Backing out of the room, he locked the door with the key he kept around his neck, checked it twice then took a deep breath, turned and—
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you there.” Lily Sumner was standing right in front of him. What was she doing creeping around down here? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She shuffled her feet and glanced nervously down the hallway. Had she been watching him? What was she doing near the room? Did she suspect…?
“Can I help you?” Clifford asked.
“Yes, well. First, I wanted to say how sorry I am about Delilah. I mean, I know you two were close and…” She let her voice trail off as she studied him.
She was a wily one. Clifford had seen her nosing around. What was she up to? Blackmail? Surely he was imagining things; the girl simply wanted to give her condolences. The mention of Delilah’s name brought real tears to his eyes.
“Thank you so much. She will be missed.”
“Yes, she will. Terrible accident.”
Clifford expected Lily to move away but she stood there as if she wanted something more. He rubbed his eyes and sniffed. Couldn’t the girl see he was distraught? Why didn’t she just move on? He didn’t want to be rude. If she had been watching him, then she might know something about what he was up to and it wouldn’t be smart to make an enemy of her. But it would be very smart to get her on his side. And the best way to get people on your side is to give them something they want.
Oxley took a deep, shaky breath. “Say, Lily, I was thinking… well… I know no one can replace Delilah, but we still need someone to sing at dinner here.”
Lily’s eyes brightened. “Yes, I understand. The show must go on.”
“Indeed it must. I was wondering if you would take that role.”
Lily looked away but not before Oxley caught the excitement in her eyes. He’d hit the mark: the lead-singer role was exactly what would get her on his side. “Unless, of course, you’re not ready…”
“Oh, I’m ready. I just wasn’t sure… I mean, it’s so soon.”
Was it too soon? Would it appear insensitive if he replaced Delilah? No, of course not. “It seems insensitive but the guests have paid for entertainment and the only other person that could do it is Joy.”
“Oh no, Joy said she’s not interested in the lead-singer role,” Lily said quickly.
Oxley wondered if that was true or if Lily was afraid he might renege and offer it to Joy. Clifford really didn’t care which one of them sang the lead—he had more important things to worry about—but Lily was up to something and he wanted her to feel as if she owed him just in case that “something” could get him in trouble. “Well, then you’re the only one who can do it. I’m depending on you to save the day.”
Lily took a deep breath and straightened. “Of course. You can count on me.”
Perfect. “Okay then, I guess it’s settled.” Lily would work out very nicely. She had a great voice and was about Delilah’s size. She would fit in the dresses and people always liked blondes.
“Great. I’m ready for this. You won’t be sorry.” Lily beamed, clearly happy with her new role.
“I’m sure I won’t.” Clifford brushed past her and hurried down the hallway, casting one final sad glance at Delilah’s dressing-room door as he passed.
Lily smiled as she watched Clifford Oxley glance into Delilah’s dressing room. Soon to be her dressing room. That had been easy. Oxley was clearly distraught and she’d hit him at the right time with the right amount of humility.
Delilah’s misfortune had given Lily a chance. It did seem a bit ghoulish to take advantage of someone’s death, but Lily’s grandmother had always told her that when opportunity knocked, you better answer.
It had been easy to get Oxley to offer her the role, too. All she’d had to do was act like she knew he had a secret. Of course she had suspected for some time that he was hiding something. It was always good to find out people’s little indiscretions: you never knew when that knowledge would come in handy. Like Joy’s nightly excursions. Knowing about those had been the perfect bargaining chip to get her to back off from wanting the lead-singer position. It wasn’t exactly blackmail. Just good business.
Lily stood in front of the dressing-room door and ran her finger over the star. Would this become her dressing room right away? What about all of Delilah’s things? She supposed they would be packed up and shipped off to her family. For now she’d be happy with being able to take over the lead singing and wear the dresses. She knew they would fit with minor adjustments; she’d tried one on once when they were at port and Delilah had gone ashore.
She turned, looking at the door Oxley had come out of. He had seemed a bit preoccupied. He’d made it clear that room was off limits. Apparently it was some sort of storage for the entertainment and visual-arts portion of the ship. It held decorations, costumes, paintings that they hung on the walls around the ship. Anything that added to the ambiance was stored in there. She supposed that was why it was locked up… some people would steal anything that wasn’t nailed down.
But why was Oxley so concerned about it? Surely he didn’t want anything stolen but it wasn’t like he would be blamed. No, Clifford Oxley was up to something, which was good news for her. She could use that to keep him in line. He didn’t need to know that she was unaware of the specifics, in her experience just hinting that you knew was enough. Then again, maybe she should leave well enough alone—she’d seen the murderous look in his eye when she’d stumbled upon an argument between him and Delilah. And, of course, he could always fire her, but if he thought she knew exactly what he was up to, he might want to keep her happy so she wouldn’t tell.
Goosebumps ghosted up her arm. Even though Oxley looked meek, she had a feeling he was dangerous—but surely he wasn’t a killer. Then again, she’d seen the look on his face when he’d seen Delilah talking to Max Lawton, too. He’d seemed mad enough to kill. Lily didn’t want to get on his bad side. But if Oxley had a bad temper, she might be able to work that in her favor. An idea started to form and she turned back to her room. Things were looking up for little Lily Sumner.
Chapter Eight
Breakfast was held in the main dining room. The smell of bacon was enticing, but Nora headed straight for the coffee urns at the end of the pastry table. She liked to get her eight hours of sleep and that certainly hadn’t happened last night. She’d need some extra help to navigate the day. She had no idea how Aunt Julia could be so chipper this morning. Apparently the prospect of a fresh investigation invigorated her.
The mood was somber. People clustered in groups, whispering. Giles looked positively distraught. He rushed over to Nora and Julia.
“Everyone is talking about Delilah,” he whispered.
Julia glanced around the crowd. “That’s only natural. Let them talk it out. It might be wise to make an announcement so they can get all the gossip out into the open and be done with it.”
“Do you think so?” Giles looked doubtful.
Aunt Julia nodded. “Don’t mention our suspicions, of course.” Her gaze was riveted on Clifford Oxley who had just arrived. His eyes were appropriately red rimmed, and he appeared to be in a fog, as one would if someone close to them had just died.
Nora’s focus was caught by a waiter wheeling a cart of silver domed dishes past them. Hopefully they were loaded with pancakes. Nora had seen eggs, bacon and fruit up on the buffet but she was really in the mood for pancakes.
Giles took to the stage, clearing his throat and clanging a spoon on a crystal goblet. “Attention!”
The crowed stopped whispering and turned to the stage. Nora and Aunt Julia headed for the plates on the buffet table.
“As you know, a terrible tragedy has happened.” Giles looked appropriately distressed. “I want you all to be aware, however, that we have everything under control. The ship will stay the course despite our fallen singer. Everything will continue on as planned. We will not forget Miss Delilah Dove, but we must carry on and enjoy ourselves
as she would have wanted. And I’m happy to announce that Miss Lily Sumner will be taking her place.”
Giles paused as people clapped softly. He gestured toward the buffet. “Eat as much as you like!”
The prospect of food livened up the crowd and the level of noise grew as people headed to the buffet to fill their plates.
Nora was starving. She loaded her plate with scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy, sausage and pancakes, which she smothered in maple syrup. Aunt Julia spooned some eggs Benedict onto her plate with a side of grits and then scanned the room.
“Let’s sit next to the Hinchcliffes, shall we?” She had a certain gleam in her eye as she headed off toward one of the round tables where the trio sat with loaded plates.
“Mind if we join you?” Aunt Julia hovered next to Martha Hinchcliffe.
“Not at all. Please do.” Martha gestured toward two empty chairs and they sat down. Today she was wearing bright yellow and sported a hat with a brim as large as the platters they used for the pastries on the buffet table.
Aunt Julia made a process out of flapping open her napkin and depositing it in her lap. Nora was more efficient, having shoved her napkin into her lap in seconds in her haste to start eating. She was already on her second forkful when Aunt Julia spoke.
“Dreadful business last night. I hope it didn’t keep you awake.” Julia glanced at Martha out of the corner of her eye as she cut into the eggs Benedict, causing the hollandaise sauce and yolk to run down the side of the muffin.
“Not at all.” Martha leaned toward Aunt Julia over her full plate, which was loaded with syrup-soaked pancakes, fruit and sausages, and lowered her voice. “I have a little something for sleeping.”
“That’s quite good to have.” Aunt Julia turned her attention to Vera and Beau. “I saw the two of you out there, hopefully you were able to sleep after such an unpleasant accident.”
Beau yawned. “Yes, I was. I’m usually a light sleeper but last night I was fast asleep when Vera woke me to tell me about the scream. Must be all the fresh air.” He gestured toward the windows where the riverbanks rolled lazily by. They were passing a deeply forested area and the banks were lined with the lush green foliage of river birch, sugar maple, red oak and Virginia pine.
“It was a busy day.” Vera picked up the lone piece of toast that sat on her plate and nibbled the edge. “I didn’t sleep a wink after seeing… seeing… that.”
“Yes, it was quite disturbing.” Aunt Julia tucked into her food.
“I heard the announcement about Delilah’s replacement. Is Lily one of the other singers?” Martha asked.
Nora nodded. “Yes. Aunt Julia and I met her in Delilah’s dressing room yesterday when Giles gave us a tour of the ship.”
Aunt Julia frowned. “Speaking of her dressing room, I wonder what will happen with Delilah’s clothes and personal effects.”
“Clothes and personal effects?” Vera looked down at her outfit, a smart tailored suit in blue with white polka dots. Maybe she was trying to figure out if she was the same size as Delilah, hoping to get one of those sparkly gowns at a discount.
“Oh, yes.” Aunt Julia munched on a strip of bacon. “She had a lovely dressing room filled with clothes and personal memorabilia of her career. She had pictures dating back almost a decade. Might even have been someone famous in there. I didn’t think to look, did you, Nora?”
“No. I suppose they’ll pack them up and send them to her family.” Nora glanced back at the buffet. She was still hungry.
Vera put down her toast. “All this talk is very upsetting. Perhaps I should go lie down. I’m still unwell from whatever I had yesterday.”
Beau jumped up to escort her and Aunt Julia forked up another bite of eggs. “Take care, dear, we wouldn’t want you to be out of commission for the rest of the cruise.”
Martha simply snorted, her dark eyes following them as they headed off toward the stairs.
“Such an attentive husband. You’ve raised him well,” Aunt Julia said.
Martha’s face flushed with pride as she soaked a piece of pancake in a puddle of syrup. “Thank you. Though I’m not sure about some of his decisions.” Martha glanced up at the retreating couple. “I always thought he’d pick someone with a little more… personality. She’s too agreeable. Not much of a challenge for my Beau.”
“Indeed,” Aunt Julia said, stealing a sideways glance at Nora.
Luckily, the Entwhistles appeared at the table then, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen after Martha’s comment. Beulah’s plate was filled modestly with a spoonful of eggs, one slice of toast and some fruit. Harold had a pile of bacon atop an omelet.
“Mind if we join you?” Beulah asked.
“We’d be happy to have you. It seems we have a vacancy.” Martha pointed to the chairs just vacated by her son and Vera and the Entwhistles sat. Beulah took a few minutes to situate the large bag with knitting needles and yarn flowing out of the top that had been hanging from her elbow.
Aunt Julia introduced the Entwhistles to Martha Hinchcliffe.
“You knit?” Martha asked. “I’ve dabbled a bit but have only managed to make a tangled mess.”
“I’m working on a hat right now.” Beulah seemed pleased to show off her creation. Her brooch sparkled under the chandeliers as she pulled out a purple knitted section with needles jutting out at an angle.
As she was holding it up for all to admire, Johnny Stokes appeared at the table and took the seat next to Nora. Introductions were made again and everyone chatted amicably as they ate breakfast. Johnny must have been off the sauce as he was quite pleasant and not at all wobbly in a way he hadn’t been before.
“That’s a lovely hat. My grandmother knits,” Johnny said around a mouthful of biscuits and gravy. His voice was cheery, but sadness flickered in his eyes as he looked at the knitting. It was fleeting; only a trained eye like Nora’s would have noticed. He’d been close to his grandmother, but something had happened. Perhaps she’d died, Nora thought with a pang of sympathy for Johnny. Maybe that’s why he appeared so unstable at times.
“Thank you.” Beulah took a few more seconds to smile at the hat, then carefully put it in the bag. Her face turned somber. “I must say, I am tired after last night. I barely slept a wink. How about the rest of you?”
“Hard to get to sleep after that,” Nora said.
Everyone nodded except for Johnny who seemed to be studying them. “After what?”
All eyes turned to him.
“You haven’t heard about the incident?” Martha asked.
“Incident?” Johnny’s fork hovered over his plate.
“I’m afraid there was a death.” Aunt Julia studied Johnny as if expecting him to spring up and confess.
“A death? Who?” Johnny looked around the table and Nora wondered if he was genuinely unaware. There was something in his eyes that told her his interest wasn’t just that of a detached fellow passenger. “And how?”
“Delilah Dove. The singer.” Martha gestured toward the stage where a small group of musicians were playing a jazz tune.
Johnny’s fork clattered to the floor. Maybe he wasn’t as steady this morning as Nora had thought. He bent down to retrieve it and Nora couldn’t see his immediate expression. Too bad; she’d wanted to use her skills to judge if he knew more than he was letting on, but when he came back up, his face was expressionless if not a bit flushed.
“Oh no. What happened?” he asked, setting the fork aside.
“She fell from the boat.” Aunt Julia studied Johnny as she spoke. “Into the paddle wheel.”
“How horrible.” Johnny twisted his napkin in his hands.
“Ghastly,” Martha added.
“Yes, well, it wasn’t pleasant.” Aunt Julia forked up the last bit of food from her plate.
“I should say not. And it was an accident?” Johnny asked.
“Of course!” Beulah’s fingers flew to the brooch at her neck. “What else would it be?”
Aunt Julia
remained silent but by the change in expression of the other diners, Nora could tell they were all considering the alternative.
“Will there be an investigation?” Johnny’s fingers tapped nervously on the table.
“I suppose there must.” Aunt Julia tilted her head and looked at the ceiling. “Why, I recall a similar situation in one of my favorite books. Murder on the Oceanic, written by Ridley Howes. He’s such a wonderful author, don’t you think?” Julia looked around the table.
“Yes.” Martha nodded.
“We love him.” Beulah turned to Harry. “Don’t we, dear?”
“He’s the best,” Nora added.
Johnny looked concerned. “What happened in the book?”
“Someone fell off an ocean liner and everyone thought it was an accident… but the detective in the book cleverly revealed a secret motive for murder.” Aunt Julia smiled proudly.
“Oh dear. Well, I hope that doesn’t happen here.” Martha looked around the room. “I wouldn’t like the idea of a killer being on board.”
“Oh.” Aunt Julia looked apologetic. “I’m sure that won’t be the case here.”
“Let’s hope not.” Johnny placed his napkin on the table. “Well, I’m quite full. Nice to meet you all. I’ll see you later.”
He shoved up from the table and lurched off toward the stairs, having hardly touched the food on his plate.
Nora glanced over at Aunt Julia but her attention was at the other end of the room where Max Lawton sat with a full plate of food in front of him. His eyes weren’t on his food but on Clifford Oxley, who had come out of the door leading backstage and was making his way over toward the side door that led to the boiler room and maintenance area.
As they watched, Max tossed his napkin down and headed after Oxley.
Aunt Julia leapt up from the table. “All this talk of death has been a bit disturbing. I must take my leave. I think a nap will set me right.” She managed a fake yawn. “Nora, will you accompany me to my room?”
Murder on a Mississippi Steamboat Page 5