When it came time for Lily to sing, the room quieted as if everyone was holding their breath. She took the mic but didn’t launch into song straight away.
“I’d like to thank everyone for coming to hear me… and I dedicate this song to Delilah Dove.” Lily’s voice had an appropriate tremble. She was a good singer. The first song was a little sad but then she jazzed it up with fast tunes and things got lively again. When the band played an instrumental version of the Charleston, Aunt Julia saw her opening to talk to Lily and Joy.
She pushed up from the table and inclined her head toward the table in the corner where the two singers were taking a break. Nora followed.
“What a lovely set. Such a sweet voice.” Aunt Julia’s compliments brought a smile to Lily’s face.
“Thank you so much.” Her smile faded. “Of course, given the circumstances it’s bittersweet to be singing.”
Nora studied Joy while Aunt Julia gushed about Lily’s vocal abilities. Joy didn’t look very happy for Lily. Was she jealous? And how had Lily gotten the coveted lead-singing role instead of Joy?
“At least a tragedy has a silver lining, but is it hard with only one backup singer?” Nora looked from Lily to Joy. “You both have lovely voices so it must have been hard to choose which one would become the lead. Did you do it by seniority? Or were there some other criteria?”
Lily glanced at Joy, then hurried to explain. “Well, honestly, Joy didn’t want to sing the lead, isn’t that right?”
Joy nodded. “Yes. I’m just not ready.”
“One can’t rush into things,” Aunt Julia said. “I assume there was some sort of party last night? It was very late when Delilah was found but she was still in the gown she wore to sing. Were you all at the party? Whatever possessed her to go up to the sun deck?”
“Party? No. Well there was one earlier.” Lily looked at Joy. “But we were in our cabin when we heard the scream.”
Joy nodded. “They have strict rules here about us wandering around the ship. We were in our room. Both of us together.”
“I see. So you have no idea what Miss Dove was doing. Perhaps she was meeting someone…?” Aunt Julia let her voice trail off.
Lily frowned. “Meeting someone? If she was meeting someone wouldn’t they have been able to grab her to stop her from falling?”
Aunt Julia leveled a look at her. “One would think. But maybe they didn’t want her to stop from falling.”
Joy gasped. “What are you saying?”
“Oh, nothing really. Just the ramblings of an old lady with an overactive imagination.” Aunt Julia laughed as if to lighten the mood. “I suppose the investigation will clear it all up.”
“There’s an investigation?” Lily fiddled with her rhinestone belt.
“That’s what I heard. There seems to be some question as to what happened. Well, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll let you get on with your break.”
Aunt Julia headed back to the table with both Lily and Joy staring after her. Nora followed her aunt.
“Sounds like they have alibis,” Nora said when they sat back down. Dessert had arrived at their places. Bread pudding for Julia and shoofly pie for Nora.
Aunt Julia spooned up some of the bread pudding. It was crunchy on top, soft in the middle and gooey with caramel. “Yes, but remember that Joy was at the scene when we got there. She must have run up pretty fast. But then Lily came later. It would take a while to get there from their cabin, so did Joy simply run off faster? And why didn’t they come together?”
Nora twisted in her seat to look at the two singers who were still sitting at the corner table. “Lily fits into Delilah’s dresses almost perfectly.” She’d changed twice that night already but, of course, the turquoise dress that Delilah had been wearing the night of her death hadn’t been one of them.
“A stroke of good luck. Though if you ask me the other one did seem a bit jealous. She wouldn’t fit into the gowns, though; maybe that’s why Oxley wanted Lily to take over.”
“Hopefully we’ll get some answers tomorrow after the suspects have had the night to think about an impending investigation.” Nora dug into her pie. It was thick and sugary and tangy with molasses.
“Maybe, but there is one suspect who we haven’t spread the rumor to. Max Lawton.” Aunt Julia surveyed the room with a keen eye. “I wonder where he is? Why isn’t he here?”
“Maybe he has something to hide and is afraid that you’ll drag the truth out of him.” Nora was joking, but Aunt Julia seemed to take it as a compliment.
“Perhaps, but I think it’s more likely that he’s playing poker in the library this time.” Julia scooped up the last of her bread pudding, then patted her lips with a napkin and pushed up from the table. “Shall we double-check on that on the way to our cabin?”
The library was located on the middle of the cabin deck. It had a formal look with tall bookcases, large round oak tables and Chesterfield sofas. There were matching club chairs atop a cobalt-and-ruby oriental rug. When Nora and Julia passed by, they noticed that several tables were occupied by cigar-smoking card players. Poker chips were stacked on the tables and the air was thick with smoke.
As Nora and Julia walked past the door, the men paid them no attention, concentrating on the cards fanned out in their hands. All except one man—Max Lawton. As they passed by the far end, he looked up, meeting Nora’s eye. A shiver ran up her spine at the warning in his dark eyes. Sensing that it would not be wise to interrupt a poker game just to spread a rumor, they hurried to their rooms. They would have to try to question Max Lawton tomorrow… if they dared.
Chapter Twelve
Vera Hinchcliffe cracked open the door to her stateroom and peeked out into the hallway. The coast was clear. With one backwards glance at her snoring husband, she slipped out. It had been fairly easy to slip her mother-in-law’s sleeping powder into Beau’s bedtime hot chocolate and now he was out like a light. If it worked like it had the other times she’d done this he’d be dead to the world until morning. At least he’d get a good night’s sleep, unlike her.
Worry gnawed at her as she tiptoed down the hall in her satin slippers. She’d been on edge ever since that strange old woman, Julia, had mentioned the pictures in Agnes’—Delilah’s—dressing room. Pictures of Delilah’s career could include one of Vera, and she couldn’t have anyone see that, especially not if there was going to be an investigation as Julia had inferred. She planned to spend a leisurely life in restaurants and bars with Beau, not one behind bars alone.
As she carefully descended the stairs to the lower deck, she realized there was another reason she didn’t want anyone to see that picture, too. She didn’t want to disappoint Beau. Didn’t want him to know she’d lied to him about her past. And, to her horror, she realized she didn’t want to disappoint Martha either. Hopefully she wasn’t getting sentimental about the old buzzard. Though now that she’d spent more time with her, she was starting to think that maybe she and Martha could be friends. Ironically, Martha had acted more friendly since Vera’s outburst that morning.
Well, no time to dwell on that now: she had to focus on the task at hand.
The restaurant was spooky at night, empty and dark, with the moon shining in through the windows highlighting a patch on the dance floor. She practically ran as she crossed it to the door she knew led backstage.
The hallways backstage weren’t anything like on the rest of the ship. They were plain, no fancy carpet or wallpaper. Just gray and ugly, like so many other backstage areas that Vera remembered from her former life as an entertainer. There were a lot of doors, but Delilah’s wasn’t hard to find. Vera pulled a hairpin out of her hair. Lucky for her, her past life had taught her some tricks when it came to getting into locked rooms.
One wall was covered with pictures. She was surprised Agnes/Delilah had taken the time to hang them up for a temporary job, but she always had been a bit full of herself. A smile tugged at Vera’s lips as she scanned the photos. She’d had some go
od times with Agnes, and while she had been showy, there had also been a bit of sadness about her. Back in the day, Agnes had always been worried about her brother. He’d fallen in with a bad crowd and she’d wanted to keep him from harm. Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about him now.
Vera’s gaze came to rest on a small framed photo in the center. Her own image, a little younger and with brown hair, smiled out at her. She was standing next to Agnes and their arms were around each other’s shoulders. She paused at the tug of nostalgia, then snatched the picture off the wall, shoved it inside her robe, and hurried out of the room, making sure to lock the door behind her.
The ruby-and-diamond bracelet weighed heavy in Johnny Stokes’ pocket as he hugged the wall of the Texas deck on his way to the dressing rooms. He was still reeling from what Julia Marsh had said about there being an investigation. He’d been sure they would rule Delilah Dove’s death as an accident. An investigation was something he hadn’t expected and now he couldn’t risk that they’d find the bracelet in his possession, especially since his ticket might be traceable back to her brother.
Johnny had met Rodney Banks—Delilah’s, or should he say Agnes’—brother during a small store robbery Johnny had been reluctantly involved in several years ago. Johnny wasn’t a criminal, but he was desperate for money for medicine for his grandmother’s ongoing illness. He loved Gram and would do anything for her, even risk going to jail. Rodney had gone on to bigger and better things and was now serving a sentence in the state prison, but they’d kept in touch. It was Rodney who had gotten his ticket and set him up on the cruise. Johnny had never met Delilah and that was just as well considering Johnny’s real reason for being on the Miss Delta Belle.
He crept silently down the wide stairs to the dining room, making sure to stay to the edges so as not to have any creaks of the wood give him away. The dining room was empty, but he stuck to the shadows along the walls in case someone came in. He’d made it almost to the door that led backstage when it opened.
Johnny shrunk back into the shadows of the corner. The person coming out the door would have to turn around to see him. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen.
He squinted into the dark. Who was that? It looked like Vera Hinchcliffe. What in the world could she be doing down here?
She was hurrying away from the door, her fur-trimmed robe clasped tight around her. It looked like she was hugging something to her chest. Had she stolen something? Had she been visiting one of the crew members for a secret tryst? Lucky for Johnny she was in such a hurry to get out of there that she never looked back.
He waited until she disappeared up the stairs, then slipped through the door she’d just come out of. The hallway was dark, but the dressing room was easy to find. Picking locks was second nature to Johnny. He let himself in and closed the door behind him.
There were two trunks in the corner. One was open and piled with clothing. Not show costumes. Johnny assumed those might be Delilah’s regular clothes from her room. He’d heard the gowns had been purchased especially for the show and didn’t actually belong to Delilah. Someone had probably packed up her cabin and was now working on the dressing room.
The mirrored vanity had a brush, makeup, jewelry boxes and a few strands of dime store beads. Good, he wouldn’t have to root around in the trunks for the proper place to put the bracelet.
As he pulled the bracelet out of his pocket, it snagged on his cuff. Darn, this was his best shirt. Oh well, couldn’t be helped.
He placed the ruby bracelet on the dressing table beside a strand of jet-black beads and then hurried out of the room.
Chapter Thirteen
June 14, 1926
The next day Nora and Julia greeted the morning with a stroll around the decks. Nora had dressed appropriately in a smart plaid skirt that hung below the knees, a crisp white blouse and a matching cloche hat. Aunt Julia was still dismissive of the shorter hemlines so she wore an ankle length dress of pale yellow and a wide-brimmed white straw hat with matching yellow band.
“The thing about a steamboat is that it is so delightful for strolling,” Aunt Julia said as they walked along the outer rim of the cabin deck. “You have these lovely verandas that run the length of the boat and there are tables and chairs everywhere if you want to stop and rest.”
“And lounges at every end in case you need a longer rest,” Nora said as they passed the forward lounge. She peeked in to see if maybe there was a poker game and, thus, Max Lawton, but the room was empty. They still hadn’t questioned the mysterious Mr. Lawton and Julia was hoping to run into him during their stroll.
“Oh look! There are the Entwhistles and the Montfords. This might be a good time to try to trip Percival up about his involvement in the murder.”
Aunt Julia picked up the pace, stopping at the little round table that Beulah and Harry Entwhistle were seated at. Beulah had her knitting out, the needles clacking away. Percival and Irene Montford leaned against the railing, the scenery passing slowly behind them. Life on a riverboat sure was leisurely… when no one was falling overboard.
“… and I said to Harry, I’m certainly not getting forgetful. One just needs extra time to remember where we put things at our age, don’t you agree?” Beulah looked at Dr. Montford.
“Indeed. I always remember.” He reached in his pocket, presumably for his watch, then when he didn’t find it checked another pocket, then upon not finding it again simply gave up, glancing sheepishly at Irene.
“Hello there, Miss Marsh,” Irene greeted them.
“Julia and Nora, please! Surnames are much too formal.” Aunt Julia settled in against the railing next to Dr. Montford.
Harry glanced over at her. “Have you heard anything more about the…?”
Aunt Julia feigned confusion. “The? Oh… do you mean the investigation?” She lowered her voice for the last word.
Beulah’s needles stopped clacking.
Nora saw the perfect sequel to ask Percival Montford some questions and judge his reaction. “We didn’t realize that you were related to Clifford Oxley. I assume then you knew Delilah. It must have been quite disturbing to be called upon to examine her body.”
Montford’s expression made it clear that he didn’t consider talking about dead bodies to be proper deck-side conversation. “Yes, well… it would be disturbing no matter who it was. And I wasn’t called to examine a body. I was called to provide medical aid. Unfortunately, Miss Dove was beyond that.”
“Luckily we didn’t know her well,” Irene cut in. “Poor Clifford, he has been very upset.”
Nora turned to her. “They were serious then?”
Irene frowned. “I’m not sure. I mean he does seem very much out of sorts, but he hasn’t talked much about her. And being our favorite nephew, you’d think he would have brought her around before.”
“Maybe it was one of those whirlwind romances and he hadn’t had time.” Julia turned to Montford. “I’m curious, though. When you were examining her, did you notice anything odd?”
“Odd? The poor woman had been mangled by a paddle wheel!”
“Yes, but I mean something that didn’t belong. Perhaps something like a button in her hand or something under her fingernails…” Aunt Julia rattled off some of the clues she’d written about in her books, which made Percival regard her with suspicion. Maybe he was wondering if she was the killer. No doubt he thought it was odd she was asking so many specific questions.
Percival cleared his throat. “No, I can’t say that I did. Then again, I wasn’t investigating in that manner. I’m an MD, not a policeman, but I did happen to notice she had a broken jaw, crushed hand, three broken toes, various bruises and contusions, and a missing fingernail.”
“Oh dear, that is very observant,” Aunt Julia said.
Dr. Montford raised his left brow at her. “Indeed. And what is your concern in this matter?”
“She’s macabre. It’s all those murder mysteries she reads,” Nora offered.
“Yes, I do g
et carried away. Well then, we must be running along.” Julia pushed away from the railing, her eyes darting from Beulah Entwhistle to Nora. Nora sensed she was trying to send a message but she was darned if she could figure out what it was. Aunt Julia could be a bit mysterious sometimes.
“We must get on with our stroll. Have a lovely day.” Aunt Julia started off. She grabbed Nora’s arm after they got a good distance away. “Did you notice something odd about Beulah Entwhistle?”
“Beulah? No. Well, she was still working on that hat.”
“No not that, you must be more observant. Her brooch. She wasn’t wearing it.”
Nora looked back.
“Don’t look!”
“Do you think that makes her suspicious? Maybe she didn’t feel like putting it on today or maybe her outfit didn’t look good with a brooch.” Nora looked down at her collar, which was rounded and certainly wouldn’t be any place to put a diamond brooch, especially not one like Beulah’s.
“Maybe, but I wonder…” Aunt Julia let her voice trail off, making Nora also wonder exactly what she was getting at. No sense in asking, though; Julia would talk when ready.
“So what do you think, is Percival Montford hiding something?” Julia asked.
“He could be. He seemed sincere, but he’s older and more patient. Notice how he was able to deflect your questions by saying he is not a policeman? And Irene said that Oxley was upset, but then didn’t know if he and Delilah were serious.”
“She was put out that their favorite nephew hadn’t introduced them before. I assume that indicates he usually introduced them to his girlfriends,” Julia said.
“It does. And did you notice how he didn’t seem the least bit forgetful when he was spouting off details of Delilah’s injuries?”
Murder on a Mississippi Steamboat Page 8