Murder on the Minneapolis (3 page)

If indeed that’s what killed him.

B
Y THE TIME
Flora arrived back at her suite, she was overcome by a belated wave of nausea.

The wound on the man’s head had stirred a recurring memory from her past that was unnervingly similar. An image that ambushed her at odd times, leaving her with more questions than she could answer.

Fighting dizziness, she inserted herself between Bunny and the door. ‘Thank you for escorting me back, Mr Harrington, I shall be perfectly all right now.’

‘Most probably.’ Bunny pushed the door open and indicated she should enter ahead of him. ‘However, you look decidedly shaky if I may say so. I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I abandoned you now.’

Discouraging him was too much of an effort. Instead, Flora sank into the nearest wicker chair, leaving him to close the door.

‘It must have been a dreadful shock finding a body like that,’ Bunny said.

‘Not at first, but when I saw that gash on his head, I….’ She motioned him into the chair opposite. ‘I imagine it must have been worse for you.’ She thrust her hands in the folds of her skirt to still their shaking. ‘You knew him.’

‘Not really.’ He tugged up his trousers and sat, dwarfing the chair. ‘After dinner, those at our table repaired to the saloon for drinks. I only remember him because he instigated a game of poker.’

A light knock came at the door, and Flora half-rose, glad of a reason to break eye contact. The intensity of his stare made her uncomfortable. ‘That will be my morning tea.’

‘I’ll go.’ Bunny halted her with an upraised hand, leaving her with little choice but to relax back into her seat.

She squeezed her eyes shut to banish the image of the man on deck, which mingled with that of a woman from another time, though the first disturbed her far worse than the second. That the lady was her mother was deeply ingrained, though the circumstances remained indistinct. ‘Steward thought he had come to the wrong suite.’ Bunny’s cheerful voice cut short the memory. ‘But I soon put him straight. Shall I pour?’ He hovered above the loaded tray he had placed on the table between them, from which the comforting smell of tea wafted into the room, reminding her of the Cleeve Abbey nursery in the afternoons.

‘The steward told me word has already begun circulating about that poor chap.’ Bunny’s evident unfamiliarity with china caused him to misjudge the arc of hot water and he slopped some into a saucer. ‘What were you saying about the blood?’ he asked, dabbing at the wet tray clumsily with a napkin.

Flora attempted a smile. ‘There was none. Not on the companionway, the deck or the handrail. Do you believe it was an accident?’

He adjusted his glasses, as if taking time to think. ‘I didn’t have time to form much of an opinion, what with those sailors in such a hurry to take him away.’ He handed her a full cup, a finger pointed to the sugar bowl.

Flora declined. ‘I thought it was odd, that’s all.’

He stirred his tea slowly. ‘The doctor didn’t agree though, did he?’

‘He didn’t consider anything I had to say. But then I suppose the last thing the crew would want on the first day at sea is a murder. That would certainly upset the passengers.’

‘Murder?’ His eyes glinted with surprise, magnified by his spectacles. ‘Why would you think that?’

Flora’s confidence waned. ‘I-I don’t know. Maybe Dr Fletcher was right, and he did fall.’ She met his gaze over the top of her teacup. ‘Incidentally, what were you doing up so early?’

‘I was on my way to check on Matilda.’ His mouth tilted up slightly at one side. ‘Why? Did you think I was out pushing card sharps down steps?’

‘No, of course not,’ she said, mildly exasperated. ‘Unless you lost money to him.’

His brows lifted. ‘I work too hard to risk my money on games of chance.’

Flora smiled at this, pleased with the fact he was a man of high moral principle. ‘What was the late Mr Parnell like?’

Bunny thought for a moment. ‘Early thirties, dark, heavy-featured with thick black hair.’

Flora had gathered that much for herself. ‘I meant his personality. Aggressive, self-effacing, unassuming?’

‘Well, not the last two. He spoke with a Brooklyn accent, but claimed to know London. That didn’t seem likely to me, though I have no reason to disbelieve him.’

‘Hmm, what about this lady you told the officer he was with?’ The hot tea helped her relax and she began to enjoy the exchange.

‘Ah yes, the actress. A petite, dark-haired girl with pretty blue eyes. Clearly more intelligent than him, so I was surprised they were together.’

This description sounded nothing like the lady Flora had seen talking to Parnell.

‘Was it a high stakes game?’ She poured herself more tea and held the pot up in enquiry.

He nodded, his cup held out for a refill. ‘Depends what you mean by high. Man named Gilmore lost $1,000.’

‘A thousand?’ The handle of the teapot slipped from Flora’s fingers, though she managed to catch it before it hit the table.

‘He didn’t seem particularly upset by it. Quite well-heeled, I imagine.’

‘That could be ocean liner talk.’ In response to his sideways look she continued, ‘My employers warned me that when separated from our ordinary lives, one’s history can often be embellished.’

‘Not Gilmore. His wife’s diamonds were real.’

‘Isn’t it bad taste to wear one’s jewels at sea?’ Flora recalled Lady Vaughn’s discourse that sea air spoiled the stones’ lustre.

‘Maybe so,’ Bunny said, laughing.

‘Had you met them before this trip?’

‘I don’t know anyone on this voyage. Except you, of course.’ His smile caused her stomach to perform a strange, lurching flip. She dipped her nose to her teacup to hide the sudden heat that flooded her face.

‘I say, I hope you don’t mind my hanging about, treating you like an old friend? He eased forwards, resting his forearms on his thighs. ‘Actually, I wondered about how you left me so abruptly last night. I imagined we were getting along famously. Did I say something to offend you?’

‘No, not at all.’ She dropped her gaze to her lap. ‘It’s just that, well, Eddy—’

‘Ah, yes, I see. Eddy.’ He nodded slowly. ‘I understand. You’re his governess, aren’t you?’

‘Yes. The
Minneapolis
was the first ship with accommodation available when my employer booked passage.’ Flora did not add that she had felt more comfortable in her third class cabin on the
Oceanic
during the outward voyage.

‘I don’t see why that would send you rushing away like you did. I have very happy memories of my governess.’ He produced a handkerchief from somewhere, removed his spectacles and proceeded to polish the lenses.

Flora bit back a retort and focused on the tiny red mark the metal bridge had caused on his nose and had to resist the urge to stroke it away. Then she imagined what Lady Vaughn would say about entertaining young men in her suite, reigniting the slow burn in her cheeks.

‘Tell me about the other passengers.’ She offered him the plate of biscuits, hoping he hadn’t noticed her discomfort.

‘If you hadn’t avoided the dining room last night.’ He took one, pointing it at her. ‘You would have met them yourself.’

‘Well, I didn’t, so I must rely on you to paint me a picture.’

‘Let’s see.’ He took a bite of the biscuit and chewed. ‘The Gilmores are an English couple with a son about Eddy’s age. Nice lad, if young for his age. He got on well with your young charge at dinner, actually.’

‘I know.’ A surge of guilt welled at her having abandoned Eddy to a room full of strangers.

‘The Cavendishes are our on-board honeymoon couple. Standard requirement on sea voyages, so they get lots of attention.’

Flora dipped her head to her cup while she summoned images of these people in her head. ‘Tell me about them.’

‘You sound as if you’re trying to root out possible suspects.’

‘Isn’t that what the sleuths do in the best crime novels; discover all they can about those involved?’

‘Are you an Arthur Conan Doyle fan, by any chance?’

‘Isn’t everyone? However, during my stay in New York, I read
Marked Personal
by Anna Katharine Green. Her father was a lawyer, I believe, so she gets the legal aspects spot on, and—’ she broke off, embarrassed. ‘Sorry, you were about to describe the honeymooners.’

‘So I was. Max Cavendish is in his early thirties I would say, affluent English businessman.’ He stared off for a second. ‘Puts me in mind of a bulldog puppy, no grace, but plenty of enthusiasm.’

‘Very descriptive, which means I shall be hard put not to smile when we meet, and thus will completely baffle him.’ She dragged her gaze back to her cup. ‘What’s his bride like?’

‘Cynthia? She’s a stunner. Slim with reddish hair and startling cerulean eyes. Extremely wealthy, if her wardrobe is anything to go by, with an aloof, disdainful air about her. In fact,’ he waved his teaspoon in the air, ‘all the chaps I went to school with had sisters just like her.’

Flora nodded slowly. He had described the lady she had seen talking to the dead man.

The rattle of the doorknob announced the arrival of Eddy, who stumbled into the room, still fumbling with the cord of his blue and red chequered dressing gown.

‘Why is everyone up so early?’ he demanded in a voice heavy with sleep. ‘There are people running along the deck past my window. Is the ship on fire? Oh, hello, Mr
Harrington. What are you doing here?’ He perched on the edge of the third armchair and peered at the tea tray, frowning.

‘I’m afraid Mr Harrington used your cup,’ Flora said. ‘You’ll have to wait until breakfast.’

‘I don’t mind.’ Eddy shrugged, pragmatic as ever.

‘One of the gentlemen at your table last night has met with an accident,’ Flora said. ‘A Mr Parnell.’

‘The one with the eyebrows that meet in the middle?’ Eddy plucked a biscuit from the tray and nibbled at it, one knee looped over the arm of his chair. ‘What sort of accident?’

‘He suffered a fall on the companionway steps,’ she replied carefully.

‘Will he die?’ Eddy whispered round a mouthful of crumbs, his eyes round.

‘Already dead,’ Bunny replied, ignoring Flora’s frantic hand signal.

‘Spiffing!’ Eddy dropped his unfinished biscuit on the tray and headed for his room. ‘Must get dressed and find Ozzy. He’ll want to hear about this.’

‘You can tell him Flora found the body,’ Bunny called after him.

‘Excellent!’ Eddy’s delighted yell came from behind his closed door.

‘Why on earth did you say that?’ Flora said, aghast.

‘Don’t look so disapproving.’ Bunny smiled. ‘Shipboard gossip will have filled in the details anyway.’ Not at all abashed, he swept another biscuit from the plate. ‘Besides, it will give Eddy some kudos amongst the other boys. These things matter, you know.’

‘Hmm.’ Flora narrowed her eyes. ‘Slightly morbid if you ask me.’

Dismissing the strange proclivities of young boys, and older ones, Flora checked the time. The breakfast bugle would go soon. The thought of a roomful of strangers speculating on what part she had played in the death of a passenger did not appeal. She would be the talk of the ship by luncheon.

Flora toyed with the thought of skipping breakfast altogether, and was about to float the idea with Bunny when Eddy reappeared, having apparently thrown on whatever came to hand.

‘Did you really find the body, Flora?’ At her nod he went on. ‘Was there much blood?’

‘Not enough,’ Flora said under her breath, then more loudly, ‘never mind that. I rather think a yellow sweater with red socks is a little—’

‘No time.’ Without glancing at either of them, he left, banging the door behind him

Almost immediately, the doorbell rang, and sighing, Flora rose and flung it open. ‘What have you forgotten, Eddy?’ The words froze on her tongue at the sight of the two uniformed men who filled the doorframe.

‘Miss Flora Maguire?’ asked an older man, the four gold rings on his sleeves announcing him as the captain.

Her mouth dried but she gathered herself enough to nod.

‘Captain Gates, how do you do.’ Of medium height and a stocky build without being fat, his eyes glinted with amusement in a face that Flora expected to break into a laugh at any second. An aroma of old tobacco hung about him, echoed by the polished walnut pipe poking out of his breast pocket. ‘Would you mind answering a few questions about this morning’s ah, unfortunate mishap?’

‘No, of course not.’ She stepped aside to allow them
to enter, her attention caught by the sight of a crewman in front of a cabin two doors down. A diminutive maid stood, feet planted apart in front of him, a pile of white towels hugged to her chest.

‘You had no cause to throw me out,’ she said. ‘I have to clean, or I’ll lose my job.’

‘I can’t help that,’ the crewman snapped, unmoved. ‘Mr Parnell’s cabin must not be touched. Captain’s orders.’

‘Then just you be sure to tell the housekeeper those things are missing, and it wasn’t me who took ’em.’ With a final sniff at the unbending sailor, she stomped off along the deck.

The crewman mouthed something at the girl’s back before locking the door of the cabin, then pocketed the key before striding off in the other direction.

Flora closed the door slowly. So Mr Parnell had occupied the cabin on the other side of Miss Lane’s. Not that it mattered now. He wouldn’t be using it.

‘Is there something wrong?’ Bunny asked, while the two sailors regarded her with identical looks of puzzled enquiry.

‘No, no not at all,’ Flora resumed her seat.

The two crewmen tucked their caps neatly beneath their arms as Flora directed them to the remaining chairs.

‘Should I leave you alone?’ Bunny inclined his head towards the door, though his expression indicated he would do so reluctantly.

‘Actually, Mr Harrington.’ Officer Martin produced a notebook from his pocket. ‘We hoped you would remain.’

Bunny took up a position beside Flora’s chair, a gesture she found both protective and reassuring.

‘What was the first thing you saw this morning, Miss
Maguire?’ Officer Martin’s pen hovered above a page.

Flora frowned. ‘You know what I saw. You were there too.’