“Was he?” Elsie asked eagerly. “Ihappened to see you and that Australian hunk heading away from the festivaltogether. So tell me—what happened then?”
London rolled her eyes at Elsie’snosiness.
“Nothing happened,” she said.
“Why do I find that hard tobelieve?”
“It didn’t.”
Elsie glared at London as if sheknew better.
London sighed. She knew that Elsiewas remarkably perceptive and usually helpful, but she didn’t want to discusshow close she and Bryce had come to sharing their first kiss before disasterhad struck. At least, not here at a breakfast table with the captain.
Elsie took one last bite of herbreakfast and put her silverware down.
“Well, I don’t have time totorture the truth out of you right now,” she hissed. My bar staff is floodedwith orders for hangover cures.”
Before her friend could go, Londonwhispered, “Uh, Elsie …”
“Well?”
“Do I … still smell like beer?”
Elsie sniffed and grimacedslightly.
“Now that you mention it … maybe alittle.”
London stifled another sigh.
At least I can count on her tobe honest, she thought.
Elsie wagged her finger at Londonand said, “We’ve still got some talking to do.”
Then she got up and left therestaurant.
London sat there, uneasilylistening to the captain’s side of the conversation with the CEO. The part thatshe could hear was not particularly encouraging.
Neither was the wrinkled brow onthe captain’s forehead.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
By the time Captain Hays finished the conversation with CEOLapham, his expression was one of complete bewilderment. London couldn’tremember ever seeing the captain look so mystified.
What had the CEO said to him?
But as the captain put his cell phoneback in his pocket, he looked at her and smiled cheerfully.
“Well, hello there, London!” hesaid. Pulling out a treat of his own and tossing it to Sir Reggie, he added, “Andyou too, my aristocratic friend.”
He asked London, “How are youdoing this morning? Yesterday was rather hard for you, I’m sure. Did you get agood night’s sleep?”
“It was fine,” she replied, notexactly truthfully. She hoped to find out what was on the CEO’s mind thismorning instead of discussing yesterday’s events.
“Excellent,” Captain Hays said. “Asit happens, I just got off the phone with Jeremy Lapham.”
London nodded and looked at himattentively.
The captain added, “He said hetalked to you yesterday.”
“Yes, he did,” London replied,wondering whether she had said something wrong during that odd conversation.
“Well, I’m glad to say he’s comingup with excellent ideas concerning how to deal with our run of bad luck.Fortunately he doesn’t think we’ll need to skip any of our planneddestinations. But he’s going to offer vouchers and discounts, deals for mealsand drinks and services and such, that will sweeten the trip for ourpassengers. It will cost money, of course, and it will be hard on Epoch WorldCruise Lines. But it may help pull our company through—as long as nobody elsegets killed, I suppose.”
London breathed a sigh of relief.It sounded like the CEO was just busy taking care of everything.
But that still didn’t explain thecaptain’s apparent perplexity.
A waiter came up to the table, andshe ordered her usual favorite breakfast of Eggs Benedict. She kept glancingaround, looking not only for Audrey but also for Bryce. She didn’t see eitherof them.
Then Captain Hays cleared histhroat as if preparing to bring up an awkward subject.
“Uh, London … when you spoke toMr. Lapham yesterday, did he bring up any … well, rather unorthodox theoriesabout recent events?”
“Yes, I suppose you could say that,sir,” London said.
“And did they pertain to …celestial influences?”
London nodded as solemnly as shecould manage. She had to stifle a giggle at the idea that it was the CEO’sunusual interests that had bewildered the captain, not some kind of bad newsfor the tour.
“Yes, he spoke to me of similarmatters,” the captain said. “What was your, eh, assessment of his ideas?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Londonsaid. “I guess I’ve never really given a lot of thought to astrology.”
“Neither have I,” the captain said.Then he straightened up and continued in his brisk English fashion, “Mustn’t beclosed-minded, eh? As far as either one of us knows, there might be somethingto it. Jeremy Lapham surely must know what he’s doing. He’s been in thisbusiness a lot longer than you or me, so he’s got a pretty good idea of whatworks and what doesn’t. Perhaps we should get our charts done ourselves one ofthese days, what do you think?”
“Maybe,” London said with a shrug.
The captain leaned across thetable toward London.
“But if it’s all right with you,”he added in a confidential tone, “I’d really rather keep the more mysticalcontents of our conversations with Mr. Lapham to ourselves. People might …well, misunderstand.”
“I agree,” London said.
“Excellent,” Captain Hays said.
Then he pointed to Bob, whoappeared to be asleep, and said, “Meanwhile, Mr. Lapham seems content to leaveinvestigative matters to our master sleuth over there.”
Captain Hays shook his head andadded, “I wish I could share Mr. Lapham’s confidence in Mr. Turner. I sure hopethe police here in Bamberg are better at their work. By the way, it’s lucky we’vemet this morning. Detektiv Erlich called me this morning and said he wanted tomeet me in my stateroom. He also wants to speak to you, I believe, and one ortwo other people. Could you come to my quarters as soon as you finishbreakfast?”
“I’ll do that,” London said,hoping her dread didn’t show in her face.
“Jolly good,” the captain said,wiping his lips and setting down his napkin. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
Tossing Sir Reggie another treat,he got up from the table and walked out of the restaurant.
“Reggie, you’re going to get fatif people keep spoiling you,” London said.
Sir Reggie yapped cheerfully as ifhe considered this an excellent idea.
When London’s breakfast arrived,she savored the cup of rich coffee and the delicious Eggs Benedict. She alwaysenjoyed the taste of eggs with a thick slice of Canadian style bacon, served onan English muffin flavored with rich and buttery Hollandaise sauce. But therewas something special about the Eggs Benedict that came out of Bryce’s kitchen.
Maybe it was something about thespices in the recipe—perhaps a substitute for the usual touch of cayennepepper, or just the right touch of real paprika.
Maybe I should ask Bryce aboutit sometime.
Or maybe she shouldn’t.
Maybe some mysteries are best leftunsolved, she thought as she savoredanother
