And never let it go, she thought wistfully, as she accepted a glass of wine.
Alvirah was wearing the beige gown and matching jacket that Willy liked best. In the late afternoon she had had her hair done at the beauty salon and even allowed herself to be persuaded to have light makeup applied to her face.
As always, Captain Fairfax was an impeccable host. The intense worry he was harboring did not show in his face or manner. He had three concerns: the Man with One Thousand Faces might be in this room right now salivating for Lady Haywood’s emeralds, the sea was already beginning to show a trace of the heavy storm they were sailing into, and the engine problem had already put them behind schedule.
Ted Cavanaugh, the partner in a law firm, was the next guest to come over to him. Fairfax had been made aware of his background. Son of the former ambassador to Egypt and the Court of Saint James, celebrated for seeking to reclaim stolen antiquities. The Captain had a twenty-three-year-old daughter. This is the kind of chap I wish Lisa would bring home, he thought. Good-looking, successful, impeccable family background, instead of that long-haired musician, a harmonica player.
He extended his hand to Ted. “Welcome, Mr. Cavanaugh. I hope you have been enjoying your cruise.”
“Indeed I have been,” Ted replied while returning the Captain’s firm handshake.
Fairfax smiled.
His attention was diverted by the arrival of Devon Michaelson, the Interpol agent whose cover was a retired engineer. The Captain moved across the room to greet him but was blocked by Anna DeMille’s swift rush to Michaelson’s side. Instead he turned to the couple on his left. He had been briefed on them. The Meehans had won forty million dollars in the lottery about five years ago, and Mrs. Meehan had gained prominence as a newspaper columnist who also managed to solve crimes.
“Mr. and Mrs. Meehan,” he said with the pleasant smile that always masked his true concerns.
“Alvirah and Willy,” Alvirah said promptly. “Captain, it’s such a privilege to be on the maiden voyage of this beautiful ship. It will always be a wonderful memory for us.”
At that moment the door was pushed open and Yvonne Pearson burst in. “My husband fell overboard!” she shrieked. “My husband fell overboard!”
38
“Come with me” had been Captain Fairfax’s response to an emotionally wrought Yvonne. He led her out of the crowded lounge to a private room. As they walked, he barked orders into his phone instructing John Saunders, his chief of security, to meet him at the purser’s desk. It was only when the door to the small office was closed behind him that he and Saunders began to interview Yvonne.
“Mrs. Pearson,” Fairfax began, “tell me precisely what you saw and heard in regard to what happened to your husband.”
Yvonne spoke haltingly, trying to choke back sobs. “We, I mean Roger and I, were in our suite. We were talking out on the balcony. We had both had a few drinks. Roger was sitting up on the railing. I asked him to not do that. He told me to mind my own business. And then he fell.” Yvonne buried her head in her hands and sobbed.
“Mrs. Pearson,” the Captain began, “I know how upsetting this is for you, and I’m sorry to have to ask you all these questions. I guarantee you we want to find your husband just as much as you do. But before I consider turning this ship around and going back to try to find him, I have to know exactly what you saw.”
Yvonne wiped tears away and accepted the tissue offered by Saunders. Between sniffles a thought occurred to her. She had immediately raced to the cocktail lounge to announce that Roger had gone overboard. She was desperately worried that she should have waited longer. She had no idea how long it would take for the ship to turn around and go back. Or would they quickly send a small boat back to look for him? But the Captain doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to begin the search, she thought.
“I’m sorry. This is so upsetting. I have to admit I was upset when Roger told me to mind my own business. I went back in the suite and I angrily slid the balcony door shut behind me. A minute later when I went back out to tell him it was time to head over to the cocktail party, he was gone.” She burst into tears again, then considered swooning, perhaps even a full-blown faint, but she wasn’t certain it would appear genuine.
It was Saunders who asked the next question, while holding out another tissue. “Mrs. Pearson, you said, ‘a minute later,’ you went out to the balcony and your husband was gone. The reason we are questioning you so closely is that most reports of a person going overboard turn out to be false alarms. The missing person is almost always located somewhere else on the ship, sometimes unfortunately in a place he shouldn’t be. What precisely did you do in that minute between when you last saw your husband on the balcony sitting on the deck rail and when you went back to get him to go to the cocktail party?”
Yvonne made a conscious effort to hide an immense wave of relief that was washing over her. “I did go into the bathroom for just a moment.”
“Did you close the door when you went to the bathroom?” Saunders asked.
“Of course I did.”
“So you were in the bathroom for at least a minute with the door closed,” the Captain said. “And is it possible that your husband could have left the suite while you,” he hesitated, “had the door closed?”
“Well, I certainly think I would have heard the balcony door and then the suite door open and close,” she said. “But, you know, the flush noise is a little on the loud side.”
“It is, and I apologize for that,” the Captain said. “But if I slow this ship down or turn it around, we would lose the opportunity to reach Southampton on time. This would be a major disruption for our guests, many of whom are heading straight to the airports for scheduled flights. I recommend that we conduct a thorough search of the ship to try to find your husband. If we are not successful, we will then consider what to do next.”
Saunders reached forward and handed Yvonne a sheet of paper and a pen. “Mrs. Pearson. There is a protocol that we follow in these unfortunate situations. I am going to ask you to complete this form that will include your written account of what happened in your suite around the time you last saw your husband. When you are finished and you have reviewed it for accuracy, you and I will both sign the form.”
Yvonne was feeling absolutely buoyant. “I so appreciate that we are all doing everything we can to find my poor dear Roger.”
39
Yvonne had refused Captain Fairfax’s offer to have one of his men accompany her back to her cabin. “I’ll be all right,” she had said. “I just need some time alone to pray for my dear Roger.”