Murder on the Minnesota (25 page)

After waking early, Genevieve Masefield lay in her bunk and considered her plight. She was on the horns of a dilemma. Forced to invent a story about her relationship with Dillman, she now had to give visible proof of it, yet the last thing she wanted was for any link to be seen between the two of them. It lessened their effectiveness. There was also the nagging problem of Fay Brinkley. It was she who had confided her interest
in Dillman to her friend. Genevieve could imagine how Fay might react if she saw her with the detective. Fay was an astute woman. Her suspicions would be aroused immediately. However, it was more important to allay Rance Gilpatrick’s suspicions. Genevieve had been rocked by his announcement that someone had seen Dillman going into her cabin. There had certainly been nobody in the passageway outside when she opened the door. Someone must have been lurking around the corner, and that thought unsettled her. She wondered if it was the same person who had searched her cabin.

There were two consolations to be drawn from the confrontation on the previous night. Stunned as she had been by Gilpatrick’s accusation, she did feel that she had extricated herself from the situation with some adroitness. Genevieve had also used the opportunity to resign from her musical partnership with Maxine. It was a relationship that had been awash with reservations from the start. While it got her close to the Gilpatricks, it also exposed her to danger, but it was at a personal level that the main doubts arose. She was increasingly fond of Maxine, finding, in a woman she expected to be hardened by her experience, a yearning for the recognition as a singer that she had never achieved. Maxine Montgomery sought status. Wanting her to succeed, Genevieve had been dragged along with her, but the anxieties never disappeared. The fact remained that she was using Maxine in order to gain vital information about her husband and his associates. At some stage, when the truth finally emerged, there would have been complications. She felt easier in her mind now that she had withdrawn. Another pianist could soon be found to replace her.

Dillman had to be warned. That was her first thought. After taking a bath she dressed and headed for the purser’s office, but he was nowhere to be seen. In view of the fact that she had already been watched, she did not dare to go to the upper deck in search of Dillman himself. Their meeting would have to be postponed. She slipped a note under the purser’s door,
asking him to warn her partner that something had transpired that he needed to know about. Mike Roebuck would have to act as their go-between. As she headed for the dining saloon, Genevieve knew that Maxine would try to persuade her to reconsider her decision. She might have to cope with the blandishments of husband and wife. Determined to resist them at all costs, she went in to have breakfast.

It was still early and the place was fairly empty. Two friends of hers, however, were already there. They gave her their usual cordial welcome and beckoned her over. Genevieve was glad to join Horace and Etta Langmead. Without knowing it, they would offer her some insulation against a possible swoop by the Gilpatricks.

“You’re up with the lark,” observed Etta Langmead.

“I wanted to miss the rush,” said Genevieve.

“What rush?” asked Langmead. “The place is as quiet as the grave. This is a good time to have your breakfast. The waiters fight to serve you.”

“They always fight to serve Miss Masefield,” said his wife.

“I don’t blame them, Etta.”

“I’m so sorry we invited Mr. Seymour-Jones to our table for the second time,” she apologized. “Horry told me that you found his attentions rather embarrassing. It won’t happen again, Miss Masefield. And we did provide that nice Mr. Kincaid in his stead. He’s such an amusing character, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” said Genevieve, forcing a smile.

“I liked the French couple,” said Langmead. “Especially the wife.”

“They were such an interesting couple, Mr. Langmead. So sophisticated.”

“I wish I knew where she bought that dress,” said Etta enviously.

“In Paris.”

“Yes, but where? Do you think she’d give me the address?”

“Don’t bother, honey,” advised her husband. “That’s the
trouble with fashion. It changes so quickly. As soon as you got that dress sent over, it would be old hat. Wait until we get to China. They have lovely silk dresses there.”

“It’s not the same. Horry. I want to look French, not Chinese.”

“Wait until you get to Peking,” he said. “Chinese women are not all peasants, you know. The wealthy ones dress very stylishly. They can hold their own with the French.”

Etta was not persuaded. “Nothing compares with Paris fashions.”

“It’s a question of personal taste,” said Genevieve.

“That’s why I’m having breakfast with two gorgeous ladies,” added Langmead gallantly. “Ah, here they come!”

Two waiters converged on the table. One took Genevieve’s order while the other served the Langmeads. The men went off to the kitchen. Other people were drifting into the room now, but there was no sign of Maxine. Genevieve hoped that she might have finished her breakfast before her friend appeared. Etta Langmead gave her a nudge.

“That was very exciting news that we heard last night, Miss Masefield.”

“News?”

“About this song recital you’re involved in. I didn’t realize you were a pianist.”

“Strictly speaking, I’m not.”

“You must be if you’re able to give a public performance.”

“You have beauty and talent,” observed Langmead. “An irresistible combination.”

“Actually,” confessed Genevieve, “there’s some doubt about my involvement. I think that Mrs. Gilpatrick deserves a more experienced accompanist, so I decided to pull out of the concert.”

“Oh, no!”

“What a shame!” said Etta.

“We were so looking forward to seeing you up on that stage.”

Genevieve did not wish to discuss the subject, but there was
one advantage. In explaining her position to the Langmeads, she was rehearsing arguments that she might later use against Maxine. She made no mention of Rance Gilpatrick’s part in her decision, but she did tell them that David Seymour-Jones had been hired to design posters.

“You poor thing!” exclaimed Etta, a hand on Genevieve’s arm. “That can’t have been your idea. It’s given Mr. Seymour-Jones the excuse to write your name in big letters time and again. That would only feed his infatuation.”

“Not now that I’ve withdrawn, Mrs. Langmead.”

“I’m beginning to see the wisdom of that. I mean, every woman likes admiration but not if it’s taken to extremes. When he’s near you, Mr. Seymour-Jones looks like a lovesick spaniel.”

“Spaniels don’t get lovesick, honey,” said Langmead.

“How do you know?”

“They’re dumb animals.”

“It doesn’t mean that they don’t have feelings, Horry.”

“Maybe, but they’re different from humans.”

“Only in the obvious ways.”

The marital disagreement continued until breakfast was served. Conversation then moved to other subjects. Genevieve did not enjoy the meal. Every time someone came into the dining saloon, she looked up to see if it was either Maxine or Dillman. Neither of them appeared. Finishing her meal well ahead of the Langmeads, she spurned the coffee and excused herself from the table, relieved that she had escaped a potentially awkward encounter. Her relief was premature. As Genevieve left the room, Maxine Gilpatrick was about to enter it. The newcomer wrapped her in a warm embrace.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” said Maxine. “We must talk.”

“There’s no point.”

“There’s every point, Jenny. First of all, I must apologize for what happened last night. What my husband did was disgraceful and I let him know it. Rance stepped over the line. I can’t say how sorry I am about that.”

“I’d rather forget the whole thing, Maxine.”

“It was crazy. He had no cause to be suspicious of you.”

“Look,” said Genevieve reasonably, “I don’t blame you. It’s put you in a very embarrassing position, I know, but I have to stand by my decision. I think it best if you find yourself another pianist.”

“You’re the only one I want.”

“I’m no longer available, Maxine.”

“Why not?”

“Because of the circumstances.”

“They can be changed.”

“No, Maxine.”

“They can,” urged the other woman. “The first thing we do is to get rid of that artist, Mr. Seymour-Jones. We don’t need posters. Word of mouth will be sufficient. Rance said that he’d get Captain Piercey to make a public announcement at dinner.” She gave a snort. “It’s the one bright thing he suggested this morning.”

“I still want to pull out.”

“But we worked so well together.”

“Only up to a point,” said Genevieve. “Let’s face it, Maxine. You’re in a different class. You deserve a professional pianist like the one we saw yesterday in the concert. I could never play as well as that.”

“That doesn’t matter, honey.”

“It does to me.”

“The idea only arose because I heard you playing ‘Beautiful Dreamer’ that day. We blended together instantly. You were in at the start, Jenny. Why throw away all the work that we’ve done so far?”

“I feel that I must.”

“Are you still so mad at my husband?”

“There’s a little more to it than that.”

“In what way?”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“It does matter,” insisted Maxine. “If something else is
upsetting you, I want to know what it is. I thought we were friends, Jenny. We are, aren’t we?”

“Of course.”

“Then tell me what’s on your mind.”

Genevieve paused to consider how much she should say. Needing to provide a stronger reason to withdraw from the concert, she decided to confide her anxiety.

“Before I tell you anything,” she began, “let me say at once that I’m not accusing your husband. He probably had nothing at all to do with this.”

“With what?”

“Somebody broke into my cabin and searched it.”

Maxine was enraged. “When?”

“Two days ago. Nothing was taken, but someone had definitely been there.”

“I’ll kill Rance if he was behind this!”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Maxine. I’m sure that he was not involved.”

“Did you report it to the purser?”

“Yes,” said Genevieve. “He thought it might be a thief. Since I always have my jewelry locked up in Mr. Roebuck’s safe, there was nothing worth stealing. I don’t really care who it was. The fact remains that someone searched through my things, and that’s left me very shaky. I keep returning to my cabin throughout the day to check that he hasn’t been back. It’s ridiculous, perhaps, but that’s the effect it’s had on me.”

“Sure,” said Maxine, with a consoling hand on her arm.

“I’ve managed to keep up a bold front so far, but underneath I’m scared. It’s another reason I can’t go through with this concert. That incident is preying on my mind. I may have seemed all right in rehearsal,” she said, “but a public performance is much more testing. I’m afraid that the pressure would be too much. I’d go to pieces.”

Maxine tried to assimilate the new information. The possibility that her husband had instigated the search made her feel
both angry and disgusted. She sympathized with Genevieve, yet she still clung to the hope that they could somehow perform together. She searched desperately for compromise.

“Listen, Jenny. Let me take this up with Rance.”

“It might be safer if you don’t even mention it.”

“I want the truth,” asserted Maxine. “If I’m sharing my life with a guy who had your cabin searched, I want to know. For heaven’s sake, I’m
married
to him. Rance is no angel,” she continued. “I accepted that from the start. Running a saloon is not like being in charge of a cathedral. You have to be tough and ruthless. But he has a softer side to him as well. I knew about his other women. I knew about some shady deals he made. I knew I wasn’t marrying Jesus Christ. But heck,” she added with a laugh, “it’s not as if I was a vestal virgin myself. What I didn’t know, however, was that he’d stoop to having your cabin searched.”

“We’re not certain that he did.”

“Putting that aside, how about this for an idea? We postpone the concert.”

“No, Maxine.”

“It hasn’t been announced yet,” argued the other. “It would give us more time to rehearse and advertise. And there’s another thing, Jenny,” she said, gripping her arm, “It’ll give you time to get over this business. What do you say?”

“You must look for another pianist.”

“I don’t want anyone else, least of all that guy in the orchestra. Okay, he’s got talent, but he’s a man. Don’t you understand, Jenny?” she pleaded. “The thing that attracted me most about this whole thing was the fact that we were doing it together, putting on a concert to rival anything the men can do. We’d be striking a blow for women, Jenny. Doesn’t that have any appeal to you?”

“A great deal, Maxine. But I’ve made my decision.”

“Good morning, ladies!” said Willoughby Kincaid, bearing down on them. “Discussing your song recital, no doubt?” He
offered both arms. “May I have the pleasure of taking the two of you into breakfast?”

“No thank you, Mr. Kincaid,” said Genevieve. “I’ve already eaten.”

“What a pity!”

“And I need to go back to the cabin to speak to my husband,” said Maxine.

“It doesn’t seem to be my day.” He beamed at Genevieve. “Can’t I even tempt you to another cup of coffee, Miss Masefield?”

Genevieve froze. Over her shoulder, she could see Dillman approaching and saw the bruising on his temple. Her stomach turned. With Maxine beside her, she felt the urge to acknowledge him, especially as the sign of close friendship with another man might help to deter Kincaid. Then she remembered that Maxine would not recognize the detective. She had never met him before.

She turned to Kincaid. “I couldn’t touch a thing, I’m afraid. Good-bye.”

As she walked past him, Genevieve did not even look up at Dillman.

* * *

Rutherford Blaine had a streak of obstinacy in him that they had never seen before.

“I’m sorry, Jake, but I won’t even consider the idea.”

“Why not, sir?” asked Poole. “It’s for your own safety.”