Jennifer laughed. “The best kind of assistant, strong and silent,” she said. “Yes, I’d enjoy a walk. What about you, Jessica?”
“I think I’ll linger here a few more minutes and finish my coffee,” I said. “You go ahead. I’ll look for you in a little while.”
Stanton tossed me a surreptitious wink as he held out Jennifer’s chair and took her arm.
I poured myself a second cup, musing on Haggerty’s upcoming interview. Interesting, I thought, how investigating a murder in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean differed from procedure on land, where the police would take the lead. There was no police force at sea, no detectives, no forensic technicians, no district attorney to help develop a case. The ship’s sixteen-person security force was obviously top-notch when it came to securing the passengers’ safety and well-being, but they lacked experience, as well as jurisdiction, when it came to murder. They certainly wanted to identify Kim’s killer, if only to ensure that he or she wasn’t still at large and posing a threat to other passengers. I knew that every ocean liner had a brig in which to incarcerate criminals or troublemakers. But the responsibility to question suspects had fallen to Michael Haggerty based upon his credentials as an MI6 intelligence agent. Whether
he
was up to the task was conjecture at best.
The salty air was delightfully refreshing as I stepped out onto the promenade and zipped up my jacket. The splendid weather had lured hundreds of other passengers outdoors, too, walking, jogging, leaning on railings in search of whales or dolphins, or lounging in deck chairs and soaking up the sun. Finding Jennifer Kahn and Dennis Stanton in the crowd would be a challenge, but surprisingly, I ran into Marcia Kensington.
“Good morning,” I said, waving as she walked toward me.
Her face reflected her inner debate whether to keep going or stop to talk with me. She opted for the latter, although she was clearly reluctant.
“I want to apologize for the way Richard acted the other night,” she said.
“You don’t need to apologize,” I said.
“Yes, I do. Richard can be—well, he can be difficult at times.”
“He did seem angry that you were speaking with me. I was a bit taken aback when he warned me to mind my own business. All we were doing was having a conversation.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m sure he’s sorry he spoke so rudely.”
“Yes, I’m sure he is, too.” I pointed to the large pair of binoculars hanging from a strap around her neck. “Whale watching again?” I said.
She looked down at the binoculars and nodded. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”
“I hope you do. I’m glad to see you in a happier mood. Maybe we’ll have time to chat again before we reach New York.”
She walked away, looking back at me a few times, a pained smile on her pretty face. Was Richard Kensington on board because of the Heart of India? Was he on the
Queen Mary 2
in some official capacity for the insurance company, working undercover the way Dennis Stanton was? Was that why he had Marcia lie about being on their honeymoon? And why he’d gotten so angry when he thought she’d broken their cover?
I had so many questions, so few answers.
The interview with Kim’s two bodyguards was conducted in the wardroom. I joined Haggerty and Uri Peretz at the table as the first one was brought in. He wasn’t very talkative, claiming limited understanding of the language, when I knew from Harry Flynn having overheard the two bodyguards that they both spoke English very well. His responses to Haggerty’s questions were more grunts than words, although I had the feeling that his performance was just that, a performance. It was effective, however, and after a frustrating half hour he was dismissed with the admonition that he was likely to be questioned again.
His colleague, equally large in stature, was a different matter. Unlike his predecessor, of whose testimony he was unaware, this man was neither arrogant nor evasive. In fact, he seemed anxious to respond to Haggerty’s questions.
“Do you have any idea why your boss went up alone to Deck Thirteen?” he was asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “Kim and Betty had been fighting. He said he was going to get some air and cool off.”
“What was the fight about?” Uri asked. That the bearish Israeli intelligence agent was there surprised me, although I assumed that Haggerty wanted another presence to add weight to the interrogation; in Uri’s case, “weight” could be taken literally.
“I really don’t know,” the bodyguard said.
“You never overhead anything they said?”
He shook his head. “It was more attitude than anything else. They used to be fine together. It was just bad in the past week or so. They barely talked after the first night on the ship unless it was an argument, but it was over stupid stuff, like where he put something or why she kept him waiting.”
“How long had you worked for Mr. Kim?”
“Two years.”
“Did you know his partner, Walter Yang?”
“Of course.”
“Did your boss get along with his partner, Yang?”
“Sort of.”
“‘Sort of ’?”
“They seemed to get along okay. I wasn’t with them much when they had meetings.”
“What about Mr. Yang’s security people? Do you know them personally?”
“A couple of them.”
“I understand that you or your colleague didn’t especially like your boss.”
“Why do you say that?”
“We’ve been told that one of you said you wished him dead.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It comes from a good source.”
It was true. Harry Flynn was not the sort of man who would fabricate such a thing.
The questioning continued for another half hour with little useful information elicited, at least from my perspective. Haggerty asked Uri what he thought.
The big Israeli shrugged. “They both fell down on the job of protecting the victim,” he said. “Did one of them kill him? Possible.”
“What do you think, Jessica?” Haggerty asked.
“At least they confirmed that Kim and Betty LeClair weren’t getting along. I did find it interesting that the problems between them didn’t start until last week, around the time that Yang was killed and the diamond stolen. Was that what they fought about?”
“Maybe we should ask Betty,” Haggerty suggested as we left the room.
“I will,” I said. “I’d planned to swing by her new cabin anyway. I’ll raise it with her. By the way, I received another note about curiosity, this one a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt.”
“Did you? Probably some fan of yours having fun.”
“Well, it’s not my idea of fun.”
“Mrs. Fletcher?” It was Uri.
“Yes?”
“I didn’t want you here, but thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome, but why didn’t you want me here?”
“Haggerty and I are professionals. You’re not.”
I started to respond, but he held up a thick finger to silence me.
“As long as you’re involved,” he said, “please watch your step. Whoever killed Kim won’t hesitate to kill again.”
Chapter Twenty-three
R
upesh was carrying a tray down the hallway when I knocked on Betty’s door and received no response. “She isn’t there, Mrs. Fletcher. She left fifteen minutes ago.”
“I thought she was supposed to remain confined to her stateroom for the duration of the crossing,” I said. Haggerty had suggested she stay in her room. Perhaps he wasn’t forceful enough. She hadn’t been expressly forbidden from leaving.
“She left with another woman,” Rupesh said, setting down the tray.
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know. She knocked and went inside. They left together a few minutes later.”
“Can you describe her?”
He looked at me quizzically, as though questioning why I should want him to do that. “She is—how can I say it?—I have seen her on the ship. She is about my height but bigger.” He pulled his arms apart to show her width. “She keeps her hair very short, and wears black, all black. She looks like—well, should I say it?—she looks maybe a little bit like a man.”
Kiki Largent.
“Thank you, Rupesh.”
Betty went off with Kiki Largent?
I called Haggerty’s cabin and told him what I’d learned from Rupesh. “It has to be Kiki Largent,” I said, “based upon his description of her.”
“Where did they go?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Where’s Jennifer Kahn?”
“I don’t know that either, Michael. She left after breakfast with Dennis. They were going to take a walk on Deck Seven.”
“I’ll meet you there at the Outdoor Promenade, the one off Stairway B.”
“I doubt Jennifer and Dennis are still there,” I said, consulting my watch. “And I don’t know if that’s where Betty went with Kiki. It’s a big ship, Michael.”
“We’ll check anyway.”
I tried to process the potential meaning of Betty having gone off with Kiki. As far as I knew, they were strangers before having met on the ship. Unless, of course, they’d forged a relationship revolving around the jewelry theft. There could be no other explanation.
“Have you seen them?” Michael asked when he arrived at the promenade.
“No. I just got here.”
We headed toward the bow, which had us bucking the tide of passengers getting their exercise and otherwise enjoying the lovely weather. A few people stopped me to chat about my lectures and books, and I as politely as possible kept our interactions brief, motivated in part by the frustrated expression on Haggerty’s face. We passed Kings Court and the Winter Garden, one of many bars and lounges, and paused outside the Canyon Ranch Spa, where I’d intended to indulge myself with an afternoon of treatments, another best-laid plan unfulfilled.
I was about to suggest that we head in the other direction when I caught sight of Betty out of the corner of my eye. She leaned on the railing looking out over the ocean, while Kiki, who stood at her side, appeared to be berating her. One thing was certain: Whatever Kiki was saying wasn’t pleasant.
“Should we barge in?” Haggerty asked.
“I don’t think so,” I said, drawing him behind a jog in the ship’s structure. “Better for her not to be aware that we know she left her stateroom. She might become even more evasive.”
“You’re right.”
I pulled up the hood on my jacket, and Michael turned up his collar, both of us angled slightly away from the pair as we continued to watch them. With so many people on deck, it was not difficult to fade into the crowd. A few minutes later, Kiki stomped away and walked past without noticing us. Betty continued to hug the railing, her attention set on some faraway place. Eventually she left the rail and disappeared through a door.
“What do you make of it?” Haggerty asked as we retraced our steps to where we’d exited to Deck Seven.
I’d been pondering the answer from the moment we saw them together. “I think we’re in the midst of a cabal,” I said, “a den of thieves—Kim, Betty, Kiki Largent, and undoubtedly Jennifer Kahn. The bigger question is how to prove their connection in some tangible way.”
“And you have an idea how to do that?”
“I’m beginning to develop one, Michael. Let’s find a quiet place for a cup of tea and I’ll lay it out for you.”
Haggerty and I sat for almost an hour as I sketched out the conclusions to which I’d come, and some tentative ideas about how to proceed. When I was finished, he said, “The problem is, Jessica, we’re under considerable pressure to wrap this up prior to reaching New York. Stanton said if he doesn’t locate the gem before we dock, it’ll disappear in a city of eight million, never to be found again. Plus, it’ll be a lot harder to round up everyone for more questions once they’ve scattered. We’ve got the rest of today and tomorrow, and two more nights at sea.”
“And I have a lecture to deliver this evening.”
“Tonight?”
“They don’t usually schedule lectures at night, but my previous programs have drawn big crowds. They feel it would be a fitting end to the crossing, at least from an entertainment perspective. But I’ll never make it without a nap.”
Agreeing to touch base later, we parted, Haggerty to a meeting with the staff captain and I to Betty’s suite again. This time she answered my knock and invited me in.
“Have a good morning?” I asked.
“Yes. You?”
“Very nice. The weather is beautiful.”
“So I see, although I don’t have much of a chance to enjoy it.”
“You should get out on deck,” I said. “No reason why you can’t.”
“I thought I was supposed to stay in the cabin,” she said.
“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you sneaked out for an hour as long as you’re comfortable doing it. Your safety is the main consideration. There’s still a murderer somewhere out there.”
“You don’t have to remind me,” she said, shuddering.
“Betty, what were you and Kim fighting about?”
“Fighting? We weren’t fighting.”
“Several people have remarked on it. And even I saw you leave your cabin so furious you didn’t even acknowledge me.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry if I was rude.”
“I wasn’t looking for an apology. What made you so angry with Kim?”
“It wasn’t anything important,” she said, going to the mirror to check her appearance. She picked up her hair-brush, slapped her palm with the back of it, then put it down. She looked at me in the mirror. “You know men, Jessica. They can be so bossy.”
I didn’t say anything, waiting for her to continue.
She turned to face me, her eyes stormy now, a frown creasing her brow. “He was a real chauvinist, you know, always telling me what to wear and when to talk and not to talk. ‘Keep quiet, unless I tell you to speak.’ No one’s going to tell me to keep quiet. I didn’t come on this trip to be arm candy. If I have things to say, I’ll say them.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I’d just had it up to here, that’s all.” She raised a hand to her chin. “Anyway, you can see it was nothing really important. My feelings were hurt. But now that he’s gone, I wish I had been nicer to him. I really did love him, and I know he was devoted to me.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and stole another look at herself in the mirror.