by Emily Queen
“It seems Vera may have been incorrect when she accused you of contributing only lightly to this investigation,” Rosemary said to Frederick, her twinkling eyes sliding to the woman in question.
“He has his moments,” was all Vera would say on the subject, but Frederick grinned from ear-to-ear. The two hadn’t made eye contact since their encounter at the betting house, and both Rosemary and Desmond suspected they were in for an interesting holiday given the circumstances.
When Max arrived, he found the foursome, plus Martin and Abigail, ensconced in the dining room, enjoying a long brunch. He did a double take when he noticed that Wadsworth occupied the seat at the head of the table, an unprecedented grin on his wrinkled face.
“I see you’ve dispensed with formality this morning, Rosemary,” he said, showing himself to the table.
“Max!” she cried and rose to help him to a seat, taking care not to bump the cast that covered his injured arm. “Are you all right?” she looked into his eyes with such concern for his wellbeing that he had a hard time responding.
“I’m just fine, Rose. Couldn’t be better, actually. It seems things have worked out better than I could have imagined. I have the lot of you to thank for that. Unofficially, of course, considering my new position.” Max positively beamed with pride. “I get to stay in London, and we’ve successfully eradicated the top offender on the force.”
Rosemary couldn’t deny that the idea of Max remaining in London had been a large portion of her motivation for exposing the betting house and the officers who didn’t bother to abide by the law themselves. She felt as though nothing could shake her spirits now, and looked around the table at her friends, feeling grateful and at peace.
***
“You invited him to Cyprus?” Vera asked incredulously when she and Rose were alone that evening, watching Anna finish up the last of the packing. The poor girl had performed the task several times by this point and had waved away the offers of assistance that Vera and Rose extended. It seemed she was feeling grateful now that her tooth had ceased throbbing and her face had shrunk back to its normal shape.
“Yes, Vera, I invited him. The poor man has a broken arm because of me. He’s been given a few weeks of leave, so why not take advantage of it? Not that it matters; he declined. His mother arrives today for a short visit before she relocates permanently, and he’s busy overseeing the work being done on her flat. It’s all for the best.”
Vera raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”
“Miss,” Anna interrupted, wringing her hands and appearing very much like a sad puppy dog, “I can’t seem to find your sapphire pendant. I’ve looked just everywhere for it, and it’s nowhere to be found.”
Rosemary felt her heart drop into her shoes. If she lost that necklace, she would never be able to forgive herself.
“It’s always best to think back to the last time you had it,” Vera commented lazily. “Things always turn up, and usually in the most unexpected places.”
“That’s because you leave your things lying around,” Rosemary said, a bit more harshly than she usually spoke to her best friend. “I’m sorry, but that necklace is priceless to me.”
“I’m sorry, Rose, really. What can we do?”
“I know I had it on the night we went to the theater—oh, my goodness, I know what happened,” Rosemary exclaimed, plopping back down on the bed. “It fell out of my handbag when that director man ran into me. There’s no way someone hasn’t found it and claimed it by now.” Tears sprang to her eyes and threatened to ruin her makeup.
Vera immediately switched into problem-solving mode. “We’ll go back and check. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
“You’re not even allowed back in the building, remember?” Rose said, defeated.
“And since when did we let something like that stop us?” Vera retorted. “Get up off your rear end and stop feeling sorry for yourself. We’ll find it.”
She was right, and Rosemary knew it. “all right. But how do you propose we get inside?”
“We buy a ticket, Rose,” Vera said as if it were the most obvious solution. Which, it sort of was, once Rose thought about it.
***
The pair arrived outside the Globe Theater just before the first curtain call. Vera pulled Rosemary around the far side of the building, yanking on her arm so hard Rose thought it might come clear out of the socket.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed, shaking Vera off and glaring at her. “What’s the rush?”
Vera declined to answer, instead grabbing a scruffy-looking kid by the back of his jacket and spinning him around to face her. “Two tickets, now,” she demanded before he fully realized what was happening.
“Okay, okay. Didn’t need to manhandle me, did ya?” he whined.
“Probably not, but it was fun,” Vera retorted, exchanging money for tickets and letting the young hawker loose. “I hate to stoop this low, but we’re running out of time,” she said to Rose once he’d disappeared down the block. She mumbled something about hawkers driving up ticket prices, which Rosemary ignored.
Tickets in hand, they entered and started to make a beeline for the door Vera indicated would deposit them closest to the backstage area.
“Rose?” she would have recognized the voice even in a crowd and whirled around to face Max, who wasn’t alone. Dressed in a well-fitting suit and tie, he looked so handsome Rosemary’s throat went dry as desert sand. A hand was clasped around his good arm, and when Rosemary tore her eyes from his face, she realized with a start that Max was accompanied by a date.
“Max!” she squeaked, sliding her eyes sideways towards the woman and pasting a smile on her face. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Nor I you. Please, Rosemary, meet my mother, Ariadne Whittington. Mother, this is Rosemary Lillywhite.”
Rose would have almost preferred if Max’s companion had been an actual date; it would have been far less awkward than meeting his mother with absolutely zero advance notice.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Mrs. Whittington said, making no effort to reach for Rosemary’s hand. Never in her life had Rose felt so uncomfortable, as though she were being judged and found wanting. “I do thank you for your contribution to my new flat, although the wallpaper is a touch too feminine for my tastes.” The woman had mastered the art of wrapping a subtle dig inside a compliment.
“She’s being difficult,” Max said, his cheeks burning pink. “She couldn’t be happier, could you mother?”
“I’m not sure you want me to answer that question, dear,” Mrs. Whittington replied. “I’d like to be shown to my seat now. The show is about to go on, and it’s abhorrently rude to enter once the lights have gone out.”
Max shot an apologetic look at Rosemary before leading his mother into the theater. “Have a lovely time in Cyprus, Rose,” he tossed over his shoulder.
All Rosemary could do was stare after them, and it took several seconds for Vera to rouse her. Once again, Rose felt herself being pulled along behind her friend. They made it to the backstage area without attracting attention, since all eyes were focused on the stage.
“Here’s where you dropped your handbag,” Vera said, taking a look around to ensure nobody was watching them before kneeling onto the floor to search for the missing necklace.
“I don’t see it anywhere,” Rosemary lamented, plopping down on her backside. A rustle of curtain and a few thumping steps later, just when Rose thought they were about to get caught, Vera’s friend Samuel came bustling into the hallway.
“Vera, dear, what are you doing here?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
After a short explanation, Samuel smiled and beckoned them over to his station. “Is this what you’re looking for?” he asked, holding up the beloved sapphire necklace.
Rosemary could hardly believe her good fortune and fastened it back around her neck, making a silent vow to send a donation to the actors guild the second she returned from holiday. “You have no idea wh
at this means to me. Thank you,” she said graciously.
“Think nothing of it, dear, but please, you two, leave me now,” he chided. “I have to be in full makeup for my next scene.”
With a nod of understanding, Vera kissed him on the cheek, and the pair retreated back into the theater just in time to hear Jennie Bryer’s Titania bickering with Oberon. “These are the forgeries of jealousy…” she recited, berating the faerie king for his part in the destruction of the mortal world.
As Vera watched with bated breath, the words took on a whole new meaning. It had been jealousy that drove her hatred towards Jennie, and suddenly she realized she had been acting like a spoiled child.
Rosemary raised an eyebrow as she watched, but said nothing.
“Hell, she’s not so bad, is she?” Vera said, winking at Rosemary and then sashaying up the aisle with a spring in her step.
The end
Death on the Isle of Love
Emily Queen
Chapter 1
“Attention, passengers. We’ll be docking in Cyprus in fifteen minutes. Local time is 7:52 a.m. Please be ready to disembark promptly.”
The disembodied voice sounded oddly mechanical through the loudspeaker, but Rosemary Lillywhite caught the gist of the statement. With barely contained excitement, she exchanged grins with her best friend—one of her three traveling companions—who stood alongside her on the deck waiting for their destination to come into view.
That Vera Blackburn had joined her on this tropical adventure wasn’t surprising; the beautiful, spunky actress could always be counted on to come through, especially when a healthy dose of fun in any form was involved.
Rosemary’s brother, Frederick, on the other hand, had finally learned to save his shenanigans for the weekends after having put in a full week’s worth of work at their father’s company, Woolridge & Sons.
With the death of their older brother—also Vera’s first and, to her mind, one true love—Frederick had become the only male Woolridge heir, and their father impressed upon him the duty to learn every nuance of the family business. In a shocking turn of events, Freddie took his job seriously. In fact, it had taken the lingering stain of a murder investigation—with Frederick as the prime suspect—to convince him a sabbatical was in order.
Rounding out the foursome was Desmond Cooper, Frederick’s longtime mate and Rosemary’s childhood crush. She’d given up on the fantasy of Des a split second after she’d laid eyes on Andrew Lillywhite, but her husband’s untimely death the year before had put Rose back on the market. At least, according to anyone who felt the need to comment on the situation—such as her mother and, of course, Vera. While Rosemary still got butterflies in her stomach when she was around Desmond, the thought of becoming romantically involved with a man other than her late husband turned their flight into a swarm that made her stomach ache.
Sunny days, sandy beaches, and exotic cocktails near sparkling waters had sounded far too tempting after the ordeal of clearing Frederick’s good name, and Rosemary had, for once, thrown caution to the wind and decided to treat herself to a much-needed holiday.
As if her life wasn’t complicated enough, there was Detective Inspector Maximilian Whittington back in London to consider. Max, a handsome fellow and a stalwart friend, had worked closely with Andrew in his private investigating enterprise and then, during Freddie’s untimely brush with murder, had stepped in to help clear her brother’s name.
While Rosemary had been glad of the help, she was not, as Vera continued to insist, in love with Max. Nor was she, as Vera also continued to insist, the lady who doth protest too much. Max was merely a friend, and even if the idea of a romance with him intrigued her, she considered it best to push those feelings aside. That she could do so was, in Rosemary’s estimation, a sign that she wasn’t ready.
Falling in love should overwhelm all of a woman’s senses, not trigger her common sense. That was how it had happened with Andrew and was now the measure by which she would gauge all such experiences. Not that Rose intended to have a great many of them.
“We’re finally here, Rosie,” Vera squealed at a pitch that could have cut glass. “The Isle of Love, that’s what they call Cyprus you know,” she said, her emerald eyes sparkling from beneath a sheaf of inky lashes.
Rosemary cocked an eyebrow at her friend. “Yes, I’m aware of the island’s nickname, as you’ve mentioned it approximately eighty-seven times since we left London.”
“It’s just so beautiful, I can’t stand it,” Vera continued as if Rosemary hadn’t said a word. “You can almost feel the romance, and we haven’t even docked yet.”
“There are other things in life besides men, you know.”
When Vera smiled, even the sun seemed to dim a little in comparison. “Well, of course there are, dear one, but none so devilishly interesting.”
“Where are Fred and Des, anyway?” Rosemary changed the subject while her eyes roamed the deck in search of her brother’s head of golden curls. “What am I saying? Obviously, we’ll find them—”
“Guzzling down cocktails,” Vera finished for her. “And I imagine poor Anna is still in the loo, sicking up.” Rosemary’s maid had battled motion sickness ever since they’d boarded the train in London and had turned an ugly shade of green before the ship had even pulled completely away from the dock.
“Poor girl. She might have mentioned she didn’t travel well,” Rosemary said, a note of worry in her voice.
“I expect she was overcome by the excitement of a holiday. She’ll come right once her feet are back on solid ground, though I do wonder if she’ll spend the entire holiday dreading the return trip.”
Rosemary sighed. “Or trying to talk the fair Cecily into hiring her on to avoid it.”
“Speaking of, how well do you know this Cecily DeVant person?” Vera asked.
“Not at all, really, she hasn’t visited England since I was quite young, and I hardly remember the occasion. Still, as many times as I have listened to Mother wax on about her oldest and dearest friend, I feel as if I know her.”
Gripping the rail, Vera raised her face and leaned into the wind. “What’s her story?” she said, as the breeze ruffled her hair. “How did she come to be running a hotel in Cyprus of all places?”
Those details hadn’t been as important to Rose’s mother as passing along what she perceived as pertinent facts about the hotel.
“No idea, really. All I know is that whoever built the hotel went to great expense to make it as lavish as possible.”
Rose watched with a hand at the ready to catch her friend should Vera lean too far.
“I’d have been happy to stay in any sort of place. Travel is meant to broaden one’s experience, after all.”
Rosemary grinned. “Oh, I daresay you’ll appreciate the finer amenities on offer at the Aphrodite Sands. Mother positively gushed over the lift of all things. According to Cecily, it was a task of great endurance and expense to have it shipped over and installed. I’m sure it couldn’t have taken as long as it did for Mother to tell the story.”
“So long as there’s sand, sun, and good gin, I can’t imagine we’ll lack for anything.” Taking Rose by the arm, Vera turned away from the rail, and the view.
“Now,” she continued, “I estimate we have another ten minutes, which leaves just enough time for one last mimosa, don’t you think?”
“Lead on, but for heaven’s sake, Vera, don’t go that way.” Having spied three elderly women arguing over deck chairs to her left, Rose dragged Vera on a circuitous route to the bar. Halfway through the first day of their voyage, Mrs. Edina Haversham discovered Vera sunning herself on the forward deck and attached herself like a leech to her favorite actress.
At every turn, she and two other fluffy dowagers sprang out of nowhere demanding Vera recite lines from one play or another.
“Your flock of admirers will see us and ask you to perform again. We’ll never get our mimosa, and I don’t think I could take another dramatic death
scene reenactment.”
“Why, Rosemary darling, I’m positively gutted. Did you not say my Desdemona was a revelation?” Vera’s eyes twinkled with great humor.
“And so it was,” Rose said with a grin. “The first time. Alas, with numerous repetitions, I find Desdemona pales.”
Having avoided the old biddies, the pair strolled over to where Frederick and Desmond held court at the bar. Vera ordered and handed a frothy yellow drink to her friend and took a satisfying sip of her own. “These are going to be dangerous,” she mused, elbowing Frederick sharply for no real reason other than to interrupt the boastful story he’d been telling the two attractive women who were hanging on his every word.
“…and then, I punched him square in the jaw—ouch!” he said, turning to Vera in surprise. “What was that for?” he asked, his voice at a slightly higher pitch than normal.
“Oh, you know. Nothing in particular.” Vera’s eyes sparkled prettily but with razor sharpness. She linked arms with Rosemary and walked back towards a pair of deck chairs. “He’s going to get what’s coming to him, that I can promise.”
“When he least expects it, I’m sure,” Rosemary said with a wry smile. She was used to playing referee between her brother and her best friend, whose relationship was forever fraught with conflict. Desmond nearly got his head bitten off on the train when he posited the opinion that the constant bickering smelt of romantic interest. Now, as Rose met his eyes across the platform, she knew his amused expression meant he was even more convinced of the notion than ever before. “At least this time you have a good reason for knocking him down a peg or two.”
“Darned right I do,” Vera agreed, recalling the moment when she and Frederick had been called upon to distract the attention of a group of corrupt gamblers. Given no further order than to create a diversion, Frederick had chosen to run his hand up her backside. His ploy, though ill-advised, had done the trick. Outraged, Vera had kicked up a fuss, but even now, she flushed at the memory of how his hand had felt on her.
