I poured a handful of pepitas, welcomed their salty crunch. Night pressed against the windows as the Clio steamed toward London. We would be at sea for two and a half days. I was a few minutes early to meet Jimmy for an after-dinner drink. I’d taken the excursion into Lübeck and stayed for dinner, a welcome respite from our failed effort to determine the truth behind Sophia’s disappearance.
I hadn’t joined the Riordans on the tour. I deliberately chose another bus. What good would it do to look at them once again, see their now-familiar faces, try to imagine one of them stepping into Sophia’s cabin with a murderous heart? I didn’t sightsee with them, but I caught occasional glimpses, once in the famous marzipan store, again at the Gothic city hall. Evelyn clutched shopping bags. Rosie clowned with a lion’s-head hand puppet, making Val laugh. Alex ate a big pretzel. Madge shrank away from a dancing bear and his accordion-playing owner. Kent carried a porcelain doll. Everywhere he went, he shopped for Heather. Perhaps that was his way of clinging to the hope that love would win out.
I’d tried to persuade Jimmy to come with me, lose himself for a while in wandering about the old city, which played such a major role in the Hanseatic League, but he was involved with e-mails about Sophia. He’d fielded calls from the media. He’d prepared a release with a summary of Sophia’s career and the enigmatic pronouncement: “Sophia Montgomery Holbrook Riordan Lennox was last seen on the evening of Friday, August 20. After a search of the Clio and the surrounding waters, Clio staff captain Gerald Glenn officially deemed her missing at sea.”
Jimmy would face intense media questioning in London. I doubted that he cared. If he reached London with Sophia’s loss still a mystery, he would have failed. I wished I could reach the frozen core deep inside him, make him see that he’d done everything possible from beginning to end, that Sophia’s loss could never be blamed on him whether it was the result of suicide or murder. I didn’t think we would ever know what happened.
The pianist segued into a sprightly version of “Tennessee Waltz.” Voices murmured, occasional laughter sounded. The mood in the dimly lit bar was mellow. Most of the tables were occupied, passengers enjoying their last days of carefree delight as the cruise neared its end.
Jimmy paused in the doorway, looking for me. I raised a hand. He came quickly, dropped into the opposite chair, saw the Beck’s beer I’d ordered for him. He touched the frosted bottle. “Thanks.”
I lifted my glass, a gin and tonic. “To you.” I hoped he understood what I was telling him. You’ve done your best. Remember and grieve. Don’t blame yourself.
“I can’t stay long.” There was a ripple of excitement in his voice. “I’m going to break it open.” He poured the beer into the frosted glass. “In fifteen minutes Ingrid’s going to meet me on the sundeck, tell me what she saw Friday night.”
I looked at him in amazement. “This morning she acted terrified.” Ingrid had turned the service cart and pushed it forward as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels. Jimmy had wanted to follow and confront her, but I’d persuaded him to let it go.
Jimmy lifted the glass, took a quick drink, wiped foam from his upper lip. He was excited. “Who’s to know? I thought she’d done something that would get her in trouble with Glenn and was afraid I’d mess everything up for her. I’d decided she didn’t know anything useful about Sophia. I still don’t know where she could have been. Like you said, there are no supply closets in the stern corridor. But tonight when I got back to my cabin after dinner, there was a phone message from her.”
“Are you positive it was Ingrid?” I felt uneasy.
“Not a doubt.” His smile was wry. “She told me to bring the money. Nobody else but you knows I offered her a thousand dollars. So she’s got something to sell.”
I leaned forward. “Jimmy, I don’t like this. Call Glenn, tell him.”
His smile fled. His sandy brows drew down in a thoughtful frown. “Tell him what?”
“Your contact with Ingrid. Mine. The fact that it looks like she knows something and is willing to speak up for cash.” I reached across the table, caught his wrist.
“I can’t do that. When I offered the reward, I promised her I’d try to keep her out of anything I told Glenn.” He twisted his hand, caught mine in a tight, reassuring grip. “Don’t worry, honey. This is the break we need.” He loosed my hand, grabbed his glass, his face upbeat once again.
The endearment pulled me back to other days, days when we had found such pleasure in each other.
He drank half the glass, checked his watch. “I’m going on up. If all goes well, I’ll have something definite for Glenn.”
I crumpled my napkin, tossed it on the table. “I’ll come with you.”
He held up a hand. “I have to show up alone. She insisted. If anybody’s with me, it’s no deal. She’d spot you near the stairs to the sundeck. It’s okay, Henrie O. Relax, finish your drink.” The old vitality was back in his voice. “What can go wrong? I’ll tell you what, I’ll come by your cabin after I’ve talked to her.” He paused. “If I find out something big, I’ll take it straight to Glenn, then call you.”
I took my time finishing the gin and tonic. I didn’t want another. I signed the check, strolled up to Deck 6. It was a good twenty minutes after Jimmy headed for the sundeck that I reached my cabin. I glanced at the phone. No message light. I was puzzled. It was almost ten-thirty. I wouldn’t have thought Jimmy and Ingrid would still be talking. Perhaps he’d persuaded her to go and see Glenn, promising that he’d intercede to help her keep her job.
I sat on the vanity bench, removed my gold filigree earrings. They were old favorites. Richard had given them to me for a long-ago birthday. I looked in the mirror. When I’d first worn them, my skin was smooth and unlined, my dark hair untouched by silver. I balanced the earrings in my palm, looked dispassionately at my silver-streaked hair, the smudges beneath my dark eyes, the lines of laughter and sadness on my face. I felt caught between past and present. Perhaps the truest sign of age is when the heart stubbornly looks back instead of forward. If Richard had lived…
I opened the drawer, dropped the earrings into my satin-lined jewel case. I had a quick vision of Richard, broad open face kind but chiding. He’d always embraced the old Protestant hymn “Work, for the Night Is Coming.” I no longer had work as my mainstay, but I still had tasks to complete. Jimmy needed my support.
Abruptly my eyes sought the clock. I’d slipped into a reverie but time, as time does, had inexorably passed. A quarter to eleven and no word from Jimmy. I rose, walked toward the closet. I slipped out of the beige silk dress I’d worn to dinner, hung it up, placed the sling pumps on the floor. I hesitated, then reached for a blue T and white cotton slacks, pulled them on. I stepped into sandals.
I settled on the balcony, left the door open so I’d hear Jimmy’s knock. I still felt uneasy, although Jimmy was probably right. What could go wrong? Why would Ingrid talk to Jimmy unless she was willing to offer some kind of information? Still, her invitation to meet him on the remote and dimly lit sundeck seemed surprising after her frantic flight this morning. However, a thousand dollars was probably a goodly sum to Ingrid, though I wouldn’t have thought enough to make her jeopardize her job. If she saw Sophia Friday night long after she’d gone off duty, she had subsequently lied when Glenn spoke to her. I didn’t think Glenn would be pleased if an employee lied.
I pushed up from the chair, moved to the railing, looked up at the star-spangled sky. The brilliance of the stars and the luminous glow of the August moon and the darkness of the water were a reminder not only of the puniness of human affairs but of the reality of how far we were from land. The Clio churned steadily through the night. I understood Jimmy’s desperation, but I wished—
The telephone rang. I felt a surge of pleased surprise. Jimmy must have found out something important enough to share with Glenn so he was calling rather than dropping by. I hadn’t expected this outcome. I was thrilled for him. Perhaps it had taken Ingrid time to understand the importance of what she had seen. If she saw anything that mattered, it had to be the person who used Jimmy’s key. Had it been Sophia or was the answer darker than that?
I hurried into the cabin, reached for the receiver. “Hello.” I heard the uplift in my voice. I was smiling.
“Henrie O.” Jimmy’s voice was stiff and strained, a man grappling with shock. “Ingrid didn’t show up. I waited almost an hour. Finally, I gave up. I came back to my cabin and she’s here. She’s dead. I’ve called Glenn. Don’t come. It’s ugly.”