Decked

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “And they took all my jewelry, the ring big Mario gave me when Mario Junior was born, they took cash and silver ...” She shook her head. “But I still say if Roz hadn’t made us stay . . . The car actually started to turn over and stopped. Mario was going to try it again. But Roz said, ’If it dies on the highway in this rain, you could have an accident.’ She didn’t want us to go back. And I think she saved our lives. Terrible, terrible. Did you know that one out of every four people in the United States will be the victim of a crime in their lifetime?”

  Regan had been about to blurt out the correct statistics, if only to stem the flow of Immaculata’s narrative, but clamped her lips just in time. On this voyage Regan thought it best to avoid talking about her occupation.

  The sommelier was at the table. “Would anyone care for a cordial or a liqueur?”

  With one voice, Kenneth, Dale, Sylvie, Cameron and Gavin said no, almost knocking their chairs over as they jumped up. Veronica agreed to join the Buttacavolas for a créme de menthe.

  Regan wondered how many miles they were from the Hudson River.

  AFTER DINNER CAMERON Hardwick fled onto the deck. He’d had about all he could stand of Mario and Immaculata oohing and aahing over every bite of food or violin selection. He’d also had enough of Lady Exner waving that cigarette holder past his face. The ashes had landed in both his salad and soup before she’d finally put it down and attacked her own dinner.

  He hoped that when the moment came to get rid of her, she’d have that holder and those butts in her pocket and they’d disappear with her.

  The night breeze was strong. A few people were walking arm in arm on the deck, but most women, Cameron noticed, turned back immediately when they felt the chilling draft. Don’t want to get their hair mussed, he thought contemptuously as he paused to fold his arms over the railing and study the dark water with the churning foam slapping the side of the ship. Then from his left he heard a now familiar voice.

  “And Regan, dear, no matter how brisk, on land or at sea, I never miss getting in my daily walk. Inhale that wonderful pungent scent. It bespeaks millenniums of tides, rising and falling. I have always loved that poem, ’I Must Go Down to the Sea Again.’ “

  “Veronica, I like to walk too. But let’s run upstairs and get you a jacket.”

  “Look, look. Here is dear Cameron Hardwick. Regan, if you insist, go get my jacket. I’ll wait with Cameron and we can chat.”

  Hardwick felt a hand on his arm. With all the charm he could muster, he patted her freckled fingers. “What a pleasant surprise.” He wondered if Reilly could read his mind. Even in the dark he could see that she was studying him.

  “I don’t like to leave Lady Exner alone out here,” she told him. “Veronica, I really wish—”

  “She’ll be fine.” Hardwick tried to sound reassuring. “In fact, I think we should keep walking. We’ll go to the bow and then turn around. We’ll stay on this side of the deck.”

  Veronica’s arm was now firmly planted in his. “Such a strong man,” she flirted.

  “You’re flattering me, Lady Exner,” he said in what he hoped was a bantering tone.

  “But it’s true. Dear Gilbert was a rather frail person. A giant intellect but a distressingly troubled body. Run along, Regan,” she ordered imperiously. “I’m well protected by dear Mr. Hardwick.”

  Regan reasoned to herself, he doesn’t seem to mind. I’ll only be gone for five minutes and he’s certainly capable of hanging on to her for that long. And if I don’t get her a jacket, she’ll end up on a respirator in Sickbay. “As long as it’s no trouble ...” she said and ducked back into the lounge.

  “Such a dear girl and such a worrier,” Veronica told him as they began to move toward the bow. “And such an interesting table we have. Dear Mr. Gavin has offered to escort me to the Sit-and-Be-Fit session tomorrow morning. Dear Mr. Cohoon is going to give me some ideas for sprucing up Llewellyn Hall. He offered to stop by on his next London trip, which will be in September. I intend to ask dear Mr. Kenneth’s advice about my hairdo. I’ve been wearing it like this for four years and maybe it’s time for a change. I’m afraid the couple may become a bit tiresome with their anecdotes about their grandchildren, but probably on the return crossing I’ll be a fountain of anecdotes about my nieces. I long to see them and make them part of the family. Philip, my nephew, is a sweet impractical darling, but a woman rather wants a daughter, don’t you think? And while Philip’s fiancee is a wonder—so efficient, so thoughtful—I have the feeling that I get on her nerves. But then, blood is thicker than water, isn’t it?”

  By now they were the only two people on this side of the deck. It was dark. Lady Exner couldn’t weigh more than ninety pounds. In an instant he could punch her into a daze to prevent an outcry, then toss her overboard. When Regan Reilly came back he could claim that Exner had gone in to use the ladies’ room, then get rid of her the same way. Who would suspect him? They’d just met. He’d come alone. Reilly and Exner had come out onto the deck alone . . .

  Should he? ...

  Yes.

  The perfect opportunity didn’t repeat itself. They were at the darkest point of the deck. Cameron drew back his free hand.

  And heard footsteps.

  Across the bow, from the starboard side of the ship, a couple was approaching. He could hear their voices before he saw their silhouettes.

  “Nora, you’re not dressed warmly enough. Let’s go back inside.”

  As they came closer Hardwick saw that it was the same couple he had followed onto the ship this morning. When they saw him and Lady Exner standing at the rail, they turned wordlessly and retreated.

  The moment had passed. It had also taught Cameron that there was no way he could risk trying to get rid of Lady Exner and Regan Reilly on a public deck. He would have to find another solution.

  VERONICA AND REGAN stopped at the small piano bar for a nightcap on their way back to the suite. “I need a little something to chase the chill from my bones, dear Regan, and I think a nip of Scotch would do the trick.” Veronica grabbed seats surrounding the piano and grew misty-eyed as the tuxedo-clad musician played selections from Phantom of the Opera. “Sir Gilbert would have loved that show,” she whispered in Regan’s ear.

  A half hour later, after Veronica had made requests for “I Love You, Truly,” and “Memory,” they returned to their quarters, where the steward had already turned down the beds.

  “The arms of Morpheus should have plenty of room for both of us tonight,” Veronica crowed, “and since I haven’t gotten any other offers, Mr. M will have to do.”

  It was at that moment that Regan knew that Veronica had indeed succeeded in chasing the chill from her body. As Regan undressed and moved in and out of the bathroom, Veronica continued her monologue, undeterred by the sound of the faucet running.

  “And do say a prayer for dear Gilbert. I must admit he was a bit of an agnostic, but he did make an annual contribution to the Church of England and always sent the local minister a Christmas offering.”

  Regan walked up the three steps to the living room area and gratefully got under the sheets in her own bed, wondering how Veronica had managed to learn so much about Sir Gilbert during their two-week marriage.

  Veronica’s prayers for Sir Gilbert must have been right to the point. About thirty seconds after her head hit the pillow, the snores began. As a snore pattern, it was rather unique, Regan found herself thinking. A short bark followed by a watery gurgle that reminded her she was due for a teeth cleaning.

  Regan hunched and twisted and tried to get herself into a comfortable position. These pillows are too thick, she thought as she punched them with her fist. But they’d be perfect for Dad’s clients, she mumbled as she lay back down, yet was still involuntarily propped up. Pulling them out from under her head, she leaned them against her ears, ensconcing herself in a tiny fort in an effort to dull the cacophony emanating from the king-sized bed.

  Usually she could drop off to sleep quickly, but to
night her mind refused to slow down. The first day was over and she totally understood why Philip had insisted that Veronica must not travel alone. If Regan had not been there, Veronica would have plunged from the railing. For the next four and a half days, until she delivered her to her niece, either Regan or someone she could trust would have to stick close to Veronica’s side.

  Oddly, it was not so much the eventful day she had just completed that was on her mind, but scenes from the weekend at Oxford, which kept insisting themselves into her thoughts. The way she and Kit had joked about Athena. Her own belief that ten years ago Athena had chosen not to come back to school. It was as though she could feel Athena’s presence, hear Athena’s rapid, emotion-charged, accented voice. I want to call Livingston, Regan thought, and find out if there’s anything new. But it’s too late to do it tonight.

  Crouched in a fetal position, Veronica slept the night away. For hours, Regan lay awake staring wide-eyed at the terrace, watching the constantly evolving shadows as the ship glided through the Atlantic. She shut her eyes briefly, then opened them again and saw a shadow that resembled a human silhouette framed in the terrace door. She bolted up and felt her pulse leaping as her breath caught in her throat. In a split second the moon moved from behind the clouds and the shadow disappeared. Regan shuddered. She who was almost never nervous had experienced an instant of pure terror. She swallowed quickly. Was that what it was like for Athena in the last minutes of her life? Tears stung her eyes.

  Who could have killed her? The local papers in Greece were undoubtedly having a field day with Athena’s death, especially because it happened only eight months after her aunt’s murder. Two members of a wealthy, prominent family dying violently was the stuff that sold papers. Maybe if I could read a transcript of what is being written in the Greek media, it might remind me of something I’ve overlooked, Regan thought suddenly. She decided that when she called Livingston in the morning she would ask him to get newspaper accounts from Greece translated and faxed to her on the ship. The prospect was comforting. At least it was a start.

  She finally fell into a troubled sleep in which, in her dreams, the creaks and groans of the ship were transformed into the sound of footsteps pursuing her. It was Veronica who awakened her at 8 A.M.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead. Oh, how I wish I could sleep with the abandon of the young. I scarcely closed an eye all night.”

  Regan opened her eyes to find Veronica already dressed in an orange-and-white-striped jumpsuit with a matching headband.

  “Directly after breakfast they have the Sit-and-Be-Fit class. I can’t wait to meet the people.in it. Hurry and get ready. We’ll go down to the Lido Deck for coffee and rolls. I don’t want to waste a minute of this adventure.”

  Regan showered quickly, her half-remembered dreams and churning thoughts about Athena foremost in her mind. She felt as though she were in a long corridor with many doors and didn’t know which one to open. She wished she could talk it through with Jeff. Sometimes using him as a sounding board clarified her own thoughts.

  When she opened the bathroom door, she nearly ran into Veronica, who had been ready to pound on it.

  “Don’t take such long showers, Regan. It’s very drying on your lovely young skin. And now let’s be off. Our public awaits us.”

  TUESDAY, JUNE 23

  GAVIN GRAY DID not enjoy a fulsome night’s sleep. Visions of a diamond-and-emerald bracelet danced in his dreams. When he recovered it, and redeemed it, he would have at least a million dollars. Tax-free. Decently invested, that could mean an income of ninety thousand dollars a year. For that he could rent a château and live like a king on the Costa del Sol in Spain. Far away from the likes of Veronica Exner and old Mrs. Watkins, not to mention the Buttinskys or whatever the heck their name was. He would never have to lay eyes on another Bingo card ever again.

  At 6:30 A.M., as the sun filtered through the fog, Gavin got up, showered, and dressed in a sweat suit. He decided to go to the buffet breakfast by the pool. That way he could be sure to eat quickly. He needed several cups of strong coffee before he could face contorting himself like a monkey with Veronica Exner in the Sit-and-Be-Fit class.

  It was a good decision. He carefully placed coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice and a warm, flaky croissant onto a tray and carried it to a table near the railing. The breeze was cool and the tangy scent of salt blew away the headache that had been threatening to develop. Looking out at the blue-green ocean with the flecks of white foam on the swells, Gavin found himself amazed again at the ship’s aloneness. The vast plain of water that lapped at its sides stretched out for miles undisturbed by any other signs of life. Gavin took a sip of his juice. Hard to believe that right now barges all over were probably dumping tons of garbage into its depths of the ocean.

  Fortified by his second cup of coffee, Gavin checked his watch. It was time to head for the lounge where the Sit-and-Be-Fit class was to be held. His timing was perfect. Regan Reilly and Lady Exner were just entering the lounge from the opposite door. Gavin noticed that Lady Exner looked overwhelmingly bright-eyed, whereas Miss Reilly looked as if she could use a little more sleep. After a hearty good morning he took Lady Exner’s arm possessively and dismissed Regan with a wink, assuring her that all would be well.

  As the instructor clapped his hands and called “Places, everyone,” Regan exited the lounge. When she’d been in the shower she’d made a quick call to Luke and Nora from the bathroom phone and knew they’d be waiting for her in their cabin.

  NORA AND LUKE were enjoying a leisurely breakfast in the sitting room of their suite. There was an extra place set and with a sigh of relief Regan sat down as Nora poured coffee into the waiting cup. Nora was wearing a pink silk robe and Regan thought appreciatively how good she looked without makeup. Luke was already dressed in a navy blue sweat suit which on him somehow looked formal.

  The suite was decorated in tones of ivory and peach. The sun poured through the large portholes and Regan felt herself begin to relax. “I’ve got exactly forty-five minutes before I collect Veronica,” she announced.

  “How’s it going, honey?” Nora asked with an amused expression.

  “This reminds me of going out on a first date and within ten minutes you know you’ve made a big mistake and are in for a long evening.”

  “The problem seems to be that this first date is of five days’ duration,” Luke volunteered.

  “Thanks, Dad. I thought you were in the business of offering comfort.” Regan yawned. “Veronica is a handful. She had a party for us this weekend that really turned into something unexpected. Do you remember my roommate, Athena, from Saint Polycarp’s?”

  “Black fingernails?” Nora murmured. “She eloped or something?”

  “The ‘or something’ is that she was murdered,” Regan said. As they listened, their expressions shocked, she sketched the details of the discovery of Athena’s body. “Superintendent Livingston asked me to try to remember anything Athena might have told me about plans to meet someone. I drew an absolute blank but I’m going to get my journal out of the attic at home and see if that helps and I also have another idea ...” Regan told them about her plan to call Livingston and ask him to fax her newspaper accounts from Greece about Athena’s death.

  “That’s a smart move,” Nora said thoughtfully. “It’s like an investigator picking up the file of an unsolved crime years later and seeing something he missed on the first go-round.”

  Regan placed the ship-to-shore call from their phone. As she waited for the connection to go through, she sat down on the loveseat. “Let me know how much this costs. I just don’t want it on Veronica’s account.”

  Nora and Luke both smiled. “Sure, we’ll bill you,” Luke drawled. “And incidentally, you had two cups of coffee, one orange juice and half a bran muffin.”

  Regan was eyeing the clock nervously when the operator rang back to say she had Superintendent Livingston on the line. Quickly Regan identified herself and explained her proposal regarding the G
reek newspapers.

  “I’ll get them to you directly,” the Inspector told her. “We can have them translated quickly, and possibly there’s an English-language newspaper in the area of the family home. We ourselves have come up with nothing helpful. But there is something else you should know. Miss Atwater had a narrow escape. She will recover, but traces of poison were found in her system.”

  “Penelope was poisoned?” Regan gripped the receiver, not believing what she had just heard. “But how?”

  Livingston’s tone became cautious. “Apparently she made a paste for biscuits to serve at Lady Exner’s cocktail party. From what she tells us she finished the last of the lot in her room Sunday night. The maid found a piece of one of them crumpled in her bedcovers. Rather reminds one of the saying, ’You can eat crackers in my bed anytime.’ Oh dear. When the poison was found in her system we immediately began an investigation and were fortunate in that she’s a bit of an untidy lady, I gather, and therefore the crumbs.”