CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Our tablemates cleansed the palate after Leah’s display at the pool.

Catherine filled us in on all the details of how Coral and her husband had been flown to the island to catch up with the cruise once doctors in Gibraltar determined the ankle was her only true injury.

“Apparently they couldn’t wait to get rid of her, either,” she whispered.

Coral’s plaints dominated the Valkyries’ table, growing louder with more drinks. Maybe she was on drugs that didn’t mix well with alcohol. Maybe it was just her.

The Marry-Go-Round table was largely quiet, with Odette and Wardham carrying the conversation, without the couple from the first few nights, who had won a small table to themselves in a corner and looked happy.

For three full days and most of a fourth, I had the good fortune to be spared any live demonstration of Leah’s patterns.

After La Palma, we started six straight days of cruising, otherwise known as bliss.

I know some cruisers enjoy all the activities possible on the ship.

I enjoy the lack of activities. And I’m a dynamo compared to Aunt Kit. Give the woman a sea view, a good book, and something to drink (alcoholic or not) and she was set for days. Actually, the drink was optional.

Come to think of it, so was the sea view. Though it clearly did relax her.

Heck, these days of cruising were even starting to relax Petronella.

I spent time in the pool, chatted with friends made on the excursions, read copiously, wrote long emails to Aunt Kit describing all the characters I’d encountered, somewhat shorter emails to my family skipping over all the characters I’d encountered, and enjoyed Eristo reaching new cuteness heights with his towel creatures, including an elephant and a sea turtle that made a great pillow.

The only fly in the ointment of those easy days was the unnamed earworm.

The next time I heard those musicians, I’d ask the name.

On that fourth evening of cruising, Leah appeared to be in fine spirits at dinner. No, that might be misleading, because she spent considerable time in dark contemplation of the table usually occupied by the Valkyries and their husbands. It was empty tonight, presumably they were eating at one of the specialty restaurants. But she did not snarl or snap at anyone at her table that I noticed. Oh, a few parries at the waiter, but nothing serious.

Her tablemates appeared to chat amiably around her.

As we did at our table.

Our conversation slowed our eating, as it did every night, which was fine with me.

My years with Aunt Kit reinforced a family tendency to linger. She savored a meal, especially dessert. She didn’t talk about it often, but I gathered she’d had lean days — and years — early in her writing career.

This habit offered a side benefit — no backup at the elevators when we left, because the crowds had departed.

Petronella hurried ahead of me out of the dining room. She worried the wait staff might reprimand her for holding them up.

I did say cruising was starting to relax Petronella, some.

Bob and Catherine went one way to take in a show. Petronella and I headed for the elevators.

The banks of elevators outside the dining room were in four sets of three, forming a rectangle, with one passageway dividing them longways and a second dividing them shortways. Where the passageways intersected, Leah stood, leaning on her cane, looking toward one set of elevator doors, which were blocked from our view by the nearer set.

Her voice rose harsh and sharp.

“…better change your tune toward me fast—”

I picked up my pace to see who she was talking to. Petronella stepped in front of me, I connected with her back.

“Oh, I’m sorry. So sorry. Forgive me,” Petronella nattered, covering several of Leah’s angry words.

“—worst cabin onboard seems like a palace compared to a prison cell—”

Prison cell?

I took hold of Petronella’s shoulders to hold her in place to get around her to the right.

“—was in your way when the cruise started, but sure wasn’t when it was over.”

A strangled sound, unrecognizable as male or female, much less an identity, didn’t stop Leah.

“You think you’re so smart, but I know what I know. You better—”

Petronella stepped to the left, directly in front of me again. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. I am sorry.”

“—not give me a hard time or everybody will know. Including the police.”

I half shoved Petronella and got to the open area where the passageways intersected in time to see the furthest of the elevator doors sliding closed, with no hope of seeing an occupant.

Leah was the only other person visible.

“Oh, I thought that was your voice,” Petronella said cheerfully to Leah as she joined us.

“I’m going to my room.” Leah turned her back on us to punch a button, another elevator door opened immediately.

“Of course, of course,” Petronella said. “I like to freshen up after dinner, too. Makes one feel much more…refreshed.”

She spoke the last word to the closed elevator door.

Not before Leah gave me a dark glare.