Murder on the Orient (SS): The Agatha Christie Book Club 2

by C. A. Larmer

  She looked at Dermott. “You said it yourself the first evening we met, when the sisters ruled the roost during that drill. You said they were veteran cruisers and thought they owned the ship.”

  He nodded his head, his eyes wide.

  “I think they also thought they owned the captain and how dare his upstart wife ruin his life? Despite what they told me, they obviously knew about Corrie’s affair with Cheyne long before Tonio did, and it outraged them that the woman who had treated their beloved captain so badly was going to sail off into the sunset with a younger man and leave poor Tonio bereft. For years they’d watched her treating him this way. How many cruises had they done with the captain and Corrie? Three was it?” Dermott nodded. “They’d seen how she behaved and how the captain turned a blind eye. But this, well, this was too much.”

  “But it was more than just that,” said Missy.

  “Oh yes. The jewellery thefts.”

  “They didn’t!” gasped Dermott.

  “No, no, that really was Cheyne and his wife,” jumped in Jackson now. “But the sisters had heard about the thefts from the captain and, like others, they naturally suspected Cheyne and Corrie. They knew that a woman matching Corrie’s description had been seen hanging around the cabins that had been burgled.”

  “Imagine how furious that must have made them,” said Alicia, “especially if they really are as pious and moralistic as you say, Gunter. They must have been outraged that this young Amazonian beast was not only ripping out their beloved captain’s heart, she was sullying his beautiful ship. Their beautiful ship! Because that’s how they saw the SS Orient. They felt like it was theirs. That’s when they sent her the threatening note, trying to scare her back into line.”

  “But she wasn’t easily scared,” said Claire sadly, and Alicia nodded.

  “Then when Mrs Jollson died of a suspected overdose. Well that just sealed Corrie’s fate. They needed to act; they needed to stop her! I think they truly believed they were on a crusade, that they were doing it all to save the captain and the ship. You said it yourself, Dermott, enough rumours get around on a ship and the whole ship starts to ‘sink with the stink’. There was no other way. Corrie had to go, and wouldn’t it be great, they probably thought, if she just vanished overboard? It must have seemed like a very simple solution to everything.”

  She turned her eyes to her book club friends. “I don’t know if they first got the idea when Tillie saw Cheyne rolling Dame Dinnegan a little too close to the railing one day, or whether they just made that story up to paint him as a potential killer, because that’s how it all played out. That’s why they pinched a packet of Cheyne’s cigarettes and planted them in Corrie’s cabin, along with a condom packet.” She stopped to flash Lynette an “I-told-you-so” smile. “They weren’t to know that the lovers never hooked up there, or if they did know, they didn’t care. They just needed to pin all the blame on Cheyne. They had to make him look as guilty as possible.”

  “‘There are clues here in abundance,’” Perry said, quoting from the novel.

  “Indeed,” said Alicia. “They overdid it a bit just like in the book. Still, it was the perfect revenge. They’d get rid of the unfaithful, thieving, murdering Corrie and plant it all on her equally guilty lover. The one who was also deceiving a little old lady in a wheelchair.”

  “Except she wasn’t a little old lady in a wheelchair,” said Claire.

  “No indeed,” Alicia replied. “The Solarnos must have gotten the shock of their lives when Dame Dinnegan began blackmailing them, probably for money, maybe also so they would back off and leave her meal ticket alone, because Tillie’s correct—Dame Dinnegan needed young Cheyne Smith. She didn’t want him locked up in jail. Either way, I suspect Dinnegan’s murder was less premeditated, more seat-of-the-pants.

  “My guess is one of the sisters, again probably Billie, arranged to meet her in the gym first thing that morning, probably to discuss payment. But she’d already decided by then to kill her, and must have brought along the second knife stolen from the kitchen to do the deed. She could have snuck in and out using the side stairwell by the gym; no one would have seen her. The Solarnos knew the gym would be empty at that hour. They also knew as most regulars on the ship knew, that you, Gunter, would be quietly reading away in the library.”

  She didn’t mention the reason why he hid out there each day, and the blasé look on his wife’s face suggested she didn’t have a clue. Alicia continued, “That was perfect for Billie. It gave her a witness who could put Cheyne at the scene of the crime, because he couldn’t use the stairs. Remember, he and Dame Dinnegan were pretending she was disabled so he would have to use the elevator and wheel her straight past the library to get to the gym.”

  “So why was that poor woman put on the exercise bike?” Gunter demanded. “That was such a cruel thing to do! Was it a clue? To show she could walk? What do you think?”

  He referred the question to Jackson, who just shrugged. “I’m hoping to find out when I interrogate them later, if I interrogate them later. I’m still not sure if the New Zealand police will take over the investigation or whether they’ll let me sit in on it. I guess all the finer details will be explained eventually.” He smiled. “That is if they don’t hook up with someone as proficient as Brenda Williams!”

  “What I want to know,” said Lynette, “is why Dame Dinnegan didn’t tell her husband who she was meeting that morning. I mean, it must have been a secret; otherwise, he would have pointed the finger straight at the Solarnos, right?”

  “The Dame probably just wanted to keep the blackmail money to herself,” said Jackson, “or maybe she worried that he’d be so angry if he knew what the Solarnos had done that he’d dob them in and then her income stream would stop. He obviously suspected something was going down because he was very anxious that morning, wasn’t he, Mr Groot?”

  “Oh yes, he was very nervous. I think now he must have been very scared of his wife. I know when a man is scared of his wife.”

  This time Eva glanced at her husband, a small frown crinkling her forehead.

  Alicia nodded. “That’s also the impression Anita had, and I tend to agree. Cheyne already suspected his wife of overdosing Mrs Jollson on purpose, so maybe she wanted to string him along on this, make him believe she had also killed Corrie. The Dame probably decided to keep it to herself to keep him in line in future. Boy it must have made her feel very powerful.”

  “But not as powerful as a group of sisters with a god complex,” said Claire softly.

  “Or a group of sisters who believed they had every right to play the role of judge, jury and executioner,” added Alicia, resting her palm back on the Agatha Christie novel and releasing a long, satisfied sigh.

  She looked up to find the gathering still watching her, wide-eyed, and she laughed. “That’s it, guys, that’s all I know. And I’m pretty sure we’ve got it right this time.” She laughed again. “As Poirot would say, ‘This case is now officially retired.’”

  Chapter 15

  As the city of Auckland began to bob into focus, the book club friends held on to their hats and leaned against the railing of the main deck, trying hard to focus their own energy on the busy harbour and not the seething sea below.

  Corrie was long gone, everyone accepted that now, but she was at the forefront of their minds as the ship ploughed towards safe harbour. All except for Claire, that is. She still had her mind firmly on board.

  “I do hope this ship’s going to be okay,” she said. “I hope it manages to spring back. It’s such a beautiful vessel. It’d be a shame if it suffered because of everything that’s happened.”

  “Well Agatha Christie’s plot never hurt the real Orient Express,” said Missy. “In fact, thanks to that book more people than ever want to go on that train journey.”

  “Yes except that didn’t actually happen,” said Anders, ever the realist, and Alicia flicked him a disappointed look before sighing to herself.

  There had been another d
eath on this ship, one that no one else had noticed except for Alicia and Anders—the death of their relationship. Nothing had been said, not one word of bitterness or remorse. Instead, they had simply come to a silent agreement, now standing at opposite ends of the group, their eyes barely able to meet.

  Alicia wondered whether Anders would try to reconcile things once they returned to Sydney, but she knew it would be foolish. Theirs had been a tenuous pairing right from the start. In the few months they had been dating, Anders had held Alicia at arm’s length while still holding a candle for his wife. Alicia had known, deep down, that Anders would return to his “first love” in a heartbeat if only she would have him, and it had always left him distracted and her feeling unsettled.

  And everyone knew that when Alicia was unsettled, her mind began to race.

  She sighed softly again. The truth is, they were never a perfect match. All she and Anders really had in common was a shared adoration of Agatha Christie. And as much as she loved Dame Christie, Alicia knew that wasn’t enough.

  Missy meanwhile was pulling Anders up on his facts. “The murder might not have happened on the Orient Express, Doc, but the case that inspired it really did happen you know? Remember the famous aviator Charles Lindbergh? His baby son really did get kidnapped and murdered back in the 1930s at the time Agatha was writing. That’s where she got the idea. And you know what? Even though she changed the names and so forth, one servant really did kill herself because everyone thought she was involved, but she wasn’t. Oh, my goodness me! The police made such a botch-up of the whole thing!”

  As she prattled away, Alicia glanced down the deck towards a group who were just making their way from the bridge. It was the ship’s senior staff including Packer, Chief Officer Pane and, just behind them, Liam Jackson.

  She couldn’t help smiling as she caught his eye, and he said something to the others before walking down the deck towards her. Alicia met him halfway, and they stood awkwardly for a moment, not quite sure what to say.

  Eventually Jackson asked, “You’re all packed and ready to hit the shore?”

  She nodded. “I’m looking forward to it in fact.”

  “Yeah, I guess this voyage wasn’t exactly what you guys were hoping for.”

  “No,” she conceded, thinking not of murderers and thieves, but of Anders and all those romantic nights that had never eventuated. “But that’s life, I guess. So what’s going to happen now? To the Solarnos and Cheyne?”

  “Well Cheyne’s in pretty good hands, but his solicitor doesn’t want anything to do with the Solarno sisters. She said, and I quote, ‘They can fend for themselves, the rotten sods.’ Still, they’re loaded, they’ll get the best representation, maybe even get off.”

  “No!”

  “Hope not, but we don’t have a huge amount of evidence. Hopefully their confession at lunch today will count for something.” He met her eyes. “You were amazing, you know that?”

  She blushed.

  “No, seriously, I can’t understand why your boyfriend would keep you out of the loop. If you were mine I would have told you everything. In fact, I would have insisted you roll up your sleeves and give me a hand.”

  She looked at him sideways. “Even if your boss told you to keep it quiet?”

  He scoffed. “Do I look like the kind of guy who plays by the rules?”

  No, she thought, and that’s what she liked about him.

  “Seriously, you’re in the wrong profession,” he persisted. “For a book reader you’d make a great cop.”

  “What about you?” she said. “For a cop are you a good book reader?”

  “Sure, I read a bit. Why?” Now he dropped his head to one side. “You’re not going to ask me to join your nerdy book club are you?”

  “Ha!” She mock punched him across the shoulder. “After that! No I am not.”

  “So you were going to ask me!”

  “Well…” She glanced back towards the book club. “We did lose a member awhile ago. We do need to fill a spot.”

  “Right, so you don’t just want me for my cocktail skills then?”

  She laughed. “No. I think not.”

  “I’ll give it some thought.” He smiled. “Although, to be honest, I’d rather get you one-on-one. Maybe take you out for dinner one night. On terra firma, no corpses, I promise. What do you think?”

  She hesitated, and he followed her glance to where Anders was standing, watching them, a defeated look on his face.

  “I’ve got some business to finish first,” she said softly, “but then, yes, I’d really like that.”

  “Good, then I’ll see you on dry land.”

  He leaned down and planted a very gentle kiss on her cheek before offering her a cheeky grin and rushing off to catch up with his colleagues.

  Alicia tried to smother the smile that was threatening to hijack her face as her mind began to charge ahead imagining a date with the cute detective and…

  Nothing.

  For the first time in a very long time, Alicia couldn’t foresee a single thing, not one spilt margarita or bout of food poisoning or even the prospect of being stood up.

  Now that was strange.

  “Oi, woman! Get over here!”

  Alicia swung around to find Lynette waving her over.

  “You’re missing the best bit!”

  They were just being taxied into position at the wharf now, and she rejoined her friends to drink in the sight of all the happy faces beaming up at the ship, oblivious to its horror, eager to embark on their own journey. Alicia wondered how much of the past four days they would hear about and how much they really cared. Many of those faces were about to jump on board for the fifty-day voyage back to London, and Alicia guessed that as long as they were pampered and fed and having fun, the tragedies that had befallen the previous passengers would quickly sink into folklore. Just as most crises did.

  She wondered too whether Corrie’s body would ever be recovered and doubted it. But if she was recovered, Alicia was sure they would find a single stab wound in her back, and a look of utter surprise on her beautiful, sun-kissed face.

  “Come on then, guys,” Alicia said, feeling lighter suddenly as the ship’s horn blasted its jaunty welcome. “Let’s get out of here. I think I’ve had enough exotic voyages to last me for a while.”

  Then she smiled in memory of Agatha Christie and headed for the gangway.

  #######

  Bibliography

  With special thanks to the following:

  http://collections.museumvictoria.com.au/items/404048

  http://www.clydesite.co.uk/clydebuilt/viewship.asp?id=1263

  http://www.bogstown.com/ss-orient/

  The SS Orient Story by Roy Clifford and Dave Knight

  #######

  Connect with Me Online

  Sign up to my mailing list to be notified about new releases, exclusive giveaways and my latest news and views: www.calarmerspits.blogspot.com.au

  I’d also love to hear from you! Feel free to get in touch:

  christina.larmer@gmail.com

  Twitter: @CALarmer

  Facebook.com/CALarmer

  About the Author

  Christina Larmer is a journalist, magazine editor and author of ten books including The Agatha Christie Book Club, An Island Lost and six in the popular Ghostwriter Mystery series (Killer Twist, A Plot To Die For, Last Writes, Dying Words, Words Can Kill and A Note Before Dying). She also wrote the non-fiction book A Measure of Papua New Guinea: The Arman Larmer Surveys Story (Focus; 2008). Christina grew up in Papua New Guinea, spent several years working in London, Los Angeles and New York, and now lives with her musician husband and two sons in the Byron Bay hinterland of Northern NSW, Australia. Christina is passionate about crime fiction and when she’s not scribbling away, can be found immersed in a classic Agatha Christie (surprise, surprise!).

  Want to read more by C.A. Larmer?

  Here’s an excerpt from the first book in the Ghostwriter Mystery Series starring
fast-talking, merlot-swilling, mystery-loving amateur sleuth Roxy Parker.

  Killer Twist

  (A Ghostwriter Mystery Book 1)

  Preface

  Her eyes were wide with frenzy and despair, her lips icy blue as she stretched them into a scream that was lost into the night. All around her, ragged gray strands of hair clung like seaweed to the surface, now broken with one more push, one final grab at life as she thrust her mangled hand out before sinking from sight.

  Chapter 1: A Close Shave

  A cool breeze slithered in through the open window and Roxy Parker stifled a smile as she slipped a deep blue, velvet jacket over her T-shirt and jeans and pushed her legs into long, black boots. She pinned a small diamante broach onto the jacket and slipped some dangly earrings on. She adored autumn and winter: the clothes, the crispness, the chance to stay snugly indoors with little more than a good book and a decent bottle of red to keep her company. No need to hover over the answering machine, listening with guilt; in cold weather you were allowed to stay home. Not that she was doing so today. Her agent had called her in and she was running late.

  The silver clock on the mantelpiece read 9:25 a.m. and Roxy scowled at it as she scooped up her keys and smartphone, dropping them into her oversized leather handbag, and pushed her glasses into position on the diving board to her nose. A long, thin scarf had been left drooping over a chair and she retrieved it, wrapping it around her neck and losing her shiny black bob in the process. As she glanced around, ready to depart, she spotted the newspaper, discarded on the coffee table.

  ‘Oh, that’s right,’ she said, grabbing it and studying the small headline that had caught her eye earlier. ‘One-handed corpse washes up in Rushcutters Bay.’