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

With each one, they found that they could unhook a few ties and then poke their heads under the heavy canvas with enough room for Fen to squeeze an arm in, too, and flash her torch around. Given the boats’ size, and only the glimmering beam of the torch to help them see, it was no mean feat checking all of them, and Fen only hoped that in the torchlight a glint would announce the presence of the tiara and other jewels.

So far, four boats in, and nothing. As Fen and Genie rolled back the canvas on the next boat, they were discussing the likelihood of finding any jewels up here at all.

‘If it had been me stealing them,’ Genie mused, ‘I would have found somewhere much cosier to hide them.’

‘That’s not a bad point,’ Fen had to agree and smiled at her, but it was lost in the darkness of the void of the covered boat.

Fen flicked on the torch beam and the sight that greeted the two women was like nothing either of them had seen before.

Genie screamed and in trying to pull her head out of the lifeboat got her hair tangled in the ropes. She flapped about freeing herself and, as she did so, Fen found herself stock-still, transfixed by what she saw in front of her.

Gradually she pulled herself back into the daylight and looked at Genie, her hair wet and wild now and her make-up staining dark rivulets down her face. She looked as if she was about to pass out, or worse, and Fen reached forward and took her arm.

‘I’m not sure what we both just saw in there,’ Genie whimpered, shivering now as they held onto each other for support. ‘But it wasn’t a bloody tiara.’

22

‘I’ll raise the alarm,’ Fen reassured her, trying to stay calm despite the racing of her heart. ‘But first let’s get into the dry.’ She wrapped a protective arm about Genie, who was mumbling something about ‘the places you can’t wear a boa are not the right kinda places’ and ushered her into the stairwell that spanned the storeys of the upper decks. Genie had been right though, what they’d seen was definitely not a stash of jewels… it was a body.

She had recognised who it was immediately. Knowing who it was – that was one thing, but examining her conscience as to how she felt about his death – his murder – was quite another, for lying there in the bottom of the lifeboat was the German man from cabin thirteen.

If she hadn’t been sure it was him from his face, which had stared lifelessly back at her as her torch beam had scouted the body, Fen would have made the assumption from the fact that the body was wrapped in a giant flag – the red of the background, the white of the inner circle and the jagged black angles of the swastika evident for all to see. And if she hadn’t been sure it was murder, then the massive knife sticking out of his chest would have been all the proof she needed.

Fen didn’t have to wait long, having raised the alarm, for crew and passengers alike to come running. She and Genie were still up on the very top deck, sheltering in the stairwell away from the wind and rain, when the captain and first officer came dashing up the stairs. James wasn’t far behind and soon after him came more crew members from the ship’s bridge, including Dodman, who’d shown Fen to her cabin, and some of the army officers who had been roped in to find the missing tiara.

‘Who is it?’ Captain Lagrande tried to hide the fact that he was panting slightly but stood there with one hand on his hip and the other resting against the metal of the stairwell wall.

‘I don’t know his name…’ Fen answered, ‘but I do know his cabin number.’

‘And?’ Bisset took over the questioning from the captain.

‘And… it’s the German passenger from cabin thirteen.’

There were a few gasps and ‘What’s all this then? Jerry on board?’

The captain shushed them all and issued orders for those hanging around to find a stretcher and alert Dr Bartlett that the morgue would need to be opened. He did all of this with a calm efficiency, yet Fen thought this belied the strain that was starting to show on his face, a face that now had the expression of someone who knew he would be met with a mountainous pile of red tape and paperwork. He shook his head. ‘As if the Nazis haven’t caused enough problems for us all.’

‘We don’t know he was a Nazi.’ Fen couldn’t help but say something, even if her better judgement had told her to stay quiet. ‘He could have been a normal citizen, an innocent man like you, or—’

‘Innocent?’ Lagrande raised an eyebrow at her and pointed to where the body was now being lifted from the lifeboat by members of the crew. He then shook his head, as if the answer to Fen’s query was as plain as day. ‘He’s wrapped in his own despicable flag.’

Fen couldn’t argue with the last point. If the man in cabin thirteen had been a Nazi… then perhaps he had deserved this fate?

She watched as the body was placed on the quickly found stretcher. Bisset had taken charge, though he seemed much more sombre than she’d ever seen him, his eyes fixed on the bloodied swastika as the body was secured. Fen was mulling over what he’d said regarding Le Havre, when Dodman sidled up next to her and asked if she’d like to be seen back to her cabin. Fen smiled at him. ‘Thank you, but no, I’m all right. Could you take Miss… well, Genie, back to her cabin though? I fear it’s all been a bit of a shock for her.’

Dodman did as she asked and helped