THAT AFTERNOON, FLORA watched Eddy partner Ozzy in an enthusiastic game of chalking the pig’s eye on the boat deck.
The sound of her name being called brought her head up to where Bunny waved from the promenade deck. He pointed with a finger at his own chest, then down at her in a gesture inviting himself to join her.
At Flora’s nod, he performed a ‘thumbs up’ gesture, pushed back through the crowd, and emerging again on the boat deck. She watched him with possessive affection as he made his way towards her, offering polite greetings and sheepish smiles to fellow passengers as he passed.
‘How is Eddy getting on?’ he asked on reaching her.
‘He appears to have a remarkable aptitude for guessing where he should enter his mark.’ Flora indicated the blackboard which bore a roughly drawn shape of a pig in white chalk. ‘Look, he’s done it again! That’s his third high score.’
The pressure of Bunny’s upper arm against her shoulder robbed her briefly of all rational thought.
‘Hmmm….’ His sceptical tone brought her head round to look at him. ‘That could be because his blindfold is thinner than Ozzy’s.’
‘I hadn’t noticed that actually.’ Flora narrowed her eyes. Bunny was right. Eddy’s blindfold was a thin strip of navy blue chiffon, too thin to obscure his sight. ‘I’ll have a word with him later on the subject of fair play.’
‘Best not to let on you know, and besides, the game is over now.’ He nodded to where the board was being manhandled off the deck by two sailors. ‘I was about to pay a call on Matilda, would you care to join me?’ His tone intimated he granted himself a treat.
Flora hesitated, her desire to spend time with Bunny vying with her responsibility towards her charge. Since the whispered threat the night before she wanted to keep Eddy close. ‘That’s kind of you, but I need to ensure Eddy is suitably occupied.’
‘Don’t you think you’re suffocating the lad somewhat?’ he said with thinly disguised impatience. ‘You’ve barely left his side since breakfast.’
‘Maybe you’re right, but that’s because—’
She broke off as she spotted Eddy approach at a run with Ozzy, while Monica trailed a little way behind, bestowing coy waves to those she passed.
‘Because what?’ Bunny asked.
‘Nothing.’ Flora frowned. The longer she left telling Bunny about the man outside the dining room, the harder it became.
‘May I listen to Mr Gilmore’s gramophone?’ Eddy pleaded. ‘It’s one of the new ones that plays disks, not cylinders. Do say I might, Flora!’
‘Father has a recording of “When Johnny Comes Marching Home”.’ Ozzy joined in. ‘He bought it in New York before we left. The gramophone, not the record. Though of course he bought that too—’
‘That sounds wonderful, Ozzy,’ Bunny said. ‘I wouldn’t mind hearing that myself sometime.’
Flora hesitated, torn between denying Eddy a treat and protecting him.
‘Come now, Flora,’ Monica chided as she drew level. ‘Surely you could relax your watchful eye a little? After all, there’s not much chance he’ll get lost on the ship.’
‘That’s exactly what I’ve been telling her,’ Bunny said.
From the corner of her eye, Flora spotted the captain approach the companionway to the Upper Promenade deck, and came to a decision.
‘If Mrs Gilmore is agreeable, you may listen to the gramophone, Eddy.’ She turned to Bunny. ‘I’ll come and see Matilda with you another time. However, if you’ll both excuse me, there’s something I must do.’
Accompanied by a despondent ‘as you wish’ from one and enthusiastic thanks from the other, Flora headed for the staircase lobby and climbed the stairs. If what Eddy had overheard was true, the captain should hear about the man with the croaky voice. On the landing above, Captain Gates stood talking to Dr Fletcher, where Flora hovered, hoping for a suitable lull in the conversation. She almost left it too late, when, without warning, Captain Gates nodded curtly to the doctor, turned and pushed through the door onto the outside deck.
Flora was about to follow, when Dr Fletcher intercepted her. ‘Is there something you wanted, Miss Maguire?’
‘Um – I wanted to have a word with the captain.’
Flora bounced on her heels as she watched her target through the window as he disappeared rapidly down along the deck.
‘Anything I can do? He’s a busy man, you know.’ The implication the captain was too exalted to talk to her showed in his world-weary expression.
‘Well, all right.’ Flora took a deep breath. ‘Last evening, a man whispered a warning to me outside the dining room not to ask questions about Mr Parnell’s death. But before you ask, no, I didn’t see him, nor did I recognize his voice.’
‘I see.’ Dr Fletcher paused to acknowledge a regal-looking couple who sauntered past.
‘I thought the captain should know, bearing in mind a man has been killed.’ Flora sensed his attention had drifting away and she wished she hadn’t sounded so vague.
‘Mr Parnell died as the result of a fall, Miss Maguire.’ He regarded her with a mixture of resignation and false sympathy which must have taken him years to perfect. ‘I understand you were distraught at finding the body, though perhaps you have allowed yourself to dwell too much on the incident. As for whispered threats, well, they could simply be your fertile imagination.’
Flora counted backwards from ten.
‘I wish you wouldn’t keep accusing me of being distraught in a tone you might use for “unhinged”. I didn’t imagine it, Doctor.’ She put emphasis on the last word, attracting attention from several people who traversed the lobby.
The doctor smiled at them in an I-have-this-under-control-way, and with a firm grip on her elbow, guided her into a door recess.
‘Forgive me, Miss Maguire, but you do appear somewhat agitated. Would a sedative help?’
‘No, it would not, and – oh, never mind.’ She eased out of his hold. ‘I only ask that you relay my message to the captain. He’ll understand its importance, even if you don’t.’
‘Certainly. If that’s what you wish.’ He clicked his heels, then left through the same door the captain had used.
Flora stared after him, while several uncomplimentary adjectives about officers and men in general lined up in her head.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Maguire,’ a voice halted her as she was about to insert her key into her suite door.
Flora turned to the amiable smile of Mr Hersch, his fedora raised an inch above his head. ‘Are you quite well today? You look a little harassed, if I may say so?’
‘Maybe I’m still distraught,’ she said, then regretted her flippancy. Mr Hersch was hardly responsible for the doctor’s attitude. ‘I tried to tell the captain something, but…. Oh, never mind, it’s nothing really.’
‘I suspect it’s a great deal more than nothing, Miss Maguire.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘If it’s something to do with the late Mr Parnell, I may be able to help.’
Flora doubted it, but the idea was tempting. She returned her key to her bag and approached the rail where he stood. ‘May I ask you something first?’
‘Of course, what is it?’
‘What is your interest, Mr Hersch?’
His gaze met hers and held. ‘Let’s say I have some experience in these matters.’
He twisted his hat in his hands before placing it slowly back on his head.
‘Has the captain changed his mind about what happened? About it being an accident?’
‘He thinks the situation warrants further investigation.’ He repeated Eddy’s words almost exactly. ‘Why? Has something new emerged?’
Flora exhaled in a rush. If he had the captain’s confidence, what harm could it do to tell him? After all, she had told the doctor and she respected him less than this thoughtful German.
‘Last night,’ she began slowly, ‘a man outside the dining room warned me in this odd, choked whisper, that I was to leave well alone.’
‘Those were his exact words?’
She nodded, grateful he had not asked the more obvious questions and simply taken her word.
‘Did you believe him?’
‘Dr Fletcher dismissed it as my imagination, but—’
‘No, Miss Maguire. I asked if you took this man’s threat seriously?’
She nodded. ‘He unsettled me enough to believe he might hurt me.’
‘Therefore you must have said something in public to make him afraid of you.’
‘Afraid?’
‘Of course. Or why bother to frighten you into silence?’
‘Oh, you mean what I said at luncheon yesterday about the lack of blood throwing suspicion on to the time of his death. Yes, that was silly of me, wasn’t it?’
‘You weren’t to know, then. Who else have you told about this man?’
‘Only Dr Fletcher. He agreed to relay the details to the captain, but treated me like an hysterical female with an over-active imagination, so I have my doubts.’
‘Fletcher is a difficult man to read, with a somewhat inflated view of his own abilities. The captain, on the other hand, is very experienced. I will mention it to him myself if you wish.’
‘Thank you, I appreciate that. I didn’t know whom to tell.’ She hoped she didn’t sound self- pitying.
‘You’re talking to me.’
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. ‘I suggest that for the time being, it would be wise to make everyone believe you have acceded to this man’s wishes.’
A middle-aged couple passed them, heads bowed in acknowledgement. Hersch returned their greeting, waiting until they were out of earshot before continuing.
‘Tell me, what did you think about Miss Smith’s behaviour at breakfast?’
Flora blinked, disarmed by the unexpected change of subject. ‘She doesn’t appear to like Mrs Penry-Jones much, which makes me wonder why she remains in her employ.’
‘I’ve seen worse masters and less respectful servants, Miss Maguire.’ His sigh conveyed long experience of studying his fellow man. ‘Perhaps Miss Smith views a few sharp remarks a fair exchange for a life of material comfort?’
‘Possibly,’ Flora replied, sceptical.
Whatever advantages Hester enjoyed would never really be hers, merely an illusion of affluence.
‘Has anyone else on board engendered your mistrust, Miss Maguire?’
‘Not really. Cynthia doesn’t like Hester Smith, and she and Max whisper together a lot, but that’s hardly surprising for honeymooners.’ Flora ran through a list of names in her head. ‘Miss Ames asks lots of questions, but that ties in with her being an author. Mr Crowe is arrogant as well as grasping, what my father would call a freeloader. He appears to relish other people’s disagreements too. Even encourages them.’
‘I’ve noticed that myself.’ He ran a thumb and forefinger down either side of his moustache, a gesture he used when thinking. ‘And what does Mr Harrington think of your theory about Mr Parnell?’
‘He listens, but he’s not convinced.’ Flora pushed thoughts of Bunny to the back of her mind. He confused her enough without discussing him with a third party. ‘Mr Hersch, if the captain has doubts, why hasn’t he instigated a search of Mr Parnell’s stateroom?’
‘What do you expect him to find?’ He held her gaze steadily.
Flora hesitated. ‘Something among his belongings which might shed some light on the reason for his death. Documents perhaps, a letter, maybe?’ She was about to mention the photograph, but her confidence failed her.
A small smile pulled at his lips without revealing his teeth.
‘I would ponder that theory, if I were you, Miss Maguire. You may be required to explain it by someone who will not accept dissembling.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ Flora exhaled slowly, aware her cheeks felt hot. ‘If someone did kill Mr Parnell, and I am convinced now they did, how will we find out who it was?’
‘That, I do not know. If we wait, I feel sure he will make a mistake and reveal himself.’
‘Just that? Wait?’
‘Where could a murderer go? We’re in the middle of the Atlantic.’ He touched two fingers to his hat, inclined his head and strolled off along the deck.
Flora didn’t find this at all reassuring, although she found some consolation in the fact she wasn’t the only one concerned by the circumstances of Parnell’s death.