One of the few people who did not attend the ceremony was Bosley P. Brevers, who was upset because his lecture had seemed to have been a failure. The very people he was hoping to impress, the famous suspense writer and her husband, their daughter, the private investigator, and her husband, the big shot with the NYPD, had walked out in a block. He knew they were trying to be discreet, but the sight of the backs of their heads was very disconcerting. Those two women from his group, Maggie and Ivy, clearly couldn’t stand him getting any attention. They had walked out first.
It was so mean of them.
He’d retreated to his cabin, where he’d ordered a sandwich from room service, then gone over his notes to see how he might make part two of his lecture more interesting. He had just put his pen down when he heard a helicopter approaching the ship. Stepping out onto his balcony to catch a glimpse, he quickly became disinterested and went back inside his room to turn on the television. He wanted to see if there was any news on the search for Left Hook Louie’s nephew, Tony Pinto. If the police caught him, that would bring some fresh excitement to the lecture scheduled for tomorrow morning. As Brevers flipped the channels, he could hear the faint sounds of “Amazing Grace.” Obviously the Commodore’s ceremony had begun.
A clip of a pretty young newscaster appeared on the screen. “Update!” she said excitedly. “I’ve been reporting to you about the Santa Cruise on the Royal Mermaid, which used to belong to the late Angus ‘Mac’ MacDuffie. It’s been verified that years ago MacDuffie’s father bought a priceless antique knowing it had been stolen from a Boston museum. A hammered silver jewelry box, it had once belonged to Cleopatra and is worth untold millions. That’s right folks. Cleopatra! This morning, I visited the people who had purchased furniture and papers from the estate sale after Angus MacDuffie died. In a kneehole desk, they discovered a journal, which revealed that MacDuffie knew about the antique. Today, we painstakingly went through hundreds of dusty magazine pages and letters, and we found a note MacDuffie had written to his mother saying that he had hidden the stolen silver box in a secret drawer he had built in the suite of his yacht so that evidence of his father’s disgrace would die with him. Maybe Commodore Weed will start a treasure hunt . . .”
A replica of the box flashed on-screen.
Brevers’s eyes bulged. He had been one of the first to arrive on the ship yesterday and had gone to the Commodore’s suite to drop off a signed book. The Commodore had invited him into the living room and they had chatted briefly. Brevers had noticed an exquisite, small silver chest in a glass case against the wall and had commented on it. The Commodore had told him it contained his mother’s ashes.
Could it be? Brevers wondered, his mind racing. He had heard this morning that the Commodore would be throwing his mother’s ashes overboard in a box. Could it be the priceless object that he had just seen? The Commodore’s silver box certainly looked like the one they were showing on television.
Not caring that he’d taken off his shoes, Brevers ran out the door and down the deserted corridor in what he believed was a race to save Cleopatra’s jewelry box from disappearing to the bottom of the sea.