Over My Dead Body (Detective William Warwick #4)(6)

‘You can always ask James who she is while I’m at my yoga class. But let’s forget about the Buchanan family for a few moments, while I tell you what I’ve got planned for us during our week in New York.’

‘The Met, I presume, will be at the top of your list,’ said William, ‘and I’ve no doubt it will require more than one visit.’

‘Three,’ said Beth. ‘Everything before 1850 on Saturday, Indigenous Art on Monday, and on Wednesday I want to see the Impressionist collection, which Tim Knox assures me is second only to the Musée d’Orsay.’

‘Phew … do we get pit stops on Tuesday and Thursday?’ asked William after taking a sip of coffee.

‘Certainly not. We’ll visit the Frick on Tuesday, where …’

‘… we’ll see a remarkable Holbein of Thomas Cromwell, and Bellini’s St Francis in Ecstasy.’

‘I sometimes forget that you’re a semi-educated caveman.’

‘By my wife since leaving university,’ responded William. ‘And on Thursday?’

‘On to the MoMA. A chance to see the finest examples of the Cubist period: Picasso and Braque, when we’ll find out if you can tell the difference.’

‘Won’t their names be on the bottom of the pictures?’ teased William.

‘That’s for tourists, who won’t be joining us in the evenings.’

‘Then who will be?’

‘We have tickets for the Lincoln Center. The New York Symphony Orchestra, playing Brahms.’

‘It has to be the second piano concerto in B Major,’ said William, ‘one of your favourites.’

‘And I haven’t forgotten one of your favourites,’ retorted Beth, ‘because on Friday evening, the night before we fly home, we have tickets to see Ella Fitzgerald at Carnegie Hall.’

‘How did you manage that? It must have been sold out for months!’

‘Christina fixed it. Seems she knows someone on the board.’ Beth paused for a moment before adding, ‘I’m beginning to feel guilty about her.’

‘Why? The reason she couldn’t make the trip to New York is because she’s getting married to Ralph, and she was only too delighted to find someone to take her place at the last moment.’

‘It’s the marriage I’m feeling guilty about. Don’t forget she originally asked me to be her maid of honour. But because we took up her generous offer, I’ll miss the wedding.’

‘Didn’t you find that a bit of a coincidence?’

‘Not really. August fifteenth was the only Saturday before the end of September when they could get married at her parish church in Limpton-in-the-Marsh, which left her stuck with the tickets. We shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’

William decided this wasn’t the time to tell Beth it had taken him only one phone call to discover that Christina’s parish church had been available a fortnight before, after which she and Captain Ralph Neville could easily have taken their honeymoon on the ship. However, if he’d refused to join Beth on the voyage so he could keep a closer eye on Christina and her new husband, his own wife might well have sailed off into the sunset without him.

‘Have you noticed that Sara Buchanan hasn’t spoken one word to the chairman since she sat down?’ said Beth, still staring at the captain’s table.

‘Possibly because he sacked her husband as deputy chairman,’ suggested William, as he buttered a second piece of toast.

‘What else have you spotted while you pretended to be listening to me?’

‘Hamish Buchanan has been deep in conversation with his mother, while James is feigning not to be interested, although he’s taking in every word.’

‘Which he’ll no doubt report back to you, now you’ve recruited him as your undercover agent for the trip.’

‘James appointed himself. And as he’s the chairman’s grandson, he’s well-placed to supply endless pieces of inside information.’

‘For a man, it’s information,’ commented Beth. ‘For a woman, it’s gossip.’

‘James has already warned me that he wouldn’t be surprised if an all-out row broke out at some time during the voyage,’ added William, ignoring Beth’s comment.

‘I’d like to be a salt cellar on that table,’ admitted Beth.

‘Behave yourself, or I’ll take a closer look at the young man who’s in charge of your yoga class.’

‘His name’s Stefan. All the other middle-aged women in the class fancy him,’ she sighed, ‘so I’m not in with much of a chance.’

‘You are not middle-aged,’ said William, taking her hand.

‘Thank you, caveman, but I’ve already had two thirtieth birthdays, just in case you hadn’t noticed, and the children will soon be off to nursery school.’

‘I wonder how our parents are coping with them.’

‘Your father will have Artemisia doing torts …’

‘… while your mother will be teaching Peter to draw.’

‘Lucky children,’ they both said simultaneously.

‘Still, back to the present,’ said Beth, picking up a copy of the daily cruise programme. ‘There’s a talk in the lecture theatre this morning that I’d like to go to.’