Murder [and Baklava] (A European Voyage #1)- Blake Pierce Page 0,19
the guests out or whether he wanted her to go with them.
“There’s plenty of time for a dinner in Budapest,” she said. “It’s up to the passengers whether they eat in the ship’s restaurant or go ashore.”
Emil continued, “Although I myself have been here many times and could show them about, they expressly asked for you to join us.”
He shrugged a little.
“I understand,” London said with a smile. “Actually, an outing would be good for me too. I’ve been kind of envying our passengers. At least they’ve had some time to explore. I just got here in time to go right to work, and I haven’t had a moment go anywhere. I was afraid I wouldn’t get to see anything more of Budapest than the view through my cab window and from right here on this deck.”
“So you will lead our group?” Emil asked.
“I’ll be glad to,” she said shyly. “But would you come along to give me a hand? I’m sure your knowledge of Budapest is much more up-to-date than mine, especially when it comes to choosing a place for dinner.”
Emil smiled, looking a bit shy himself.
“I was hoping you would ask,” he told her.
London felt a twinge of interest. Did she detect a hint of attraction from him?
She realized that her uniform felt rumpled and even a bit sweaty. She’d been wearing it all afternoon as she’d dashed about helping passengers get settled. There were several fresh uniforms in her closet, but she knew that Epoch company directives actually encouraged her to dress normally for social occasions ashore. Suddenly she looked forward to getting into something less severe.
“Give me a few minutes,” she said. “I’d like to freshen up. I can meet you and the group at the gangway.”
“I look forward to it,” Emil agreed. “I shall gather the company.”
Feeling a bit giddy about the coming evening, London took the elevator down to the Allegro deck. In her cabin, she changed out of her uniform into a more appropriate outfit for an evening in the city—a midi-length skirt, a brightly patterned tunic, a long lightweight sweater, and some shoes with sensible heels. She brushed her bright auburn hair and made a final check in the full-length mirror.
You’ll do, she decided.
Then London took the elevator up to the Menuetto deck, where she found Emil and the group of about ten passengers waiting for her in the reception area. She recognized all their faces, of course, having greeted each of them a while earlier. Walter and Agnes Shick were here, along with Gus and Honey Jarrett.
Then she was startled by a familiar growl. London turned and saw that Mrs. Klimowski had arrived—and she was carrying that bundle of long hair in her leather handbag. Sir Reginald Taft was staring at London, still looking quite unhappy.
The woman was again weighed down with furs and overloaded with jewelry, including a pair of massive earrings that made her look positively top heavy. Most conspicuous was what was surely a valuable pendant hanging at her throat by a gold chain. It consisted of a large ruby decorated around the edges with small diamonds, all mounted in a gold setting.
London stifled a sigh. She clearly saw that she had a problem on her hands.
But she knew that she had to choose her words carefully.
“Mrs. Klimowski, I’m afraid I can’t recommend that you go out this evening like …”
Her voice faded.
“Like what?” Mrs. Klimowski replied.
“Well, with so much jewelry, and …”
“And?”
London couldn’t help but hesitate.
Surely she knows what I mean, she thought.
Then another familiar voice spoke up.
“I believe she is referring to your dog, madam.”
The speaker this time was the mysterious, black-clad Cyrus Bannister, who was gazing at Mrs. Klimowski dourly.
“I can’t imagine why,” Mrs. Klimowski snapped.
As if in agreement, the dog bared his teeth and growled.
Bannister’s lips twisted into a very subtle sneer.
“Madam, if you don’t mind my saying so, those valuables make you a veritable moving target for thieves. And your dog won’t be welcome in many of the places we might choose to visit.”
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Klimowski said. “I’ve been here for two whole days now, and I’ve come and gone exactly as I’ve pleased, dressed just as I am and with my precious Sir Reginald cradled in my arms.”
Bannister inhaled sharply.
He was clearly about to escalate his criticism of Mrs. Klimowski. The last thing London wanted right now was an altercation.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Klimowski,” she said hastily, before Bannister could speak. “I’m sure we’ll manage somehow.”