Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [16]
The boat was certainly overloaded with experts, or at least with Ph.D.s. When my name was announced I followed Dr Gordon’s example, rising and subsiding without comment but with a modest smile.
I was the last of the staff to be introduced. A babble of conversation broke out as several of the crewmen started setting up a slide projector and screen, and Sweet exclaimed, ‘So it’s Dr Bliss? We are honoured! I have always been fascinated by Islamic art. Tell me – ’
I got quickly to my feet ‘If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’m going to sneak out for a smoke before the lecture starts. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.’
Several other sinners followed me. Smoking wasn’t allowed in the lounge during lectures, and it was only permitted in a small walled-off area at other times. I was rather proud of myself for having realized that this habit, which is approximately as socially acceptable as spitting in public, might come in handy if I needed to extricate myself from a sticky situation. Avoiding the other lepers, who were clustered defensively at the rail, I walked on till I found myself alone.
But not for long. ‘Permit me,’ said a too-familiar voice. A lighter materialized in front of me. The hand holding it was equally familiar, though it wasn’t as well-tended as usual. The knuckles were scraped and rough. He must have run into a pyramid or something. Or slammed his fist into something? Maybe I had shaken that cultivated cool of his, as he had shaken mine. I’d have loved to think so. Taking a firm grip on my temper, I inhaled, coughed, and turned.
‘Where’s Schmidt?’ he asked.
I had assumed he’d want to have a private word with me, and I had carefully composed sarcastic (but very cool) replies to the questions I thought he’d ask. Waste of time. I should have known he wouldn’t start out with anything as obvious as ‘What are you doing here?’ Caught off guard, I told the truth. ‘Uh – in Amsterdam. Some rich Dutchman is considering offering the museum his antique-jewellery collection.’
‘Oh, jolly good,’ John said, not so enigmatically. His eyes moved from my face to the V of my dress. Reflexively my hand closed over the locket.
John’s lip curled. It was one of his better sneers. ‘Don’t bother switching it on.’
‘I already did. How did you know?’
‘It’s a tasteless trinket, my dear. Not your style.’
I bit my lip to keep from swearing. He was fighting dirty, hitting below the belt where it hurt the most. Had he seen the thin gold chain under the heavier chain that held the locket? Almost certainly. But it had been a shot in the dark; he couldn’t possibly know I was wearing the little enamelled rose he had given me, because I had tucked it securely down under, out of sight. That trinket was not tasteless; it was an exquisite example of antique Persian goldsmith’s work. I wasn’t wearing it for sentimental reasons. I was wearing it because I didn’t want to leave it lying around where someone might see it.
John’s eyes shifted. ‘You’re on the wrong track, Vicky,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t know what imbecile impulse persuaded you to join this cruise, but I strongly suggest you accept my assurance that it is nothing more and nothing less than it appears to be.’
‘A romantic honeymoon?’ I inquired evenly.
‘With the girl who swept me off my feet,’ said John.
He had seen her coming and pitched his voice so she would hear the last sentence. Laughing, she slid her arm through his and leaned against him.
‘Isn’t he a dear? Sorry to disturb you, darling, but the lecture is about to start.’
John gave me a smile that went nowhere near his eyes. ‘That’s just an excuse. She doesn’t approve of my habits.’
Mary shook her head. ‘I don’t approve of your smoking, no. It’s so dangerous.’
‘Not nearly so dangerous as certain other habits,’ said Mary’s husband.
I declined Mary’s invitation to join them, claiming I wanted another cigarette. The only drawback was that I had to let John light it for me and pretend not to notice his amusement when I tried to inhale without turning purple. After