Murder on the Minneapolis (8 page)

Then her father’s stern ‘I’m disappointed in you’ look floated into her head but she pushed it away on the short walk across the deserted deck to Parnell’s stateroom.

‘Warn me if anyone comes,’ Eloise instructed, inserting what looked like a double hatpin bent at right angles into the lock.

‘Have you done this before?’ Flora whispered. At Eloise’s slow sideways look she added, ‘Never mind, it’s best I don’t know.’

Flora scanned the deck on both sides, but the boards gleamed empty in the moonlight. The passengers must still be at dinner, or had de-camped to the saloon, neither of which was reassuring. She began to wish she hadn’t come. What possible explanation could she give if discovered outside a dead man’s cabin? Or worse, inside it?

Seconds stretched, then Eloise straightened, throwing her a brief, dazzling smile. ‘We’re in!’ Grabbing Flora by the elbow, she yanked her inside, closed the door and twisted the latch. ‘Let down the blinds!’

When the second one fell to the ledge with a dull thump, Eloise flicked the light switch, flooding the room
with a sulphurous yellow glow.

A mirror image of Eloise’s, Parnell’s stateroom was bereft of any signs of human habitation, which, Flora reminded herself, was hardly a surprise.

‘You try the bureau,’ Eloise ordered as she advanced on the wardrobe, dropped into a crouch and slid open the drawers at the bottom.

Flora felt a stirring of excitement as the top drawer slid open on silent runners, but lay empty except for a few sheets of blank notepaper which bore the Atlantic Transport Line logo. What did $3,000 look like anyway?

‘Anything?’ Eloise whispered from her kneeling position in front of the wardrobe, replacing an obviously empty valise.

‘Not yet.’ Flora rifled through immaculate folded white shirts, and a pile of card collars rolled together with some silk ties.

Eloise dislodged a row of shoes in the bottom of the wardrobe that fell in a series of soft thumps onto the floor. One bounced and came to rest beside Flora. She handed it back, noting the upper was highly polished but the sole looked thin and worn. A pile of crisp laundered shirts sat in the drawer, a pristine overcoat on a padded hanger above her head. The contrast appeared incongruous, as if the late Mr Parnell was all front and no substance.

‘I’ll take a look in the bathroom,’ Eloise said. ‘You stay here.’

Flora gave a silent nod, then looked down as a pasteboard folder dropped to the floor, open to reveal a sepia-coloured photograph. A darkly handsome man stood beside a delicate, pretty blonde who wore a wide smile of uninhibited happiness. Apart from her hair colour and lack of make-up, she resembled Eloise. A relative, maybe?

Retrieving the photograph, a folded sheet of newsprint slid onto the floor.

A loud rattle of the doorknob froze Flora in place. Panicked, she thrust the photograph into the bottom of the drawer and dumped the pile of shirts on top.

Eloise’s head appeared around the bathroom door, one finger pressed to her lips.

Flora slid the drawer closed, then spotted the square of paper on the floor. Scooping it up, she shoved it into her pocket, every nerve on edge.

‘Darling,’ a high-pitched female voice came from outside. ‘That’s not our cabin. We’re three doors farther down.’

A muttered curse followed the release of the doorknob. A brace of footsteps moved away, accompanied by soft feminine laughter.

Eloise tiptoed to the door, pulled back the side of the blind with two fingers and peered onto the deck. Turning to Flora she mouthed, ‘They’ve gone.’

Flora released a held breath, a hand pressed to her chest beneath which her heart thumped uncomfortably.

‘We’d better go,’ Eloise whispered. ‘Did you find anything?’

Flora shook her head. ‘There’s no money here, not even small change.’

‘Damn!’ Eloise flicked off the light. ‘What a waste of time.’ Easing open the door, she checked both ways before beckoning Flora to follow.

Back in Eloise’s cabin, they collapsed onto the rumpled bed, in fits of giggles like hysterical schoolgirls.

‘I’ve never done anything like that before.’ Flora hugged a pillow to her chest.

‘What a dreary life you lead.’ Eloise wiggled backwards onto the mattress.

‘Possibly,’ Flora bridled. ‘However, yours will be somewhat less dramatic with your money out of reach. Where does that leave you now?’

‘I’m not broke exactly, but honestly, I could kill Frank, I—’ She broke off and flushed prettily. ‘I mean, if he hadn’t fallen down that companionway.’ She wrapped her arms around her bent legs, her chin resting on top of her knees. ‘Don’t mention I said this to anyone, will you, Flora, but something doesn’t seem right about Frank’s accident.’

Flora stiffened. ‘What doesn’t seem right?’

‘I don’t know.’ Eloise chewed her bottom lip. ‘Falling down staircases wasn’t Frank’s style. Pushing people down them, now that’s more like him.’ She stretched her arms luxuriously, yawning. ‘Anyway, thanks for your help, Flora. I’m sorry we didn’t find anything.’

‘Which must strike you as odd.’

Eloise blinked. ‘Odd, in what way?’

‘Bun–Mr Harrington told me Mr Parnell won a considerable amount of money at cards last night.’

‘He did?’ A frown appeared between her perfectly plucked eyebrows. ‘What do you call a considerable amount?’

‘Over $2,000, maybe more.’

‘No!’ Eloise’s head jerked up. ‘The sneaky bas—’ Words appeared to fail her, and sighing, she dropped her chin back onto her knees.

‘The reason I mention it,’ Flora went on, ‘is because that money wasn’t in his stateroom, either. If he died soon after the card game, he didn’t have a chance to lodge it in the ship’s safe. The purser’s office was closed.’

Eloise gave a dismissive ‘tsk’ through her lips. ‘Frank didn’t trust banks.’ Her head jerked up again, pinning
Flora with a hard stare. ‘You think he was killed for the money?’

‘I couldn’t say, but it’s beginning to make sense.’

Eloise shook her head. ‘I can’t imagine anyone on board taking such a risk. It’s small change to most of them.’

‘Not necessarily. An ocean liner is a great leveller. Once on board we can be whomever we wish.’ Flora recalled the state of Parnell’s shoes. ‘After all, did you know I was a governess when we first met?’

‘I didn’t, no. Not until Mrs Penry-Jones said – well never mind what she said. Besides, she didn’t speak directly to me, more in my presence. Women like her don’t talk to actresses. I counted myself lucky she asked me to pass the mustard at dinner.’

‘Exactly what I meant. Anyone can buy a first class ticket, everything else can be invented to suit their purpose.’ Her thoughts went back to Parnell’s worn shoes and undergarments.

Eloise slid off the bed, her arms crossed at her waist. ‘Look, Miss Governess, I don’t know what you’re implying, but I haven’t invented anything or killed—’

‘I wish you’d stop being so defensive,’ Flora cut across her. ‘I wasn’t referring to you.’ Unless her judgement was faulty, Eloise wasn’t a killer. ‘You said you aren’t happy with the manner of Mr Parnell’s death, well nor am I. I believe someone killed him.’

‘Killed?’ Panic entered Eloise’s eyes. ‘I don’t know anything about that. I want to get back what is rightfully mine, nothing else. If you spread talk like that, before you know it, I’ll be the one accused.’

‘But surely—’

‘No, I mean it.’ She dragged Flora to her feet by one arm in a surprisingly firm grip for someone with such a
slight frame. ‘Thank you for helping me tonight, but I’m not being accused of murder.’ She propelled Flora out onto the deck where a cool wind tugged at her skirt.

Before the door closed, she heard Eloise whisper, ‘Not again.’

A
FTER A SURPRISINGLY
restful night, Flora was up and dressed, pouring hot tea from the pot brought by the stewardess, when Eddy stumbled into the sitting room.

‘You look tired, didn’t you sleep well?’ Flora picked up the trailing cord of his dressing gown and handed it to him.

‘I had a strange dream, about Meely.’ His voice softened. ‘I was six again, and she took the ladder away from my tree house when I was still inside.’ He rubbed his eyes with both hands. ‘I dreamed she left me there for days, not just until suppertime.’

‘How ungenerous of her.’ Flora recalled the incident well. ‘I take it you forgave her?’ Flora knew all about strange dreams, but this one didn’t sound too disturbing. ‘Have you and Ozzy any plans for the day?’

‘Not really.’ Eddy flopped into a chair. ‘We’ve played all the deck games and seen as much of the ship as the crew will let us. We tried to sneak into the engine room but some burly chap in an overall ordered us out.’

‘So I should think. I hope you won’t try that again. It’s
dangerous down there.’

‘Jolly hot too.’ Eddy scratched his head, yawning. ‘The other boys are all talking about Mr Parnell’s murder. Have they got any ideas as to who did it?’

‘Don’t joke about such things.’ Flora’s cup rattled as she handed it to him. ‘Besides, who says it was murder?’

‘Well, suspicions then. I overheard Giggles tell the second officer he thought Mr Parnell’s death wasn’t an accident.’

‘Who’s Giggles?’

‘That’s what the passengers call Captain Gates, because he laughs all the time.’

‘I trust you always address him as Captain Gates, and nothing else.’ She hid a smile at this portrayal of the good captain. He had the most sparkling eyes and a mouth permanently upturned in an amiable smile. Flora had also been witness to the fact he could issue orders from the bridge to the boat deck without the use of a megaphone. ‘What exactly did the captain say about the accident?’

‘Not much.’ Eddy draped one leg over the arm of the chair and swiped a biscuit from the tray. ‘We were in one of the lifeboats. “The matter warrants further investigation,” were his exact words.’

‘To whom did he say that?’ Eddy took another biscuit, at which Flora moved the plate out of his reach. ‘And what exactly were you doing in a lifeboat?’

‘Playing pirates.’ His grimace indicated her question was unreasonable. ‘He was with that American chap with the grey moustache.’ He examined his wristwatch. ‘Blimey, it’s nearly time for breakfast, and I’m not even dressed.’ He slurped half his tea in one gulp, then headed for his room.

‘Eddy! Since when do you use words like that?’

He turned back at the door and shrugged. ‘Ozzy says it sometimes.’

‘It’s a profanity, which I’m certain would be frowned upon at Marlborough.’

Eddy murmured something unintelligible before closing his door with a bang, but Flora chose not to ask him to repeat it.

Perhaps it was a good thing he was off to boarding school.

Bunny was seated alone at their table when Flora entered the dining room. She gave her order to the waiter and drummed her fingers on the table until he left.

‘Well,’ she asked Bunny when the man was out of earshot. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me about Eloise?’

‘What’s to ask?’ He swallowed a mouthful of coffee, setting the cup back into its saucer with a click. ‘She was semi-conscious when I left. I assume you settled her in bed and left her to sleep it off.’

‘Not quite, she—’ Flora broke off as the waiter returned with a gleaming, silver coffee pot, fidgeting as he fussed with the crockery and enquired if they desired anything further.

‘You seem edgy,’ Bunny said when they were alone again, a tiny crease between his brows. ‘Did something happen after I left last night?’

Flora told him.

‘Are you serious?’ His voice rose, then dropped again to an angry whisper. ‘How could you have been so reckless?’

She shushed him when several heads turned in their direction. ‘It all happened so quickly, I didn’t have time to argue. Eloise practically dragged me along.’

‘I’m not the one to whom you’ll have to make your
excuses if you are found out.’ He spread a piece of toast with butter, adding after a pause. ‘There was nothing there, you say?’

‘No money, but there was this photograph in amongst his shirts. I didn’t have time to study it closely, because we were interrupted, but—’

‘You were discovered?’ His toast froze halfway to his mouth.

She waved him away, impatient. ‘A couple came to the wrong stateroom, but went away again. No one saw us.’

He exhaled slowly through pursed lips and relaxed back in his chair. The relief on his face made her want to wrap her arms around him to reassure him he had no reason to worry on her account. It was a strange sensation, similar to the protectiveness she felt towards Eddy, but somehow different.

‘Do you have the photograph?’ he asked.

‘What?’ She slanted a look at him beneath her lashes. ‘And add theft to my litany of crime?’

‘No, of course not, I simply—’ He dropped the toast back onto his plate untouched. ‘Can you be sure it wasn’t a picture of Eloise and Parnell? They might have been closer than she admitted.’

‘I’m positive.’ She hunched closer. ‘He was taller and far more handsome. And he had a moustache.’

‘Like roughly a third of the male population,’ Bunny murmured.

‘Here’s another question then. Why does Eloise dye her hair an unflattering black? It dulls her vibrant looks, which is the opposite of what she would want.’

‘I expect actresses do it all the time to suit their roles.’ He took a bite of his toast and chewed.

Flora fiddled with her napkin, mainly to give her
something to do with her hands to stop her slapping him. Why did he have to contradict everything she said?

‘Flora?’ he said, slowly after a moment. ‘You realize that had Eloise taken money from the cabin, and been caught, you would have been an accessory to theft?’

‘The money was Eloise’s, so that’s not like—’ she broke off. ‘Oh. I couldn’t prove that, could I?’

‘Exactly. And it worries me that you took her word for it.’

He was right. That was exactly what she had done, believed every word Eloise had told her.

‘It didn’t sound like a lie at the time.’ Aware her excuse sounded feeble, Flora fell silent as the waiter slid a plate of yellow smoked haddock that glistened beneath a layer of melted butter in front of her. A glistening, perfectly round poached egg on top.

‘She couldn’t have known he was going to die.’ Flora trickled vinegar onto her fish, then caught Bunny’s expression of horror and frowned. ‘What?’

‘Are you actually going to eat that now?’ He wrinkled his nose and peered at her plate.

‘I certainly am.’ Dipping her fork into the white flesh, she brought it to her lips, trying not to moan with pleasure as she swallowed the first mouthful. ‘Eloise isn’t convinced Parnell’s death was an accident, either.’

‘Why do you care if it was murder or not?’ Bunny lowered his voice as passengers filed into the dining room. ‘You didn’t even know the man.’

‘Maybe not.’ Flora twirled her fork, pensive. ‘I simply hate being told what to do by men who think they have all the answers.’ Officer Martin’s dismissive sneer loomed into her head. She stabbed the poached egg with her knife, breaking the yolk.

‘Governess one minute, emancipated woman the next.’ Bunny regarded her over the rim of his coffee cup. ‘You’re something of an enigma, Miss Maguire.’

A warm glow spread upwards from her stomach, dissolving when it occurred to her that he couldn’t be interested in her, not really. He was merely amusing himself.

‘What about the cash Parnell won at cards?’ Flora said, composed again. ‘Eloise didn’t know about that. The money should have been in his stateroom, but there was no sign of it.’ She was about to dip a piece of bread roll into the runny egg yolk on her plate, but thought better of it.

‘His winnings could have been on his body.’ Bunny chewed a piece of bacon thoughtfully. ‘If so, Captain Gates would have lodged it in the ship’s safe.’

‘I suppose that’s possible.’ Flora sighed as her carefully thought out theory began to fall apart.

‘So where does this take us?’ Bunny asked, when she remained silent. ‘Perhaps Eloise thought he would lose her money at the card table and refused to give it to him. They argued and he ended up at the bottom of those steps?’

‘But he didn’t lose,’ Flora said. ‘He won.’

‘The other night he did, but gamblers always think they’ll win. That’s why they’re gamblers.’

‘I don’t believe Eloise is either a thief or a killer,’ Flora insisted. ‘She’s a young woman alone who has to make the best of her life because she has no one else to do it for her.’

‘How do you know she’s alone in the world? Is that what she told you?’

‘Well, not in so many words. It was an impression I got.’ Flora stirred milk into her coffee, marshalling her thoughts. ‘Bunny,’ she began, ‘something very odd
happened last night, I—’

‘I know it did. You became a burglar.’

‘No, not that, someone—’ She gasped, and clamped a hand to her mouth as creeping dread crept into her chest. ‘I’ve just remembered! We didn’t lock Parnell’s door after we left.’

Bunny groaned. ‘Tell me you’re joking.’

She shook her head, wincing. ‘Do you think anyone will notice?’

‘Probably, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.’ His gaze slid past her shoulder, and he cleared his throat in warning.

Flora turned her head just as Cynthia approached, looking stunning in yellow silk.

‘Aren’t you two the early birds,’ she cooed in a fair imitation of one herself. ‘Here I thought I was the first.’

‘The sea air makes me hungry.’ Bunny stood while Cynthia took her seat.

Flora reached for her coffee, annoyed with herself at having failed again to tell him about the threat. Now Bunny would think she was keeping secrets from him.

The dining room began to fill, putting an end to their conversation. Gerald and Monica squabbled their way from the door. On reaching their places, their sour expressions transformed into identical smiles, as if a switch had been pressed.

Most of the time the Gilmores seemed incapable of being more than a handclasp away from each other, but at others appeared positively hostile.

‘Probably sleeping it off,’ Gerald said when he caught Flora staring at Eloise’s chair.

‘I suppose so.’ She gave him a weak smile. It wasn’t the
condition of Eloise’s head that concerned her. For the tenth time that morning, Flora wished she had kept the photograph from Parnell’s cabin.

Miss Ames arrived on Mr Hersch’s arm attired in a combination of lime green and salmon pink, which reminded Flora of a parakeet.

The German wished everyone a breezy ‘Good morning’ before launching into an animated conversation with Cynthia and the writer. His ability to pay attention to a beautiful woman and a plain one with equal charm was a skill Flora could never have guessed at, but couldn’t help admiring.

His penetrating eyes beneath thick, arched silver brows viewed the world with wry amusement, and as with all genuinely clever men, he made no attempt to demonstrate his intellect. He gave a considered response and a warm smile to their every remark, no matter how banal.

‘Do you happen to be acquainted with Mrs Moreland’s school in Bath, Miss Maguire?’ Monica asked, distracting Flora. ‘We hope to send our girls there in the autumn.’

‘Really, Monica,’ her husband said with barely concealed irritation. ‘Flora doesn’t have an intimate knowledge of every educational establishment in the county.’

‘I haven’t, I’m afraid,’ Flora said gently, softening Gerald’s response. ‘Cleeve Abbey is at least fifty miles from Bath. Though I may know someone who might. I’d be happy to write and ask them for you.’

‘That’s most kind of you, my dear.’ Monica’s gracious smile transformed into a frosty glare she directed at her husband.

‘Yesterday must have been something of an ordeal for you, dear lady,’ Hersch said to Mrs Penry-Jones casually, though his intense stare told Flora he waited with interest
for her answer.

‘Ordeal?’ The lady’s voice rose. ‘Why should you think so?’

‘I meant the death of Mr Parnell,’ Hersch persisted, watching from half-closed lids. ‘Violent death is hardly a daily occurrence.’

Mrs Penry-Jones inhaled, narrowing her already thin nostrils. ‘Members of the lower classes come to grief all the time. Why should this particular one have affected me?’

‘And if that’s not a
Pooterism
, I don’t know what is.’ Gerald snorted.

‘Interesting,’ Flora murmured, and wondered if that was deliberate self-effacement on Gerald’s part, or a genuine lack of vanity?

‘Sorry, what did you say?’ Bunny broke off his conversation and asked.

‘It means someone who takes themselves grotesquely seriously.’

‘From the novel,
The Diary of a Nobody
,’ Bunny said. ‘I’ve read it.’

‘Apparently Gerald has too, and yet he always looks bored when Monica and Miss Ames talk literature, it surprised me, that’s all.’

‘Oh, look out.’ Bunny nodded to where Mrs Penry-Jones had slapped her companion’s hand away from her cup with an angry tut.

‘Hester! You know I don’t like sugar in my coffee.’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Penry-Jones, I quite forgot.’ Flushing, Hester summoned the waiter, who replaced her employer’s cup with a fresh one.

Flora’s sympathy for Miss Smith rose to the surface, and she wondered if anyone had asked Hester how she
felt about Parnell’s death.

‘What about you, Miss Smith?’ Mr Hersch’s amiable smile expertly diffused the awkward moment. ‘Are you equally unmoved by the death of a fellow passenger?’ His question voiced Flora’s thoughts so closely, she stared at him, but he was not looking her way.

‘I-I think it was a dreadful thing to happen.’ Hester pushed her fried egg into mush with her fork, her gaze on her plate. ‘I can have no feelings one way or the other. I wasn’t acquainted with the gentleman.’

‘He wasn’t a gentleman!’ Mrs Penry-Jones snorted. ‘He was a weak, vacillating man with no ambition. Bound to come to a bad end.’