by Decked (lit)
By night the suite seemed even more glamorous than it had at cocktail hour. Mario dropped their overnight bags and reached for Immaculata. “Let me carry you over the threshold of the terrace,” he offered grandly. “Oops.”
“Mario, Mario, your back—I don’t want you in traction.”
“You’re right.” Mario rubbed his back. “I still have that tender spot.”
“That’s sciatica, Mario.”
“Tell you what. I’ll open the champagne. We’ll drink it on the balcony.”
Immaculata nodded. “I’ll just slip inside and put on my new lingerie set.”
A few minutes later, glasses in hand, Immaculata in her trailing black satin negligee and Mario in his boxer shorts and striped bathrobe toasted each other as the ship sped through the dark.
OXFORD
LIVINGSTON FINISHED HIS fourth cup of tea. It was 4:30 A.M. in Oxford. “Now, Philip,” he said kindly, “how do you suppose Miss Atwater got poisoned? Do you really think your aunt is capable of deliberately making anyone sick? Never mind risking an overdose!”
“N-no. No.” Philip was slumped in his chair. His fingertips were raw. “If only I hadn’t gone looking for that mulch.”
“Now that you know Miss Twyler has not been honest with you, do you think your wedding plans will change?”
Philip nodded, his eyes hollow. “Quite a shock. I suppose it won’t be possible to keep my finding of the body confidential.”
Livingston shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“I h-h-hope the headmaster will understand my predicament.” Philip looked directly at Livingston. “No, I’m not going to marry Val.”
“Isn’t it true that what she basically did was blackmail you into an engagement and marriage?”
“She’d stop by the house ... she could be very helpful. But I never, ever planned to marry her.”
“Did you ever get the impression that if you did not marry her she might inadvertently let slip your little secret?”
“Well, if-if-if it ever slipped out, in-in-inadvertently, as she put it, she reminded me that a w-w-wife cannot be made to testify against her hu-hu-husband.”
Livingston left him. In the hallway he growled to his assistant, “He’s got all the worldliness of a two-year-old. The lady holds the answers here.”
The assistant looked worried. “Sir, they’re not charged and they are exhausted.”
“And a young girl is dead, an elderly woman has been poisoned, and three children were left motherless. All when Valerie Twyler or Mary V. Cook was on the scene.”
AT SEA
AT 2 A.M. THE band played “After the Ball Is Over” and packed up their instruments. Gavin and Sylvie were sitting at the lounge bar.
“Some ball,” Gavin muttered.
Sylvie looked at her old friend compassionately. “You look down in the dumps. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing that a million bucks wouldn’t cure.” Gavin sipped his fourth vodka Collins. “You look pretty happy.”
Sylvie hesitated, shrugged, leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Milton asked me to meet him at his home in Aspen next week, after he drops Violet off in Miami. He can’t drop her hard enough for my money.”
“Do you think this is the one—I mean the one you can land?”
“Don’t be mean. I really think he’s terrific.”
“Don’t sign any prenuptials.”
At 2:15 A.M. Hardwick was ready. He had stopped at the casino, had a drink in the King’s Lounge, then said a friendly good night to the bartender. His bags were in the hall.
He pulled on a hooded gray sweatshirt and matching jogging pants. He’d take the stairs instead of the elevator. They’d be deserted now. If he did bump into anyone, they’d assume he was a health nut on his way to the deck for a last run at sea.
It took less than a minute. He reached the penthouse floor and listened. The steward’s station from which he’d stolen the key was around the bend in the corridor. There was no sign of life. The ten seconds he needed to get into the Exner suite and the ten to leave it and get back to the stairwell were his only vulnerable moments. Noiselessly he darted down the hall and slipped the key in the door of the Camelot Suite.
Nora Regan Reilly could not settle down. She moved, twisted, turned, plumped her pillow, sighed, sipped water from the glass on the night table. Beside her Luke was fast asleep.
Why was she so nervous? Ridiculous. She reminded herself that she always got antsy on the last night of a vacation. And it would be really fun to be with Regan. They were having brunch together at the Tavern on the Green in twelve hours. Only twelve hours more . . .
OXFORD
IT HAD BEEN a long, long night. But Val at last was showing signs of unraveling. She kept glancing at her watch.
Why?
“Surely you don’t have an appointment?” Livingston asked. “Most people don’t get together before seven A.M.”
In the last three hours he’d questioned Val about the felony murder in Greece. They had repeatedly gone over the fact that Val had tried to detain Helen Carvelous from going back to the house for her prescription sunglasses. That was why the Greek police had absolutely believed that Val had helped set up the burglary. Also, whoever broke into the home obviously knew the combination of the bedroom safe. And Val was always in and out of there with the children when Helen Carvelous dressed to go out. Helen Carvelous, who could never remember the combination of her safe, kept it written down in her dresser. Mary V. Cook knew that. “It still makes you an accessory to murder,” Livingston reminded her. “Greek prisons are not attractive. You are now an accessory after the fact to Athena Popolous’s death. The moment Philip told you about discovering the body, it was your duty as a citizen to report it.”
She looked at her watch again. Beads of perspiration were forming on her forehead.
“Philip has told me he has no intention of marrying you. Frankly, I should think that wouldn’t disturb you too much. From what I hear about Cameron Hard wick, he must be more your type.”
“Philip and I are very much in love. Philip is understandably upset that I did not confide in him.”
“Don’t fool yourself, Miss Twyler. This will be nasty for Philip . . . could even cost him his job. But believe me, you’ll never be mistress of Llewellyn Hall when Lady Exner dies. What is it, Miss Twyler?”
Val’s face had gone chalk white. “She’s going to die in a few minutes. And so is Regan Reilly.”
AT SEA
THE PHONE RANG. Groggily Regan opened her eyes and reached over, fumbling for the receiver. Fingers snapped around her wrist. A hand closed over her face. She felt her head being pushed down into the pillow. Electrified, she dug her teeth into the hand that was pressed against her mouth. With a muttered curse Hard-wick loosened his grasp. Regan managed to scream once as the phone continued to ring.
“No answer there, sir.” The ship’s operator sounded sleepy. “They probably turned it off for the night.”
“You must get through to them!”
“But they’re not answering, sir. I could have a message slipped under the door,” the sleepy voice droned.
Bloody nitwit, Livingston thought frantically. Waste of time trying to explain it to her. Regan’s mother and father . . . better to get to them . . . What in hell was the father’s name . . . ? “There’s another Reilly on board. Put me through.”
“We have two other Reillys, sir. Either Luke or—”
“Luke, that’s it. PUT ME THROUGH!”
Immaculata’s head was snuggled against Mario’s barrel chest. He was contentedly sleeping. She was enjoying the luxury of the king-sized bed, storing in her memory every detail of the expensive suite and looking forward to the joyous reunion with Mario Jr. and the family, now only a few hours away.
She froze as she heard a faint but distinctive sound. Was that a scream? Was Lady Exner or that nice Regan having a nightmare? Careful not to awaken Mario, she slipped out of bed, tiptoed to the door,
opened it a crack and listened. There was no further scream.
Someone was moving around in the other suite. Was Lady Exner sick? Maybe she should knock on the door and see if she could help. On the other hand, they were not supposed to be up here. Too uneasy to go back to bed, Immaculata stood indecisively, the door open a crack.
The phone rang. Like a shot Nora’s arm grabbed the receiver. “Hello.” She listened. “Oh my God,” she shrieked. “Luke, Luke, someone’s going to kill Regan!”
As Luke bolted from the bed, Nora sobbed, “Please, God, don’t let us be too late.”
Why doesn’t Veronica wake up? She could call for help, Regan thought. She twisted to the side, frantically trying to escape her attacker. She tried to scream again. The sound was muffled as a pillow closed over her face. She kicked the blankets free. With all her strength she flailed her feet against him, catching him in the stomach. As he doubled over she got a faint glimpse of his face and recognized the man she had asked Livingston to investigate. Cameron Hardwick!
She rolled off the bed onto the carpet, sprang to her feet and started for the door. Her one advantage was her ability to move very quickly. The thought flashed across her mind that Veronica must have been drugged. Don’t waste your breath screaming yet, she thought wildly. If she could get into the corridor . . .
Her hand was on the knob. She twisted it as an arm whipped around her waist, lifting her from the floor, a hand covered her mouth and she was pulled backward. An instant later the terrace door was sliding open. A cold blast of night wind hit her face. In her mind Regan could see the dark churning waters far below.
Gavin and Sylvie were just saying good night at the landing. He thought he was seeing an apparition. A barefooted Nora Regan Reilly, clad only in a clinging peach nightgown, sobbing wildly, was trying to keep up with her pajama-clad husband, who stopped uncertainly, realizing the staircase did not continue upward. Nora spotted Gavin.
“Gavin,” Nora cried. “Regan, Lady Exner, how do we get to them?”
Luke grabbed his shoulders. “You’ve been there. Where are they?”
Gavin took in their distraught expressions and did not waste time with explanations. “Follow me!” he yelled.
Regan managed to grab the outside handle of the terrace door. She held on to it although her fingers felt as if they would break. The grip on her mouth was released. Hardwick was using that hand to try and pry her fingers loose. Now she was able to scream. It seemed to her that her anguished cry was carried away by the sound of the wind. Hardwick managed to break her grip on the handle. His hand rushed to cover her mouth. She threw her head to one side. He lost his balance on the slippery deck and they fell heavily together.
It was a scream, Immaculata thought, that definitely was a scream.
“Mario,” she called urgently, “Mario, wake up.”
In an instant, Mario was beside her. “What’s the matter?”
She pointed to the Exner suite. “There’s something wrong in there. That’s the second time I heard someone scream. I’m sure of it.”
At that moment footsteps pounded down the hall. Gavin Gray was running shoulder to shoulder with a man Mario had noticed in the restaurant. The man’s wife and Sylvie were close behind them.
They stopped at the door of the Exner suite. Gavin twisted the handle. “It’s locked.” Astounded, Mario watched as he and the other man threw their weight against the door.
Another faint scream. “Oh, dear God, that’s Regan,” Nora shrieked.
Mario shoved Gavin aside. “Get out of the way.” The door splintered open as Mario threw his bull-like shoulder against it.
Mario and Luke stumbled together into the foyer. It was pitch-dark and cold inside the suite.
“Where the hell are the lights?” Luke demanded.
“Regan!” Nora screamed. “Regan, where are you?”
Gabby groped for the switches on the wall to the left of the doorframe. As he flipped them on, the suite and deck blazed into brightness.
The terrace door was open. Horrified, they saw Regan, her body arched over the railing, struggling to push away Cameron Hardwick. Her feet were flailing, her hair floating behind her as he relentlessly forced her backward.
Nora’s scream was the bow, Luke’s body the arrow. Racing across the sitting room, he dove through the doorway to the deck, butted Hardwick in the back, and as Regan fell managed to close his hand around her ankle when the rest of her body slid over the railing. Hardwick tackled him and they fell heavily to the deck as Luke frantically clawed at his daughter’s foot, struggling to maintain his grip on it. Miraculously the weight was lifted.
“I’ve got her,” Mario yelled. “I’ve got her.” He dropped Regan to the safety of the deck, then fell next to Luke on the thrashing Cameron Hardwick.
“She’s all right.” Immaculata pressed a near-hysterical Nora to her ample bosom. “My Mario and the man in the maroon pajamas saved her.”
Moans were coming from the king-sized bed. “I say, I say.”
Sylvie rushed over to soothe Lady Exner. “The poor thing will have a heart attack.”
Gavin, seeing that Regan was indeed all right, realized he had one last chance. He could always say he was getting a life preserver.
Forget the stool. He pushed over a chair and clambered up on it. Wildly he threw life preservers down. He reached for it. It was there. It was in his fingers. Thank you, Lord.
“Dear Mr. Gavin, what have you found?”
Lady Veronica Exner was fully awake.
KENNETH AND DALE came up the stairs, Kenneth with his beauty kit under one arm and a bottle of champagne under the other, as two grim-faced officers, each firmly holding the arms of a handcuffed Cameron Hard wick, emerged from the corridor that led to Lady Exner’s suite.
Dale stopped. “What’s going on?”
Hard wick ignored him.
Dale and Kenneth looked at each other. “Something’s happened.” They hurried down the hall, reached the open door of the suite and blinked in amazement. “Regan,” Kenneth said, “you didn’t tell us it was a pajama party. We would have brought more of the bubbly.”
Lady Exner, a dazzling bracelet on her arm, chirped, “Mr. Gavin found Mrs. Watkins’s bracelet. Isn’t that lovely?”
Dale rushed to Sylvie. “He found the bracelet?”
Sylvie looked at Gavin with a sympathetic but knowing glance. “In a way he found it.”
“But that’s a fifty-thousand-dollar reward.”
Gavin, who had been looking totally despondent, perked up. It might not be the Costa del Sol, but it was nothing to sneeze at.
Luke and Nora were standing by Regan as she talked on the phone to Superintendent Livingston. Now that the shock was over, Nora’s natural whodunit curiosity had set in.
Regan was listening intently. When she started to say good-bye, Luke took the phone from her. “We can’t thank you enough ...”
Nora said to Regan, “What did he tell you?”
The room became suddenly still. Veronica seemed to have forgotten the bracelet. “Philip? Did he have anything to do with this?”
“Oh no, no. It was Val,” Regan reassured her quickly. “Val and Cameron have been lovers off and on for years. He murdered Athena’s aunt in Greece when she walked in on him during the robbery. They were both questioned in connection with the crime. The police were sure it was an inside job, and Val was the prime suspect.
“As Livingston said, you can imagine how shocked Athena must have been to see Val walk into a pub in Oxford and join Hardwick, who was wearing her uncle’s priceless pocket watch that had been stolen with the other jewelry. According to Val’s confession, Hardwick had pulled it out several times while he was waiting for her and they were afraid Athena might have seen it. Hardwick was sitting in a booth and hadn’t noticed Athena was at the bar until Val came in and spotted her. Certainly it was obvious that Athena had put two and two together. Otherwise why would she have tried to jot down Val’s license plate on the matchbo
ok cover?”
Regan sighed. “They knew it would all be over if she went to the police. So they followed her out, caught up with her . . .”
“Why did she end up so near my property?” Veronica asked.
“Livingston thinks that Athena wanted to ask Philip what to do, and headed for Llewellyn Hall. She was emotionally dependent on him and had made him her unwilling confidant. Hardwick killed her near your house and they wanted to get rid of her body as fast as possible.”
Regan hesitated. “Veronica, you must realize that Philip was totally unaware of Val’s plans. She poisoned Penelope so that you’d be alone on this trip. Cameron Hardwick intended to make sure you didn’t reach New York alive. With you dead and Val married to Philip, your estate would have been sold to that hotel chain in a minute. She couldn’t take the chance that you might become close to your American relatives and change your will.”
“But she was the one who suggested you come with me,” Veronica protested.
“I had become a threat. She didn’t know how much Athena might have told me about her aunt’s death. She knew I was trying to recall everything. I keep a journal. I’m a trained investigator.”
“I see.” From her next question, it was clear that Veronica did see. “We met Val a year after the robbery in Greece. She always lived very modestly. What did she do with her share of all the valuable jewelry that was taken from the safe of Athena’s aunt?”
Regan grinned. “Veronica, anytime you want a job in my office, you’ve got one. Hardwick was obsessed with that watch and took it as his share. It’s priceless but would have been recognized immediately if he’d tried to sell it. He’s always kept it. Val sold the stones from her share of the jewelry for two hundred thousand dollars and put the money in a safe deposit box. Her finances have been under intense police scrutiny all these years and she knew it. She made what she considered a good bargain with her sometime lover. He would get rid of us. As Philip’s wife she could live in the style she wanted as soon as the Llewellyn Hall property was sold. And Hardwick would have the watch and get two hundred thousand dollars in cash.”
