“Oh no! It’s Delilah!” A woman with a short blonde bob and a pale-green dress shrieked.
Norah recognized the woman, who had been at the railing when they had arrived, as one of the backup singers. It did not escape her notice that the woman was not in her nightclothes like the rest of them.
A stern-looking Sven Nordby joined them, with Lily Sumner right behind him. Lily went straight to the other singer and hugged her. They stood side by side and Lily put her arm around her, her jet bracelet and black beaded shawl glittering in the moonlight. It was more a measure of comfort than to ward off any chill since it was quite warm out.
The boat drifted slowly, a cool breeze ruffled Nora’s hair, carrying with it the smell of the river.
Sven scowled at the crowd. “What has happened?”
“Someone fell overboard!” Percival Montford huffed, reaching in his pocket and coming up empty. Apparently he still hadn’t found his pocket watch. “I’m a doctor, let me examine her.”
“Is she… is she…?” Vera Hinchcliffe stood on the tiptoes of the fluffy pink ostrich-feather slippers that matched her robe to see the two men haul Delilah’s body up from the paddle and over the railing. They placed her flat on the deck so Dr. Montford could do his examination. Norah had a pretty good idea that no amount of examining was going to help Delilah, judging by the gash on the side of her head.
Sven didn’t look at all sympathetic as Percival bent over the body. Aunt Julia pushed forward for a better look. Dead bodies didn’t faze her; on the contrary, they intrigued her. She’d seen enough of them.
Julia stepped over to the railing. Crouching down with a dexterity that belied her age, she reached out onto the safety platform. What was she after? Nora caught her eye but Julia shook her head subtly so Nora simply shrugged and turned her attention back to the crowd around Delilah.
Max Lawton stood staring down at the body, his fists clenched at his sides. Nora wondered if her earlier suspicion about them being romantically linked was true. He certainly wasn’t falling to his knees in despair, but his expression of disbelief and disappointment indicated that he’d lost something very important to him.
Dr. Montford stood from his inspection with great effort. “She’s gone.”
The crowd gasped.
Vera shrieked and clung to Beau.
Sven Nordby started back toward the pilot house, but Aunt Julia, who had returned to stand beside Nora, interrupted him. “Mr. Nordby, did you see anything? You have a bird’s-eye view from the pilot house.”
Sven’s perpetual scowl deepened. “No, ma’am. I’m piloting with eyes forward. The river might look nice and calm to a layman like you, but there are dangerous rocks and one must be alert at all times. And even if I were not, I could not have seen anything.”
Aunt Julia looked surprised at that statement. “Oh, and why is that?”
“The smokestack hides the view.” Sven turned and marched back toward the pilot house, drawing their attention to the wide smokestack which did, indeed, hide the sight of the paddle from the pilot house.
“Huh, I suppose he has a point.” Aunt Julia tapped her fingers on her lips, her face screwed up in thought.
Nora was about to ask her what she’d been reaching for on the safety platform when a new group of people came rushing up. Nora recognized them as members of the band. Two saxophone players, a drummer and Clifford Oxley. They all had nightclothes on, Oxley in a black silk robe and the others in much less-expensive garb.
“What is going on? I heard that—” Oxley’s gaze fell on the body, cutting off his words. He stumbled forward and fell to the ground next to it. “Delilah? No!”
He looked at the crowd, his expression helpless, then, shaking his head, looked back at the body. He picked up her lifeless misshapen hand, caressed it and then placed it back down on the deck before burying his face in his hands and starting to cry.
Now there was the reaction of a lover! Norah glanced at Max Lawton. He was looking down at Oxley with his gaze narrowed, his expression suspicious. Not really the reaction of a rival lover, but still interesting.
“What is the commotion?” Giles Hendricks came up behind them, his face falling as he took in the scene. “Oh, dear me. No. Not an accident on the maiden voyage. This is not good. Not good at all.”
Aunt Julia leaned over and whispered to him. “Sorry, Giles, it might be worse than you think. I’m not quite sure this actually was an accident.”
Giles managed to herd the onlookers to their cabins before Aunt Julia could spill her guts to too many of them. The body was removed to the lower deck and Giles ushered Julia and Nora to the smaller lounge on the Texas deck.
Nora pulled her silk robe tighter over her wide-legged oriental-style pajamas. She was glad she didn’t prefer those sheer nightgowns that were all the rage. It would have been awkward to stand around with the other passengers wearing something like that.
Giles wrung his hands together nervously. “Now, Julia… why in the world would you think this wasn’t an accident?”
“Well, as you yourself pointed out on our tour earlier today, there is a safety railing and a safety platform beyond that. It would be almost impossible to fall into the paddle wheel accidentally.”
Giles pursed his lips. “Yes, but the railing is a bit short and if one were unsteady and it was dark, perhaps it’s not beyond reason.”
“She could have jumped.” Nora really didn’t think that was the case. Based on the short time she’d been able to observe Delilah it didn’t appear as if she suffered from suicidal thoughts. She was outgoing, enjoyed performing and loved being the center of attention. Though that last part might hide some feelings of inadequacy; Nora hadn’t spent enough time with her to say for sure.
Aunt Julia shook her head. “I don’t think so. That scream was a scream of sheer terror. If one were to jump on purpose there would likely be no scream at all.”
“I don’t think we should go spreading rumors of murder around the boat. There’s no sense in causing terror in the other passengers and… well…” Giles lowered his voice and looked down at the carpet. “I wouldn’t want it to get into the papers. It could ruin everything for me. Besides, there’s no proof, and as far as I’m concerned it could have been a terrible accident. Though I suppose that isn’t going to look so great either. Maybe murder would be better…”
“I’m quite certain it wasn’t an accident.”
“But how can you be so sure?” Giles asked.
Aunt Julia reached into her pocket and pulled out a small red item, which she held up to the light. “I found this on the safety deck wedged between the edge trim. Do you know what it is?”
Giles shook his head.
“A fingernail. Bright red just like Delilah’s. In fact, she’s missing the middle nail on her right hand. I looked. And do you know how a fingernail could get wedged under there?”
“She grabbed it when she fell?” It was more of a hopeful question than a statement.
“Almost. She grabbed on when she was pushed. It’s the only explanation.” Aunt Julia started pacing the lounge dramatically. “I suppose the killer purposely pushed her over the railing. Then, when the safety deck broke her fall, they pushed again. Delilah went over the edge—the deck isn’t very wide. But she was able to grab on. I can picture her trying to gain purchase, her legs dangling precariously above the wheel.”