the fantasy surroundings.
London’s eyes darted around the room.
“Where’s Gus?” London asked.
“He went out,” Honey said.
“What do you mean, out?”
“I mean off the ship.”
“But everybody’s supposed to stay on the ship.”
Honey shrugged with unconvincing nonchalance.
“What can I say? He left real early, before he heard that order. He said he just wanted another look around town.”
London shook her head doubtfully.
“Lying’s not your forte, Honey,” she said. “Come on, just tell me where he is.”
Before Honey could try to lie some more, Sir Reginald let out a low growl.
“What is it, boy?” London asked the dog.
The dog leaped out of her hands and dashed to the bathroom door, which was closed shut. He started barking insistently.
London pointed at the door and glared at Honey.
“He’s in there, isn’t he?” she said.
“No, really, he’s not!”
But the dog was making it abundantly clear that he was.
London knocked on the door and heard Gus reply in a frightened voice.
“Go away.”
“Gus, listen to me,” London said. “There’s a good chance the police will be knocking on this door in a few minutes. You might want to talk to me first. I might even be able to help.”
That is, if you’re not a killer, she thought.
A silence fell. Then the door opened, and Gus stepped out, looking scared and shaken. The dog jumped back up into London’s arms.
“Why were you hiding in there, anyway?” London asked.
“I think you know why,” Gus said.
London nodded. In fact, that was the reason she’d come here just now.
“In the restaurant you said, ‘I hope the old lady’s dead,’” London said. “Everyone at the table heard you say it. And I’m pretty sure somebody’s telling the police chief about it. And so are you. That’s why you’re so scared. And that’s why I came here.”
“But honest to God, I didn’t mean anything by it!” Gus exclaimed. “Look, I was just spouting off. I’m a loudmouth and a blowhard. I admit it.”
Honey let out a scoff.
“It’s about time you admitted it,” she said.
London put her hands on her hips.
“Gus, I need for you to look me in the eye and tell me whether you killed Mrs. Klimowski or not.”
“Why would I have killed her?”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
Gus stared at her with pleading eyes.
“I didn’t kill her,” he said in a stricken voice. “I swear to God I didn’t.”
Honey let out another scoff.
“He’s telling the truth,” she said. “If you think I’m a bad liar, believe me, he’s a whole lot worse.”
London stared hard at him, trying to read his expression. He certainly seemed sincere. She didn’t think he was lying. But how could she really know?
Her mind clicked away, trying to make up her mind. She remembered Gus’s anger toward Honey for helping London with the dog after Mrs. Klimowski had disappeared.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, making a fool out of me like that.”
At the time, he’d struck London as rather menacing.
But Honey apparently didn’t feel that way—neither then nor now.
But how can I be sure …?
She shook her head and muttered quietly.
“I’m no Nancy Drew.”
“Huh?” Gus said.
Honey scoffed yet again.
“The famous girl detective,” she said to Gus. “You should read a book sometime.” Then she said to London, “Who says you have to be Nancy Drew, anyway?”
“My boss,” London said.
“Oh,” Honey said. “And here I thought you were just a social director.”
I wish, London thought.
Gus sat down on the edge of the bed.
“The captain called for that Cyrus Bannister guy to come to his quarters,” Gus said. “He’s the one who’s telling on me, isn’t he? Now there’s a weird guy for you. And he and the old lady got into an argument just before she went away. If any of us killed the woman, I’ll bet he did.”
Honey rolled her eyes.
“They were just arguing about music,” she said. “It was nothing to kill anybody about.”
“You never know,” Gus said. “He might have been a ticking bomb, ready to blow up over the tiniest little thing.”
London scratched her chin thoughtfully. Was it possible that Gus was right? She’d felt uneasy about Cyrus since she’d first met him, and he certainly hadn’t liked Mrs. Klimowski—especially how she treated her dog. And he’d been sitting right next to her at lunch. Could he have slipped something into her soup or her glass of water?
Maybe, she thought. But why? Because of music?
She shook her head and muttered aloud.
“It doesn’t make any sense. None of it makes any sense.”
London was startled out of her thoughts by a loud knock at the door.
The police! she realized.
CHAPTER