“That will be all,” she said toLondon. “You may go.”
As anxious as she was to get awayfrom Audrey Bolton, London felt too nonplussed to even move for a moment ortwo.
She saw that her little group ofpassengers was still standing with the others who had gathered to hear Emil Waldmüller’s lecture. Some of them had apparently picked updrinks from the little café near the pool on the ship’s bow, and they allappeared cheerfully attentive. Even Sir Reggie was sitting there tilting hishead as if fascinated by every word the man had to say.
London had always admired thetall, dark-haired ship’s historian. He was a handsome man in a rather bookishstyle, and at the beginning of the tour she had found herself developingsomething of a crush on him. His intelligence and knowledge were impressive,and his sophisticated Old World manners could be charming, despite his tendencytoward haughty aloofness.
Nevertheless, London had decidedshe should not get romantically involved with either the German historian orwith the Australian chef, a man she found attractive in quite a different way.She was determined to stay focused on her job. If this very first Epoch WorldCruise Lines riverboat tour wasn’t successful, the company would probably foldand her own future prospects would become quite murky. She might even be facedwith the prospect of returning to Connecticut and settling down like her sisterhad. London had chosen to embark on this new adventure, and she very muchwanted it to continue.
She stepped closer to the group tohear what Emil was saying, but just as she got there, the listenersbroke into a round of applause of appreciation, and Emil took a modest littlebow. His lecture was obviously over, and his audience headed off in differentdirections.
“I’m sorry I missed what you had to say,” London told him.
Emil looked at her with an even more distant and preoccupiedexpression than she’d seen on his scholarly features before.
“You did not miss very much,” he replied rather formally. “I wasjust pointing out the Veste Oberhaus, the medieval fortress overlooking thecity. I was also giving a short account of the city’s history—its origins as aCeltic settlement, how it became a Roman colony, how it became a religiouscenter for the Holy Roman Empire, its role in medieval trade and commerce, and… well, et cetera, et cetera, and so on and so forth, and …”
He added with a haughty smirk, “I believe the American expressionis ‘yada yada.’ He stood there for a moment, as if unsure what to say next.Then he spoke curtly, “And now, if you will excuse me, I must get back to thelibrary.”
He fairly brushed London aside and headed toward the stairway.
As she turned and watched Emil march away, London wondered if sheshould hurry after him. She knew she had annoyed him with her theories aboutthe tangled mysteries they had encountered. But he had actually helped hersolve Mrs. Klimowski’s murder by recognizing the true value of a stolen object,which no one else had thought important.
London looked down at Sir Reggie, who had come over to her side.
“Why do you suppose he’s acting like that?” she asked the dog.
The furry little terrier let out a slight grumble, as if he wasalso baffled by Emil’s behavior.
As the dog gazed up at her with big brown eyes, looking much morelike a teddy bear than like a canine, London wondered how Audrey Bolton couldpossibly dislike him. And why had she thought that he might be vicious?
Of course, she reminded herself, it was true that Sir Reggie hadtaken a good nip at the pinkie finger of a man who had attacked her. Andearlier on, he had tripped up a killer who was trying to escape. This dog mighthave started off life as Sir Reginald Taft, show dog and handbag pet, when he’dbelonged to Mrs. Klimowski. But since he’d been with London, he’d turned into alively and handy companion.
She bent down and petted Sir Reggie, thinking again about the historian’sunexpected coolness.
I guess it doesn’t help that I actually suspected Emil ofmurder, London reminded herself.
But she’d only suspected him slightly and briefly—and withjustification. After all, she’d had to consider a lot of people and a lot ofpossibilities.
He’s not the only person I was wrong about, Londonthought. What’s important is who I was right about.
“Well, there’s not much I can do about it right now, I guess,”London told Sir Reggie.
She stood up and took out her cell phone to check for messages.Sure enough, she’d gotten three texts since the last time she’d checked.
The first one read: “Please find us a fourth right away.”
A fourth what? she wondered.
Then she recognized the name of the sender as one of the ship’smost enthusiastic card players. Two other names were listed at the end of thebrief message, so they obviously needed a fourth player for a game of bridge.London ran several names through her mind and texted one of them to see if shewas available.
The next text was from a couple who had decided they wanted tochange the décor of their stateroom. Failing that, they wanted to move toanother room. Well, all the staterooms were booked solid, but she’d go down andtalk to the unhappy pair and see if housekeeping could accommodate some aspectof their desires.
Then there was the singer who wanted to perform in the boat’slounge and was looking for an accompanist. Seeing who that was from, Londonsmiled. She’d be happy to help keep that particular singer occupied.
“Come on, Sir Reggie,” London said to her dog as she headedtoward the stairway. “We’ve got to arrange a little redecorating and also setup an accompanist for our friendly onboard kleptomaniac.”
CHAPTER THREE
When London walked into the ship’s Amadeus Lounge later thatevening, she was hoping she had settled all of the issues for that day. Thebridge game had worked out fine, and the would-be redecorators had settled forswitching the artwork in their stateroom for a set of different pictures. But shewas still uncertain about the event that was soon to take place. Although shehad found the requested accompanist, she was uneasy about what
