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

men were playing shuffleboard, their cue-sticks and pucks hitting against each other in a mock battle, interspersed with ‘hey’, ‘take that’, ‘gerroff’, and that sort of thing.

‘I didn’t ask Spencer if he’d stolen the jewels,’ Fen mused. ‘He barely seemed able to focus on me, let alone string a sentence together.’

‘Or string a set of pearls. You should watch out if he’s let off, he might be straight round for that lovely necklace of yours and your brooch.’

Fen frowned. ‘The captain didn’t mention the jewels as part of the confession. Yet, confess he has.’ She paused. ‘I didn’t get the feeling from him that he was guilty of anything except being a bit of a jealous type, though.’

‘Case closed, if you ask me,’ Eloise said, and then yelled out, ‘Oh spot on!’ to encourage Frank.

‘Although it would be good if we could find your aunt’s jewels,’ Fen said. ‘If Spencer is responsible for killing Genie because he wanted more than his share of the spoils, he would know where they are. I should see if I can get back down to the brig to ask him.’

This time, Eloise turned to Fen and put her hand on her arm. ‘Please don’t trouble yourself. I’d rather you stayed up here and had fun with us than having to go all the way back to that ghastly part of the boat. I’d so much prefer we spent the next couple of days having fun and making some good memories. Besides, Aunt M can file an insurance claim.’ She smiled. ‘It’s better than I could have hoped for a few hours ago, to have these earrings back. My father bought them for me before I left for France and I had hoped to wear them on my wedding day. And now I can, thanks to clever you. And once I’m Mrs Vandervinter, well, Reginald can buy me all sort of new jewels, modern things. It’ll be swell. Now, come on, we can’t let the men have all the fun, play another round with me.’

Eloise led Fen over to where James and Frank were shaking hands and they took over the board for a while, shooting their discs into the scoring areas. Fen had to admit that once she’d set aside thoughts of poor Genie and her baby, and even Albert, she did have quite a jolly time playing the addictive game on deck.

Gradually it became colder and the fog, which had almost been defeated by the afternoon sun, garnered strength again and instead of bathing the deck in a gently glowing light, it covered the whole of the recreation area in a damp blanket. Real damp blankets were thrown off steamer chairs and by mid-afternoon the games were over and Fen and the other passengers were forced back inside, damp hair stuck to clammy cheeks and chills creeping in through thick jumpers.

Fen closed her cabin door behind her and sat down on her bed. She leaned across and pulled the curtains to, as although the ship was gradually heading further west, with each passing moment the afternoon was getting darker. Plans had been made to reconvene in the saloon bar with Mrs Archer and Eloise, and Frank too, and Fen thought about how much Genie would be missed; she had been such a wonderful bright spirit and so full of life.

Pulling off her now damp jumper, Fen draped it over the wicker stool. The cabin was warm, despite one of its walls being exposed to the exterior of the ship, and she flicked her shoes off and curled up on her bed. The passenger list was looking more and more tatty, but she smoothed it out on her knee and had a look at the grids forming on it. She added a few more words so they looked like this:

Fen wasn’t sure why she wrote PARALLELS, but there was something that was bugging her about the amount of similarities she’d uncovered today. Aside from those between Eloise and Genie, there was the matter of how similar James’s arranged marriage was to that of Eloise’s. And then there was Spencer talking about Genie in the costume box, something to do with the epaulette, which Dodman had said could have come from that dressing-up basket in the auditorium.

She looked back at the small grid she’d started about Albert and realised that his death was being quite forgotten about, and despite his nationality, Fen couldn’t accept that that was the right thing to do.

Sighing, she got up off her bed and started to undress, aware that she was expected for cocktails in the saloon before too long.

She chose the warmest of her dresses and once again paired it with the pearls and cameo brooch, this time letting the string of pearls hang loose in a long low swoop. As she looked in the mirror above the basin, she rested her hand across her throat. She couldn’t have borne wearing the pearls in a choker-style tonight.

Poor Genie, she thought. Strangled only a dozen or so hours earlier, and here Fen was getting ready to enjoy herself again. Enjoy myself and solve two murders, she mused, adding out loud, ‘Regardless of what Lagrande has asked me to do.’

34

‘So where have we got to on Kowalczyk? I think I’ve pronounced it correctly, have I?’ Fen asked James as they sat in the saloon bar together going over possible suspects for Albert’s murder.

‘Yes, spot on. And dead end, I’m afraid, if you’ll excuse the expression,’ James answered her as he accepted a tumbler of whisky from the waiter.

Fen let him place her customary sherry in front of her and had to remind herself that she really shouldn’t get used to so much drinking. She took a sip anyway and let James continue.

‘He’s been in the sanatorium almost since I met him. Seasickness or some such. One of the best alibis on the ship. And, to boot, says Dr Bartlett was with him that night between the hours