“How could I forget?” Mrs Judkins said.
Molly and I helped her out of the gondola.
“You’ve been experiencing some memory problems lately,” I said.
“My memory is fine,” Mrs Judkins said.
“It must have been a terrible shock,” Molly said. “Right there in my bedroom. This is the best hotel in Venice.”
We made our way into the elegant lobby.
“Well, it was a shock, of course,” Mrs Judkins said. “I thought I was alone in the suite… although perhaps you two were there…?”
“No, no,” I said. “You remember, we were at Fenice Opera House. La Traviata.”
“La Traviata…”
“Remember?” Molly said, “We sang you bits of the arias at breakfast the next morning.”
“The next morning…”
“Picture what you saw ,” Molly said, as we entered the elevator.
“Well, I…”
“You looked into Molly’s room,” I said. “You saw dark shapes on the bed. They were still, not moving.”
“Yes…”
“Did you hear breathing?”
“No… Perhaps a moan, before I opened the door…”
“Wind moaning in the eaves? It was an unsettled evening,” Molly said.
We made our way down the hall to their suite.
“I checked the room after you told us about this,” I said. “There were pillows bunched up under the dark spread.”
“Well, I…”
“Had you been into the sherry?” Molly said.
“Absolutely not. No more than usual, at any rate.”
“Well,” Molly said, “we’ve notified hotel management. Ned and I won’t leave you alone again.”
“For now,” I said, “I’ll return to my room.”
for 50 Word Thursday
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Does writing excuse watching? 