“Not on your life. That will be a dead giveaway that something is wrong. We’re not trying to solve a crime. I don’t care who did it, as long as it’s not an employee.” Morrison paused, deep in thought. “Go over with me again what the butler said.”
Saunders replied, “His name is Raymond Broad. He tells a pretty straight story. As you know, when a meal is ordered for a certain time, our butlers, after tapping on the door, are permitted to enter the suite and leave the meal cart. This is a particularly necessary service for our older guests, many of whom are hard of hearing. Since the door to Lady Em’s bedroom was open, he says he glanced in, saw that she was still in bed, and then called out to her that her breakfast had been served. When she didn’t respond, he went back to his station, phoned her room, but got no answer. He thought that something must be wrong, returned to her suite and stepped inside the bedroom. Then he could see that the door to her safe was open and jewelry scattered on the floor. He went over to the bed and realized she did not appear to be breathing. He touched her hand and said her skin felt cold. That was when he used the suite phone to call Dr. Blake.”
“Tell him if he wants to keep his job he better keep his mouth shut about what he saw in that suite. Make it damn clear to him that she died in her sleep. That’s all.”
55
Professor Longworth was sitting alone at the breakfast table when he was joined by Brenda Martin. A woman I find particularly dull, he thought, as he stood up courteously and greeted her with a smile.
“And how is Lady Em this morning?” he asked. “I was concerned for her last evening. She looked very pale.”
“When I didn’t hear from her by nine o’clock, it meant that she was having breakfast in her suite,” Brenda replied. The waiter was at her side. She ordered her usual generous breakfast of orange juice, cantaloupe, poached eggs hollandaise, sausage and coffee.
It was then that Yvonne Pearson arrived at the table. “I couldn’t bear to be alone any longer,” she explained, her voice breaking. “I wanted to be with friends.” She had worn almost no makeup to accentuate her supposedly grief-stricken appearance. Not having carried any black clothes in her wardrobe, she’d done the next best thing. She was wearing a gray running suit. Her only jewelry was her diamond wedding band. She had slept soundly and knew that she did not portray the exhausted look that would have been most suitable. But as the waiter held her chair for her, she sighed. “I cried all night. All I could think of was my darling Roger falling. If only he had listened to me. I begged him often not to sit on the railing.” She brushed away an imaginary tear as she sat down and picked up the menu.
Brenda nodded sympathetically, but Professor Longworth, a keen student of human nature, saw through the fa?ade. She’s a good actress, he thought. I don’t think those two were happy with each other. It was clear there was tension between them. Roger was always fawning over Lady Em, and Yvonne didn’t hide the fact that she was bored with both of them.
At that moment the Captain’s somber announcement that Lady Em had passed away in her sleep was heard throughout the ship.
Brenda gasped, “Oh no,” stood up and ran from the dining room. “Why didn’t they tell me? Why didn’t they tell me?”
Henry Longworth and Yvonne Pearson exchanged shocked glances and then stared numbly at their plates.
At their table Alvirah, Willy, Anna DeMille and Devon Michaelson reacted to the announcement with disbelief. It was Anna who spoke first. “Two people dead in two days,” she gasped, “and my mother had a saying, ‘Death comes in threes.’?”
Alvirah was the one who responded. “I’ve heard that too, but I’m sure it’s just an old wives’ tale.”
At least I pray it is, she thought to herself.
56
It had been virtually impossible for Celia to fall asleep. The responsibility of holding the Cleopatra necklace for even a few overnight hours was overwhelming. The fact that Lady Em’s assistant, Brenda Martin, and her financial advisor, Roger Pearson, had probably been stealing from her was sickening. How miserable it must be to be eighty-six years old and realize that people you felt to be both close friends and well-paid employees could treat you like that. It’s such a shame that Lady Em doesn’t have any close relatives, Celia thought.
And neither do I was her next dismal thought. Since the terrible situation had begun, she had started to miss her father more and more. In a crazy way she was resentful that he had never remarried and that she might have had siblings. Half-siblings, she corrected herself, but that would be good enough for me. She knew that only a few of the friends who had invested in Steven’s hedge fund believed that she had been part of his scheme. Nevertheless, almost all of them had been visibly cool to her. The money they had been saving for the new house or condo or to start a family had vanished. Guilt by association, she thought bitterly, as her eyes finally began to close.
The sleep that finally did come had resulted in five hours of deep, heavy slumber. It was nine-thirty when she was finally awakened by the voice of Captain Fairfax. “It is with great regret that we announce the passing of Lady Emily Haywood some time during the night. . . .”
Lady Em is dead! That’s impossible, Celia thought. She sat up and got out of bed, her thoughts racing. Do they know that the Cleopatra necklace is missing? Would they have immediately opened her safe to look for it? What will they think if I just go right to the Captain now, give him the necklace, and explain the circumstances under which Lady Em gave it to me?
As she was thinking the problem through, she began to calm down. By giving the necklace to the Captain, she would show that she is not a thief. What thief would go to the trouble of stealing something and then hours later give it back?
Stop being so paranoid, she told herself. Everything will be fine.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing. It was her lawyer, Randolph Knowles. “Celia, I’m sorry to tell you this. I just spoke to the FBI. They definitely want to interview you as soon as you get back to New York.”
She had barely hung up when the phone rang again. It was Alvirah. “Celia, I didn’t want you to be blindsided. I’ve been watching the morning news. The story in People is being reported already.” She paused. “And you must have heard the Captain’s announcement that Lady Em had passed away.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Of course the Captain didn’t admit it, but it’s all over the news that she was murdered and the priceless Cleopatra necklace is missing.”