All Bedlam Courses Past (part two hundred five)

All Bedlam Courses Past

Chapter Eight

Things Relative

(part two hundred five)

One of those light ones, with the little dots. Finger indicating objects here and there.

Posies?

I think so.

A whitish dress with posies? What your mother might call sprig?

Lubinski’s mother had no English names for things.

Well, what the ladies call sprig. Have you heard of it? Can you picture it?

Possibly he could, possibly not. But the whitish dress with posies was agreed upon.

“You mean to say,” said Élucide, “you have tracked down the woman.”

Monaghan took over from Phelan. “Miss Angela McGhee. Her father is in Phelan’s line.” He gestured what appeared the shaking of a moneybag. “And it was with her mother she was sharing a first-class cabin. Here now.” He flipped one of Phelan’s note-pages and etched a floor plan. “Miss Buckley nearest the stairs, port side, sitting room between, Mrs. Demrose in this largest cabin, with the little chamber alluded, Miss Zucker’s. McGhee women nearest the bow end. Mr. Demrose across from McGhees, starboard, having taken more modest quarters than his wife. Starboard arrangements identical, all of the large suite empty. They’ve got to have above two hundred paying passengers or it’s no profit to the parent line, the Seven Stars, sailing.”

“And?” said Ebrach.

“The matter’s material, now, sir, the whole adventure being a bit curst. They sailed with a hundred eighty-three.”

“Makes sense,” said Weem. “A little economizing on the Lubinski end?”

“Five regulars put off. Remaining crew kept on their toes. But I don’t say it altered circumstances. Let’s say only, that there was room for laxity.”

“Miss McGhee owned to the frock? She noticed the commotion?”

“Indeed, Miss. An odd coincidence had taken place. Now, first, it was the ladies that requested one of the pitchers…the other to go on ahead to the pilot room. The daughter stepped out, what with the delay, making down to inquire. She met a fellow coming head on, along that deck below, the promenade area, outside. ‘Hellacious night,’ he says to her. Which she remembered. She recalls herself saying, ‘Mr. Demrose, how do you do’—not having it, the wickedness. But a flare goes off, out on the lake. Collision. Sailing yacht in the bosom of Neptune, all souls saved.”

Monaghan not much disguising that he approved this yacht’s demise.

“So they’re at the rail, making remarks, and the youngster scurries by.”

“That’s right, Mr. Thacker. Breathing heavy…in a taking, as my mother would say. More noticed than noticing.”

“And now we’re going to put Miss McGhee aside, have her testimony introduced when it’s relevant, when Mr. Phelan brings out Mr. Demrose’s.”

217

Bedlam

All Bedlam Courses Past (part two hundred six)

(2025, Stephanie Foster)