I hadn’t told Rennie. “I, yes, I did, but, see, the man I danced with claimed to be Edward Morrison,” I said, tormenting the pommel of my parasol. “But he wasn’t.”
“Why would anyone pretend to be him?” Norton asked, scribbling something on his notepad.
“I don’t know, Detective. I believe finding the answer to that question is your job.” I lifted my chin.
He glowered. “And where’s this man? The man you danced with?” he pressed on.
“I don’t know,” I said through gritted teeth. “I haven’t seen him recently.”
The detective opened his mouth again, but Rennie cut him off. “Shouldn’t we focus on the real Mr Morrison and try to find him?”
“But the man Miss Fitzwilliam met might be behind Mr Morrison’s disappearance, and who knows, perhaps even Mrs Francis’s disappearance.” Norton cast a hard glance at me.
Unfortunately, he had a point, but I didn’t want to answer any of his questions.
“Let’s search the ship first. We have some experience with it now.” Rennie took my arm and led me away without giving Norton the chance to answer. “Why didn’t you tell me you searched for Edward?” he asked when we were out of earshot.
“I didn’t think it was important, and since you didn’t give me any information about the danger I was in, I wasn’t sure Edward had anything to do with it. I’m not sure even now. Dash it, I’m confused.”
He glared at me, the warmth from last night gone. “Listen, I promise I’ll tell you everything I can, everything that doesn’t harm you. Is there anything else you didn’t tell me?” I must have looked guilty because his expression hardened. “What is it?”
“Sandro wants to elope with me once we’re in Venice,” I whispered.
Not a single hint of shock or surprise showed on his face. Sort of disappointing. I was expecting a bigger reaction.
“Did you agree?” His tone was inquisitive but not jealous.
“I didn’t, of course. What a ridiculous idea. I don’t lose my head only because a man is a good kisser.”
His nostrils flared a bit. “Let’s find this bloody Morrison.” He added three ‘s’ in Morrison.
We didn’t split. Rennie and Oliver went everywhere I went, from the restaurant on the top-level deck to the sauna. It was dusk when we searched the theatre. No silver goo stained the floor, though.
I plonked down onto one of the plush seats, heaving a sigh. “Norton will accuse me of murder.”
Oliver shrugged. “No body, no crime.”
“We need an entire unit to search this bloody ship,” Rennie muttered, running a hand through his hair.
“An entire unit of what?” I asked, perking up.
He worked his jaw. “I have to talk with Norton. Oliver, take care of Monia.” With that, he strode away.
Oliver offered me his arm. “I’ll escort you to dinner, Miss Fitzwilliam.”
We walked towards the dining hall, him humming a tune, me wishing Rennie were the one with me. Without much appetite, I picked at my baked trout, searching the dining hall for Rennie. He’d been gone for a while. At least he was going to sleep in my cabin tonight. We would talk.
“Worried, Miss Fitzwilliam?” Oliver asked, smiling politely while drinking his tea with his little finger stretched out.
“I wonder where Rennie might be.”
He tilted his head. “Am I not a good company?”
“No.” The word rushed out of my mouth. Good gracious, since when was I so rude? My face flamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
He sipped his tea. “May I ask how you got that scar?” He pointed at my wrist.
I hadn’t noticed my sleeve had inched up, revealing a portion of the long scar. “An incident while I was riding my horse.”
