The fiery red brick Church of Our Savior on the Spilt Blood is one of the most dramatic sites in St. Petersburg. The onion domes dazzled with bright coverings of gilt or glittering glazed tiles. The brightly hued domes gave the cathedral a fairy-tale quality. The church commemorates the murder of Alexander II, but the cathedral’s beauty transcends its bloodstained origin. As I gazed at the crowning dome, dramatic with swirls of white and blue and green topped by a delicate golden spire, a shadow fell in front of me.
Kent Riordan was obviously American, from his backward navy ball cap to his loose blue polo, casual khaki slacks, and worn running shoes. Dark curls poked from beneath the cap. A backpack hung casually from one shoulder. He’d picked up a touch of sun during the excursion, his cheeks faintly pink. “I understand you got a good dose of Sophia last night.”
I shaded my eyes. “I gather you’ve heard all about it.”
“Rosie gave me a blow-by-blow, from our relegation to poverty for the next ten years right through Jimmy tossing his room key into the bowl. High drama. Turn the orphans out into the storm and hand out a scarlet letter. To hell with us and Jimmy, too.”
I looked at him curiously. “Why didn’t you come?”
His face twisted in a dark glower. He could have doubled for a brooding Heathcliff. “Lady, if I’d come, I would have killed her. I’ve e-mailed Heather. I’ve called her. I’ve called her friend Angela. Rosie’s called Heather. So has Val. No luck.” He was suddenly forlorn, his eyes filled with misery. “You said she’d come back to me.”
“She will. It may take time, but it will happen. Rosie and Val are your secret weapons. And Evelyn. They’ll persuade her.”
“You believe that?” He was a man hungry for hope.
I smiled. “I do.”
He unzipped his backpack and delved inside, bringing out a red-lacquered matrioshka doll, her painted features perfect and elegant. “Twenty-four dolls. They fit one inside another and the tiniest one’s just this big.” He pointed to the tip of his little finger. “It’s for Heather. Do you think she’ll like her?”
“Heather will like her.” I believed the world would come right for Kent and Heather.
His brief enthusiasm subsided. He put the doll into the backpack. “I want to give it to Heather and see her smile. If it doesn’t happen, I swear to God I’ll kill her.” He meant Sophia and he meant every word.
Good advice usually falls on deaf ears, but I had to try. “Stay away from Sophia. Be glad you know that Heather loves you. Let time help.”
“Time.” His voice was bitter. “Sophia stole part of our lives.”
“But not forever. Think about it, Kent.” I hoped his heart was listening. “It could have been forever.”
Suddenly he smiled, a sweet, gentle smile. “You found out. You told me. I feel like I’ve been let out of prison. I feel like the sky is blue and I can be happy if Heather will come back to me. You made it possible.”
“I’m glad. I had to tell you when I knew.” That was an absolute. I had no choice, no matter the repercussions. “Truth matters, Kent. Your truth. Mine. Jimmy’s. You know that Sophia’s wrong in accusing him. So was Madge.”
“I know that.” Kent looked disgusted. “But Jimmy’s wrong, too. Nobody’s trying to kill Sophia. She got bumped yesterday because the landing was crowded and somebody moved too fast. As for Evelyn, I love the hell out of her, but she’s a nutcase sometimes. Knocking over the sherry proves that. She didn’t have bad vibes. She obviously thought one of us loosened the boulder and she freaked out when she saw Jimmy with the sherry. That’s totally stupid. Evelyn should know better. Sophia’s done us a lot of dirt, but nobody’s trying to kill her. Not even me, though I don’t make any promises if I don’t get Heather back. But Alex or Madge or Rosie or Val? Alex would have been so nervous he would’ve spilled the whole bottle. Madge likes money, but she’d never do any dirty work on her own. They’re the only ones who really need cash. Rosie doesn’t care about money and Val’s eaten up with her work. That’s all Val ever does. If she lets herself think, she remembers Vic and she can’t function. As for me, all I want is Heather. So I can tell you what’s going to happen to Sophia.”
I looked at him expectantly.
“Nothing.” He punched a fist in the opposite palm. “Nada. Sophia’s going to glare whenever she sees us. That won’t be any too often. I don’t intend to have anything to do with her, now or ever. She’ll sail all the way to London, high and mighty, treated like the queen bee and secure as gold bars in a safe. Maybe that sour-faced ship cop will figure out this doesn’t amount to anything. Anyway, I’m flying home from Helsinki and I’m going to camp on Heather’s doorstep. I’ve already got it set up for a big billboard across from the bar. It’s going to have a gold ring and a wedding cake and it will read: ‘Dear Heather, I love you. I’m going to marry you. Love, Kent.’ That’s neat, isn’t it? I can’t wait to get off this boat. I’ll bet you and Jimmy blow ship in Helsinki, too. Am I right?”
“Jimmy’s checking into reservations.” I’d not turned down Jimmy’s offer, though I wondered if we shouldn’t stick it out for the duration of the trip. But Sophia wasn’t looking to us for help.
“Happy trails.” Kent gave me a thumbs-up. “I’m going to find a phone, try again with Heather. Maybe she’ll take a call from St. Petersburg.”
The message light on the cabin phone was blinking. I tossed my straw hat on the bed, stepped into the bath to splash cool water on my face, then retrieved the message.
“Henrie O.” Jimmy sounded tired but determined. “I’ve booked seats out of Helsinki to London.” There was a long pause. He sighed. “This isn’t a good time to talk about us. I don’t know if there will be a good time. Don’t worry. I won’t ask anything of you until my situation has changed. I won’t even ask you to have dinner with me. The Clio sails at seven tonight. We arrive in Helsinki at seven-thirty in the morning. Meet me for breakfast at seven.”
There was silence, but the line was still open.
Finally, sadly, he said, “I’ve been a fool. Do you know what I’d give to roll back the years, be leaving you the kind of message I used to? I’d give the world. But it doesn’t work that way.”
The connection closed.
I replaced the receiver, felt the sting of tears on my cheeks.
I balanced carefully as I moved around the cabin. We’d sailed at seven. The ship was rolling a bit, nothing extreme, but after two days in port I needed to adjust to the movement. At dinner, I’d managed a pleasant conversation with strangers and excused myself quickly after dessert.
I took a restless walk on the promenade, spent forty-five minutes in the lounge listening to a reprise of the Sinatra years. It was about nine-thirty when I got back to the cabin. I started packing, a listless exercise. Once I paused, frowning, and considered calling Jimmy. I didn’t think we should abandon Sophia, but he’d already made the reservations. Slowly I folded clothes, placed them in my larger suitcase.
I zipped shut a bag to be checked and was getting my carry-on ready when my fingers brushed stiff cardboard. I looked down at the mailer containing the information sent to me by Jimmy. Surely anyone reading this material—especially Jimmy’s letter—would see his obvious concern, his genuine fear. Everything was dated. In fact, I’d kept the letter in its original overnight envelope. Here was proof of everything Jimmy claimed.
Sophia should see this. I should have taken the folder to the meeting in her cabin last night. I looked at the clock. A few minutes before ten.
I put the mailer on the desk and stretched, standing on the balls of my feet, trying to ease the tension in my back, the restlessness in my mind. I stared at the mailer. It might as well have been blinking neon. I reached for the phone, let my hand fall. It’s too easy to hang up on an unwanted caller. I was still dressed, a red and white silk blouse, beige linen slacks, red leather sandals. It would only take a few minutes to go to her cabin.
If I knocked on her door, would she answer?
Twice I kept my balance by catching the railing along the wall of the long hallway. Swells lifted the ship up, eased it down. I didn’t see another passenger all the long way aft. The early-to-bed crowd was already tucked in and the revelers were just getting started.
When I reached the stern, I stood for a moment outside Sophia’s suite. I had a quick conviction I’d come on a fool’s errand, but I’d come this far and I would see it through. If Sophia opened the door, even for a moment, I would hand her the mailer, tell her it contained a letter from Jimmy, a letter she would want to read. She might throw the mailer in my face. I didn’t think so.
I knocked three times, loudly, waited a moment, knocked again.
The door swung in. As always, Sophia was strikingly attractive, her eyes a light bright blue, her makeup understated, her golden ringlets a marvel of hairdressing skill. Delicate embroidery added an elegant accent to a pale blue Irish linen shirt. The embroidery was repeated at the hem of the long matching skirt. Her expression was irritated. “I told you I—oh. It’s you.” She looked at me with distaste. “You have quite a nerve coming here. What do you want?”
I thrust the mailer at her, pushed it into her hand. “Please read Jimmy’s letter. Look at the effort he’s made to keep you safe.”
Her mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. “More of his campaign against Frank’s children? What’s the point? To convince me to trust him?”
“You’d better trust him. There’s a killer around you and it isn’t Jimmy.” I remembered Kent’s anger at the Church of Our Savior on the Spilt Blood. He had been angry with Sophia for a long time, but now his anger was newly rekindled. He insisted none of the Riordans pushed Sophia. He claimed none of them cared about the money. That might be true, but the depths of feeling against Sophia were about more than money. Much more.
“Don’t be fooled, Sophia. One of them—one of the Riordans—wants you dead. Think back. You and Jimmy were happy until they came to your house. Everything was fine.”
She looked down at the mailer, then at me, her gaze searching, testing, wondering. “Does Jimmy know you’ve come to me?”
“No. I was packing and I saw the mailer. If you’ll read the materials in it, you’ll see that everything we’ve told you is true.” She hadn’t slammed the door in my face. Was she going to listen and hear what I was telling her?
“Jimmy doesn’t know you’re here.” Her voice was thoughtful.
I was puzzled. What earthly difference could it make?
Abruptly, she held the door wider. “Come in.” It was the old Sophia, imperious and in charge.
As I came through the door, the ship went up and down again and I reached out to brace against the lintel.
Sophia fetched up against the sofa. She gestured for me to sit opposite her.
I sank into the comfortable easy chair, welcomed the fresh breeze that came through the open sliding door to the balcony.
Sophia pulled the material from the mailer, dropped it on the coffee table. She read Jimmy’s letter slowly, read it again, then scanned the printed sheets, lips pursed, toe tapping. She radiated energy as she flicked swiftly through the pages. No wonder Jimmy found her fascinating. Being in her presence made anyone feel more alive and vital. She tossed the sheets on the table, kept the letter in her lap. She lifted her eyes. Her gaze was sharp, demanding. “You and Jimmy were lovers. I thought he’d brought you here, that he was tired of me.”
“So he tried to kill you? Jimmy? That’s crazy.” My tone was scathing. I was beyond tact. How could she have spent time with him and have so little understanding of his character?
She brushed fingers through her curls. “Jimmy.” She touched the letter, looked at me forlornly. “Sometimes I move too fast. I wasn’t thinking straight. I guess I wasn’t thinking at all. I was in shock after that fall. The last thing I heard was his voice. He was right beside me on the stairs. That’s all I remembered, telling him I was going to the lavatory and hearing him say he’d wait and then I was falling.” Remembered fear made her voice thin. “He was right there and he’d been so insistent that I was in danger.” She touched the mailer. “But he never knew I’d see this.” Her tone was thoughtful, considering. “That’s why he was so honest in the letter. It sounds just like him. I can hear him.” Her eyes gazed into mine. “There’s no point in your coming here if you want Jimmy for yourself. If you wanted to connive at my murder, here you are and here I am and I suppose you could try to kill me if you wished. So you’re innocent. And Jimmy…Do you know”—she took a deep breath—“I’d never even seen him angry until last night when I accused him. So, not you. Not Jimmy. But to think one of Frank’s children…” Her voice trailed off.
I understood her distress. She’d not been a mother to them, not ever, but she’d known them as children, watched them grow to adulthood, uncertain Alex, insouciant Rosie, appealing Kent, disconsolate Val.
I looked into her eyes. “Jimmy told you the truth. I’m telling you the truth. I came on this ship only because he is my old friend and I wanted to help him. I wanted—and want—to help him protect you.”
“Old friend…” Her eyes were a brilliant, piercing blue. “Did he ever ask you to marry him?”
How much reassurance did she need? “Several years before you and he came together. I refused him.” It had not been an easy choice. Now I regretted that choice. Jimmy had it right when he remembered the love he and Margaret shared. With love, it is all or nothing. I would have gone to the ends of the earth for Richard. Whither thou goest… I’d chosen not to go with Jimmy, but I wanted his happiness. I wanted it enough to do my best for his marriage.
She touched the mailer with a shaking hand. “I love him. I’ve never loved anyone as much. I know”—there was sad certainty in her eyes—“that he loved Margaret more than he’ll ever care for me. I’ve never had anyone who loved me the most. Frank’s heart really belonged to Anna. No one’s ever loved me with all their heart.” Sophia’s broken voice spoke truths I knew she’d never revealed to anyone, certainly not to Jimmy.
She clasped her hands tightly together. “Jimmy was kind and caring and generous. I know I wanted more than he could give, but what he gave me was wonderful.” She gave me an open, honest, direct look. “I’ve been a fool. Do you think he’ll forgive me?”
Jimmy was as fair a man as any I’d ever known. At this moment, he was hurt deep inside, angry and bitter. If I’d told him I wanted to talk to Sophia, he would have objected. Now I had to hope he would understand. “I don’t know. Call him. Tell him you’re sorry.”
She held the letter tight, then gently placed it on the coffee table. She rose swiftly, graceful as always, moved to the wet bar, picked up a bottle. “Will you have a drink?” Her voice was steady, but tears filmed her eyes.
I supposed Sophia was prolonging the moment before she dialed Jimmy, a call that would be difficult for her. How do you tell a man you are sorry you accused him of adultery and murder? How do you rebuild shattered trust?
I rose too, moved toward the door. “No thanks.” I paused with my hand on the knob. I’d said all I knew to say. “Good night, Sophia.”
As the door closed behind me, I carried with me the picture of a vulnerable woman splashing whiskey into a glass.
I turned into the starboard corridor and had passed perhaps five or six cabins when I heard a click behind me. I swung around but the corridor was empty. I saw no one, yet I was sure of the sound. A cabin door had closed.
Someone had stood in a doorway, watched me walk forward. All the Riordan cabins were here in a row: Evelyn, Alex and Madge, Kent, Rosie, and Val.
The corridor stretched long and narrow fore and aft. I saw no movement, heard no sound. I felt defenseless.
I whirled and walked fast, listening all the while for pursuit. I scarcely realized how uneasy I’d been until I came to a cross hall and stairwells. If I continued forward I would reach my cabin. Instead I plunged down the steps. I wanted the gaiety of Diogenes Bar.