Set For Murder (Showbiz Is Murder Book 1)

by Jolie Beaumont

  The manageress offered a million apologies, but she didn’t recall finding a letter. “We sweep and wash the floor every day, my lady. If we had found your letter, we would have notified you at once.”

  Meanwhile, Penny was called to consult with one of the hairdressers about the hairstyle she wanted. In the chair next to hers sat Lady Lambton-Keene, whose newly coiffed hair was getting a few finishing touches. The two women nodded. Lady Lambton-Keene, having noticed Penny’s reading material, said, “Don’t tell me you’re really a foreign agent in disguise, Miss Garnett. It would be too thrilling.”

  “I’d make a terrible spy. When I get nervous, I flub my lines.”

  Lady Lambton-Keene gave her hair one last parting look in the mirror and rose from her chair. She gave the hairdresser a generous tip and then nodded a goodbye to Penny.

  From the mirror in front of her chair Penny had a good view of much of the room. She saw Lady Lambton-Keene say a few words to Lady Margaret and then she left. Lady Margaret remained, and Penny heard her say to the manageress, “The letter may have fallen out of my purse while I was reading one of those magazines. I’ll just take a look.”

  Lady Margaret went over to the magazines and sat down in the chair where Penny had been sitting. At first Lady Margaret calmly went through the magazines, picking up one of them and replacing it, and then picking up another, as though she didn’t remember which one she had selected to read. After a few minutes, her search became more determined, until she gave up and returned to the salon’s entrance.

  “Did you find it, Lady Margaret?” asked the manageress.

  “No. I suppose it’s gone. It doesn’t matter, really. It wasn’t important.”

  Lady Margaret left the salon.

  “Mademoiselle?”

  “What?” Penny, who had been so involved in watching Lady Margaret, realized that she was being spoken to.

  “The part. Do you wish it on the right side, or should all the hair be pulled back, like so?” The hairdresser demonstrated what she meant.

  After they decided upon a hairstyle, Penny was escorted back to her chair in the waiting area. While she waited to be called to have her hair washed, she carefully went through the pages of her magazine, which she still had with her. She was certain this magazine called Foreign Affairs was the one that Lady Margaret had been looking for.

  The letter—it was actually a ship’s telegram—was stashed between the pages of an article about rice production in China. Penny slipped it into her purse. And even though she was dying to know what it said, a little voice was telling her that she shouldn’t be seen reading it in public.

  Curiosity is one of the most powerful forces in the world, and after just a few moments Penny knew she couldn’t sit through an entire wash, set and dry while that telegram was calling to her from her purse, tempting her to read it at once. She therefore made her excuses to the manageress, claiming the onset of a headache which needed immediate care, and left the salon.

  But where should she go? The obvious place was to return to her cabin and chance being the next sitting duck. However, the thought of walking down the corridor alone, even in the middle of the day, and even though there was supposed to be a steward on duty in the pantry at all times, made her shiver. What if she should encounter Peter Carroll unexpectedly? She knew she would scream—and that would give the show away.

  “I’ll find Inspector Travers,” she decided, and she walked in the direction of the office he was using as his headquarters.

  She felt safe in the lobby, where people were milling about. Women were looking at shop windows, including a mother and her children, who were admiring the display window of the chocolate shop. A few men were sitting in the smoking room, whose double doors facing the lobby were open. When Penny entered the library, it was empty except for two people: Lady Lambton-Keene was pursuing the books in the section marked “Mysteries,” while Lady Margaret was rummaging through the drawers of a writing table. Lady Margaret looked up when Penny entered.

  “There never seems to be any blotting paper,” said Lady Margaret, closing a drawer.

  “The steward might be able to get some for you,” said Lady Lambton-Keene, without looking away from the shelf of books.

  “Yes, I suppose he can. Although it will probably be just as quick if I go back to my cabin.”

  Meanwhile, Penny continued to the closed door of the inspector’s office and knocked. Prickles on the back of her neck made her sure she was being watched by at least one of the women in the room. Or was it just nerves?

  “I don’t think the inspector is in there,” said Lady Margaret, who had come up behind Penny. “Is it something important? If I see him on the way to my cabin, I can tell him.”

  Penny hesitated. She knew she should give the telegram back to Lady Margaret. It was probably nothing, and she had no business reading it. If she had handed it over as soon as she entered the room, the exchange would have been natural and over in a few seconds. Now, though, it would take a better actress than Penny Garnett to pull off the scene so she didn’t look like a low-class snoop.

  Later, she would find a way to return it, Penny decided. For now, Penny hugged her handbag closer to her body. “I was looking for Mr. Baird. We had arranged to go to the ice cream parlor and have a chocolate sundae.”

  Lady Margaret stiffened and looked Penny up and down. “I didn’t know Mr. Baird was interested in chocolate sundaes. If I see him, I’ll let him know you’re waiting for him. In your cabin, you said?”

  “No, I said in the ice cream parlor,” Penny replied, ignoring the less than honorable insinuation. “I think I’ll check there now.”

  Penny quickly left the room. She hoped everyone in England didn’t look down upon show people and assume the worst about them; if they did, she and Nick were in for a dreary run.

  “Oh, Miss Garnett …”

  Penny turned. To her surprise, she saw that Lady Lambton-Keene was coming after her.

  “Please forgive Lady Margaret. She … well, how should I say it?” Lady Lambton-Keene gave Penny a warm smile.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Penny replied, her anger melting. “I think I understand.”

  “Do you mind if I walk with you to the ice cream parlor? I haven’t been there yet. And I’m so curious about what you said in the beauty salon. Do you really forget your lines when you’re nervous? I always thought professional performers had nerves of steel. I sometimes participate in amateur productions, local productions for charity, don’t you know, and once in a while one of the local performers gets such a bad case of nerves that he can’t go on. I’d love to know if there are any tricks that you professionals use …”

  Penny gave an inward sigh of relief as Lady Lambton-Keene rambled on. Thank goodness not every English aristocrat was a snob!

  Nick, meanwhile, had decided he wanted to keep what little hair he still had. But he liked the idea of using a barbershop as a setting for a new dance number. He knew audience tastes well enough to know that people always craved something new, and a barbershop “ballet” hadn’t been done, to his knowledge.

  The barbershop staff wasn’t thrilled to have a stranger following them about and watching their every move as they worked. But as was true of all the staff on the ship, they were the epitome of politeness. One barber did open his mouth to protest when Nick picked up two of his brushes and tap-danced across the room with them; he calmed down, though, when Nick tapped back and return them. As for the customers, some were amused and some thought Nick was a lunatic.

  Cecil Arden, who had been getting a shave, thought the young man was a little of both. He was used to the eccentricities of artists, though, and didn’t mind them—as long as they weren’t a bore or a nuisance. “Would you care to join me for a drink before dinner?” he asked.

  Nick usually didn’t drink more than a little wine at dinner, but he accepted the invitation. He had exhausted the artistic possibilities of the barbershop for the moment, and he still felt
the need to be in a public place with people.

  “Well, who gets your vote?” asked Cecil, when they were seated in the bar.

  “I’m not interested in politics.”

  “You know what I mean. Who is our murderer?”

  “I’m a song and dance man,” said Nick, starting to feel sorry he had accepted the invitation. He wanted to get away from talk about the murders, not discuss them. “I leave the detecting to Inspector Travers.”

  “I thought you might have some inside knowledge.” Cecil had ordered a brandy and he warmed the snifter in his hands. “I saw you and Inspector Travers go into Miss Garnett’s cabin at a rather odd time last night.”

  Nick hadn’t paid much attention to Cecil Arden before, but now that he was seeing the man up close he thought he detected a sinister cast to the Englishman’s face. The eyebrows were just a little too bushy and the pupils of his eyes a little too bright. If Arden were an actor, Nick would have cast him in mad scientist roles—where the scientist starts out as a perfectly normal person and then slowly becomes raving mad. Once again, Nick found himself searching for a graceful exit line. “You must be a light sleeper.”

  “I am, especially under these circumstances.”

  “Well, I think I’ll try to get a quick nap in before dinner.”

  “You can still sleep soundly, when there is a murderer in our midst?”

  “I’m not afraid.” Nick hoped he had sounded brave—and that Arden hadn’t noticed that Nick’s hands had started to shake. Those tell-tale hands were now safely stowed away in his trouser pockets.

  “Then you must know who did it.” Cecil drank down his brandy in one gulp. “I think I know who did it too. But I suppose it isn’t wise to say too much.”

  The ice cream parlor was located off the main lobby, down a long corridor. As Penny walked and heard the lonely echo of her high-heeled shoes clicking on the polished tile floor, she wondered that she hadn’t noticed before the dimness of the lighting—and she was glad to have Lady Lambton-Keene as a companion. If she had been walking down the corridor alone and had suddenly heard footsteps coming up behind her, she knew she would have died of fright.

  When they were about halfway down the corridor, Lady Lambton-Keene stopped. “Oh, dear,” she said.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Not with me. It’s you. You’re beginning to get a ladder in your stocking. In the back. Left leg.”

  Penny tried to see, but no matter how she twisted and turned it was awkward viewing. Lady Lambton-Keene took her by the arm and led her onward.

  “It won’t do to have a torn stocking when you meet your young man. I always carry some clear nail polish in my handbag, and I see there is a powder room up ahead.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Lady Lambton-Keene. But I don’t want to trouble you.”

  “It’s no trouble at all.”

  Lady Lambton-Keene opened the door of the ladies room and let Penny go in first. The next thing Penny knew, she was sinking onto the cold green-tinted tile floor in a dizzying, sickening faint.

  CHAPTER 23

  WHEN PENNY CAME TO, she at first couldn’t understand what was making that loud buzzing noise. It took a few more minutes until the buzzing began to sort itself out into distinct voices and words.

  “Easy,” a man’s voice was saying. “Don’t try to sit up too quickly.”

  Penny felt someone with strong hands gently maneuver her into a sitting position. But when she opened her eyes, the room was spinning around so quickly that she nearly toppled over.

  “Try these smelling salts,” the same voice told her.

  A strong smell entered her nostrils and Penny’s eyes flew wide open.

  “I’m better now, thank you,” she said, leaning into the back of the chair and taking a deep breath of fresh air. Then she looked around at the faces staring down at her. Inspector Travers was standing to the left of someone who looked like a doctor—he was wearing the traditional white coat—and Nick, looking very worried, was peering over the doctor’s other shoulder. Beside Nick was Jeffrey Baird. Lady Lambton-Keene was standing beside Baird, also looking very worried. Sir William stood beside her. Cecil Arden stood a bit off to the side.

  “What happened?” she asked, feeling both confused and embarrassed by all this attention.

  “I’ll turn you over to Inspector Travers in a moment. I’m Dr. Wallace, and I’m going to ask you a few questions. Do you know you name?”

  “Of course I do. My name is Penny Garnett.”

  “Do you know where you are?”

  Penny glanced around the room. It looked familiar. “I’m on a ship. We’re sailing to England, aren’t we, Nick? Why is everyone looking so worried?”

  “I think she will be fine,” Dr. Wallace said to Inspector Travers. “Just don’t question her too long.” He turned back to Penny. “As for you, young lady, you’ve gotten a nasty bump on the head. After Inspector Travers finishes with you, I want you to go straight back to your cabin and stay there until tomorrow morning and get some rest. No dancing or midnight strolls on deck. Do I have your promise?”

  Penny tried to nod her head, but the motion made her feel dizzy.

  “I’ll see she gets safely to bed,” said Lady Lambton-Keene.

  “I’ll check on her again in a few hours,” Dr. Wallace said to Inspector Travers, and then he left.

  Inspector Travers sat down next to Penny. “Lady Lambton-Keene has told me what she saw happen. I’d like you to tell me what you remember.”

  Penny tried, but everything was a jumble. She gently rubbed the back of her head, which was still very sore. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to sort it out. Maybe if you asked some questions …”

  “All right. Do you recall going to the library?”

  Penny’s face brightened with recognition. “Why, yes. I did go there.” Then the dark cloud reappeared. “Or was it yesterday?” Penny looked at the faces surrounding her, as though hoping she might find a clue there. When she saw Lady Lambton-Keene, something stirred. After a few moments of struggle, she said, “It was today. We walked out together, didn’t we?”

  Lady Lambton-Keene, who had been told not to prompt Penny by the inspector, only nodded her head, as she had been instructed.

  “We were walking down a long corridor,” said Penny, “and we saw a powder room. We went inside and … I guess I took a powder.” Penny smiled weakly at her attempt at a joke.

  No one laughed. Penny was starting to realize she had had a very close shave, although she still didn’t understand what had happened.

  “Did you see anyone in the powder room?” asked the inspector.

  “No, it happened so fast, whatever it was. One moment I was fine and the next I felt like my head was exploding, from the pain. Then I blacked out, I guess. Were you hurt too, Lady Lambton-Keene?”

  Lady Lambton-Keene was about to answer, when Inspector Travers gave her a warning glance to remain silent.

  “Whoever was in there pushed her aside and ran into the corridor,” he said. “Because you entered the room first, you were the one who got coshed on the back of the head.”

  “Lucky me. But why?”

  “The person stole your handbag, I’m afraid.”

  “I told you, Inspector, there were rabble-rousers down in third class,” said Sir William. “I’m going to write a letter to the Times when we get home. Something has to be done about these troublemakers before they destroy the entire country.”

  “One stolen handbag is hardly the entire country, Sir William,” said the inspector.

  “This would never have happened before the war.”

  “You can continue this discussion with the inspector on your own time, dear,” said Lady Lambton-Keene. “Miss Garnett is looking very pale. If you’re done questioning her, Inspector, I’m taking her back to her cabin.”

  “My purse—” Penny protested. She recalled there was something important in her handbag, although she didn’t know what.

  “We�
��ll try to find it for you,” said Inspector Travers.

  “What about her key?” Nick asked.

  “The steward can open the door for us,” said Lady Lambton-Keene. “Now, come along, Miss Garnett.”

  “But if whoever has her purse has her key, that means they can open the door to her cabin,” said Nick.

  Penny looked at the inspector with frightened eyes.

  While Inspector Travers wasn’t convinced that the attack on Penny had anything to do with the two murders, he understood the concern of Penny and her brother—and he didn’t want to add to Penny’s anxiety while she was recovering from the blow to her head.

  “Mr. Baird, do you mind camping out with the inspector and giving your cabin to Miss Garnett?” asked Lady Lambton-Keene, beating Travers to a solution to the problem.

  “Penny can stay in my cabin,” said Nick. “We’re used to fighting over who gets to use the bathroom first.”

  “And that’s why she needs a cabin of her own, at least for tonight. The doctor said she needs rest,” Lady Lambton-Keene insisted.

  “I don’t mind, Baird,” said the inspector. “There’s a couch you can sleep on.”

  After Jeffrey Baird removed a few things he needed for the night and a steward changed the sheets and towels, Lady Lambton-Keene helped Penny get settled comfortably in bed. Nick, who had been hovering off to the side of the cabin, offered to sit with Penny until she fell asleep, but Lady Lambton-Keene wouldn’t hear of it.

  “You look like you’re the one who got coshed, Mr. Garnett,” she said. “I advise you to get some rest too.”

  “All right. But, Penny, if you need anything, let me know.”

  “I will, Nick.”

  Nick gave his sister a kiss on the forehead and left.

  “You’re very lucky to have a brother who cares about you so much,” said Lady Lambton-Keene.

  “We’re all we have in the world.”

  “No parents?”

  Penny shook her head. “My father passed away when we were young. Our mother died last year. At least, she got to see us perform on Broadway. That was always her dream.”