Depth of Deception (A Titanic Murder Mystery) (13 page)

"
I recall images mostly. Very much like paintings,
"
said Myra as she closed her eyes.
"
The smell of food and the music seems to help with the images. I can recall the Dining Lounge where this dinner was served.
"

"
Can you describe it?
"
asked Edward.

"
It was m
ostly white
, which
made the style Jacobean.
I believe the f
urniture was oak
,
which matched
the walls, and upholstered with green velvet. The dining room itself was very
large
,
and the floors were tiled...
not marble
, but rather
hundreds of soft tiles patterned to resemble a Persian carpet. On the high ceiling I recall a
glass dome. Some lovely leaded windows and quaint alcoves. There were also recessed dining bays where families and other parties could dine
with some
privacy. I was in one of those bays.
"

"
Really?
"
Edward asked leaning in.
"
Do you recall which one?
"

Myra puckered her brow for a moment. Then she opened her eyes, looked at him for a moment, and then solemnly shook her head.
"
I’m sorry I cannot.
"

Natalie struggled through the rest of the first and second courses, watching Edward to see which utensil he picked up and how to handle it. Myra, on the other hand, seemed to have no difficulty. This made Natalie feel even more awkward and unsophisticated. However, Edward did not seem to notice. His sharp eyes were studying Myra’s every move even while he smiled with a gentlemanly grin.

As the second course was cleared away, Myra stood up and Edward quickly also stood up at the same time. Natalie looked at them for a moment. She recalled seeing an old movie where gentlemen would rise to their feet when a woman got up from, or came back to the table.

"
Will you excuse me?
"
Myra addressed Dr. Lindsay,
"
I need to visit the powder room.
"

"
Of course.
"

An orderly escorted Myra out of the room. The moment she exited, Natalie turned to Edward.
"
This is all very nice. But have we learned anything?
"

"
Oh, yes. This woman is well bred.
"

Edward gestured to Myra’s place setting.
"
She has done more than memorize the menu from a book. She has been educated in fine dining etiquette. And European etiquette to be exact.
"

"
How do you know?
"
Natalie was curious, feeling like she was Watson to his Sherlock.

"
From how she uses and places the cutlery,
"
he smiled. Natalie almost expected him to say ‘elementary.’ Natalie hoped he didn’t notice how she was faring with multiple utensils so she moved the discussion away from cutlery. She sighed,
"
So maybe she was schooled in Europe. That might also explain the slight accent — some kind of boarding school perhaps?
"

"
My thoughts exactly.
"

"
So? How are we going to prove to her that she wasn’t on
Titanic
?
"

"
She is about to fail the test,
"
Edward smiled triumphantly.
"
Watch.
"

As the third course was placed on the table Natalie glanced at the clock on the wall, wondering where Myra had gone. Then she recalled the layers of undergarments that Myra was wearing and wondered how any woman could have managed.

Shortly thereafter, Myra was escorted back in. Natalie couldn’t help but marvel at Myra’s grace. She seemed to glide across the floor toward them, her feet invisible and silent beneath the billowing dress. Edward once again stood up and held the chair for her. As she sat, Myra glanced down and laughed.

"
What’s so funny?
"
asked Edward as he returned to his seat.

"
Forgive me Edward. You have done a splendid recreation of the dinner from the
Titanic
. However, you have made a small error.
"

Natalie watched a bewildered, jaw-dropping expression form on Edward’s face, as he hoarsely whispered,
"
Error?
"

"
Oh it’s an honest mistake I’m sure. The dinner menu did state ‘Poached Salmon with Mousseline Sauce’. We were, however, served ‘Salmon Mayonnaise Potted Shrimps’ instead.
"

Natalie could tell from Edward’s fallen expression that this wasn’t what he expected to hear.

"
How did you know?
"
he stammered
.

"
I was there. I love poached salmon with Mousseline Sauce and was dreadfully disappointed when they didn’t serve it. In addition, the music isn’t quite right. Mr. Hartley’s orchestra only played Ragtime during luncheons. In the evening he played more soothing pieces like the Merry Widow Waltz or the Blue Danube.
"

Without skipping a beat, the orchestra switched the music to what Natalie assumed was the ‘Blue Danube’. The warm sound brought a smile to Myra's face. Natalie looked over at Edward, who had started rubbing his hands together and even heated them with his breath. Myra closed her eyes as she happily swayed to the music. Then her face suddenly contorted as she recalled an image.

"
My son didn’t like the potted shrimp. He dropped them on the floor and kicked them out of sight under the table. His father caught him in the act.
"
Myra winced,
"
Without any warning he struck…
"

"
Stop!
"
Edward stood up from the table. The musicians stopped playing. Myra opened her eyes and looked at him with confusion. Edward, obviously embarrassed and confused, placed his napkin down on the plate. He looked down at Dr. Lindsay.
"
I’ve had enough of this charade. Please excuse me.
"

Without another word he shuffled out of the room without making any eye contact with Myra. She looked hurt and confused and then glanced back to Dr. Lindsay, her blue eyes searching for answers.

_ _ _

Out in the hall, Edward loosened his tie, his mind racing. Who could have coached her so well? He needed air, needed to clear his mind. He made his way towards the stairs. Suddenly he felt light headed. The stairwell seemed to collapse into a dark tunnel.

. . .

From inside the lounge Natalie heard a voice rising in panic from the hallway. A strange look fell across Myra’s face. Before Natalie could say or do anything, Myra rose and dashed out of the room.

"
Call 9-1-1!
"
a woman yelled as Natalie followed.

People were gathered and looking down the stairwell. Natalie saw Myra fight past them.

"
Let me through,
"
Natalie implored as she pushed through the current of onlookers. She spotted Edward collapsed on the stair landing. Myra flew down to him.

"
Don’t move him!
"
Natalie called after Myra, fearing a fall like that at his age could have caused internal trauma.

Natalie tried to descend the stairs. She glanced down to see Myra had already turned Edward over and was cradling his head in her arms, her hand tapping his shoulder in a rhythmic pattern.

_ _ _

Where am I?
Edward wondered. It was dark and he ached all over. Someone was holding him. He could feel a gentle patting on his shoulder. There was something familiar and comforting about it. Edward slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the young woman… Myra. He blinked. There was a definite flash of recognition in her sky-blue eyes and the curve of her gentle smile. Tears started to stream down Edward’s cheeks. With her other hand, Myra gently wiped the tears from his eyes.

The familiar touch simultaneously warmed and sent a shiver through him as he suddenly knew the truth. How many times had she wiped his tears?

Edward could not look away. He sobbed,
"
Mommy?
"

Chapter
XVI

"
You were on the
Titanic
? I must say, you look well for your age,
"
remarked Callum Toughill as he sat across from the middle-aged looking woman.

"
Well, I was only two when
Titanic
sank,
"
she replied.

"
Right then, for the record can I get your full name?
"
asked Callum.

"
Certainly,
"
she replied.
"
My identification states I’m
Loraine
Kramer but I was born Helen
Loraine
Allison. My parents were Hudson and Bessie Allison of Montreal, Canada. They both died when the
Titanic
sank and my brother was taken off the ship by our nurse, Alice Cleaver.
"

"
Is that who took you off? Alice Cleaver?
"
asked Callum as he scribbled in his notebook. He saw from the magazine article that this woman who claimed to be
Loraine
Allison, the only child from First Class to perish on the
Titanic
, was now residing in a modest rooming house near the Balloch Castle grounds in West Dunbartonshire. After a quick ring to directory assistance he was able to call ahead to arrange this dubious meeting. Fortunately for Callum, the Charing Cross Rail Station was within spitting distance of the Mitchell Library and he was able to journey to West Dunbartonshire thanks to the new Argyle Line that opened a couple of years ago.

"
No. Alice Cleaver was a wicked woman,
"
muttered
Loraine
as she retrieved a bottle of Sherry from the small cupboard above the gas stove. Callum took note of the small room that housed her bed, living area and a small kitchenette, and as he waved his hand politely refusing a glass, he also observed how this woman was obviously bleaching her hair blonde. The real
Loraine
Allison was a blonde little girl. This
Loraine
was trying to hold onto a hairstyle that had gone out of fashion decades ago, and the shocking amount of blue eye shadow was distracting to look at when he needed to study her face. There was a hint of brogue that she must have picked up from living in Scotland but her accent was undoubtedly American. Southern States, he guessed.
Loraine
turned down the sound of some soap that was droning on the telly. She sat down as she continued,
"
Miss Cleaver hated me. Threatened to throw me off the ship.
"

"
Why?
"

"
Because I knew the truth,
"
replied
Loraine
as she tossed down the She
rry and poured herself another.
"
I knew she had killed her son the same way. Throwing him off a train.
"

"
Extraordinary!
"

"
What is?
"

"
That at the tender age of two, you would understand the concept of homicide.
"

"
Well…
"
replied
Loraine
with a scowl.
"
I overheard my parents talking about it.
"

"
Really?
"
Callum exclaimed as he looked up from his notebook.
"
They knew of her sordid past and still hired her? I know Canadians have a reputation for being nice, but hiring a woman who committed
filicide
to look after their own children is a bit reckless, don’t you think?
"

Loraine
shifted as she stammered,
"
They heard the gossip after the
Titanic
set sail.
"

"
And yet they still entrusted you and your brother to her care? Curious,
"
retorted Callum. He knew he was coming on strong but her story was dodgy from the start. Furthermore, after investigating several scam artists and fraudsters over the years, Callum had learned to detect the unconscious telltale signs of lying. The involuntary position of the eyes as a person tries to fabricate a story versus the exact opposite position of the eyes as they recall from memory, for example.