All by Myself, Alone Page 3

  Steven shared with me a quote he had never forgotten. “I’m fiercely independent, but I’m afraid of being alone.” I had found a kindred spirit. I felt myself falling in love with Steven, falling in love with a lie.

  She did not change from the light blue jacket and slacks she had worn aboard. A narrow gold necklace and diamond stud earrings and the ring that had been her mother’s were the only jewelry she was wearing. She remembered what her father had said when he gave the ring to her on her sixteenth birthday.

  “I know you can’t remember her, but this is the first birthday gift I ever gave your mother, the year we were married.”

  She took the elevator up to the Queen’s Lounge, and as she had expected, it was almost full. But there was a table for two that the waiter was clearing and she walked over to it. By the time she got there, it was ready, and in a moment a waiter was waiting to take her order.

  She decided on a glass of Chardonnay, then began looking around the room, recognizing some celebrity faces. A voice asked courteously, “Are you expecting someone? And if not, may I share your table? The salon is busy and this seems to be the only seat available.”

  Celia looked up. A thin, balding man of medium height was standing there. His polite request had been delivered in a well-modulated tone of voice, with an unmistakable British accent.

  “Of course you may,” she said, forcing a smile. As he pulled out the chair, he said, “I know you are Celia Kilbride and will be lecturing on famous gemstones. And I am your fellow lecturer Henry Longworth. My subject is the Bard, Shakespeare, and the psychology of the characters in his plays.”

  This time Celia’s smile was genuine. “Oh, I’m so glad to meet you. I loved studying Shakespeare in school and even memorized some of his sonnets.” As the waiter returned with her Chardonnay, Longworth waited, ordered a Johnny Walker Blue scotch on the rocks, then turned his full attention to Celia.

  “And which was your favorite sonnet?”

  “ ‘Thou art thy mother’s glass . . . , ’ ” she began.

  “ ‘And she in thee recalls the lovely April of her prime,’ ” Longworth finished.

  “Of course, you know it,” Celia said.

  “May I ask, why is it your favorite?”

  “My mother died when I was two years old. When I was about sixteen, my father recited it to me. And looking at her picture and mine, they’re almost interchangeable.”

  “Then your mother must have been a very beautiful woman,” Longworth observed matter-of-factly. “Did your father remarry?”

  Celia felt the glistening of tears begin to form in her eyes. How did I ever get into this conversation? she asked herself.

  “No, he never did.” To forestall any more personal questions, she said, “He died two years ago.”

  The words still sounded unreal to her.

  Daddy was only fifty-six, she thought. He never was sick a day in his life, but then he had a massive heart attack and was gone.

  And if he were alive, he’d have seen right through Steven, she thought.

  “I’m very sorry,” Longworth said. “I know how painful that loss must be for you. Let me say that I am so glad that we are not speaking at the same time. I am very much looking forward to hearing your lecture tomorrow. Since I am a student of the wonderful Elizabethan era, tell me, do you cover any jewelry from that period?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “At your young age, how did you become such an expert?”

  They were now on safe ground.

  “I learned about gems from my father,” she said. “From the time I was three, what I wanted most for Christmas and birthdays was necklaces and bracelets for my dolls and me. My father was at first amused, and then realized I was fascinated by jewelry and began teaching me how to evaluate gems. Then after taking some geology and mineralogy courses in college, I went for my diploma in gemology and became an FGA, Fellow of the Gemological Association of Great Britain.”

  As the waiter arrived with Longworth’s drink, Lady Em stopped at the table. She was wearing a triple pearl necklace and pearl earrings. Celia knew how valuable they were. Lady Em had brought them to Carruthers last month to be cleaned and restrung.

  She began to get up, but Lady Em put a hand on her shoulder. “Please don’t, Celia. I just wanted to say that I have requested that both of you be placed at my table in the dining room.”

  She glanced at Longworth. “I know this lovely young lady,” she told him, “and I know your reputation as a Shakespearean scholar. It will be good to share your company.” Without waiting for an answer, she swept past them with a man and two women in tow behind her.

  “And who is that?” Longworth asked.

  “That’s Lady Emily Haywood,” Celia explained. “She is a bit imperious, but I can assure you she’s delightful company.” She watched as Lady Em was escorted to a vacant table by the window. “She must have reserved that one,” she said.

  “Who are the people with her?” Longworth asked.

  “I don’t know the other two, but the larger woman is Brenda Martin, Lady Em’s personal assistant.”

  “Lady Em, as you call her, seems to be rather authoritative,” Longworth observed dryly, “but I don’t regret being at her table. It should be quite interesting.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it will be,” Celia agreed.

  “Miss Kilbride.” A waiter came up behind her. He was holding a phone in his hand. “A call for you,” he said as he handed it to her.

  “A call for me,” Celia said, surprised. Don’t let it be Steven again, she prayed.

  It was Randolph Knowles, the lawyer she had hired when she was contacted by the FBI to give a deposition. Why would he be calling? she asked herself.

  “Hello, Randolph, is there a problem?”

  “Celia, I have to give you a heads-up. Steven has given a long interview to People magazine. It will come out the day after tomorrow. He claims you knew he was defrauding your friends. They called me asking for a comment. I declined. The article states that you and Steven laughed together about it!”

  Celia felt her body go cold. “Dear God, how could he?” she breathed.

  “Try not to be too upset. Everyone knows he’s a congenital liar. My source in the U.S. Attorney’s Office told me you are not currently a person of interest, but it is possible they will ask the FBI to interview you again about some of the information in the article. No matter what happens I’m afraid there is going to be some nasty publicity. A strong argument in our favor is that you invested a quarter of a million dollars in his hedge fund.”

  A quarter of a million dollars, the money her father had left her in his will. Every nickel she had.

  “I’ll keep you posted.” He sounds worried, she thought. He’s only a few years out of law school. I wonder if it was a mistake to hire him. He may be in over his head.

  “Thanks, Randolph.” She handed the phone to the waiter.

  “Celia, you look troubled,” Longworth said. “Is there anything wrong?”

  “Try everything,” Celia told him as the chimes indicated that dinner was being served.

  12

  Devon Michaelson was pleased to see that there was no available table in the Queen’s Lounge and went down to the Lido Bar for a gin martini. He saw two well-appointed couples at the bar who fortunately were deep in conversation. When the chimes sounded, he went down to the dining room.

  As on the Titanic, the first-class passengers dined in ultimate style. It was a smaller version of the most exclusive dining room on the Titanic. Decorated in Jacobean style, painted in peanut-white, the furniture, chairs and tables were oak and designed to add luxury and comfort at all times. Specially mounted chandeliers gave a regal look to the room. Candle-style lamps adorned each table. Silk curtains framed the large bay windows. An orchestra was quietly playing from a raised platform. Fine linen tablecloths set the tone for Limoges china and sterling silver utensils.

  Michaelson would soon be followed into the dining room by a
couple he judged to be in their sixties. As the three of them sat down, he extended his hand and said, “Devon Michaelson.”

  “Willy and Alvirah Meehan.” The name struck a chord in Devon’s memory. Where had he seen or heard of them? he asked himself. As they spoke, a second man came to the table. Tall, with dark hair, warm brown eyes and an easy smile, he took his place and introduced himself, “Ted Cavanaugh.” A moment later a fourth guest arrived. “Anna DeMille,” she announced in a loud voice. Devon judged her to be about fifty. She was very thin, with jet-black hair tapered to her chin, and fiercely black eyebrows, her smile wide and toothy.

  “This is such an adventure,” she exclaimed. “I have never been on a fancy cruise like this before.”

  Wide-eyed, Alvirah was looking around the dining room. “This is so beautiful,” she said. “We’ve been on cruises, but I’ve never seen anything this spectacular. To think that people traveled like this. It takes your breath away.”

  “Honey, on the Titanic their breath was taken away. Most of the passengers drowned,” Willy commented.

  “Well, that’s not going to happen to us,” Alvirah said firmly.

  She turned to Ted Cavanaugh. “In the reception area I heard you say that your father is the retired ambassador to Egypt. I’ve always wanted to go there. Willy and I were at King Tut’s exhibit when it was in New York.”

  “It is quite a remarkable sight, isn’t it?” Ted observed.

  “I have always thought it a shame that so many of the tombs were looted,” Alvirah said.

  “I absolutely could not agree more,” Ted replied emphatically.

  “Did you see all the celebrities who are right here in this very room?” Anna DeMille asked. “I mean it’s like being on the red carpet ourselves. Isn’t it?”

  No one answered as the first course was placed on the table. A generous heaping of Beluga caviar with sour cream on small triangles of toasted bread was served accompanied by tiny glasses of super-cold vodka.

  After she dove into it, Anna turned her attention to Devon. “And what do you do?” she asked.

  Devon’s cover identity was that he was a retired engineer living in Montreal. That was not enough for Anna.

  “Are you traveling alone?” she asked inquisitively.

  “Yes, I lost my wife to cancer.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. When did it happen?”

  “A year ago. We were planning to take this trip together. I have brought the urn with her ashes to scatter into the Atlantic. It was her final request.”

  That should block off any more cross-examination, he thought. But Anna was not yet satisfied.

  “Oh, are you going to have a burial ceremony?” she asked. “I’ve read that people do that. If you want company, I’ll be happy to attend.”

  “No, I want to do it myself,” he said as he moved his index finger under his eye to wipe away the beginning of a tear.

  Oh, my God, he thought. There may be no getting rid of this woman.

  Alvirah seemed to sense that he didn’t want any more personal questions.

  “Oh, Anna, tell me all about winning the trip,” she said. “We won the jackpot in a lottery. That’s why we’re able to be here.”

  With Alvirah diverting Anna’s attention away from him, Devon gratefully focused on the table to his right. He closely studied Lady Emily Haywood’s pearls. Magnificent, he thought. But tinsel compared with her emeralds. A worthy challenge for the international jewel thief known as the “Man with One Thousand Faces.” No expense had been spared to ensure he could stay close to Lady Em and the precious Cleopatra necklace.

  He suddenly remembered what he had heard about Alvirah Meehan. She had been instrumental in solving a number of crimes. But it would be better if she didn’t get involved this time. Between Alvirah and Anna, they could make my job harder, he thought grimly.

  After the caviar, a small bowl of soup, a salad and a serving of fish, the main course choices were served. A suitable wine was offered with each course. After dessert, a small bowl, half-filled with water, was placed in front of each diner.

  Willy looked at Alvirah pleadingly. Alvirah looked at Ted Cavanaugh and watched as he dipped his fingers in the bowl and dried them with the napkin in his lap, then moved the bowl and saucer to the left of his plate. Alvirah followed his example, and Willy followed hers.

  “Is this what they call a finger bowl?” Anna asked.

  I wonder what else we’re supposed to call it, Devon thought to himself dryly.

  “More dinners like this and I’ll be big as a house,” Anna sighed.

  “You’ve got a long way to go.” Willy smiled.

  Anna turned her attention to Devon. As dinner was ending, she said, “I know there’s entertainment in the ballroom tonight. Would you like to accompany me?”

  “Thank you. But I don’t think so.”

  “Well then, would you consider a nightcap?”

  Devon stood up. “No,” he said firmly.

  He had intended to follow Lady Haywood’s group if they went to watch the entertainment or into one of the ship’s bars for a cocktail. He wanted to try to insinuate himself into her company. But that wouldn’t happen with a type like Anna DeMille hanging on him.

  “I’m afraid I have some phone calls to return. Good night, everyone.”

  13

  At dinner Lady Em had introduced her guests to Professor Henry Longworth, then turned to Celia. “My dear, I know that you have met Brenda, but I don’t believe you have met Roger Pearson and his wife Yvonne. Roger is my financial advisor and also the executor of my will, and of course, I hope I will not require his services in that area for many years to come.”

  Lady Em laughed. “I heard someone refer to me as a ‘tough old bird,’ and while not flattering, I believe it’s true.” If only it were true, she thought wistfully. They all laughed and lifted their wineglasses as Roger said, “A toast to Lady Emily. I know we are all honored to be with her.”

  Celia noticed that Henry Longworth raised his glass, but was somewhat taken aback by the all-inclusive toast. He hardly knows her, she thought. He was literally forced to join her and now he’s supposed to be honored by her presence. Then when he looked in her direction and raised his eyebrows, she knew that was exactly what he was thinking.

  When the caviar arrived, Lady Em looked at it with satisfaction. “Now this is the way caviar was served in the old days on a cruise.”

  “My guess is that in a restaurant you’d be paying two hundred dollars apiece for this much,” Roger observed.

  “For the price of this trip there should be a bowl of it,” Brenda observed.

  “Which doesn’t mean we won’t be enjoying it,” Roger smiled.

  “Brenda is so careful with my money,” Lady Em said. “She wouldn’t accept a suite next to mine. She insisted on going to the level below.”

  “And it’s perfectly luxurious,” Brenda said firmly.

  Lady Em then turned to Celia. “Do you remember I once told you my favorite quote about jewelry?”

  Celia smiled. “Yes, I do. ‘People will stare. Make it worth their while.’ ”

  Everyone at the table laughed.

  “Very good, Celia. The famous Harry Winston told me that when I met him at a state dinner at the White House.”

  She explained to the others, “Celia is a gem expert. She’s the one I consult when I buy jewelry or have any of my pieces checked for scratches or chips. Of course I enjoy wearing my best jewelry. What in heaven’s name do you own jewelry for, except to wear it? Some of you may have read that on this trip I will be wearing the emerald necklace that was rumored to have been created for Cleopatra. My late husband’s father bought it over one hundred years ago. I have never worn it in public. It is simply priceless. But it seemed fitting that with the majesty of this beautiful ship, I should wear it on the formal nights. On my return to New York I plan to donate it to the Smithsonian Institution. It is so exquisite that I want the world to see it.”

  “Is it
true that there is a statue of Cleopatra wearing what is believed to be that necklace?” Professor Longworth asked.

  “Yes, that is true. And, as I’m sure you know, Celia, emeralds in Cleopatra’s time were not usually treated the way they are now to bring out every facet of their brilliance. The craftsman who treated these emeralds was far ahead of his time.”

  “Lady Em, are you sure you want to part with that necklace?” Brenda protested.

  “I am. It’s time to let the public appreciate it.”

  She turned to Henry Longworth. “When you lecture, do you recite any passages from Shakespeare?”

  “Yes, I do. I select some and then ask the audience for particular ones they might like to hear.”

  “I’ll be there in a front seat,” Lady Em said emphatically.

  They all murmured that they would be there as well, except for Roger’s wife, Yvonne, who had no intention of listening to a lecture about Shakespeare.

  A few minutes earlier she had spotted some people she knew from East Hampton; she excused herself and went to join them.

  Captain Fairfax’s table was in the center of the room. As dinner was ending, he stood up. “We do not usually serve a formal meal on the first night at sea,” he said. “But we have made an exception. We wanted you to begin to experience the fascinating journey you will enjoy over the next five days. Our entertainment tonight is the opera singers Giovanni DiBiase and Meredith Carlino singing selections from Carmen and Tosca. I wish you a very pleasant evening.”

  “I would very much enjoy hearing them,” Lady Em said as she stood up. “But I am a bit weary. I invite anyone who wishes to come join me for a nightcap in the Edwardian Bar.”