Murder Most Posh: A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery by Robert Colton Page A

was with Ms. Wainwright, and the telephone operator only knew that the call came in late; he keeps no record of the calls or the times they are made.
       “The operator may have been mistaken as well about whether or not the voice was Mr. Farquhar’s. This isn’t enough to exonerate the man—far from it,” I explained like a seasoned detective.
       A frown appeared on my dear friend’s face, and she asked, “Then what was the point of it all?”
       “Once we find our facts, these seemingly random pieces of information will hold them together,” I said with firm conviction.
      Lucy’s frown was replaced with an amused smile as she jotted down my statement into her notebook.
       We finished our breakfast and left the café. Lucy noticed the weather posting in the hall leading back to our room and read it aloud, concluding, “Seems that we are heading into another storm this evening.”
       Of that, I had no doubt.
     
       After breakfast, I bade Lucy and Yara to enter our room without me. I wanted a moment to ask a few questions of Maxie Beaumont.
       I gave a friendly smile to the man posted at Mathew’s door, full well knowing his orders now included not only keeping the suspicious occupant inside the cabin but also keeping me out.
       Maxie came to the door herself and was slow to force her crocodile smile as she greeted me.
       “Mrs. Stayton, good morning.”
       “I’m so sorry to trouble you, but I have a few questions about the countess, and it dawned on me, Maxie Beaumont was the person to ask.”
       I had learned young in life that people liked two things: compliments and hearing their own name. A genuine smile—well, as genuine as she could produce—now appeared on the woman’s large, round face.
       “Why, come in, dear.”
       With a heavy heart, I stepped into the parlor of Cabin A-1. Not even a full four years had passed since Xavier and I had so enjoyed the suite.
       Decorated like a French palace, it had been the perfect place for our honeymoon. I, after all, felt like a princess who had found my prince.
       Taking the offered seat, I gently placed my hands on the same armrests that Xavier had reclined his upon.
       “Well, now, ask away, Mrs. Stayton,” said Maxie, eager to be the center of attention.
       “When we met in the hair salon, you told us that the countess has a sister in New York. Can you tell me more about her?”
       The woman’s dark eyes appeared rather lifeless as she chose her words. “I’m a tad embarrassed to admit it, but what I know about her is all from eavesdropping.”
      I gave a friendly smile and shrugged. “Better than a gossip column.”
       The woman’s large head bobbed up and down. “So true. Well, before I went to the salon, we saw Mr. Farquhar having breakfast alone. He was talking to the steward; his conversation was really quite overly familiar, and he made mention of his wife’s sister being a twin. He had the gall to even admit that he couldn’t imagine two of them.
      “Well, once he left, I waved the steward over and asked him about the countess’s sister. She’d contacted Dominika, wanting to see her after all these years. Alisa, yes, that is her name; she’s kept her identity a secret in America. I don’t know why; if I was a countess, it would be no secret.”
       “I agree.” Of course, I hoped she mistook the meaning on what part of her statement I agreed with. Maxie Beaumont would be hard pressed to keep anything secret. 
       Her dark eyes glinted with satisfaction. She asked in a pitchy tone, “Was my information helpful?”
      “Extremely.” As I stood, I surveyed the lovely room once more. “Thank you, Mrs. Beaumont.”
      Once standing outside of Cabin A-1, I took from my purse the little snuff box I carried and extracted a clove. I savored the taste for a moment before proceeding inside our cabin.
       I had only just closed the door when there was a rap upon it. I