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

good fortune to see you again.”
    “Hello,” I said.
    “And Mr. Jones,” Kim said, acknowledging Haggerty, who stood and shook his hand.
    “This is Richard and Marcia Kensington,” I told Kim, “and Mr. Harrison Flynn.”
    Richard simply nodded; his wife smiled. Flynn stood and gave Kim a hearty greeting, offering a large, calloused hand that engulfed Kim’s smaller, almost delicate one.
    “My apologies for interrupting your dinner,” Kim said. “But perhaps we’ll have the opportunity to enjoy your company later this evening.” He looked at me.
    “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