34 - The Queen's Jewels (7 page)

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities to spend time together over the next six days,” I said.

“I look forward to it,” Kim said, and rejoined his party.

As the meal progressed, Richard Kensington became more sullen and noncommunicative. He seemed perpetually bored with the conversation, which became quite spirited at times. Michael Haggerty was in his usual ebullient mood, and Harry Flynn reveled in telling stories of his many years at sea, and in relating bits of wisdom.

“. . . and so I believe in the old adage that before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in his shoes. Not only will you be a mile away from the bore, you’ll also have his shoes.”

Richard wiped his mouth with his napkin and said to his wife, “Let’s go.”

“No dessert?” Flynn said. “Cunard’s sweets are reputed to be the best.”

“No, we have things to do,” Richard said, standing and pulling his wife’s chair out. I looked into her eyes and saw a certain sadness reflected in them, and resignation.

“See you tomorrow night,” I said.

Richard nodded, and we watched them walk away.

Flynn leaned close to me and said, “Not especially happy honeymooners, are they?”

“No,” I said. “Too bad.”

We’d finished our coffee and those fabulous desserts Flynn had raved about, and we were in the process of leaving when Kim Chin-Hwa and his party approached. “Might I suggest, Mrs. Fletcher, that we extend the evening with a nightcap and dancing in the Queens Room?” he said. “I understand the orchestra is excellent.”

I shook my head. “Oh, no thank you, Mr. Kim. I don’t think that—”

“Why, Jessica, the night is young,” Haggerty said. He turned to the others. “We can’t have any wet blankets, can we?” He leaned close to me and lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “Besides, Jess, I need a favor from you.”

Flynn weighed in with, “I think a nightcap and a few spins around the dance floor are exactly what we need to work off this wonderful meal.”

“I really thought that I would—”

Haggerty took my elbow and said over his shoulder, “We’ll see you there.” He guided me to the foyer.

“You’re incorrigible, Michael,” I said.

“As my dear departed mum used to say, I am difficult but adorable. Come on, now. Drinks are on me.” He continued to lead me away from the Princess Grill and the others toward the elevators, talking all the way. “It would be a crime to hide alone in your cabin and waste that lovely dress you’re wearing, Jessica.” He pushed the down button. “What do you call the color? Coral? It’s striking on you.” The elevator door opened. “Glad to be rid of that sour young couple, huh?” We stepped inside. “I like the old fellow, a real gentleman....”

We reached Deck Three and left the elevator. Music came from the direction of the Queens Room, the ship’s grand ballroom. “I bet you still do a wicked two-step, Jessica.”

I sighed and followed him into the huge, elegant room, where couples doing the fox-trot already filled the dance floor.

“Tom Craig was looking for you,” I said. “Did he reach you before you left?”

“Yes. Thanks for letting me know.”

We found a table large enough to accommodate everyone from dinner, including Mr. Kim’s party. Minutes later they joined us. His two tough-looking, expressionless associates sat together at a table two removed from ours. After drink orders had been given to the waiter, Harry Flynn addressed me: “Dance, Mrs. Fletcher?”

“Thank you, but no, Mr. Flynn,” I said through a smile. “Perhaps another time.”

“I look forward to it. And please, it’s Harry.” He looked at Betty, who turned her face away, then directed his gaze across the dance floor to where several women were seated together. “Excuse me,” he said. He crossed the floor, chatted with them for no more than a minute, then extended his arm and led one to the dance floor.

“I like his style,” Haggerty said to me.

“I think we, too, will take advantage of the music,” Kim said, rising and inviting his lovely companion to join him. Betty, whose long black hair swayed across the back of her tight-fitting red dress, attracted all eyes, male and female, as she and Mr. Kim joined the dancers.

“They make an attractive couple,” I said to Michael.

“He’s too old for her. And too short. But she’s an eyeful. I’ll give you that.”

“She was a top fashion model in Paris.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Mr. Flynn dances beautifully, very smooth.”

“Perhaps he plans to apply for a job as a gentleman host.”

“He’d make a good one,” I replied.

Many ships hire “gentlemen hosts,” whose function is to provide dance partners and social companionship for single women traveling alone. They are generally middle-aged men, although some are older. Before they’re hired, these immaculately groomed and dressed gentlemen must prove to the management that they are good dancers and conversationalists. They are required to seek out as many unaccompanied women as they can, and work under a stringent set of rules that limit their interaction to dancing and talk—nothing more—although I remember one gentleman host from a previous crossing who’d wooed a wealthy Palm Beach widow. By the time we’d reached our destination, they’d announced wedding plans.

“You said you had a favor to ask me,” I said to Michael. “I hope it’s not the same one you proposed before.”

“What do you think of Mr. Kim?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know him sufficiently well to form an opinion. He’s nice enough, I suppose.”

“He was the partner of the murder victim, Yang, who owned the Heart of India diamond.”

“Yes, I know.”

“He seems to have taken a liking to you.”

“Don’t be silly, Michael.”

“No, I mean it. This favor I’m asking of you—well, it would be a help to me if you’d get to know him better, flirt a bit, flatter him, apply that keen insight into people for which you’re known.”

“Michael, I already told you—”

“You’re a writer, Jessica. Writers are supposed to have a special understanding of what makes people tick.”

“Even writers are allowed a holiday,” I said. “Aside from my lectures, I’m on vacation. If you think that—”

Michael ignored me. “Well, well, well,” he said, eyes on the dance floor. The orchestra had changed tempos, from the fox-trot it had been playing to a rumba. “See that?” he asked, pointing to where Flynn now danced with a different woman, a statuesque blonde, whom I’d noticed earlier sitting next to a thickset woman all in black, her closely cropped hair the same color as her outfit.

“As I said, he’s quite a dancer.”

“And she’s quite a beauty.”

“She certainly is.”
And is well aware of it
, I thought as the blonde tossed her head back in a laugh, eyes flashing, hips swinging to the Latin tempo.

“I’d like to get to know her better,” Haggerty said through a devious grin.

His interest in her didn’t surprise me. Michael Haggerty, aka Wendell Jones, had always had an eye for dazzling, self-possessed women.

He smiled, stood, pulled on his lapels, and bounced up and down a few times on his toes. He leaned over and said, “You’ll excuse me, of course, Jessica. I think I must cut in on Mr. Flynn.”

M
ichael tapped Harry Flynn on the shoulder, exchanged what appeared to be a few pleasant words, and whisked the blonde out to the middle of the floor. As I watched them, Flynn rejoined me, a satisfied smile on his ruggedly handsome face.

“You look like you’re elsewhere,” I heard him say.

“What? Oh, just daydreaming.”

“Daydreaming is good,” he said, sliding into his chair. “People ought to do more of it.”

“You dance beautifully,” I said.

“Thank you for the compliment,” he said, dabbing a drop of perspiration from his upper lip with a neatly folded white handkerchief. “One of the perks of traveling the world,” he added. “I’ve learned from some of the best dancers around the globe. Of course, I was rudely interrupted. Oh, I don’t mean to sound as though your friend’s cutting in bothered me. All’s fair in love and war, especially on a dance floor. Lovely woman. Her name is Jennifer.”

“I love her dress and jewelry,” I said. “She has very good taste. Did she say what she does for a living?”

“No. Sure you don’t want to dance?”

“Not at the moment, but thank you for asking.”

“I assure you I’ll ask again before we reach the States.”

I kept my eye on Haggerty and his dancing partner while chatting with Harry. Kim and Betty were still on the dance floor.

“Do you have family?” I asked.

Harry’s face brightened, one foot tapping in rhythm to the band’s music. “I certainly do, a splendid daughter named Melanie, the apple of my eye. She’s a nurse in New York City, works with the disadvantaged. I’ve had a few wives, three to be exact, but those marriages didn’t last. Not easy for a woman to be married to a man who’s always off on a ship somewhere in the world.”

“You live in New York?”

“I really haven’t lived anywhere since my last divorce. I have a room in my daughter’s apartment in New York, but I’m seldom there. Always on the sea, it seems.”

“Are you still working?”

He shook his head. “No, but once you’ve enjoyed traveling the globe, it’s hard to break the habit. Some of the freight companies I’ve worked for give me free passage whenever I ask. Of course, traveling as a passenger on a freighter is a far cry from this magnificent ship, but I must say that I probably enjoy them more. Opulence has never been my style, although I admit that I could get used to it.”

“You seem to be very much at home on the
Queen Mary Two
,” I said.

“I’m enjoying it. I felt it was time for me to indulge myself before it’s too late.” A shadow of melancholy crossed his face but was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“I thought I’d stroll past the casino and test the waters,” he said. “Would you like to join me?”

“I think not, Harry. I’m about to call it a night. Besides, I’m not much of a gambler.”

“Smart thinking, Jessica. I hate to think of how much I’ve lost betting on some damn fool thing or other. My first captain used to say that sailors work like horses while at sea, and spend their money like asses ashore. I’m afraid that definition fits me.”

I was tempted to suggest that at his age, he should do whatever it was that gave him pleasure, but I wasn’t sure he’d take it the right way.

Kim and Betty returned to the table.

“Mrs. Fletcher?” Kim said.“May I have this dance? They’re playing ‘The Tennessee Waltz,’ one of my favorites.”

“I was just telling Harry that I’m going to retire for the night,” I said, rising.

Kim took my hand. “I insist. Just one dance.”

I allowed him to lead me away, hoping Harry wouldn’t be insulted that I’d turned him down. But he’d started up a conversation with Betty and didn’t seem to notice. Kim was shorter than I, but it didn’t pose a problem any more than it had with Betty. He was a graceful dancer, easy to follow.

“You and Betty looked as though you could be professional dancers,” I said.

“We’ve practiced,” he said. “Betty has given me ballroom dance lessons.”

“What made you interested in dancing?”

“It’s a useful skill,” he said quietly, swirling me around so that I had to concentrate on my feet instead of his answer.

We glided past where Haggerty and the stunning Jennifer were dancing. Michael smiled at me and winked. I was sure he was pleased, thinking that I’d put myself in a position to find out something constructive from Kim, but that was the last thing on my mind. Not stepping on my partner’s feet was more important to me.

Kim executed a final spin and, before I knew what was happening, pressed his hand into my back, tipped me into a quick dip, and smoothly pulled me upright.

“My goodness,” I said, laughing. “I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Dancing relaxes me,” he said as the music came to an end. He took my elbow and said as he steered me off the dance floor, “Do you intend to write about this crossing, and the fact that the partner of the murdered owner of the Heart of India was also a passenger?”

“Heavens, no. Aside from my lectures, I’m aboard purely to relax.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. I would hate to think that the unfortunate death of my partner and the theft of his precious diamond would become the basis of popular fiction.”

I was taken aback.

Up until then, he’d been a man who laughed easily, his demeanor pleasant and charming. When he said those words, however, his face darkened briefly, his eyes hard, as though to reinforce his point, but his expression immediately melted into its usual affable smile. I wondered if I had caught him in an unguarded moment.

“No offense meant, of course. Thank you for the pleasure of the dance,” he said, delivering me to the table, where Harry was preparing to leave.

“So soon?” Kim asked him.

“Off to try my luck at the craps table,” Harry replied. “I tried to convince Jessica to accompany me—I’ve always had better luck with the dice when a beautiful woman is at my side—but she’s declined.”

“Perhaps another night,” I said.

“How about you, Mr. Kim? Care to take your chances with the dice this evening?”

Kim looked at Betty, whose stern face said that the answer would be no. He shook his head at Harry, one eyebrow raised in mock regret.

“Another drink, Mrs. Fletcher?” Kim asked me.

“No, thank you,” I said, picking up my purse and making my good-byes. “I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep,” I said as Harry and I walked away.

“The motion of the ship will ensure that,” Harry said. “The seas are calm right now and the ship’s movement always lulls me to sleep. Enjoy it while you can.”

“What do you mean?”