34 - The Queen's Jewels (27 page)

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Authors: Jessica Fletcher,Donald Bain

Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #Mystery Fiction, #Murder, #Women Novelists, #Media Tie-In, #Fletcher; Jessica (Fictitious Character)

BOOK: 34 - The Queen's Jewels
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Despite her professions of innocence, we all knew that Jennifer had been up to her neck in every aspect of the case, including the theft of the Heart of India, the murder of Walter Yang, and the break-ins of the three London shops that same week. She had used the term “murder” to me when discussing Kim Chin-Hwa’s death. She claimed to have heard that he “drowned,” but I believe she was simply trying to throw us off. Making the assumption that his death was a murder was a big misstep, taken long before the rumors had circulated widely as to the nature of his death. But I had the sinking feeling that while the others involved in the plot would be brought to justice, it was entirely possible that Jennifer Kahn would walk away a free woman.
In order to spare me, Michael, Dennis, and Uri from intrusion by curious fellow passengers, we were given a small private room in which to take our meals. When I walked in at eight that morning, I was surprised to see Rupesh there. He was dressed in a trimly tailored blue suit, white dress shirt, and muted red and blue tie.
“Good morning, Mrs. Fletcher,” he said, smiling broadly.
“Good morning to you,” I said, “and congratulations on your heroics last night. I remember now that your cousin Maniram said you taught karate, a useful skill to know.”
His smile widened even further as he said, “You can thank Agent Peretz for that.”
“Oh?” I said, taking my seat at the table. “Why?”
“He’s been my handler since I joined RAW.”
My face mirrored my confusion.
“RAW,” Uri said, “the Research and Analysis Wing of India’s government intelligence apparatus. It’s their lead agency, as good as they get. I’ve been Rupesh’s handler since he joined.”
“I received much of my training in Israel, including martial arts,” Rupesh said. “Mossad trains many of our agents, as does your CIA. In fact, RAW was patterned after the CIA.”
“And you are on the ship as an agent, not a cabin steward?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” he said. “We had received information through the Israelis that jewel thieves might be transporting their stolen goods by ship, and that proceeds were going to terrorist groups through intermediaries in New York. We’ve stationed agents on a number of ships, including this wonderful one.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know how effective an intelligence agent you are, Rupesh, but you certainly are a top-notch cabin steward.”
“I’m a fast learner,” he said.
“I’ll vouch for that,” Uri said in his characteristic low rumble of a voice.
I looked to Dennis, who sat back in his chair, hands folded on his lap, a Cheshire cat’s grin on his face.
“I can understand why you’re so contented this morning,” I said. “You’ve saved your insurance company a huge payout now that the Heart of India has been recovered.”
“True,” he said, “but there’s millions of diamonds from the store heists that are, as the mob likes to say, ‘sleeping with the fishes’ hundreds of feet below the Atlantic.”
“Well, at least you got back the big stone,” Haggerty said, “and you can thank Jessica for that.”
“Oh, I am well aware of that,” Stanton agreed, tossing me a salute.
Haggerty raised his glass of orange juice. “Here’s to you, Jessica,” he said.
The others joined him in the toast.
“What I find amazing,” Stanton said, “is that the young woman, Marcia, was walking around the ship, going to meals, and all the while she was carrying a diamond worth ten million dollars in her hollowed-out binoculars. Pretty gutsy.”
I said to Uri Peretz, “The night you followed Kiki on the ship, the night when she met someone on the deck in the storm, I was following
you
.”
Uri laughed. “You’re good at tailing people, Mrs. Fletcher.”
“It wasn’t difficult. I’m assuming that she met Richard Kensington that night and gave him the Heart of India. I spotted Marcia up there while the exchange took place. Leaving the gem in the cabin, even in a safe, would have made them nervous. Better to have it in the hands of an innocuous young woman. After all, she and Richard had been tapped to carry the diamond off the ship because they would likely be beyond suspicion by authorities. Might as well also take advantage of that while the ship was at sea.”
Following breakfast, Haggerty asked what my plans were for the rest of the day.
“To relax,” I replied, “a facial and massage in the Canyon Ranch Spa, a walk on the deck now that the weather has cleared, certainly a nap, and finish a book I’d started before we left Southampton.” I was about to get up but remembered the two notes having to do with “curiosity” that had been delivered to me. I pulled them from my purse. “I suppose I can toss these away,” I said.
“What are they?” Stanton asked.
“Two notes I received. Probably from an Irish fan of mine having fun.”
Haggerty reached for them. “Give them to me,” he said.
“Why?” I asked, handing them over. “Because they’re yours?”
He looked chagrined. “How did you know?”
“When we talked in your cabin, you tossed your cummerbund over some papers. I lifted it to see what you were concealing. There was an envelope, which had been typed with the same machine. Why did you do it?”
“Oh, just to keep you intrigued and working with me. I thought that if you were receiving strange notes, your interest would be piqued.” He laughed and tore them in half.
“You devil,” I said.
“Looks like it worked,” he said. “You didn’t lose interest for a minute.”
I was tempted to throw the rest of my English muffin at him but thought better of it.
“No harm done,” he said. “Now that you’ve solved that puzzle, what else is on tap for you today?”
There was no sense in being angry at Michael. It wouldn’t have accomplished anything. I said, “I want to swing by the Princess Grill to see if Harry Flynn is still at breakfast. He must be wondering why all his tablemates have abandoned him. I haven’t seen him since we had a drink together before dinner last night, and he wasn’t at my lecture.”
“He’s an active guy,” Stanton said. “Keeps him young, I suspect.”
“And I suspect you’re right. I’ll catch up with all of you later.” I turned to Rupesh. “Have you called your mother?”
He laughed heartily and assured me that he had.
Haggerty walked me from the room.
“I have a question for you,” I said.
“Which is?”
“It’s about Uri. I somehow don’t see him as an intelligence agent. He’s—well, he’s so big, so visible.”
“He’s out of his element in this case, Jessica. He’s usually behind a desk back in Israel sifting through intelligence. He’s brilliant at it. But since he’s Rupesh’s handler, they wanted him on the scene.” Haggerty laughed. “He admitted to me that he searched my cabin.”
“Why?”
“To see whether I’d come across anything that he didn’t have. Happens all the time. We trust each other but only to a degree.”
“You operate in a strange world, Michael.”
“And it gets stranger all the time.”
He kissed my cheek, and I headed for the Princess Grill. Harry wasn’t there, nor had he shown up for breakfast, according to our waiter. I was worried about him, and went to his cabin. My knocks on his door went unanswered.
I returned to my stateroom, where I placed a call to George Sutherland’s cell phone.
“Jessica!” he said. “You did it again.”
“I did?”
“Don’t be modest now, lass. I’ve been briefed on everything that’s occurred on the ship. You’ve broken the Heart of India case wide open.”
“With plenty of help, George. Where are you?”
“In New York.”
“You
are
? Why?”
“To help facilitate extradition proceedings. We want to take into custody the suspects you’re holding. I’ll be waiting at the pier when you arrive.”
Knowing that I’d be seeing him again in less than a day did what no nap would. My spirits were already elevated because of what had transpired the night before, and the contemplation raised them even further. “I can’t wait to see you,” I said.
“I’m eager to see you, too, lass,” he said. “Stay out of trouble for the duration of the crossing. No more murders.”
“That’s a promise,” I said lightly, and we ended our conversation.
I walked out on my balcony, stretched out my arms, and took a deep breath of the briny air. I felt as though a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how tense the previous days had been. With all the “bad guys” stashed away, I saw things in a totally different light. Life was good again.
The sound of someone knocking drew me inside again. I opened the door to find a crew member from the purser’s office holding an envelope. I’d meant to stop by to thank the staff captain and his staff. My ruse at the lecture would never have been possible without his cooperation. The crewman handed me a fat manila envelope with my name handwritten on it.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Another passenger left it for you with instructions that it was to be delivered to you personally.”
“Who left it?” I asked.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know,” he replied.
I thanked him, carried the package back out on the balcony, and opened it. Inside were two envelopes, one addressed to me and the other to a name I wasn’t familiar with. I opened mine to find a note and a sheaf of hundred-dollars bills, lots of them. I fanned them out; there had to be at least forty. I dropped them on the glass-topped table and unfolded the note. The handwriting was precise and legible, almost printed. I started to read:
My dear Jessica Fletcher,
When you read this, I will have done something of which you might disapprove. In fact, many will disapprove. But I have a suspicion that you’ll understand, if only because you are such an understanding and nonjudgmental person. You see, I haven’t been completely honest with you. Despite my outward appearance of a hale and hearty fellow in the pink of health, you’ve been spending time with a dying man. The doctors told me that I had, at the most, only a few more months to live. Cancer, of course. Bad cancer.
I knew I’d have to end my final days in a hospital or hospice, but I couldn’t put my daughter through that, and frankly, I didn’t much like the idea for myself either. I admit to being a bit of a coward when it comes to death. I’m also the sort of man who abhors being a burden. No, Jessica, I decided that I would leave this world on my own terms and under conditions palatable to me.
I’ve spent almost my entire life on the sea. The oceans of the world have nourished my soul and inspired my visions. There is no place I would rather be than on the water, looking up into God’s heavens, breathing in the salt air and marveling at this world in which we live. My life has been rich, Jessica, rich beyond what any man should expect. I’ve spoken to you about my daughter, Melanie, the apple of my eye as the saying goes. She’s a bright, caring person who has put up with her seafaring father for all of her life. That she’s turned out as wonderfully as she has is a tribute to her mother, although I’ll take a modicum of credit simply for having been there at the beginning. I would not want her to see her father wasting away in some medical facility, although as a nurse she spends her days in just such places.
And so, Jessica Fletcher, I’ve elected to join all those men and women whose lives have ended beneath the oceans of the world. It’s where I prefer to be, considering the circumstances. I have regrets, of course. I would like to have learned how all the intrigue turned out. Having had the privilege of spending my final week on earth with you was a delightful and totally unexpected treat. My passage on the
Queen Mary 2
was to provide one last moment of luxury and sheer pleasure, which it was. Having you as a sailing companion was icing on my cake, as it were.
I now ask a very large favor of you. I have enclosed with this note the winnings from my sojourns to the ship’s craps table. I would like Melanie to have it. Would you be so kind as to deliver it to her? I realize that this is an imposition, but I somehow feel that you won’t take it that way. You have my eternal gratitude for doing this for me.
I must now admit to having had a fleeting yen for some hanky-panky with you, Jessica. Do you know the origin of the term “hanky-panky”? Years ago it was the name given to a concoction of brandy and ginger. After consuming one too many, certain men would make amorous advances to the nearest woman, thus said to be engaging in hanky-panky. I hope I haven’t bored you with my trivia, dear lady.
May you have warm words on a cold evening,
A full moon on a dark night,
And the road downhill all the way to your door.
Your friend,
Harry Flynn
Chapter Twenty-six
I
sat on the balcony and cried until my tear reservoir was empty. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, so many questions to ask. I’d loved the pride he took in knowing the origins of sayings and expressions, and his joie de vivre. Could his love of life ever be reconciled with his decision to end it? Of course it could, I decided. He was a man who believed in living his life on his terms and schedule. And he was right about me. I would not be judgmental.
I stood at my balcony’s railing and peered into the Atlantic’s blue, sometimes aqua water, depending upon how the light hit it. Harry Flynn had decided to go “home” to a final resting place beneath the ocean he loved. “Sleep well,” I said, a gust of wind capturing my words and blowing them out to sea, perhaps to where he could hear them. And then I added, “And enjoy the diamonds, Harry. They’re yours now.”
I gathered the money, Harry’s note to me, and the envelope addressed to his daughter and went to the staff captain’s office, where I found him busy with paperwork.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, “but there’s something you should know about one of your passengers.” I handed him the note written to me and waited while he read.

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