34 - The Queen's Jewels (17 page)

“That means she’s probably Jennifer’s bodyguard, too,” I said. “If I were you, I would step carefully around that one.”

“I’ve got a pretty good uppercut, but I’ve never used it on a woman.”

“Let’s hope you never have to.”

With that last bit of scuttlebutt in mind—I thought of Harry Flynn and wondered how he’d done in the casino—I made my way back to Deck Eleven and my stateroom. When I turned the corner from the elevator lobby, I saw a pair of uniformed crew members standing in front of Kim’s open door. As I passed by, I paused and peered between them. One of them politely asked me to move on, but just then my steward, Rupesh, emerged from the cabin, followed by another crewman. Although I couldn’t be sure, it appeared to me as though he was being escorted from the room.

“Good evening, Rupesh,” I said. “Is everything all right?”

He looked at me, said nothing, his face devoid of expression, and walked away swiftly, preceded and followed by members of the
QM2
staff.

“What’s going on?” I asked the remaining crewman as he closed the door and took up his position in front of it.

He nodded curtly.

“Is something wrong in Mr. Kim’s cabin?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Why was my cabin steward being led away?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am.”

“Has something happened to Mr. Kim or his companion?”

“There’s been an accident, ma’am. That’s all I know.”

M
y mind was bombarded with conflicting, confusing thoughts as I entered my cabin. An accident? Who’d been hurt? Had Rupesh suffered some sort of injury? He looked healthy enough to me, albeit grim-faced. The more I thought about it, the more it became clear that he’d been escorted from Kim’s stateroom by uniformed staff the way criminals are led from a scene, although I hadn’t seen any handcuffs. What had he done, or what was he accused of doing?

I thought back to seeing Betty in tears, and Rupesh telling me that something, or someone, was missing from her cabin. What was that all about? It seemed I was missing too many pieces to fit the clues together.

I opened my door a few times and saw that the crew member was still standing guard outside Kim’s stateroom. I smiled at him each time but received only a blank stare in return.

I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. A movie that held no interest for me was playing. Other channels didn’t offer a respite from my cluttered mind, nor did sitting on the balcony. Rupesh had already prepared the room for the night, turning down the bedspread and placing a small square of chocolate on my pillow. He had also carefully hung my robe on a hook in the bathroom. I debated changing into my nightclothes, and decided against it. I’d been tired before, but I was now wide-awake.

I ended up pacing the room, going from the door to the balcony and back again, over and over, until I decided that I simply could not stay there any longer. I hung up my long gown, changed into a more comfortable pair of mauve slacks, simple white shirt, and sandals, grabbed my purse from where I’d dropped it on the bed, and stepped into the hallway. Another stern look from the uniform in front of Kim’s door said loud and clear that to ask questions would be futile.

I set off without a destination in mind. I suppose I was hoping to run into Haggerty, or Stanton, but I didn’t count on it.

Harry Flynn. Would he still be in the casino?

He was, standing at the craps table surrounded by a half dozen other players. From the pile of chips in front of him, I concluded he was having another good night. He spotted me and waved me to his side. “Now,” he said into my ear, “I’ll really get on a roll.”

I stood next to Harry while he continued to throw the dice. Each time he did, a whoop and a holler came from others at the table. My knowledge of how craps is played is sketchy at best, but even to a novice like me it was plain that each time he rolled, the numbers on the two dice combined to match numbers on the table on which chips were piled. And each time a cheer went up, the crew chief, a tuxedoed lady flanked by two others, stacked chips in the front of the winners.

It took another three rolls before there was a collective groan, followed by applause and shouts of “Nice roll, man,” and “Way to go.”

Harry bade everyone farewell, tossed a handful of chips on the table as a tip for the crew, took my elbow, and headed for the cashier, where he deposited his large stack of chips. The cashier counted out bills in return: twelve hundred dollars.

“You did really well tonight,” I said.

“Lady Luck was by my side in the person of Jessica Fletcher,” he said. “What brings you to the casino?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Something bothering you?”

“Actually—have you heard anything about an accident on board?”

“No. An accident with the ship?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s find a quiet place to talk,” he said.

We went up one deck to the Chart Room, where we found a table for two far from the jazz trio that was into its last set of the evening.

“Tell me more about this accident,” he said as a waitress approached. He ordered rum, neat. I asked for a cup of chamomile tea.

“I don’t know any more.” I was filling him in on what I’d seen—Rupesh being taken away, the guard at Kim’s door—when two couples approached us.

“Jessica Fletcher,” one of the women said, “I’ve been dying to tell you in person how much we love your lectures, and your books, of course.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you—”

“Your talks lift the spirits,” one of the men said, interrupting me. “Good thing, too, after what’s happened tonight.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” I said.

The other woman leaned close and said in a low voice, “We thought you would surely know. They say he was murdered.”

“Who was murdered?” I asked.

“We don’t know,” her husband said. “Other people we were with said that one of the bartenders told them a body was found.”

“Are you sure it was murder?” Harry asked.

The second woman shrugged. “We only know what we were told. We’ll probably learn a lot more in the morning. You know how rumors fly around a ship. Well, thanks again. We love your books and we can’t wait for your next lecture. Maybe you’ll be able to tell us about a real live murder then.”

“I wonder if they’ll mention it in the
Daily Programme
,” I heard her friend say as they moved off.

“Kim,” I said absently after they’d gone.

“Pardon?”

“Mr. Kim. I’m afraid he may be the victim.”

“Now, now, Jessica, this is all just a rumor.”

“I know,” I said, “but it adds up to me. I wonder if there’s someone I can speak with about it, someone in an official capacity.”

“They’re likely to be pretty tight-lipped, if I know the rules of the sea,” Harry said.

Harry’s drink and my tea were delivered. “Ah,” Harry said, “just what the doctor ordered, a taste of Nelson’s blood.” He took a long sip and coughed.

“Nelson’s blood?”

He cleared his throat. “When Admiral Lord Nelson died in the Battle of Trafalgar, the crew preserved his body in a keg of rum for the long trip back to England. You don’t hear the term used anymore, not with today’s younger sailors. But, of course, I’m not one of those younger types.”

I sat silently, my mind racing.

“Sorry if my injecting trivia into the serious topic of murder offended you,” he said.

“Oh, no, that’s all right,” I said, absently stirring my tea to cool it. “I wonder if the staff captain would be forthcoming with me if I tell him that I’m a friend of the family. Rupesh, my cabin steward, has cousins in Cabot Cove.”

“Worth a try, I suppose. I’ll come with you.”

“No need to do that, Harry.”

“Nonsense.” He finished his rum, waved over the waitress, signed the tab with his room number, and we left the Chart Room and headed down to the purser’s office. I had no idea where the staff officer’s base of operation was, but hoped that the purser would be able, and willing, to tell me.

There was no one in line that time of night, and a lovely young lady greeted me by name and asked if she could help me.

“I hope so,” I said. “The cousin of very dear friends of mine back home—that’s Cabot Cove, Maine—is my cabin steward. I’m afraid something might have happened to him and I’d like to speak to the staff captain about it.”

She pondered the request for a moment before saying, “I don’t believe it’s a matter for the staff captain, Mrs. Fletcher. Perhaps the hotel manager, or someone in human resources, can help you tomorrow.”

“Probably so,” I said, “but the staff captain had been very gracious when we met. I really would prefer a word with
him
. I won’t take up too much of his time.”

“Let me see if I can raise him,” she said, disappearing into an area out of my view.

Harry, who stood with me, asked quietly, “Why him specifically?”

I responded in an equally low voice. “I have a suspicion that my cabin steward’s troubles are more of a criminal nature, and it’s the staff captain who oversees the security force on board. When a crime occurs at sea, they act as a police force until reaching port.”

Harry didn’t respond. As a former seaman, a captain, himself, he’d likely known the answer, but I could see that he was mulling over what I’d said.

The crew member returned and said, “He’s tied up right now, but said he’d be happy to meet with you in a half hour in the officers’ wardroom.” She gave me directions, and Harry and I went to find it. When we reached the wardroom, a crew member asked us to wait in a small anteroom until the staff captain was available. “He’s in a meeting at the moment,” the young officer said in a clipped British accent.

We took chairs and waited in silence until Harry said, “Perhaps I should leave. He might not appreciate two people taking up his valuable time, double-teaming him, so to speak.”

“I don’t think that would be a problem, but it’s late, I know. You probably want to get back to your cabin. I don’t mind waiting alone.”

“No, no. I just thought you might want to do this by yourself. I’m happy to stay. Kind of curious to know what’s happened.”

“And I’m happy for the company, but I have to tell you I’m not certain he’ll talk to me at all. We may be on a fool’s errand.”

Twenty minutes later, a female officer in her sparkling white uniform came from the wardroom. “The staff captain is still occupied,” she said, and left the area.

A minute later, the door opened wide. I expected to see the staff captain emerge.

It wasn’t the staff captain.

It was Michael Haggerty!

“
H
ello, Wendell,” Harry Flynn said cheerily. “What are you doing here?”

An officer tapped Haggerty on the shoulder. “Michael, we need to see you again.”

“Give me a minute,” Haggerty replied.

“Michael?” Harry said.

Haggerty’s raised hand put a stop to the words. He used his index finger to motion for me to follow him from the area.

“Maybe I should leave,” Harry said.

“You don’t have to,” I said. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

I followed Haggerty to the empty hallway leading to the officers’ wardroom.

“What’s going on?” I asked in a whisper.

“I don’t have time to go into every aspect of it, Jessica, but there’s been a murder.”

“Kim Chin-Hwa.”

“Why do you say that?”

“News of a dead body being found is already making the rounds of the ship, Michael. Passengers are talking about it. There’s a guard outside Kim’s stateroom, and my cabin steward was led away by security. It
was
Kim Chin-Hwa, wasn’t it?”

He nodded.

“But why are
you
involved? Does the staff captain know your true identity?”

“Yes. The top officers know why I’m on board. I’ll be lending a hand in the investigation, with their full backing, of course. What’s important is that the investigation be done quietly, no fanfare. The ship’s crew doesn’t want this to impact other passengers. Their first obligation is to them, and they’re deadly serious about it.”

“How was Kim killed?”

“Look, I need to go back inside. Give me thirty minutes, an hour tops, and I’ll come to your stateroom.”

“No, better I come to yours. There’s too much activity on my deck.”

He agreed and gave me his cabin number.

I returned to the anteroom to find Harry had gone. I couldn’t blame him. He’d sensed that something strange was underfoot and he evidently didn’t want to get in the way.

But get in the way of
what
?

I didn’t have any role in the investigation that would ensue, at least not an official one. Haggerty obviously felt it appropriate to clue me in on what was occurring, and I appreciated that. As much as I never intended to become involved in jewelry thefts, murder, and terrorist funding, the unfortunate fact was that I’d ended up smack-dab in the middle of it, which generated not only apprehension but also a parallel rush of adrenaline.

Was it too late to call Dennis Stanton on the chance that he had information about Kim’s murder? He certainly would be vitally interested in it. Kim was his chief suspect in the theft of the Heart of India, and his murder would necessitate a shift in the direction of Dennis’s inquiry.

I had a little time to kill before meeting with Haggerty. I considered going to my cabin, but by the time I got there, I’d have to leave again. I was, of course, concerned about Rupesh and had hoped to learn something about him from the staff captain. But that hadn’t happened, and I felt it would be inappropriate to continue to pursue the busy officer. He obviously had enough on his hands at that moment.