Set Sail for Murder Read online

  I was seated with another solo woman traveler from Brisbane and a charming couple from Lancashire. Our conversation was pleasant, desultory, the latest tennis scores, the PM’s rousing speech in Parliament, the curious beauty of amber. “…Who would think fossilized pine tree resin would end up being made into jewelry?…”

  I chatted and let my gaze rove. Jimmy, handsome in a tuxedo, lifted a glass in a toast to Sophia. Silver beads in the design of seashells decorated her black chiffon dress. They sat at a table for two and didn’t look as if they had a care in the world. I thought it was encouraging that they were dining without the others. Possibly Sophia had relaxed her insistence upon interaction with the heirs, and that was surely better for everyone. Perhaps she would be satisfied with the breakfast meetings.

  I spotted some of the Riordans at a round table on the opposite side of the room. Rosie and Val were absent. I made another survey of the dining room to be certain. I didn’t see the sisters. Throughout the courses, I unobtrusively watched the foursome. Evelyn and Kent sat opposite Alex and Madge. If a prize were awarded to the glummest table, theirs would have won handily. I never saw a smile. Kent stared down at his plate, eating mechanically. Madge wriggled and flounced and frowned while Alex looked increasingly morose. But it was Evelyn who puzzled, then worried me. Her genial good humor of the afternoon was gone. She talked to Kent, her face imploring, one hand outstretched as if in appeal. He never looked at her, but his face grew stonier and stonier.

  For dessert I chose cheese and fruit. The Lancashire couple each had bananas Foster. Our Australian tablemate waved away dessert, murmuring something about a few laps in the pool before bedtime. I hoped the water was heated.

  At the Riordan table, Alex and Madge elected to have another drink. Kent shook his head at dessert, folded his arms, and continued to look intractable. Evelyn slumped wearily against her chair.

  I made my farewells, indicated a hope I would have the opportunity to visit with my new acquaintances again. I avoided walking near the Riordan table. It wasn’t my plan that Evelyn should see me now. Once outside the dining room, I considered my options. Evelyn’s cabin was aft, so she might take the lifts near the dining room. I mingled with a crowd in the far hallway where I had a good vantage point to see the departing diners.

  Evelyn came out of the dining room alone. She glanced toward the lines at the elevator, moved past, obviously choosing to walk to the lifts on the far side of the shops.

  I moved quickly to reach the shops before her. The arcade was open. Amber jewelry glistened on a table outside the first shop. I loitered, admiring a pendant with the golden glow of fresh honey. I was fingering a double-rope necklace when I saw Evelyn. She appeared worried and abstracted, face furrowed, eyes blank.

  True to Rosie’s affectionate description, Evelyn looked as though she’d shopped at a rummage sale, though I suspected this dress too was new. The gown, in fact, was lovely, cupid pink floral lace overlay silk organza. The haphazard effect resulted from green jade earrings that looked bilious above the pink, a rainbow-striped scarf draped around her neck, scuffed black flats, and a woeful face.

  “Evelyn.” I hailed her eagerly. “I was hoping I’d run into you.” There was just a hint of a lonely traveler hoping for companionship. “They’re playing forties tunes up on 10. I was thinking about an after-dinner drink. Will you join me?”

  As I smiled at her, Evelyn came back from a long distance, forcing herself to see me, her worried frown slipping away. She blinked several times, her kindly face concerned. “A drink?” Obviously she’d intended to return to her cabin. Her face was a rapid study in conflicting emotions, underlying uneasiness and abstraction, automatic good manners, empathy. Kindness prevailed. “I’d love that.”

  We talked about our day in Gdańsk as we walked to the lift. When we got out on 10, the deck was less stable beneath our feet, the ship obviously encountering heavier seas. At one especially pronounced lurch, I lost my balance, flailed toward the wall. She was quick to catch my arm, stabilize me. I realized she had excellent balance, and I understood why Jimmy believed that she’d deliberately upended the tray with Sophia’s sherry. Evelyn was unlikely to stumble walking down stairs.

  We settled at a table near the bank of windows looking out over the bow with an unobstructed view of open ocean. The cheerful late evening summer sun of the northern latitudes splashed the sea with vivid colors of the sunset. A chanteuse in a silver lamé gown offered a throaty version of “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.” The backup trio played with energy but, happily, kept down the volume.

  A rosy light spilled down from a wall sconce, emphasizing the tracery of smile lines on Evelyn’s milk white skin. She looked like what she was, a pleasant middle-aged woman with worries and fears and hopes. Although her eyes held the echo of laughter, they also held sadness.

  We sat in a companionable silence, enjoying the music, sipping our drinks. She ordered a Scotch and soda. I chose an apricot colada, a frothy mix of dark rum, apricot brandy, and vanilla ice cream. Self-indulgent, yes, but I was on a holiday. Ostensibly.

  Our conversation began desultorily, fanning out like ripples of the tide washing onto the beach with no particular direction, leaching sand here, dropping a shell there. My objective was simply to encourage Evelyn to see me as a friend. I hoped to maneuver her into a discussion of her nieces and nephews, but only if they came naturally into our conversation. The music played on, “As Time Goes By,” “O Sole Mio,” and “Pistol Packin’ Mama.” I realized that Evelyn was eliciting a rather full biography of me.

  “…and after my husband’s death I was a freelancer for a while, then ended up teaching journalism at Thorndyke University in Missouri. Now I’m fully retired, though I still write an occasional article. I travel quite a bit.” Funny, how truth can tell so little, revealing nothing of Richard’s death in a fall from a Hawaiian mountainside and my struggle to find light and grace in life alone and the chilling moment when I realized Richard’s death was murder. As for being retired…well, surely it was time, but I would have enjoyed teaching an occasional class if another crime hadn’t forced an end to my association with the university. It was a reminder that what I shared with Evelyn and what she shared with me might be true but far from the whole truth.

  I spooned a thick clump of ice cream from the colada. “That’s certainly enough about me. Now tell me all about this wonderful trip you are making with your family.”

  She brushed back a straggle of faded red hair. Her face was suddenly forlorn. “Oh, this trip. I wish—” She broke off, shook her head. Tears glistened in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” My voice was gentle.

  She swiped a hand across her eyes, managing to smear eyeliner and leaving a streak down one cheek. “I shouldn’t get upset. But I haven’t been sleeping well and I feel so helpless.” She hesitated, asked bluntly, “Are you a great friend of Sophia’s?”

  “I met her twice many years ago.” I looked directly into blue eyes that wanted something of me, but I wasn’t sure what. “Jimmy’s my great friend.”

  “Oh.” She sagged back against the chair in disappointment. “I was hoping you could help.” She clasped her hands together, began to twist them round and round. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Would you like to tell me about it?” I steeled myself against a wave of pity. Yes, I felt sorry for Evelyn and her pain, but if one of the Riordans had a murderous heart, Sophia had to be protected.

  “There’s nothing you can do. I thought if you were Sophia’s friend, perhaps you could talk to her. I’m worried about what she may do. You see, she has control over whether the children receive their inheritance, and Sophia doesn’t understand them. She’s tried to force them into a mold of what she thinks Frank would have wanted, and that’s not right. I’ve tried to talk to her, but Sophia says I’m not impartial. Of course I’m not impartial, whatever that is!” Evelyn looked indignant. “I know them. They’re wonderful kids. I came to take care of them after their mo
ther died. They’re good kids—”

  They weren’t kids. Not anymore. Yet I understood her cry. They would always be children to her.

  “—but Sophia’s never understood them. Oh”—Evelyn sighed heavily—“I have to admit Sophia’s tried, but she looks at everything rationally and people aren’t rational, not when they’re in love or afraid or discouraged or hurt.”

  Evelyn might not be articulate, but she understood the human heart.

  Evelyn turned her glass on the coaster. “Worst of all, she thinks she’s doing what Frank would have liked. She’s judging them against his standards. Frank expected everyone around him to excel, but it mattered to him if you tried hard. If he were here, he’d see that they are doing the best they can. That’s all you can expect of anyone. I know Alex has made some foolish investments and he doesn’t listen to advice very well, but it’s because he lacks confidence. He’s like the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. He needs someone to prop him up. It will be so easy for Sophia to decide he can’t be trusted with the money. But Kent’s right. It’s their money.”

  Evelyn massaged one temple as if it ached. “I’m afraid Kent’s going to make Sophia furious. Dear, sweet Kent. He’s been hurt, deep inside, and the pain eats away at him like acid. I begged him tonight to go ahead and meet with Sophia in the morning, keep everything pleasant for his brother and sisters. He’s furious with Sophia. He said she doesn’t have any right to be their judge. But Frank put it in his will that Sophia can decide. Now Rosie”—affection lifted Evelyn’s voice, shone in her eyes—“no one ever puts Rosie down. As for Val…Oh, I’m so worried about tomorrow.” Evelyn looked at me uncertainly. “I didn’t mean to burden you with this. Please forgive me.”

  “Perhaps everything will work out.” A positive approach sometimes turn lemons to lemonade. Often enough, lemons are lemons and the taste bitter. “I’ll be glad to talk to Jimmy. Perhaps he can persuade Sophia.”

  A soft smile curved her lips. Her eyes shone with hope. “That would be so kind of you.”

  I stepped into my cabin, felt the floor moving beneath my feet, braced against the wall for a moment. I felt a little queasy. I don’t know whether it was the apricot colada or the swift hug Evelyn had given me as we parted. She was buoyed by the possibility that my intervention with Jimmy might change Sophia’s attitude. I shouldn’t have given her false hope. Nothing Jimmy might say would be likely to sway Sophia, but tomorrow I would urge him to try.

  I walked forward and saw an envelope on the bed along with tomorrow’s ship program. The envelope wasn’t sealed. It contained a printout of a lengthy e-mail message. I smiled. Margaret Brown had come through, as old reporters always do.

  I undressed, slipped into a cotton gown, washed my face. I settled on the small sofa and began to read.

  Dear Henrie O,

  What are you doing on the Baltic? How does a kid’s death in CA figure in? I expect a blow-by-blow when you get home. It was fun to get your e-mail, first time I’ve received one from a ship at sea. Ah, the wonders of the cyberworld. It’s great for snoops, but I liked life better before I felt like a fly snagged in a sticky web with no place left to hide.

  I enjoyed digging until I nosed out the story. Sad one. Don’t know how much you know about the circumstances. Valerie was one of a pair of twins, youngest children of Frank and Anna Riordan. Five kids in all. Their mother died in 1988. Frank’s sister Evelyn came to live with him and take care of them. The kids were devastated, but Evelyn kept them on track, busy all the time, every sport and extracurricular activity possible. Got this from the housekeeper, who thinks Evelyn hung the moon. “Nicest lady in the world and she didn’t try to take their mother’s place but she’s like a good warm hen, cluck-clucking around the kids, keeping them warm, making them feel safe.” Then, as far as the kids were concerned, their world came to an end. Frank married Sophia Montgomery in 1990. You remember Sophia, don’t you? Top-notch documentary filmmaker, but about as maternal as a warthog. Although I suppose mama warthogs might take umbrage. Anyway, the bridal bouquet had scarcely been tossed when those kids were shipped off to boarding schools. Sophia did relent and let them come home for the summer. That would be the summer of ’91. The housekeeper said they were set to go back to their boarding schools and Rosie had pleaded with her dad to let the twins live with Evelyn. Rosie told him they were too little to be away at school and Evelyn would be glad to have them. According to the housekeeper, Sophia convinced Frank that was nonsense because the school said they were well adjusted, happy children and a change might not be in their best interests. You’d think Frank could also figure a change might not be in the school’s best financial interest, plus Sophia was the one who’d advised they be sent away to school and any change would make her look like she’d been wrong. Sophia does not take kindly to being wrong. Frank listened to Sophia, of course. The housekeeper said the kids were packed up and ready to leave the next day. Sophia had a fancy party for them, clowns and a mariachi band and a piñata for each kid. The housekeeper said Vic looked like a little thin ghost. She wouldn’t open her piñata, took it upstairs with her. In the morning, Vic was nowhere to be found. They looked everywhere in the house. It was Val who found the piñata at the edge of the cliff, crushed and broken like someone had stomped on it. Val looked down. Vic’s body was crumpled on the rocks, the water lifting it up and down. The death was listed officially as an accidental drowning. But everybody knew what had happened. During the night, Vic slipped out of the house, carrying that piñata. At the edge of the cliff, she smashed it and everything in it to pieces, and then she jumped.

  No wonder Val was withdrawn and remote. A cauldron of anger and bitterness bubbled within her. Now Sophia had planned a party for tomorrow evening, the anniversary of Vic’s death.

  I had to tell Jimmy.

  My dreams were somber, dark as a stormy day. Waves curled high to crash down upon sharp black rocks and the small body that moved with the water though life was gone…

  9

  Walkers and joggers moved briskly around the promenade, an oblong track that overlooked the pool deck. A massive woman in a blue swimsuit and yellow swim cap bobbed up and down as she swam the breaststroke across the small pool. It was cool enough on the promenade that I zipped up my windbreaker. I finished my coffee—I’d breakfasted early—and dropped the Styrofoam cup in a waste bin. I leaned on the dark wood railing and looked out at the sparkling ocean, the water the deep blue of a northern sea. The breeze stirred my hair, tugged at my slacks.

  Vic loved the ocean.

  That brief sentence from the twin’s obituary chilled me. I’d dreamt of her end, and now as I looked at the glistening blue water, riffled with whitecaps elegant as lace, sadness swept me.

  “Henrie O.” Jimmy’s tone was ebullient, the hand on my shoulder warm and living and strong.

  I turned toward him, still picturing sharp black rocks and roiling surf, glad to overlay that image with the reality of tall, rangy Jimmy, the breeze stirring his white hair, his face alight with pleasure.

  His smile fled. “What’s wrong?”

  Dear Jimmy. So quick to see and care. That came as no surprise. He had always been attuned to me. I felt a twist of pain. If I hadn’t turned him down…I cared for him, more than I had realized at the time. I’d felt there wasn’t love enough and a man deserves a wife who is wholly and unreservedly and passionately in love with him. Yet now I knew that I loved him more than Sophia ever would, and I knew that he must never guess how I felt. Where to start?

  “I’ve been learning a lot.” I needed to tell him about Vic. I was sure he didn’t know the sad story or he would have included it in his information about the Riordans. No one could know that history and not realize its impact on the present. If he knew, he would see at once that Sophia’s birthday dinner tonight should be rescheduled. Moreover, it was essential that we tell Sophia why I was here.

  …tell truth…

  I looked at him gravely. “After you went to get the postcards,
Sophia quizzed me about this trip. She wanted to know when I booked. Jimmy, she not only knows we were lovers, she thinks that’s why I’m here.”

  He was stunned. He stared deep into my eyes. I knew that he read certainty in my gaze. He turned a little away from me, staring out at the bright blue sea. He’d asked me on the trip because he felt I had a knack for reading people. Now that very quality was either lacking or unhappily accurate. His words were thoughtful, considering. “If she suspects us of being lovers now, she has no trust in me.”

  I wished for a reply to help him, but Jimmy would have to sort out his feelings about Sophia’s suspicions. “We need to tell her exactly why I’m here, that you’ve called on me to—”

  “What an excellent plan. Although, of course, the wife is always the last to know.” Sophia’s voice shook. The sun glinting on her blond curls gave her an aura of youthfulness, but there was nothing young about her face, bleak with despair and hurt.

  Jimmy scowled. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret, Sophia. Henrie O’s here to help me protect you because you won’t admit you’re in danger.”

  Startled, she gave me a quick searching look. “Protect me? How?”

  I hoped I could defuse this moment. “Jimmy called me after the boulder almost hit you. He asked me to come on the trip to see if I could help him figure out who pushed it. And who might have put poison in your sherry. It was”—I enunciated clearly—“the first time I had spoken with Jimmy since we parted, long before you and he married. When we arrived at Heathrow, it was the first time I had seen him since then.”

  I looked into her brilliantly blue—and suspicious—eyes. Our gazes locked, hers uncertain, mine unwavering.

  She lifted a shaking hand to shield her eyes from the sun and slowly turned to Jimmy. “Why did you call her? You have plenty of friends. You know policemen and lawyers and detectives. Why her?”