The Captain’s cocktail party was held in his large, beautifully decorated suite. Soft blues and pale greens on the walls and furnishings were the color scheme. Smiling waiters offered drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Celia had fastened back her dark hair with a gold clip and let it cascade down on her shoulders. Her moss-green gown was shimmering chiffon. The earrings that had been her mother’s were her only jewelry.
She did not realize it, but the eyes of the Captain, as well as most of the other men present, lingered on her as she chatted with other guests. Lady Em arrived shortly after her. She was wearing a simple black gown which set off the breathtaking three-strand emerald necklace that had once adorned Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, and had not been seen in public in one hundred years. Startling in its beauty, each emerald sparkled in unblemished clarity. Lady Em’s white hair was piled softly on her head; her wide hazel eyes and long lashes gave hints of the beauty she had been, and her straight carriage combined to present a regal, commanding image. Her earrings were pear-shaped diamonds, and other than that she wore only her diamond wedding band, to ensure that nothing would distract from the awe-inspiring necklace.
Like Celia, she had decided to put aside her concerns for the evening. She wanted to enjoy the sensation that she knew she was causing. It reminded her of those faraway days when she bowed to the thunderous applause of packed theaters as a prima ballerina.
And although he was always present in her subconscious mind, it so vividly brought back memories of Richard, including when he was waiting at the stage door that wonderful night in London when they first met. Handsome, courtly Richard, who had stepped forward from the crowd of admirers, reached for her hand and kissed it.
And never let it go, she thought wistfully, as she accepted a glass of wine.
Alvirah was wearing the beige gown and matching jacket that Willy liked best. In the late afternoon she had had her hair done at the beauty salon and even allowed herself to be persuaded to have light makeup applied to her face.
As always, Captain Fairfax was an impeccable host. The intense worry he was harboring did not show in his face or manner. He had three concerns: the Man with One Thousand Faces might be in this room right now salivating for Lady Haywood’s emeralds, the sea was already beginning to show a trace of the heavy storm they were sailing into, and the engine problem had already put them behind schedule.
Ted Cavanaugh, the partner in a law firm, was the next guest to come over to him. Fairfax had been made aware of his background. Son of the former ambassador to Egypt and the Court of Saint James, celebrated for seeking to reclaim stolen antiquities. The Captain had a twenty-three-year-old daughter. This is the kind of chap I wish Lisa would bring home, he thought. Good-looking, successful, impeccable family background, instead of that long-haired musician, a harmonica player.
He extended his hand to Ted. “Welcome, Mr. Cavanaugh. I hope you have been enjoying your cruise.”
“Indeed I have been,” Ted replied while returning the Captain’s firm handshake.
His attention was diverted by the arrival of Devon Michaelson, the Interpol agent whose cover was a retired engineer. The Captain moved across the room to greet him but was blocked by Anna DeMille’s swift rush to Michaelson’s side. Instead he turned to the couple on his left. He had been briefed on them. The Meehans had won forty million dollars in the lottery about five years ago, and Mrs. Meehan had gained prominence as a newspaper columnist who also managed to solve crimes.
“Mr. and Mrs. Meehan,” he said with the pleasant smile that always masked his true concerns.
“Alvirah and Willy,” Alvirah said promptly. “Captain, it’s such a privilege to be on the maiden voyage of this beautiful ship. It will always be a wonderful memory for us.”
At that moment the door was pushed open and Yvonne Pearson burst in. “My husband fell overboard!” she shrieked. “My husband fell overboard!”