A Subtle Murder

by Blythe Baker

  “Once again, I do not feel it is appropriate to discuss such sensitive information with a passenger, miss. I do apologize, but I must be going.”

  And with that, Captain Croft made his escape. Contrary to his words, he did not seem at all sorry to go. He left rather quickly.

  I considered going back in to dinner, but the thought of sitting at the table with all the new information swirling around in my mind, all while the Worthings discussed the benefits of a good massage, seemed unbearable. I turned on my heel and headed down the corridor in the direction of a side stairwell that lead to the deck below. Suddenly, a man stepped out from a doorway to the right and blocked my path. I yelped at his sudden appearance and stepped back.

  “My apologies, Mademoiselle.”

  Achilles Prideaux stood in front of me, his dark eyes sharp and focused. He folded his hands behind his back and stood up straight. “You left suddenly this morning. We did not have a chance to speak.”

  “I was feeling unwell,” I said, repeating the lie I’d told Mrs. Worthing.

  He nodded, and it was clear he did not believe me. I hadn’t exactly made my feelings about Mr. Prideaux a secret. I did not trust him. In fact, he scared me.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m glad you seem to be feeling better.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled and stepped forward, hoping to move past him and end the conversation. Suddenly, I was feeling bad for cornering Captain Croft. Had he felt this anxious to be out of my presence?

  Achilles Prideaux let me pass, which was surprising; however, he immediately fell into step beside me. “I’m heading back to my cabin, as well. Do you mind if I follow you?”

  Right. He slept in the cabin across the hall from mine. Something about Achilles Prideaux—whether it was his swarthy appearance or his penchant for showing up everywhere I happened to be, struck me as threatening, so the thought of him sleeping a matter of feet away from me left me uneasy.

  “I suppose not,” I said, again seeking to make my feelings on the matter known.

  My displeasure did not dissuade Monsieur Prideaux. He gestured for me to enter the stairwell first, and then followed behind me. I moved down the stairs faster than normal, thinking at any moment he could shove me from behind and leave me crumpled at the bottom. However, I made it to the bottom safely.

  “I wish to offer you a warning,” he said in a quiet voice.

  “A warning? Have you tired of threats?”

  Achilles smiled, and grabbed my arm, pulling me back until I faced him. My heart thundered in my chest. I was alone with a strange man, one who had previously told me he knew I hid secrets. Why had I antagonized him?

  Sensing my nervousness, he let me go and stepped away. I pulled my arm in close to my side and pressed myself against the corridor wall, putting as much space between myself and Monsieur Prideaux as possible.

  “I never intended to threaten you. I’m sorry it appeared that way. I am simply skilled at detecting deception, and I sense you to be deceptive.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he raised a hand to silence me.

  “That is not what I have sought you out to say. I wish to warn you of the dangerous path you have chosen to walk.”

  I looked up and down the corridor, but Monsieur Achilles Prideaux smiled at me and shook his head. I took that to mean he was not speaking literally.

  “I am not here to pry or disturb you, Mademoiselle. I simply feel it is my duty to warn you of the danger you are bringing upon yourself.”

  Was he speaking of the murder investigation? Or something else…I couldn’t be certain, and I did not intend to ask.

  “Thank you, Monsieur. I do appreciate it.” Lie. “However, I am capable of taking care of myself.”

  He smiled at me, his mustache stretching wide and thin over his lips. “I thought you would say as much. Then, I shall not disturb you further. Have a lovely evening.”

  I watched his thin frame move down the hallway and duck into the cabin across from mine. I waited several seconds before following his path and unlocking the door to my own room.

  When Monsieur Achilles Prideaux spoke of danger, was he speaking of the danger he himself posed? I turned the lock, grateful for the reassuring thud of the bolt in the metal door.

  11

  I rose before the sun, moving around my cabin as quietly as possible so as not to wake Mr. or Mrs. Worthing. Though our individual rooms were separated by a sitting room, the couple were the lightest sleepers I’d ever met. If I so much as sneezed in the night, Mrs. Worthing would be knocking on my door, inquiring whether the onboard doctor should be notified.

  The corridor lights were still dim—they wouldn’t be switched to full brightness for another hour—and I kept a careful eye on Achilles Prideaux’s cabin door as I passed, expecting him to leap out at me any moment. He didn’t, of course, and I made it to the deck without seeing another soul.

  The cold morning air sliced through my clothes with ease. I’d been expecting a chill, as the Captain had told Mr. Worthing the day before that a Northern wind would move in any day now, but my knitted wool cape did little to protect me. There had been almost no need for a heavy coat in India, and the few I did have were left behind, too large to fit into a steamer trunk. I grabbed the edges of my cape and pulled it tighter around my shoulders. I had on stockings, a navy pleated skirt, white gloves, and a sheer white blouse, but suddenly I was thinking fondly of the ‘W’ sweater Mrs. Worthing had allowed me to borrow the day before.

  I began to question whether Lady Dixon and Jane really would have braved the cold to maintain their routine of a pre-breakfast stroll. Lady Dixon liked to keep a rather tight schedule, but the tip of my nose felt as though it would freeze and break off, so certainly they would have stuck to the interior of the ship. However, no sooner had the thought crossed my mind, than I saw the two women rounding the front corner of the ship and heading towards me. They were still so far away that I wouldn’t have normally been able to recognize them from such a distance, but Lady Dixon’s birdlike silhouette, along with Jane’s small frame hunched against the cold, gave them away.

  Lady Dixon wore a deep pile black coat with fur wrapped around the collar and cuffs. She paired this with a matching headwrap. Jane had a green wool coat. Her hands were shoved deep into the pockets, and her bare head was bent down in search of solace from the wind.

  I couldn’t understand Jane’s devotion to Lady Dixon. She was under Lady Dixon’s care, I knew, but that didn’t explain the fierce loyalty. Especially since the old woman treated the girl scarcely better than a servant. I’d tried to offer Jane several opportunities to, if not rebel, then at least vent about the old woman, but she’d refused me at each turn. For myself, my loyalty would wane the moment I was forced to take a pre-dawn walk during a wind storm.

  I could tell by the squishing of her forehead that Lady Dixon was watching me as we neared one another, but when her mouth turned downwards in a scowl, I knew she’d finally recognized me.

  “Good morning, Lady Dixon,” I shouted, trying to be heard over the wind.

  Jane’s head shot up. She had been so busy trying to stay warm, she hadn’t noticed me until I’d spoken. Her eyes narrowed, and I had no doubt she was wondering what on earth had compelled me to willingly take a stroll in the gale.

  Lady Dixon offered me a tight-lipped smile and then faced forward, proceeding on as if I hadn’t spoken at all. The polite thing to do, of course, would have been for her to invite me to join them. It was clear that Lady Dixon, however, despite all her self-righteousness and judgments, would do no such thing. So, it would be up to me to invite myself, something I had no problem doing.

  “Lovely morning for a walk,” I said just as a particularly harsh wind whipped across the deck, sending the flaps of my cape flying into my face. I smoothed them down, managing to keep a straight face.

  “I love a morning stroll. It’s so peaceful,” she responded, shooting a sidelong glance at me.

  “Absolut
ely. I’ve never seen the deck so empty,” I said.

  “However,” she continued, “today’s stroll is for a purpose that isn’t peaceful in the slightest. I’m still in search of my mother’s brooch, so I’m afraid we really must concentrate.”

  “I thought you said yesterday that you would give up the search? Don’t you believe it to have been stolen?” I asked.

  Jane looked up at me, unable to believe I’d just questioned Lady Dixon, and her face was redder than normal. It very well could have been from the wind, though. She had such a delicate complexion, I worried she’d become windburned.

  Lady Dixon picked up her pace, leaving the poor staring Jane in the dust—she moved quite fast for an elderly woman. I matched her speed, pulling my attention from her young niece, which caused the line between Lady Dixon’s eyebrows to deepen with annoyance.

  “I do believe it to be stolen, but I must do my due diligence, as well. If I declare it stolen without searching to the best of my ability, then I do myself and my mother a disservice. The brooch is an heirloom, and I can’t give it up so easily.”

  “That is noble of you, Lady. Then I will not disturb your search,” I said.

  Lady Dixon lifted her head a little higher, proud to have gotten rid of me, no doubt. However, I quickly disappointed her.

  “Six eyes are better than four, so I shall join you in the hunt.”

  “Jane and I take a walk every morning, and we’ve never seen you up so early.” I could hear the judgment in her voice. The first time we’d met, she’d seen me napping on the deck, and then I’d been late to the first evening’s dinner. In her mind, I would always be lazy. “What compelled you to do so today?”

  “I was having a difficult time sleeping and staying below deck can make me feel so closed in and anxious at times. Ship life really isn’t the life for me,” I said with a self-deprecating laugh.

  We walked in silence for several moments, while I tried to think of how best to begin my line of questioning. I wanted to talk with Lady Dixon about the morning she found Ruby’s dead body, but I knew if I didn’t approach the subject delicately, there was a chance she would clam up and avoid answering any of my questions.

  “Do you remember having your brooch when you found Ruby’s body? Perhaps that could help us narrow down where you could have lost it,” I said. Then I amended, “Or where it could have been taken.”

  Lady Dixon sucked in a breath between her teeth, and then clacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth several times. I couldn’t be certain that she had been seeking to keep the information a secret, but I did know she hadn’t told anyone. And considering she had been part of many conversations that centered around Ruby’s death, it seemed surprising she would keep the information to herself. I wanted to find out what she knew, but also why she hadn’t offered up this key part of the story.

  “I had the brooch when Jane and I left our cabin that morning for our walk. I did not take notice or think of it again until it was already gone,” she said, her words clipped and sharp. More than ever, Lady Dixon did not wish to speak to me, but if I let that deter me, I would never have spoken to her in the first place.

  “I’m sure finding the body was quite a shock. Perhaps you lost the brooch in the rush to check if Ruby Stratton was still alive,” I said. Framing the question around the missing brooch seemed like the surest method of both sounding concerned and uncovering more information about Ruby Stratton’s murder. The only person aside from the Captain and the murderer, that I knew of, who had been at the scene of the crime was Lady Dixon and Jane. Of course, there was always the possibility they were also the murderers, which was precisely what I hoped to find out.

  “I was not involved in that process. I am neither a doctor nor a detective. Therefore, I had no business touching a body, and I did no such thing,” Lady Dixon said, her nose turned up.

  “You mean to say, you found a fellow human lying unconscious on the deck and did nothing to assist them?” I asked, looking from the old woman to her young niece. I’d been asking questions to satisfy my investigation, but suddenly I found myself asking them from sheer curiosity. How could a person find a body and yet not consider themselves involved?

  “Ruby Stratton was beyond assistance,” Lady Dixon said coolly. I had to wonder whether there weren’t two meanings hidden behind her words.

  “You were not aware of that at the time of her discovery, though. Correct?”

  Captain Croft said Ruby Stratton’s death had been caused by strangulation—a crushed windpipe. It was a less obvious kind of death. Unlike gunfire or a knife blade, strangulation caused no obvious signs of trauma. Nothing that would cause someone to scream in horror and run for help. No blood or horrific gaping wounds. Ruby Stratton, aside from some bruising around the neck and popped vessels in her eyes, would have looked unharmed from a distance.

  And Lady Dixon, with the low opinion she already had of Mrs. Stratton, certainly would have assumed she had become too drunk to walk back to her cabin before even entertaining the possibility of murder. Most normal people, I’ve found, seek the most improbable conclusions before allowing themselves to believe a person could actually be dead. Death is a wholly unnatural phenomenon that, despite how many people do it every day, is still an utter surprise each and every time. Lady Dixon would have been surprised. At least, she should have been.

  Lady Dixon was bent forward, checking underneath a built-in bench for her missing brooch, and did not answer me right away. I did not repeat my question, however, as the tension in her shoulders told me she had heard it just fine. When she rose back to standing, she glanced over at me, and upon seeing my expectant expression, she took a deep breath and answered.

  “I do not intend to cross into a sensitive topic,” Lady Dixon said, though the slight smile on her lips said otherwise. “But you have been in the company of dead bodies before, haven’t you? Quite recently, in fact?”

  She knew I had. The first evening at dinner we had discussed the explosion—the death of the whole Beckingham family, aside from myself. Lady Dixon hoped I’d respond as I had that first night. She hoped I would excuse myself, cheeks red and eyes glassy with unshed tears. She hoped I would leave her alone and drop my line of questioning. As much as I wanted to, even as my throat closed with the memory of the stench and my eyes watered at the thought of the smoke, I would not flee. I would not run away from the horrors of my past anymore. I would face them down, just as Lady Dixon would have to face down her own.

  “You are correct, my Lady,” I said, my voice as calm and even as I could manage.

  “Then surely, you, more than anyone, can understand the difference between a live body and a dead one,” Lady Dixon said, her face pulled taut.

  “Forgive me, Lady, but in the instance you are referring to, death was the expected outcome. I did not have to wonder whether those around me were dead or alive because it was obvious that everyone in the vehicle, myself included, should have been dead. Seeing a dead body on a morning stroll, however, seems to warrant a different response.”

  I couldn’t help myself, I was losing my cool. Lady Dixon had struck me almost immediately as a hard woman, but it wasn’t until that moment that I’d considered her a cruel one. She spoke easily of something I wouldn’t even be able to think on for more than a few minutes at a time without becoming emotional. How could I be expected to remain neutral in the face of such heartlessness?

  “This is an awfully dark topic for so early in the morning,” Lady Dixon responded. “It’s not suitable for young Jane.”

  Jane’s face flushed, and I wondered whether it was out of embarrassment or from the chill. Lady Dixon expected the young girl to act like a woman, yet now she wanted to use her youthfulness to avoid my inquiries.

  “Yes, I’m so sorry, Jane,” I said, slowing down to let Lady Dixon pass by so Jane and I could walk together. “It must have been difficult to find Ruby Stratton in that state.”

  She looked up at me as though no one had ev
er spoken directly to her, as if she didn’t know what to do with the attention.

  “Yes, it was a horrible sight to—”

  “Jane stood behind me. She hardly saw a thing,” Lady Dixon said harshly, turning around, her hawk-like eyes focused on the young girl.

  Jane closed her mouth tightly, looking up at me for only a moment before casting her gaze back to the ground.

  “Besides,” Lady Dixon continued, “we did not learn that the deceased was Ruby Stratton until hours later, at the same time as the rest of the ship.”

  “How is that possible?” I asked.

  I had joined the two women at the front of the ship, but we were now near the stern. If Captain Croft’s information was to be believed, Lady Dixon and Jane would make one full loop of the ship before moving to the dining room for breakfast. I could still talk with Lady Dixon over breakfast, of course, but it would be much easier for her to avoid me with the presence of the other passengers.

  Lady Dixon sighed. “Much as it is now, the sun had barely risen. The deck was cast in harsh light and shadows, and Ruby Stratton’s body had been stuffed into an area of shadow beneath some wicker deck furniture. It was lucky I noticed her at all. My vision has always been sharp and has not diminished a bit with age, so I saw her well before Jane did, distracted as she was by our run-in with Dr. Rushforth.”

  “You saw Dr. Rushforth that morning?” I asked.

  Lady Dixon continued without pause. “I was instructing Jane that etiquette dictated she should make eye contact with those she is in conversation with, and that she ought not to hide behind me. As I was speaking, I looked over and saw a bare foot sticking out from beneath the chair.”

  Jane, clearly not heeding the advice the old woman had offered her that morning, was shrinking behind Lady Dixon, looking as though she wished she could seep into the wooden floor. I looked to her, hoping she would answer my question.