Chapter 1
"Come here, Lil. Take a look at this."
Lily Drake caught the wadded-up brochure her best friend tossed over to her. It was a lovely September morning in 1970. The girls were waiting outside Lily's father's office. The lobby of the Paul Drake Detective Agency had both windows open, and the balmy Santa Ana wind blew Lily's curly blonde hair all around her face. Unfolding it, she scoffed incredulously.
"The Victoria Atlantis," she read.
"Go on," Dora Mason urged.
Lily sighed, opened the brochure, and read the "Voyage Description":
"Embark on a crystalline cruise on board the Victoria Atlantis, Great Britain's brand-new ocean liner. Disembark on the marvellous majestic waters of Maryland's charming Chesapeake Bay. Spend two wonderful weeks aboard the sharp ship before arriving at the Land of the Rose itself! After disembarking, explore the glorious cities of London and Manchester or try seizing upon your detective dexterity to solve the English Enigma. . ."
"Well?" Dora demanded. One could tell at a glance exactly who her parents were. Her looks matched no one but the formerly named Della Street—now Della Mason—and her personality, her "lawyer nature," perfectly paralleled her father, the famous attorney Perry Mason.
"Dora, this is ridiculous! Going on a cruise right now. . ."
"What's so ridiculous about it? We could all use a vacation. And here." Dora lightly tossed a small box over to Lily.
"Where the hell did you get these?"
"From my dad. His last client gave them to him. You remember—"
"Of course I do." The client had been British, of the "stinking rich" kind, and rumors had circulated that he was the hidden son of Queen Elizabeth herself. Personally, Lily had cared nothing for the case except. . .How could she forget? How could she forget when that cursed case had resulted in her barely seeing her father for two weeks straight from the way it had kept him working late? How could she forget all those nights of being alone in the apartment, too scared to sleep, starting at every ring of the telephone for fear that it would be the police saying her father was dead?
Seeing her best friend's expression, Dora pleaded, "Oh, Lily, do try to forget about that. Please. You know how hard my dad worked too, late at the office, and me and Mom—"
"He still wasn't gone nearly as much as my dad, and you know it. And you at least had your mom—"
The door suddenly swung open, and Lily's father breezed through. Paul took one look at the two girls and the particular fact that Lily seemed to be on the edge of tears and rushed over to her.
"Shh, shh. . ." Lily sobbed into his shoulder. "Baby, don't cry. Don't cry." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry."
She shook her head. "It's not your fault. It's just. . ."
"I know." The phone rang suddenly, preventing Paul from delivering his next remark. "Sorry, I have to get that. No telling how long Margo'll be home sick. . ." And he went off; a moment later she heard him pick up the telephone and answer, "Paul Drake Detective Agency."
Dora sighed. "Look, Lil, if you don't want to go, we don't have to. Dad said I could just give these away to some family who can't afford it. . ."
Lily glanced at her friend before returning her gaze to her father. After thinking it over for a few minutes, she decided to give in. "Okay," she replied.