Vera had almost fainted when she saw the giant poster with Agnes’ picture on it hung up in the front lounge. Now she would have to go through all kinds of gyrations to avoid her, which might be tricky considering they were trapped on this boat for the next four days. And Agnes—now Delilah—would be singing at dinner every night. What if their table was close to the stage, or if she roamed around from table to table as many of them did? Vera could not risk it; she’d have to skip dinner, but how to do that without raising suspicion from Beau or the buzzard?
Beau inserted the key in the door and opened it, stepping aside for her to enter first. Vera had seen to it that they had booked one of the largest, and most expensive, luxury staterooms. Beau could well afford it. And, of course, the buzzard had her own stateroom next door. Thank heavens they didn’t have to share a cabin.
The room was like most lavish hotel rooms Vera had stayed in. Maybe a little smaller, but it had a queen bed, floral wallpaper and a separate bathroom. A large window looked out on the river. Vera had left the window cracked open—she loved fresh air. A breeze fluttered the silk curtains and she got an idea.
“Hachoo!”
“God bless.” Beau turned to her, his eyes full of concern. “Pookie, are you feeling unwell?”
Vera sniffled and batted her eyelashes at Beau. “I think I do feel a cold coming on.”
Beau frowned. “Maybe you should rest, let me fluff the pillows for you.”
Vera went into the bathroom and started the bath. She needed time alone to think. She’d worked too hard to lose everything now. Beau and the buzzard could not discover her lies—it would be the end of easy street. Could her mother-in-law force an annulment if they discovered she’d lied about her past? She could not run that risk.
Hopefully she wouldn’t have to resort to something drastic.
Chapter Two
“They’ve left her all alone, let’s go introduce ourselves.” Aunt Julia sprang up from her chair. For a woman nearing eighty years of age, she was quite sprightly. She exuded a younger energy. The skirt of her green stout-waist dress rustled as she messed with it. “I’m sure there is a good story there.”
Nora rose, and straightening the drop waist of her peach-colored sheath dress over her narrow hips she glanced back at the bar. Max Lawton was gone. He wasn’t at the crowd in the front of the room, either. Curious.
Aunt Julia was already at the table introducing herself, she turned and motioned for Nora to speed it up. “… and this is my grand-niece, Nora Marsh.”
“Martha Hinchcliffe.” The woman managed a smile and held out her hand. Nora shook it. The woman had a surprisingly firm grip. “Pleased to meet you.”
“We’re in for a lovely trip.” Aunt Julia glanced out the window. The boat was still at dock and you could see the Mississippi stretching out behind it like a blue ribbon. The river was wide in this spot and there were some buildings dotted along the banks, but mostly there were green fields as far as the eye could see.
“That’s what I’ve been told.” Martha gestured for them to sit and Aunt Julia—who studied people like an entomologist studied insects—plopped down next to her eagerly. Anyone of interest who Aunt Julia met eventually ended up as a character in one of her books.
“I saw you with a younger couple earlier. Perhaps your son?” Julia raised an eyebrow.
Martha cracked a genuine smile, pride shining in her eyes. “Yes, that was my boy Beauregard. My only child.”
“And the woman?” Aunt Julia asked.
Martha’s smile faded. “His wife. Vera.”
“Such a pretty young thing,” Julia said.
Martha’s mouth pinched and she shifted in her seat. “Well, looks aren’t everything, now are they? One certainly must consider character. One wouldn’t want to spend the rest of one’s life with a boring limp noodle.”
“Certainly not.” Julia’s eyes shone with the excitement of a new find as she continued her interrogation. “But it’s lovely of your son and his wife to include you on their trip.”
Martha shifted in her seat. “Well, I suppose. Beau has always been an attentive son.”
Momma’s boy, Nora translated in her head.
“How lucky you are.”
Martha snorted. “As you can see, he isn’t much company. His nature tends toward the quiet side, which is why I always pictured him with a woman who was a bit more outgoing. Someone who could bring him out. But now that he has his wife to tend to, he’s even less company.”
Aunt Julia winked. “Young married people do need their time alone.”
Martha frowned, perhaps picturing what that entailed.
“Oh look. Here comes Giles.” Apparently Aunt Julia was done with her interrogation of Martha Hinchcliffe. She rose from her seat. “Come, Nora, let’s say hello. Lovely to meet you, Martha.”
Julia rustled off and Nora nodded at Martha and hurried after her aunt.
As she joined her, Aunt Julia whispered in her ear, “What do you make of that? Sounds like Martha would have chosen someone different for a daughter-in-law. Vera sounds boring.”
“I’m not so sure about that. The way she was hiding back there seems to indicate there is another layer to Vera. Maybe Martha needs to look past the surface.”
“That would be your area of expertise, dear. I think now that we have been introduced, the three of them bear further investigation. Martha would make a perfect murder victim—”
“Julia!” Giles Hendricks held out his arms. He was a happy man, short and balding with a gray mustache that twirled up at the ends. He wore an expensive pinstripe suit and a red tie. He kissed Aunt Julia on each cheek then held out his hand to Nora. “Nora, dear, so glad to see you again.”
“And you.” Nora had met Giles a few times before and liked him.
Giles turned to a tall man beside him. The man was in his late fifties and had thick white hair and a craggy, stern face. “This is our pilot, Sven Nordby. I practically stole him from the Green Line. He’s one of the best river pilots in the south.”
That explained the navy-blue outfit with gold epaulets and white captain’s hat. Sven didn’t crack a smile at the compliment, he simply bowed toward each of them as Giles made introductions.
“We’re about to get underway. I was just introducing Sven around before he disappears into the pilot house.” He turned to Sven, who looked eager to get back to his domain. “Would you ladies like a tour of the boat?”
Aunt Julia’s eyes lit up. More settings for her mystery books danced in her head, no doubt. “That would be wonderful.”
Giles held out both elbows and they each took one. “Then let’s start on the sun deck. We can accompany Sven to the pilot house.”
Chapter Three
The pilot house wasn’t very exciting. It was a small room with a large wooden wheel that sat above the sun deck directly in front of the tall smokestack. The room was a bit warm and loud with the noise from the boilers below. Sven seemed eager to get rid of them. He virtually ignored them as he instructed his staff of two stewards and a co-pilot to clear away the ropes and pull up the gangplank.
They didn’t stay long before proceeding to the sun deck where they had a bird’s-eye view of the landscape. The scene was impressive, with the setting sun lighting the undersides of the clouds in hues of pink and lavender, which were reflected on the water. Rolling green pastures dotted with crops and grazing cows flanked both banks.
“Just lovely,” Aunt Julia said.
“Thank you. This is the best deck on the boat as it has no rooms and you get an almost three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view.” Giles turned slowly, his arms spread. It was quite a view—the only thing blocking it was the smokestack and pilot house on the bow.
They walked to the stern and from this vantage point Nora could see down into the giant red paddle wheel. Aunt Julia leaned over the railing to get a better look at it, most likely trying to figure out if you could hide a body in there.
Giles grabbed her arm. “Caref
ul, Julia, you wouldn’t want to fall into that thing. The railing is not very high and it would be easy to topple over. If the ship were to jerk to a start, you would be killed, drowned and battered by the wheel.”
“Really?” Julia didn’t seem the least bit deterred. She was probably already planning a steamboat murder book. “I hardly think I would fall in. I’d tumble onto that ledge there.” Aunt Julia pointed to a two-foot section on the other side of the railing that jutted out just below the deck.
“That’s a safety feature to prevent such an occurrence, but let’s not tempt fate.”
Giles steered Aunt Julia away from the railing and launched into a spiel about how he’d renovated the boat to have the feeling of a golden-age steamboat but with more luxury. Nora could tell by the way he spoke about the ship that it was a passion of his and the success of this maiden voyage was very important to him.
They descended to the Texas deck, named after the state where this steamboat feature had been invented. Some of the crew’s cabins were on this deck, along with economy passenger cabins, and there was a lovely small lounge called the Texas lounge at the bow.
The next deck down was the cabin deck with its larger cabins and library in the middle, as well as the lavish forward lounge where they’d just been for the reception.
“Plenty of lounges for one to hide from the other guests,” Aunt Julia remarked.
Giles, blissfully unaware that Aunt Julia’s comment probably meant the lounges provided lots of places to stash a murder weapon or provide a false alibi, beamed with pride. “I want the guests to have plenty of places to socialize. The best part is on the main deck with the supper club, the first floating supper club of its kind.” He gestured for them to precede him down the stairs.
The stairs to the dining salon were much nicer than the metal stairs that separated the decks. These were wide and carpeted, with fancy wooden bannisters polished to such a shine that Nora’s hand practically slid off the railing. The smell of lemon polish gave way to the scents of roasting meat as they descended.
The dining room was already set up. Crisp white tablecloths draped round tables set for eight, with elegant white china that had the ship’s logo stamped on it in gold. Crystal glasses sparkled under glittering chandeliers. The parquet floor was laid in a subtle checkerboard pattern of light and dark wood. At one end a stage sat several steps higher than the dining floor. A large space was open in front for a dance floor.
“I think you can see the dining will rival any fine restaurant.” Giles gestured toward the stage. “And the entertainment… well, I’m sure I don’t need to say anything about Delilah Dove.”
“Indeed not. How in the world did you manage to hire such a talent?” Aunt Julia asked.
“It happened to be good timing. She was in between engagements and I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. There was stiff competition, too, but I practically stole her right out from under Glen Meyer’s grasp!” Giles headed toward an unobtrusive door at the end of the room. “Would you like to see backstage? Normally this area is off-limits, but since you’re with me…”
“I’d love to!” Aunt Julia was across the threshold before Giles could even get the door completely open.
The utilitarian look of the backstage area was quite a contrast to the lavish dining room. Back here the hallways were narrow, the doors plain and the walls white. Industrial tiles lined the floors. Some of the dressing-room doors were open and Nora could see a saxophone in one, with band outfits lined up on a rolling garment rack. People smiled and nodded, but no one engaged them in conversation.
“These are the dressing rooms. Our musicians’ sleeping quarters are further down the hallway.” Giles pointed down the hall where several doors, which were rather close together, lined the wall. Nora imagined the sleeping quarters were probably as plain as the hallway and much smaller than her stateroom.
The doors, other than those that went to the sleeping quarters, were open except one. Naturally Aunt Julia tried the knob. “What’s in here?”
“Oh, that’s just storage for the stage sets and decorations for holidays and such. Oxley keeps that locked tighter than a drum. He takes this very seriously, you know,” Giles said as he ushered Aunt Julia along the hallway. Poor Giles. Didn’t he realize that telling Aunt Julia she couldn’t get into a room would only make her more determined to see what was inside?
Nora glanced in another room as they passed. A young woman, her hair in the short curly-bob style of the day, sat at a lighted mirror applying bright-red lipstick to cupid-bow lips. Costumes hung on hooks on the wall.
“Most of the musicians share dressing rooms, but the star gets her own.” Giles stopped at a door that bore Delilah Dove’s name under a large gold star. He knocked. “Miss Dove?”
He waited a second then put his hand on the knob. “I guess she must not be in there. Would you like to see?”
“Of course,” Aunt Julia said.
Giles cracked the door. It was a step up from the other dressing rooms, with soothing blue-gray walls and a large dressing table. A full-length mirror hung on one wall and there was a couch against another. At one end of the room was a long clothes rack stuffed with gowns. The wall opposite the dressing table was crowded with photographs of Delilah, both by herself and posed with performers from various shows. The dressing table had groups of similar photos that looked to go back several years.
A young woman stood next to the rack, her eyes wide as they piled into the room.
“Oh, Miss Sumner, sorry. Didn’t realize you were in here,” Giles said.
“That’s okay, I was just tending to Miss Dove’s costumes.” The girl darted a nervous glance at the open door.
“Julia, Nora, this is one of the backing singers for Delilah Dove, Lily Sumner.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Lily said. Her voice was sweet. She seemed a little shy as she fingered the silky material of a turquoise gown.
Activity at the doorway drew their attention in that direction to where Clifford Oxley stood frowning in at them. “Where is Delilah?”
“She’s not here apparently,” Aunt Julia said.
Clifford’s frown deepened. He turned to Giles. “And what are passengers doing back here? It won’t do to have them traipsing about.”
Giles seemed unruffled by Oxley’s rude attitude. “These are my guests. Julia and Nora Marsh.”
Aunt Julia stuck out her hand, giving Oxley no choice but to shake it and introduce himself. Nora did the same. His hands were clammy, and she resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her dress.
Clifford’s gaze drifted over to Lily and his perpetual scowl deepened even further. “Have you seen Delilah?”
Lily shook her head.
He backed into the hallway. “Well then, I expect you’ve seen everything there is to see down here.” He looked from Giles to Nora to Julia.
Giles cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. “Yes, I think we have. Dinner will start shortly, and I assume you ladies would like to freshen up. I will escort you upstairs.”
As they headed back down the hall, the hairs on Nora’s neck tingled. She glanced over her shoulder to see Clifford Oxley staring after them as if wanting to make sure they really did leave.
Lily Sumner slid the silky fabric of the sleeve through her fingers, stopping at the rhinestone-studded cuff. Turquoise and lime-green stones of all shapes and sizes glittered in a wide band that matched the plunging neckline. She laid it on her wrist, imagining what it would be like to wear it center stage under the spotlights. Lily’s costumes weren’t anywhere near this quality or as flashy. They were plain, black polyester, nothing showy, not even one hint of sparkle. Delilah wanted her backup singers to blend into the background.
Why couldn’t Delilah get laryngitis or something? Then they’d have to let Lily take the lead. All she needed was one chance to show them that she could shine. She was sure her career would take off once she was out from underneath Delilah’s shadow.
“W
hat are you doing in here?”
Lily whipped around to see Delilah in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her expression angry.
Lily dropped the sleeve as if it was a hot coal. “Sorry, I was looking for my costume…”
“In here? Why would it be in here?” Delilah took a step inside and Lily stepped back against the wall, inching toward the doorway.
Gone was the poised and charming Delilah that audiences and the general public saw. This Delilah was angry, nervous. She’d changed over the past months since Lily had been singing backup for her and not for the better. Was it her fame turning her ugly, or was something else going on in her life? Lily suspected the latter. Delilah had been acting very jittery the past three nights that they’d been living on the ship setting things up and rehearsing and Lily thought she knew why.
Lily cleared her throat. “Umm… sometimes the laundry puts them on the wrong rack. Oh, and Mr. Oxley was looking for you.”
Annoyance flitted across Delilah’s face. “He was? When was that?”
“Just a few minutes ago.” Lily backed toward the door. “It seemed urgent.”
“Yes, well, you’d do best not to come in here without permission and keep your nose out of my business.” Delilah stepped closer. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed someone sneaking out of your room. I don’t think Mr. Oxley or Mr. Hendricks would approve of what you’ve been up to. You’d be smart to keep your nose clean and mind your own business.”
“Yes, of course.” Lily practically ran from the room.
She bristled at the threat, but arguing with Delilah wouldn’t be good for her career. It was frowned upon for the performers to get too friendly. Especially between the men and women. Affairs weren’t tolerated because they could cause a lot of problems. But it wasn’t Lily who had been sneaking out, it was her roommate, Joy Morgan. Not that she would ever tell; she wasn’t a tattletale like Delilah. And if she was going to tell on anyone, she’d tell Oxley how she’d seen Delilah in a very intimate meeting with that handsome gambler, Max something-or-other. Lily couldn’t say she blamed Delilah—Max was a lot better looking than Oxley. Then again, Oxley was a lot better for Delilah’s career. Was that why she’d taken up with him? Is that what one had to do in order to get ahead?
Murder on a Mississippi Steamboat Page 2