No one spoke as we filed out of the bridge area into the public foyer. Glenn accompanied us. He remained in the doorway and looked toward Jimmy and me and Kent. “The captain requests that all passengers who traveled with Mrs. Lennox complete the voyage and disembark when the Clio reaches the port of London. However, you may join shore excursions if you wish.” His meaning was clear. We might have some freedom of movement, but we were to continue as passengers for the duration of the voyage. He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned back and the door closed.
Kent scowled. “That makes one more week before I can see Heather. Sophia is as much trouble dead as she was alive.”
Jimmy took a step toward him, his fists doubling. I grabbed his arm, then stepped toward Kent. “You told everyone Jimmy and I were leaving in Helsinki.”
Kent’s gaze slid away. He didn’t answer.
Rosie was crisp. “He told us at lunch. We all heard it. Everybody hoped things would go better for Jimmy. But none of us harmed Sophia. I know Jimmy didn’t either.” She looked at him. “She either fell or jumped. Nobody pushed her. Not you. Not us.”
Jimmy’s face softened. “Thank you, Rosie. But we have to find out about that key. Somebody opened Sophia’s door. Who?”
Evelyn clapped her hands together. “I know.”
We all looked at her, waited.
“Maybe Sophia decided to go out for a while and that’s the key she picked up.” Evelyn’s voice was eager. “The key was right there in the bowl. It saved her from finding her purse, getting out her folder.” Evelyn looked excitedly at Jimmy. “Maybe Sophia went to your cabin to bring you the key. When she didn’t find you, she came back, used that key to get in. It makes all kinds of sense. I’ll tell Mr. Glenn. It just shows they aren’t so smart. No one even suggested Sophia using the key.” Her voice lifted with confidence. “I’ll call him when I get back to my cabin. Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about any of it now. The ship people will make out their report, and we have to see the trip through. But”—her look at Jimmy was kind—“I know you wouldn’t hurt Sophia. It had to be an accident. Accidents happen.” Her tone was stubborn. “I for one am sure it was an accident. In any event, we’ll want to arrange a memorial service for Sophia.”
Jimmy was touched. “Thank you, Evelyn. I’d appreciate your help.”
Evelyn’s smile was pleased. “We’ll all work together.”
I suddenly felt uncertain. Jimmy insisted Sophia wouldn’t fall, must have been pushed. But at this moment I had trouble imagining any of the Riordans as dangerous. Evelyn was the epitome of a frowsy traveler, no more threatening than a water beetle. Val stared blankly at the lift door, withdrawn, self-absorbed, nursing her hangover. Rosie looked as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Kent rocked back on his heels, nodding in agreement. Alex beamed at his aunt. Madge’s face was inscrutable, but she slowly nodded.
“Sophia could have picked up the key from the bowl.” Jimmy’s weary face wrinkled in thought. “If she didn’t find me, she’d have come back to the cabin, used the key.”
Evelyn rushed ahead. “The sea was rough. Maybe she went out on the balcony. She could have fallen.”
I watched Jimmy, saw his face smooth out into unreadable blandness. I knew that look. He didn’t believe Sophia had fallen, would never believe she’d jumped, but he was an old and savvy reporter who was smart enough to listen without tipping his hand. “Maybe,” he said slowly.
“That has to be what happened. I know Mr. Glenn will agree.” Relief lifted Evelyn’s voice. “Now, Jimmy, you better get some rest. You’ve been up all night. I’ll get busy, send word to some of Sophia’s friends.” Evelyn moved toward the elevator, her nieces and nephews following. “Jimmy, let us know if there is anything we can do.”
I wandered restlessly about the Clio throughout the afternoon, watched the excursions depart and return. We sailed from Helsinki at six-thirty. I heard nothing from Jimmy. I knew he was dealing with e-mails and phone calls. I hoped he was too busy to feel, too numb from exhaustion to grieve. I ordered soup and a sandwich to my cabin for an early dinner, then stumbled to the bed and fell into a deep but uneasy sleep.
I woke to unpleasant memories: my last glimpse of Sophia, the long wearing night and longer day with no news, the strangely polite yet devastating inquiry, and Glenn’s bombshell: Jimmy’s key had opened the door to Sophia’s cabin at three minutes after eleven.
I propped up on my elbow, gazed toward the balcony door, realized it was bright outside. I’d slept for a long time. The key…I wondered if Evelyn had contacted Glenn and if it had possibly already occurred to him that it might have been Sophia who used the key.
I showered and dressed, walked up to Deck 9 for breakfast. The Clio docked at Turku, Finland, at eight o’clock. After the excursions were done, the Clio departed for Stockholm in midafternoon. I carried my tray to an outside table though it was still cool. I spread cream cheese on a bagel, added a slice of salmon.
We passed small fir-crowned islands, part of the archipelago. As I ate, I thought about the key. Was it as simple as Evelyn believed? Had Sophia reached for the nearest key? That was plausible.
If Sophia had not used the key, whose hand held it? How had it been obtained? Would Glenn seek to answer these questions or was the investigation done, the conclusion reached that Jimmy had managed to slip the electronic card free and kept it for his own use?
Yet surely the missing material that I brought her was proof that someone other than Sophia had been in the cabin. She had no reason to throw away the folder. Jimmy had no reason to destroy the information. Only one of the Riordans had reason to get rid of the letter and dossiers. But, of course, Glenn might not believe the material had ever existed.
There was another possibility. Sophia opened the door to a visitor, the visitor overpowered her, pushed her overboard, and took Jimmy’s key. Sophia’s murderer then stepped out into the hall, closed the door, and used Jimmy’s key to reopen the door, a deliberate effort to incriminate him. That would explain why the key wasn’t in the ceramic bowl. It had not been used by Sophia to enter the cabin. It had been used to make it look as though Jimmy had kept the key.
There was one impassable barrier to this solution. If the visitor was not Jimmy, Jimmy for whom Sophia had called, and was instead a member of the Riordan family, Sophia would not have opened the door. She knew she was in danger. She had no doubt about the incident at the Hermitage. She had been pushed, deliberately and hard. Sophia was confident and cool, but she was not reckless. It would have been foolish indeed to open her door late at night to one of the Riordans.
I did not believe Sophia opened her door.
I knew Jimmy didn’t palm the leather folder.
I doubted Sophia used the key. Why wouldn’t she have dropped it into the bowl upon her return? Wouldn’t that have been natural? Of course, Sophia could have opened the door and slipped the key into the pocket of her linen slacks and the key went with her to her watery death.
Perhaps, but I had a bone-deep feeling that if we ever discovered who used the key, we would know everything.
I had a ticket for the excursion into Turku, but I had no intention of going. I wondered if the Riordans were among those disembarking. I hoped Evelyn had encouraged them to take the excursion. Activity helps relieve stress. None of the Riordans, with the possible exception of Evelyn, were fond of Sophia, but her loss was shocking.
I would have been glad to be free of the Clio for a few hours, but I wanted to satisfy myself that I’d done everything possible to help Jimmy. I didn’t call him, tell him what I planned. I debated calling Glenn, asking him what he’d discovered from the stewardess who serviced Sophia’s cabin. There was no good reason why he should tell me anything. Also, I’m like most old reporters. Don’t take handouts. Find out for yourself.
When the last party of sightseers departed, I stepped out of my cabin. The ship had a feeling of emptiness. Our stewardess was midway up the hall. I started toward her. Monika was tall and thin, with a gentle face. Her short-sleeved white blouse was topped by a blue half apron that matched her skirt. I heard the sound of vacuuming from one of the cabins.
I stopped in front of her. “Monika, what hours do you work?”
I suppose it was part of her training to reply politely no matter how odd the question. She replied quickly in slightly accented English. “I am on duty from ten to fourteen hundred and from sixteen to twenty-two hundred, Mrs. Collins. If you need me at any other time, I will be available.”
“Thank you.” I smiled and walked on. My smile slipped away. Stewardesses went off duty at 10 P.M., too early to be of help. Still, it never hurt to ask. I kept on toward the stern. I spotted a service cart in the hallway near the Riordan cabins.
As I recalled, Evelyn was in the cabin next to Sophia and Jimmy. I came around the cart. I was at the conjunction of the long hallway from the bow to the stern and the short hallway from starboard to port. I could see the door to Sophia’s cabin as well as the row of cabins belonging to the Riordans.
I waited until the stewardess stepped out into the corridor. She was humming a cheerful tune. She stopped when she saw me. “Ma’am, may I help you?” Her nameplate read INGRID. She was younger than my stewardess, Monika, likely not much over twenty. Her round face was framed by thick blond hair. Her complexion was rosy and flawless, her features attractive. She was a pretty girl with a full figure. Likely she’d tend toward plumpness when she was older.
I wasn’t especially hopeful. Staff Captain Glenn was smart and capable. I was confident he would be careful, thorough, and persistent in making inquiries, but it wouldn’t do any harm to try.
“Ingrid”—I gestured toward Cabin 6088—“I’m sure you know that Mrs. Lennox disappeared Friday night. I’m a friend of hers, and I’m hoping you can help me.”
“Oh, ma’am, I’m sorry.” Her eyes, a clear bright blue, clouded in sympathy. “What can I do?”
“Staff Captain Glenn asked you if you saw her that evening.” I made it a statement, not a question.
“Yes, ma’am. I turned down the covers at twenty-one hundred. I didn’t see her again. I go off duty at twenty-two hundred.”
That should have been that, but her response was so glib, so quick, that I looked at her intently. There was the tiniest flare of wariness in her eyes. Her expression was open, frank, and honest. Too honest. There was something she didn’t want to reveal.
“What did you do when you got off work?”
The question caught her by surprise. She hesitated a fraction too long. “I went to the second showing of the movie.”
“I’ll bet that was fun. Did you go with a friend?” She was a very pretty girl. I didn’t doubt that some young man aboard ship had noticed.
She looked uncomfortable. “Oh no, ma’am. I went by myself.”
Did she resent being asked a personal question? Or was she unable to claim a companion at the movie because she hadn’t been in the lounge? “I was hoping you might have seen the person who entered Mrs. Lennox’s cabin a few minutes after eleven.”
“Entered it? But—” She broke off, looking puzzled, then shook her head. “I wouldn’t know. I go off duty at twenty-two hundred.” Her expression was bland.
“Perhaps you forgot something, came back to this area.”
“No, ma’am.” Her gaze didn’t falter. “I went to the movie.”
Jimmy took a sip of Scotch. His face was pale and drawn, but his blue eyes were no longer glazed with fatigue. We sat at a secluded table in the topside bar. The wide windows were dark and the Clio churned steadily southwestward en route to Stockholm. A trio played Caribbean music, the notes of the marimba soft and evocative.
He listened intently as I described my inconclusive interview with Ingrid. “…and I don’t believe for a minute she went to a movie. She looked at me with wide-open eyes and an angel’s face and lied.” I paused. “She’s a pretty girl.”
“Yeah. She is.” Jimmy picked up the tall slender dish in the center of the table, rattled peanuts into his hand. “That’s probably the answer right there. She’s probably having an affair with some guy and she doesn’t want anybody snooping into where she was after she got off work.”
I didn’t know much about the inner workings of a cruise ship, but I doubted staff had the free time and, much more important, the privacy to pursue too many amorous delights while at sea. I suspected private quarters were only for high-ranking officers. A dormitory arrangement was probably the rule for service personnel.
I felt dissatisfied. “Do you think it would do any good for me to talk to Glenn, ask him to see her again?”
Jimmy looked thoughtful. “If she’s lied to him once, she’ll cling to that story no matter what.” He popped peanuts in his mouth, said indistinctly, “Don’t rile up Glenn. I’ll give it a try, see if I can get anywhere with her. If I offer her a reward, maybe she’ll cooperate. If she actually knows anything. But”—he sounded discouraged—“I can’t see any reason why she’d be near her duty station an hour after she got off work. Probably the lie had to do with going to the movie. She was up to something that she wants to keep hidden.”
“I suppose so.” I was oddly reluctant to give up on Ingrid. I was sure that she was hiding something, but Jimmy was probably right. Her secret likely had nothing to do with Sophia, and if she had indeed lied to Glenn, she could not afford to change her story.
“The hell of it is”—Jimmy looked grim—“I don’t see what more Glenn can do. He’s interviewed the passengers in nearby cabins and the service staff. Nobody saw Sophia Friday night or anyone in the corridor. He thinks Evelyn may be right and Sophia herself used that key.”
“Then where is the key? And where are the papers I gave her?” That was the sticking point to me.
Jimmy’s hand tightened around his glass. His voice was strained. “Glenn thinks she was so upset when she got back she went out on the balcony and jumped. If that’s true, she must have had the key and papers with her.” He looked at me with tortured eyes. “I know that’s not true, but he won’t listen. He thinks I don’t want to believe it because I blame myself. I can’t get him to understand that it doesn’t matter how distraught Sophia was, she would never have killed herself. That leaves it up to me to figure out what happened.” His voice was low and hard. “Evelyn wants to believe it was an accident. I let her think I agreed. I have to be able to talk to the Riordans. I’d agree to anything.”
I’d correctly read Jimmy’s suddenly bland expression yesterday.
Jimmy rubbed his face. “Evelyn’s crazy about those kids. In her heart she must know one of them did it. She has to know. Or maybe she wants to believe in them so bad she’s convinced herself that Sophia jumped. But I know one of them killed Sophia. I’m going to keep after them. I’ll find out the truth. Somehow. Some way. I owe Sophia.”
I woke early and watched the sun rise. After breakfast, I sat on my balcony as the Clio glided to her berth in Stockholm. At the last minute, I decided to go on the excursion into the city, hoping to divert my thoughts from their endless, fruitless effort to figure out who took the key from the ceramic bowl.
In the sumptuous Golden Hall of Stockholm’s city hall, a trim, energetic guide described the grandeur of the annual Nobel Prize banquet: the elegant dress, magnificent music, the congregation of the world’s greatest minds. Names drifted through my mind of past winners in literature, Octavio Paz, John Steinbeck, Albert Camus, Ernest Hemingway, Sinclair Lewis. I tried to envision them as living writers. Did they feel overwhelmed by the opulence of this huge gleaming gold room? I wondered if Alfred Nobel, who invented dynamite and left a fortune to fund awards to those deemed to have most benefited mankind in the previous year, would have been pleased by the kingly presentation of the prizes in his name.
I enjoyed seeing the Golden Hall and the wooden sculpture St. George and the Dragon in Storkyrkan Cathedral, and all the while I worried at the questions I couldn’t answer. Who took the key? What happened to the papers? What could Ingrid have seen?
I skipped the afternoon excursion to Drottningholm Palace, knowing I would once again be among the few passengers remaining aboard. This time the service cart wasn’t on the port side. I expected Ingrid was even now working her way forward, servicing the starboard cabins. I had no wish to encounter her. Not at this moment.
Once again, I stood at the conjunction of the passageways, the door to Evelyn’s cabin to my right, Sophia’s door in the cross passage about ten feet to my left. Clearly, Evelyn could see Sophia’s door every time she stepped out of her cabin. But—I backed up a few feet—when the other Riordans came into the hallway their view was obscured. The center portion of the Clio was devoted to storage and service areas.
I walked aft into the cross hallway. The two great suites occupied the space at the stern. Opposite them, at the end of the central service block, there were two cabin doors, 6090 and 6093. These were small interior cabins with no outlook to the sea. Less desirable, they would be considerably less expensive. However, anyone opening one of these doors had an unobstructed view of Sophia’s door.
And so? I shook my head in discouragement. Glenn told Jimmy he’d checked with all nearby passengers. He certainly wouldn’t have missed these cabins. Yet it was clear that Ingrid could only have glimpsed Sophia’s door by looking out of one of four cabins: Evelyn’s, the matching cabin on the starboard side, or the two interior ones opposite the suites. There were no storage doors with the necessary vantage point. Even if Ingrid had been in the area long past her duty hours, she could not have opened a service door and seen anyone at Sophia’s door.
Disappointed, I turned and walked slowly forward. Sophia was gone and there didn’t seem to be any link to her murderer. The days of our cruise were growing ever shorter. Today was Monday. We would leave Stockholm shortly before dinner, sail through the night, and anchor tomorrow afternoon off the Swedish coast for excursions by tender to Karlskrona. Wednesday the Clio reached the German harbor of Travemünde at noon for afternoon excursions to Lübeck. Wednesday evening the Clio began her final leg of this cruise, leaving Travemünde to be at sea for two and a half days before arriving in London at noon on Saturday, where we would disembark.
Would a murderer walk free?