Sailing to Capri (37 page)

We were a subdued and very wet bunch climbing back up the gangway to our beautiful
Blue Boat.
Montana and I escorted Rosalia. Her step had lost its lightness and she trod like an older woman, as with Magdalena’s arm around her, she returned to her suite.

Montana walked me to my door. I leaned against it, hands behind my back, looking seriously at him. There was no backchat between us now, no man-woman games being played.

“I would have killed Hector if he’d harmed you,” Montana said quietly.

“No need. Bob did it for you.” He raised his brows in a question. “The tornado that came from nowhere,” I said. “The island doesn’t get winds like that. And didn’t you notice it wasn’t blowing anywhere else, just on the terrace? In his letter Bob said he would be with me to make sure I came to no harm. I believe he kept that promise.”

I could tell Montana thought I was being irrational, frightened by the day’s happenings into believing something that was impossible. Still, he humored me.

“Believe what you will, I’m just glad you’re all right.” He tilted my chin with his finger and planted a soft kiss on my lips. “Do we have a dinner date?”

“Please,” I said. He kissed me again, and I watched him stride off down the long blue-carpeted corridor, my heart jumping again for joy.

It was the last night of the cruise and we were supposed to have a gala farewell dinner. Despite all that had happened, and because I knew it was what Bob would have wanted, I contacted the remaining guests and asked them still to dress up. I wanted us to show up looking good and as though we hadn’t a care in the world. Which, I supposed, except for Rosalia, now we didn’t.

Later, dressed in my sea foam chiffon, with the peridot necklace I’d bought only four days and a lifetime ago in Saint-Tropez covering my bruises, my eyes still faintly red from crying and my hair piled on top and threatening to fall down, wearing Bob’s whopping yellow diamond ring and thinking amazed I could easily buy ten of these now and hardly feel the pinch, a bit wobbly in my too-high heels, I walked to the bar to greet Bob’s guests. It was my last night as hostess and with all suspicions gone, I knew he’d have wanted everyone to have a good time.

Diane and Filomena were already propping up the bar with Bordelaise between them, keeping the peace I supposed. Diane
looked more beautiful than I had ever seen her. Her red hair was pulled back in a knot and she wore a simple black Chanel dress with the signature white gardenia at the shoulder. Filomena was in a wild jungle print and Bordelaise looked the innocent in a white lace outfit I seemed to remember from one of her weddings.

I called hello to them, and this time I saw their faces light up in genuine smiles. It was so different from the way it had been before and I knew it was all thanks to Bob. Ginny, flamboyant in scarlet lace, was playing backgammon with Brandon, who was just straight-ahead handsome in his tuxedo. Texas had discarded her crutches and was talking with Melvyn, who was playing our old favorites. Only Rosalia and Magdalena were missing, but I’d expected that.

Dopplemann was there, though, still in his awful green jacket, but I could tell he felt better about himself and more confident.

Davis stood alone by the window, a glass of Perrier in his hand, observing the scene, part of it and yet not. Somehow I knew that the next time Davis was on a yacht it would be his own—and it would have to be bigger and better than anyone else’s.

Reg was telling Texas and Melvyn, who played on, about the Ram’s Head, drinking Peroni beer and looking happy again.

It was a relief not to have to look anymore at Charlie Clement, sporting his superior little half smile as he eyed the women. I wondered uneasily where Hector was. Montana said it was impossible for him to escape but I was still worried. And anyhow, as always, Montana was missing.

I joined the women at the bar and asked for my usual cosmo. Taking a sip, I glanced up and saw all three of them looking at me. “What?” I stared down at my cleavage to see if anything had escaped.

“It’s just that you look like a different woman tonight,” Filomena said.

“Is that good?”

They laughed. “You look years younger,” Bordelaise reassured me.

“It’s the relief, knowing none of you are murderers,” I said, and Bordelaise raised her glass and said she would drink to that.

We clinked our glasses, four women united by Bob Hardwick’s life and his death in a cautious new friendship.

“How is your poor throat?” Diane peered at me but my peridot
collier
covered Hector’s thumbprints perfectly. “Such an evil man.” Diane shuddered. “Poor, poor, Rosalia.”

A whoop of delight came from the backgammon table. Ginny had beaten Brandon at his own game. He was stammering his congratulations to her, and she was laughing and yelling her delight, completely uninhibited. That was the great thing about Ginny; it didn’t matter who you were or how rich you were, she treated everybody the same. And so did Reg. Just look at him now, offering Texas his arm to escort her into dinner.

We drifted onto the afterdeck, where we would dine under the stars, with the lights of Capri twinkling brightly. And still Montana was not here. I wondered if this was to be the story of my life.

I took my seat next to his empty chair, acting as though I didn’t care, but I was smoldering behind my smile.

The night was clear after the storm, the stars were out, champagne was being poured, caviar and fois gras served. Still no Montana. I asked Diane what she intended to do with her château in Saint-Tropez.

“I’ll make it into the best hotel there, of course,” she said, as though there was no question about it.

“And I’ll bring my sister to live there. I’ll give Alice the best rooms overlooking the sea, where she can watch the boats go by. I’m so sorry for all the bad things I said about Bob, the way I behaved. And I’m sorry I was rude to you, Filomena.”

Filomena said, “That’s okay. And you know, it’s odd but I only ever thought of Bob as a man who made money and didn’t particularly care about anything else, except maybe his
dog. Now I see he cared about all of us. He understood who I was, and now I’ll never have to be another man’s mistress.”

I looked at Davis, sipping his Perrier, saying nothing. “And what does the future hold for you, Davis?” I asked.

He lifted an indifferent shoulder. “Success, of course. What else matters?”

“And Herr Dopplemann?”

Dopplemann scrambled to his feet. As usual he clutched a glass of fine Bordeaux, a Léoville Las Cases, a particular favorite of Bob’s that, feeling guilty of having misjudged him, I’d ordered to be decanted especially for him.

“Some years ago I made a very foolish decision,” he said. “Now, thanks to Bob, I am being given a second chance. He had confidence in me and I’ll work hard to prove him right.” We toasted to that as he sat down again.

By now we had finished the appetizers, and the fish—a delicious John Dory—was eaten and the plates cleared away. Salads decorated with pretty edible flowers were tasted, along with perfect cheeses.

Bordelaise said, “And what about you, Daisy? What do you plan to do with your life now?”

I’d planned nothing beyond finding Bob’s killer. In my mixed-up mind the future had somehow involved Montana, but obviously that was just another pipe dream.

“I don’t know,” I said, blushing under their gaze. “It hasn’t sunk in yet. I’ll donate a lot of the money to a foundation, I suppose—to help sick children, the fight against famine, oh, and the local Society for the Prevention of Cruelty
to Animals. Bob was always a big supporter of that. And of course, Sneadley will be my home, though I expect I’ll spend a lot of time at the villa in summer.”

I got up, glass in hand, and said, “I want to propose a toast to Sir Robert Waldo Hardwick, Knight of the Queen’s Realm, a fair and just man. A good man, even though he could be a bit of a despot at times,” I added, making them laugh as we finally celebrated Bob’s life, just the way he’d hoped we would.

Montana finally showed up with the Baked Alaska, another of Bob’s old-fashioned favorites. The lights were dimmed and on a drum roll the waiter appeared bearing aloft the flaming silver platters, and laughing, everyone applauded.

As he slipped into the seat next to me, I threw Montana a scathing sideways glance that left him in no doubt I was totally pissed off.

“I apologize for being late, I was delayed by business calls,” he said to the table. “I have news. And by the way, I’ve already told Rosalia this. The chief of police informed me they surrounded Hector on the cliffs. He made a run for it, it was dark and wet, he didn’t know the terrain. A fissure runs deep into the cliffs there; obviously he didn’t see it. They found his body on the rocks below.”

There was a stunned silence, then Dopplemann said thank you, and everyone joined in a chorus of thank-yous to Montana, the man who had, by putting together all the pieces of an international puzzle, solved the mystery of Bob’s death.

He turned to look at me. “Sorry I’m late.” I shrugged my shoulders indifferently and took another sip of champagne.

“What do I care?” I eyed him over the rim of my glass.

He laughed, knowing I was pretending. “Bob warned me you tended to lie a bit,” he said. “I guess he was right.”

We were alone on deck. It was past midnight; the sky was a dark blue, and the stars were out. The water parted smoothly over our bow, the wake frothed behind us and brilliant stars flickered like candle glow. We stood side by side, not touching, as
Blue Boat
steamed toward Naples, where we would disembark. It was over.

Montana broke the long silence. “There’s something you need to understand about me,” he said. “It began when I was just a boy. You remember I told you about the mare I rode to school every day? She was my closest companion and I loved her the way only a boy who has nothing else to love can. One day, without my knowing it, one of the cowboys took her out on the range. There was barbed wire; she caught her flank, got badly cut up. The wounds were neglected. By the time they brought her back to the ranch, the cuts were severely infected and the limb had swollen to twice its normal size. My father
took one look at her, shrugged his shoulders and went to the barn and got his gun. He shot her right in front of my eyes. She screamed as the bullet hit her. I watched her legs fold under her as if in slow motion, saw her roll over. She looked up at me as though asking why, then her eyes glazed over.

“‘Get rid of her,’ my father told his boys and in minutes they had lassos around my mare and were dragging her away. At that moment my life changed. Mentally, I was already out of there. It was only a matter of time before I left. And I swore I would never love anything or anyone again.”

I touched his arm tenderly. “But you must have cried,” I said.

“I didn’t allow myself to cry. It wasn’t until the night I met Phineas Cloudwalker that I realized it was all right to cry. I finally understood that love takes a toll when bad things happen. And it’s because of him that I began to understand that good things can also come from love.”

He turned his head and our eyes linked. “How can I care this much? I’ve known you such a short time,” he said.

“I know.” My voice was still hoarse from Hector’s stranglehold. “And we’ve seen each other how many days altogether?”

“Very few,” he said.

“Not enough,” I said.

“It’s a beginning, though.”

I nodded, yes, it was.

“A new beginning for me,” he added.

“And a second chance for me.” I smiled as I echoed Bob’s words.

“I guess that’s what life is all about,” Montana said.

“I guess it is.”

“Then will you kiss me?” he asked.

“Why not?” I said, breathless now. “At least it’s a start.”