“Were you speaking to me, sir?” She asked in her plummiest English tones. She watched with interest as the blood rose up the captain’s neck staining it and his jowls deep red. She could see him biting back harsh words.
“I asked your name, ma’am. Which you utterly failed to provide earlier.” His words were clipped, but the Contessa smiled, they provided exactly the opportunity she’d been looking for.
“I am the Contessa Lenora, widow of his Excellency, the Sicilian Count Espranzo di Sarducci, and of Lord Sir Archibald McAllister. You may refer to me only as La Contessa. Perhaps as my Lady if we are at dinner.”
She was surprised to find that she held back the name of her other deceased husband. She hadn’t intended to, but it wouldn’t do to show all her cards at once. So she glared across the table and tried to ignore the suspicious note in the captain’s voice as he demanded that she repeat her story again.
“Perhaps if I go back to the very beginning and use smaller words, Sir?” She smiled graciously as his lips thinned and noticed the slight but definite curl to his lip. “So you don’t like being talked down to? Good, neither do I.”
That being said, she rested back in her chair and turned her thoughts to the events before the event, as it were.
“I was awakened at midnight when the ship cast off its moorings. I am a light sleeper, you see, and the noise of the fans engaging and the motors starting was quite noticeable. I went back to sleep, but was dressed and ready for my cafe by five-thirty.”
She paused, gathering her thoughts. How to explain why she’d gone to the radio room without giving away her familiarity with airships? Then she decided not to explain at all.
“I was under the impression that usually any cables or wires are tucked under your door by five. I am expecting an urgent cable from Ottawa, you see. So, when it hadn’t arrived by six, I decided to save the poor man in the radio room a few steps and fetch it myself.”
“What made you think you had a message to fetch? And how did you know where to look for the radio room?”
Yes, his voice was definitely showing suspicion. “Oh dear, smaller words, pet?”
She smiled again as his face flushed. She was beginning to think that she disliked this man. She loved men! Three times a widow, never one to overlook a handsome face, and yet this gammy-man made her yearn to be mean to him. Nevertheless, she tried to reign in her temper.
“I was a frequent flyer in Europe, and while these American ships do have some superficial differences, the very nature of an airship requires that certain elements be placed in the same location on every ship. I am not one of those vapid floozies that hang about the bridge railings hoping for a glimpse of the dashing captain. I am an educated woman of the world. So I would be grateful if you would treat me as such.”
His lip curled again, ever so slightly. So, he hated intelligent, independent women even more than those moaning limpets. Interesting.
“As I was saying, I was expecting a very important cable from the Prime Minister’s secretary,” There. That ought to instil a little respect into the man. “And even allowing for things to be more,” she searched for a less insulting term than shoddy, “relaxed, here in the colonies, there are five hours between midnight and five in the morning. That’s plenty of time to write out the messages and deliver them, so I was a touch concerned that there had been a problem.”
He just stared at her, so she continued. “I brought Pepe as I didn’t want her to get out of my stateroom and get lost. And it was fortuitous, as it turned out.” She smiled at the captain again. “That means that it worked out well.”
The only response was a muscle twitching in his jaw. So Lenora eased up a bit.
“When I reached the radio room, my first thought was how lovely it looked in the morning light. All the brass was shining that particular shade of pinkish-yellow you only see at sunrise. It was then that I first smelled blood.”
“Familiar with that scent, are you?” His tone made it sound dirty, scurrilous.
“I do consult with the Prime Minister on matters of national importance, my good man. It is not for fashion tips that he sends me cables so close to Canada’s second anniversary of independence.” Her nose tilted up despite her best efforts to remain polite. “I am not at liberty to discuss the details, but I may say that yes, I am familiar with the monsters that walk about as men.”
The captain remained silent for a long moment. Perhaps finally impressed with the woman before him.
“So you were snooping where you shouldn’t have been.”
Lenora gasped, that was beyond rude. She was done with coddling this annoying little punter.
“I beg your pardon? I do not snoop. I inquire into matters that concern me.”
The captain was silent at last.
But it was a tense silence: Lenora staring down her nose, the captain close to openly glaring back. Suddenly Pepe jumped from her lap to bark and leap at the door.
“Pepe, come here.” Lenora patted her lap. But Pepe spared her not a glance as a firm knock sounded on the doorframe. The tiny dog nearly exploded with renewed vigor, leaping as high as her tiny legs could propel her.
“Come!”
The captain raised one hand to his eyes to identify the crewman silhouetted against the bright sunlight in the door.
The man stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He smelled of oils and smoke as he stood meeting the captain’s gaze. It was a manly enough smell, and it took her back to her days as a girl in London.
Lenora inhaled his scent in a deep breath, and coughed gently. The man turned to her. Pepe had stopped barking, but now sniffed madly at him, as high and as thoroughly as she could reach. Her tail waved madly, nearly dragging her off of her feet a few times.
Before Pepe could tinkle in excitement, Lenora snapped her fingers, summoning the dog to her side.
“Bad girl, you know better than to jump on people. Now apologize to the man.” She turned towards the crewman, holding Pepe up to him for absolution.
The man bowed deeply, “Forgive me for not greeting you, madam, I failed to see you in the shadows. And how I wish I had not.” The man gazed up through his lashes at Lenora. She felt her heart skip a beat. The crewman smiled rakishly, a dimple showing on one cheek.
This man was no callow youth, despite his attempt at flirtation. His eyes were like her dear Count, the color of darkest chocolate with a twinkle of fun in the corners. His hair silvered at the temples, but was thick and full with a slight curl at his collar. A dusting of ash and oil droplets splashed across his cheeks like freckles. He bowed again and doffed his hat.
Her face flushed and, suddenly breathless, Lenora held out a hand in greeting. Her heart pounded when he took her hand to his lips for a proper European greeting. Her voice utterly failed her.
It was only as he turned to report to the captain that she caught the faint trace of a Scottish accent, but not one a lady should know. Certainly not one a Lady’s heart should react to, as it sounded of docks and back alleys. He reminded her of her dear Esperanzo, that was all. She certainly wasn’t a foolish girl to be chasing a pair of dark eyes and hint of bad boy.
“If my chief engineer is done with making cow eyes at my murder suspect….” The captain left the rest of the sentence hanging as the engineer spun to face his superior and nod his head. He was done with her, his stance seemed to say.
She took the opportunity to walk out without so much as a by-your-leave.
She did not have to answer to the captain.
2
Lenora had changed into a completely new outfit and tossed the blood-stained one over the side of the airship. She refused to be reminded of waking in a pool of blood every time she opened her wardrobe.
Later, the Contessa and Pepe made a leisurely turn about the lower deck. She was surprised to find herself outside the radio room, or, at least, that’s what she would tell people. Pepe had led her here while her mind was elsewhere.
She picked
up the small dog to keep it quiet as she leaned in at the door. She heard men arguing at the other end of the room. Their voices were muffled by the machinery and she could only make out a few words.
Tip-toeing as silently as she could, the Contessa moved further into the room. She didn’t get very far when something wrapped around her ankle and threw her to the deck. Pepe landed a few feet away, barking madly.
Lenora shrieked, wildly clawing at a tentacle that wrapped around her leg, trying desperately to free herself. The men came over like a stampede, but didn’t help her. In fact, one or two were trying not to laugh. So Lenora strengthened her will and peered down at what was grabbing her.
It was a curl of paper.
She gathered her tattered shreds of dignity and clothed herself in her superiority. Elegantly raising one hand, she allowed the handsome engineer she’d seen earlier to help her to her feet. Several of the men, including a doctor, looked away, hiding their smiles. The captain laughed right in her face!
She pulled herself up straight, every inch a lady, and peered down her nose at the men, except the engineer, who’s name she earnestly wished to know, but didn’t have the audacity to ask. He removed his smoky smelling jacket and set it gently across her shoulders. Its warmth and manly scent were very welcome as Lenora realized that she was shaking.
“Thank you, mister….” She smiled up at him, noticing that he seemed only a bit taller than herself, at least while she was wearing her heeled boots.
But he failed to take the bait, bending over her hand with a murmured, “My Lady Contessa.”
The captain glared at them both.
“This is not high tea with the Queen, Mister Patrick! Get back to work!” The engineer doffed his hat, bent at the waist and still managed to wink at Lenora. As he straightened up to salute the captain, she felt her cheeks burn.
What a scallywag. Such a flirt, and in front of…well, everyone. She wasn’t as offended as her scarlet face made it look. At her ripe old age of thirty and five, she knew men were not serious when they flirted. She was like a dowager, someone to toy with, to practice their skills on before sweeping a much younger woman off her feet. Still, he was a pleasant chap, and she had no doubt he was experienced with…no. She wouldn’t think of him that way. He was too low born for such as her.
No lower born than yourself, whispered a small voice in her mind.
She smiled sweetly as a crimson flush spread across the captain’s entire face. As he wiped his hand across his face to calm himself, she noticed a small pattern of red mist at his white cuff. Immediately her suspicious nature was aroused. That could be from moving the man’s body, but to her it looked exactly like the mist coating the dials.
“Perhaps I should be asking the bleeding dog my questions?! It seems the more intelligent of the two of you.”
She tilted her nose in the air and responded in glacial tones, “I’ll leave as soon as I have my cable in hand.”
“There is no bloody cable!”
“Of course, there is. And I mislike your overuse of the term bloody. Everything considered, it’s in appalling taste.”
One of the other men had gathered up all of the loose bits of curled paper and hid the bloodied ones behind him. “Wail, Sair,” he said in a heavy, Scottish accent, “there maen be a cable for the wee miss. We jes’ need sommat to read ‘em.” He held out a handful of red, wet paper. “An’ pairhaps maen clean ‘em, as well.”
The captain raised an eyebrow at him and the man fell silent.
Lenora sighed, she had no intention of volunteering for that duty. She’d seen enough blood for one day. And so no one was more surprised than she when she held her hand out for the scraps of paper.
“I’ll do it, a little vinegar and they’ll be all clean again. But it needs a delicate touch.”
Shocked, the captain nodded, and the crewman handed her a crushed, damp pile of paper bits, some already shredding from his roughness.
The maid screamed at the top of her lungs when Lenora entered the cabin, her clean blouse newly blood-stained from the red wisps of paper held cradled in its folds.
“Stop that, it’s not my blood.” Sarah did stop, though her breathing was ragged from the effort. Lenora looked at her red-tinged hands and the bloody pile on the floor. She had to admit that it did look bad.
“But ma’am, whose else blood could it be? You didn’t…”
“Of course I didn't. There were…special…unusual…it doesn’t matter. I’ll need to clean up right away so the blood doesn’t stain.” She turned and walked into the tiny washroom behind her.
Lenora carefully washed her hands and tried to blot the stain out of her white blouse before going back and making her explanations, she wanted to look less a fool in the telling than she was in life.
By the time the maid had steadied herself and resumed tidying, Lenora had sponged the papers as clean and dry as they would ever be. She’d taken a brief look at each message and was confident that none was for her.
So where was her message? She’d have to be certain to send a cable to Sir MacDonald to let him know that it had been intercepted. This thought had her very concerned.
She deeply considered what this could mean for the safety of the Prime Minister and herself. Clearly one of the conspirators was on board with her.
At that moment the maid started to cry again.
“Stop that, what is wrong with you?”
The maid hiccupped, trying to stop her tears. “My…my boyfriend…I caught him with…another….” But there she burst into tears again.
Lenora moved to sit beside the girl and patted her hand comfortingly. Unfortunately, the young lady took this as an invitation to throw herself into Lenora’s arms and begin weeping again. Lenora sighed, this had been her best blouse, but between the blood and the tears…well, she could afford another.
She absent-mindedly patted the maid’s back as she concerned herself again with the missing cable. She had no idea what the exact problem was, she knew only that the Prime Minister himself had requested that she return to Ottawa as soon as possible. He had used the word plot and hinted at a bombing or an assassination attempt.
If she’d been thinking straight, she would have simply ordered a private airship, but as her late husband’s company owned this airship line, she’d felt that it would do.
Well, clearly, it doesn’t do now, but it is too late to do anything about it. By the time we arrive in Quebec City, and I arrange for another airship, it would be faster to stay on this one. And besides, there is someone on this ship with untoward intentions. The headless body in the radio room proved that.
She only realized that she’d been speaking aloud when the maid raised her head and mumbled through quivering lips, “The radio room? Was it…was it Timothy?”
“Why, I have no idea. Who is Timothy?”
“He’s my boyfriend, well, he was until…” She hiccupped and fresh tears began to gather in her eyes.
“None of that, sit up straight and tell me, who is Timothy and why should he be in the radio room?” But she already knew the answers.
The sharp rebuke worked as intended, the girl sat up straight and dabbed her eyes with a corner of her skirt.
“He’s my—he was my boyfriend. We were going to get married when we’d earned enough to settle down. He says that an airship is no place to raise a child.”
“I see, and why should he be in the radio room?” Lenora repeated.
“Why, because he was the only one aboard who could read those little dots the cable machine puts on the paper. He knows all the best gossip, for he must read every message and write it down.”
Lenora pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and drew a deep breath. She so hated weepy and missish females. But she had to admit, this one had a right to weep today. It also occurred to her that she had admitted that she also could read the dots. Was she now in danger? None of the messages she’d decoded were of any import, mostly congratulations on a wedding, a bereav
ement notice, that sort of thing. Of course, there was the voice, which she thought of as the ghost of her grandmother, for it seemed sometimes to be not a part of her, but someone else speaking to her….
The girl shook her pleadingly and quite derailed Lenora's train of thought.
“Please, ma’am, was it my Timothy?”
“Yes, my dear I fear it was.” The girl exploded into fresh tears accompanied this time by loud wailing. Her grief was overwhelming and Lenora felt more sympathy than irritation as her favorite blouse was twisted in the girl’s hands.
But a few minutes of this and Lenora became restless. Why had someone killed the man? What was the gossip he was so eager to share with his lover? Was he the reason the girl had arrived an hour late with her dress all akilter? She didn’t approve of those goings-on, not before marriage anyway. She immediately amended her position on this topic, as she remembered those goings-on with Esperanzo occurred when she was no older than this girl. She recalled her blood melting in her veins like butter, and her lipstain smearing under his passionate kisses.
Lenora shook herself—that was enough of that. Poor Espy was dust in his grave by now and there was no purpose to daydreaming of him. But that did remind her of a question she had for this endless font of tears in her lap.
“Why were you so angry with Timothy that you ended your relationship this morning?”
The words had an instant effect as the maid sat up, her cheeks burning with anger, her eyes dry and glittering.
“Why, he had another lover! I was still there when….” But the girl couldn’t finish the sentence.
Lenora tapped her teeth, thinking. She didn’t understand the tears for the lying cad, another woman indeed! Why had one of her darling husbands tried that she’d have taken a pistol and…. She looked at the girl again with quite a different look in her eyes. Guilt and grief might look a lot alike to an outsider.
Lenora had dismissed the maid. She was of no use today. And with two blouses ruined by blood and tears already, she preferred her own company just now. She had a great deal to consider, including whether she should take charge of the investigation. It did happen on one of her dear Hector’s airships, so it definitely was her business. Was it related to the current issues in Ottawa? Or was it a jealous lover, there were at least two girls who knew his ways now.
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