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

British publisher, who introduces me to Kim Chin-Hwa, a Korean businessman, who just happens to be a business partner of the murdered owner of the Heart of India. Mr. Kim tells me he is booked on the Queen Mary 2 along with his beautiful girlfriend, Betty LeClair, a former Paris model, the pair accompanied by two formidable-looking young men. Employees? Relatives? Bodyguards?
    Michael Haggerty, a former MI6 intelligence agent and old friend, now back in the intelligence game, also shows up at my publisher’s home, using an alias, Wendell Jones, antiques dealer. He tells me that he, too, will be joining me on the crossing to New York, and asks me to spy on Mr. Kim for him. We’re tailed by an Israeli intelligence agent. Why?
    It was an odd confluence of events, to be sure, but what did it mean? Haggerty had always had a knack for attracting trouble. It was as if he was a magnet for the bad guys. He wanted me to get close to the victim’s partner in the hope that I’d pick up on something he said or did that might help the MI6 investigation. This man could be completely innocent and know nothing about either the theft or terrorists. He was a victim himself since he’d lost his good friend and partner. I refused Michael’s request. Now he was suggesting that if I continued to refuse, I’d be aiding and abetting terrorists.
    Ridiculous!
     
     
    As I was about to leave the table, my cloak-and-dagger friend added, “And don’t forget, Jessica, that the owner of the Heart of India was murdered, and that his murderer could be aboard this ship. Murder! Your specialty!”
    I ignored the jab. What nagged at me as I walked away was that there was a modicum of truth to what he’d said. Not that I consider murder to be my “specialty.” Sure, I deal with murder day after day as I sit at my computer and weave tales of mystery and mayhem, deeds most foul. But that’s what I do for a living. I’m a writer. My fascination with murder and murderers has to do with the characters and plots in my books.
    But I can’t deny that I too often end up leaving my computer and the pages I’ve written and find myself immersed in murder of a more human and realistic type. Seth Hazlitt accuses me of seeking out those situations. Do I? I prefer to think not. But if I’m to be totally honest—and I like to think that I am— real murders exert a powerful pull on me. Is it because I’m able to take what I’ve learned from them and make use of it in my writing? I’ve used that rationalization at times. But truth be told, there’s more to it than that.
    The theft of the rare blue diamond the Heart of India, and the murder of its owner, Walter Soon Yang, had captured my imagination. No debate. And while I feigned disinterest in Michael Haggerty’s involvement, I’d very much been interested in Inspector George Sutherland’s take on the case. Should I bring these new wrinkles to George’s attention? Would he welcome the information? Or would he think my vivid imagination—and Michael Haggerty’s—was conjuring connections where none existed? What to do? I found myself mentally questioning every aspect of the case, and I had a lecture to give in two hours. Perhaps a good long walk would clear my mind.
    My self-generated tour of the QM2 was both interesting and tiring. I started at the ship’s stern, where I’d just had breakfast, and checked out the outdoor Terrace Pool and Bar, although through a window because of the foul weather. I made my way down a few decks to the art gallery, where auctions would take place each day that we were at sea, then peeked in the Golden Lion Pub and other bars and restaurants, browsed the high-end shops, took in the huge Royal Court Theatre—a British theatrical troupe would be performing plays there later in the day—and finally looked into Illuminations, the floating planetarium in which I’d be delivering my lecture. I checked my watch. I was due there in an hour and realized that I’d better get