A few minutes later the waiter was placing their drinks on the table. Chardonnay for Celia, vodka on the rocks for Ted.
Ted followed his plan to stay away from raising the topic of Lady Em’s death or the Cleopatra necklace. Instead he asked, “Celia, you must have done a lot of studying to become such a knowledgeable gemologist. Is there a special kind of school that you attended?”
It was an easy question on a safe topic. “I went to England after college and became a fellow at the Gemological Institute of Great Britain. But as one of the professors said, ‘It takes a lifetime to become a master gemologist.’?”
“How did you become interested in that as a career?”
Ted did not miss the troubled expression on Celia’s face. Celia was recalling that she had had a similar conversation with Professor Longworth only a few days ago, about how she got started in the jewelry business. Was it only a few days? She recalled being uncomfortable then, but for whatever reason she felt comfortable talking to Ted Cavanaugh.
“My father was a gemologist. When I was little, I loved to put jewelry, fake of course, on my dolls. He began to teach me the difference between the fakes and the really good stuff, and how to use a loupe.” Then she added, “He died two years ago. He left me two hundred fifty thousand dollars, which I lost in a scam.”
She looked directly at him. “I read about what happened to you,” Ted admitted.
“Then you know that a lot of people think I was in on the fraud and I helped cheat them out of their hard-earned money.”
“I read the account your ex-fiancé gave to People magazine—”
“It’s a total lie!” Celia said heatedly.
Ted considered, then responded. “If it’s any consolation, I simply can’t envision you as a thief. Or a murderer.” Why am I making a statement like that? he asked himself. Because it’s true, he thought.
“Why would he do this to me?”
“I think the obvious first reason is revenge that you didn’t stick by him. The second obvious reason is that he’s looking for a better plea deal from the U.S. Attorney’s Office. He basically confessed in the article, but he knows they already have the evidence to convict him. He’s telling them that you were involved and he’ll cooperate with them against you. I really think that’s what’s going on.”
“But I was a victim too,” Celia protested.
“I know that, Celia, I know that.”
He went back to a safe subject. “You said that your father was a gemologist and that he died two years ago. How about your mother?”
“She died when I was a baby.”
“Brothers? Sisters?”
“None. My father never remarried. And can you believe I’m angry at him that he didn’t? I would love to have brothers and sisters.”
Ted thought of his own background. His mother and father were still in great shape, and they and his two brothers were a frequent presence in his life. “I’m sure you have a lot of good friends?”
Celia shook her head. “I used to. I’m afraid I lost some very good friends, the ones who invested in Steven’s fund.”
“Surely they don’t blame you?”
“I introduced them to Steven and he has a golden tongue. That doesn’t make me very popular with them. My friends weren’t wealthy. It really hurt them when they lost their money.”
I’ll bet that it hurt you too, Ted thought, but didn’t voice the opinion. Instead he leaned back, took a sip of his drink, looked at Celia. He was sure to his very soul that she was innocent of Lady Em’s murder and that she was not a thief. Her eyes are so sad, he thought. She’s been through so much.
68
Brenda attended Celia’s presentation and admitted to herself that Celia was very knowledgeable about gems. She had been getting close to Lady Em, Brenda thought. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Em had asked her to take a close look at the picnic bracelet. But even if she did, it would be Celia’s word against mine, she reassured herself. And certainly with her fiancé implicating her in a crime, I’ll bet they won’t believe a word Celia says.
Ralphie had emailed to express his sorrow regarding Lady Em’s passing. Wisely, he had not included any mention of Lady Em’s jewelry.
Brenda made her way upstairs, smiling particularly at people whose faces she recognized. A number of them had offered condolences, recognizing that she had been Lady Em’s assistant for many years. When she reached her room, she went directly to the phone and called Ralph.
When he answered, she started by saying, “Don’t say too much. You never know if these conversations are being recorded.”
“I understand,” he replied. “How are you, honey?”
Brenda blushed. It was so nice after all these years to have someone call her “honey.” Even her mother had not been given to voicing any endearments.
“I’m good, sweetie,” she promised, “although, of course, I’m heartsick about Lady Em’s death. But it does mean that I’m free of the responsibility of being at her beck and call. So if you still want me to marry you, I’ll be home this Sunday.”
“Of course, I’ll be waiting for you,” Ralph said. “I’ve been wanting to be married to you since the first day we met. I promise you now that Lady Em is gone, things are going to be very different.”
“Yes, they will be,” Brenda agreed. “Your buttercup says good-bye for now, my Ralphie. Kisses.”
She hung up the phone smiling. I wonder how long it will be before I get the three hundred thousand from the estate. It wouldn’t have killed her to leave me half a million, or even a million bucks, she thought. I deserve it.
Satisfied with her self-justification, Brenda picked up the book she had been intending to start. She walked over and opened the door to the balcony. It was much too windy to go out. She was itching for this voyage to be over so she could get back to New York.
Brenda could feel Ralphie’s arms around her as she began to read the tender passages in Jane Eyre’s journey from tragedy after tragedy to reconciliation with Mr. Rochester. He reminds me of Ralphie, she thought, as the picture evolved in her mind of the towering figure who was Jane Eyre’s hero. She settled back in the club chair and began to read again.
69
Devon Michaelson attended the session with Celia and the entertainment director but only half listened to both the questions and responses. He was still seething from his meeting with Gregory Morrison and the ship owner’s obnoxious follow-up phone call minutes later.
“You’re from Interpol, right?” Morrison had asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“And you’re on this ship specifically to safeguard the Cleopatra necklace?”
“That is true.”