Title: The Missing Cabin
Pairings: Alice/Male Twilight Character
Rating: M
Genre: Suspense/Mystery
Wordcount: 7826
Summary: A honeymoon cruise takes a turn for the mysterious when things start to disappear. Including Alice's husband. AH. Vintage Setting.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: I always picture the Volturi characters as depicted in the films, just because they were so visually striking. The time period should be pictured as mid to late 1930s, just because I was watching a lot of Miss Marple between Olympic events. Hope you enjoy!
The Missing Cabin
[#]
I've always found the ocean beautiful. The way it hangs in the background of the coastal cities, like a glittering silver curtain behind the skyscrapers. How it sits serene and still one moment, then crashes vicious white crests upon the beach the next. Dark waters that swirl in ominous forest greens, frigid and deep blues, even shades of purple when the sky is right. Depths of ink and shadow, like a bloodied bruise.
I still find it beautiful, even after all that's happened, but it holds more danger and more sinister possibilities these days. For a long time, I couldn't look at it without thinking about that night, about what might have happened instead of what did. I've learned to live with it all, and these days I can shake off the shiver I still always get when I look over the side of a boat. Just the chill of the sea, I tell myself, and nothing more.
And nothing more.
It was the beginning of October, and we raced through the customs shed together. We were late for the voyage, and I was so sure that we'd miss it. The day had been an absolute whirlwind, and by the time we arrived at the pier, Riley Biers and I had only been married to each other for four hours. It was, as the old cliché goes, all very sudden. But I was happy, and terribly in love with my new husband. He had changed everything for me in such a short time. How I thought about myself. How I thought about my future. How I thought about love.
"I told you we'd make it in time!" Riley smiled at me with self-assured triumph.
He was so handsome. Roguish. Carefree. Very different than the formal and rigid types who'd taken an interest in me before. It was a funny thing about all of those charming young men at dinner parties, that they all seemed to disappear so quickly when I needed the most help. Somehow, it wasn't hard at all to believe that Riley was a dream, or some Prince Charming who'd come to life from the pages of a storybook, slightly crinkled but all the more dear for it.
"I don't know why I ever doubted you," I said, "I promise I won't ever do it again."
I leaned in to kiss him, and he playfully pulled away before I got too close.
"Alice," He scolded, "People might get the wrong idea."
I glanced around, trying to see what people he was supposed to be talking about.
It was the usual throng of last minute passengers like us, saying goodbye to family and friends. Around them were all sorts, waving to people on the decks of the ship or leaning out of the porthole windows of their cabins.
The ship itself was fairly impressive. She was called the Arcadia - a twenty-five thousand-ton ocean liner with three funnels, lazily puffing coils of smoke into the clear autumn sky. An English vessel with an English crew, and probably her fair share of English passengers. From the pier, you could see the railings of each deck and the lights strung across them, a little like the small square lanterns you see on Chinese New Year. The steam winches rattled as cargo was lowered into the hold, stacked like shoeboxes in a closet. The passengers standing nearby looked as small as figurines on a railway model.
"Are you worried that officers will think I'm a wanton woman?" I teased back, coyly fluttering my eyelashes.
"Gossip moves fast on a ship like this, you know," He chuckled, "Nothing to do but look at the ocean and make up scandalous stories about the other passengers. And we never got our husband-and-wife passport, so…"
"So they'll think that I'm you mistress instead of your wife?" I said, "Just for that, I'm going to act like the quintessential American floozy. Just to keep them on their toes."
"I think the tongues'll be wagging without any extra help from you. The bored old biddies on these voyages have imaginations that'd put a novelist to shame."
He spoke over his shoulder, already pushing through the crowd and walking ahead of me to clear the way. Riley was very protective in his way, always trying to shield me from things but never trying to coddle. I liked that. The feeling that I was protected but not isolated or treated like I was made of glass. It was part of why I'd begun to feel so solid and healthy again.
But the cold dark feelings still crept over me from time to time. I couldn't help it. I knew that I was better, but I still wasn't well. That was part of the idea of the honeymoon, of the whole whirlwind thing. Riley wanted to whisk me away from dour halls and cramped rooms and scheduled meals. He wanted to show me Europe, in all its dazzling glory, to take me to London and Paris and Barcelona. To the grand old cities with their grand old buildings.
"What do we do with the tickets?" I asked him, "Do we give them to the man at the top of the gangplank?"
I nodded at a very formidable figure in uniform who was greeting each passenger as they boarded. He was probably the tallest man I'd ever seen, and built like he could handle any rowdy types who might want to make trouble.
"No, sweetheart," Riley shook his head, "You hang onto them until we're under way. The cabin steward'll come around and collect them. You weren't kidding when you said you'd never sailed, huh?"
He started towards the gangplank, but I reached out and grabbed his arm. Suddenly I was breathless. Dizzy.
"No," I said a little sharply, "I'm sorry, I mean… do you mind if we stand here for a little while?"
"Are you alright?" He asked, "You can't be seasick yet, landlubber."
"I'm fine."
"Then let's go."
I wanted to explain, to tell him that I knew I should be happy and excited like the people waving from the decks, but that a sudden sense of dread had come over me. My mind was full of vague ideas of deep night, howling wind and freezing water, and terror. The fear that had struck me like a bolt of lightning. So intangible, so hard to grasp or understand, but too primal and raw to ignore. All of a sudden, I didn't want to board the ship.
"Alice," Riley said gently, "Alice, let's go."
"I'm… worried…" I said, a little uneasily.
"Another stray morbid thought?" He asked with a grin, "Shake it off. This whole trip is about getting rid of that kind of thinking."
"No, it's not that. Do you have the money?"
I don't know why I didn't tell him. I suppose it was just that I still hadn't gotten used to the idea of confiding in anybody.
The money was my inheritance, left to me in a trust fund. My parents had died some years before, but the money was to be held until my twenty-first birthday. I hadn't needed it right away, of course. I was comfortable enough in the quiet bedroom that looked over the garden, with my meals and basic needs all taken care of. And there were plenty of books at Plainsview, so I was never short on entertainment.
But to fund our elopement and the honeymoon trip, we'd completely emptied out the main account. The one I could get to without having the administrators argue with me about sensible distribution. It came to ten thousand dollars, in crisp brand new bills neatly bundled into a manila envelope. When last I saw it, the envelope was being tucked into my new husband's inside pocket, and I had absolutely no reason to believe it would be somewhere else, but I wanted to turn the conversation - and my thoughts - away from the strange and sinister images in my head.
"Right here." Riley smiled, patting the left side of his chest.
"It's a lot to be carrying around in cash…"
"Would it make you feel better if I turned it in at the purser's office?"
"Yes!" I smiled, "Yes, it certainly would!"
"Alright," He nodded, "Now let's get aboard, while they're still letting people on."
"Which way do we go?" I asked, as we started up the gangplank.
"Straight up to the top and through that door," He nodded in a direction I couldn't see much of from behind him, "Then into the elevator and down to B deck. Where the honeymoon cabin awaits."
The ship was somehow different than I'd pictured it. The hallways were narrower than I thought that they'd be, and we passed only one person. A blonde and severe stewardess, who smiled at me and nodded at Riley and didn't say anything to either of us. There were people somewhere nearby, I could hear murmurs and chatter, but I think everybody was still up top waving to people on the pier.
"Now, let's see…" Riley looked around at the numbers on the doors, "Hand me our tickets."
I opened my purse and pulled them out. I'd placed them neatly to one side, but it was always a little bit of trouble pulling things like envelopes or bus schedules out of that purse. It had one of those metal closures that went all the way around the top, and was just slightly smaller than it ought to have been in order to be convenient.
"Here you go."
"Let's have a look," Riley glanced over the tickets, and his face fell a little, "Oh… you're not superstitious, are you?"
"Not really," I shrugged, "Why? What's the matter?"
"We're in cabin B-13." He told me, very carefully.
I laughed.
"That's not the kind of thing that bothers me," I said, "I don't believe in lucky numbers."
"Good." Riley nodded and began peering around the hallway, "Now where is it?"
I looked at the door right beside him. The little place card on it said B-13. I cleared my throat, and tapped it for him. He rolled his eyes, happily embarrassed with himself, and opened the door.
"Here we are, then." He announced, flicking on the lights and ushering me in.
"It's beautiful!"
The walls were panelled with light oak, and the porthole was less like the little round hole in the wall I'd seen in cartoons of ships, and more like a real window. The sort you'd find in any old house. All of the furniture was rosewood, and the chair cushions and bedspread were yellow satin. There was even a private bathroom attached, which please me to no end. I'd been on a sleeper train once where we all had to head to the end of the very last car in order to use the facilities. That hadn't exactly been my idea of luxury, but this cabin was.
"Best I could get," Riley said proudly, "Especially on such sort notice."
"I'm just impressed that you got anything at all."
"I have a few tricks up my sleeve." He shrugged.
Our luggage had been brought to the room, stacked neatly beside a small table with a bowl of fruit and several novels on top of it. I ran my finger along the spines of the books. All of them had somewhat melodramatic titles, and I recognized none of the authors.
"Love stories," Riley said, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind me and resting his chin on my shoulder, "I told them not to put any detective stories or anything gruesome in here. No Maltese Falcon for you. Too morbid."
"I don't read love stories." I told him, spinning around so that the tips of our noses touched. His lips were close enough to kiss, but I teased him by staying just far away enough to feel how warm his breath was.
"You should start." He gently traced his hand along the back of my dress, following up the back seam until he got to the top. Finally, I could stand the game no longer and I leaned in towards him. Kissing deeply, pressing into him.
With one hand still caressing the back of my neck, he began to undo my front buttons. The thin floral fabric fell away from my shoulders, and I sucked in a breath as the cool air touched my skin. The sound of it excited him, and he held me tighter and moved his kisses from my mouth to my throat, leaving a hot trail behind him.
"I love you." I whispered weakly, his hands against the small of my back. The light stubble on his chin felt rough and masculine. The strength of him around me made me feel so delicate, that it was as though I transformed into something beautiful when he touched me. I became desirable.
He kissed down the curve of my neck, his hands hurrying to the strap of my brassier. My whole body arched towards him, and I shivered a little when he reached my collarbone. I wanted him, but the sensations were so intense. I could feel everything, every slip of fabric, every brush of fingers. My body was overwhelmed, and my mind was retreating. Protecting itself from the raw vulnerability of the situation, wavering between the craving for intimacy and the familiar dark corners of anxiety.
Riley pressed on, oblivious.
I was terrified that if I pulled away from him, if I asked him to stop, he wouldn't understand. He would think that it was him. But it wasn't. He was perfect and kind and so desirable. It was only that so many things had happened that day, and so many things had changed about my life in the last week alone. I suppose I was tired, or maybe just not ready.
It was the sound of the chimes sounding in the hall, and a powerful voice calling out, that spared me from that awkwardness:
"All ashore that's going ashore! All ashore that's going ashore!"
I pushed away from Riley, as gently as I could. He tried to catch me close to him again, but I managed to laugh softly and keep away to straighten out my dress.
"I want to see the skyline while we go by," I told him, "I've never sailed before. Remember?"
"Oh, Alice!" Riley groaned, his hair slightly out of place and his cheeks flushed.
"I'll come back soon," I told him coyly, "Don't you worry. We have a whole voyage together."
"I don't think we should ever leave this cabin…" He purred, standing close to me again.
"It won't take long," I kissed him quickly and slipped towards the door, "Just wait here, and I'll be back before you know it."
"You're killing me." He said.
"Why don't you run the money down to the purser? It'll give you something to do."
"Yeah," He sighed, "I suppose it's sensible to get that done as soon as possible…"
"Good. I'll see you back here soon."
[#]
It was like remembering pieces of a film sometimes, the way the flashes and sensations came over me. A dark daydream, the same as before. Night. The cold splashing of water against the side of the ship. This time fog, and the distant sense of Riley's voice softly calling for me.
Alice! Alice!
"Miss?" Someone said from beside me, "Madam? Miss? Are you alright?"
With that I was reeled back into reality. Standing at the rail, staring out at the waving people on the pier. The man who'd spoken was standing beside me, a tall and slender figure looking sharp in his officer's uniform. He was holding out a handkerchief to me, and I realised that there were tears on my cheeks.
"I'm alright," I smiled as much as I could, wiping the tears away with my thumb, "Thank you, though."
"Leaving someone behind?"
"It's my first time away from America." I said, and it was perfectly true. It just had nothing to do with why I was upset.
"Usually takes a bit longer for homesickness to set in." The officer said with a sympathetic smile, tucking away his handkerchief. He seemed a little too smooth, and a little too cocky, but harmless. It was probably his job to make sure everyone had a smooth voyage.
"Oh," I laughed, "I'm a very emotional person."
"That's fine by me," He nodded, "I'm used to dramatic personalities."
"Are you the first officer?" I asked, just to be polite.
"No, I'm the Safety and Security Officer."
"That must be an adventure."
"Not at all! It's more like being the house detective at a hotel than anything else. Every now and again, some dowager looses her jewellery and thinks she's been robbed, but the usual reason is that her personal maid has put it in a different box." He said with a self-deprecating shrug.
"Are you an American?" I asked because of his accent, "I thought all of the crew was English."
"All of the crew have English passports," He explained, "I'm Greek by birth. I learned English from an Egyptian who'd spent several years in New York City, so my English comes out American. It helps on these Atlantic crossings. We have quite a diverse crew, actually. A few Italians, a French Canadian; one of the Stewardesses is Austrian, I think. But mostly English."
"What's your name? You're first name, if you don't mind."
Plainsview had given me a certain dislike for knowing people by rank and surname only. Doctor So-and-so and Nurse Such-and-such. It made them all seem like they were more profession than person.
"Demetri." He said.
"Alice."
Instead of taking my hand daintily, as he was no doubt trained to do with lady passengers, he shook it like I were a man. It made me smile. There was something about the gesture that put me at ease with him. It was like being little kids and suddenly deciding to form a secret club with the neighbour down the street. An instant friendship.
Distant voices called to one another:
"In with the gangplank!"
"Gangplank's in, Sir!"
"Close rails! Stand by!"
The whistle sounded twice. A low, hollow noise that made the crowd saying goodbye react with a frenzy of waving and cheering and calling out things nobody could properly hear. There was a small vibration underneath my feet, but it was imperceptible in a way that made me wonder if it wasn't my mind playing tricks on me again.
"Are we moving?" I asked Demetri, "Have the engines started?"
"Don't you feel them?" He asked, "Some people do and some people don't. I find that the people who do are less inclined to seasickness."
"My husband says that eating ginger helps with nausea," I told him, "He's crossed the Atlantic a few times, so I suppose he'd know. I'm not sure if I'll get seasick…"
Demetri chuckled.
"You'll find out soon enough," He said, "October is a terrible month for a first voyage. The weather tends to be vicious. And it's no good to be on the Arcadia if you're prone to seasickness."
"Why?"
"Our doctor is amazing - I once saw him get rid of the common cold - but he absolutely cannot help patients with two things. Seasickness and hangovers."
"What terrible luck for a man who works on an ocean liner!" I laughed.
"Well, he's pretty good at sympathizing and his bedside manner's usually enough to keep his patients cheerful through the worst of it. Besides, everything else we have is top of the line."
"Yes," I nodded, "The cabins are just stunning. The colours are muted but cheerful, it's a nice balance."
"Where did they stow you and the husband?"
"B deck," I told him, "But we got the unlucky number."
"How do you mean?"
"We're in cabin thirteen."
Demetri paused, and tilted his head with a small and uncertain smile.
"That can't be right," He said, "Cabin thirteen?"
"Yes. We had a little trouble finding it, and I remember the number on the door and a joke that Riley made. Why? What's wrong?"
"I don't want to upset you, but we have no cabins numbered thirteen aboard this ship."
He wasn't playing some cruel joke, or trying to frighten me. Many ships, including the Arcadia, omitted the number thirteen on each deck. Maritime people tended towards extreme superstition, and it wasn't an uncommon practice at all. But I could have sworn that I knew the number was thirteen! I'd seen it myself, as clear as the blue sky above us! Just as I was on the edge of hysteria, Demetri calmly suggested that we go to B deck and have a look. After all, the numbers on the doors were just printed on white cards and slipped into holders. It would be easy enough for someone to change them as a prank.
As soon as we were there, I found myself wishing I'd paid better attention to my surroundings. All the doors looked alike. Everything blurred together. And, just as Demetri had warned me, there didn't seem to be a cabin with the number thirteen on it.
Just when I thought that there was no hope of explaining the situation, the blonde stewardess Riley and I had passed earlier appeared at the other end of the hallway.
"Her!" I said and pointed, "She saw us settling in! She'll remember!"
Demetri smiled, somewhat reassured, and called her over to us.
"Jane?" He said, "Do you have a moment?"
She nodded and made her way towards us.
"Something I can do for you, ma'am?" She asked me.
"This lady believes that she's been put in B-13..." Demetri explained, no doubt trying his utmost to be tactful.
A looked of puzzlement came over the young woman's face.
"We haven't got any thirteens," She replied, "You know that. They're bad luck."
"Well, exactly," He shrugged, "Which means that she can't figure out what cabin she's actually supposed to be in."
"Have you checked your ticket, ma'am?"
"Her husband has the tickets, and we can't seem to find him either."
"Oh…"
"You do remember us?" I asked, "We passed by you earlier."
"I think I remember you, ma'am, but I don't recall you being with a husband," She said, as though she were thinking back, "No matter. I'm sure we can sort everything out. What was the name you registered under?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Riley Biers." I said.
The stewardess nodded and pulled a pad of paper from her skirt pocket. The list of which passengers had been assigned which cabins on the deck. She bit the corner of her lip and shook her head.
"No Mr. and Mrs. Biers on here," She said, "I'm sorry."
"But," I stammered, "Our luggage was in our room…"
"I direct all the placement of luggage on this deck," Jane replied, "I don't remember any tags that said Biers."
An idea came to me then, something that might explain at least part of the mystery.
"Of course!" I said, "My husband and I have only been married a very short time. The tags on my luggage might still be in my maiden name. Brandon."
The stewardess thought for a moment, then smiled.
"The Louis Vuitton bags."
"Yes." I sighed, so happy to have the ordeal behind me.
"Two suitcases and a little trunk. Very nice. They're in B-16."
"There we are," Demetri declared, "Problem solved, Mrs. Biers…"
"But…" The stewardess said to him softly, seeming hesitant about something, "There was no other luggage placed in that cabin. Not with the name Biers. Not with any name."
"Of course there would be!" I scoffed, "There must be!"
Demetri gave Jane an inquisitive glance, and she shook her head almost imperceptibly. It reminded me of the way the doctors and nurses used to behave, the way they overlooked everyone else's powers of observation. I knew that they were beginning to think I was hysterical, or delusional. Perhaps I'd been confused about the cabin number, but I certainly wasn't confused about the fact that I had boarded the ship with my husband.
"This is ridiculous!" I marched over to B-16 and swung the door open. There was my luggage next to the little table, just as it had been.
And there was nothing else. I tried to think if Riley's luggage had been beside mine earlier. It was possible that there had been some mistake when the baggage was loaded, but I'd been so distracted before. I hadn't noticed.
"It's not here…" I murmured.
"No sign of your husband, either." The stewardess said a little sharply.
"Jane." Demetri replied in a warning tone. Another look was exchanged between the two of them, and she left the room.
"I'm sure it's all explainable," I laughed, trying to stay calm and rational, "He's probably still at the purser's office. He had to run an errand."
"Well then," Demetri smiled, "I'll keep you company until he comes back. After all, he might have gotten the number wrong himself. We'll have to stop him from pacing the corridors, looking for a cabin that doesn't exist."
"Yes," I said, "Yes, you're probably right."
We waited for two hours.
We talked about how I'd first met Riley, and about the elopement. We talked about the hastily scheduled voyage, and how Riley had handled all of the details. I even told him about my time at Plainsview a little. Ordinarily, I don't think I would have done that. In fact, I was certain that I would never tell anyone about it - only Riley would know, and he wouldn't care.
To my surprise, Demetri just nodded when I spoke about it. As though I were mentioning a hotel I'd stayed at once.
"These things happen to people," He said, "Rest cures are suggested to too many women these days."
And the minutes slipped by. Riley did not appear.
"What if something's happened to him? What if he was mugged on his way to the purser's? He could be hurt!" I said, wringing my hands together.
"There now, Alice," Demetri tried to comfort me, "Don't go jumping to the worst of things so soon."
He stood from the reading chair and picked of the receiver of a smooth white telephone that sat on the bedside table. He spoke softly with the ship's operator, asking for the purser, and waited.
"Hello, Marcus?" He said cheerfully, "Yes, yes. A little something strange has come up. Has a young man been by to drop off a large sum of money? Ten thousand dollars. It would have been in the name Biers or possibly Brandon if - oh? I see. No, no. Call in if anybody like that comes along, will you?"
He clicked the phone back onto its cradle.
"He didn't make it to the purser's office." I said softly.
Demetri nodded sombrely.
"Will you come with me a moment?" He sighed, "It'll help."
"Help?"
"Yes. We'll have to search the ship now, you see…"
[#]
I waited in another wood panelled room, this one decorated with ink drawings of old ships and dark brown leather couches. It seemed to be some sort of officer's lounge, or perhaps somewhere people came for coffee and cigarettes after dining at the captain's table. It was probably a very nice place to sit and listen to the ebb and flow of the ocean, but just then it was as comfortable and interesting as a padded cell.
I knew they thought I was crazy.
I should have never told Demetri about the sanatorium.
He'd taken me to see the second officer, the tall and burly man who'd been greeting people on the gangplank as they boarded. He seemed cheerful enough, happy to help.
"Felix," Demetri asked him, "You remember this young lady?"
"Certainly," He grinned, "If you'll pardon me, miss, it's difficult to forget ladies who are as pretty and as fashionable as you."
Demetri nodded.
"Good. And you remember the man she was with? Her husband?"
At this the second officer looked perplexed.
"This lady didn't board with a husband," He shook his head, "I remember quite well, actually."
"You sure?" Demetri asked.
"I'd swear it. There wasn't another passenger who came up the plank before or after her…"
"That's not true!" I cried, "I know you saw Riley! Why are you lying?"
The strain of it all had worn me down, and it was then that I'd begun to sob uncontrollably. I felt so helpless, so small and put upon. Why were they doing this to me? Why had the stewardess done the same? Of course they'd seen my husband. Of course they had. They'd smiled and nodded and said hello - they wouldn't have done that to thin air!
The doctor was brought in after that. He was a friendly, soft-spoken man who gave me several sedatives, and I slept curled up on that leather couch deeply and dreamlessly. When I woke up, I looked at a little silver clock on a table next to a lamp. Fifteen minutes to two. It was pitch black outside and rain was lashing against the windows.
"Good," Demetri said, coming into the room from a side door, "You're awake now."
He smiled and nodded.
It wasn't the sympathetic smile of someone who was embarrassed for you after and outburst, or the insipid smile of someone who was trying to be kind to a lunatic, or even the stilted and plastic smile of a man whose job it is to like people. It was just a friendly smile. Just a nice, genuine smile.
I was very grateful for that.
"The captain wants to see you," He said, "Don't mind him if he's unfriendly. He's had a hell of a day."
I stood up, still a little numb and bleary eyed from the sleep, and followed him through a short corridor to an office with fairly Spartan decorations and a dark-haired man in a white cap sitting behind a desk. Behind him, the second officer was leaning on a bookshelf, looking very tired and a little sullen. The captain didn't bother to stand up to greet me.
"Miss Brandon," He said, "Please, have a seat."
I did.
I thought about correcting his use of my maiden name, but I was tired and frightened. The woman I'd been that morning, Mrs. Biers - a happy woman with good things in her future - seemed as though she'd never existed. I was back to being Alice Brandon. The mental patient.
"I might tell you, my dear lady," The captain began, "That there's quite a bit going on aboard my ship at the moment. The first officer has decided to contract influenza, we are facing an equinoctial gale short handed, and your imaginary husband has disappeared. Just to top things off."
The second officer began to snicker, then caught himself. Behind me, Demetri cleared his throat to politely signify disapproval, and I just stared through the captain. The same way I used to stare through the hospital director.
"I'm sorry," I finally said, "But there's nothing I can do for you about the weather."
"Yes, well," The captain cleared his throat, "During the course of this afternoon and evening, since you first reported your husband missing this afternoon, our Security Officer has interviewed every passenger aboard this ship, using your descriptions of this alleged husband to guide his investigation. Would you say that the security officer is an honourable man? Do you trust him when he says that all of the passengers are who they claim to be, and none are Mr. Riley Biers?"
I glanced over my shoulder at Demetri.
"Yes."
"Good. And is it satisfactory to you that the ship's purser has used every available spare crewman onboard to search for this husband of yours? The cooks, the stewards, anyone who was not necessary to prepare for the storm. Does this seem fair enough to you, Miss Brandon?"
I nodded.
"Please stop glowering at me like that," He sighed, "My second officer and one of my very best stewardesses - the only people who have supposedly seen this man - have no memory of him. The purser reports no stowaways, no injured parties, and no corpses stuffed into cupboards. Or anything else along those lines. There are no unaccounted for parties aboard this ship. And I'm sure you can appreciate our difficulty in seeing a man who does not exist."
I nodded again.
The captain pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned forward.
"I'm not trying to be cruel or unreasonable, you understand…"
"Perhaps," The second officer chimed in, "If the lady could offer us some proof of Mr. Biers's existence?"
"Proof?" I asked, shaking my head tiredly.
"You must be travelling on a husband-and-wife passport," The captain suggested, "Perhaps you could produce that for us to look at?"
"No," I said, "There wasn't time to get one. We're travelling on our own passports. We eloped."
"Well…" The captain smiled, obviously trying to be generous, "That does happen from time to time. Perhaps there's someone in America who can confirm your story? We can get in touch through radio telephone, you know."
"Your parents?" The second officer suggested, "His parents, maybe?"
"Her parents are dead," Demetri answered for me, "She never met her husband's family."
"Do you have any other relatives? A guardian?" The captain asked.
"I have a sister I haven't spoken to in four years. My guardian was a trust company."
"Ah."
"Well," Demetri said, taking the chair beside me, "Somebody must have performed the ceremony. A parson? A justice of the peace?"
"Yes! Of course!" I smiled, "The judge!"
"Good." Demetri nodded, and there was a sense of relief on all sides.
"What was the name of the town you were married in?" The captain asked, taking a pen and pad of paper from the other side of his desk.
"I don't remember." I confessed, so quietly I was certain that I'd said it.
"You…" Demetri seemed to falter for the first time, "You don't remember where you were married?"
Just then, a noise like thunder split the room, as an enormous wave crashed against the side of the ship. A few things slid around, but I was surprised that the majority of furniture was bolted in place. Still, I wasn't used to being at sea and I was nearly tossed from my chair.
"How's the glass looking, Felix?" The captain asked the second officer, straightening the stacks papers that had scattered on his desk.
"Barometer's rising, sir. The weather won't hold long, but we'll be in fog before morning."
The captain nodded.
"Now, Miss Brandon," He said, "The name of the town? You say you can't recall it?"
"I'm sorry. It was one of those little towns in upstate New York, the kind that takes five minutes to drive through. I didn't even get a good look at the sign. One of the ones that specialize in marrying couples at a moment's notice. And Riley… kept hold of the certificate. I don't know where it would be."
"I see." The captain nodded.
"I haven't been well," I tried to explain, "Sometimes I don't notice things that I ought to. I'm sorry."
"No, no," The captain stood up, "It's quite alright."
He went to a little string that hung alongside the door frame and gave it a tug. Somewhere, not too far off, a bell rang.
"You think I'm crazy," I said, "I don't know why your second officer is lying, or why that stewardess is lying. I don't know where Riley has gone or what's happened to him. I'm frightened and confused and all you do is push me away because you think I'm crazy."
Looks were exchanged between the three men in the room. Looks I didn't care particularly to observe or interpret.
"I don't think you're crazy," The captain said, "I think that you're overwrought. The situation is difficult to interpret. It is not one we've faced before."
The door opened, and the blonde stewardess from before looked at the captain expectantly.
"Please take Miss Brandon to her cabin," He told her, "And don't hesitate to send for Dr. Cullen if she needs him."
I followed the stewardess out into the hall and the office door was shut behind us, but I could still hear the voices of the men inside talking.
"She firmly believes in this husband of hers." The captain said.
"A lot of people firmly believe that they're Napoleon, sir." Replied the first officer.
[#]
Four o'clock in the morning. The hour of suicides and nightmares. The gale had subsided, the sea was calm, and the S.S. Arcadia crept blindly along through a thick and strangling fog at barely eight knots. The world outside the window seemed strangely bright and clean. Moonlight reflected off the mist, the same way it would a snowfall in winter. Sealed in by the silvery darkness, the ship slept.
I was stretched out on one of the berths in cabin B-16, still in the summer dress I'd worn for nearly twenty-four hours. Still with my shoes on. I was exhausted, but I felt like I was waiting for something.
I didn't know what.
The phone rang. It was quieter than the ring of other phones, probably to avoid disturbing too many passengers. After the first ring, I wondered if I'd heard it at all, or if it was just my imagination. When it rang the second time, I picked it up and answered.
"Hello?"
"Alice? Alice, darling?"
"Riley!" I gasped, happy and confused, "Riley, where are you?"
"Stay calm," He said, "Keep your voice down…"
"Are you hurt? What's happened to you?"
"No, I'm not hurt. But he nearly got me."
"Who nearly got you? Riley, what's going on?"
"Alice, I can't explain over the phone," He said, "And it's not safe for me to come to you. Can you meet me up on deck?"
"Of course," I nodded eagerly, "Which one?"
"Do you know the boat deck?" Riley asked.
"Which one is that?"
"The top deck, where all the lifeboats are slung."
"Yes," I said, "I know that one."
"Go to the starboard side," He told me, "That's the right-hand side facing forward. Find the fourth lifeboat from the aft companionway - Alice, I have to go. Hurry!"
"Riley?" I said, "Riley, what is it? Just tell me what's going on."
The next thing I heard was a click and silence.
I got up from the bed and smoothed the front of my dress. There was a knock at the cabin door, and barely a pause before it opened. The blonde stewardess. She stood there for a moment, and looked me over.
"I thought I heard voices in here." She said.
"What are you doing walking around at this hour?" I demanded. After all, she was one of the people who claimed they'd never seen Riley. She was part of all of whatever was going on.
"I could ask you the same thing," She replied, "A strange time to be getting ready to go out."
"Please get out of my way."
"Where could you possibly want to go?" She stepped cautiously towards me, "It's so late, and it's been such a long day. Why don't you just relax, and I'll call Dr. Cullen to mix you something to help you sleep."
"No," I said defiantly, "You're trying to keep me from my husband. You know that he's looking for me. You're part of all of this, you and that… that second officer. You're trying to make me think that I've lost my mind…"
"Miss Brandon, if you don't calm down…"
She stepped towards me again, and I slapped her across the face. I was frantic and afraid. She crumpled away from the blow, crashing into the door that led to the washroom. I took the opportunity as soon as it came, and raced out the door into the corridor.
As quickly as I could, I ran towards the waiting elevator and slammed the grate shut behind me. The stewardess was right on my heels; she wrapped her hands around the thin bars just as I closed it.
"You can't go up there!" She warned, "The fog makes it very dangerous. You don't understand. Why don't you come back to your cabin and lie down?"
I glared at her one last time before pulling the lever.
I watched her face, filled with icy contempt, slip away as the elevator ascended.
She'd told the truth about one thing, at least. The fog on deck was impossibly thick. I could barely see my own hand out in front of me. I found the railing that wound around the edges of the deck, but it seemed more flimsy in the uncertainty of the pale darkness. There was no sound, except a very distant fog horn and the strange splashes and gulps of the restless ocean below.
I tried to follow Riley's directions, but I was confused and uncertain. I didn't know enough about sailing, and couldn't remember half of the things he'd said.
And then, his voice. Piercing through the shroud like a dagger.
"Alice! Alice!"
"Riley!" I called back, "Riley, I'm here!"
A hand reached out through the fog and pulled me on, a shadowy figure leading me along, until there was no more railing to guide us.
"What's going on?" I asked, "Where have you been?"
He stopped, and turned. He looked frightened, panicked. Different, somehow, from the man of only a day before. But most definitely Riley. Real. Flesh and blood standing in front of me.
"Quiet," He snapped at me, "Do you hear that?"
I listened. But there was nothing to be heard except the drum of the water against the side of the boat, and the faint whir of propellers below.
"I don't hear anything…"
"Quiet!"
Then, the beams of two large searchlights blinked on. They were pointed right at us. I could make out that we were standing towards the very back end of the ship, lifeboats swinging precariously nearby. Riley had something in his hands, something that looked almost like a heavy chain.
"Stop!" A voice called from the other side of the lights, and Demetri stepped forward to where we could see him.
He was pointing a gun towards us.
"What are you doing?" I asked him, "This is Riley! This is my husband!"
"I'm afraid that's not true, Alice," Demetri said, "This man has been lying to you."
"What are you talking about?" I turned to Riley, "What does he mean?"
But Riley didn't speak, he just stared at Demetri with rage and fire in his eyes.
"Your husband has been busily arranging quite the crime."
"Crime? What crime?" I shook my head, "I don't understand."
"He was going to murder you," Demetri told me, plain as you like, looking at Riley while he spoke. "Riley Biers is a false identity. Our second officer did see someone ahead of you on the gangplank, and the stewardess remembered you walking through B deck with a man, but neither of them would dream of associating him with you, especially not as your husband. They saw a man they knew well. A ship's officer returning from shore leave in his civilian clothes. The man beside you is the first officer of the Arcadia."
A second figure emerged from behind Demetri. The ship's captain, with a familiar manila envelope in his hand.
"It's over, James," He said to the man I'd thought was Riley Biers, "I have Miss Brandon's money. We found it among your things."
Whatever the man beside me's name was, he began to move forward, swinging the heavy chain in his hand towards the captain. Demetri fired the revolver.
The bullet missed, but the sound had startled my husband enough that he tumbled backwards, caught up in the iron he was holding. The iron he had intended to weigh me down with. Drown me with. He fell backward into the water.
"Man overboard!" Came the calls, but even in the fog I could tell it was no good. Even without the chain, we were right by the ship's propellers.
There was a terrible scream.
I nearly collapsed, but Demetri caught me in his arms and held me to him.
"It's alright," He whispered, "It's alright."
The last thing I heard before falling into a faint was the captain's voice, saying:
"How the hell are we supposed to report this?"
[#]
James - the man I knew as Riley Biers - had served on the Arcadia for three years. He had a wife and child in England, and wasn't particularly well-liked among the crew, but was tolerated. Nobody had ever suspected he was capable of such a grand scheme as the one he devised to obtain my money. He'd known, casually, one of the attendants who'd worked at Plainsview for a short time. It was through this acquaintance that he first heard about me and my trust fund.
Seducing me into marrying him and into trusting him had turned out to be the easy part. The difficulty came when we were to board the Arcadia. As Demetri had told me, when Felix and Jane saw me walking with him, they both believed that he was escorting me around the ship. In fact, that's what he told every officer that interviewed him and part of the reason Demetri had begun to suspect him. At no time did I suggest that the first officer be interviewed about the whereabouts and existence of "Riley," despite the fact that he was supposed to have been with me at times when I claimed to have been accompanied by my husband.
When I'd gone to watch the ship pull out of harbour, and James had supposedly headed towards the purser's office, he'd changed into his uniform and reported for duty as usual. Only he insisted to the captain and doctor that he'd contracted a nasty case of the flu while ashore. He was put on rest, and largely ignored. This allowed him to avoid me for as long as he needed to.
He'd changed the number on cabin sixteen by slipping a card that said B-13 over top of it. That was fairly easy for him, and he was hoping that my anxiety about the disappearing cabin would help convince his shipmates that I was unbalanced. Then he would contribute to the idea that I had dreamed up my own husband, and ultimately he would stage the murder as a suicide.
But he'd made one other mistake. He'd known too much about the Arcadia herself. His directions to me had always been flawless and far too specific for a man who hadn't sailed aboard the ship many times before. That was the clue that Demetri had convinced the captain with, and it was ultimately the clue that saved my life.
It was difficult to continue on to England, though I didn't have much choice.
Demetri and I have kept in touch, mostly through letters, and I've spent the last few years exploring Europe. But every now and again, I catch a glimpse of the Ocean on a foggy night and I wonder what might have been, if he had gotten away with it all.
I wonder.