Free Murder on the Minneapolis by Anita Davison Page B

the dining room doors, Flora spotted Bunny seated at the table. Cynthia sat opposite him, one elbow propped on the table, her chin in her hand and staring into his eyes as if he conveyed the meaning of life.
    Despite Flora reminding herself Cynthia was a married woman, her confidence dwindled. She was the type of woman Bunny was destined to be with; not a shy girl who hovered in a doorway trying to summon the courage to go in.
    A group of diners approached, all talking at the top of their voices; a trait characteristic of the upper classes. Flora stepped behind a pillar as they passed, just as a voice sounded in her ear.
    ‘Don’t turn around.’
    Flora froze, though she was more confused than alarmed. A blast of hot breath enveloped the back of her neck as the voice came again in a sort of breathless croak.
    ‘Leave well alone, Miss Maguire. People disappear from ships all the time. No one would miss one nosy governess.’
    In the brief interval during which Flora plucked up the nerve to turn around, the group had disappeared through the doors in a burst of animated chatter, and the lobby stood empty.
    She hadn’t imagined it? Had she?
    Another three couples descended the stairs, their voices raised as they swept past Flora, leaving an enticing waft of expensive perfume in their wake.
    Flora smoothed her skirt with shaking fingers, then joined the tail end of the group as they entered the dining room. Warmth and light combined with the clatter of plates comforted her as she eased through the crowded room to her table.
    Bunny looked up with a smile and Cynthia relinquished her seat without being asked.
    ‘Are you quite well, Miss Maguire?’ Carl Hersch enquired from the other side of the table. ‘You look somewhat shaky.’
    ‘Y-yes. I’m fine, thank you.’
    Warmth flooded her face and her glance flicked to the empty chairs. Eloise had yet to make an appearance, but not everyone was seated, making it difficult to tell who else was missing.
    ‘Not still nervous about being in company, are you, Flora?’ Bunny whispered.
    ‘N-no, I’m quite all right, but outside just now, I—’
    ‘Ah, here’s our notorious actress,’ Gerald announced, and nudged Bunny, distracting him.
    Eloise approached the table, her stride slow and sensuous. She dimpled at a middle-aged ogler and blew a kiss to another, while their female companions glowered like cross twins.
    ‘I don’t care if my wife does disapprove,’ Gerald murmured. ‘I think our pocket Venus is quite lovely.’
    ‘Good evening, everyone.’ Eloise’s captivating smile encompassed them all. ‘Do get me a drink, Mr Harrington.’ She blew a kiss at Bunny, and drawled in her sultry accent, ‘I’d like a large gin and tonic as an aperitif.’
    Miss Ames exchanged a scandalized look with Monica, who uttered the word, ‘Actresses.’
    ‘Sorry, Flora, you were about to say something,’ Bunny said, once the waiter had left.
    Flora hesitated. The safe, warm atmosphere of the crowded room with its clink of glass and low laughter made the incident in the lobby seem unreal. As if it had happened to someone else.
    ‘It’s nothing. I’m fine.’
    Eloise sipped her drink, flirting in equal measure with Gerald on one side and Max on the other, seemingly unaware of the hostility emanating from their wives.
    ‘Bank clerks, even secretaries travel to Europe unaccompanied these days,’ Mrs Penry-Jones responded to a remark Flora missed. ‘I always say, if one cannot afford to employ a maid, one should not be permitted to purchase a ticket.’
    ‘Why shouldn’t single, independent ladies enjoy foreign travel simply because they are without husbands or male relatives to escort them?’ Miss Ames tossed the trailing end of a canary yellow boa carelessly over her shoulder. ‘It seems harsh to deny us the same advantage.’
    ‘I agree,’ Flora said, recalling Bunny’s advice to stand up to the likes of the old lady.
    ‘Hmm …’ Mrs Penry-Jones did not trouble