Free In Dublin's Fair City by Rhys Bowen Page B

interrogate those who wish to disembark in Ireland and then conduct the rest of their inquiry as we sail to Liverpool.”
    “I’m not sure that—” the first officer began.
    “Damn it, man, stop blathering there. Off you go to brief the crew then,” the captain barked. “I want signals standing by immediately. And remember, mum's the word.”
    “Aye, aye, sir.” The first officer left.
    “Right. Where were we?” Captain Hammond turned his keen gaze on me. “Miss Sheehan, this poor girl was your maid, you say. Do you have any ideas who might have wanted her dead? Was this just a random act of violence, do you think, Doctor?”
    “I don’t think so, sir. Such men would normally look for some sexual gratification as part of their acts.” Again he glanced at me as if apologizing for introducing so repugnant a subject.
    “So we have to assume that your maid was killed for a reason. Miss Sheehan, did she have an unwanted admirer that you knew of?”
    “Tell the truth and get it over with,” a voice was screaming in my head, but I didn’t know where to begin. Also, as the brandy took effect and calmed my racing nerves, I was beginning to see that I might be in a bit of a pickle.
    I shook my head.
    “Right, let's start with basics,” Captain Hammond said. “The girl's full name.”
    “Rose,” I said. “I—uh—don’t know her last name.”
    “Don’t know your maid's last name?” the captain asked incredulously.
    I took a deep breath. “Look, there is something you should know before we proceed any further. I am not really Oona Sheehan.”
    The captain slapped his hands together. “I thought there was something different about you. I sat in the front row of the stalls, you know. Now what the devil is this all about? Out with it.”
    “I thought there was something a bit strange too, Captain, if I might be so bold,” Henry said. “I’ve served Miss Sheehan before. There was something that made me uneasy all voyage long. So that's it.”
    “I’m sorry for deceiving you, Henry,” I said. “I assure you there was a good reason.”
    “Then who the devil are you, and what's happened to Miss Shee-han?” the captain barked.
    “My name is Molly Murphy,” I said. “I had booked a passage to sail to Ireland in a second-class cabin on this ship. When I came on board, I received a note from Miss Sheehan, asking me to come straight to her cabin.”
    “Do you know Miss Sheehan?”
    “We met once recently. She asked me to change places with her.”
    “Change places, why the devil would she do that?” The captain was now eyeing me most suspiciously.
    “She told me she was tired of being pestered by admirers and she needed a rest. She offered me money to pretend to be her until we docked in Queenstown.”
    “And you agreed?”
    “I saw no reason not to.”
    “Why did she ask you to carry out this unusual assignment if you’d only met her once?”
    “Because she thought I looked sufficiently like her to carry it off.”
    The captain looked at me critically. “And did you carry it off? Did anyone twig to the fact that you weren’t Oona?”
    “I was instructed to keep to my cabin. I only took the occasional turn about the deck, until tonight, when, as you can see from the costume, I went to the fancy dress ball in disguise, wearing a powdered wig and a mask.”
    “And what about Miss Sheehan's maid? What did she think?”
    “Oh, she was in on the scheme. Miss Sheehan instructed her to treat me as her mistress for the entire trip.” The initial fear and shock had worn off, and I was now growing weary of this interrogation. “Look, why don’t you send someone down to my cabin in second class and have Miss Sheehan brought up here? Then she’ll tell you the truth and maybe you’ll believe me.”
    “That makes sense,” the captain said. “Henry, would you go to this young lady's cabin and ask Miss Sheehan if she would kindly join us. Apologize about the ungodly hour but tell her it is a matter