Ginger said. “Her dreary outlook on life is rather tiresome, but perhaps I can win back her patronage.”

  The meal was delightful and when Basil suggested dessert, Ginger was quick to agree. It was Valentine’s Day after all, and it wouldn’t do to end it without a bit of chocolate.

  “You rat!”

  Ginger’s head snapped to the angry voice belonging to a pretty blonde lady who dazzled in a black and silver dining gown. In the atmospheric lighting it looked like an Elsa Schiaparelli, but on further inspection, Ginger thought it a close imitation. The lady pushed away from the table. “You said you loved me!”

  Her companion, a roguish-looking young man with hair redder than Ginger’s own, stared back with a look of horror. “But I do love you, darling,”

  “You’ve got lipstick on your collar, and it’s not mine.”

  The bright young thing held on to a rather large handbag and strapped it to her shoulder. If she’d meant to make a scene, she’d certainly succeeded. Her T-strap shoes marched across the black and gold carpet to the point where it met the similarly designed marble tiles.

  Ginger’s gaze returned to the chastised young man, his cheeks flaring as red as his hair.

  “Poor thing,” Ginger said, glancing back at Basil. “I suppose not all that appears to be love, is in fact, love.”

  2

  On the way back to her table, Violet caught the elderly gentleman kissing the back of his wife’s hand. Their skin was spotted with age and crevices that spoke of a shared history. Did they see the younger versions of their spouse when they gazed so lovingly at each other or did it not matter that they’d grown old? She wanted nothing more than long minutes of questioning them about the way their love had changed over the course of their lives, and to receive honest answers.

  The redheaded man sat alone at his table, looking rather like a puppy abandoned by his mother. Where had his date gone? Violet wondered. She hadn’t seen her in the ladies.

  A quick scan of the room, and her eyes found the back of the blonde, stepping rather purposefully to the door of the restaurant. Violet noticed the attention of all the room was on her. Rejoining Jack at their table, she said, “Don’t tell me I’ve missed out on a bit of juicy drama?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Not to be outshone by the sparring lovers, the lady with the square jaw and steely eyes, apparently wanted a turn at the show. Her dark eyes flashed with fury as she accused her companion, “It’s gone!”

  The guests seated around the woman fell silent.

  Violet glanced at Jack, noting his deep frown. She could see his frustration at yet another intrusion to their carefully planned evening of romance, but she had to admit, she was entertained. “What’s happening?”

  “She’s gesturing to her neck. I would guess her necklace is missing?”

  Violet added wickedly, “It could have slipped into her—ah—generous bosom.”

  Jack didn’t answer. His frown deepened and he turned to Violet. “Bloody hell, Vi! Your necklace.”

  Violet glanced down, reflexively placing her hand at her throat, and realized that the gift she’d received as they’d left the house was gone. Dumbly, she lifted her hands to her ears, felt the earrings, and then examined her wrist. At least she hadn’t lost everything.

  The room filled with gasps and cries of distress. A man in a suit rushed from the kitchens, his expression tinged with horror as wealthy customer after wealthy customer stood. Some were digging through their small clutch bags as though the long strands of pearls they’d been wearing had leapt from neck to bag, while others looked under tables and chairs. Waiters were scurrying about, examining the floor as though pearl-bead necklaces and brilliant diamonds could be lost en masse in the black and gold carpeting.

  Violet knew she was spoiled and had jewelry to spare, but her hand returned to her neck time after time until Jack swore. “The thief has to still be here, Vi. You must have just lost your necklace. Did you bump into anyone?”

  Violet frowned, thinking back to her trip to the ladies. She’d slid past a waiter carrying a tray of food and stared for too long at the elderly lovers. She’d leaned into the mirror and reapplied her lipstick, then powdered her nose.

  The elderly lady was just entering as she’d left, but Vi’s thoughts had been of Jack. She hadn’t been paying attention. On second thoughts, the blonde had been present too. Surely, surely, Vi must have had her necklace whe
n she’d applied her lipstick, but she couldn’t say for sure. In fact, all she could say with any surety was that whoever had taken her gift might well be one of the lightest-fingered thieves known to mankind.

  Just as the waiter whisked Ginger and Basil’s dirty plates away, a commotion erupted at the table with the grandmother and grandson.

  “My bracelet!” the lady announced. “My ruby and emerald bracelet is gone! Someone has stolen my jewels!”

  Ginger and Basil shared a look of alarm. Surely the elderly lady only thought she remembered wearing the bracelet. A telephone call or a swift messenger would surely bring reassurance.

  But then, one by one, more distressing pronouncements were made. “My brooch! My earrings! My necklace!”

  It couldn’t be that all these ladies had forgotten what they’d worn out for dinner. Ginger’s hand went to her throat. Her own string of pearls was missing!

  “Basil?”

  Basil’s eyes went to the bare whiteness of her throat. He pushed away from the table. “I’ll secure the room.”

  Ginger watched as Basil sprinted to the door, getting there seconds before the blonde.

  Oh mercy. How dreadful to be forced back into the room without the satisfaction of her dramatic exit.

  Basil escorted the lady to their table. “This is Miss Harris,” he said. “She’s refusing to rejoin her date, a Mr. Rawlings. Do you mind if she sits with you?”

  “Not at all,” Ginger said. “Please, Miss Harris. I’m sure this will be settled quickly and you can be on your way.”

  Basil joined Detective Inspector Wakefield to discuss the situation with the staff, and undoubtedly to report the situation to the Metropolitan Police. Basil worked for CID, the Criminal Investigation Department, and primarily dealt with murder cases.