Free In Dublin's Fair City by Rhys Bowen

said. “So you found this young girl dead in your bed?”
    I nodded. “And I suspect she's been murdered.”
    He peered at the body, which indeed did look quite peaceful. “Are you sure we’re not jumping to conclusions that foul play was involvedhere? People do die unexpectedly—heart attacks, fatal asthma, that kind of thing—even young people.”
    “But they don’t take the trouble to arrange themselves neatly in bed and cover themselves up first,” I said.
    “I see what you mean. The captain has been notified. He was asleep, but he will be with us as soon as he can. Why don’t we remove ourselves from here and let the doctor get on with his examination. Henry, will you tell the captain that we’ll be in the reading room? We’re not likely to be disturbed there at this time of night.”
    He took my elbow and steered me firmly out of the door, up the stairs to the main promenade deck, and then into a quiet lounge. It had paneled walls, comfortable armchairs, and several writing desks. It was in darkness when we arrived, and Henry went around switching on table lamps that threw a warm glow onto the polished furniture.
    “If it's all right with you, sir, I thought I’d fetch Miss Sheehan a brandy,” Henry said. “She looks as if she's about to faint.”
    “By all means. Good idea,” First Officer Stratton agreed. He pulled out a leather armchair for me.
    I wasn’t normally one likely to faint and was about to say so. Then I realized that in truth I didn’t feel too steady on my feet. Rose had laced me firmly into my costume, and it felt as if my body was locked into a steel cage at this moment, with breathing virtually impossible. I sank, gratefully, into the chair. Henry returned with the brandy,- and I sipped, coughed, and sipped again, feeling the comforting warmth of the liquor spreading through me.
    In a few minutes we were joined by the captain, a distinguished-looking man with graying beard, looking none-the-less distinguished in a dressing gown and slippers. He barged into the room, bristling with indignation.
    “What's all this about, Stratton?” he asked. “We’ve a death on board?”
    “A suspicious death, sir. The doctor is currently examining the body.”
    “Do we know who the victim is?”
    I opened my mouth, but the words would not come out.
    “This lady's maid,” Henry said for me.
    “And you are?” The captain turned a keen gaze onto me.
    “This is Miss Oona Sheehan,” Henry said proudly.
    “Good God,” the captain said. He stared at me for a second. “Bless my soul,” he said again. “Saw one of your plays once. Dashed good. The one where you were disguised as a boy. Stupid romantic story, but you were splendid. What was it called again?”
    Mercifully I was spared having to answer this question by the arrival of the doctor.
    “Captain Hammond, sir,” he said. “I’ve completed a brief preliminary examination.”
    “And what's your opinion, Doctor? Are we dealing with a death from natural causes, or does it indeed look suspicious to you?”
    “I think it's safe to say that she was suffocated, sir,” the doctor said. “Probably by the pillow on the bed. There are signs of bruising around the neck where she was held down forcibly. However, she had not— uh—been assaulted or interfered with in any way.” He lowered his voice as he said this with a quick glance in my direction.
    “Blast it. This is most unfortunate,” the captain said. “Right. Well, I suppose I’d better go and take a look for myself. If you don’t mind waiting here, Miss Sheehan, I’ll have the doctor escort me back to your cabin.”
    “Make sure you don’t touch anything unnecessarily, sir,” the first officer called after him. “I’m sure the police will want the crime scene undisturbed when they come aboard.”
    “I’m not a complete fool, Stratton,” the captain barked back. “Besides, I am the law on this ship while we are at sea, and I’ll conduct my own inquiry. It only