Professor Henry Longworth had not intended to go to Celia’s third presentation, however after his lecture was finished and he had had a quick lunch, he decided to go. He got to the auditorium just a few minutes before Celia was introduced and stayed at the back until just before the program was set to begin.
When he saw Brenda come in, he shrank against the wall. The last thing he needed was to be subjected to her tiresome comments during the jewelry discussion. He waited until she had settled into a seat before he circumnavigated and took a seat as far away as humanly possible.
When he sat down, he took a good look around. To his chagrin, Celia had almost twice the audience he had had for his talk. She’s talking about jewelry, base baubles, he thought. I’m talking about the Bard, the finest writer the world has ever known!
Jealous? I admit I am, he told himself. Nevertheless, she is a rather nice young woman. Is she poor Cordelia, falsely accused and misunderstood, or is she Lady Macbeth, a cold killer encased in lovely femininity? he mused.
He recognized that he was engaging in his favorite dalliance, trying to decide if anyone would guess who murdered Lady Em.
By the end of Celia’s lecture, he was sure no one would suspect her. Then who would people suspect?
He looked around. How about Brenda Martin? There she was, sitting five rows ahead of him and far to his left. He thought of how she had bolted up from the table after the Captain’s announcement that Lady Haywood had died in her sleep. But then she had returned only a few minutes later. It was obvious that what should have been distressing news, that her employer had died, had not affected her appetite. To his disappointment she did not discuss what had happened when she reached the suite. Of course, by then speculation was widely available on news sites that Lady Em had been murdered and her famous necklace stolen.
He glanced over at Brenda inadvertently and caught her eye. I’d love to read your mind, he thought. I wonder what I’d find there. False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
When the hour ended, he stood up with the others, waited until Brenda had left the auditorium, then sauntered out with the few remaining guests. He did not feel any need for company and went directly to his suite. There he opened the bar and made himself a gin martini. With a sigh of satisfaction, he settled in the club chair, put his feet on the hassock, and began to sip.
This trip may be crazy, he thought, but even so it does have all the amenities they promised. And a murder on board is such an interesting plot twist. He began to laugh.