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

feeling was clearly mutual. Michael had obviously succeeded in establishing a flirtatious relationship with her.
    “You, Jessica?” Michael asked.
    “I think not,” I said. “I read in the program that the ship’s resident string quartet is performing this evening in the Chart Room, followed by a jazz trio. I’m in the mood for listening music, rather than dancing music.”
    “Mind company?” Harry Flynn asked.
    “I’d love it,” I said.
    We caught the end of the quartet’s performance and waited for the jazz trio to get set up on a small bandstand. Harry took advantage of the lull in the music to tell me a story about how he’d personally encountered pirates off the African coast, and how he and the rest of the crew had managed to fend them off. It was a gripping tale, and I hung on every word.
    As the trio began to play its first tune, “Autumn Leaves,” a song I’ve always loved, I saw a familiar figure enter the room. Kiki Largent was obviously feeling better and had changed her mind about going to her cabin. I thought nothing of it, until a second familiar person walked in not far behind her. Then I sat up straight and took notice. It was Uri, the intelligence agent who’d followed Michael and me in London. What was he doing here? Was he still tailing Michael?
    Harry noted my new focus and joined me in looking in their direction.
    “Appears that she’s recovered,” he said. “Maybe she found a tree to sit under.” He laughed at his own joke.
    I raised my shoulder and twisted in my seat, hoping they wouldn’t notice me. I must have succeeded because they both walked past without a sideward glance in our direction. Kiki moved with purpose, as though she wanted to get someplace in the shortest time possible without breaking into a run. Uri, who’d replaced his long black coat with a gray sport jacket worn over a black polo shirt, but wearing his yarmulke, plodded after her. I hadn’t realized when seeing him in London just how big a man he was. His bearlike physique made it difficult for him to go unnoticed, but there were so many people in the bar, perhaps he was successful in concealing himself from his quarry.
    “Would you excuse me for a few minutes, Harry?” I said.
    “Of course. The powder room?”
    “Ah, yes.”
    “Do you know where the term ‘powder room’ comes from?”
    “No, I—”
    “It has nothing to do with a place where women can retreat to powder their faces.”
    Kiki had stopped just outside the door to the room near the photo shop, where cameras and other photographic paraphernalia were sold. Uri turned as if suddenly interested in the musicians.
    “The name originated in forts where certain rooms were designated as dry storage areas for gunpowder,” Harry said. “I remember once when a woman mistook the sign over a door in an old fort as an indication that even back then they were concerned with providing proper accommodations for the female sex.”
    “Fascinating,” I said, meaning it, but anxious to see where Kiki and Uri were headed. “Please excuse me.”
    “Of course,” Harry said, rising as I vacated my seat. “I have a nephew who’s a jazz musician. I’m especially fond of the music.”
    I went to the Chart Room’s entrance but hung back so that I could watch Uri tail Kiki without them seeing me. Kiki moved into the photo shop. Uri followed, pretending to peruse cameras in a display case. I fell in behind.
    Kiki stopped and looked around, as though unsure where to go next, or possibly to see that she wasn’t being followed. Uri turned his back to her. So did I. She then walked away in the direction of Sir Samuel’s wine bar, a tribute to Cunard’s founder, Samuel Cunard, with Uri in pursuit. I debated continuing. I didn’t want to leave Harry Flynn alone for too long. But he seemed the understanding type, and also appeared to have settled in nicely to enjoy the jazz. He didn’t need me for that.
    The three of us proceeded through the Mayfair Shops