“Oh my God,” Yvonne said.
“Oh my God is right,” Brenda reiterated. “My life started to pass before my—”
Now it was Longworth’s turn to say, “Oh my God—when will this end? Are we all in danger?”
Brenda continued. “But I lay still, barely breathing. He was in my room for a time, doing who knows what. I listened until I heard the sound of the cabin door open and close and whoever did it left.”
By now Yvonne appeared as breathless as Brenda. “What a horrible experience,” she moaned. “Hearing about you struggling to breathe makes me realize how awful it must have been for my darling Roger.”
To Longworth Brenda looked clearly annoyed that the focus on her fifteen minutes of fame was momentarily shared by another person’s misfortune.
Brenda continued. “To make a long story short—”
Way too late for that, Longworth sighed to himself.
“I survived, and I am alive to tell the tale. And it wasn’t until this morning that on top of everything else, I realized my very valuable necklace is missing.”
Sensing she had lost her audience, Brenda finished eating quickly, walked over to the next table, sat down and began massaging the bruises on her neck.
She appeared delighted that Alvirah and Willy and Ted Cavanaugh were particularly concerned as she recounted her harrowing adventure. On the other hand Anna DeMille sighed, “In a way I’m jealous of you. I could just imagine being in that circumstance.” She turned to Devon and put her hand on his arm. “I would hope that you would be the one to rescue me,” she said sweetly.
Ted stayed only a few minutes before excusing himself. That was when he murmured to Alvirah, “I have to call a client in France, but then I want to check on Celia.”
“Good idea,” Alvirah confirmed.
A few minutes later Brenda glanced around and spotted Yvonne’s Hamptons friends. Massaging her neck and wincing as she walked, she headed directly for their table.
Alvirah swallowed her last gulp of coffee and said, “Willy, let’s take a walk on the deck.”
Willy looked out the window. “It’s pouring, honey,” he said.
Alvirah followed his glance. “Oh, it is. You’re right. Let’s go upstairs instead. I want to phone and check on Celia.”
81
Celia had slept mercifully well after dinner, no longer carrying the Cleopatra necklace and having confided in Alvirah had taken a weight off her shoulders. But when she had opened her eyes at six-thirty in the morning, she realized there was something else. She had thoroughly enjoyed talking to Ted Cavanaugh. She knew that he was being genuine when he told her that he believed she had nothing to do with Lady Em’s death. She wished she had told him what Lady Em had said about Brenda and Roger but decided that might have made him wonder why she knew so much.
After replaying their conversation in her mind, she turned her attention to the nagging question of why she had let herself be swept off her feet by Steven. Why hadn’t she been more careful? A little checking would have quickly revealed that much of what he was telling her was not true. She wondered if it was her father’s fault for dying so young, and leaving her in such a vulnerable state. But at that thought she was embarrassed and angry that she could even consider blaming him. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered as healing tears rushed to her eyes. “I have only myself to blame.”
She sat up, reached for a robe and phoned for coffee and a muffin.
I won’t let this happen again, she thought. I have to be sure. She went over to the table and opened her laptop. Celia didn’t remember the name of Ted’s law firm, so she went to Google and typed in Ted Cavanaugh, NYC lawyer. A website for the Boswell, Bitzer and Cavanaugh firm was one of the links. She clicked on it, and the site came up. She clicked on Our People, and when Ted’s picture appeared, she scanned the brief bio below it. Celia heaved a sigh of relief. Ted is exactly who he said he is.
Minutes later her phone rang. It was Alvirah.
“Celia, I just wanted to say, be careful,” Alvirah warned. “Brenda Martin just came down to breakfast. She said someone tried to strangle her and that she would have died if the butler hadn’t entered her room before she choked to death.”
“Oh, poor Brenda,” Celia sighed, even as she remembered that Lady Em had told her that Brenda was a thief.
“My worry is that the thief may be searching for the Cleopatra necklace,” Alvirah continued. “So you must be very careful over the next two days. And be careful when you’re walking. The ship is starting to roll from side to side. If you haven’t been outside yet, you might not know that we’re having a terrible rainstorm.”
“I haven’t,” Celia answered. “Alvirah, I’m worried I might have put you and Willy in danger.”
“Oh, we’ll be okay,” Alvirah said confidently. “No one is going to kill me while Willy’s around, and I don’t think anyone is going to tangle with Willy.”
“That makes me feel better,” Celia said, “but please be careful.”
“We will be,” Alvirah promised.
Celia had barely hung up the phone when it rang again. It was Ted Cavanaugh. His voice was solicitous. “Celia, you didn’t come down to breakfast. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Celia assured him. “I slept late this morning, which is the first time I’ve done that in recent memory.”
“I’m calling to warn you to be careful,” Ted said. “Brenda was almost murdered last night. She said someone attacked her in her room and tried to strangle her. She was robbed of a very valuable pearl necklace.”
Celia did not say that Alvirah had just called her. She also didn’t tell Ted that the only necklace she had seen Brenda wearing was of very poor quality. Unless the necklace she claims was stolen was one of Lady Em’s. But she kept that thought to herself.
“Celia, my office just sent me material for a brief I have to finish tonight. Let’s have lunch tomorrow.”
“I’d like that,” Celia said simply.
“Good. How about one o’clock in the tearoom on your deck?”
“That will be fine,” Celia confirmed, then held on to the phone for a moment after Ted disconnected. “I don’t feel all by myself, alone, right now,” she said aloud, as she hung up the phone and picked up her coffee cup.
82
Gregory Morrison watched as Captain Fairfax and his chief security officer entered his room. He looked at them and past them. “Where’s Inspector Clouseau from Interpol?” he demanded. “I said I wanted him here as well.”
“I asked Mr. Michaelson to join us,” Captain Fairfax said nervously. “But he told me he had absolutely no intention of coming here to be humiliated by you.”
“You weren’t supposed to ask him to come. I told you to tell him to come.” Morrison sighed. “Forget it, he’s useless anyhow.”
Morrison paced around his suite as he spoke. “That cow Brenda Martin is running all over the dining room showing her swollen neck to anyone who will give her the time of day. Don’t you people realize that all the passengers will be afraid of being in their rooms alone?”
He looked John Saunders squarely in the eye. “Can you give me any good reason why I should keep paying you? After a passenger is murdered and her jewelry stolen, why didn’t it occur to you to have someone in the hallway to stand guard?”
Saunders had taught himself to overlook Morrison’s constant jibes. “May I remind you, Mr. Morrison, we agreed to try to keep things on board as normal as possible. Armed guards in the hallways outside the passengers’ suites is not normal. I specifically recall your saying that we are not running a prison.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Morrison said grudgingly.
Captain Fairfax took over. “Frankly, Mr. Morrison,” he said firmly, “we should be focusing on how we are going to respond to this latest,” he paused, “incident. It had not been picked up by the news sites before I came up here, but—”
Morrison rummaged in his pocket and found his phone. He tapp
ed in the name of the ship. “Just what I was afraid of,” he snarled. “The first headline is ‘Another Passenger Attacked on Queen Charlotte?’ ”
Morrison continued to read. “Can you believe this? They’re already referring to the ship as the twenty-first-century Titanic.”
No one spoke.
“My ship,” Morrison added, his voice breaking. “Now, you two get out of here and make sure nothing else happens before we reach port.”
Captain Fairfax and John Saunders nodded and left the room. Morrison settled down into a comfortable chair, tapped his phone and looked at the emails from his office. There was one from his chief financial officer ten minutes earlier saying that thirty passengers who were scheduled to board the ship in Southampton had canceled their reservations.
He got up immediately and went to the bar. This time he chose Johnny Walker Blue and filled his glass. As he sipped, his thought was, That was before what happened to Brenda Martin. I wonder how much I will have to pay for her sore throat.
83
Ten hours after he fell asleep, Roger Pearson opened his eyes. I’m alive, I’m alive, he thought. He was aware that he was breathing through a ventilator tube and that his forehead felt hot when he touched it. But I think I’m going to be okay.
He glanced to the side and saw that a man in a white doctor’s coat was asleep in the reclining chair next to his bed. He realized that was just as well. He wanted to give his name and say that he had gone overboard from Queen Charlotte. He had a very clear memory of the maniacal expression on Yvonne’s face as she charged at him and with all her strength shoved him backwards. He certainly intended to let her know that he was very aware of what she had done, but he was not ready to share what happened with whoever on this ship was going to ask him questions.
Roger closed his eyes and gave in to his sense of being blissfully warm and tucked into heavy blankets. As long as I live, I’ll never go swimming again, he thought, as the memory of being freezing cold, and trying to spit out the salty water, flooded his mind.
84
“Willy, we’ve got to put our heads together,” Alvirah said firmly, even as she grasped his arm to balance herself against the rolling ship.
“Steady, honey, I’ve got you,” Willy said calmly, while holding Alvirah’s arm with one hand and the railing with the other.
“Let’s go into one of the quiet rooms,” Alvirah suggested. “We need to talk.”
“I thought you wanted to walk.”
“No, I don’t. You never know if someone might be able to hear us.”
“I think we’re the only ones out here, but okay.”
They settled in the English Tea Room and ordered cups of coffee. When she was sure that the waiter was back in the kitchen with the door closed, Alvirah whispered, “Willy, we have to figure all this out now.”
Willy took a deep, satisfying sip. “Honey, I’m more worried about what to do with this darn necklace than I am about anything else.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure that out,” Alvirah said confidently. “But let’s consider what we know so far. Somebody killed poor Lady Em and tried to rob her. We know her killer didn’t get the Cleopatra necklace because she had given it to Celia. And we know that just before she died, Lady Em told Celia that Roger Pearson, God rest him, and Brenda Martin were cheating her.”
Willy nodded. “I believe every word of what Celia said, don’t you?”
“Of course. If Celia was guilty, why would she have given us the necklace?” Alvirah paused. “But that isn’t the point.”
“Then what is?”
“Oh Willy, it’s as plain as the nose on your face. Whoever killed Lady Em was going after the necklace. And when he or she didn’t get it, the killer decided that Brenda had it and went after her.”
“He or she?” Willy asked.
“Of course, it could be either one. And you know who my bet is?” It was a rhetorical question. “I put my money on Yvonne.”
“Yvonne?”
“Willy, let’s put aside for the moment this Man with One Thousand Faces. Nobody’s even sure if he’s on the ship. Let’s focus on Yvonne. Look at the way she’s been all over the ship since her husband fell—or was pushed—over.”
Willy’s brow creased. “You mean you think Yvonne pushed Roger overboard?”
“I don’t say I believe it, but it’s entirely possible. I mean, look at her. She didn’t miss a breakfast. She’s been hanging around with her two Hamptons friends. I’ve been keeping an eye on them, and I’ll tell you this, Yvonne is no brokenhearted widow. I mean, how would you feel if I fell overboard?”
“It never would have happened,” Willy said firmly. “First of all, I wouldn’t have let you sit on the railing. And second, I would have grabbed you as you started to fall. And if I couldn’t stop you from falling, I’d have gone over too so I could help you.”
Alvirah’s eyes softened. “I know you would, and that’s why I love you so much,” she said. “But I have to say that Yvonne isn’t the only one I have my eye on. Who else? Anna DeMille—”
Willy interrupted. “The one who tells the stupid joke about not being related to Cecil B. DeMille?”
“Exactly. I think she’s harmless.”
“I agree,” Willy said as he finished his coffee. “She’s too busy trying to land Devon Michaelson to get involved with killing somebody for a necklace.”
“Agreed. Scratch her off the list. Now let’s talk about the other people at our two tables. There’s Professor Longworth.”
“The Shakespeare scholar.” Willy shook his head. “I don’t know about him. He strikes me as a little odd, but not the killer type. But what about Ted Cavanaugh? He was certainly trying to cozy up to Lady Em.”
“Yes, he was,” Alvirah agreed. “But somehow I can’t picture him killing Lady Em. And why would he do it? Celia said that Lady Em was planning to give the Cleopatra necklace to the museum in Cairo.”
“That’s what Cavanaugh wanted, but did he know that at the time Lady Em was killed?”
Alvirah shook her head dismissively. “Celia probably didn’t tell him, because it would have meant admitting that she saw Lady Em the night before she died. I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones Celia trusted with that information. But I just don’t believe Cavanaugh would kill anyone. He’s from such a nice family. I mean his father was an ambassador twice.”
“A lot of people from nice families turn out to be killers,” Willy commented.
Alvirah ignored that possibility. “Let’s think about it. Who else has been at our tables?”
“Devon Michaelson?”
“Oh, of course, he could be the one, but somehow I don’t think so. I mean, he was on this ship to scatter his wife’s ashes, poor soul. He probably spends most of his time hiding from Anna DeMille. Let’s get back to Professor Longworth. He travels a lot. He’s a regular speaker on these cruises, just as Celia is.”
“Except that Longworth is retired. Celia has a full-time job at Carruthers.”
“She hopes she has a full-time job. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen because that miserable former fiancé of hers has been trying to portray her as a thief.”
“Well, he’ll have no luck, I’m sure of that.”
“He may have no luck tying her to his fraud, but that hasn’t stopped him from making Celia’s life miserable.”
“And honey, I’m getting worried. What are we going to do with this necklace when we get to Southampton or when we fly home?” As he spoke, Willy fumbled in his pants pocket but then was reassured when his fingers touched the emerald necklace.
“We get home, call Ted Cavanaugh and turn the necklace over to him.”
“And how do we explain that we have it?”
“I’m still working on that,” Alvirah said. “Giving the necklace to Ted is what Lady Em wanted. Ted is right. It belongs to the people of Egypt. Cleopatra was their queen.”
“A lot of luck it brought her.” Willy stared at his empty cup but kne
w Alvirah would not want him to signal the waiter back.
“I still have questions about Yvonne,” Alvirah reflected, “but think about it this way: someone will do anything, even kill, to get that necklace, agreed?”
“Agreed,” Willy echoed.
“That someone killed Lady Em and tried to kill Brenda, but still didn’t get the necklace.”
“That makes sense, at least as far as we can figure it so far.”
“The Captain could have announced that the necklace was secure in his safe, but he hasn’t done that. What does that tell the killer?”
“That somebody else, one of the passengers, has it.”
“So if you’re the killer, whether you’re somebody we know on the ship or this Man with One Thousand Faces, and you’re trying to figure out who has the necklace, and you know it wasn’t Lady Em or Roger or Brenda, who would you guess has it?”
“Celia Kilbride,” Willy said promptly.
“That’s the way my mind is going,” Alvirah confirmed. “There’s no question that with the killer still on the loose, Celia is in grave danger.”
She looked down and realized she had only swallowed a few sips of her coffee. Resisting the urge to grab it, she pushed it over to Willy. “I’ve been watching you staring at your empty cup. You could use a little more.”
“Thank you,” Willy said, as he eagerly reached for the cup.
“Willy, it’s up to you and me to make sure that nothing happens to Celia before we get to Southampton.”
“If we get to Southampton,” Willy said, as they felt a particularly dramatic roll of the ship.