34 - The Queen's Jewels (21 page)

Haggerty got right to the point. “I think you know everyone here,” he said.

“I’m afraid that’s not true,” I said, gesturing at Uri. “I’ve only
seen
this gentleman, but we’ve never been introduced.”

Uri reached across the table with a large hand and said, “Uri Peretz, Mrs. Fletcher. I work for Mossad.”

“It’s about time we’ve met,” I said lightly. “I kept seeing you, in London and here on the ship, but never really knew who you were.”

“Well,” he said in a deep voice, “now you do, and it is my pleasure. My mother is a big fan of your murder mysteries. She reads the Hebrew editions. She will be excited to learn I have met the great Jessica Fletcher. Perhaps now she will think better of her son and not complain so much that I don’t visit her enough.”

I smiled. “Thank you. Do you mind my asking why you chose to follow
me
the day after Michael and I had dinner?”

His laugh was low and guttural. “Standard procedure, Mrs. Fletcher. When I saw that Michael was with an attractive woman, I was compelled to find out who she was. I must admit that when I discovered that you were such a famous woman, I was taken somewhat aback.”

“Surely once you knew who I was, your interest in me should have ended.”

“Not quite that simple, Mrs. Fletcher. It became obvious to me that your involvement with Michael had nothing to do with writing books. You’re working together.”

“That’s hardly the case, Mr. Peretz.”

“But here you are, part of the
team
.” He turned to Haggerty. “Please proceed, Michael.”

“Could we have Ms. LeClair rejoin us,” Haggerty said to the staff captain.

He left the room, returning seconds later with Betty. She looked at me with red, puffy eyes and took a chair next to Haggerty.

“The reason I asked you to come here, Jessica, is Ms. LeClair. As you know, she’s occupied the cabin next to yours since we left Southampton, and you’re also aware of the murder of her companion tonight, Mr. Kim.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” I turned to Betty and said, “I’m so sorry, Betty.”

“Thank you,” she managed in a barely audible voice.

Haggerty continued. “Ms. LeClair is the one who discovered the body. Naturally, she’s the first person we wanted to talk to. This has been extremely upsetting for her, as you can imagine. We’re done with our questioning and are satisfied that she’s told us everything she knows.”

“I swear it,” she said, her voice stronger.

I had many questions for her, but assumed they’d already been posed by the others.

“I’ll get right to the point, Jessica. Besides being understandably upset by what’s happened this evening, she’s also concerned for her safety. Obviously, she can’t return to her cabin for a number of reasons. I’m informed that there is one vacant suite on the ship for Ms. LeClair to use for the duration of the crossing. Her belongings have already been moved.”

I said, “I think your decision is a wise one, Betty.”

“I couldn’t possibly go back to that cabin where—” She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief.

“The reason I’ve asked you here this evening,” Michael said to me, “is to ask a favor. I’ve suggested that you accompany Ms. LeClair to the suite and help her get settled, you know, engage in some girl talk, make her feel comfortable.”

Had I conjured a dozen reasons why Haggerty had asked me to join them, this wouldn’t have made the list.

“Will you, Mrs. Fletcher?” the staff captain asked.

“Is this appropriate?” I asked. “I would have thought that you’d want a member of the crew to do this.”

“We discussed various options with Ms. LeClair,” the staff captain said, “and your name came up. She prefers that it be you. Besides, our female crew members of a certain rank are extremely busy with other duties.”

I looked across the table at Haggerty. A tiny smile was on his lips, and his raised eyebrows called for an answer. Betty LeClair’s expression was also a question mark. Uri Peretz grunted and looked down at his lap.

“Well, of course, if I’m needed,” I said.

“Splendid,” Haggerty said, slapping his palms together. “Thank you, Jessica. I knew you’d come through.”

“Thank you so much,” Betty said. “I didn’t want a stranger with me tonight. I don’t intend to be a bother. It’s just that—” She stopped and blinked back tears.

“Don’t think a moment about it. I’m happy to help,” I said. “You’ve been through a terrible ordeal.”

The staff captain escorted Betty from the room, and Uri excused himself, saying he had things to do elsewhere, which left Haggerty and me alone.

“Michael, why do I have the feeling that your reason for arranging this is about more than simply providing Ms. LeClair female company?”

He clasped his hand to his chest. “You really know how to hurt a man, Jessica.”

I waited for a better answer.

“All right,” he finally said, “having you close to her could reap rewards in the investigation.”

“Really?” I said. “I had the impression that you’d ruled her out as a suspect in Mr. Kim’s murder.”

He winced. “Not exactly,” he said.

“Then—”

He lowered his head and looked up at me from under his eyebrows.

“Then she might be a cold-blooded murderer,” I said.

“Let’s hope not,” he said, brightening and standing. “You’re a trouper, Jessica Fletcher. It was my lucky day when I ran across you on that steamy Caribbean island years ago. We didn’t get anywhere with our questioning of her, but you might.”

“With some ‘girl talk.’”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll do my best, assuming I survive the night.”

A
ship’s officer accompanied me to Betty’s new quarters, a lovely duplex suite. I tried to put her at ease in our first few minutes together, and she seemed eager to do the same for me. I wasn’t sure how to initiate a conversation that wouldn’t further upset her. After all, she’d just discovered the body of her companion, presumably her lover, the victim of a vicious knife attack, and endured questioning that was undoubtedly strenuous and possibly accusatory.

I suggested that we call room service for tea and an assortment of sweets for us to share. She liked that idea, and I placed the order. Ten minutes later a sharp knock at the door announced that it had arrived. I opened the door, expecting to greet someone from room service. Instead, to my surprise, Rupesh stood behind a rolling service cart.

“You work room service, too?” I said.

“No, ma’am, but because I’d been Ms. LeClair’s room steward before, it was felt that she would be more at ease with me. I’ve been assigned here for the duration of the crossing.”

What he said made sense, of course, but something inside me felt at odds with that explanation.

He rolled in the cart, arranged the pastries and tea service along with napkins and utensils, and quickly left.

“He’s a nice young man,” Betty said when she emerged from the bathroom. She’d freshened up, having skillfully applied a modicum of makeup and dabbed on a strong and distinctive perfume—Shalini, Dennis Stanton had said.

“Very nice,” I agreed. “He has family living in my town in Maine.”

“I would like to know more about Maine, Mrs. Fletcher.”

“And I’ll be happy to tell you all about it, provided you call me Jessica.”

As we sipped our tea, I told her about Cabot Cove and my friends there. She listened politely, although I sensed that her attention was elsewhere for much of the time. I couldn’t blame her. She had a lot on her mind at that moment, and I tried to catch an appropriate time to turn the conversation in her direction. That break occurred when she compared Cabot Cove to Paris. “I don’t know if I could ever be happy living in a small town,” she said. “I’ve spent my whole life in large cities.”

“It must have been exciting being a model in Paris,” I said.

“It had its moments.”

“Oh,” I said through a laugh, “I forgot what you’d said at Tom Craig’s dinner party. You found it boring.”

She managed the first smile since we’d sat down.

“I’m sure you’re tired from everything you’ve been through tonight. If you want to go to bed, please just tell me to go.”

“Oh, no, Jessica. I could never sleep.” She shivered at the thought. “Besides, I enjoy talking with you. I like it that you don’t seem to be judgmental.”

“I try not to be.”

She looked down, deep in thought. When she looked up, she said matter-of-factly, “I’m afraid I’ve made many mistakes in my life.”

“We’re all guilty of that from time to time,” I said.

“No, I mean serious mistakes, becoming involved with the wrong people and for the wrong reasons.”

Her comment was both interesting and provocative. George Sutherland had told me that she’d become a “party girl” after her modeling career had ended, using her natural beauty to attract wealthy older men. Was that was what she was referring to, that unsavory aspect of her life? Was Kim Chin-Hwa one of those “wrong people”?

I didn’t have to encourage her to continue.

“I feel terrible for Kim,” she said, “the horrible way he died.”

“How did you happen to find him?”

“I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind. It was just too horrible.” She shivered again. “Sometimes I wonder if there is a God.”

“Why do you say that, Betty? Surely no God would want to see anyone brutally murdered.”

She nibbled on a pastry and put it down. “It’s just that—it’s just that he wasn’t the nicest of men.”

“I’m listening.”

“He was Walter Yang’s partner. But you knew that.”

“Yes, of course. He spoke openly about the relationship at the dinner party.”

“They weren’t really friends. Kim lied. He was planning to end their business relationship before Walter died.”

“I wasn’t aware of that. Yet, it’s my understanding that Kim might have been the beneficiary of the insurance on the Heart of India.”

She exhibited a sardonic smile. “He was expecting a big windfall. It softened the ‘blow of losing Walter.’”

“But you say he was going to end the partnership.”

“When Walter conveniently died.”

“I’m sorry, Betty. I’m not following.”

She said nothing, nor did she have to. I decided to be direct. “Are you saying that Kim killed his partner?”

I wasn’t sure whether the crying that ensued was legitimate or not. “It’s terrible for me to say such a thing,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Not if it’s true,” I said. I waited a decent interval before adding, “Is it?”

She didn’t look at me as she said, “I am afraid it is, Jessica.” She used a lace-trimmed handkerchief to dab her cheeks. I don’t know why it occurred to me, but I realized I hadn’t seen a woman use a handkerchief in a long time. I carry packets of tissues. Most of my handkerchiefs were gifts from students or more likely their mothers. I had them carefully folded away in my bureau drawer with scented sachets.
I should make an effort to use them
, I thought, watching Betty deftly wipe under her eyes without disturbing her flawless makeup. She was a very studied young woman; every part of her dress and demeanor had been thought out. I wondered how much of her story followed the same pattern.

“Are you sure Kim killed Yang?” I said.

“I am,” she replied. “I don’t mean to shock you.”

“You’re not shocking me, Betty. Are you also saying that Kim stole the Heart of India from Mr. Yang?”

She’d sat there with her head hung low, avoiding direct eye contact. Now she looked up and shrugged. “What other answer could there be?”

I let her accusation sink in as I poured more tea.

“I’m sorry, Jessica,” she said.

I waved away her apology. “Can you prove it?” I asked.

“Prove it? No. I only know that Kim hated Yang, hated him for a long time. He accused Walter of stealing funds from the partnership to support his political cronies, a bunch of thugs. It became very nasty after a while. I heard Kim threaten to kill Walter more than once, but I never thought he’d really do it till it happened. I’ve been so afraid ever since. I knew something terrible would happen.” Tears rose in her eyes again, but she blinked them back.

I thought back to our first meeting at Tom Craig’s. Had she seemed nervous or uncomfortable in Kim’s presence? If she had been afraid, she’d hidden her emotions well. The only time I hadn’t seen her perfectly composed was when she left Kim’s stateroom in a fury or when she barked at his bodyguard at dinner one night. Apparently anger and annoyance were emotions she felt free to exhibit. But here was a new Betty, morose and vulnerable. Was she genuine? She had been a high-fashion model. Successful models need to be able to express myriad emotions. Was this just a very good actress before me?

“What about the diamond?” I asked. “Did Kim bring it on board with him?”

“No, I don’t think so. I never saw it, although he talked about it.”

“Talked about having it?”

“No. But he was jealous of Walter for having bought it.”

I sat back and rubbed my forehead. The last thing I’d expected was this accusation from her. Had she said the same thing to Haggerty and the staff captain during their questioning of her? I doubted it. If she had, Haggerty would certainly have filled me in before asking me to accompany her to her stateroom.

I also thought about Kim Chin-Hwa. He was a small man with delicate features and almost feminine hands. George had said that Yang was strangled and beaten. By Kim Chin-Hwa? Impossible! Which didn’t mean, of course, that he hadn’t enlisted others to do his killing for him. George had said as much when we’d met for breakfast in London.

Naturally I also wondered why Betty had chosen to tell
me
of her suspicions. Did she expect me to pass along the information to Haggerty and the ship’s security staff?