I found a pair of binoculars in the cabinet of the bedside stand and carried them with me through the silent corridors. I took the lift to Deck 10. The pool was empty and looked uninviting in the dim beginnings of dawn. Every step up the white metal stairs to the sundeck was an effort, weary muscles protesting. Three hours of sleep was woefully inadequate, but I was determined to be on the sundeck at daybreak. I shivered in the early morning chill, the breeze tugging at my windbreaker and my cotton knit slacks.
The Clio might have been a ghost ship, shadows slowly melting as rosy streaks threaded the eastern sky. She rode quietly at anchor and I knew we were near the point in her route where I’d said good night to Sophia.
Jimmy was there, slumped in sleep on a deck chair, head pillowed on one arm. I let him sleep, walked to the railing. Silver, rose, and gold spilled over the horizon. The sea was calm with only a trace of whitecaps. The dark water was lovely, immense, forbidding. I lifted the binoculars, scanned the surface.
As the ship came to life, other passengers ranged along the railing here and on the pool deck below, many of them also equipped with their binoculars. A helicopter hovered near the ship, the sound of its rotors loud in the early morning quiet.
Rubbing his eyes, a haggard, unshaven Jimmy joined me, reached for the binoculars. Other ships came into view. A small gray cruiser with a Russian flag and Cyrillic lettering on her bow curved around the Clio and began a slow progress toward Finland. When the light was bright, the sea sparkling, the Clio too began to move, retracing our journey westward. Crew members stood at the bow, well-trained eyes scanning the sea. Other cruise ships, perhaps ten miles to our port and starboard, kept pace.
Everything was being done that could be done.
I wrapped cold fingers around a coffee mug, welcoming the warmth. The coffee was not strong enough for my taste, but it was coffee. The informal dining room was almost full. It might have been my mood, but it seemed to me that the customary decorous good cheer was absent, that passengers too often glanced seaward, their faces concerned, uneasy, wondering. Imagining.
I took a last bite of a ham and cheese omelet. I had two sweet rolls on a paper plate and a Styrofoam cup of coffee to take up to Jimmy. I’d chosen raspberry, his favorite, knowing he would never notice, exhaustion obliterating taste. I glanced at my watch. A few minutes past nine. The Clio had been under way for almost three hours. When we reached the point where the graceful vessel had curved in a half circle to retrace her route, the search would be done.
The PA system crackled. “Staff Captain Glenn speaking. Passengers James Lennox, Henrietta Collins, Evelyn Riordan, Alexander and Margaret Riordan, Kent Riordan, Rosemary Riordan, and Valerie Riordan are requested to report to the Captain’s Conference Room forward on Deck 8. The Clio has resumed passage to Helsinki. As passengers are aware, a search has been under way for a missing passenger. Anyone with knowledge of the whereabouts of Sophia Lennox after twenty-two hundred last night is asked to report to the ship security office on Deck 4. The Clio’s search will conclude at ten hundred hours. Search and rescue helicopters will continue to fly over the area during daylight hours. The Clio berths in Helsinki at approximately twelve hundred hours, four and one half hours later than scheduled. Passengers holding tickets for morning shore excursions will find excursions available this afternoon. The Clio departs Helsinki for Turku at nineteen hundred hours. Thank you.”
Carrying coffee and sweet rolls, I walked forward, took the lift on the forward side of the pool, punched 8. I stepped out and looked about with interest. This was my first visit to Deck 8. More expensive cabins ran from this point to the stern. Staff Captain Glenn waited in front of a single door in a smooth wall decorated with maps. He was clean-shaven, his white uniform crisp, but his face was puffy with dark circles beneath his eyes. Beyond that unmarked door would be the heart of the Clio: the captain’s office, the bridge, and the radio, computer, and radar equipment that kept the ship in motion.
I was the third of the summoned passengers to arrive. Evelyn and Val perched on the edge of a dark blue settee. Evelyn looked even less collected than usual, frizzy hair sprigging in all directions, blue eyes darting nervously around the foyer. Her oversize mauve blouse was an odd choice with a striped orange and green skirt. Val slumped gracelessly beside her. Val’s eyes were bloodshot in a swollen face. She’d pulled on the white top and navy linen slacks she’d worn yesterday. She kept her hands clamped tightly together. I wondered if they were trembling.
Glenn greeted me. “Good morning, Mrs. Collins. We’ll wait here until everyone arrives.”
Jimmy came next, still in his sweatshirt and jeans, a sandy bristle covering his cheeks. He walked up to Glenn. “No trace.” It was a grim statement, not a question.
“No trace.” There might have been a glint of sympathy in Glenn’s dark eyes.
Jimmy turned away, faced the wall, his shoulders slumped. He looked old and defeated, drained of energy.
I came up beside him. “I’ve brought you breakfast.”
He tried to smile, failed. “Thank you, Henrie O.” His voice was dull.
I handed him the cup. He took off the lid, drank, accepted a sweet roll, ate mechanically.
Rosie stepped out of the lift. As always, every eye turned toward her, and as always, she was striking, wind-stirred Titian hair in a cloud of curls, finely chiseled features exquisitely lovely, strawberry blouse a perfect match to tropical floral print slacks. Rosie’s gaze swept us. She walked straight to Jimmy.
Rosie reached out, gently touched Jimmy’s arm. “This is horrible. I can’t imagine what happened to Sophia. I know you may find it hard to believe, but I wish like anything she was here now. Sometimes I hated her, but she made Dad happy. I wish things had been different.”
“Made Dad happy?” Val struggled up from the settee. “She killed—”
Evelyn cried out, her voice loud, cutting off Val. “None of that has anything to do with what’s happened here!” She clamped an arm tight around Val’s shaking shoulders.
Rosie swung toward her sister. “Let it go, baby.”
Glenn watched, his gaze sharp.
The lift door opened. Madge strolled toward us, her expression carefully relaxed but her eyes darting nervously around the hallway. Alex’s red hair stood on end as if he’d just awakened. His frown was querulous. He had yet to shave and orange bristle covered his cheeks. Kent ambled behind them. His dark curls were damp as if he’d splashed water on them, pulled a comb through. He too was unshaven, his T-shirt and shorts wrinkled, espadrilles slapping as he walked.
As the lift door closed, there was a moment of awkward silence. I looked from face to face. Jimmy was sunk in a dark reverie, his eyes blank, absorbed in thoughts too grim to share. Evelyn picked nervously at her knitted purse, her expression worried and uncertain. Val pressed trembling fingers against her mouth. Rosie watched her sister. Madge held tight to Alex’s arm. Kent slouched against the wall, frowning.
Glenn’s face was somber. “I regret to inform you that Mrs. Lennox is believed to be lost overboard. It is Captain Wilson’s duty to investigate the circumstances and prepare a report for the authorities. We will appreciate your cooperation in our inquiry.”
Evelyn clutched at her throat. “All of us can tell you, Sophia wasn’t herself, not at all. I hate to think about it, Sophia so upset and all alone. If only I’d gone to be with her, but I had no idea she might harm herself.”
Jimmy’s head snapped up. “Not suicide. Not Sophia.”
Glenn didn’t change expression. His voice was smooth. “The investigation will consider all possibilities. The captain is expecting us.”
Rosie reached out, took Val’s elbow.
Evelyn bustled to her feet. “All of us will do everything we can to help.”
Glenn turned to the door, rapidly drummed numbers on the electronic keypad. He held the door for us. We filed into a wide hallway, passed a half dozen closed doors. The hallway ended at another door. It stood open.
We stepped into a huge room that ran the width of the bow. Broad windows on either side offered a magnificent view of the sea. A massive wooden desk sat near the starboard windows. Computer screens glowed. Captain Wilson waited in the center of the room next to a long mahogany conference table with leather swivel chairs. A few feet from the table, a seaman checked settings on a video camera mounted on a tripod.
The captain stood with his hands behind him, feet apart, in a dark-billed white cap, short-sleeved white shirt topped with a captain’s shoulder boards, white trousers, white shoes. He looked even more imposing than at the opening reception, radiating authority, the ship’s master. His blue eyes scanned us with deliberation.
Glenn introduced us, beginning with Jimmy.
Captain Wilson looked directly at Jimmy. “Mr. Lennox, may I offer you my deepest sympathy.” The quiet pronouncement made it clear that Sophia was dead.
“Thank you.” Jimmy pressed his lips together.
Captain Wilson was grave. “I know it is difficult for you to be here this morning. I appreciate your willingness to help us. I also appreciate the cooperation of Mrs. Lennox’s family. It is necessary for us to gather as much information as possible to provide to shore authorities when we dock in London. The Clio is registered as a British ship and we operate under maritime law and British law. A video camera will provide a record of this inquiry. Please be seated.”
We took our places, the captain at the head of the table in a heavy brown leather chair with arms, Staff Captain Glenn at the foot of the table. Jimmy and I were on one side with Alex and Madge. Evelyn, Val, Rosie, and Kent sat opposite us.
I wondered if the captain had any inkling of the irony in his description of the Riordans as Sophia’s family.
Captain Wilson opened a green folder, glanced down at it. A legal pad and a pen lay to one side. “Mrs. Lennox was seen last night by Mrs. Collins at approximately twenty-two fifteen. No one has admitted seeing Mrs. Lennox after that time. Mrs. Collins called Mrs. Lennox’s cabin at twenty-three thirty-nine. There was no answer. Subsequent investigation by Staff Captain Glenn at twenty-three forty-seven proved the cabin to be empty. An exhaustive search of the ship makes it clear she is no longer aboard. Accordingly, it is reasonable to conclude that Mrs. Lennox was lost overboard between twenty-two fifteen and twenty-three forty-seven.”
The silence was broken by a choked sob from Evelyn.
The captain nodded toward her. “I understand this is a painful moment for the family. However, we must do our best to determine the circumstances of her disappearance. As the first step in our inquiry, we must seek to discover Mrs. Lennox’s state of mind in order to determine whether her death was the result of accident, suicide, or murder.”
Jimmy’s face creased in a tight frown. “Sophia was well and strong. There was no reason for her to fall overboard accidentally. Suicide is out of the question. Sophia was a fighter. A survivor. Sophia was murdered.” His voice was scratchy with fatigue but dogged with conviction. “The murderer is in this room.” He stared at each Riordan in turn. “One of them.”
Evelyn clutched at her throat. “Jimmy, you’ve been wrong from the start.” She twisted toward the captain. “Jimmy didn’t mean to cause trouble, but he did. He convinced Sophia that someone pushed her at the Hermitage, and I know that was an accident. The landing was packed with people shoving and gouging. It’s a wonder more of us didn’t fall. Then Sophia got all suspicious about Jimmy and his friend”—her glance toward me was apologetic—“and that shows she wasn’t herself. Why, Jimmy wouldn’t be involved with another woman and flaunt her right in front of Sophia. But Sophia was upset. You ask anyone here. That’s what they’ll tell you. She was distraught. I think she was all alone and she kept thinking about everything and knew she’d ruined her marriage, sending Jimmy away, and she decided to die.”
Jimmy slammed his fist on the table. “Never.”
Val stared down at the table, teeth tight against her bottom lip.
Rosie’s face was shuttered, but she watched her younger sister.
Kent rubbed at his forehead. “I need coffee.”
Madge burst out, “Evelyn’s right. Sophia hasn’t been herself, not since this trip started.”
Alex hurriedly agreed, “That’s what happened. She jumped.”
Captain Wilson was polite but firm. “Everyone will have ample opportunity to contribute. Miss Riordan, when did you last see Mrs. Lennox?”
Evelyn looked sad. “Thursday evening. She had all of us to her cabin. She was not herself, making serious financial decisions in front of everyone and that certainly wasn’t like her. She insisted one of us pushed her down those stairs at the Hermitage, and she seemed to think it was Jimmy. That was absurd. The museum was crowded and she started down the steps and she fell. Anyway, none of us pushed her. No one was close enough.”
Captain Wilson’s tone was polite. “Despite the incidents of the dislodged boulder and the spilled sherry before the journey began, you didn’t believe Mrs. Lennox when she said she was pushed?”
The realization was instantaneous among everyone present that Captain Wilson was aware of Frank Riordan’s will, his children’s relationship with Sophia, the circumstances of her fall at the Hermitage, her decree that the trusts would not be dissolved, and, of course, her inclusion of Jimmy and me as suspects in her fall.
In the stillness that followed his revealing question, the atmosphere changed from one of cooperation to wary attention. I felt that one listener was shaken by fear, but I saw no trace of fear in the faces I quickly scanned. Evelyn looked befuddled and uncomfortable. Val pressed fingers to one temple, her eyes bleary with pain. Rosie frowned, her glance sliding toward her sister, then away. Kent straightened in his chair, his expression concerned. Alex chewed on his lower lip, the picture of uncertainty. Madge’s glare was outraged.
One of the Riordans had a clever mask firmly in place.
Evelyn clutched her silver necklace. “Jimmy upset me with his claims about the boulder. I’ll admit I was scared about the sherry, but I know that was silly. I’ll never believe anything that has happened was deliberate. Never.” She was as convinced of her truth as Jimmy was of his.
Jimmy looked at her sadly. “Evelyn, can’t you see?” He gestured at the Riordan heirs. “They inherit millions. More than that, they’ve been angry for years. They hated the way their father deferred to Sophia, banished them to boarding schools. Val blamed Sophia for her sister’s suicide. And Kent”—Jimmy looked grim—“just found out Sophia caused the breakup with his fiancée.”
“Back off, Lennox.” Kent bunched his hands into fists. “Leave my sister out of this.”
“He’s trying to blame us. That’s all he’s done ever since the trip began.” Madge’s voice was high and shrill. “He’s the one Sophia was afraid of.”
Captain Wilson was impassive. “Staff Captain Glenn has reported to me the events of Thursday evening. For the record now”—he nodded toward Evelyn—“you state that you last saw Mrs. Lennox Thursday evening?”
“Yes. Thursday evening.” Evelyn’s lips quivered. “Poor Sophia.”
The captain made a note on his pad. “Where were you from twenty-two to twenty-four hundred last night?”
Evelyn looked unutterably tired. “In my cabin. I read until eleven, then I went to bed.”
The captain looked at Val. “Miss Riordan, when did you last see your stepmother?”
“Don’t call her my stepmother.” Val’s face was hard. “She was married to my father. My father’s dead.”
The captain’s blue eyes studied her dispassionately. “When did you last see Mrs. Lennox?”
Val slumped in her chair, her sudden energy fading. She brushed back a tendril of hair that had escaped her sleek bun. “I guess it was Thursday night.” She looked uneasy and confused.
“Guess?” Captain Wilson frowned. “You must know when you saw her.”
Evelyn patted Val’s arm. “She’s been having trouble with seasickness. Val isn’t a good sailor.”
“Miss Riordan can make her own replies, please.” His eyes never left Val’s troubled face.
“Thursday night.” Val’s voice held no conviction.
“Where were you last night?” He watched her closely.
“In my cabin. I didn’t feel good.” Val’s eyes were huge and uncertain. I doubted she had any memory of Friday evening. She’d drunk herself into oblivion.
“Did you leave your cabin during the period in question?”
I didn’t give her time to reply. Her uncertainty was evident, and I wanted to save her from embarrassment. “Val and I were in Diogenes Bar. I went there after I’d talked to Sophia. Val joined me. I suppose it was ten or fifteen minutes after eleven. I walked with her to her cabin, left her there about eleven-thirty, went on to my cabin.”
Val stared at me with haunted eyes.
Wilson persisted. “Where were you before you joined Mrs. Collins?”
Val looked down at the table. “In my cabin.”
“Very well.” The captain made notes, looked up. “Miss Rosemary Riordan?”
Rosie was brisk, almost casual. “Thursday night was the last time I saw Sophia.” She gave an engaging smile. “As you might imagine, Captain, none of us had any reason to spend time with Sophia after that. She made it clear she didn’t want to have anything to do with us for about ten years. That suited us fine. We all felt the same.” She gestured toward her sister and brothers. “It was a relief to have the show-and-tell exercise over. We didn’t come up to Sophia’s expectations. So be it. We certainly didn’t care enough to plot murder, and that’s what we’re talking about. I’m with Evelyn. Either Sophia jumped or somehow she fell. Anyway, I saw her Thursday night and didn’t have a glimpse Friday night. I was here and there after dinner. I listened to the music in the main lounge. Bossa nova.” Another smile. “When they started the movie, I went up and had a drink at the topside bar. I took a walk on deck, turned in around eleven.”
“You were alone all evening?”
I wasn’t surprised the captain was skeptical. Rosie was not the kind of woman to spend an evening by herself except in the most unusual of circumstances.
Her smile was genuine, the implicit compliment accepted. “Yes, I was.” She looked composed and confident.
He wrote on his pad, looked at Kent.
Kent shrugged. “Same song, second verse. I didn’t see Sophia after Thursday night, never planned to see her again. I was finished with the lady. She could whistle, but this dog didn’t intend to come. Thursday night was my farewell to Pop’s insanity. Friday night I wasn’t paying attention to time. I spent most of the evening up in the computer bay, sending e-mails.” For an instant, his eyes were hot points of anger. “And yeah”—his glance at Jimmy was cold—“Sophia screwed up my love life, but”—he jerked his head toward me—“thanks to Mrs. Collins, I think I can straighten everything out. You can check what time my e-mails went out. I don’t know that it matters. I took some breaks, got a couple of beers, went to the john. I got back to my cabin around eleven, must have just missed seeing my sis. But I never saw Sophia after Thursday night.”
“None of us saw her after Thursday.” Madge Riordan looked at Captain Wilson with her blue eyes wide. “It’s like Kent said. We didn’t have any reason to talk to her. Friday night Alex and I watched the movie Calendar Girls. You know, the funny one about the ladies who pose nude for a calendar to raise money. Alex and I loved it.”
I was looking at Alex. His expression was tense.
Madge rushed on. “There’s a scene where—”
Captain Wilson was brisk. “Yes, Mrs. Riordan. You watched the film. And then?”
She looked at him earnestly. “We stayed for the whole thing. We didn’t get back to our cabin until eleven-thirty. We must have just missed all the excitement when you started looking for Sophia.”
The lounge was darkened for the showing of a movie. It would be easy to slip out unnoticed and return. I suspected Madge and Alex would have no difficulty describing the plot, the funniest scenes. Movies shown in the lounge were also repeated throughout the day on cabin television.
Madge relaxed back in her seat. Was it the relief of an innocent person or was she hiding something?
Captain Wilson turned to me. “Mrs. Collins, you are the last person to have seen Mrs. Lennox.”
“I am the last person who admits to seeing Mrs. Lennox.” I wanted the distinction to be made.
“Indeed. Describe your meeting with her.” His gaze was intent, his blue eyes speculative and thoughtful.
I intended to go about it in my own way. “I took Mrs. Lennox materials I received from her husband prior to the trip. I was convinced that once she read Jimmy’s letter and the information he had sent to me about the Riordan family and the trust funds, she would understand that her husband was trying to protect her and that the danger to her came from a member of the Riordan family.”
“That’s what they’ve claimed all along.” Madge’s voice was shrill, her glare was venomous.
I ignored her. “As I expected, once Mrs. Lennox read the letter she realized she had been mistaken in suspecting her husband. In fact, almost her last words to me were her hope that he would forgive her. She intended to call and ask him to come and see her.”
Captain Wilson’s eyes narrowed. “Describe the materials you took to her cabin.”
The request surprised me. “I left them on the coffee table. You can read them, add them to the record.”
“Describe them, please.”
I was puzzled. “An overnight mailer, a letter from Jimmy, biographical data about each of the Riordans, pictures of Sophia and the Riordans.”
The captain’s voice was measured. “No such materials were found in Mrs. Lennox’s cabin.”
I stared at him, bewildered. “I left everything with her. The letter and the dossiers were spread out on the coffee table.” I realized as I spoke that neither Jimmy nor I could prove the existence of any of the papers. Captain Wilson and Staff Captain Glenn could conclude that Jimmy and I had engaged in an elaborate charade, our final objective Sophia’s murder with the Riordans as suspects-in-waiting.
“There were no such papers.” His voice was decisive.
Evelyn looked shocked. Val sat in quiet misery with no apparent interest in her surroundings. Rosie frowned. Kent gave a low whistle, raised an eyebrow. Madge hissed in Alex’s ear.
Jimmy and I had no proof that anything we’d reported was true. There was no way we could prove—suddenly, I felt almost giddy with relief. “Sophia called Jimmy. She left him a message.”
“I told Glenn last night.” Jimmy’s voice was weary. “I found Sophia’s message when I came down to my cabin. Sophia said she was sorry for even thinking I might have pushed her, that she wasn’t thinking straight, that she”—he took a breath—“was jealous. She said Henrie O had brought my letter to her and now she understood. She asked me to forgive her.”
Captain Wilson watched Jimmy intently. “Would you say that the tenor of her message was emotional?”
Jimmy’s face was abruptly ridged with lines of distress. He was long in answering. “Yes.”
“Yet”—and the captain’s eyes were cold—“you did not save that message. If your description of the message is accurate, why did you erase it? Wouldn’t the recipient of such a message have been inclined to save it, perhaps to listen to it again? Instead, you erased that message. Why, Mr. Lennox?”
Jimmy slumped back in his chair. He stared toward the windows giving onto the sea, his face heavy with sorrow. “I was furious. I didn’t see anything beyond the way she’d treated me. God forgive me, I didn’t help her.”
I leaned forward. “Is there a record of a call from Sophia’s suite to Jimmy’s cabin?” Even as I asked, I knew an electronic record was no help. As far as the captain and Glenn were concerned, every word I’d uttered could be a lie. I could have gone to see Sophia, possibly Jimmy and I together, killed her, pushed her overboard, then called his cabin and left a message which, of course, he later deleted.
Captain Wilson glanced at his notes. “A call was made from Suite 6088 to Cabin 6048 at twenty-two hundred eighteen. If it was made by Mrs. Lennox, that is the last indication that she was alive.” He turned to me. “Where did you go when you left Mrs. Lennox’s suite?”
“Diogenes Bar. I was there until I left with Val Riordan about half past eleven.” I was sure the waiter would remember helping me with Val, but my presence there was no proof of innocence.
Captain Wilson folded his hands, gazed at Jimmy. “Mr. Lennox?”
Jimmy met his stare with a trace of anger. “I’ve already told Glenn. Topside bar. Sundeck. Down to my cabin around eleven.”
“You claim that you did not enter Mrs. Lennox’s cabin last night?” There was a heavy finality to Captain Wilson’s voice.
“I did not.” Jimmy’s face was set in hard, defiant lines.
Captain Wilson folded his arms. His gaze was steely. “Mr. Lennox, your key was used to enter Suite 6088 at precisely twenty-three oh-three Friday evening. Every time an electronic key is inserted into a cabin lock, the code on the back of the key registers which key was used. The key that opened the door at that moment was one of two keys issued to that suite when you boarded. Mrs. Lennox’s key was in her purse.”
Jimmy looked stunned. “That’s impossible. I left that key in the bowl on the coffee table Thursday night.” He looked at Glenn. “You saw me leave it. Sophia kicked me out, asked for my key.”
“No folder was found in the bowl. Neither the folder nor the key within it.” Glenn’s eyes narrowed. “To be precise, Mr. Lennox, I saw you toss a key folder into the bowl. If you recall, you accepted a new key folder from me, placed it in your right trouser pocket. Mrs. Lennox asked for your key to her cabin. You reached into your left hip pocket, but it is possible that you edged the card loose in your pocket and threw the folder—without the key card—into the bowl.”
Across the table, Kent flipped open his key folder, edged the key from behind its plastic sheath. He looked at Jimmy, his gaze wondering.
I wanted to cry out that Jimmy could not possibly have managed such a sleight of hand, but it could have happened. I knew it had not. I knew Jimmy. There were many Jimmys, but never a crafty, wily, dangerous Jimmy.
Jimmy’s face was bleak. “You give me credit for incredibly quick thinking. Murderous thinking, I take it.”
Captain Wilson held up a hand. “I am not implying murder, Mr. Lennox. However, we have to consider the facts as we find them. The key must be explained. It would be understandable”—he picked his words carefully—“if you came to see Mrs. Lennox and if you told her that your differences were irreconcilable, she might have been so distraught after you left she decided upon suicide.”
“In a word, no.” Jimmy was emphatic. “It didn’t happen. If there had been such an exchange with my wife, I can assure you suicide would never have been her choice. Moreover, I accept responsibility for my actions. I’m guilty for not responding when she reached out to me. But that’s all I’m guilty of. I didn’t see Sophia. I didn’t quarrel with her. I never hurt her.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve told you everything I know. I did not keep the key, nor did I use it last night. If anyone entered the cabin with that key, it wasn’t me.”