Cynthia choked on her coffee, returning the cup to the saucer with a firm click, her knuckles as white as the china in her hand.
‘As for what you saw, Mr Gilmore’ – Hester turned a coy look on him – ‘I could have been wrong about Mr Parnell. I sleep quite heavily, so he might very well have called on Mrs Penry-Jones.’
Flora frowned. Hester’s blatant contradiction seemed odd. And why would she implicate her employer had been lying? Then again, she could simply be a trouble maker. Hester certainly behaved differently when Mrs Penry-Jones wasn’t present.
‘Excuse me.’ Cynthia rose abruptly, her face pinched. She threw her napkin onto the table with the force of someone issuing a challenge to a duel. ‘I’ve remembered something important I must do.’ Without meeting anyone’s eyes, she turned and marched out of the dining room.
‘I ought to go and see if she’s all right,’ Max said with a sigh, rising more slowly.
‘Honeymooners, eh?’ Gerald chuckled when the pair were out of sight. ‘Never know what’s likely to upset ’em.’
‘How would you know, Gerald?’ Monica sniffed.
‘I wonder what Max said to upset Cynthia?’ Bunny whispered. ‘Her face was like thunder.’
Flora frowned, unsure whether it was Max who was the cause, or something else entirely.
Chapter 9
On the saloon deck that afternoon, Flora watched Eddy partner Ozzy in an enthusiastic game of ‘Chalking the pig’s eye’, offering encouragement when he lost and praise when he scored a point. The sound of her name being called brought her head up to where Bunny waved from the promenade deck above her. He pointed with a finger at his own chest, then down at her in a gesture inviting himself to join her.
At Flora’s nod, he performed a ‘thumbs up’ gesture, pushed back through the crowd, and a moment later, emerged again on the lower deck. Flora watched with possessive affection as he made his way towards her, offering polite smiles and greetings to fellow passengers as he passed.
‘How is Eddy getting on?’ he asked on reaching her.
‘He does have a remarkable aptitude for guessing where he should enter his mark.’ Flora said, conscious of the pressure of his upper arm against her shoulder.
‘Look, he’s done it again!’ She nodded to the blackboard which stood mere feet away, the roughly drawn shape of a pig traced in white chalk. ‘That’s his third high score.’
‘Hmmm…’ His sceptical tone brought her head round to face him. ‘That could be because his blindfold is thinner than Ozzy’s.’
‘I hadn’t noticed that actually.’ Flora narrowed her eyes. Bunny was right. Eddy’s blindfold was a thin strip of navy blue chiffon, too thin to obscure his sight. ‘I’ll have a word with him later on the subject of fair play.’
‘Best keep it to yourself if I were you.’ Bunny chuckled lightly. ‘By the way, I was about to pay a call on Matilda, would you care to join me?’
Flora hesitated, her desire to spend time with Bunny vying with her responsibility towards Eddy. ‘That’s kind of you, but I need to ensure Eddy is suitably occupied.’
‘He appears suitably occupied to me, and quite happily so. I think he won that game.’
‘Perhaps, although maybe I need to spend more time with him. I’m conscious of having let him too much to his own devices lately.’ Now they were virtually alone, she gathered her courage.
‘There is a reason for my being so cautious. It’s because someone approached-’ She looked up to see Eddy bounding towards her. ‘Never mind, I’ll tell you later.
The longer she left telling him about the man outside the dining room, the harder it became, though she couldn’t very well do so in front of Eddy.
‘May I go and listen to Mr Gilmore’s new gramophone?’ Eddy bounced on his toes in front of her. ‘It’s one of those new ones which plays disks instead of cylinders.’
‘Father has a recording of “When Johnny Comes Marching Home”,’ Ozzy added, joining him.
‘Do say I may, Flora!’ Eddy pleaded.
Flora hesitated, torn between denying Eddy a treat and a need to keep him close.
‘That sounds wonderful, doesn’t it Flora?’ Bunny ignored the hard look she slanted at him. ‘I wouldn’t mind hearing that myself sometime.’
‘Come now, Flora,’ Monica chided. ‘The boys would enjoy it. Gerald and I will even take them into tea later, how about that?’
‘Well, Flora?’ Four pairs of eyes viewed her expectantly.
A movement from the corner of her eye distracted her before she could answer. Captain Gates had passed on her right and strolled towards the companionway to the deck above.
‘If Mrs Gilmore is agreeable, Eddy, you may listen to the gramophone.’ Flora turned to Bunny. ‘I’ll come and see Matilda with you another time. Right now, there’s something I must do. Please excuse me.’
Accompanied by a despondent ‘as you wish’ from Bunny and enthusiastic thanks from Monica and both boys, Flora headed for the staircase lobby and climbed the stairs to where Captain Gates stood talking to Dr Fletcher. She had tried to reassure herself that her fears of croaky-voiced assailants who hid in alcoves were totally unfounded and that she and Eddy were perfectly safe, but she knew she shouldn’t ignore what happened outside the dining room, for Eddy’s sake if not for her own.
The thought persisted that if she found it difficult to tell Bunny, then perhaps she should tell someone in authority. Without a proper description it was unlikely they could do anything about it, but keeping it to herself was a heavy burden. She hovered on the fringe and waited for a suitable lull in the conversation, then almost left it too late, when, without warning, Captain Gates nodded curtly to Dr Fletcher, turned and pushed through the door onto the outside deck.
Flora was about to follow, when Dr Fletcher intercepted her. ‘Is there something you wanted, Miss Maguire?’
‘Um – I wish to have a word with the captain.’ Flora bounced on her heels as she watched her target disappear rapidly down along the deck through the window.
‘Anything I can do? He’s a busy man, you know.’ The implication the captain was too exalted to talk to her showed in Dr Fletcher’s world-weary expression.
‘Well, all right.’ She took a deep breath, aware what she about to say might sound odd in the clear light of day, but surely the ship’s doctor was also senior member of the crew. Maybe he had enough status to take whatever action was appropriate?
‘Last evening, a man approached me outside the dining room. Well, I assume it was a man but I didn’t see him, or her, but he – or she, delivered a warning.’
‘What sort of warning?’ Dr Fletcher folded his arms and regarded her down his nose.
‘That I should not ask questions about Mr Parnell’s death. Well, that’s not exactly what was said, but I assume that’s what was meant, it wasn’t that specific. However, it was implied that people are lost from ships all the time.’
‘And so they are. What exactly did he say, Miss Maguire?’
‘That um-I should leave well alone. And before you ask, no, I didn’t recognize his voice. Or maybe her voice,’ she trailed off, knowing by his face he had already dismissed her as either mistaken, or over dramatic.
‘I see.’ He turned away to acknowledge a regal-looking couple who sauntered past.
‘I thought the captain should know,’ Flora persisted. ‘Bearing in mind a man has been killed.’ She sensed his attention had drifted away and wished she hadn’t sounded so vague.
‘Mr Parnell died as the result of a fall,’ he interrupted her, regarding her with a mixture of resignation and false sympathy which must have taken him years to perfect. ‘I understand you were distraught at finding the body, though perhaps you have allowed yourself to dwell too much on the incident. As for whispered threats, well, they could simply be your fertile imagination.’
Flora counted backwards from ten. ‘I wish you wouldn’t keep accusing me of being distraught in a tone you might use for “unhinged”. I didn
’t imagine the threat, Doctor. It was quite real, and menacing.’ She put emphasis on the last word, attracting attention from several people who traversed the lobby.
The doctor smiled at them in an I-have-this-under-control way, and once they had passed by, he grasped her arm and guided her firmly into a door recess. ‘Forgive me, Miss Maguire, but you do appear somewhat agitated. Would a sedative help?’
'No, it would not, and – oh, never mind.’ She rolled her arm out of his hold as it occurred to her she was wasting her time. ‘I only ask that you relay my message to the captain. He’ll understand its importance, even if you don’t.’
‘Certainly. If that’s what you wish.’ He clicked his heels, then left through the same door the captain had used moments before.
Flora stared after him, while several uncomplimentary adjectives about officers, and men in general, lined up in her head. Even if he chose to pass on her concerns to the captain, would he do so in a light-hearted, patronizing way he had used just now?
She should have followed her own instincts and told Bunny first. He might have dismissed her too, but he would have done so in a more polite way. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
*
Flora paused beside Eloise’s stateroom on her way along the deck; the blinds were drawn and there was no sounds of life from inside. She moved away and was about to unlock the door of her suite when a shadow detached from a nearby pillar and walked towards her. She tensed instantly, but turned to see Mr Hersch’s kind smile, and chastised herself for being so jumpy.
‘Miss Maguire.’ He raised his fedora an inch above his head then replaced it on his salt and pepper hair. You look a little harassed, if I may say so.’
‘Maybe I’m still a distraught female with nothing to think about but the state of her nerves?’ Flora replied, not bothering to hide her frustration.
‘I see someone has ruffled your sleek feathers, my dear. Would you care to share your disquiet with a sympathetic ear?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be flippant.’ She strolled to the rail and rested her hands on the polished top, her gaze on the horizon. A line of ragged grey-white clouds floated in a pale blue sky as if warning worse was to come. However the weather had been so mild since she boarded, she forgot all the stories she had heard about storms in a North Atlantic spring.
On the saloon deck below, the Entertainments officer was organising a group of children in a boisterous game of quoits on one site and badminton the other.
‘I tried to tell the captain something, but Dr Fletcher persuaded me to tell him instead, and now I wish I hadn’t … Oh, never mind, it’s nothing really.’
‘I suspect it’s a great deal more than nothing, Miss Maguire.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘If it’s something to do with the late Mr Parnell, I might be able to help.’
Flora doubted it, but the idea was tempting. ‘May I ask you something first?’
‘Of course, what is it?’ He narrowed his eyes against a fine spray of saltwater blown into their faces by wind, the sky suddenly heavy with sagging clouds.
‘What is your interest in Parnell, Mr Hersch?’
‘Very much the same as yours, my dear. An innate sense of justice for the victim.’ He slanted a downward look into her eyes and held it. ‘Let’s say, I have some experience in these matters.’
‘I’m not sure if you are naturally enigmatic or are keeping something from me. Whichever it is, I have to tell you I find it quite annoying.’ She turned away but instead of the reprimand she expected, Mr Hersch laughed, a full blown, genuinely amused laugh that rolled through his chest.
‘My my, you are indeed angry today. I’m sorry if I have added to your chagrin, my dear. To compensate, I tell you the latest on our late friend.’ Without waiting for her response, he went on, ‘Captain Gates feels Mr Parnell’s death might not have been accidental.’
‘Oh.’ Her eagerness dissolved into disappointment. ‘I’m afraid my young charge has pre-empted you. He heard you talking to Captain Gates when he said the same thing.’
‘I see.’ He nodded slowly. ‘Have you recruited the young man as your spy?’
‘I don’t have to. He’s quite capable of rooting out things on his own. I would be interested to know why though.’
‘Simple, my dear. You were quite right about the wound to Parnell’s head, the lack of blood and the lividity. He didn’t die where he was found.’
‘How interesting.’ Pride puffed up her chest a little. ‘And what did the good doctor say to that?’
‘What could he say when the evidence was clear.’
‘Indeed. Now that you’ve been candid with me, Mr Hersch, I will tell you what I told Dr Fletcher.’ He evidently had the captain’s confidence, and he was much nicer than the doctor. ‘Yesterday,’ she began slowly, ‘someone accosted me outside the dining room.’ She related all she could remember about an encounter she would rather forget, but could not, while he remained silent, his head down and poking repeatedly at one of the rail supports with his toe.
‘Those were the exact words?’ he asked when she had finished, his frown deepening.
She nodded, grateful he had not asked if she had imagined it.
‘Did you believe him?’
‘Dr Fletcher dismissed the whole thing as my state of mind, but—’
‘No, Miss Maguire. I asked if you took this man’s threat seriously?’
She licked salt from her lips, her eyes narrowed against the wind. ‘He unsettled me enough to believe he might hurt me.
‘Have you said or done something which would make this person think you know more than you should?’
‘I don’t think so. The entire table discussed Mr Parnell’s accident over luncheon, but I doubt I said anything which would warrant a threat.’
‘Who else have you told about this person?’
‘Only Dr Fletcher. He agreed to relay the details to the captain, but he treated me like an hysterical female, so I have my doubts.’
‘Fletcher is a difficult man to read, with a somewhat inflated view of his own abilities. The captain, on the other hand, is very experienced. I’ll mention it to him myself if you wish.’
‘Thank you, I appreciate that. I didn’t know whom to tell. Or even if I should.’
‘You’re talking to me.’
‘Yes, I know, but—’ She hoped she didn’t sound self-pitying.
He cut her off with a slight gesture of his hand as a middle-aged couple passed by. When they had moved out of earshot, he said, ‘I suggest, that for the time being, it would be wise to make everyone believe you have acceded to this – person’s wishes.’
Why hadn’t she thought of that?
‘Tell me,’ Hersch went on, ‘what did you think about Miss Smith’s behaviour at breakfast?’
‘Hester?’ Flora blinked, disarmed by his unexpected change of subject. ‘Well, she doesn’t appear to like Mrs Penry-Jones much, which makes me wonder why she remains in her employ.’
‘I’ve seen worse masters and less respectful servants.’ Hersch’s sigh conveyed long experience of studying his fellow man. ‘Perhaps Miss Smith views a few sharp remarks a fair exchange for a life of material comfort?’
‘Possibly,’ Flora replied, convinced whatever advantages Hester enjoyed would never really be hers, merely an illusion of affluence.
‘Has anyone else on board engendered your mistrust?’ he asked after a moment.
‘Not really. Cynthia doesn’t like Hester Smith, and she and Max whisper together a lot, but that’s hardly surprising for honeymooners.’ Flora ran through a list of names in her head. ‘Miss Ames asks lots of questions, but that ties in with her being an author. Mr Crowe is arrogant as well as grasping, what my father would call a freeloader. He appears to relish other people’s disagreements too. Even encourages them.’
‘I’ve noticed that myself.’ He ran a thumb and forefinger down either side of his moustache, a gesture he used when thinking. ‘And what does Mr Harringt
on think of your theory about Mr Parnell?’
‘He listens, but he’s not convinced.’ Flora pushed thoughts of Bunny to the back of her mind. He confused her enough without discussing him with a third party. She anticipated telling him she had been right about Parnell with a glow of triumph, but it occurred to her Mr Hersch might demand discretion in exchange for his revelation.
‘Mr Hersch, if the captain has doubts, why hasn’t he instigated a search of Mr Parnell’s stateroom?’
‘That’s an interesting suggestion, Miss Maguire. What do you expect him to find?’ He held her gaze steadily.
Flora hesitated. His eyes were too knowing, too far seeing, and she wasn’t adept enough in deception to keep it from him for long.
‘Something among his belongings might shed some light on the reason for his death. Documents perhaps, a letter, maybe?’ She daren’t mention the photograph, it was too specific. She would end up confessing to burglary if she wasn’t careful.
‘I would ponder that theory, if I were you, Miss Maguire.’ A smile pulled at his lips without revealing his teeth. ‘You might be required to explain it by someone who will not accept dissembling.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ Flora exhaled slowly, aware her cheeks felt hot. ‘If someone did kill Mr Parnell, how will we find out who it was?’
‘That, I do not know, but if we wait, I feel sure the killer will make a mistake and reveal himself.’
‘Just that? Wait?’
‘Where could a murderer go? We’re in the middle of the Atlantic.’ He touched two fingers to his hat, inclined his head and strolled off along the deck.
Flora didn’t find this at all reassuring, although he hadn’t dismissed her croaky-voiced man as a figment of her imagination. Hersch’s mention of having ‘knowledge in these matters’ was an indication he was interested in finding out what had happened to Mr Parnell.
*
Tuesday
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