Echoes of Titanic (9 page)

Fortunately, it was. From a discreet vantage point on the opposite side of the street, she could see through the tall front windows of the lobby that the only person in there at the moment was Ephraim, sitting at reception. Moving quickly, she crossed at the corner and then sprinted to the front door. It was locked, but as soon as he spotted her, he buzzed her in.

“Thanks, Ephraim,” she replied, stepping inside and pulling the door firmly shut behind her. “What are you doing here this late? Don't you guys usually knock off around six?”

“Yeah. Not tonight, though. After all the mess this afternoon, I thought I'd stick around a little longer, just to be safe.”

“Well, I'm glad you're here—and happy to see that the crowds are gone.”

“Been this way for 'bout an hour now,” Ephraim replied. “Some of those people were pretty persistent, but Mr. Hallerman got 'em all out of here eventually, thank goodness.”

“Is he still around?” Kelsey asked and was relieved when Ephraim said no, that Walter had gone back upstairs for a few minutes once everyone else was gone, and then he'd come back down and left for the night.

“Looked bone tired to me,” he added.

“I know the feeling. How about Gloria Poole? Have you seen her tonight at all?”

Ephraim said no, that he hadn't seen Mrs. Poole coming or going this afternoon or this evening. “'Course, there was an awful lot of confusion here, as you know. There's a chance she came through and I just didn't notice. That's what I told her husband, anyway.”

“Vern? Was he here?”

“Yeah, 'bout an hour ago. He said she called and asked him to come to her office, so he did, right from work. But then once he got here and I let him up, he couldn't find her. By the time he left, he seemed pretty mad.”

“I can see why. Actually, she called me too. I'll see if
I
can find her.” Kelsey couldn't imagine where on earth Gloria could have gone. “You haven't seen her on the security cameras anywhere? Not even on the ones for the fifth floor?”

Ephraim shook his head. “The only security camera on fifth shows the elevator landing and the reception area, that's it, and I definitely haven't seen her come walking through there.”

“Well, if by some chance she calls or comes down here, tell her I'm looking for her, would you?”

“Will do. Holler if you need me.”

Kelsey thanked him and went around the corner to the elevators. Thinking she might as well start by checking Gloria's office first, she pressed the button for the fifth floor. Once there, she stepped out into the vestibule and turned left, toward reception, feeling strangely watched. At the door she punched in her security code, waited for the click, and then went inside.

The Brennan & Tate fifth floor reception area was small but strikingly elegant, with a sleek mahogany reception station at the center and several groupings of chairs and low tables along the perimeter. The color scheme was pleasant, a muted mix of browns and yellows and greens with splashes of more vivid colors in the abstract artwork adorning the walls. The focal point of the room, however, was the mahogany-and-glass display case in the far corner, placed there as a memorial to Adele Brennan Tate a year or two after
she passed away. Inside the case, restored to museum quality, was the clothing she'd been wearing the night
Titanic
sank.

Artfully displayed on a dressmaker's dummy, the outfit consisted of a pale blue floor-length dress covered by a darker blue overcoat with white fur trim, white gloves, a white fur hand muff, and a blue velvet hat with a pale blue hatband. Other memorabilia had been acquired later by Kelsey's father and added around the clothing, including a cup and saucer from the White Star Line, a menu from
Titanic
's second-class dining room, and a White Star pen and stationery. Front and center were two books: a copy of Adele's memoir of
Titanic
, that she'd had printed in a limited quantity, and the white leather-bound Bible given to her by her husband on their wedding day.

Kelsey had been just ten or eleven years old the first time she had seen this display, and she hadn't liked it at all. Something about the dressmaker's dummy—bearing the same height and dimensions as Adele herself when she'd been alive—looked all too real, like the headless ghost of a woman who had died while dressed for a cold night in 1912. Over the years, however, it had grown on her, and these days she actually looked upon the display fondly, as if it embodied the very spirit and nature of Adele herself. Gazing at it now, Kelsey couldn't help but remember the accusation that Rupert had made this afternoon, that the woman who called herself Adele had actually been a cousin merely
posing
as Adele. No matter what “proof” he thought he had of that claim, Kelsey knew it wouldn't bear out. She was one hundred percent sure Adele had been exactly who she'd said she was. This temporary besmirching of her name would pass, and all Rupert Brennan would end up proving was that he was in need of serious help.

Moving on through the reception area, Kelsey entered the same hallway she'd walked down earlier today and followed it to the executive suite. She saw that everything looked closed down except for Gloria's office, which was fully lit up. She went there now, hoping to see the woman sitting at her desk, but the room was empty. Kelsey stepped inside anyway, looking for a note or something that might indicate where Gloria had gone. She saw nothing of relevance on the desktop, so she took a peek in the lower desk drawers just to see if Gloria's purse was there. It was, in the left bottom drawer. Good. That meant she was still somewhere in the building—unless she'd accidentally gone home without it, just as Kelsey had.

Coming back to the doorway, Kelsey called out Gloria's name, but there
was no reply. Fearing she really was ill, as she'd told Walter earlier, Kelsey went from there to the executive washroom to see if Gloria was inside.

She was not.

From there Kelsey made a quick tour of the rest of the fifth floor, peeking in the copy room, the meeting rooms, and several offices, but most everything was dark. As she neared the far end of the hall, Kelsey wondered if maybe Gloria could be in
her
office on the fourth floor, though she couldn't imagine why. At the very least, perhaps she'd left a note there for Kelsey or sent a text or voice mail that had more information about where she was now.

Kelsey ended her search of the fifth floor near the executive conference room, so she decided to take the stairs down to the fourth floor rather than going all the way back to the elevator bay. She'd already checked the conference room earlier on her hunt for Gloria, but one peek had showed her it was dark and not in use. This time, however, she flipped on the light as she went inside so she wouldn't bump a hip or a shin as she cut through to the back stairwell.

She'd taken several steps across the well-lit room before she froze, realizing that someone was in there.

In a moment that turned seconds into hours, she simply stood and stared, trying to make sense of what she was seeing at the other end of the room.

On the wide expanse of wall, the metal covering for the projection screen hung crooked, its cord dropped down from the lower side. At the other end of that cord hung the body of a person. A woman.

Gloria.

At least she thought it was Gloria. The body was wearing Gloria's clothes. It had Gloria's hair. But the face was purple, such a dark purple that it was hard to tell. Strangest of all was the neck, around which the cord for the projector screen was wrapped. The skin there was purple and red and even bloody. The colors of death.

Gloria was dead.

Kelsey fell to her knees and began to scream.

She was still screaming five minutes later, when Ephraim found her and called for the police.

April 10, 1912

A
DELE

A
dele Brennan stood at the hotel room window and looked out at the busy streets of Southampton below. It was early, but already men were funneling in from every side and pouring down the main avenue toward the White Star docks.

“They look like rats scurrying out from their hidey-holes,” she said, watching the continuous stream of young men with their packs slung over their backs walking along the streets, their breath forming puffs of smoke in the early morning chill.

The sight reminded her of her home in Ireland in more ways than one. Not only had she watched the shipyard workers similarly head down to the docks of Belfast, but for the past three years the ship they had been heading toward each morning was
Titanic
. Now that ship had been relocated to Southampton, England, and was ready to set sail on her maiden voyage across the sea. Just as the shipyard workers had done back home, these men were also streaming toward
Titanic
.

“How excited they must be to staff the finest ship ever built,” her cousin Jocelyn said from the other side of the room. “Da says these workers are the best of the best.”

“For the price of passage, they ought to be.”

“I wonder what kind of accent your father speaks with these days,” Jocelyn said from her perch in front of the mirror, changing the subject. Do you
ever think about whether he has begun to speak in the American style now that he has lived there for so long?”

Adele turned away from the exciting scenery of the window to look at her cousin, who had been pinning up her hair for what seemed like the last half hour.

“I would imagine he still sounds somewhat the same. Many of his friends and business associates are a part of New York's Irish community. As long as he's been surrounded by enough regular speech all these years, he should have retained his ear for it.”

Adele crossed to sit on the end of the bed, still amazed that they would be leaving for America in just a few hours. One week ago she had been home, getting ready for this next big step in her life. Today they would board the ship that would take them across the sea to a new world and a new life. As exciting as that was, it was also quite melancholy. She might never stand on this side of the ocean again in her lifetime.

“Perhaps Mr. Myers can teach us a few American phrases before we get there,” Jocelyn said. “We don't want to sound like complete foreigners, you know.”

Adele eyed her cousin suspiciously. “Mm-hmm. I know what phrases
you
want to hear.”

Jocelyn paused, hands in the air, to give her cousin an inquisitive look. “What?”

Adele grinned. “Oh, like, ‘Miss Oona Jocelyn Brennan, will you marry me? Will you warm my hearth and love me unconditionally forever and forever?'”

“That's better than what you want to hear,” Jocelyn retorted. ‘Miss Beatrice Adele Brennan, will you accept our offer? Will you invest for us and labor here unconditionally forever and ever?'“

Adele frowned. Just because she had an interest in business didn't mean she had no other interests at all.

“Are you going to sit there and fool with your hair all day?” she snapped, rising from the bed and moving toward the window. “We need to get downstairs.”

Jocelyn dropped her arms and turned around in her chair. “Why are you acting this way this morning?”

“What way?”

“Pacing, snapping at me, making fun. This isn't like you at all.” Jocelyn's voice softened as she added, “Are you frightened of the voyage? Or of what comes after?”

Adele studied her cousin. Jocelyn was a born nurturer, a quality that was usually quite endearing. But sometimes her nurturing felt more like mothering, and today that mothering bordered on smothering.

“Thank you for your concern,” Adele replied, trying to sound sincere, “but I suppose it's more excitement than anything else. I'm eager to get downstairs and meet up with Uncle Rowan before Mr. Myers gets here. Why is it taking you so long to dress?”

Rebuffed in her attempt at compassion, Jocelyn returned her attentions to the mirror, her lips pursed, avoiding the question.

“Wait a minute,” Adele said slowly, her eyes narrowing. “I know what's taking you so long. You're nervous about meeting Mr. Myers.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It was fine when we thought he was just some older gentleman my father sent here as his representative,” Adele said, a hint of a smile on her lips, “but from the moment last night when we were told he's practically our same age—and quite dashing besides—everything changed.”

Jocelyn was silent for a moment as she finished her hairstyle and moved on to placing her hat just so. “Perhaps,” she replied. “But I don't think I'm the only one. I noticed you're wearing one of your new dresses already. I thought you were going to save that one for when we disembark in America.”

Adele could feel her cheeks flush. “Headmistress says that first impressions are important. As Mr. Myers is a representative of my father's company, I realized that it was important his first impression of me be a favorable one.”

Jocelyn slid her new hat pin into place and rose from her chair at last. Watching her, Adele could see the teasing glint of her eyes change to a look of sincerity.