Free 34 - The Queen's Jewels by Jessica Fletcher, Donald Bain Page A

Harry had barely touched his breakfast, and wondered if it was because he’d had a losing night at the craps table. I asked.
    “To the contrary, Jessica. I walked away with over four hundred dollars.” He lowered his voice. “It would have been a thousand had you been at my side.”
    I laughed. “Seems to me you don’t need anyone to serve as a lucky charm.”
    “It never hurts to help luck along.” He chuckled. “Celebrated my winnings in the nightclub. They have a disc jockey. It’s called a disco, I suppose. The music is terribly loud, but at my age, my hearing isn’t what it used to be anyway. I admit that I enjoyed it.”
    I smiled. “Somehow, Harry, you don’t strike me as the disco type.”
    “You’d be surprised. I’ve been to my share of them over the years. Anything to spice up life when you finally reach shore after battling boredom for weeks or months at sea.” He sat back, folded his hands on his stomach, and closed his eyes. He’d gone to a different place for those few moments, possibly back to one of his many experiences as a merchant seaman. When he opened his eyes, he shook his head and said matter-of-factly, “I hate growing old.”
    “They say growing old isn’t for sissies,” I said.
    “Yes, I’ve heard that. I had a dear friend, no longer with us, who was fond of saying that dying is the price we pay for living.”
    He evidently read my face, which said I was concerned as to why he’d raised this topic. He offered a small smile and said, “Enough of this dreary gloom-and-doom talk, huh? What’s on your agenda today?”
    “I have my lecture to give at eleven. Before that, I thought I’d take an hour and explore the ship. It’s so huge, I’m not even sure an hour will be enough. Later today—well, I might check out the spa.”
    “Sounds like an excellent plan. Ah, here’s our antiques dealer,” Harry said as Michael Haggerty joined us.
    “Everyone tip-top this morning?” Michael asked.
    “Couldn’t be better, Wendell,” Harry said. He stood and said to me, “I’ll see you later at your lecture, Jessica. Have a good hike around the ship.”
    “Nice shot of you,” Michael said, pointing to my picture on the cover of the Daily Programme . He opened it to see what was on tap that day, while I enjoyed a second cup of coffee. A schedule for the next day was left outside each cabin door the night before, and was chock-full of useful information. Michael put it down and glanced toward the empty table where the Kim party usually sat. “Late sleepers, huh?”
    “Oh, look at the time. I need to get back to my cabin, Michael. I have things to do before I give my lecture. Excuse me.”
    “Call me Wendell,” he said, looking around to make certain no one had overheard me. “Look, Jessica, before you go, I’m still counting on you to find out what you can from Kim.”
    “We’re not discussing this anymore, Michael, ah, Wendell, whatever your name is.”
    “Ignoring terrorism won’t make it go away, Jessica. If you ended up being instrumental in heading off funding for a terrorist organization, you’d have saved many lives, including Americans— mostly Americans.”
    His treading on my patriotism was annoying, but as he knew it would, it touched a chord somewhere inside. However, it was a reminder I hadn’t needed. Before retiring the night before, I’d already gone over in my mind everything that had occurred over the past few days, thinking about the possible connections.
     
     
    A rare blue diamond, the Heart of India, had been stolen. The legendary gem was said to bring its owner either great happiness or great tragedy. In the case of Walter Soon Yang, his happiness ended quickly, and the tragedy was his death at the hands of thieves who’d taken the prize he’d been so thrilled to have acquired. Yang was rumored to be connected to terrorist organizations. Was it true? And if so, who killed Yang? Jewel thieves? Terrorists?
    I go to dinner at the home of my