“Hands off the girl!” came a booming voice from the murky waters below.
Her reaction was incredibly swift, or maybe his was just a tad too reluctant. In any case, the result would have been the same. She spun her head in the direction of the voice, causing him to miss his intended target and end up with a mouthful of hair instead.
28
A Room Full of Smoke
* * *
“Here comes the cavalry.” O’Connell muttered bitterly as he released Anna from his grasp. “Oy,” he shouted down to the waters, “You boys couldn’t have had more excellent timing.”
A boat appeared like a spirit manifesting itself out of thin air, a small phantom ship cutting silently through the fog.
“You all right miss?” came the voice again.
The unknown vessel, becoming clearer by the second, now gave hint of its passengers on board. Several shadows shifted eerily about on the craft, but the one attached to the voice commanded the most attention. Peering through the mist, Anna and Shamus were able to make out the smoky silhouette of a tall, solidly built man in a long overcoat pushed back by hands resting on hips standing regally in the prow of a Coast Guard speeder.
“Yes officer. I’m fine!” Anna replied with a good humored laugh. “We were just . . . talking.”
“Inspector, if you please.”
“What’s with the sneak attack?” O’Connell asked, noticing the motors on the craft had been cut, therefore not alerting them to its stealthy advance in the fog.
“We’ve come to see about the body, or lack thereof. Thought we’d have a look around the yacht first before we came aboard.”
The speedboat pulled alongside the Allura, and with the help of O’Connell, the inspector along with two others, both presumably of the SFPD going by the uniform on the one on the right, climbed aboard.
“Inspector Horace. These are Lieutenant Pike and Officer Grist.”
“Shamus O’Connell sir, and this is Miss Anna Kelly.” Horace acknowledged Anna with a polite nod and tip of the hat.
“Let me fetch Mr. Daniels sir. He owns the Allura, and can show you what you want to see.”
“I know who he is. And yes, I would like to speak to him, but I would also like to see everyone else. Is there a place where everybody can be gathered together?”
“I believe most are in the Cigar Room already.”
“The crew too?”
“No, I believe most of the crew are about their business.”
Horace grimaced. Probably ‘about their business’ dumping evidence. Damned idiots. “I would like to see everyone on board, passengers and crew. Please make sure all are accounted for and in the cigar room. Is there enough room in there for everyone?”
“The dining saloon is right next door. Between the two, there should be adequate space.” O’Connell walked away to find Daniels and the rest of those on board, leaving Anna at the mercy of Inspector Horace. But being a naturally benevolent man, he refrained from any kind of malice and offered his arm instead, allowing her to lead him in the direction of the cigar room.
“Miss Anna . . . what did you say your last name was again?”
“Kelly, sir”
A curious spark illuminated his right eye, but walking on his left, she missed it. “Dispense with the sir, please. Are you a guest here on the Allura?”
“Not exactly. I am filling in for Mr. Beltran’s secretary who was taken ill.”
“I see. And how long have you been aboard?”
“Two days.”
The distance to the cigar room door being a short one, there was no time for further questioning. Inspector Horace and Anna stepped through the door into the room. As Anna entered, she was struck with an odd change in the room’s design. At first she couldn’t put her finger on what was different. Then, looking towards the back of the room, she realized that the bar had miraculously disappeared, now folded up and concealed by panels of mahogany. Inventive. Forster was sitting comfortably in a small leather chair right in front of where it should have been, hat pulled down over his eyes and legs stretched out in front of him, almost as if he were napping.
With Anna’s arm still in his, Inspector Horace crossed the threshold with an air of subtle power, announcing his presence with a light cough. Anna watched Forster as he lifted his eyes to see the newcomers. As soon as he saw the inspector, he sank further into the chair drawing his hat down a little further over his eyes. Horace’s eyes, sharp as they are, were drawn to the sudden movement in that direction. Anna felt the arm under her hand stiffen. She looked to the face of its owner and then to the object of his gaze, the man sitting in the corner. It was but a fleeting look, but Anna had caught it. Horace looked down, politely coughed again before surveying the rest of the room.
Pike and Grist followed him into the room and stood in front of the door. “I’d like you two to remain here. No one is to exit for any purpose. I’ll interview one person at a time in another room,” then looking with marked significance, he pointed to Forster, “starting with him.” Aside to Grist, “Make sure you keep your ears open, as well as your eyes.”
“Yes sir.”
Horace led Anna to a chair, offering her the empty seat next to O’Connell, then walked directly over to Forster. “What’s your name son?”
“Jack Finnegan, sir.” Forster replied tight-lipped, hat still covering his eyes.
“Yeah, I’ll bet it is. Let’s go.”
O’Connell leaned close to Anna’s ear. “Uh-oh, looks like our bartender’s been made.”
“You think he’s wanted for something?” she whispered back.
“Out of town bartenders often get picked up if their pictures have been circulated, especially if they’re involved with more than just mixing, and most usually are. If he left Chicago in a hurry there may be a good reason.”
Forster stood up slowly, looked Inspector Horace in the eye, and headed toward the starboard door.
“No, I don’t think so. We’ll just head down the stairs to a more secure room. I’d like to ask you a few questions.” Horace smiled wryly behind his moustache and indicated the stairway on the opposite side of the room leading to the stateroom level and below. Forster scowled his displeasure and began heading in the direction indicated. Horace followed him down the stairs. In the awkward stillness, a door could be heard opening and closing. Anna wondered if it was the one that belonged to the office.
“You don’t think he killed her,” whispered Anna.
“Nah,” responded O’Connell. “He could probably take a man down if he needed to, but what has he got to do with Eva? No motive. I suspect he’ll spend a few nights in prison for bootlegging and be released. Hopefully in time to come back on board.”
“Do you think he’ll tell them what you’ve got going on?”
“No. People like Finn are pretty loyal to the trade. If it’s true he was working in the speakeasies of Chicago, ratting would be an unforgivable sin. Anyway, I don’t peg him for the violent type.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure,” murmured Anna, remembering the conversation she overheard in the office.
“True. He can play a little dirty. That trick with the Bloody Mary was below the belt. But it takes more than that to kill someone.”
“What trick?”
Humor touched O’Connell’s features but he refrained from explaining. “Besides, I still don’t see that he could’ve have had anything against Eva. They didn’t even know each other.”
Anna thought of her chance meeting with Forster on the train. No one knew that they had met each other before now. “But can you be sure? I mean, the world is a lot smaller these days. Maybe Eva met him on a trip to Chicago or something.”
“Eva go to Chicago? I doubt it. She likes the glitz and glam of California high society way too much. Chicago would have been beneath her. It’s unfortunate. She didn’t know what she was missing.”
Anna was beginning to wonder if O’Connell had once had a fling with Eva himself. He suddenl
y seemed awfully knowledgeable of what Eva did and didn’t like. Suddenly stung by a hint of jealousy, she turned her head to look at him more directly. No, he’s too smart for that. “So if Finn didn’t do it . . . who did? Moreau?”
“What? No. He could only be driven to murder if someone criticized his etouffee. And Eva would have been wise enough to avoid that. I’ll admit that looked like a butcher knife she had in her chest, but I can’t believe it was Moreau. All my money is on Beltran.”
Anna looked over at Beltran. His eyes were still on the floor. His elbows rested on his knees. Every once in a while his body heaved with breath, but other than that he was stone.
Anna wasn’t sure she was convinced. She looked around the room for other suspects and landed on Hess standing against the wall. His eyes were dark and glaring openly at Smith. Anna looked to Smith. He was sitting stoic, staring into space, apparently unaware of the sharp daggers flying at him from Hess’s baby blues.
“What about Smith?”
“Smith?” O’Connell turned the name over in his mind. “I guess it’s a possibility.” O’Connell looked at the German professor more closely, as if a new train of thought had taken over. He himself then turned to look at Hess.
“What about Hess?” he asked her.
“Hess?” she looked at the leading man. “I can guess why you would tag Beltran as a suspect, but Hess? Sure they didn’t get along. That much is obvious. But I don’t mark Hess as a killer, just an ass.”
Laugh lines crinkled the corners of O’Connell’s eyes. It made her wonder how a hint of crow’s feet could look so attractive on a man, but was reason enough to send any woman reaching for the cold cream. She asked again, “Why do you think Hess a possibility?”
“Hollywood is full of scandal. It’s quite possible that Eva knew some things about Hess that could be really damaging in the public eye. There was a time when even Eva had succumbed to his charms. Let’s just say she got to know him pretty well, pretty quickly.”
“I don’t see what he could possibly do in private that could be any more scandalous than what he does in public.”
“There are many more things other than promiscuity that the public finds unforgiveable, and you can bet that Hess is bound to have done at least one of them.”
Since they were going around the room, Anna brought up the next suspect in line for scrutiny. “What about Daniels? He’s the other man in the affair. If what Marian says is true, and Eva always came back, do you think jealousy would be strong enough motive for him? He looks like he could handle a blade.”
“Daniels has got a mean left hook; I’ve been on the receiving end. But as for jealousy being a motive? I can’t see that. He may have liked fooling around with Eva, but he could never be serious about her. He knows better to get too involved with a married woman. Besides, he’s not a one woman kind of man.” His eyes rested on her with an implied undertone. Then he looked at who was sitting nearest to Daniels. “What about Miss Horrified and her husband?”
Anna looked over at the Ocellos. Stu was leaning back smoking a cigar. Una was looking bored out of her mind.
It was then that Grist, noticing that Anna and O’Connell were deep in conversation, slyly moved in closer, but not slyly enough, for they noticed him immediately and halted any further discussion on the subject of whodunnit.
They sat in silence for the next 15 minutes, a lapse that seemed more like hours to Anna. Her eyes frequently drifted to the stairwell where Horace and Forster had disappeared earlier. What could be taking so long? When at last the two men reappeared, Horace directed Forster back to his seat and motioned to Lieutenant Pike to watch him. “He is not to leave this room on any account. Not the restroom. Not for a smoke. Not accompanied. Nothin.”
Horace began looking around the rest of the room. “Which one of you is the husband of the deceased?”
“I am,” Beltran said noncommittally.
“Out of respect, I would like to speak with you next. Please follow me.”
“Yes, well.” He stood up with heavy shoulders, the mountain of a man being moved by the quiet will of another. Horace motioned to the stairwell. Beltran, with heavy steps, walked down the narrow steps.
Anna tried not to stare at Forster. With O’Connell there, she didn’t want her interest to seem like it was caused by any more than suspicion aroused by the inspector’s recent behavior towards him. She looked at the floor, then at Forster. She looked at the director, then at Forster. She looked at Una, then Stu, then Forster. The wall sconce. Forster. Sidelong at O’Connell. Forster. He however, had slid back in his chair and replaced his hat over his eyes.
29
A Pocket Full of Lies
* * *
Well that was a shocker.
Horace stood in the doorway of the office, breathing into his moustache. He had just dismissed Hess and was taking a moment to process the last ten minutes of questioning. Scratch that. It wasn’t questioning. Hess hadn’t given him the chance to ask questions, nor did Horace find it necessary to by the time he finished. Once they entered the room, Hess didn’t shut his yap until he had had his say. And he had had a lot to say. Unfortunately, nothing that made Horace’s current investigation any clearer. If what Hess says about him is true, that could put a whole different spin on the case. He would have to check his sources to see if Hess was more than just the ass he appeared to be. But even then, Mr. Smith may have had nothing to do with Ms. Lorraine’s death.
He made a mental note before heading back up the steps. At the top he looked around. It had been several hours since he began questioning each of those on board. After talking to Moreau, he had allowed him (under supervision of course) to serve some semblance of lunch to those in the waiting rooms, but he himself had continued his interrogations without sojourn. And now Horace was just about finished, at least with the first round.
He scanned the faces both seated and standing. Some looked back at him. Some avoided his gaze. Each one he ticked off in his head as already interviewed, each one that is until he got to Miss Kelly. She looked at him directly, expectantly. There was something about that girl. Something not in keeping with her petite frame and innocent exterior. Something hidden deep below the surface. Question was, could he dig deep enough to draw it out.
He didn’t approach her. He didn’t call her name. He nodded. She responded.
*
Anna knew he would eventually get to her. She knew she would not be the first, nor the second. She knew that she might not be among the first half or even the first three-fourths of the witnesses called, but what she didn’t expect was to be the very last. Not that she was offended, but it did cause the knots in her stomach to tighten further each time Horace walked up those steps.
She stood up and walked over to the place where he had stepped aside, revealing the path she was to take down to the lower level. Visions of Dante’s ten circles of hell flickering before her eyes, Anna Kelly descended into the bowels of the Allura.
Horace followed her, reading her body language as she went down ahead of him. She was surprisingly calm. The only time he read any kind of anxiety or unease was when she had hesitated for a split second at the top of the stairs. He directed her down the corridor towards the master stateroom, but just before reaching it, he indicated the door to the left. The door to the office.
It was the natural place for an interview. Anna had even expected it, but what she wasn’t expecting was how the luxurious stateroom would welcome her like a dank prison cell, or how the warm mahogany walls would make her shiver with cold.
He directed her to her usual straight-back chair while he sat in the one most often occupied by Beltran, having already pulled it out from behind the desk to conduct the previous interviews. Sleeves rolled up, he leaned forward, placing elbows on knees, one hand coming up to his face as if trying to conceal the bushy moustache underneath. His eyes peered at her through small round spectacles. For a while he didn’t say anything. The silence was torture, and she was
sure he was quite well aware of that. When he finally did begin, he didn’t pull out the proverbial notepad and pen she had read about in novels, but he did ask the proverbial questions.
“When was the last time you saw Ms. Lorraine?”
“Last night after dinner. I saw her leaning against the railing portside and stopped to talk to her.”
“You stopped?”
“Yes sir.”
“Go on.”
“She seemed, I don’t know, troubled. I guess I wanted to see if there was anything I could do.”
“You walked up to Eva Lorraine to see if she needed your help?”
“Yes sir.”
“And you’re a hired secretary, a temporary assistant filling in for Mr. Beltran’s regular guy?”
“Yes sir.”
Horace looked at her with a just a slight air of disbelief. “How did she respond to your . . . help?”
“Surprisingly well, sir. I didn’t think she liked me very much . . . in the beginning.”
Not surprising. “Please dispense with the sir. Call me Horace. I understand Mr. Beltran and Ms. Lorraine had a spat yesterday, and that you were one of those present.”
“Yes sir.”
He gave her a look.
“I mean, yes, Horace, sir.”
A hopeless look. “Why don’t you tell me what happened as you saw it?”
“We were at the park,”
“Golden Gate?”
“Yes, at least I think so. I am not really familiar with the city yet. I just arrived a few days ago you see.”
He gave her an understanding nod.
“Well, it all came out when we caught Eva . . . Ms. Lorraine and Mr. Daniels kissing in the bushes. She says it was just a kiss, but Mr. Beltran was pretty upset.”
Matches others’ accounts. He nodded for her to continue.
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