Free 34 - The Queen's Jewels by Jessica Fletcher, Donald Bain

spotted you in a crowd the first moment I saw you.”
    “You’ve also always been an inveterate flatterer.”
    He shrugged. “Part of my job description. Unlike that inaccurate old cliché, flattery will often get you far. And please call me Wendell. Too easy to have a slipup in public if you call me Michael in private.”
    “You’re changing the subject, Wendell .”
    “That I am, or at least I tried. But here’s the gist of it. Did you know, Jessica, that there were three jewel robberies in London last night?”
    “No. Oh, yes, I learned about one of them. Three?”
    “Exactly.”
    “Do you think they’re connected in some way to the theft of the Heart of India?”
    “I think that it’s a distinct possibility.”
    “Is that the juicy information you promised me?”
    He shrugged. “You know the constraints of my business. Haven’t I answered all your questions, Jessica?”
    “Not at all; you keep evading them. But what strikes me is that I’m here on this lovely ocean liner, a band playing, superb meals being served, round-the-clock entertainment, even a planetarium on board, and more than twenty-five hundred happy people I could be enjoying myself with. Instead, I meet up with an undercover intelligence agent”— Michael tipped his head to the side and grinned—“and his quarry, a man who might be a killer, financing terrorism. It’s not what I bargained for when I agreed to lecture.”
    “But you have to admit, Jessica, that it’s more interesting than spending six days putting together a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle, or taking a class in napkin folding.”
    “There are many more attractions on the ship than that,” I said. “Time for me to head to my cabin. I have a lecture to give at eleven in the morning.”
    “I’ll be there, of course, applauding your efforts.”
    As we parted at the elevator that would take me up to Deck Eleven, I asked, “What about that Israeli agent, Uri, who followed us? Is he on board, too?”
    “I haven’t seen him, but if he is, he’ll surface soon enough. He’s not especially skilled at keeping a low profile. Oh, by the way, we’ll be joined tomorrow at dinner by my new friend. Her name is Jennifer Kahn. Her traveling companion is Ms. Kiki Largent. That sour young honeymooning couple has requested a table for two, much more romantic than sitting with those of us on the wrong side of fifty. Sleep tight, dear lady. See you at breakfast.”

Chapter Eight
    Second Day at Sea
     
    H arry was alone at the table when I arrived at the Princess Grill for breakfast. He was dressed in a bright blue and green shirt worn loose over white slacks. He looked none the worse for wear after his night in the casino.
    “Enjoy a restful night?” he asked, rising as the maître d’ pulled out my chair.
    “As a matter of fact, I did. You?”
    “I always sleep well at sea,” he said, sitting again. “Did you notice? The swells are getting heavier.”
    The young officer’s weather prediction had been accurate. The glasslike surface of the Atlantic from the previous day had been replaced by deep swells; a howling wind kicked up frothy whitecaps. The captain had announced over the ship’s PA that areas of the decks would be closed until the weather improved.
    “Looks like it could become a Force Eight,” Harry said.
    “Meaning?”
    “Force Eight on the Beaufort scale. Admiral Beaufort created the scale to standardize the reporting of weather conditions. It’s been adjusted over the years, but Force Eight generally means a wind speed of between thirty and forty knots, and swells of three to four fathoms. A fathom is six feet.”
    “It doesn’t feel that bad,” I said.
    “That’s because you’re on a state-of-the-art ship, Jessica. She’s got four big stabilizers that extend to counteract any rolling motion. On some of the freighters I’ve served on, a sea like this would have us bouncing around like a cork. This lovely lady just plows through it.”
    I noticed that