Not quite sure why, she opened the door to the hallway. The soft light made her eyes blink. I should go down to Celia’s room, knock on her door and make sure she’s okay, she thought. A glance at her watch made her feel foolish. All Celia needs to really scare her to death is my banging on her door at three-thirty in the morning. I should mind my own business and go back to bed.
She was in the process of closing her door when she heard it. A sound of metal snapping came down the hallway from the direction of Celia’s room. Were her ears playing tricks on her? A few moments later she heard a muffled scream. It was over almost as fast as it had begun, but she felt sure she knew what it was.
She was about to go wake up Willy when she changed her mind. Ted can get there faster, she thought, as she raced down the hall, and started banging on Ted’s door. “Ted, get up. Celia’s in trouble.”
Ted jumped at the first sound, raced to the door in his pajamas and threw it open. Alvirah was in the hallway looking terrified. “I heard a noise from Celia’s room.” Ted didn’t wait for her to finish her explanation. He sprinted down the hall in the direction of Celia’s suite.
Alvirah’s first instinct was to follow him. But then she stopped, hurried back into her room, went over to the bed and shook Willy. “Willy, Willy, wake up. Celia needs us. Come on, Willy, get up.” As a dazed Willy pulled on the pants he had laid out for the next morning, Alvirah breathlessly explained what she had heard. She then called security and asked them to send help.
In a heavy sleep, Celia had been vaguely aware of a sound coming from the hallway. The metallic click of wire cutters severing the chain lock on her door had integrated itself into a dream she was having about when she was a little girl in a playground with her father. By the time she recognized the sounds of footsteps growing closer, the intruder was already upon her. She managed a brief scream before a strong hand held a cloth over her mouth. Struggling to breathe, she looked up to see a stranger’s face hovering over her. In the stranger’s other hand a pistol was pointed at her forehead.
“Make another sound and you’ll join your friend Lady Em. Do you understand?” Although terrified, Celia nodded her head in agreement. She felt the pressure on the cloth over her mouth ease, only to be replaced by something cool and sticky over her lips and chin. It was some type of tape. Unlike when the cloth had covered her nose, she was now able to breathe freely. She had no idea who her attacker was, but she thought there was something vaguely familiar about his voice.
He started speaking again as he tied her hands in front of her, and then her feet. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly calm and measured. “Celia, it’s up to you, whether or not you die tonight. Give me what I want and your friends will find you here safe in the morning. If you want to live, tell me where the Cleopatra necklace is. And I’m warning you, don’t lie to me. I know you have it.”
Celia nodded her head. She was desperate to buy time so that—so that what? Nobody even knew she was in trouble. I can’t tell him Willy has it. He’ll kill him and Alvirah.
She yelped in pain as he pulled off the masking tape. “Okay, Celia, where is the necklace?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have it. I’m sorry, I don’t know.”
“That’s really too bad, Celia. You know there’s an old expression. There’s nothing like fear to help the mind focus.”
The masking tape was slapped back down over her mouth. Strong arms yanked her out of her bed and dragged her toward the balcony door. Keeping one arm around her waist, he opened the door and pushed her out onto the balcony. It was cold and windy. She began to shiver. He hoisted her up into a sitting position on the railing and leaned her over the dark ocean some sixty feet below. His grip on the rope around her hands was the only thing that prevented her from falling.
“All right, Celia, I’m going to ask you one more time who has the necklace,” he said as he ripped the tape from her mouth. “If you still don’t know, I’ll believe you. But then there won’t be any point to my holding on to this rope.” He loosened his grip and allowed her to fall a little before pulling her back. Celia felt waves of nausea and terror wash over her.
“So what’ll it be, Celia? Who has the necklace?”
“She doesn’t have it,” Ted shouted as he plunged through the door and raced onto the balcony. “Get her down off that railing now!”
The intruder and Ted glared at each other, less than five feet separating them. One hand held the rope that kept Celia from falling; the other held the pistol which now was pointed at Ted’s chest.
“Okay, you want to be a hero, where is the necklace?”
“I don’t have it, but I can get it,” Ted said.
“You’re not going anywhere. Get down on your knees. Put your hands behind your head. NOW!”
Ted complied, never taking his eyes off Celia. Although Celia’s feet were tied together, he noticed that she had managed to hook her one foot behind the post beneath her.
“All right, Mr. Cavanaugh, tell me where the necklace is, or the little lady goes for a swim.”
“Wait,” Alvirah yelled as she opened the door and she and Willy raced onto the balcony. “He doesn’t have it. It’s in our room,” Alvirah said. “Free Celia, and we’ll take you to it.”
As Alvirah was speaking, Willy’s hand reached into his pants pocket. He felt the Cleopatra necklace he had hidden there the previous evening and slipped it out of his pocket.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” Willy shouted, as he dangled it in front of the intruder, whose eyes focused on the treasure. Willy briefly made eye contact with Ted, who nodded. It was a chance they had to take. “You must really want this a lot if you’re willing to kill people for it. Here, take it.”
Willy flipped the necklace high in the air toward the intruder, whose only chance to save it from going over the side of the ship was to use his hand that held the pistol. As he reached for it, he released his grip on the rope that held Celia atop the railing. She started to go over backwards, her foot hooking the post, momentarily slowing her fall.
Ted, Alvirah and Willy sprang into action. Ted leapt up, reached over the railing and grabbed Celia’s arms. The momentum of her fall started to drag him over the railing. Alvirah grabbed hold of Ted’s legs and held on for dear life.
Willy had moved immediately when the intruder’s attention was on catching the necklace. In the time it took for Willy to move across the balcony, the thief had caught the necklace and was bringing his arm with the pistol back in Willy’s direction. With a mighty swipe, Willy smacked the intruder’s hand. The pistol fired, narrowly missing Willy’s head. The pistol and the necklace clattered to the balcony floor. Willy grabbed the intruder’s arms.
Ted was straining every muscle in his body to hold on to Celia. His waist was on the balcony railing as he had broken the momentum of her fall. He had stopped her from falling, but didn’t have the strength to pull her back to the height of the railing. A moment later he felt Alvirah’s strong grip on his legs, holding him from toppling over.
“Ted, let go,” Celia screamed. “You’ll fall. You’ll fall.” Desperately she tried to free her hands from his grip.
Willy and the intruder were glaring at each other. Without his pistol, the intruder was no match for the burly ex-plumber. When Willy glanced at Alvirah and Ted struggling to save Celia, he released his hold on the intruder, who ran off the balcony and through the door.
Ted could feel his upper body slipping farther over the rail. Willy rushed to the railing, reached his long arms over and grabbed Ted’s elbows. “Pull her and I’ll pull you,” he said. With a final desperate effort he was able to pull Ted back toward the balcony. A moment later he and Ted hoisted Celia over the rail. The three of them fell along with Alvirah onto the floor of the balcony, exhausted and gasping for breath.
The intruder knew he needed to make it the short distance back to his room and he would be safe. He was confident that no one would be able to identify him. The wig, beard and jacket h
e had worn would quickly be tossed into the ocean below.
He pulled open the door to the hallway and froze. Chief of Security John Saunders was holding a pistol that was aimed at his forehead. He dragged him out into the hallway, where Captain Fairfax and Gregory Morrison, both in Queen Charlotte bathrobes, held his arms behind his back as Saunders snapped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists and pushed him back into the room.
Ted, his arm around Celia, and Willy, his arm around Alvirah, were staggering into the room.
“Is anyone hurt?” Saunders asked.
It was Ted who answered. “No, I think we’re all okay.”
“I’m sorry it took us a few extra minutes to get here,” Saunders said. Turning to Alvirah he added, “When you phoned security, we mistakenly believed the robbery was taking place in your room. We went there first.”
“Sorry,” Alvirah said. “It’s an old habit to give my room number first when I’m calling.”
Willy helped Alvirah into a chair and then moved menacingly across the room at the intruder. “I don’t take kindly to anyone pointing a gun at my wife,” he said, as his hand shot forward.
The intruder braced himself for the expected blow from Willy’s huge fist. But Willy’s hand stopped short, grabbed hold of the intruder’s beard and gave it a hard yank. A yelp of pain followed as the beard was detached from his face.
After throwing the beard to the floor, Willy grabbed a handful of the intruder’s hair and pulled. The wig became detached. Everyone in the room stared at the face of the unmasked assailant.
Willy spoke first. “Well, if it isn’t the poor widower who came to scatter his wife’s ashes. You’re damn lucky I don’t scatter you over the Atlantic Ocean.”
It was Morrison’s turn next, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why, it’s Inspector Clouseau from Interpol. I knew you were useless. My Queen Charlotte has a lovely brig. You will be its first guest.”
96
For a moment there was dead silence as Morrison, Saunders and Captain Fairfax shoved Devon Michaelson out of the room. Then as Willy closed the door, Alvirah went to the closet and pulled out a Queen Charlotte bathrobe. “Celia, you’re freezing. Let’s wrap you in this.”
Celia let her arms be pushed into it, then felt the sash being tied around her waist. She realized that she must still be in some level of shock. The memory of trying to hold on to the railing with her foot as she felt herself going backwards kept replaying in her mind. It was all over, she had thought, before Ted’s arms grabbed hers and saved her from falling. She recalled the feeling of the cold wind against her face and arms, and the ominous sense that she was going to die. Trying to shake the memory, she looked from Alvirah to Willy to Ted.
“I can thank the three of you that I’m not in the ocean,” she said. “It’s only because of you that I’m not trying to swim to Southampton.”
“We’d never let that happen,” Alvirah said firmly. “And now we all better get back to bed.” She and Willy headed for the door.
Ted closed it behind them.
“This time I’m not taking no for an answer. And something else.” He put his arms around Celia. “Will you please tell me why you were trying to get your hands out of mine?” he asked.
“Because I didn’t want you to fall. I couldn’t let you fall. I put all of you in danger and—”
Ted stopped her with a kiss. “We’ll finish this conversation later. Now, let’s get you into bed. You’re still trembling.” He guided her into the bedroom, and after she lay down, he tucked the blankets over her.
“I’m pushing the easy chair against the door and sleeping in it until it’s time for us to leave. I don’t trust them to hold on to that guy until you’re off the ship.”
Celia realized how glad she was to not be alone. “No objection, Counselor,” she murmured as her eyes began to close.
97
Everyone except Willy was downstairs at 7:30 A.M. as the Queen Charlotte began to dock in Southampton. As the word spread through the ship that Devon Michaelson, “the grieving widower” as he had become known, was the killer, shock and surprise was the immediate reaction.
At Lady Em’s table Yvonne, Brenda and Professor Longworth stared at each other. “I thought it might be you,” Brenda blurted out to Longworth.
“I don’t think I’d be nearly strong enough to wrestle you into a closet,” Longworth shot back, his voice testy.
Yvonne was silent. Now that the true identity of Lady Em’s killer had been revealed, Roger would know that she had not suffocated Lady Em to save him. The ship that had rescued him would arrive in Southampton one day behind Queen Charlotte. If he tried to tell people that she had shoved him over the rail, she would say that he was traumatized after his ordeal. And if he got nasty, she would tell him that she would blow the whistle on his stealing from Lady Em.
Celia had come over and sat in the chair that had formerly been Devon Michaelson’s at the table with Anna DeMille, Ted and Alvirah. Anna was repeating over and over how she had refused the callous advances made on her by Devon Michaelson.
Devon hitting on her? Alvirah thought sympathetically. I’ll certainly keep in touch with the poor thing.
A few minutes later Willy arrived looking relieved. “Alvirah and I spoke to Ted before we came down to breakfast. Ted told us that the necklace is evidence in Lady Em’s murder and the attack on Brenda and that the necklace had to be turned over to the FBI. Boy, was I glad to hand it over to them.”
There was no lingering at the table. The good-byes had been spoken to newly made friends. The room began to empty when the departing passengers, as one, headed onto the main deck.
Their progress was briefly delayed as two Scotland Yard officials halted the exiting passengers. Through the windows they could see two men in FBI jackets, each holding one of Devon Michaelson’s arms, which were handcuffed behind his back. His legs were shackled. They were escorting the suspect down the ramp.
As soon as they had passed through customs, Brenda reached for her cell phone. Aware that it was four o’clock in the morning back in New York, she began to tap out a loving text. She signed it “Forever, your buttercup.”
Ted had hired a car to take him directly to the airport. He upgraded to an SUV and insisted that Alvirah and Willy and Celia ride with him. They were all sleepy, and there was little conversation on the two-hour trip. He had phoned ahead and booked a first-class reservation for Celia on his flight, in the seat next to him.
Alvirah and Willy were on the same flight in the economy section. “I would never spend the money for first class,” Alvirah said flatly. “The back of the plane gets there almost as fast as the front!”
“That’s news,” Willy muttered. He would have loved to stretch out in first class, but he knew it was hopeless to suggest it.
The plane had barely gone wheels up when all four of them fell asleep, Alvirah in the crook of Willy’s arm and Celia with her head nestled on Ted’s shoulder.
Somehow the thought of going back and facing further questioning from the FBI was not as scary as it had been only a few days ago. Ted had insisted that he reach out to her lawyer and offer his services and those of his investigators. “We are very good at what we do,” he had assured her. She knew that in the end everything would really be okay.
Epilogue
Three Months Later
Alvirah and Willy hosted a celebration dinner for Ted and Celia in their apartment on Central Park South. There was a storm outside and the park was covered with drifting snow. The horses and carriages were clip-clopping through it, and the familiar tinkle of their bells added a timeless sense of years gone by.
Inside, over cocktails, the four of them recalled their adventurous week on the Queen Charlotte. As promised, Anna DeMille had kept in close touch with Alvirah, saying that nothing could be more exciting than the cruise, even including “that thief making advances at me.”
“I still can’t get over the news about Devon Michaelson,” Alvirah said. Shortl
y after Michaelson’s arrest, Interpol had issued a statement: “Not now or at any time in the past did Interpol have an employee by that name on staff. He obviously presented falsified credentials. An investigation is being conducted to determine whether he had inside help at Castle Lines when he made arrangements to be on that voyage.”
“Heads will roll if that happened,” Willy said.
Celia had felt compelled to tell the FBI about Lady Em’s belief that Brenda had been stealing her jewelry. Part of her felt sorry for Brenda, but at the same time she believed it was wrong to let a thief go unpunished. But then Ralphie’s jeweler friend, the accomplice in switching Lady Em’s jewelry, had been arrested and charged in a similar scheme. In exchange for leniency he had quickly given up Ralphie, who in turn had told the FBI about Brenda’s role in stealing from Lady Em. Brenda had quickly agreed to a plea deal.
Ted’s investigators had succeeded in poking holes in Steven’s story that Celia had conspired with him from the beginning in the fund fraud. They had been able to prove that he had begun misappropriating money from client accounts two years before he even knew Celia. When the FBI met with her, their only interest in Celia was as a potential witness against Steven.
At the dinner Ted provided an update on a story they all had been following. It had been in the papers that Lady Em’s estate was set to undergo a thorough audit. Several former clients of Roger Pearson’s firm had come forward and expressed concern about “irregularities” in the work Roger had done for them. The lawyer Roger retained had put out a statement on his behalf. “Mr. Pearson suffered severe memory loss as a result of his horrific experience at sea and may not be in a position to adequately defend his past work.” In the picture, by his side, was his loving wife, Yvonne.
“Let’s forget about them,” Alvirah suggested, as she held up Champagne in a toast. “Celia, I love your engagement ring,” she said. “I’m so happy for both of you.”