The Moonlit Murders: A historical mystery page-turner (A Fen Churche Mystery Book 3) by Fliss Chester (web based ebook reader TXT) 📕

‘Oh, I don’t know him.’ Fen turned to Genie and caught a look of grave consternation cross her face. ‘Oxford’s a rather big place really. And doctors are ten a penny.’ Fen winked. She’d guessed it right and her joke brought a smile back to Genie’s face.

‘Perhaps you’ll marry one once you’re home?’ Genie asked, and Fen, although saddened by the thought of marrying anyone other than her own dearly departed Arthur, knew Genie was only trying to lighten the mood. Or change the subject. Fen could play that game, too, though.

‘How’s Spencer this morning? I saw him looking somewhat green around the gills after breakfast.’

Genie laughed, seemingly not noticing Fen’s dodge. ‘Oh Spencer’s just swell. Or he will be by the time he either gets his sea legs or recovers from overdoing it on the brandy last night, whichever comes first!’ She laughed at her own joke. ‘I’m not sure which affronts his masculinity more, being shown to be a terrible sailor or not being able to hold his drink.’

This tickled Fen’s mischievous sense of humour and she laughed too. Men were always so occupied in showing the world how flawless they were… most men, anyway. Arthur never put himself on a pedestal like that and, come to think of it, James wasn’t too much of a macho man either. Perhaps neither of them had anything to prove? Genie carried on talking as Fen pondered.

‘Still, he’s a good man.’ Genie paused as if to consider what to say next. ‘If a little rough around the edges.’

Fen wondered if now was the time to interject or if Genie would carry on talking of her own accord. It was Fen’s experience that sometimes a question was as good as a nail in a coffin for a conversation and sometimes it was best to let people talk. Genie, it turned out, was no exception.

‘It’s all superficial charm, you see, the matinee-idol looks and the catchphrases. I do love him though, don’t get me wrong. But he does have a temper on him. I only hope… well, I hope our future children inherit my patience… and good looks of course!’ She laughed at herself again and Fen thought that there must be a maelstrom going on in poor Genie’s mind. To convince herself that she loved him, rough edges and all, and speak it all out loud to a near stranger. Now probably was the time to offer some sort of wisdom.

‘They always say we get our brains from our mothers, and I think that should include attributes like patience.’ Fen looked at Genie and adopted a more serious tone. ‘But, of course, just because you’ve said yes to a man… well, it’s not too late if you’d rather, you know…’ she nodded her head to one side, hoping it was vaguely back in the direction of Britain.

‘Oh no, no, no.’ Genie shook her head most determinedly. ‘I do love Spencer, I really do. So many women would kill to be in my position. It’ll be all right, honestly. More than all right. I’ve got the McNeal promise.’

‘Genie?’ Fen frowned. Did Genie perhaps doth protest too much?

‘It’ll be killer-diller! You know they say “good beginnings get good endings”, and we had the most romantic beginning in Milan. Tell you what though, he could do with seeing less of that army guy he drank late into the night with.’

‘Lieutenant Johnstone?’

‘That’s the one. Ask your friend Lord James about it, he was there too.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Oh hang, gotta shoot, but it sure was nice chatting to you, Fenella. See you later?’

‘Yes, of course. And thank you again for such fun last night. I never knew a tutu did such wonderful things for one’s legs.’ Fen waved her off and sat back in her chair. There was something up with Genie, and it wasn’t just that she chose to wear a feather boa mid-morning on a sleet-cursed deck on the high seas. She stared in the direction that the younger woman had taken, long after the colourful boa was out of sight. Something was worrying her, but there wasn’t much she could do about it now. Not one to dwell, Fen turned back to the Daily Telegraph she’d bought before they’d left Le Havre, wishing now she’d waited for the chance to buy a new one in Southampton. Still, it wasn’t the news and editorials she was interested in and she took a moment to read through all the crossword clues. She liked doing that first, almost sitting on her hands so she wasn’t able to scribble anything down while she took in the whole grid. One clue did jump out at her, however, and her eye lingered on it for longer than the others. South Africa very quietly rents some gems – nine letters…

The word ‘gems’ had hooked her in and she couldn’t help but think of the tiara and diamonds that had glistened so brightly on Mrs Archer’s head and ears last night. She was just starting to piece the clue together, murmuring things such as ‘Very quietly could mean pp as in music, and South Africa is often SA…’ when a piercing cry cut through the sleet.

20

‘They’ve gone!’

Fen heard Mariella Archer’s voice ricochet across the deck and she had a flashback to a few days ago when she’d witnessed, from about the same distance, the older woman lash out at French Line staff who had accidentally misplaced her jewel case.

Oh… Fen thought. The jewels…

She rose up from the comfort of the deckchair, with her crossword clue jostling for attention in her mind, and headed towards where Mrs Archer was causing quite the scene.

‘Stolen I tell you, stolen!’ She was jabbing her finger at the chest of the first officer. ‘And you have the gall to tell me now that there’s a thief on board? Why didn’t you warn me last night?’

‘Madam, s’il vous plaît, please, I don’t for one moment think the thefts