Calamity (and a Danish) by Blake Pierce

Author:Blake Pierce [Pierce, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery & Suspense, Cozy Mysteries, Women Sleuths
ISBN: 9781094372228
Google: XyEAEAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Blake Pierce
Published: 2021-08-10T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

London tried her best not to worry as she and Sir Reggie and Mr. Lapham followed along behind a group of dazed-looking passengers who were also on their way back to the Nachtmusik. Still, she couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of ending the cruise so suddenly. Even if Mr. Lapham was right about that being the best thing to do, it certainly raised many questions. Where would she go next? Where would Bryce be?

Besides, how would the passengers react?

“But first things first,” Mr. Lapham said as they arrived at the Nachtmusik’s gangway. “We owe it to the Copenhagen police to help get to the bottom of this crime—or rather this pair of crimes.”

London caught her breath. Was she going to be asked to solve yet another crime?

The CEO continued, “We’ve got to get Bob Turner on this case as soon as possible. He can work hand-in-hand with Politinspektør Quist.”

London breathed again. At least she wasn’t being asked to do the job. But as they headed up the gangway, her mind was flooded with memories of other cases that she had been forced to solve by herself.

Bob Turner had been Mr. Lapham’s handpicked “security expert,” brought aboard the Nachtmusik shortly after Mrs. Klimowski was killed back in Hungary, when the ship’s voyage was just getting underway.

Mr. Lapham had hired him partly to keep London from “playing Nancy Drew,” has he had put it. He felt protective toward London, and he didn’t want her risking her life hunting down murderers. So London had hidden the truth from him—that she herself had pretty nearly singlehandedly solved all four of the murders, and she had faced some pretty dangerous situations in the process.

While London liked Bob, and he had even come to her rescue once, she knew all too well he wasn’t much of a detective. In fact, he seemed to be fairly incompetent. But Bob had boasted rather fancifully to Mr. Lapham about his prowess in solving the last three murders, and London had thought it best not to contradict him.

So she had herself to blame for the CEO’s misplaced confidence, and now she couldn’t quite bring herself to explain what had really happened. She thought her boss was agitated enough already.

As she and Mr. Lapham walked into the reception area, they were approached by a familiar passenger, the same woman who had complained that she had seen a mouse aboard the Nachtmusik.

“Mr. Lapham, Ms. Rose—what on earth is going on?” the woman demanded. “The people who are coming back from the pastry festival are saying that the most awful things happened there.”

At that moment, London heard Sir Reggie let out a noisy cough.

The complaining woman leapt backwards and squealed. Then she stood staring downward, gasping in horror.

Sir Reggie had thrown up all over the woman’s shoes.

“Oh,” London said, reaching out to steady the tottering woman. “I’m so sorry. I’m afraid he ate too much pastry at the festival.”

She saw that the woman’s high heels were suede and looked quite expensive.

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