Carefully Regan read the remaining articles. They were all similar to the first one. This wasn’t much help. Maybe the local paper, which Livingston had said should arrive tomorrow, might be more useful. Local papers tended to be chatty.
“Anything interesting?” Veronica asked. “I’m so sorry for that poor dear girl.”
“Nothing helpful. But I’ll be getting more faxes from Greece tomorrow.” Regan sighed as she put them away.
“All this talk about Greece. I forgot to tell you that Violet Cohn insisted to me that she had met Cameron Hardwick in Greece. Even though he denies it, she says he was a waiter there.”
“When was that, Veronica?”
“Eleven years ago.”
“MARIO AND I are having such a wonderful time,”
Immaculata pronounced as appetizers were being served. “Tonight at the midnight buffet they are going to unveil a big replica of the Statue of Liberty carved out of butter. We don’t want to miss it. To think that Mario’s parents and my grandparents all immigrated to America and Miss Liberty was there to welcome them. It gives me tingles. Mario, let’s not forget to bring the camera.”
“Uh-huh,” Mario grunted as he dug into his Alaskan crabmeat on toast.
Most people here look pretty content, Regan thought. Sylvie is smiling. Regan had seen her heading into the movie theater after lunch with Violet Cohn and her brother. Dale’s and Kenneth’s tans had grown deeper, thanks to an afternoon spent lounging by the pool in the sunny weather that was not typical of a North Atlantic crossing. Veronica had enjoyed the scarf-tying session and another round of bingo even though she didn’t win today. She had busied herself inviting all the staff members there to her party, including Lloyd, who had been busy counting the money. Gabby Gavin seemed a little preoccupied and edgy. They hadn’t seen much of him since that morning, but had waved to him across the room at bingo. And then, of course, there was Cameron Hardwick.
Sipping her Chardonnay, Regan asked,“What did you do today, Cameron?”
He shrugged. “I went down to the gym to lift weights and take a swim. I hate it when I don’t get enough exercise.” He broke a roll in half with his large, strong-looking hands.
You didn’t have to come on a cruise to lift weights, Regan thought. She watched Veronica put out her cigarette in the ashtray she shared with Mario. Suddenly she realized that she had never seen Hardwick smoke. Why would someone who professed to be health-conscious sit at a smoking table? For my taste, there’s too much that doesn’t make sense about that guy, Regan thought. As she glanced at the Rolex watch on his wrist she wondered if those hands had ever cleared plates from restaurant tables in Greece. It was hard to imagine him taking orders from anyone.
“Now, don’t forget, everyone, tomorrow night at five o’clock we’re having our cocktail party,” Veronica said eagerly. “We’ll have a couple of hours to socialize before dinner. I’m going to have everyone there write down their address and I’ll have the list Xeroxed on Friday so that we can all keep in touch.”
Regan noticed that only Mario and Immaculata seemed to think it was a wonderful idea. She had a vision of a succession of Christmas cards featuring Mario the Third and Concepcione standing before a fireplace, Christmas stockings dangling over their heads.
THURSDAY, JUNE 25
“REGAN, IT’S TIME to get up!” Veronica sang as she lifted Regan’s blanket and tickled her feet.
What did I do to deserve this? Regan wondered futilely as she struggled to open her eyes. No matter how hard she tried to become a morning person, Regan had never been able to turn herself into one of those early risers who bound out of bed with glee. I should get a job working the night shift somewhere, she thought.
“I’m so glad we didn’t stay in the casino for very long last night. Coming up here and reading in bed was such a joy, although I stayed up later than I wanted to with your mother’s book. You had already fallen asleep, Regan, and I had to force myself to turn out the light at one o’clock. I can’t wait to tell your mother that when I finally meet her.”
“Oh, that’s nice, Veronica. She’s always glad to hear people like her books.” Regan rolled over, pulled the covers around her and contemplated how wonderful it would be to sleep for another hour or two. “What time is it?”
“Seven-thirty. We have to go down, have breakfast and be at the beauty parlor by nine o’clock.”
“You’re not going to exercise class this morning?”
“No time. We’re having the works done today and then have to get ready for our soiree.”
Regan sat up on her elbows. “We?”
“Of course. I’ve signed us each up for a manicure, pedicure, anti-aging facial, massage, seaweed treatment, blow-dry and a makeup application.”
“Are you sure we’ll be out of there by the time we get to New York?” Regan asked as her feet hit the floor. But she admitted to herself that it certainly sounded better than going to any more financial or poetry seminars.
“Of course.” Veronica zestily flung open the sliding glass door to the terrace and breathed in the salt air. Regan decided that the cilia in Veronica’s nose got more of a workout than the bristles on an industrial-strength vacuum.
“They’ll serve us lunch there,” Veronica explained. “Unfortunately we’ll have to forgo any lectures today. I suppose it goes with the territory of being a charming, beautiful hostess.” Veronica walked out onto the deck singing, “What I did for love ...”
Regan stared out at her as she stretched her legs and arms. Veronica is generous, she thought. She doesn’t have to treat me to all that. It’s going to cost her a fortune. Regan walked into the bathroom and looked at her reflection, complete with two dark circles under her eyes. I guess the anti-aging facial isn’t coming a minute too soon.
“ARE YOU COMFORTABLE, Miss Reilly?” the young “aesthetician” with perfect skin and makeup asked Regan as she finished wrapping her body in a plastic film and thermal blankets.
About as comfortable as one can get with slimy smelly seaweed covering just about every inch of available skin, Regan thought. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“That’s good because anyone who gets claustrophobic can really get bothered by this.”
Now she tells me.
“But you’re going to feel sooo good when this is over. All the dead skin cells will be washed away and the toxins will be flushed out of your system.”
“That’s what a woman at my table told me.”
“Who’s that?”
“Immaculata Buttacavola.”
“Oh yes, she was in here the other day. Lovely woman. She enjoys talking about her family.”
“I know.”
“As a matter of fact, she’ll be back this afternoon to get her hair done. Said she’s going to some party tonight. I suppose that must be yours.”
“Yes.”
“Lovely,” she said in that soft whispery voice that beautifiers were trained to use in these darkened self-improvement tombs. “Relax. Enjoy. I’ll be right outside if you need me. In a half hour we’ll unwrap you and you’ll take a shower before the second part of the treatment.” She shut the door reverentially and Regan closed her eyes.
Minutes passed and Regan realized that she couldn’t relax. Thoughts of Athena and her family once again consumed her. Athena’s body found under a pile of leaves, still and lifeless. Penelope being poisoned. Questions about Cameron Hardwick. Regan squirmed as the blanket heated up and she realized how limited her ability for movement was. It paralleled the way she felt about her work on the case. Not much she could do in the middle of the ocean. She was stifled. Damn it! I’m wasting my time here, she thought as sweat seemed to ooze from every pore.
The body mask was becoming too warm. It made her feel wet and soggy. She tried to move her arms but they were pinned to her sides by the heavy blankets.
An instant of sheer blind panic seized Regan as she imagined Athena’s body rotting in the woods adjacent to Llewellyn Hall, covered by dank-smelli
ng muddy leaves.
“Miss. Misssss,” she called.
IT WAS 3 P.M. BY the time Regan and Veronica got back to the suite.
A coiffed, manicured, massaged, made-up Regan said, “Thank you, Veronica. After a bad start, that turned out to be really nice.”
“Ah well, a little primping is good for the soul, don’t you think? I’m sorry the seaweed wrap didn’t work for you, dear. When I was in it I just pretended it was Sir Gilbert holding me tight. Naturally I didn’t want it to end.” Veronica looked in the mirror over her dresser and fluffed her hair. “Have you ever been in love, Regan?”
“Once in the seventh grade.”
Veronica chuckled. “No, I mean really.”
“I’ve had a few false starts. Who knows?” Regan shrugged her shoulders and inspected her nails, now covered with a shade called ravishing red. Are these too bright? she wondered. Maybe I should have gone with perilous plum or sexy strawberry. Who sits around and thinks up those names?
“When you are,” Veronica continued, “it will change your life. You will just know it’s right. I suppose you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.”
“Well, I’ve kissed a lot of princes who’ve turned into frogs,” Regan muttered.
“Regan, I just hope you end up with someone like Sir Gilbert. I know I tend to go on a bit too much about him, but he was and always will be the love of my life.”
Regan sat down on the bed next to her. “It certainly seems like it.”
“Oh, dear, I was a bit spinsterish when I met him. And everyone thought I was crazy to spend so much time with a man so old. But he had such a young spirit. He made me feel so special and loved. Being in his presence was like coming home. Some people thought I was with him because of his money.” Veronica’s voice rose. “But it wasn’t true. He wanted to marry me quickly so that I’d be taken care of if anything happened to him. I thought it was too soon, but he insisted.” Veronica sighed. “Those two weeks were the best of my life. And I’ve never found anyone who could replace him. But”— Veronica jumped up—“that doesn’t mean I can’t keep trying, does it, Regan?” She clapped her hands. “We have got to get a party going here. The bartender and waiter will be arriving at four o’clock to set up, and we have to be ready by then. And I think it would be a jolly good idea to break out a bottle of champagne to drink while we’re getting dressed. What do you say, Regan?”
“Why not?”
“Indeed why not?” Veronica headed for the refrigerator. “After all, you only live once, right?”
“Right.”
“Oh, Regan, this is such good fun and we only have one full day left. I can’t help getting excited about meeting my niece and her children, but in a way I hate to see our journey end.”
AT FIVE O’CLOCK the Camelot Suite had the look of pre-party anticipation. Fresh flowers had been placed at strategic points around the room, a cheese board and crudites were set out on the cocktail table and the bartender was at his post cutting up lemons and limes. Out on the terrace the waiter was at a mini-oven organizing the trays of hot hors d’oeuvres. The late-afternoon sun was gleaming off the water as the Queen Guinevere moved majestically on its course to New York.
“We have enough food here for an army,” Regan commented as she helped herself to a carrot stick.
“Ah, well, it’s always better to have too much than not enough,” Veronica said airily.
So what was the problem at your party at Llewellyn Hall last week? Regan thought as there was a knock at the door. I bet it’s Robin Leach.
“Coming,” Veronica sang as she checked herself in the mirror one last time, strolled to the door and with a sweeping gesture opened it as if she were parting the Pearly Gates. Standing there was not their first guest but the gawky young steward, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“I have an envelope for Miss Reilly.”
“Thank you, my dear. Would you like to come in for a drink?”
“Sorry, ma’am, I would love to, but I’m on duty.”
“Well, if you get a break, do pop in. Who knows how long our party will last?”
“Splendid.”
Regan hurried down the steps and took the envelope from Veronica’s hands. “It must be the rest of the faxes from Greece. I’ll just take a quick look.” Standing in the foyer, with Veronica looking over her shoulder, Regan ripped it open and pulled out its contents. On the first page was a picture of Athena with her aunt, Helen’s three children, and their governess. The caption read, “Minutes before her death, Helen Carvelous posed on the beach at Skoulis for what was to be the last picture ever taken with her children.”
“Why, that’s Val.”
“What are you talking about, Veronica?”
“Next to the dark-haired girl.”
“Next to Athena?”
“Oh, that’s right. That is Athena. Poor girl. Well, that’s Val standing right next to her. I was going through one of Philip’s Saint Polycarp’s yearbooks from about ten years ago and came across her picture. It was the first year she taught there. She looked exactly like that.”
Regan felt adrenaline shoot through her body. Stay calm, she thought. Val had never admitted to knowing Athena.
“But Veronica, this is such a grainy picture. It’s been reproduced on fax paper. And back then, everyone wore their hair this way. Look, it identifies her as Mary V. Cook.” Is she thinking this way because she’s already had three glasses of champagne? Regan thought.
“Well then, she’s what you would call a dead ringer for her. And what does the V stand for?” Veronica added before she dismissed the subject and reached over to answer the second knock at the door. Cameron Hardwick filled the doorway.
“Hello, ladies.”
“Our first guest,” Veronica cried. “Do come in.”
“Hi, Cameron,” Regan said as she stuffed the faxes back into the envelope. Opening the top drawer of the dresser, she dropped it inside as she silently wished she had time to study it now. I won’t be able to get back to it until after dinner, she thought anxiously.
“Look, Regan, Cameron brought us a box of chocolates. Isn’t that thoughtful?”
“Oh yes, how nice,” Regan said as she remembered the last time a guy had presented her with chocolates. An old boyfriend from New York, he’d flown to Los Angeles for a business meeting. Only later did she learn that the chocolates were a giveaway to first-class passengers on Trans America Airlines.
Everyone knows there are people who recycle wedding gifts, Regan thought as she plucked what she hoped was a chocolate-covered caramel from the corner pocket of Cameron’s offering and popped it in her mouth. Why not chocolates? But as she chewed the creamy confection, a nervous pit grew in her stomach. Val and Cameron have both been placed in Greece and neither one of them has owned up to it. Why? But Veronica could be wrong. So could Violet. I’m going to have to find out what town Violet Cohn was in, Regan thought. And I can’t wait to call Livingston. Of course, even if Val and Cameron were both there, that still doesn’t mean they did anything wrong.
She looked out at the deck where the waiter was pulling a tray of hors d’oeuvres from the oven, then took a deep breath as she remembered that Val had also been at Llewellyn Hall when Penelope was poisoned.
“Boy, this place is swank,” Mario’s voice boomed as he and Immaculata caught their first glimpse of the Camelot Suite. “Honey, if we ever win the lottery, we’ll have to take another cruise and book this suite.”
“First we have to put some money away for the children’s educations, Mario. But then we could take the whole family away with us. Wouldn’t that be great?” Immaculata’s eyes sparkled at the prospect.
Regan joined them. “You could have the rest of the family stay in the suite across the hall, then you’d have the whole area to yourself. So how about that, Mario?”
Mario laughed as he put his arm around Immaculata. “Now don’t go giving my wife ideas. So there’s just one other suite up here,
huh?”
“Yes, and it’s empty for this crossing. We should have gotten the key and had a suite-to-suite party,” Regan said, trying to get into the mode of cocktail-party chatter. “Then Veronica could have invited everyone on board.”
“I think she already did,” Dale added from the doorway, a smiling Kenneth behind him. “There were a number of people waiting for the elevator.”
“I’ll get our drinks before the bar gets too crowded. What would you like, honey?” Mario asked Immaculata.
“Now let’s see,” Immaculata began, “I already had one of the special drinks of the day and that had rum in it. I don’t really feel like having a rum drink, but maybe I should since that’s what I started with and it’s not a good idea to mix. Oh, but look! They have champagne and—”
“Come with me to the bar while you make up your mind.” Mario turned to Regan and Dale. “Excuse us.”
“This place is unbelievable,” Dale said, looking around as Kenneth stepped over to the bar.
“Isn’t it?” Regan agreed as she took a sip of her champagne and noticed Hardwick slip out onto the terrace and stand at the railing, his back to the others.
“Regan, I love the way they did your hair,” Kenneth said as he handed Dale a Scotch. “A little too much spray, but they always seem to do that.”
“Kenneth and I can never leave our jobs at home.” Dale smiled. “While I’m checking out the furniture, he’s looking at people’s hair and thinking she could use a body wave, he could use a better color job ...”
“Or he could use hair, she could use a comb,” Kenneth chimed in. “Regan, we’ve set it up with Veronica to meet you up here Saturday morning at four A.M. We’re going to have champagne and I’m going to do a comb-out on Veronica’s hair. She wants to look great to meet her nieces. We want to be downstairs by five so that we can be on the deck when we sail into New York and past the Statue of Liberty.”
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