In Dublin's Fair City (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #6)

“If you want my opinion,” I said, “I think we have to assume that the intended target of this attack was not the maid, but Miss Sheehan herself. I had ordered some costumes for the ball. I kept the Spanish costume because I couldn’t make up my mind at first. When I found the maid lying on my bed, she was wearing this costume. My guess would be that she had been trying it on for a lark when the intruder came in and thought she was me—or rather that she was Miss Sheehan.”


Even as I said this, thoughts were jelling in my mind. Perhaps Oona Sheehan had an unwanted admirer, one she had previously rejected and who now had reason to turn violent on her. Perhaps she saw a particularman coming on board, knew what he was like, and panicked—and got me to trade places with her so that she could travel in anonymity. Hence the instructions to keep to my cabin.

Well, that's just lovely, I thought angrily. She paid me to get killed instead of her. Only now the final joke's on her—it was her maid who copped it instead. Not very funny for poor Rose.

The door was pushed open and Henry arrived, breathing hard after running up several flights of steps.

“I’ve been down to E deck, Captain,” he said, “and the cabin number the young lady gave me is empty.”





Nine


Istared at the elderly steward as he crossed the reading room, still breathing heavily.

“You mean Miss Sheehan wasn’t in the cabin?” I asked.

“No, I mean that nobody's been in the cabin all voyage. It's empty. Unoccupied.”

“But what about my things?” I demanded. “I left my belongings down there. What's happened to them?” Looking back on it, I suppose my few meager possessions were of little consequence compared to a murder, but they were all I had and I wasn’t about to lose them.

Henry shook his head. “I couldn’t say, Miss. There's nothing in that cabin—that's all I can tell you.”

“Miss Sheehan has to be somewhere,” I said. “Perhaps my cabin proved to be too small for her liking and she found something better. Someone must know where she's hiding out.”

“This is most peculiar,” Captain Hammond said. “What does the steward down there have to say about it? Do we know who is assigned to that part of the ship?”

“I could look it up for you, sir,” Henry said. “Do you want me to go and wake the day steward now?”

“Yes, I think you’d better.”

“He won’t be pleased,” Henry muttered. “The crew had a bit of a shindig tonight, and he’ll only just have gone to sleep.”

“Extraordinary circumstances, my man. He’ll just have to be not pleased. And we’d better have the second-class purser up here too.”

Henry looked even less thrilled about the prospect of waking him. “Very good, sir. If you say so,” he muttered, and left. I felt the captain's eyes on me. It was clear that he was now highly suspicious of me and something awful suddenly occurred to me—I might well be his number-one suspect at this point. Pretending to be someone else, occupying a first-class cabin under false pretences, and then claiming to find the true occupant's maid dead. It didn’t look good, did it? Unless we could produce Oona Sheehan to verify my story, I foresaw trouble ahead.

A few minutes later a rather disheveled and bleary-eyed steward stumbled into the room, still buttoning his white uniform jacket.

“This better be bloody good,” he muttered, “waking me up in the middle of the bleedin’ night.”

“Watch your language, man,” the captain barked. “There is a lady present.”

Those bleary eyes now noticed the captain sitting there. He stood to attention rather rapidly. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t realize. Henry just said I was wanted in a hurry and—” Then he noticed me. I must have presented quite an interesting sight in my Marie Antoinette costume.

“Your name again?” the captain asked him.

“Wally, sir. Wally Henshaw.”

“Right, Wally. What can you tell us about cabin 231 and the person who occupies it on this crossing?”

“Two thirty-one, Captain?” the wiry little man wrinkled his forehead. “Ain’t nobody been in that cabin this crossing.”

“You are saying that the cabin has never been occupied from the time we sailed?”

“That's exactly what I’m saying, sir.”

“But I left my belongings in that cabin,” I said. “It was booked in my name. I have the ticket to prove it in my handbag.”

“I believe there was some luggage delivered to it before we sailed,” Wally said, “but then I was told the young lady received some bad news at the last minute and had to disembark again.”

The truth was finally dawning on me. It appeared that Oona hadnever intended to sail in the first place. Not only had she tricked me, but she had walked off with most of my worldly goods. Obviously I had a closet of lovely dresses in their place, but they were not mine and they were far too grand and extravagant for me to wear when I went ashore. I was reminded again that clothes were the least of my troubles when the captain said, “Well, young lady. You’d better give us the full details of who you are and where you were heading on this ship.”

“My travel documents are in Oona Sheehan's cabin,” I said. “Do you want to send someone to fetch them or are you going to take my word for what I tell you?”