Read Online Murder Most Posh: A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery by Robert Colton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robert Colton
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.”
I’m sure that the steward meant well despite the implications of his remark, “Poker isn’t a woman’s game; best that we just let the matter be.”
Mrs. Beaumont gave both men a grunt and linked her arms through ours; she then towed us like a mighty tugboat towards the stairway.
Once we reached the next landing, Lucy said, “I can’t believe that man accused you of cheating.”
Maxie Beaumont let out a deep cackle and replied, “You sweet girl, I was cheating! I owed that Kraut a hundred pounds. An ace or two at the bottom of the deck was going to get me out of that pickle.”
“Mrs. Beaumont, what terrible thing to do,” replied Lucy, quite abashed.
“Think of it as reparations from the war.” Maxie chuckled at her snide comment, while I recalled Michael Emerson’s disappointment at the ship’s speed.
“I think I will stay in tonight,” I told Lucy after she asked me what I would wear to dinner. The thought of another evening with Maxie Beaumont’s tedious conversation robbed me of my appetite.
“Then I will stay in as well,” Lucy said in a very chipper tone, to hide her disappointment.
“Oh, no, I won’t have that. Make a night of it. Wear your lovely blue gown and my sapphire set,” I told her. “Be quick at dinner, and then take Yara to the ballroom. Find yourself a dashing fellow, and kick up your heels!”
Lucy giggled and fetched her blue satin gown from the wardrobe.
Once dressed for the evening, Yara and Lucy departed, and I was relieved to have the cabin to myself, although I did not feel alone. I placed a clove on my tongue, savored the taste, and took a photograph of Xavier from the writing desk.
Gazing at the image of my dear Xavier, I said, “You are quite clever; how should my diabolical cat burglar abscond with Maxie Beaumont’s jewelry?”
A moment of silence passed, and then I knew: yes, a distraction. I placed the framed photograph gently on the desk and picked up my notebook.
A distraction along the corridor shared by the four parlor suites would lure the Beaumonts out of their room. While an accomplice gained everyone’s attention, the master criminal would sneak inside and lift the jewelry.
But what might the distraction be? I pictured the accomplice calling out, “The ship is sinking!” However, that would not work. Mrs. Beaumont would gather her jewelry before dashing out of her room.
I thought about the subject for some time. In a flash, it came to me. We had all found it strange that Rory Emerson had been kept in the cabin for the trip. Michael’s vague explanation that his brother was special had detoured us from asking more questions.
It struck me the scene would follow with Michael battering on the doors of the Beaumont’s cabin, Mr. Farquhar and his wife’s cabin, and then on Mrs. X’s. He would tell us his brother was missing; he needed help to find him. Distracted, the Beaumonts would leave their cabin door unlocked.
We would all go in search of the young man, only to find him on deck or in the barber shop, somewhere that provided abundant alibis. Michael, knowing what directions we’d all gone off in, would slip inside the Beaumonts’ room and take the jewels that Maxie had flashed about.
The fingers of my right hand began to ache as I rapidly wrote down my idea. I just needed a clue to leave behind, something for Mrs. X to spot.
I knew that the evening had grown late, and I was pleased that Yara and Lucy had yet to return. I enjoyed the idea of them in the ballroom, dancing and making merry.
My concentration was broken when I heard the slam of a door, followed by Mathew Farquhar and his wife yelling. The only words I could make our were his, as he shouted, “I don’t know her!”
The door to our cabin opened, and Lucy and Yara entered the room and pointed toward our fighting neighbors.
“You should
I’m sure that the steward meant well despite the implications of his remark, “Poker isn’t a woman’s game; best that we just let the matter be.”
Mrs. Beaumont gave both men a grunt and linked her arms through ours; she then towed us like a mighty tugboat towards the stairway.
Once we reached the next landing, Lucy said, “I can’t believe that man accused you of cheating.”
Maxie Beaumont let out a deep cackle and replied, “You sweet girl, I was cheating! I owed that Kraut a hundred pounds. An ace or two at the bottom of the deck was going to get me out of that pickle.”
“Mrs. Beaumont, what terrible thing to do,” replied Lucy, quite abashed.
“Think of it as reparations from the war.” Maxie chuckled at her snide comment, while I recalled Michael Emerson’s disappointment at the ship’s speed.
“I think I will stay in tonight,” I told Lucy after she asked me what I would wear to dinner. The thought of another evening with Maxie Beaumont’s tedious conversation robbed me of my appetite.
“Then I will stay in as well,” Lucy said in a very chipper tone, to hide her disappointment.
“Oh, no, I won’t have that. Make a night of it. Wear your lovely blue gown and my sapphire set,” I told her. “Be quick at dinner, and then take Yara to the ballroom. Find yourself a dashing fellow, and kick up your heels!”
Lucy giggled and fetched her blue satin gown from the wardrobe.
Once dressed for the evening, Yara and Lucy departed, and I was relieved to have the cabin to myself, although I did not feel alone. I placed a clove on my tongue, savored the taste, and took a photograph of Xavier from the writing desk.
Gazing at the image of my dear Xavier, I said, “You are quite clever; how should my diabolical cat burglar abscond with Maxie Beaumont’s jewelry?”
A moment of silence passed, and then I knew: yes, a distraction. I placed the framed photograph gently on the desk and picked up my notebook.
A distraction along the corridor shared by the four parlor suites would lure the Beaumonts out of their room. While an accomplice gained everyone’s attention, the master criminal would sneak inside and lift the jewelry.
But what might the distraction be? I pictured the accomplice calling out, “The ship is sinking!” However, that would not work. Mrs. Beaumont would gather her jewelry before dashing out of her room.
I thought about the subject for some time. In a flash, it came to me. We had all found it strange that Rory Emerson had been kept in the cabin for the trip. Michael’s vague explanation that his brother was special had detoured us from asking more questions.
It struck me the scene would follow with Michael battering on the doors of the Beaumont’s cabin, Mr. Farquhar and his wife’s cabin, and then on Mrs. X’s. He would tell us his brother was missing; he needed help to find him. Distracted, the Beaumonts would leave their cabin door unlocked.
We would all go in search of the young man, only to find him on deck or in the barber shop, somewhere that provided abundant alibis. Michael, knowing what directions we’d all gone off in, would slip inside the Beaumonts’ room and take the jewels that Maxie had flashed about.
The fingers of my right hand began to ache as I rapidly wrote down my idea. I just needed a clue to leave behind, something for Mrs. X to spot.
I knew that the evening had grown late, and I was pleased that Yara and Lucy had yet to return. I enjoyed the idea of them in the ballroom, dancing and making merry.
My concentration was broken when I heard the slam of a door, followed by Mathew Farquhar and his wife yelling. The only words I could make our were his, as he shouted, “I don’t know her!”
The door to our cabin opened, and Lucy and Yara entered the room and pointed toward our fighting neighbors.
“You should
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