Murder on the Minneapolis (7 page)

E
DDY EMERGED FROM
his bedroom already half way into a conversation. ‘Some of the chaps want to listen to music after dinner,’ he said, his tongue protruding as he fumbled with his tie.

‘There’s a piano in the smoking room and one of the crew has offered to play for us. You don’t mind if I join them, do you, Flora? I promise to be back by 9.30.’

‘What sort of music?’ Flora completed the knot for him. Sometimes, she had to remind herself he wasn’t yet fourteen, but at times behaved as if he were much older.

‘It’s not boring stuff. Tin Pan Alley mostly.’ He stood passive while she tweaked his collar and smoothed his hair.

‘I doubt your parents would object. Your father often hummed the one about the bank if I recall.’

“The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo’?’ he hummed in perfect tune. ‘I like it too.’

‘9.30 at the latest then.’ Flora dismissed him with a gentle push. ‘And remember, it’s Sunday, so decorum is called for. Oh,’ she added in mock seriousness. ‘No smoking, either!’

‘Flora!’ He snorted in mock disgust. ‘In any case, they
chuck us out before the grown-ups come in.’

Flora dressed in a gown of primrose yellow lawn with a fine lace overskirt; a lacy shawl over her exposed shoulders quite inadequate for evening sea breezes, but far too pretty not to wear.

When the meal bugle sounded, she went along to the dining room on the deck below.

Through the filigree gold etchings on the glass in the dining room doors, Flora spotted Bunny seated at the table. Cynthia sat opposite him, one elbow propped on the table, her chin in her hand and staring into his eyes as if he conveyed the meaning of life.

Despite Flora reminding herself Cynthia was a married woman, her confidence dwindled. She was the type of woman Bunny was destined to be with; not a shy girl who hovered in a doorway trying to summon the courage to go in.

A group of diners approached, all talking at the top of their voices; a trait characteristic of the upper classes. Flora stepped behind a pillar as they passed, just as a voice sounded in her ear.

‘Don’t turn around.’

Flora froze, though she was more confused than alarmed. A blast of hot breath enveloped the back of her neck as the voice came again in a sort of breathless croak.

‘Leave well alone, Miss Maguire. People disappear from ships all the time. No one would miss one nosy governess.’

In the brief interval during which Flora plucked up the nerve to turn around, the group had disappeared through the doors in a burst of animated chatter, and the lobby stood empty.

She hadn’t imagined it? Had she?

Another three couples descended the stairs, their voices raised as they swept past Flora, leaving an enticing waft of expensive perfume in their wake.

Flora smoothed her skirt with shaking fingers, then joined the tail end of the group as they entered the dining room. Warmth and light combined with the clatter of plates comforted her as she eased through the crowded room to her table.

Bunny looked up with a smile and Cynthia relinquished her seat without being asked.

‘Are you quite well, Miss Maguire?’ Carl Hersch enquired from the other side of the table. ‘You look somewhat shaky.’

‘Y-yes. I’m fine, thank you.’

Warmth flooded her face and her glance flicked to the empty chairs. Eloise had yet to make an appearance, but not everyone was seated, making it difficult to tell who else was missing.

‘Not still nervous about being in company, are you, Flora?’ Bunny whispered.

‘N-no, I’m quite all right, but outside just now, I—’

‘Ah, here’s our notorious actress,’ Gerald announced, and nudged Bunny, distracting him.

Eloise approached the table, her stride slow and sensuous. She dimpled at a middle-aged ogler and blew a kiss to another, while their female companions glowered like cross twins.

‘I don’t care if my wife does disapprove,’ Gerald murmured. ‘I think our pocket Venus is quite lovely.’

‘Good evening, everyone.’ Eloise’s captivating smile encompassed them all. ‘Do get me a drink, Mr Harrington.’ She blew a kiss at Bunny, and drawled in her sultry accent, ‘I’d like a large gin and tonic as an aperitif.’

Miss Ames exchanged a scandalized look with Monica, who uttered the word, ‘Actresses.’

‘Sorry, Flora, you were about to say something,’ Bunny said, once the waiter had left.

Flora hesitated. The safe, warm atmosphere of the crowded room with its clink of glass and low laughter made the incident in the lobby seem unreal. As if it had happened to someone else.

‘It’s nothing. I’m fine.’

Eloise sipped her drink, flirting in equal measure with Gerald on one side and Max on the other, seemingly unaware of the hostility emanating from their wives.

‘Bank clerks, even secretaries travel to Europe unaccompanied these days,’ Mrs Penry-Jones responded to a remark Flora missed. ‘I always say, if one cannot afford to employ a maid, one should not be permitted to purchase a ticket.’

‘Why shouldn’t single, independent ladies enjoy foreign travel simply because they are without husbands or male relatives to escort them?’ Miss Ames tossed the trailing end of a canary yellow boa carelessly over her shoulder. ‘It seems harsh to deny us the same advantage.’

‘I agree,’ Flora said, recalling Bunny’s advice to stand up to the likes of the old lady.

‘Hmm …’ Mrs Penry-Jones did not trouble herself to answer, but stared at Flora down her long, pointy nose. ‘One cannot be too careful. A woman came out of Lady Radley’s suite this morning and struck up a conversation with me. It wasn’t until tea-time I discovered I’d been prowling the decks with her maid. Everyone saw us talking too.’

‘How distressing, what
did
you do?’ Cynthia asked, her face a picture of false outrage.

‘When she approached just now, I cut her, naturally.’

By the time the entrées arrived, nerves had robbed Flora of her appetite. Despite her determination to forget it, the man’s warning in the lobby kept repeating in her head and wouldn’t go away. Even if he didn’t actually hurt her, what if he turned his attention on Eddy? A thirteen-year-old boy was an easy target.

She considered excusing herself to see that Eddy was all right, then remembered he would be at his musical evening with the other boys. He was safe there for the time being, and besides, what excuse would she give for dragging him away?

Consumed by worry, Flora only caught the tail end of a question Miss Ames had directed at Eloise, just as the mains were placed around the table.

‘… recovered from the death of your travelling companion?’

‘We weren’t friends!’ Eloise waved her fork in the air. ‘Ours was purely a business arrangement.’ Beside her, Gus Crowe shifted sideways in order to avoid a chunk of beef landing in his lap. ‘Someone has since told me I’m talented enough not to need him.’ She aimed a wink at Flora.

‘That’s somewhat callous.’ Miss Ames puckered her thin lips. ‘The poor man’s been dead less than a day.’

’It was an accident,’ Eloise said on a sigh. ‘Tragic maybe, but an accident – nothing more.’

Draining her glass, she held it out for a refill from a passing waiter. When she turned clumsily back to the table, her elbow swung perilously close to a crystal rose bowl, whisked away in time by Gerald. Mrs Penry-Jones tutted loudly, while Hester glared at Eloise with disapproval mixed with disgust.

A waiter approached, a wide tray expertly balanced on
one shoulder from which he distributed dishes of chocolate mousse among the diners at a nearby table.

Without warning, Eloise rose suddenly from her chair, and unbalanced, staggered backwards, her arm flung out behind her in an effort to stay upright.

Flora brought a hand to her mouth, aware of what was about to happen but helpless to prevent it. Dismayed, she could only watch as Eloise’s hand sent a tray of glass dishes flying from the man’s hands.

Chairs were hurriedly scraped back. A man at the next table issued an expulsion of rage, his evening shirt sporting a large smear of whipped cream.

Eloise surveyed the damage dispassionately, offering a garbled but incoherent apology.

A steward led the cream-splattered man away, while a stiff-lipped waiter gathered pieces of broken glass with repeated apologies.

‘I feel quite woozy.’ Eloise raised a hand dramatically to her forehead. ‘Would you be a darling and take me back to my suite, Mr Harrington?’ she asked, ignoring a respectable offer to do exactly that from Gerald.

‘Sit down, Gerald,’ Monica snapped. Reluctantly, he resumed his seat.

‘We’re happy to oblige,’ Bunny rose, hauling Flora to her feet.

‘What?’ Flora gaped. ‘Why me?’

‘I insist,’ Bunny whispered. ‘I have no desire to be trapped in a stateroom alone with an inebriated woman.’

‘I never took you for a coward,’ Flora said mischievously. Then the thought she was about to leave the safety of the crowded dining room brought back the earlier incident. ‘I’ll come, provided you promise to look in on Eddy for me. He said he would be back by 9.30.’

Her request seemed to take Bunny by surprise, who blinked. ‘I’ll pour his cocoa for him if you like.’

‘You don’t have to be sarcastic. He isn’t a baby. I-I simply want to make sure he’s safe.’ Flora trailed after him and an unsteady Eloise, aware of the interested stares turned their way.

She wondered which of her audience had threatened her outside earlier.

By the time Flora had retrieved Eloise’s key from her bag, she clung to Bunny like a rag doll, leaving him with no option but to hoist her into his arms and carry her inside. Lowering her limp figure onto the bed, he barely paused to see if she was likely to fall off again before backing away.

‘There. My chivalrous deed is done for the night.’ He held both hands up in surrender. ‘I’ll order some coffee for her, but I’ll leave the rest to you.’

‘Don’t forget to stop in on Eddy,’ Flora reminded him as he left. He gave an airy backwards wave of one hand without looking back.

Bemused, Flora watched him go before turning her attention to Eloise.

‘Black coffee is what you need, Miss Lane, or you’ll be fit for nothing in the morning.’ She plucked the coverlet from the foot of the bed and spread it over her.

Eloise moaned, but barely stirred, her face in repose and her cloud of messy black curls in stark contrast to the snow white pillow.

The detritus of Eloise’s chaotic life lay strewn over every surface in the one-room stateroom; an oyster silk negligee discarded on a chair, open pots of cosmetics scattered on the dresser. A feather puff in a layer of
flesh-coloured grains, a string of agate beads looped over the corner of the mirror.

The bulkhead that separated the stateroom from Flora’s bedroom bore no trace of whatever had struck it the previous night.

A light knock came at the door and Flora let in the steward, who lowered a tray onto the table in the sitting area where he began arranging the cups.

‘I’ll manage that, thank you.’ Flora ushered him out.

‘Is that coffee I smell?’

Flora turned from closing the door and swung round to where Eloise sat with her arms wrapped round the hump formed by her raised knees, regarding her with eyes as clear as glass.

‘Excellent! Good thinking, Miss Maguire.’ Eloise patted her curls into place with one hand. ‘That should convince everyone.’

‘I-I thought—’ Flora broke off in mute confusion.

‘I know what you thought, which was entirely the impression I wished to give.’ She heaved the bed cover onto the floor, grimacing at her rumpled skirt before advancing on the coffee tray.

‘Why did you want everyone to believe you were drunk?’ Flora demanded, her governess instincts rising to the surface.

‘Because I intend to take a look in Frank’s stateroom.’ Her attempt to smooth out the more obvious creases had no effect, and she gave up with a flap of her hand.

‘Break in, do you mean?’ Flora gaped as she handed her a cup of the hot, fragrant brew from the tray.

‘I quite understand if you want nothing to do with it.’ Eloise’s smile dissolved and she gave a resigned sigh. ‘In which case, feel free to go to bed with your cocoa like a
good little governess.’

Flora bridled. ‘If they find out, won’t you be the first one they’ll suspect? You’re the only one on board who knew him.’

‘Perhaps.’ Her eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘However, I couldn’t possibly have done such a thing. After all, I was so inebriated, that nice Mr Harrington and the governess had to put me to bed.’

‘I wish you’d stop calling me “the governess”.’ Flora took a mouthful of coffee to give herself time to think, but regretted it, the brew was too strong and quite bitter.

‘Ooh, I’m impressed,’ Eloise said. ‘I expected you to go screaming for the captain. I admit, I didn’t bargain on you as my nursemaid, but you’re here now, so do you want to help me or not?’

‘You haven’t yet told me what it is you expect to find.’ Flora’s heartbeat quickened, but she kept her face impassive.

‘Money, my dear girl. And don’t glare at me like that. It’s my money. I gave it to Frank last night. He said he needed it to pay our expenses in London.’

So that was what they had argued about? The dead man’s character slipped markedly in Flora’s estimation in that he had expected her to pay the bills.

‘How much did you give him?’ Flora added more milk to her cup to dilute the coffee.

‘Three thousand dollars.’

Flora almost choked on her next sip.

‘Frank won’t need it now, will he?’ Eloise’s steady gaze challenged Flora to contradict her. ‘I still have to pay my hotel bill when I reach London. So I want it back.’

‘What if we get caught?’ Flora’s head filled with unwelcome images of her being escorted off the ship in London
in chains by two burly policemen, watched by a distraught Eddy and a calm, but resigned Bunny.

Eloise drained her cup and returned it to the tray. ‘You don’t have to help me, but it will be quicker with the two of us. Are you game, or not?’ Without waiting for an answer, she made for the door.

Quietly seething, Flora followed. Which, she decided, was what Eloise counted on. Don’t give your press-ganged accomplice time to reconsider. She would never admit it, especially to Eloise, but the thought of finding something to prove she was right about Parnell’s death to shove beneath Bunny’s nose was tempting.