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“He’s not clever enough or dedicated enough.”
“Please.” Montague moans, and sits back.
“Seriously, you are clever in a gossipy way, but whoever did this knew how to throw a knife, where to find poison, and how to use it. It would also require access to the right kind of candy, which means premeditation.”
“You have a point,” Lady E. agrees.
“Poisoning a person takes work. Montague abhors work,” I add. Bentwood nods, but I can’t read his expression. He reminds me of a cat, watchful, in charge of its world. Unsettled, I pursue my point. “Plus, there’s the whole backward thing.”
This has Bentwood frowning.
“Backward thing?”
Lady E. explains, “Montague shuts the door on yesterdays. Too much wreckage back there. He looks for tomorrow.”
“I was his yesterday,” I admit, humiliating as it is.
Bentwood sits, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
“What about an accomplice?”
“Possibly.” Lady E. nods. “But doubtful. What advantage does an accomplice have?”
“Forward thinking?” Bentwood straightens.
“I don’t think that far forward,” Montague argues. “I hardly think at all.”
We are all too stunned to laugh, though I am hard pressed not to.
“One can’t be too careful when there’s a murderer on board,” Lady E. says as she feeds the cat a piece of fish from the communal platter. “One must not discard a suspect too easily.”
I look to Bentwood, but he is cutting into his meal, apparently famished after months of barely acknowledging his food.
Steves appears in the doorway, speaking with a steward.
Bentwood sees him and rises.
“Please excuse me for a moment.”
I try to join him, but he gestures for me to wait. The ingrate. It is very difficult to protect a man resistant to protection.
I will have to be more wily. That’s all there is to it.
******
I‘m tangled in the hammock. It was to be Jenny’s. Unfortunately, I insisted on hammock over bunk, only to fall prey to the gentle swing. It lulled me to sleep. One moment I lay, waiting for Lady E. and Jenny to fall asleep, and the next… Drat! Who is watching over Bentwood?
I flip over and tumble to the floor, holding still for a moment to ensure that no one woke with the calamity. Quiet. Too quiet.
They aren’t here.
Heart beating, I slip from the cabin, certain that, while I slept, the worst has happened and Bentwood is in trouble. No one is in the hall. Not Lady E. or Jenny or Bentwood or anyone watching our deck.
The captain promised we would have guards. But for the second time, they aren’t there. Nor is this Zenji character. Where are they?
Through the shadows, I see that Bentwood’s cabin door is firmly closed, as are all of the doors. I grab the lantern hanging by the ladder, and stalk the passageway, illuminating every dark nook and cranny between his cabin and ours.
No one is outside. No one lurks in the deep recesses. Ear to the door, I listen for signs of trouble. Nothing.
