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

jewelry.”
    “Oh, and have you designed what you’re wearing?” I asked, noting the elaborate garnet and diamond necklace set off by the green silk of her dress.
    “Yes,” she said brightly, her fingers fluttering near the diamond pendant. “Do you like it?”
    “It’s beautiful,” I said, “but I would have thought pieces designed by such a young woman would be more modern. Your necklace doesn’t look modern at all. In fact, it looks like an antique.”
    “I adore antique jewelry. I’ve collected antique pieces my whole life.” She shot a wink at Kiki, who dropped her head and focused on buttering her roll. “They have so much more depth and grandeur, don’t you think? I like to think my work would have fit in in the days of royal courts, pre-French Revolution, of course. Gems and jewelry from those days are my inspirations, although I confess I love all jewelry. I’ve always been attracted to sparkly things.”
    “How fascinating,” I said, turning to her friend. “And you, Kiki? Are you a designer, too?”
    “No,” she said. “I’m Jennifer’s assistant.”
    “I don’t know what I’d do without her,” said Jennifer.
    “We can all use a good assistant,” Haggerty said. “Makes life considerably easier, doesn’t it?”
    “I have some antique jewelry that my mother left me,” Harry said, slipping off a small diamond ring he wore on his pinkie. “I managed to keep this out of my last wife’s hands during the settlement. Not nearly as valuable as your jewelry, of course, Jennifer.” He turned to Haggerty. “But maybe Wendell here could tell me more about it. I’ve always wondered about its origin.”
    Michael had been sipping his drink when Harry addressed him. He sputtered and coughed, until Harry pounded him on the back. “You okay, old man?” Harry asked.
    Recovering, Michael nodded. “Yes, of course. Thank you so much. Wrong pipe, I fear. You were saying?”
    “I was asking you about my mother’s ring,” he said, holding it up.
    Michael cleared his throat and nodded. “Movie memorabilia,” he said.
    “I beg your pardon.”
    “Posters, playbills mostly,” Michael said. “My specialty. I’m not up to speed on”—he waved his hand toward Harry—“antique jewelry.”
    “I see,” Harry said, returning the ring to his finger. “Don’t know how you manage to have a shop with such a narrow focus. You must be a superb salesman.”
    “Wendell has very special clientele,” I put in.
    “He must have,” Jennifer said. “By the way, Harry, that ring is Art Deco, platinum and diamond. It’s pre-1940 and worth about twenty-five hundred dollars.”
    “It is? How nice to know.”
    We were well into our entrées when Kiki announced that she wasn’t feeling well and was going to her cabin.
    “She’s been queasy ever since we left port,” Jennifer explained as Kiki excused herself and left.
    “She needs a stabilizer,” Harry offered.
    “Stabilizer?” Haggerty said.
    “Half port, half brandy,” Harry explained. “Works wonders. They call it the ‘stabilizer’ on most ships’ bar menus. Of course, Sir Isaac Newton had the best remedy. He said that the perfect solution for seasickness was to sit under a tree.”
    This led to a discussion of how to prevent seasickness: Dramamine, wristbands, or ginger. The results were mixed.
    I was well aware that unlike the previous evening when Kim made a point of coming to our table and suggesting we continue the night as a group, he stayed away this evening. I can only describe the mood at his table as somber, and at one point Betty snapped at one of the bodyguards, who left in a huff.
    “Well,” Haggerty said after we’d finished our desserts and coffee, “off to the Queens Room for more dancing?” He directed the question at Jennifer, who, it seemed to me, had become smitten with my dashing friend from MI6. She had laughed at every one of his quips, including those that weren’t funny, a sure sign of infatuation. The