Aunt Julia introduced the Entwhistles to Martha Hinchcliffe.
“You knit?” Martha asked. “I’ve dabbled a bit but have only managed to make a tangled mess.”
“I’m working on a hat right now.” Beulah seemed pleased to show off her creation. Her brooch sparkled under the chandeliers as she pulled out a purple knitted section with needles jutting out at an angle.
As she was holding it up for all to admire, Johnny Stokes appeared at the table and took the seat next to Nora. Introductions were made again and everyone chatted amicably as they ate breakfast. Johnny must have been off the sauce as he was quite pleasant and not at all wobbly in a way he hadn’t been before.
“That’s a lovely hat. My grandmother knits,” Johnny said around a mouthful of biscuits and gravy. His voice was cheery, but sadness flickered in his eyes as he looked at the knitting. It was fleeting; only a trained eye like Nora’s would have noticed. He’d been close to his grandmother, but something had happened. Perhaps she’d died, Nora thought with a pang of sympathy for Johnny. Maybe that’s why he appeared so unstable at times.
“Thank you.” Beulah took a few more seconds to smile at the hat, then carefully put it in the bag. Her face turned somber. “I must say, I am tired after last night. I barely slept a wink. How about the rest of you?”
“Hard to get to sleep after that,” Nora said.
Everyone nodded except for Johnny who seemed to be studying them. “After what?”
All eyes turned to him.
“You haven’t heard about the incident?” Martha asked.
“Incident?” Johnny’s fork hovered over his plate.
“I’m afraid there was a death.” Aunt Julia studied Johnny as if expecting him to spring up and confess.
“A death? Who?” Johnny looked around the table and Nora wondered if he was genuinely unaware. There was something in his eyes that told her his interest wasn’t just that of a detached fellow passenger. “And how?”
“Delilah Dove. The singer.” Martha gestured toward the stage where a small group of musicians were playing a jazz tune.
Johnny’s fork clattered to the floor. Maybe he wasn’t as steady this morning as Nora had thought. He bent down to retrieve it and Nora couldn’t see his immediate expression. Too bad; she’d wanted to use her skills to judge if he knew more than he was letting on, but when he came back up, his face was expressionless if not a bit flushed.
“Oh no. What happened?” he asked, setting the fork aside.
“She fell from the boat.” Aunt Julia studied Johnny as she spoke. “Into the paddle wheel.”
“How horrible.” Johnny twisted his napkin in his hands.
“Ghastly,” Martha added.
“Yes, well, it wasn’t pleasant.” Aunt Julia forked up the last bit of food from her plate.
“I should say not. And it was an accident?” Johnny asked.
“Of course!” Beulah’s fingers flew to the brooch at her neck. “What else would it be?”
Aunt Julia remained silent but by the change in expression of the other diners, Nora could tell they were all considering the alternative.
“Will there be an investigation?” Johnny’s fingers tapped nervously on the table.
“I suppose there must.” Aunt Julia tilted her head and looked at the ceiling. “Why, I recall a similar situation in one of my favorite books. Murder on the Oceanic, written by Ridley Howes. He’s such a wonderful author, don’t you think?” Julia looked around the table.
“Yes.” Martha nodded.
“We love him.” Beulah turned to Harry. “Don’t we, dear?”
“He’s the best,” Nora added.
Johnny looked concerned. “What happened in the book?”
“Someone fell off an ocean liner and everyone thought it was an accident… but the detective in the book cleverly revealed a secret motive for murder.” Aunt Julia smiled proudly.
“Oh dear. Well, I hope that doesn’t happen here.” Martha looked around the room. “I wouldn’t like the idea of a killer being on board.”
“Oh.” Aunt Julia looked apologetic. “I’m sure that won’t be the case here.”
“Let’s hope not.” Johnny placed his napkin on the table. “Well, I’m quite full. Nice to meet you all. I’ll see you later.”
He shoved up from the table and lurched off toward the stairs, having hardly touched the food on his plate.
Nora glanced over at Aunt Julia but her attention was at the other end of the room where Max Lawton sat with a full plate of food in front of him. His eyes weren’t on his food but on Clifford Oxley, who had come out of the door leading backstage and was making his way over toward the side door that led to the boiler room and maintenance area.
As they watched, Max tossed his napkin down and headed after Oxley.
Aunt Julia leapt up from the table. “All this talk of death has been a bit disturbing. I must take my leave. I think a nap will set me right.” She managed a fake yawn. “Nora, will you accompany me to my room?”
“Of course.” Nora pushed up from the table and said her goodbyes then hurried off to catch up with Aunt Julia who was actually heading in the opposite direction of the stairs.
Aunt Julia was already at the door to the maintenance area, her hand on the knob, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching her.
“Aunt Julia, do you really think it’s a good idea to go in there?” Nora looked over her own shoulder. No one was paying any attention.
“Of course it is.” Aunt Julia looked at her as if she wasn’t quite following along with the program. “Didn’t you see that two of our suspects went through this door? One could be the killer.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Nora whispered. “And we could be his next victims.”
Julia waved her free hand dismissively. “You’re such a worrywart. Who would want to hurt an old lady like me?” She opened the door and stepped through.
Nora followed her into a dimly lit corridor. She could hear the swoosh of the water, the steam in the furnace and smell oil.
Aunt Julia cocked her head. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Maybe they’ve already killed each other.”
Aunt Julia looked disappointed. “I hope not. Let’s go this way.”
She started off to their right and Nora followed. The hallway was so narrow there was hardly room to walk beside each other. Aunt Julia tried a few of the doors along the way—all locked.
Mercifully, the stifling hallway didn’t go on for long. After about a hundred feet it opened up to a small deck. Max Lawton leaned against a railing, a cigar in his mouth, smoke drifting out into the air.
“Are you ladies lost?” He flicked ash into the churning water below and Nora craned her neck to look past him, wondering where Oxley was.
“Oh dear, yes we are. Isn’t this the floor our cabins are on?” A flustered Aunt Julia turned to Nora. She could win an acting award.
“No, Auntie, I told you this isn’t but you’re too stubborn to listen.” Nora smiled inwardly at her aunt’s frown at the word stubborn. If Julia was going to put her on the spot, at least she could get a dig in.