The Moonlit Murders: A historical mystery page-turner (A Fen Churche Mystery Book 3) by Fliss Chester (best ereader for pc .txt) 📗

held court over the table, telling them all about her late husband. ‘A true American at heart, of course, but his role in the embassy meant that we lived the most wonderful life in Paris in the 1930s. As much as I miss him, and I do, whatever young Eloise here says about dicky hearts and fortunes,’ she’d wagged her finger at her niece, ‘I am glad that he died before he could see his beloved Paris, France herself even, occupied by those dastardly Nazis. I swear, if I were to come across one now, I just don’t know what I would do.’

She simmered on like this as Bisset, and the others round the table, save for Fen, who was shielding her secret knowledge about cabin thirteen, agreed with her. She continued her story as the fish course of red mullet arrived. ‘Of course, with William dead, I could have returned to New York in thirty-eight, but then my sister, Connie, decided that Eloise should be finished with me in Paris, you know the sort of thing. There were still debutant balls in thirty-eight, there was still a season.’

‘I feel like I’ve done a hundred seasons now,’ Eloise rolled her eyes. ‘All in one house.’

‘We were lucky, dear girl. If it hadn’t been for William’s old friends in the embassy, we would have been under house arrest in that apartment for years. House arrest being the best possible scenario.’ Mrs Archer gave those around the table a knowing look and Fen for one knew exactly what she meant. She knew Paris had been home to holding camps, and for many Americans, those prison-like places were the last they had seen of the France they once loved before they’d been shipped off to the more sinister, and often more fatal, work camps in the east.

‘So we packed our luggage and were gone by the time the Panzers rolled down those boulevards, those beautiful avenues.’ Mrs Archer touched her neck again and then raised her hand to her tiara. ‘If we had been caught fleeing, well, I suppose I could have tried to buy our way out, but the Nazis were brutes then. Even though America was neutral at that point, I think Eloise and I would have been taken places we only fear in our darkest dreams now.’

‘I am grateful that we fled the city, Aunt,’ Eloise said, the humour of her last interjection gone.

‘And you saved all your jewels, you took them all?’ Genie asked, seemingly impervious to the snobbery that Mrs Archer usually treated her to.

This time was no different. She peered across the table at the young actress and replied nastily, ‘I can see where your priorities in life lie… We were lucky to escape with our lives, let alone our wealth. Only sensible planning and a fair warning meant we could pack all of our belongings. I dread to think how many prostitutes and showgirls were gifted presents by their Nazi boyfriends, stolen from their rightful owners during that occupation.’

‘Aunt…’ Eloise’s tone was that of caution.

Luckily, Bisset, charm of all charm, diverted the conversation by asking Genie about her work in the theatre and entertaining the troops.

‘Of course there’s so little we women could do to help our brave boys, so when the theatre troupe I was part of joined up, I joined up too. And I know it’s not the done thing to say this out loud, and I do apologise, but war helped me see places I never thought I’d see. Cairo, Venice, Tunis, Milan… which is where dear Spencer and I met.’

Spencer grinned at this, clearly happy to be central to Genie’s story, as he had appeared to be a tad put out when she had leaned in so close to talk to Bisset earlier.

His bad mood returned, however, when Genie added: ‘Of course, you officers all look so handsome with your smart uniforms.’ She ran her finger over the epaulette on Bisset’s shoulder.

‘Sweetheart,’ Spencer said, without the usual affection in his voice that that word implied. ‘Why not tell the table about our plan instead?’ He glared at the first officer as he said it.

Unfazed, Genie slowly pulled her hand off Bisset’s shoulder. ‘Oh gee, yes it’ll be swell. Spencer and I thought we could entertain you all. Though I hear the auditorium is closed. Unless…’ she looked up into the handsome French officer’s dark eyes with her own fluttering lashes. ‘Unless someone could open it up for us.’

Bisset, who being French seemed totally at ease with the flirtation of a beautiful woman, and oblivious to the anger of her partner, found her hand and pulled it to his lips. ‘Bien sûr, of course, mademoiselle. The French Line will do anything for such a jewel as you.’

‘I’ll thank you to unhand the broad,’ Spencer said, teeth clenched, taking Genie’s hand away from the suave Frenchman and clasping it in his.

‘Spencer,’ Genie whispered. ‘Don’t be so—’

‘Don’t be so what, cookie?’ He took a deep breath and all at once his countenance changed, and he appeared calm again. He kissed her hand and let it go, much to everyone around the table’s relief.

Mrs Archer’s distaste at the whole scene was obvious by the curl of her lip and Fen did her very best to bring the conversation back to lighter matters so that all was well again by the time the lamb chops with vibrantly green mint sauce and tender new potatoes arrived.

Fen could see that Genie looked downhearted, though, and leaned across the table to talk to her. ‘A show in the auditorium sounds smashing.’

‘Oh yes,’ Genie’s eyes brightened again. ‘I’m practising for Broadway, it’ll be a blast!’

Fen noticed that Spencer, now he had Genie’s hand resting on his knee and her talking about showbusiness, was all charm and smoothness again.

By pudding, which tonight was Queen of Puddings, resplendent with whipped meringue and tart raspberry jam atop a breadcrumb sponge base, Eloise had joined in Fen and Genie’s conversation and the three of them had decided