Set Sail for Murder

by Carolyn Hart

  “You were alone all evening?”

  I wasn’t surprised the captain was skeptical. Rosie was not the kind of woman to spend an evening by herself except in the most unusual of circumstances.

  Her smile was genuine, the implicit compliment accepted. “Yes, I was.” She looked composed and confident.

  He wrote on his pad, looked at Kent.

  Kent shrugged. “Same song, second verse. I didn’t see Sophia after Thursday night, never planned to see her again. I was finished with the lady. She could whistle, but this dog didn’t intend to come. Thursday night was my farewell to Pop’s insanity. Friday night I wasn’t paying attention to time. I spent most of the evening up in the computer bay, sending e-mails.” For an instant, his eyes were hot points of anger. “And yeah”—his glance at Jimmy was cold—“Sophia screwed up my love life, but”—he jerked his head toward me—“thanks to Mrs. Collins, I think I can straighten everything out. You can check what time my e-mails went out. I don’t know that it matters. I took some breaks, got a couple of beers, went to the john. I got back to my cabin around eleven, must have just missed seeing my sis. But I never saw Sophia after Thursday night.”

  “None of us saw her after Thursday.” Madge Riordan looked at Captain Wilson with her blue eyes wide. “It’s like Kent said. We didn’t have any reason to talk to her. Friday night Alex and I watched the movie Calendar Girls. You know, the funny one about the ladies who pose nude for a calendar to raise money. Alex and I loved it.”

  I was looking at Alex. His expression was tense.

  Madge rushed on. “There’s a scene where—”

  Captain Wilson was brisk. “Yes, Mrs. Riordan. You watched the film. And then?”

  She looked at him earnestly. “We stayed for the whole thing. We didn’t get back to our cabin until eleven-thirty. We must have just missed all the excitement when you started looking for Sophia.”

  The lounge was darkened for the showing of a movie. It would be easy to slip out unnoticed and return. I suspected Madge and Alex would have no difficulty describing the plot, the funniest scenes. Movies shown in the lounge were also repeated throughout the day on cabin television.

  Madge relaxed back in her seat. Was it the relief of an innocent person or was she hiding something?

  Captain Wilson turned to me. “Mrs. Collins, you are the last person to have seen Mrs. Lennox.”

  “I am the last person who admits to seeing Mrs. Lennox.” I wanted the distinction to be made.

  “Indeed. Describe your meeting with her.” His gaze was intent, his blue eyes speculative and thoughtful.

  I intended to go about it in my own way. “I took Mrs. Lennox materials I received from her husband prior to the trip. I was convinced that once she read Jimmy’s letter and the information he had sent to me about the Riordan family and the trust funds, she would understand that her husband was trying to protect her and that the danger to her came from a member of the Riordan family.”

  “That’s what they’ve claimed all along.” Madge’s voice was shrill, her glare was venomous.

  I ignored her. “As I expected, once Mrs. Lennox read the letter she realized she had been mistaken in suspecting her husband. In fact, almost her last words to me were her hope that he would forgive her. She intended to call and ask him to come and see her.”

  Captain Wilson’s eyes narrowed. “Describe the materials you took to her cabin.”

  The request surprised me. “I left them on the coffee table. You can read them, add them to the record.”

  “Describe them, please.”

  I was puzzled. “An overnight mailer, a letter from Jimmy, biographical data about each of the Riordans, pictures of Sophia and the Riordans.”

  The captain’s voice was measured. “No such materials were found in Mrs. Lennox’s cabin.”

  I stared at him, bewildered. “I left everything with her. The letter and the dossiers were spread out on the coffee table.” I realized as I spoke that neither Jimmy nor I could prove the existence of any of the papers. Captain Wilson and Staff Captain Glenn could conclude that Jimmy and I had engaged in an elaborate charade, our final objective Sophia’s murder with the Riordans as suspects-in-waiting.

  “There were no such papers.” His voice was decisive.

  Evelyn looked shocked. Val sat in quiet misery with no apparent interest in her surroundings. Rosie frowned. Kent gave a low whistle, raised an eyebrow. Madge hissed in Alex’s ear.

  Jimmy and I had no proof that anything we’d reported was true. There was no way we could prove—suddenly, I felt almost giddy with relief. “Sophia called Jimmy. She left him a message.”

  “I told Glenn last night.” Jimmy’s voice was weary. “I found Sophia’s message when I came down to my cabin. Sophia said she was sorry for even thinking I might have pushed her, that she wasn’t thinking straight, that she”—he took a breath—“was jealous. She said Henrie O had brought my letter to her and now she understood. She asked me to forgive her.”

  Captain Wilson watched Jimmy intently. “Would you say that the tenor of her message was emotional?”

  Jimmy’s face was abruptly ridged with lines of distress. He was long in answering. “Yes.”

  “Yet”—and the captain’s eyes were cold—“you did not save that message. If your description of the message is accurate, why did you erase it? Wouldn’t the recipient of such a message have been inclined to save it, perhaps to listen to it again? Instead, you erased that message. Why, Mr. Lennox?”

  Jimmy slumped back in his chair. He stared toward the windows giving onto the sea, his face heavy with sorrow. “I was furious. I didn’t see anything beyond the way she’d treated me. God forgive me, I didn’t help her.”

  I leaned forward. “Is there a record of a call from Sophia’s suite to Jimmy’s cabin?” Even as I asked, I knew an electronic record was no help. As far as the captain and Glenn were concerned, every word I’d uttered could be a lie. I could have gone to see Sophia, possibly Jimmy and I together, killed her, pushed her overboard, then called his cabin and left a message which, of course, he later deleted.

  Captain Wilson glanced at his notes. “A call was made from Suite 6088 to Cabin 6048 at twenty-two hundred eighteen. If it was made by Mrs. Lennox, that is the last indication that she was alive.” He turned to me. “Where did you go when you left Mrs. Lennox’s suite?”

  “Diogenes Bar. I was there until I left with Val Riordan about half past eleven.” I was sure the waiter would remember helping me with Val, but my presence there was no proof of innocence.

  Captain Wilson folded his hands, gazed at Jimmy. “Mr. Lennox?”

  Jimmy met his stare with a trace of anger. “I’ve already told Glenn. Topside bar. Sundeck. Down to my cabin around eleven.”

  “You claim that you did not enter Mrs. Lennox’s cabin last night?” There was a heavy finality to Captain Wilson’s voice.

  “I did not.” Jimmy’s face was set in hard, defiant lines.

  Captain Wilson folded his arms. His gaze was steely. “Mr. Lennox, your key was used to enter Suite 6088 at precisely twenty-three oh-three Friday evening. Every time an electronic key is inserted into a cabin lock, the code on the back of the key registers which key was used. The key that opened the door at that moment was one of two keys issued to that suite when you boarded. Mrs. Lennox’s key was in her purse.”

  Jimmy looked stunned. “That’s impossible. I left that key in the bowl on the coffee table Thursday night.” He looked at Glenn. “You saw me leave it. Sophia kicked me out, asked for my key.”

  “No folder was found in the bowl. Neither the folder nor the key within it.” Glenn’s eyes narrowed. “To be precise, Mr. Lennox, I saw you toss a key folder into the bowl. If you recall, you accepted a new key folder from me, placed it in your right trouser pocket. Mrs. Lennox asked for your key to her cabin. You reached into your left hip pocket, but it is possible that you edged the card loose in your pocket and threw the folder—without the key card—into the bowl.�
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  Across the table, Kent flipped open his key folder, edged the key from behind its plastic sheath. He looked at Jimmy, his gaze wondering.

  I wanted to cry out that Jimmy could not possibly have managed such a sleight of hand, but it could have happened. I knew it had not. I knew Jimmy. There were many Jimmys, but never a crafty, wily, dangerous Jimmy.

  Jimmy’s face was bleak. “You give me credit for incredibly quick thinking. Murderous thinking, I take it.”

  Captain Wilson held up a hand. “I am not implying murder, Mr. Lennox. However, we have to consider the facts as we find them. The key must be explained. It would be understandable”—he picked his words carefully—“if you came to see Mrs. Lennox and if you told her that your differences were irreconcilable, she might have been so distraught after you left she decided upon suicide.”

  “In a word, no.” Jimmy was emphatic. “It didn’t happen. If there had been such an exchange with my wife, I can assure you suicide would never have been her choice. Moreover, I accept responsibility for my actions. I’m guilty for not responding when she reached out to me. But that’s all I’m guilty of. I didn’t see Sophia. I didn’t quarrel with her. I never hurt her.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve told you everything I know. I did not keep the key, nor did I use it last night. If anyone entered the cabin with that key, it wasn’t me.”

  21

  No one spoke as we filed out of the bridge area into the public foyer. Glenn accompanied us. He remained in the doorway and looked toward Jimmy and me and Kent. “The captain requests that all passengers who traveled with Mrs. Lennox complete the voyage and disembark when the Clio reaches the port of London. However, you may join shore excursions if you wish.” His meaning was clear. We might have some freedom of movement, but we were to continue as passengers for the duration of the voyage. He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned back and the door closed.

  Kent scowled. “That makes one more week before I can see Heather. Sophia is as much trouble dead as she was alive.”

  Jimmy took a step toward him, his fists doubling. I grabbed his arm, then stepped toward Kent. “You told everyone Jimmy and I were leaving in Helsinki.”

  Kent’s gaze slid away. He didn’t answer.

  Rosie was crisp. “He told us at lunch. We all heard it. Everybody hoped things would go better for Jimmy. But none of us harmed Sophia. I know Jimmy didn’t either.” She looked at him. “She either fell or jumped. Nobody pushed her. Not you. Not us.”

  Jimmy’s face softened. “Thank you, Rosie. But we have to find out about that key. Somebody opened Sophia’s door. Who?”

  Evelyn clapped her hands together. “I know.”

  We all looked at her, waited.

  “Maybe Sophia decided to go out for a while and that’s the key she picked up.” Evelyn’s voice was eager. “The key was right there in the bowl. It saved her from finding her purse, getting out her folder.” Evelyn looked excitedly at Jimmy. “Maybe Sophia went to your cabin to bring you the key. When she didn’t find you, she came back, used that key to get in. It makes all kinds of sense. I’ll tell Mr. Glenn. It just shows they aren’t so smart. No one even suggested Sophia using the key.” Her voice lifted with confidence. “I’ll call him when I get back to my cabin. Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about any of it now. The ship people will make out their report, and we have to see the trip through. But”—her look at Jimmy was kind—“I know you wouldn’t hurt Sophia. It had to be an accident. Accidents happen.” Her tone was stubborn. “I for one am sure it was an accident. In any event, we’ll want to arrange a memorial service for Sophia.”

  Jimmy was touched. “Thank you, Evelyn. I’d appreciate your help.”

  Evelyn’s smile was pleased. “We’ll all work together.”

  I suddenly felt uncertain. Jimmy insisted Sophia wouldn’t fall, must have been pushed. But at this moment I had trouble imagining any of the Riordans as dangerous. Evelyn was the epitome of a frowsy traveler, no more threatening than a water beetle. Val stared blankly at the lift door, withdrawn, self-absorbed, nursing her hangover. Rosie looked as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Kent rocked back on his heels, nodding in agreement. Alex beamed at his aunt. Madge’s face was inscrutable, but she slowly nodded.

  “Sophia could have picked up the key from the bowl.” Jimmy’s weary face wrinkled in thought. “If she didn’t find me, she’d have come back to the cabin, used the key.”

  Evelyn rushed ahead. “The sea was rough. Maybe she went out on the balcony. She could have fallen.”

  I watched Jimmy, saw his face smooth out into unreadable blandness. I knew that look. He didn’t believe Sophia had fallen, would never believe she’d jumped, but he was an old and savvy reporter who was smart enough to listen without tipping his hand. “Maybe,” he said slowly.

  “That has to be what happened. I know Mr. Glenn will agree.” Relief lifted Evelyn’s voice. “Now, Jimmy, you better get some rest. You’ve been up all night. I’ll get busy, send word to some of Sophia’s friends.” Evelyn moved toward the elevator, her nieces and nephews following. “Jimmy, let us know if there is anything we can do.”

  I wandered restlessly about the Clio throughout the afternoon, watched the excursions depart and return. We sailed from Helsinki at six-thirty. I heard nothing from Jimmy. I knew he was dealing with e-mails and phone calls. I hoped he was too busy to feel, too numb from exhaustion to grieve. I ordered soup and a sandwich to my cabin for an early dinner, then stumbled to the bed and fell into a deep but uneasy sleep.

  I woke to unpleasant memories: my last glimpse of Sophia, the long wearing night and longer day with no news, the strangely polite yet devastating inquiry, and Glenn’s bombshell: Jimmy’s key had opened the door to Sophia’s cabin at three minutes after eleven.

  I propped up on my elbow, gazed toward the balcony door, realized it was bright outside. I’d slept for a long time. The key…I wondered if Evelyn had contacted Glenn and if it had possibly already occurred to him that it might have been Sophia who used the key.

  I showered and dressed, walked up to Deck 9 for breakfast. The Clio docked at Turku, Finland, at eight o’clock. After the excursions were done, the Clio departed for Stockholm in midafternoon. I carried my tray to an outside table though it was still cool. I spread cream cheese on a bagel, added a slice of salmon.

  We passed small fir-crowned islands, part of the archipelago. As I ate, I thought about the key. Was it as simple as Evelyn believed? Had Sophia reached for the nearest key? That was plausible.

  If Sophia had not used the key, whose hand held it? How had it been obtained? Would Glenn seek to answer these questions or was the investigation done, the conclusion reached that Jimmy had managed to slip the electronic card free and kept it for his own use?

  Yet surely the missing material that I brought her was proof that someone other than Sophia had been in the cabin. She had no reason to throw away the folder. Jimmy had no reason to destroy the information. Only one of the Riordans had reason to get rid of the letter and dossiers. But, of course, Glenn might not believe the material had ever existed.

  There was another possibility. Sophia opened the door to a visitor, the visitor overpowered her, pushed her overboard, and took Jimmy’s key. Sophia’s murderer then stepped out into the hall, closed the door, and used Jimmy’s key to reopen the door, a deliberate effort to incriminate him. That would explain why the key wasn’t in the ceramic bowl. It had not been used by Sophia to enter the cabin. It had been used to make it look as though Jimmy had kept the key.

  There was one impassable barrier to this solution. If the visitor was not Jimmy, Jimmy for whom Sophia had called, and was instead a member of the Riordan family, Sophia would not have opened the door. She knew she was in danger. She had no doubt about the incident at the Hermitage. She had been pushed, deliberately and hard. Sophia was confident and cool, but she was not reckless. It would have been foolish indeed to open her door late at night to one of the Riordans.

  I
did not believe Sophia opened her door.

  I knew Jimmy didn’t palm the leather folder.

  I doubted Sophia used the key. Why wouldn’t she have dropped it into the bowl upon her return? Wouldn’t that have been natural? Of course, Sophia could have opened the door and slipped the key into the pocket of her linen slacks and the key went with her to her watery death.

  Perhaps, but I had a bone-deep feeling that if we ever discovered who used the key, we would know everything.

  I had a ticket for the excursion into Turku, but I had no intention of going. I wondered if the Riordans were among those disembarking. I hoped Evelyn had encouraged them to take the excursion. Activity helps relieve stress. None of the Riordans, with the possible exception of Evelyn, were fond of Sophia, but her loss was shocking.

  I would have been glad to be free of the Clio for a few hours, but I wanted to satisfy myself that I’d done everything possible to help Jimmy. I didn’t call him, tell him what I planned. I debated calling Glenn, asking him what he’d discovered from the stewardess who serviced Sophia’s cabin. There was no good reason why he should tell me anything. Also, I’m like most old reporters. Don’t take handouts. Find out for yourself.

  When the last party of sightseers departed, I stepped out of my cabin. The ship had a feeling of emptiness. Our stewardess was midway up the hall. I started toward her. Monika was tall and thin, with a gentle face. Her short-sleeved white blouse was topped by a blue half apron that matched her skirt. I heard the sound of vacuuming from one of the cabins.