by Carolyn Hart
He stared down at his desk, his face uncertain.
I spoke in a quiet tone, soft as the whisper of wings. “Ingrid was very young.”
He lifted a hand, massaged tight muscles in the back of his neck. “The captain has reposed in me the authority to investigate as I feel necessary. I will summon the members of Mrs. Lennox’s family to her suite at twenty-one hundred to offer them information on the conclusion of our investigation.”
31
I arrived at Sophia’s cabin at a quarter to nine. Glenn held the door for me. I stepped inside, saw the two security officers in their crisp uniforms standing near the wet bar, the thin young woman and massive red-haired man.
Jimmy sat in an easy chair a few feet from them. He looked toward me with so much sadness my heart ached. His face was pale and gaunt, his eyes hopeless. He looked exhausted and defeated, deep lines in his face, slumped shoulders, lax hands. He said nothing.
I wished I could run to him, hold him in my arms, tell him he was going to be safe. I knew he wasn’t absorbed in his own peril. He grappled with despair because of Ingrid, unable to forgive himself for drawing her into danger.
He looked away, sinking into remote misery.
Glenn’s face was somber as he handed me a folder. “As you requested.”
I tucked the folder under one arm, steeled myself to focus on the task ahead. There would—I hoped, I prayed—be time for Jimmy, time to help him heal, time to help him accept the truth that Ingrid could have told him what she had seen but had not done so. There would be time if I prevailed tonight.
I looked slowly and carefully around the luxurious room, impersonal now with no trace of previous occupancy. Since Jimmy and I had packed away Sophia’s clothes, the luggage had been removed, the balcony doors closed, the drapes closed. I checked the sofa. Yes, it faced toward the balcony with the door to the bedroom slightly behind and to the right.
I moved quickly aft, punched the button that opened the curtains to the balcony, then stepped to the sliding doors, pushed them open. Cool, misty air surged inside, and the muted hum of the ship, the distant susurrus of swirling water.
Glenn watched in silence as I walked past him, twisted the knob on the bedroom door, stepped inside, leaving it open behind me. I was opening the drapes to the balcony when he came close. “Why open the doors to the balconies?”
“I want everything as it was Friday night.” I gestured toward the balcony and the silken drapes fluttering from the breeze. “You found the doors open that evening, didn’t you?” I was certain the sliding doors to the bedroom balcony had been pushed wide. They had to have been open.
“Yes. All the balcony doors were open.”
I led the way back into the living room, closing the bedroom door behind us. Everything was in readiness. I moved to stand near Jimmy.
A knock sounded. I felt tightness in my chest, clutched the folder with sweaty hands.
Glenn opened the door to Alex and Madge. Madge wore a strapless silver georgette gown. Her hair was piled high with an amber comb to one side. One of the amber necklaces she’d admired this morning glowed against her pale skin. Alex pulled at his stiff collar as they moved toward the center of the room. Unlike his sport clothes, his tuxedo fit him perfectly. The difference between a fine tailor and buying off the rack. Madge looked without interest at me and Jimmy, flounced to the other easy chair. “We had to leave the party—”
There was a champagne farewell dance in the lounge tonight.
“—and they’re going to play salsa next so I hope this doesn’t take too long.”
Glenn gave her a level stare. “I assumed the family would find the report to be of interest.”
Alex rushed into speech. “Sure thing. Glad to come. Hope everything’s worked out.” He looked uncomfortable. “I mean, maybe Sophia got dizzy. That’s what I think.”
Madge covered her bright red lips and giggled. “Can you imagine Sophia dizzy?”
Alex clamped a hand on her shoulder and I wondered how many glasses of champagne she had already drunk.
A hesitant knock sounded. Glenn opened the door to Rosie, Val, and Kent. Rosie had lost her bloom of the morning. Her lovely face shadowed by worry, she walked with a gentle hand on Val’s arm, guiding her, promising support. Val’s delicate face looked worn. She moved as if every step cost effort.
Kent followed his sisters, once again unshaven, navy polo wrinkled, khaki shorts sagging, espadrilles slapping against the parquet floor. He looked around the living area, his face twisted in a frown. I wondered if he was remembering Sophia, remembering her, hating her still for her interference in his life.
Evelyn came up behind them. She looked as if she’d thrown on whatever came to hand: a fuchsia cotton blouse, green capris, white sandals. Her faded red hair was untidy, too, and she hadn’t bothered with makeup. The events of the last few days had left their mark, her face pale, dark patches under her eyes, but she burst into speech. “I’m sorry if I’m late. I was packing and lost track of the time. Oh, everybody’s here. Good evening, Mr. Glenn. You’re very nice to keep us informed.” She nodded toward Jimmy and me. “I suppose you want us to sit down. Girls, why don’t you take the sofa. I’m hot as can be. That breeze feels good.” She bustled to the table near the open balcony doors. She chose a straight chair and turned it to face the center of the room.
Glenn waited until everyone was seated. He stood with his back to the corridor door, arms folded, legs apart. “Ladies and gentlemen, tomorrow when we reach London I will present to the authorities the result of our inquiry into the circumstances surrounding the loss of Mrs. Sophia Lennox. As you know from our meeting with the captain, Mrs. Collins said good night to Mrs. Lennox at twenty-two fifteen. Until today, that was the last admitted sighting of Mrs. Lennox. However, Mrs. Collins has obtained information from a crew member—”
I was watching our quarry. There was the faintest tightening of lines from nose to mouth, the almost imperceptible flare of guarded eyes.
“—indicating one of you was observed coming out of Mrs. Lennox’s suite shortly after twenty-three hundred.”
The murderer sat stone still, alert and wary.
“One of us?” Rosie looked at Glenn sharply. “But that was the time”—she looked toward Jimmy—“when Jimmy’s key was used to go into the suite. At least, I think that’s what you said Saturday.” She brushed back a glossy red curl.
“Perhaps it will be clearer if Mrs. Collins explains.” Glenn nodded at me gravely.
I stepped forward. “A laminated security information card rests on top of the safe in the closet of each cabin.” The Riordans gazed at me in bewilderment, all except one of them. “It contains suggestions and facts, including the information that whenever an electronic key card is inserted into a cabin lock, the provenance of that card registers. In other words, when Jimmy’s key was used to open Sophia’s door at eleven-oh-three Friday night, that fact registered. The murderer’s intent—”
Madge’s voice was shrill. “Who’s talking about murder? Sophia fell. Or jumped.”
“Sophia was murdered.” I looked at each Riordan in turn. “Sophia was strangled with a towel—”
My quarry’s face was still and brooding. How did I know? How could I possibly know?
“—after she called Jimmy’s cabin and left a message and before the door was opened at eleven. By then, Sophia had been thrown overboard. When the murderer stepped into the corridor, she was seen by Ingrid Shriver.”
Kent frowned. “Who’s that?”
“The stewardess who serviced your cabins.” I pointed at each Riordan in turn.
Kent was abruptly irritated. “So why don’t you stop this charade? Sure, I remember her. Cute girl. Bring her out. Have her point at the guilty party.”
“I would have her here if she could come. Someone else saw the murderer, too. She can tell us.” I walked slowly toward the sofa, looked down. “It’s time, Val, time to tell us who you saw.”
Rosie came to her feet
. “Leave her alone. She’s sick and frightened.”
“She’s sick and frightened because she knows who committed murder.” My voice was hard and cold, pressing, demanding. “She has to tell us or Jimmy Lennox will go to jail. Val, who did you see?”
It was painful to see the stark despair on Val’s face. Tears welled, spilled, streaked her cheeks.
Everyone watched, frozen.
In my peripheral vision, I glimpsed movement, quick and quiet.
Rosie was a flash of fury. “Leave her alone. She doesn’t remember.”
“She remembers.” I stared into Val’s desperate eyes.
“I can’t.” Val was sobbing. “Sophia must have fallen. That’s what happened. She wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
The pronoun did not refer to Sophia, who had, willfully or not, hurt so many over time, not out of malice, not even selfishly, but perhaps most galling of all, through mistaken certainty that she knew best for all concerned.
“She hurt Sophia. Val, tell us.”
Val awkwardly came to her feet. She trembled. “Get that girl, the stewardess. Let her be the one who says.”
“Ingrid can’t be here. Do you want to know why? Ingrid went to the murderer, told her she’d seen her. Let me show you what the murderer did. You can see for yourself.” I opened the folder, fanned out the glossy color photographs of Ingrid, face purple and distorted, tongue protruding, neck caught in a tight twist of towel.
Val lifted her hands as if to ward off the sight and then slowly, in an agony of comprehension, turned to look at Evelyn.
Evelyn no longer sat at the table. She stood framed in the open doorway to the balcony, lightly balancing against the motion of the ship.
I pointed at Evelyn. “You read about the electronic keys on the security card—”
Evelyn’s face was a frozen mask.
“—and that helpful fact made it possible for you to commit murder at a time when you could point to the electronic record to prove you were in your cabin. I should have known right from the first. When I knocked on Sophia’s door, she said, ‘I told you—’ and then broke off. To whom had she spoken? She knew her life was threatened. She suspected Jimmy and the Riordan children. But not you because you had knocked down the tray with the glass of sherry and gone on to empty the bottle and wash it. You knew the sherry was poisoned—you had poisoned it—but you realized that Jimmy suspected the falling boulder wasn’t an accident and Sophia’s death from an overdose wouldn’t pass as an accident. Then came the attack at the Hermitage. Perhaps that was spur-of-the-moment. You took a chance. It failed.”
Evelyn’s eyes, eyes filled with despair, never left my face.
“Friday night you tried one more time to persuade Sophia not to close down the income from the trusts. She refused. It wasn’t only the money, of course. How long had you hated her?”
Evelyn brushed back a straggle of faded red hair. “When she came into our lives, everything was ruined. The children needed their home and she sent them away and later she insisted Vic go back to the school. I should have killed her then, pushed her over the cliff where Vic jumped. But I never thought about killing her until she summoned the children to see about the trusts.” Hot anger glowed in her eyes. “Sophia told me she was going to see how they were doing with their lives, try to decide what would be best for them. She didn’t ask me!” Evelyn’s hands clenched. “I know them better than anyone in the world. I love them. But she didn’t ask me.” Years of anger made her voice hard. “I tried to talk to her but she wouldn’t listen. I gave her one last chance, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“You were determined to kill her while Jimmy could be a suspect. You think fast, Evelyn. You knew that if you left and reentered your cabin, there would be a record. But there was another way to get to Sophia’s suite. Your cabin’s balcony and the side balcony of the suite are joined. You knew Sophia kept open the doors to the balcony, both from the living area and from the bedroom. You are strong and athletic. You climbed over the railing and edged your way to the suite balcony. You stepped over and slipped into the bedroom. You took a towel from the bath and crept up behind Sophia on the sofa and strangled her.”
Glenn moved from the doorway. “Miss Riordan, I am taking you—”
Evelyn whirled and ran out onto the balcony. She reached the railing, climbed to the top.
Glenn was moving, shouting.
Evelyn balanced for an instant, then plummeted out of sight, lost in darkness.
32
I print out e-mails that matter to me. As I waited for the phone to ring, I looked over the messages I’d received from Jimmy.
September 5—I was touched that all of them came to Sophia’s memorial. I wasn’t sure they would. The service was on the headland at sunset. She would have been pleased that so many old friends came. Kent brought Heather. As soon as they got home, Rosie and Val went to see her, told her she was the sister they’d dreamed of having. I liked her and she’s right for Kent. They have a dozen ideas for the wedding. Val wants it to be outdoors, says the day will sparkle. Kent’s got a job. Heather’s helping plan a memorial for Evelyn. I wasn’t sure they’d want me there, but they do. Rosie told me they know none of it was my fault or yours.
September 22—You’ll be glad to know Val’s in treatment. Rosie’s taken charge for the family. She asked if I would oversee clearing out the house, putting it up for sale. None of them want it. They’ve taken the keepsakes that matter to them. Rosie chose for Val. I said I would take care of everything. I’m staying in town. I don’t want to be there either.
October 14—I’ve almost finished clearing out the house. I’m not sure what I’m going to do next. I’d like to talk to you. I’ll call in the morning at nine. Will you be there?
I pushed up from my kitchen chair, walked toward the counter. It was two minutes before nine. When the phone rang, I reached out for the receiver. “Hello.”
“Bueno.”
I laughed aloud at the old, familiar salutation from our long-ago years in Mexico City, Richard and I, Jimmy and Margaret. It brought back good days and good times and later years when Jimmy and I had laughed and loved. “Bueno.”
Words tumbled, his and mine: the tribute to Sophia, the progress with the house, the Riordan siblings. “Val’s doing really well. Rosie goes to see her every day. And Rosie’s talking about a wedding too, she and Harry from the cruise. Alex”—Jimmy’s tone was dry—“is wheeling and dealing. It will be interesting to see how fast he can lose a fortune. Of course, Madge may spend it all on Rodeo Drive first. Kent’s coaching Heather’s little brother and has asked him to be best man. That’s one reason I called; Kent told me he and Heather want you to come to the wedding, that it would never have happened except for you.”
“They want me?” I’d thought that seeing me again would be the last thing any of the Riordans would ever want. If it weren’t for me, Evelyn would be alive. Troubled and burdened, but alive.
“They want you.” He took a deep breath. “I want you. Will you come?”
I blinked away tears. “Yes.” One simple word and with it I offered my heart.
About the Author
An accomplished master of mystery, CAROLYN HART is the author of six previous Henrie O novels. She is also the creator of the highly praised Death on Demand series. One of the founders of Sisters in Crime, she lives in Oklahoma City.
www.carolynhart.com
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Also by Carolyn Hart
Henrie O
Dead Man’s Island
Scandal in Fair Haven
Death in Lovers’ Lane
Death in Paradise
Death on the River Walk
Resort to Murder
Death on Demand
Death on Demand
Design for Murder
Something Wicked
Honeymoon with Murder
A Little Class on Murder
Deadly Valentine
The Christie Caper
Southern Ghost
Mint Julep Murder
Yankee Doodle Dead
White Elephant Dead
Sugarplum Dead
April Fool Dead
Engaged to Die
Murder Walks the Plank
Death of the Party
Dead Days of Summer
Credits
Jacket design by Barbara Levine
Jacket photograph by Jack Louth/Getty Images
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SET SAIL FOR MURDER. Copyright © 2007 by Carolyn Hart. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © MARCH 2007 ISBN: 9780061844829
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