it.â
âKimono?â
âIn
Murder on the Orient Express
. Zoeâs wrap dress has a dragon design on the back, see? Itâs a more modernâ â and sluttier â âversion of the red kimono Christie gave to one of her characters.â I looked at Pavlik. âYou
have
seen the movie, right?â
âNo, but I read the book, which will probably endear me to more people at a writersâ conference.â
âMovies are written, too,â I pointed out. âAnd I have to believe that every aspiring writer here would also love a movie deal â oh, this must be our train.â
Not much of a stretch, since there was but one. Missy, having delivered her charge safely to the station, was squatting down in her furs and evening dress, teetering precariously on her high heels as she tried to tape a banner to one of the cars.
âYou go on,â I said to Pavlik. âI might as well earn my keep by seeing if Missy needs help.â
âIâll save you a seat this time.â Pavlik gave me a quick kiss on the lips.
âIâd like that.â I felt rewarded for not making a big deal â or any deal at all, in fact â about Zoe and the seating arrangement on the bus.
As Pavlik continued on to the rest of the group milling around on the platform, I skirted the crowd, noticing Danny the supposed sycophant talking again with the sports-jacketed former actor from the bus. The two were standing on the fringe of the herd, the plaid of the older manâs jacket even gaudier in the lights of the station. He seemed to be pointing out people of interest â or more likely, of note â to the newcomer.
âOh, dear!â
I reached Missy just in time to catch a corner she had just secured â or tried, with duct tape, to secure â before it peeled away and brushed the railbed. âCan I give you a hand?â
âOh, thank you,â Missy said gratefully. âIâd planned to have this all done before your bus arrived, but the traffic on my âshortcutâ was heavier than I expected.â
âIt was good of you to drive Rosemary Darlington,â I said, smoothing the banner. âGiven what Iâve seen, the farther apart you keep her and Laurence Potter, the better.â
Though admittedly not nearly as much fun for onlookers like me, who always appreciated being witness to a train wreck.
Not that I wanted to jinx the poor young womanâs project.
âI didnât mind driving.â Missy swept her hat off and swiped her forehead with the back of the same hand. Wearing a fur coat in eighty degrees Fahrenheit must have been taking its toll, even on a Floridian. âRosemary suffers from motion sickness and buses are the worst. I hope sheâll be all right on our trip tonight.â
âEric â thatâs my son â gets car sick, but heâs fine on trains as long as heâs facing forward.â Which made me recall that passenger cars often had half the seats facing rearward.
âI suggested that to Rosemary,â Missy said, replacing her hat. âFacing forward and, as you say, as far away from Laurence Potter as possible.â
The last was said under her breath and she glanced over at me, just seeming to realize itâd been said aloud. âThey â¦â Missy hesitated, â⦠have a history.â
Hmm. An affair gone wrong would certainly explain the venom with which Potter had criticized Darlingtonâs literary side-trip to the erotic. Maybe Iâd read the book just to see if one of the characters was a tall, bald man. âSo Larry Potter and Rosemary Darlington had a personal relationship?â
But Missy had colored up. And, apparently, decided to clam up as well. âConference rumors, Iâm sure. Please donât say you heard anything from me, Maggy.â
âOf course not.â I was thinking about my dentist husband and the years of conferences
Learning to Kill: Stories