Anything Goes

financial matters. This Winningham wasn’t as competent as his father and Horatio knew it, but put some very minor accounts in his bank out of old loyalty to the family.“
    “Was he a fit man? Could he have killed Uncle Horatio?“ Lily asked bluntly.
    “No. He’s quite badly crippled with arthritis. Walks with two canes. Horatio ordered that he be the first one put on the dinghy because of his frailty.”
    Lily wondered if Horatio’s intent in saving Winningham might have been to make sure he got another chance to make an accusation of some sort against him. But she didn’t say anything. He was first on the boat; that and his affliction pretty much removed him from suspicion.
    “And who is Fred Eggers?“ she asked.
    “How do you know these names?“
    “I read the newspaper accounts.“
    “Fred Eggers had been Horatio’s primary stockbroker back in the twenties. A bit younger than the rest of the guests. They had served each other well, Eggers and Horatio. A profitable business relationship for both of them. But in early twenty-nine, Horatio got out of the stock market almost entirely. Fred was upset by the decision. It meant the loss of significant commissions. He couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see the impending disaster, while Horatio thought the market was spinning completely out of control and was a dangerous investment. They had words.“
    “Why was he in the boating party then?“
    “He’d gotten wind of it by way of Winningham and just showed up uninvited. I suppose he thought it was to be a purely social occasion and would give him the opportunity to mend fences with Horatio.”
    “He forced himself into the group? And Uncle Horatio allowed it?“
    “To my surprise. Eggers was still hanging on by his fingernails. Perhaps Horatio felt sorry for him.“
    “Did it appear that Egger’s ploy to ingratiate himself was working?“ Lily asked.
    Mr. Prinney smiled. An almost wicked smile. “Fred Eggers was the worst sailor in the world. He was turning green before the boat was fifty feet from shore. He spent the whole trip hanging over the rail, sick as a dog.“
    “But he was younger. Could he have pulled himself together well enough to make an attack on Uncle Horatio?“
    “I suppose so. But keep in mind, Miss Brewster, that your uncle had not invited him along on the trip. So he probably wasn’t in any danger from whatever Horatio intended to reveal.“
    “Unless secondhand,“ Lily said.
    Mr. Prinney gave her a questioning look.
    “If he was friends with the person Uncle Horatio was going to accuse of something illegal or dishonest, he might have been involved as well.”
    Mr. Prinney studied her for a moment, then smiled again. A much nicer smile this time. “Miss Brewster, you are much more cynical than I would have guessed. And much more intelligent.”
    Lily didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.
     

Chapter 18
     
    Lily` was saved from having to respond by a knock on the door. Mrs. Prinney said, “I’ve been looking all over for you. Breakfast is ready. Though it’s a good deal closer to lunchtime.”
    Lily suddenly realized she was starving. She hadn’t eaten a decent bite since luncheon the day before. She’d been on her way to find something in the kitchen to eat last night when she nearly stumbled over Billy Smith. She’d have to go back in the kitchen to clear her mind of that vision. And the sooner the better.
    She followed Mrs. Prinney. “Is there anything I can help with?“ she asked, glancing warily at the wide wooden planks of the floor where Billy had died. She half-expected the pool of blood to still be there. But what she could see of that area was clean and someone had found yet another throw rug to cover the bloodstains.
    Mrs. Prinney had gone to the opposite side of the room to pick up a tray with the sugar, cream and butter. Without turning around, she said, “It’ll come out. I scrubbed most of the stain this morning. Might take me a few more days’ work.“
    “Thank you, Mrs. Prinney. What an awful job. You should have hired someone to come in and do that.“
    “Oh, there, there. When I was a girl, we’d butcher hogs every November. I’d help my mother make blood pudding. Blood doesn’t bother me a bit. It’s all the same. Hogs, chickens or people. You have to think about it that way.“
    “I’ll try. How is Mimi?“
    “She’s coming around. You wait and see, she’ll be bright as a new penny in a few days. We just need to find