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

‘Fine,’ Fen hadn’t any better idea of where to start. ‘You go first, Genie.’

‘Well…’ Genie looked at her fiancé, who had turned a couple of shades redder. And then she giggled, unable to get any other words out, but the inference was clear, Genie and Spencer would pretty much alibi each other out.

‘That was after we’d all been together, of course,’ Eloise reminded them. ‘Us three ladies, I mean. Oh Genie, that reminds me, I have your red boa in my cabin, I’ll fetch it for you tomorrow morning—’

‘No hurry at all, Ellie, I really enjoyed myself.’

Fen had to admit that it had been fun, playing dress-up in Genie’s room, just the three of them. But with no time of death for Albert yet, this was all pretty pointless. All she knew was that he was alive before they got to Southampton, and now, two nights after leaving Britain, he was dead. She mentioned this to the others and was met with a thoughtful silence.

‘You mean he could have been killed days ago?’ Genie whispered.

‘Yes, it’s possible.’ Fen shrugged.

‘No, it was last night,’ Eloise said decidedly, as if she was privy to information that no one else knew. Enquiring eyes around her begged her to carry on. ‘I didn’t mention this before, as I didn’t think it terribly relevant, but I think I saw him last night. The German.’

‘Really?’ Fen asked, interested in this development. ‘When was this?’

‘I couldn’t sleep after I got back to the cabin. I think the after-dinner coffee was tanked with fuel, if you know what I mean. At midnight I gave up trying and wandered onto the deck. Bracing, to say the least, and it seemed to do the job as I returned to my cabin and slept through. But…’ She bit her lower lip, scraping some of her plum-coloured lipstick off it. She must have felt it happen, so she rubbed her lips together before continuing. ‘I suppose he could have been the thief…’

‘Of your aunt’s jewels?’ Fen couldn’t get that thought to balance in her head with the way Albert had been killed. ‘And how did you know the man you saw was the German?’

‘Well, it had to be him. In the sense that I didn’t recognise him. It was a man, and I passed him on the stairs. I’d walked up to the lifeboat deck to see if there was a better shot I could take of the moon from up there. Insomnia is a gift for the creative, you see, and I do love photography.’

She paused for a moment. ‘I snapped a couple of frames and then got too cold, so I descended to the cabin deck. That’s when I passed him. I assumed he was another of the passengers, but then we’re all getting to know each other a little now, aren’t we?’ She looked around at the others and her eyes lingered on Johnstone. ‘Take Frank here, for example, he only boarded at Southampton, but I’d definitely recognise him in the dark now.’

Johnstone gave an awkward cough at Eloise’s unintended innuendo. She didn’t seem fazed. ‘Anyway, the more I thought about it today, the more I realised that the man I saw must have been the German as I hadn’t seen him before, and I haven’t seen him on deck or in the dining room since.’

‘Did you see anyone else on your moonlit flit?’ James asked, leaning in.

Eloise sipped her sherry. ‘No.’ She paused. ‘Unless you count the watchman. I saw someone in French Line uniform up on the lifeboat deck, but I couldn’t tell you who it was.’

‘Were the jewels there when you got back?’ Fen couldn’t help but try and solve two crimes with one witness statement.

‘I don’t know. The door that links Aunt Mariella’s cabin to mine was unlocked, but closed, and I could hear her snoring. Oh, it’s no use. It’s my fault I left my room to go wandering. The thief must have broken in then and made his way out with it all before I got back.’

‘You mustn’t blame yourself, Eloise,’ Frank said calmly, and Fen noticed how his hand lingered on her arm as a gesture of support. Then he addressed the others round the table, ‘At least we know it couldn’t have been me, eh, Jim? With you there by my side until dawn!’

‘Yes, from midnight onwards, I’d say,’ James agreed. ‘Spencer, you were back in the cabin with Genie by then, I think?’

‘Midnight?’ Genie questioned. ‘You didn’t get back to our cabin until one.’

‘Really?’ Spencer looked confused, his eyes searching the room as if looking to pick an appropriate answer from the ceiling. ‘Midnight, one, it’s all the same, isn’t it?’

‘Not when there’s a murderer on the loose,’ whispered Eloise mischievously.

Fen could feel the atmosphere in the group change, and although she was sure Eloise had meant it as nothing more than a joke, it had backfired and a nervous tension settled among the six of them.

‘Where were you then, Spencer?’ Genie asked again, more determinedly this time. ‘I want to know.’

‘Nowhere, it’s nothing. The smoking room, I think. Hell, I don’t know, I was drunk. Who are you, my mother?’ His voice had lost the smooth edge it usually had and his matinee gloss had definitely lost its shine. Fen remembered Genie mentioning the superficialness of his charm when they spoke on the deck, and she could well believe it now as Spencer delivered another spiteful retort. ‘And I could ask you the same question, Jean. If Eloise and Fenella left you at eleven, that gives you two whole hours when you could have done anything.’

‘Spencer!’ Genie looked genuinely hurt. She got up and fluffed her boa around her neck. ‘Goodnight all.’ She swept her boa up, the end of which had dipped into Spencer’s Scotch, and then painted his face with the liquor, which made Eloise and Frank laugh. James, Fen could see, was watching it all with a much