party that she had been hired to cater, and the murder that had followed. The family concerned, as she recalled, had all had the unfortunate habit of talking about something confidential just when it was impossible not to overhear them!
So she coughed loudly as she stepped into the main salon to announce her presence, nodded pleasantly at David and Dorothy Leigh, who were the first to forsake the open air and were currently engaged in reading the morning papers, and returned to her galley.
There, she quickly set about making celery sauce, along with some egg cutlets, an asparagus dip, and a french bean and endive salad. To round off the snack (Jenny had never been able to think of a cold lunch as anything but) she made some cheese fingers and cheese and tomato ramekins. To go with it, she baked some milk loaves, as well as some wholemeal baps. All in all, a nice way to spend the morning.
It was just as well, perhaps, that she hadn’t stayed on the deck for, in the main salon, David and Dorothy Leigh were not particularly happy bunnies.
David restlessly tossed a copy of The Times onto the table, and glanced uneasily over his shoulder. It was the result of a guilty conscience, he supposed, but he couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that he was always being watched. As if the others had somehow been able to pick up on his dark thoughts and had taken to keeping an eye on him, perpetually on the lookout for any tell-tale signs of imminent criminal behaviour.
But in spite of his fears, Lucas, Gabriel and his wife were all still on the port deck, playing their silly game of quoits and taking no notice of him whatsoever.
David’s hand went automatically to his breast pocket and then just as quickly moved away again. But it was proving impossible to ignore the simple, square piece of folded paper he kept there. He could have sworn he could feel it scraping his skin and, even more alarmingly, that it was creating a warmer patch over his heart. It was all psychosomatic, of course. That, and a severe case of the jitters. In fact, he felt physically sick whenever he contemplated what was to come, and as a consequence was desperately seeking some sort of distraction to keep his mind off it.
He sighed heavily and then frowned as Dorothy’s fair head turned alertly at the sound. The eyes that met his were the colour of jade and, at that precise moment, cloudy with worry.
‘Are you all right, David?’ she asked anxiously, for about the fifth time that morning.
David Leigh forced himself to smile happily. ‘I’m perfectly fine. I don’t know why you keep asking. Naturally, I’d be a lot happier if you didn’t flirt with that silly creature, Olney.’
He had to make a concerted effort not to swear roundly at the mere mention of the man’s name, but he’d never thought it possible that a human being could hate so much. He’d certainly never thought that he, David Leigh, would have such a capacity for rage. He’d always thought of himself as a modest, fairly normal sort of a man.
Funny how you never really knew yourself.
Dorothy flushed. ‘I’m not flirting with him,’ she denied vehemently, feeling more and more sensitive on this matter. Ever since they’d come on board, Gabriel had been making a perfect nuisance of himself. ‘It’s just that no matter what I say, he twists it around, making it sound … oh, I don’t know. Smutty somehow.’ She nodded her bright head briefly in satisfaction. ‘Yes, that’s the word exactly. Smutty.’ She produced the word with a triumphant but disgusted sigh.
David snorted. ‘The man’s an animal – no, worse than that. He’s a joke.’ Once again he bit back the more ugly expletive he’d have liked to use, and forced himself to relax.
His hand lifted to check, once again, that the square piece of writing paper was still safely ensconced in his pocket. Then he suddenly realized that his wife was watching, and quickly carried on the movement upwards, determinedly lifting
J.M. Hayes
Eloisa James
Jessica Matthews
T L Gray
Andrews, Austin
Ni’chelle Genovese
Charles G. West
GJ Fortier
Emily Gale
Dave Keane