Murder on the Minneapolis Read Online Free Page A

She accepted his proffered arm, and started to climb the steps, pausing halfway up, her gaze roving the metal treads.
    ‘Are you looking for something?’ He halted beside her, followed her gaze, one arm of his spectacles gripped by the edges between a thumb and forefinger.
    ‘There’s no blood on these steps,’ Flora said slowly. ‘Or on the deck. In fact there’s not a drop anywhere.’
    ‘Perhaps one of the sailors cleaned it up. Can’t leave it there for the passengers to see.’
    ‘No one came near us with anything resembling a mop,’ Flora murmured as she resumed her climb. ‘Besides, there was none to remove.’
    Her confusion made the walk along the deck a silent one. Why did no one else wonder about the absence of blood on steps that had inflicted a wound deep enough to kill a man?
    If indeed that’s what killed him.

Chapter 3
    B Y THE TIME Flora arrived back at her suite, she was overcome by a belated wave of nausea.
    The wound on the man’s head had stirred a recurring memory from her past that was unnervingly similar. An image that ambushed her at odd times, leaving her with more questions than she could answer.
    Fighting dizziness, she inserted herself between Bunny and the door. ‘Thank you for escorting me back, Mr Harrington, I shall be perfectly all right now.’
    ‘Most probably.’ Bunny pushed the door open and indicated she should enter ahead of him. ‘However, you look decidedly shaky if I may say so. I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I abandoned you now.’
    Discouraging him was too much of an effort. Instead, Flora sank into the nearest wicker chair, leaving him to close the door.
    ‘It must have been a dreadful shock finding a body like that,’ Bunny said.
    ‘Not at first, but when I saw that gash on his head, I….’ She motioned him into the chair opposite. ‘I imagine it must have been worse for you.’ She thrust her hands in the folds of her skirt to still their shaking. ‘You knew him.’
    ‘Not really.’ He tugged up his trousers and sat, dwarfing the chair. ‘After dinner, those at our table repaired to the saloon for drinks. I only remember him because he instigated a game of poker.’
    A light knock came at the door, and Flora half-rose, glad of a reason to break eye contact. The intensity of his stare made her uncomfortable. ‘That will be my morning tea.’
    ‘I’ll go.’ Bunny halted her with an upraised hand, leaving her with little choice but to relax back into her seat.
    She squeezed her eyes shut to banish the image of the man on deck, which mingled with that of a woman from another time, though the first disturbed her far worse than the second. That the lady was her mother was deeply ingrained, though the circumstances remained indistinct. ‘Steward thought he had come to the wrong suite.’ Bunny’s cheerful voice cut short the memory. ‘But I soon put him straight. Shall I pour?’ He hovered above the loaded tray he had placed on the table between them, from which the comforting smell of tea wafted into the room, reminding her of the Cleeve Abbey nursery in the afternoons.
    ‘The steward told me word has already begun circulating about that poor chap.’ Bunny’s evident unfamiliarity with china caused him to misjudge the arc of hot water and he slopped some into a saucer. ‘What were you saying about the blood?’ he asked, dabbing at the wet tray clumsily with a napkin.
    Flora attempted a smile. ‘There was none. Not on the companionway, the deck or the handrail. Do you believe it was an accident?’
    He adjusted his glasses, as if taking time to think. ‘I didn’t have time to form much of an opinion, what with those sailors in such a hurry to take him away.’ He handed her a full cup, a finger pointed to the sugar bowl.
    Flora declined. ‘I thought it was odd, that’s all.’
    He stirred his tea slowly. ‘The doctor didn’t agree though, did he?’
    ‘He didn’t consider anything I had to say. But then I suppose the last thing the crew