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

‘Frank? Don’t you mean Reginald?’ Fen asked, confused.

‘Oh, Reginald, of course,’ Eloise corrected herself. ‘I’ve been away from home so long, you know I’m not sure I’d even recognise him now.’ She took a sip of her coffee and sat back, and Fen noticed her brow furrow.

‘That’s not your fault,’ Fen said gently. ‘The war lasted so much longer than any of us first thought. It must have been terrible for you, hiding in a foreign land with no idea when you’d be repatriated. At least I had the familiarity of home to keep me company, even if… well. That’s a story for another day.’

‘No, tell me.’ Eloise leant forward, cupping her coffee in her hands.

‘I lost my fiancé in the war.’ Fen sighed, and James lowered his newspaper and looked at her. She smiled at him. ‘James here knew him well. It’s why we’re chums now really, isn’t it, James?’

He smiled back at her and nodded, then disappeared behind his newspaper again.

‘I am sorry.’ Eloise reached out a hand and Fen took it, awkwardly, but gratefully. She hated showing her emotions, especially when she knew so many other people had lost loved ones during the war, and some, like James himself, had lost their whole family. She had to remind herself how lucky she was to have a brother coming home, she hoped, and parents alive and well in Oxford. She squeezed Eloise’s hand and then let it go. ‘No point dwelling now,’ she said and surreptitiously, she hoped, wiped the corner of her eye with her coffee napkin.

Eloise did notice though and touched Fen’s hand again. ‘You English and your stiff upper lips.’

Fen sniffed and then had to laugh. James merely shook the paper out as he turned one of the broadsheet’s pages.

Eloise carried on. ‘“All’s fair in love and war”, isn’t that what they’d have us believe? But it’s not fair is it, not fair at all, when love is taken from us by war, or, stranger still, when war brings us love.’

‘When you put it like that…’ Fen sniffed again, thinking of not only herself but of her friends back in West Sussex, many of whom had fallen for the charms of visiting Canadian soldiers at the dances held in the local inn. ‘War brought so many young men into our lives. But it didn’t make building our lives with them any easier.’

‘Dodging bullets and crossing countries to be with each other isn’t exactly the white-picket-fence romance of dreams. You end up doing all sorts of things you never imagined you’d do for that person.’

‘You talk about it as if you’ve fallen for someone during the war too,’ Fen said, then saw Eloise blush and hoped she hadn’t put her foot in it.

‘Oh, no… I’m afraid I read far too many romances and ladies’ journals. “How to catch your GI” and “Make him think of you when far from home” sort of articles. Don’t mind me.’ She placed her empty coffee cup down. ‘Now, let’s see if that note’s done its trick with Aunt M and the captain.’

She hailed the waiter. A whispered conversation between the two ended with Eloise getting up and excusing herself from the table.

‘Seems like Aunt M will indeed work her magic, but only once I’ve gone back to the cabin with all the gruesome details. I’ll keep you posted.’

‘Thank you, Eloise.’ Fen got up to give her a kiss on the cheek goodbye. ‘And keep your eyes peeled for Spencer on your travels, though best not get too close if you do see him.’

Eloise pulled a face, then picked up her handbag and waved a goodbye to Fen.

James put his newspaper down and nodded a goodbye to her too.

‘What did you think of all that?’ Fen asked James, now they were both alone again.

‘I tried to tune it out, to be honest,’ he replied. ‘All that talk of love and women’s magazines. But it’s good that she’s on board with getting you into that cabin.’

‘Quite.’ Fen chewed on her lower lip. ‘I wonder if there’s been any sign of Spencer yet? You’d think we would have seen him, or at least heard from Lagrande if he’d been hauled in for interrogation.’

James stood up. ‘Tell you what, I’ll go and do some digging. See if I can rout him from one of the bars or smoking rooms. There aren’t enough crew on this ship to mount a full-scale search and I doubt Lagrande would want to make a big announcement over the tannoy. “Wanted for murder: Spencer McNeal” – that’s incendiary stuff.’

‘I take your point,’ Fen agreed. ‘And thank you. Meet me back here, or if I’m not here, I’ll be at Genie’s cabin, hopefully.’

‘Right you are.’ James tucked his chair under the table. ‘And Fen. You are allowed to be sad, whenever you need to be, you know.’

His kindness caught her slightly on the hop and she felt a bulge rising in her throat. ‘I know,’ she croaked, feeling terribly awkward. She shouldn’t have taken him at his word when he said he wasn’t listening to her and Eloise’s conversation.

‘But if it makes you feel better being useful,’ his voice had lost the softness of a moment ago, ‘get your pencil out…’ He paused as he saw Fen reach down into her handbag and pull out the passenger list leaflet with her pencilled-in grid on the back. ‘…And fill that grid up.’

James winked at her and left her to it, a pencil poised in her hand and the now slightly battered passenger list on her lap.

29

Fen looked at the words that she’d already written down on the grid. They were all about Albert the German, of course, and Fen wasn’t sure at all that the two murders were connected. Pseudonym, lifeboat, revenge, message and swastika… None of them resonated with how Fen felt about Genie’s death.

She started another grid a bit further down, and wrote a few words that