The Mystery Guild Anthology [antikvár]

PETER LOVESEY How Mr Smith Traced his Ancestors Most of the passengers were looking right, treating themselves to the breath-catching view of San Francisco Bay that the captain of the 747 had invited them to enjoy. Not Eva. Her eyes were locked on the lighted no-smoking symbol and the order to fasten seat belts. Until that was switched off she could not think of relaxing. She knew that the take-off was the most dangerous part of the flight, and it was a delusion to think you were safe the moment the plane was airborne. She refused to be distracted. She would wait for the proof that the take-off had been safely accompHshed: the switching off of that small, lighted sign. "Your first time?" The man on her left spoke with a West Coast accent. She had sensed that he had been waiting to speak since they took their seats, darting glances her way. Probably he was just friendly Hke most San Franciscans she had met on the trip, but she could not possibly start a conversation now. Without turning, she mouthed a negative. "I mean your first time to England," he went on. "Anyone can see you've flown before, the way you put your hand luggage under the seat before they even asked us, and fixed your belt. I just wondered if this is your first trip to England." She didn't want to seem ungracious. He was obviously trying to put her at ease. She smiled at the no smoking sign and nodded. It was, after all, her first flight in this direction. The fact that she was English and had just been on a business trip to California was too much to explain. "Mine, too," he said. "Promised myself this for years. My people came from England, you see, forty, fifty years back. All