Murder on the Minneapolis (20 page)

A
S
M
R
H
ERSCH’S
retreating figure turned the corner, a clatter of footsteps accompanied by a baritone shout of, ‘Come back here!’ alerted Flora to a commotion on the boat deck below.

Eddy appeared from beneath the superstructure, running at full pelt, followed a second later by Ozzy. Bunny gave chase, but collided with a strolling couple, halted to apologize, and by the time they moved on, the boys had disappeared. He scanned the deck, then dropped both arms to his sides in resignation and turned back in the direction he had come.

Supressing a weary groan, Flora pushed away from the rail and descended to the deck where the cargo was stored.

Matilda’s canvas had been pulled aside, the ropes holding it secure lay like coiled snakes on the deck.

‘Young rascals,’ Bunny muttered to himself. He had discarded his jacket on the bonnet and was rolling up his shirtsleeves.

‘I take it you mean Eddy and Ozzy?’ Flora said, reaching him.

He pushed a casual hand through his fair hair. ‘I caught them playing inside, so chased them off.’

‘I’m so sorry. I warned Eddy not to go near Matilda unless you were with him.’

‘Not your fault.’ Bunny sighed. ‘I suspect Ozzy was the ringleader in this case, and boys, as they say, will be boys.’

She cast a critical eye over the gleaming yellow paintwork, but nothing stood out as a source of Bunny’s annoyance, apart from the disarranged cover. ‘Have they done any damage?’

‘A few footprints on the seats and sticky marks on the steering wheel.’ He bent to peer inside. ‘I cleaned all this earlier. Now I shall have to do it again.’

A movement from the corner of Flora’s eye drew her gaze to where the boys hovered twenty feet away. When they saw her watching, they ducked behind a lifeboat.

‘I can see you there!’ Flora called in her best governess tone. ‘Now come out and apologize to Mr Harrington.’

‘We didn’t mean any harm.’ Eddy shuffled forward, followed by a blushing Ozzy. ‘The ropes were undone when we got here.’

‘It wasn’t us, Miss Maguire,’ Ozzy insisted, displaying the indignation of a child unaccustomed to being chastised.

‘Even so, you shouldn’t have—’

‘What do you mean?’ Bunny cut across her. ‘I checked the canvas before luncheon, everything was secure then.’

‘The door was open too.’ Eddy’s courage returned and he crept closer.

‘You’re sure about that?’ Bunny asked him, frowning. ‘The canvas was rolled back like this when you got here?’

‘Yes, sir!’ both boys chorused.

Flora didn’t know Ozzy well enough to judge his character accurately. Eddy, on the other hand was more easily read, and she was sure he was being truthful.

‘Well, if you didn’t unwrap it, who did?’ Bunny murmured, mostly to himself.

‘Ah, got the old motor out, I see.’ Gerald strolled briskly towards them, resplendent in a white blazer, his straw hat tipped back on his head. Oblivious of Bunny’s concerned frown, and the boys’ subdued faces, he circled the contraption with an appraising eye, peering through the window. ‘I think I’ll buy myself one of these when I get home. You don’t see many in Reigate.’

‘Oh, Papa, that would be super!’ Ozzy threw Eddy a triumphant look.

‘Actually I didn’t,’ Bunny said, resigned. ‘Though it appears someone did.’

Gerald eyed his son knowingly. ‘Have you been messing about where you weren’t supposed to, son?’ His voice took on a mock sternness but his eyes glinted with the amused pride at his son’s mischievous initiative.

‘I don’t suppose you saw anyone loitering about here earlier, Gerald?’ Bunny asked.

‘I’ve been with Monica in our suite.’ Gerald shook his head. ‘I’ve not been near.’

‘Does it really matter?’ Flora asked. ‘There’s no harm done. I’m sure the boys won’t do it again.’

‘We didn’t do anything!’ Eddy protested.

‘You know what I mean.’ Flora silenced him with a glare.

‘I’m probably being over-protective.’ Bunny adjusted his glasses. ‘These machines are rare and jolly expensive. My competitors may try to beat me to the English market by sabotaging this model and ruining my future plans.’

‘Oh,’ Flora said, dismayed. ‘I didn’t think of that.’ First murderers on board, now saboteurs. How had she imagined this voyage would be uneventful?

Bunny grunted something unintelligible, muffled by the fact he was now bent double with his top half tucked inside the vehicle. He backed out and straightened. ‘I had better get her wrapped up again.’

‘Now, you two.’ Gerald winked at Bunny before addressing the boys. ‘Let’s go and study the form before the horse racing. Might even win a couple of bob, eh?’ With a final backwards wave, he guided the two miscreants away.

Gerald paused further along the deck to engage in a play fight with the boys that elicited frowns from some passengers and indulgent smiles from others. He feigned surrender when Eddy sprang at him, then launched a half-hearted attack with one arm. Ozzy pitched in, brandishing a short wooden stick.

Flora watched them, wistful. Eddy had missed out on such horseplay with his own father. Lord Vaughn was a kindly man, but conscious of his importance. His affection for Eddy took the form of lectures about duty and keeping to society’s rules. She couldn’t imagine him taking time to play soldiers with his only son.

‘Thinking again, Flora?’ Bunny studied her as he wiped his grubby hands on a cloth.

‘Yes, but it’s not important.’ She chewed her bottom lip. ‘Speaking of storms. Have you given any thought as to why Max was on deck yesterday?’

‘It happened too fast for me to think anything. I simply went to grab him before he was sucked under the rail.’

‘Then think about it now. A gale is blowing, waves are breaking over the deck strong enough to knock someone off their feet. The luncheon bugle went five minutes before, but instead of using the interior corridors to get to the dining room, Max is outside, working his way
between lifeboats and winch lines in the other direction. Where was he going?’

‘Give me a clue.’

‘No seriously, Bunny,’ she snapped. ‘What is of interest on deck other than this?’ She nodded at the motor car.

‘Matilda?’ He shrugged. ‘It’s possible. But then she’s been here under canvas all week. You cannot be sure that’s where he was headed.’

‘No. Which is why I intend to ask him.’

‘How nice of you to come,’ Cynthia greeted Flora at door to the Cavendishes’ suite. ‘Max is still a bit groggy from the sedative the doctor gave him, but he’s more comfortable today.’ Her overly cheerful voice continued into their bedroom where Max sat propped against a pile of pillows, garbed in a gaudy bed jacket over striped pyjamas. A wide bandage circled his head, and his left arm was tightly wrapped in a sling. Though his youthful pink plumpness had not yet returned, the deathly pallor which had driven Cynthia into hysterics had disappeared.

‘I’m so glad you weren’t badly hurt, Max.’ Flora took the chair tucked into the narrow space at the side of the bed.

‘Thanks to Harrington.’ Max attempted a laugh that was cut off by a wince. ‘Shoulder’s deuced sore, but I’m on the mend.’ He reached for a glass of water at his elbow, but before his hand connected with the glass, Cynthia leapt forwards and held it to his mouth.

‘C’mon, old girl, I’m not an invalid.’ He pushed her hand away with a grimace.

‘I keep thinking that you could have been killed!’ Cynthia blurted on a sob.

‘Well I wasn’t, so stop fussing.’ He softened his sharp
retort with a brief caress of her cheek.

‘It’s all so awful. I wish this business was over.’ She grasped his hand and held it to her face with both of hers.

‘What business?’ Flora searched her gaze, but Cynthia’s eyes showed only anguish.

‘I meant this voyage,’ she said quickly. ‘The honeymoon, everything which sets us apart as a focus of common gossip. I want to get back to being simply Mrs Maximilian Cavendish.’ She turned a limpid-eyed look on her husband so intense, Flora coughed and looked away, embarrassed.

‘It must have been terrifying for you,’ Flora said. ‘Whatever made you go out in that storm must have been important.’

‘Yes, Max.’ A tiny crease appeared between Cynthia’s perfectly plucked brows. ‘You never did tell me what you were doing out there in a gale.’

Max split a look between them, and eased upright against his pillows. ‘Actually, Cyn. I would really love some tea. I’m sure Flora would too. Would you oblige, darling?’

Flora was about to refuse, but his imploring look changed her mind. ‘Er – yes, that would be very nice, thank you.’

‘Of course, I’ll summon a steward.’ Cynthia nodded, rising.

‘Oh, actually Cyn.’ Max halted her at the door. ‘Gerald borrowed my copy of
The Invisible Man
. He’s an H.G. Wells enthusiast, apparently. Would you slip along to fetch it for me? I could do with something to read.’

Flora waited for the door to close before she asked, ‘You didn’t answer her question about what you were doing on deck.’

‘It was an accident,’ he replied, but refused to meet her gaze. ‘I went for a stroll and misjudged the severity of the wind.’

‘The crew had issued a storm warning, Max, and ordered us all inside. Why did you take such a risk?’

‘This voyage has been difficult for everyone, what with two deaths.’ He gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘But you shouldn’t read something into a simple accident.’

‘Shouldn’t I?’ Flora waited. Didn’t Max know how open his face was? His eyes were full of angst, displaying his every emotion. Even Eddy was more expert at dissembling than this man.

‘Look, Flora.’ Max swallowed, fiddling with his sling with his uninjured hand. ‘You shouldn’t involve yourself in this.’

‘I am involved, Max. I found Eloise’s body.’ The words were out before she could stop them.

‘I-I had no idea.’ His skin blanched as he finally met her gaze. ‘I was told a maid found her.’

‘That’s what Mr Hersch wants everyone to think.’ Flora fidgeted, regretting her impulse now. For all she knew Max could be guilty. Then her gaze strayed to the sling and she changed her mind. ‘I’ve already been threatened to keep my mouth shut, but things have gone too far.’ Her stomach tightened as she spoke of something she thought she had suppressed until now.

‘Threatened?’ His eyes clouded with concern. ‘By whom?’

‘That’s just it, I don’t know. Look, I hadn’t known Eloise long, but I was fond of her. I’m determined to find out who killed her.’

‘I have no idea who killed her.’ He slapped the coverlet. ‘In fact I wish I didn’t know anything at all.’

‘What
do
you know? If it’s something which would help the investigation, you must tell Mr Hersch.’

‘Huh! Hersch. He’s still trying to run things, is he? I would have thought he would have given up by now with his target dead.’

‘Which target? Parnell or Eloise?’

Max didn’t answer, so aware that Cynthia would be back any moment and she had little time, Flora took a gamble. ‘Who was Marlon van Elder?’

‘Where did you hear that name?’ His eyes narrowed and he gripped the coverlet with his free hand, creasing the silk.

This time it was Flora’s turn not to answer. ‘Did you kill him?’

‘What?’ His anger turned to derision. ‘Of course not. The idiot died falling down those steps. Probably drunk, knowing him.’

‘So you did know him?’

‘I didn’t say that. I knew of him.’

‘I’m getting tired of your short answers, Max. What aren’t you telling me?’ She suspected a lot, but how to make him reveal it before Cynthia came back? ‘Did he kill Theo van Elder, Eloise’s husband?’

‘Elo – you mean Estelle,’ he said slowly. A flash of anger entered his eyes, turning them from harmless blue to sinister grey. ‘Be careful, Miss Maguire. Your meddling might cause more harm than you imagine.’

The click of the door made Flora jump, while Max sighed as if relieved.

‘Here you are, darling.’ Cynthia’s round vowels cut through the oppressive atmosphere, a tray held aloft. ‘I ran into Monica outside. She retrieved your book for me.’

Cynthia poured tea, set one at Flora’s elbow before
tipping three sugar lumps into Max’s cup she propped into his free hand. ‘Now drink it while it’s hot.’

Flora sipped the hot brew while trying to work out how to get Max talking again.

Cynthia perched on the edge of the bed, hands clasped demurely in her lap. ‘Now, what have you two been talking about?’

Flora hid her frustration beneath a wide smile. ‘I was just saying to Max how the passengers are all nervous about the fact there’s a killer on board.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Cynthia shuddered theatrically but her gaze sharpened. ‘Has that detective found out anything?’

‘If he has, he isn’t sharing it with me. It’s only a matter of time though, don’t you think with two murders?’ Flora studied their faces, certain the answers lay in this room.

‘Mr Hersch thinks Mr er – Parnell was murdered too?’ Cynthia’s smile turned stale round the edges.

‘He’s convinced they are connected, and not necessarily committed by the same person.’ Flora blurted, not sure where the thought came from.

Max’s hand jerked and hot tea splashed onto his bare arm below his sling. He gave a sharp cry which brought Cynthia to her feet, dabbing at the wet stain with a napkin, and murmuring in distress.

‘It’s all right, Cyn.’ Max waved her away. ‘You got most of it.’ He massaged his forehead with his free hand. ‘I’m sorry to be so unsociable, Flora, but I get tired easily, what with the pain. I could do with some sleep.’

Left with no choice but to leave, Flora rose. ‘I hope you’ll feel better soon, Max.’

‘Of course, darling.’ Cynthia fussed. ‘Let me get rid of this, then I’ll see you out, Flora.’ She re-loaded the tray and manhandled it into the sitting room.

Max thrust out his hand and grabbed Flora’s, bringing her attention back to his face. His eyes were open, clear and intense.

‘Take my advice, Flora. Don’t get pulled into this. Nothing good will come of it.’

‘Pulled into what?’ Flora whispered urgently, aware she had very little time before Cynthia returned. ‘What did you do?’