Free Murder on the Minneapolis by Anita Davison Page A

safety is my chief concern.’
    ‘I apologize, Miss Maguire. I don’t mean to be flippant.’ He leaned back in his chair as if settling in for a long talk.
    ‘Tell me, what were your impressions when you first came upon the body?’
    ‘Well.’ Flora cast her mind back to her initial horror atdiscovering the pile of clothes was in fact a dead man. ‘He lay face down with a gash on the back of his head that had already congealed. I couldn’t see blood anywhere else. Not on the steps or the handrail.’ Hersch looked about to ask a question, but she rushed on, ‘I have no medical training, but on a large country estate, injuries occur quite often from farm equipment and horses. I can tell an old wound from a fresh one.’
    ‘All this told you what?’ He steepled his fingers below his chin.
    ‘That if Mr Parnell fell down those steps, he did not do so in the half hour before I got there.’ When he did not correct her she asked, ‘Is lividity what that purple mark was? It covered half his face.’
    Hersch’s mouth twitched, but did not expand into a smile. ‘Indeed yes. It’s what happens when the heart stops pumping. The blood in the veins pools at the lowest points, causing that purplish blue colour. It doesn’t appear for at least half an hour after death. Parnell’s injury would have rendered him either dead or unconscious, so I doubt he could have moved on his own.’
    ‘There was a small amount of dried blood on his shirt collar,’ Flora ventured.
    ‘Dried, you say?’ His brows drew together, his glance drifting to the ceiling. ‘The body had already been stripped when I saw him, but that puts the time of death into dispute as well.’
    ‘There’s something else.’ Her enthusiasm grew at the fact she was being taken seriously at last. ‘Why was he still wearing his dinner suit at six in the morning?’
    ‘A good point.’ He stroked a thumb and forefinger down his clean shaven chin.
    ‘Mr Hersch? Is it possible Mr Parnell died much earlierand his body was thrown down those steps to make it look like an accident?’
    ‘I’ll reserve judgement until more information comes to light.’ He leaned towards her, lowering his voice. ‘But between you and me, Miss Maguire, I’m not happy about the circumstances of this man’s death. It doesn’t look right.’
    A rush of excitement fizzed through her veins that she wasn’t alone in her opinion. Though as he said, they needed more proof. In which case, she would have to find some.

Chapter 7
    E DDY EMERGED FROM his bedroom already half way into a conversation. ‘Some of the chaps want to listen to music after dinner,’ he said, his tongue protruding as he fumbled with his tie.
    ‘There’s a piano in the smoking room and one of the crew has offered to play for us. You don’t mind if I join them, do you, Flora? I promise to be back by 9.30.’
    ‘What sort of music?’ Flora completed the knot for him. Sometimes, she had to remind herself he wasn’t yet fourteen, but at times behaved as if he were much older.
    ‘It’s not boring stuff. Tin Pan Alley mostly.’ He stood passive while she tweaked his collar and smoothed his hair.
    ‘I doubt your parents would object. Your father often hummed the one about the bank if I recall.’
    “The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo’?’ he hummed in perfect tune. ‘I like it too.’
    ‘9.30 at the latest then.’ Flora dismissed him with a gentle push. ‘And remember, it’s Sunday, so decorum is called for. Oh,’ she added in mock seriousness. ‘No smoking, either!’
    ‘Flora!’ He snorted in mock disgust. ‘In any case, theychuck us out before the grown-ups come in.’
    Flora dressed in a gown of primrose yellow lawn with a fine lace overskirt; a lacy shawl over her exposed shoulders quite inadequate for evening sea breezes, but far too pretty not to wear.
    When the meal bugle sounded, she went along to the dining room on the deck below.
    Through the filigree gold etchings on the glass in