Murder on a Mississippi Steamboat Read online

  Giles pursed his lips. “Yes, but the railing is a bit short and if one were unsteady and it was dark, perhaps it’s not beyond reason.”

  “She could have jumped.” Nora really didn’t think that was the case. Based on the short time she’d been able to observe Delilah it didn’t appear as if she suffered from suicidal thoughts. She was outgoing, enjoyed performing and loved being the center of attention. Though that last part might hide some feelings of inadequacy; Nora hadn’t spent enough time with her to say for sure.

  Aunt Julia shook her head. “I don’t think so. That scream was a scream of sheer terror. If one were to jump on purpose there would likely be no scream at all.”

  “I don’t think we should go spreading rumors of murder around the boat. There’s no sense in causing terror in the other passengers and… well…” Giles lowered his voice and looked down at the carpet. “I wouldn’t want it to get into the papers. It could ruin everything for me. Besides, there’s no proof, and as far as I’m concerned it could have been a terrible accident. Though I suppose that isn’t going to look so great either. Maybe murder would be better…”

  “I’m quite certain it wasn’t an accident.”

  “But how can you be so sure?” Giles asked.

  Aunt Julia reached into her pocket and pulled out a small red item, which she held up to the light. “I found this on the safety deck wedged between the edge trim. Do you know what it is?”

  Giles shook his head.

  “A fingernail. Bright red just like Delilah’s. In fact, she’s missing the middle nail on her right hand. I looked. And do you know how a fingernail could get wedged under there?”

  “She grabbed it when she fell?” It was more of a hopeful question than a statement.

  “Almost. She grabbed on when she was pushed. It’s the only explanation.” Aunt Julia started pacing the lounge dramatically. “I suppose the killer purposely pushed her over the railing. Then, when the safety deck broke her fall, they pushed again. Delilah went over the edge—the deck isn’t very wide. But she was able to grab on. I can picture her trying to gain purchase, her legs dangling precariously above the wheel.”

  Giles shuddered. “You’d think she could pull herself up. She was young and healthy. Not overweight.”

  Aunt Julia spun around and pointed at him, like the detective in one of her novels. “Precisely! She most likely could have pulled herself up. If it had been an accident. But it wasn’t, you see. And the person who pushed her was there to finish her off. Seeing that she was holding on and about to claw her way back up, they hopped over the railing and stomped on her hand until she let go and fell to her death.”

  Aunt Julia said the word “stomped” with such force that Giles jumped. His face turned white. “That’s rather grim.”

  Aunt Julia shrugged. “Perhaps, but if you noticed the way her hand—the very hand missing this fingernail—was misshapen, you’ll see that I am correct. I’m sure Doctor Montford will agree with my assessment.”

  Giles still didn’t want to believe it could be murder. “Her hand could have been crushed in the wheel.”

  “I think not. When she fell into the paddle wheel she became lodged in the core. I watched them try to pull her out. If she hadn’t she would have fallen into the river when the wheel turned. I’m sure the killer was hoping that she would be dumped right into the water. We might not have even known she’d fallen until it was discovered she wasn’t on the boat.”

  “But if she fell on her hand—”

  “Sorry, Giles, but she didn’t. Her hand was raised in the air. So she couldn’t have injured the hand in the fall. It had to have happened before. Which means this was murder.”

  Giles slumped into a chair. “I suppose I’ll have to alert the authorities. Sven already has a call in to our destination port of Vicksburg. It’s three days away, but that’s the nearest port that can handle this boat. I was hoping they would simply collect the body and we could go on our way. Now I suppose there will have to be an investigation.”

  Aunt Julia frowned. “Yes, an investigation would be the thing. But just who would investigate? Local police?”

  Giles shook his head. “No, I believe it goes to the county.”

  “And we’re still in Mississippi.”

  “Yes.”

  “Darn it!” Aunt Julia did not look pleased. “That would be Artemis Leonard.”

  Aunt Julia spat out the name and with good reason; she had butted heads with Artemis on matters of murder before. Nora wouldn’t exactly call them rivals, since Aunt Julia wasn’t law enforcement, but when Aunt Julia had tried to help on a murder case at Grandview Plantation earlier in the year, Artemis had been quite unappreciative. Then again, Julia could be a little pushy in a quirky old-lady kind of way. But she had been the one to put the clues together to solve the case. And Artemis had taken all the credit, much to Aunt Julia’s chagrin. Of course, Julia couldn’t push for credit since people were starting to wonder how she knew so much about murder and clue collecting. She had to keep her pen-name secret. According to her publishers, a male author sold lots more books than a female author. Nora couldn’t quite get on board with that thinking, but she supposed the publishing business might be a bit behind the times.

  Judging by the way Aunt Julia’s eyes were narrowed and the set of her jaw, Nora could tell the wheels in her mind were turning. This time she wanted a chance to find the killer first and prove to Artemis Leonard that she was the better detective.

  “Is he that bad?” Giles asked.

  “He’s horrible. A grandstander. He’ll drag the case out for weeks. He’ll make sure it’s in the papers,” Aunt Julia said.

  As she spoke, Giles paled. “I suppose I don’t have any choice.”

  “Maybe you do.” Aunt Julia sat next to him. “I don’t want to brag, but I have quite an eye for clues. I read a lot of mystery books, you know, and have had a hand in solving some cases. Not that Artemis Leonard would admit it.”

  Giles looked skeptical. “What do you propose?”

  “What if the murder was already solved before Artemis came on board? There would be nothing to put in the papers, we could keep the story contained and word might not get out to disparage the name of the Miss Delta Belle.”

  “That would be wonderful!” Giles’ face lit up, then his smile dimmed. “But how would we do that?”

  Aunt Julia glanced at Nora. “With the help of my niece here, I think I can solve the case. But I might need you to help us gain access to certain areas of the ship. Is that possible?”

  Giles nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course.”

  Aunt Julia smiled. “Great. Now, where exactly is the body?”

  “Doctor Montford said we need to keep it cold since we can’t come into port for a few days. We have it near the freezers.” At Nora’s shocked look he added, “Not with the food, that’s already been removed.”

  Julia nodded. “Then it will be well preserved.”

  Nora grimaced. Aunt Julia really was becoming quite desensitized when it came to matters of death.

  Julia turned to Giles. “So back to the question at hand. Would you like me to try to solve the mystery?”

  Giles nodded. “I would appreciate that very much.”

  Aunt Julia turned to Nora. “Well then, I best retire to bed. We only have three days to solve this so I must start my investigation with a fresh mind bright and early tomorrow.”

  Chapter Six

  Aunt Julia was up early the next morning. She sat at a small table under the window in her cabin. Her fountain pen flew across a piece of paper, ink splattering here and there because she was jotting down clues so quickly.

  “What have you got so far?” Nora stood looking over her aunt’s shoulder.

  Nora herself was no slouch in the sleuthing department. She supposed some skills had rubbed off after helping her aunt work out various scenarios in her books, not to mention the handful of mysteries that seemed to crop up and need solving on their various trips. But h
er studies in psychology had also armed her with knowledge and various skills that helped in investigations. She knew that certain events in one’s past could result in certain personality traits in their later years. She knew what traumas might turn one into a killer. She also knew which types of people might be violent, impulsive killers and which would prefer a premeditated murder. Her finely honed skills of observation enabled her to tell when someone was lying and she knew which questions to ask to get the answers out of a suspect without them even realizing she was interrogating them.

  “Oh, I have many suspects, but the thing I wonder most about is… what was Delilah doing on the sun deck at two in the morning?”

  “Good question.” The scene flashed through Nora’s mind. “She was fully dressed so presumably she had not been to bed.”

  “Was there a party, or was she meeting someone?” Julia asked. “I know that performers often have different schedules. Perhaps they did have a party after dinner was over, but with whom?”

  Nora glanced out the window, watching fertile green countryside pass as they glided along. “Most of the guests were in pajamas. The Hinchcliffes and Percival Montford. The two singers and some men I recognized from the band were all in street clothes, which might indicate there was some kind of party happening, and Max Lawton wore a suit as did two of the men I remember dancing with. They did mention a late poker game so that could be why.”

  “Clifford Oxley and three others from the band had pajamas on, so apparently they weren’t at the party, if there was one. And wasn’t one of the backup singers on the sun deck when we got here?”

  “Yes.” Nora squinted her eyes and thought. The singer at the railing wasn’t the one they’d met previously. Lily had come up after, but hadn’t she been in her street clothes too? “And the other one arrived soon after.”

  “Which brings up another question. If someone pushed Delilah, where did they go after?” Julia capped her pen and stood. “I think there was a good ten minutes or so between the scream and when we arrived on the scene. But others were already there. How long did it take them to show up?”

  “I suppose we could ask.”

  Aunt Julia pressed her lips together. “Maybe, but we don’t want to be obvious about our intentions. I think Giles wants to keep this all hush-hush. Wouldn’t want to cause a panic with guests thinking there is a killer on board. On the other hand, we might want to let the suspects know that things are being looked into; could force them to make a mistake that proves they are the culprit.”

  “Hopefully the killer had a specific reason for killing Delilah and there’s not some madman running about ready to push all of us overboard.” Nora cocked her head to see what Julia had written on the paper. “So, who do you have for suspects so far?”

  “Without knowledge of motive, I’ve started with the person closest to Delilah, which in this case appears to be Clifford Oxley.”

  “He did seem quite upset when he saw her.”

  Aunt Julia nodded. “Almost too upset, don’t you think, dear?”

  “His performance was a bit overly dramatic. Falling on the body and holding up her limp hand. But people grieve in different ways and I don’t think we can necessarily read anything into that. If I had to give a professional opinion, I do believe that he was genuinely distraught. He would have to be a good actor to pull that off. Who else do you have?”

  “Vera Hinchcliffe. She made an awfully quick recovery to be out at night.” Julia’s eyes narrowed. “Her behavior at the reception was quite suspicious, I just can’t put my finger on why.”

  “Is it possible she really was sick? She seems… pampered. Maybe she needed an afternoon nap? Anyone with an ounce of curiosity would have wanted to investigate that scream. She was in her pajamas, which indicates she was roused from bed. I remember seeing her fluffy slippers.” Nora smiled proudly. Aunt Julia would be impressed she’d remembered that detail. Obscure clues were really Aunt Julia’s forte and Nora was working hard to get better at that.

  “Very good.” Aunt Julia pointed the nib of her pen at Nora. “But do you remember her robe? It was cinched tight. What was underneath? Pajamas or street clothes?”

  Nora scrunched up her face. “I don’t think one could see. But she came with Beau and I know he was in his room because his head poked out when we heard the scream. Wouldn’t he have known if Vera wasn’t in there?”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps she was very clever about it. She seems the type. He poked his head out after I did and several minutes had already passed by the time I looked out. If he is a heavy sleeper, Vera could have slipped out, pushed Delilah over the rail, then run back and entered the cabin again pretending to him that she had simply been peeking out in the hallway to see who screamed.” Aunt Julia paused as if considering the plausibility of this scenario. “Then again, Beau appeared to be a bit agitated about something at dinner. He was nervous. Maybe they are in on it together.”

  Nora glanced at the list again, the name Max Lawton jumped out at her. “What about Max Lawton? He’s on your list.”

  “Did you see the way he was looking at Delilah during the reception earlier? I suspect they are not strangers.” Aunt Julia raised her left brow knowingly. “And he was one of the first on the scene and he was wearing street clothes. Not to mention he was glaring at Oxley when he was making that big scene next to the body.”

  “He didn’t look like he’d lost a lover, but his demeanor was attentive, as if he was closer to the deceased than he wanted to let on,” Nora said.

  “I don’t know if we can rely on Percival Montford to examine the body properly,” Aunt Julia said. “He’s clearly got some memory issues with that watch and he seems a bit contrary. Set in his ways.”

  “He does, but something is a bit off there. It’s almost as if he protests too much about the watch. Most people with failing memories try to cover it up, they don’t make a big fuss like Doctor Montford is doing. But I can’t imagine why he would want to call attention to it. And even if he did, what would that have to do with our murder?”

  “Interesting observation.” Aunt Julia wrote down Nora’s thoughts about Percival. “I wonder… would the killer have come back to the scene or stayed away? Perhaps if this was premeditated, the killer might have hidden some pajamas nearby to make it look like they had been roused from bed.”

  “Or worn pajamas to kill her.” Nora ran a finger down the suspect list. Max Lawton, Clifford Oxley, Vera Hinchcliffe, the two backup singers. “Only two of our suspects were in pajamas. Clifford Oxley and Vera Hinchcliffe.”

  “Of course, it’s possible that the killer simply ran off and didn’t come back to the scene at all. That would be most logical. Unless the killer was very clever.” The wrinkles on Aunt Julia’s forehead increased. “And why did Sven Nordby not see anything? Yes, yes, I know that the smokestack obscured the view, but something must have been going on up here before she was killed. Surely he would have seen Delilah and her killer as they came up the stairs or walked the deck?”

  “If they argued, surely he would have heard it. Not to mention her scream.” Nora considered Sven Nordby. With his severe demeanor he was hard to read and she hadn’t noticed anything that would lead her to believe he was the killer. But he was closed off and unemotional which would make it easier to hide. “You don’t suspect him, do you? What motive would he have?”

  “Maybe the motive didn’t have anything to do with Delilah herself. She could have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. What if Sven is up to some shenanigans and Delilah just happened to witness something she shouldn’t have?”

  Nora considered this. “Shenanigans? Like what?”

  Aunt Julia’s eyes twinkled. “Who knows? Maybe there is some corporate espionage going on or an illicit affair or something illegal like a hidden supply of moonshine. Sven would be able to quickly run back to the pilot house before anyone was summoned by the screams. In fact, of anyone on the boat he would have the easiest getaway. Still, I suppose the co-pilot w
ould have noticed and the way Delilah died did seem rather personal.”

  Nora blanched, remembering the misshapen hand. Violence like that usually happened when someone had personal reasons to hate the victim. “If someone really did stomp her hand to a pulp, I don’t think they liked her very much.”

  “Or they were very angry with her.”

  Visions of the look exchanged by Delilah and Max crossed Nora’s mind. “Like if she were having an affair.”

  Aunt Julia must have been on the same page. “Or wouldn’t break things off with a current boyfriend.”

  “I suppose we can’t assume the killer was on the scene when we were.”

  “No, that’s a toss-up. Our best bet is to observe the suspects and see if any of them act out of character. You always say that’s the way to discover a person’s inner secrets. And if you ask me…” Aunt Julia tapped the paper with her pen. “Some of these suspects have big secrets.”

  “Doesn’t everyone.” Nora glanced at the pile of Ridley Howes novels on Aunt Julia’s nightstand.

  Julia stood up and put on her jacket. It was a smart gray tailored piece that matched her skirt. She looked very stylish today. “Let’s get down to breakfast. The room will be abuzz and we might glean something important. And perhaps one of our suspects will give themselves away.”

  Chapter Seven

  Clifford Oxley carefully piled old theater props on top of what he’d just put into the trunk and closed the lid, glancing over his shoulder nervously. He didn’t need to look because no one would be in here. The room was off limits and everyone knew that. No one would have seen him putting anything into the trunk, and even if they had they would never find what it was he had put in. Unless they inspected it very, very closely. If anyone did that, it could mean disaster for him.

  His task done, he hurried to the door. Breakfast was already starting and he should show his face. Though it might not look odd for him to stay in his room so soon after Delilah’s death, he’d already been seen about the ship and he wanted to make an appearance so no one would start looking at him too closely. It wouldn’t be hard to act like he was upset—he really was broken up about Delilah’s death.