Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 116, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 709 & 710, September/October 2000

In the busyness of these preparations, Vern buried the rest of his reservations and scruples. If it worried him once in a while to be relying so much on Sandy, well, he reminded himself that she adored him. Besides, he was going to be a new person, too, with new possibilities, no debts, and a very nice chunk of money. He told himself that he could make this scheme work, absolutely.

When everything was ready, Vern rehearsed the plans with Sandy, who listened without making any comment. When he was done, she remarked, “I’ve told my mother we’re engaged.”

“Good,” said Vern.

“She was pleased,” Sandy said, “after — you know.” She meant, of course, the Coast Guard officer, that mysterious married hunk whose name, occupation, and identity Vern had forgotten — if he’d ever known them.

“Sure. That’s great.” Considering her melancholy expression, Vern wondered if Sandy might rethink their marriage, though probably that was wishful thinking. “This will work. Everything will be fine.” He took her hand. “And listen, there’s a storm front coming in end of the week. Is that perfect?”

Sandy gave a little half-smile. “I guess,” she said.

The front arrived Thursday, right on schedule, and, at first, blew up such wind that Vern was worried the Sound would be too rough. It wouldn’t do to look suicidal with a million-dollar policy at stake. Eight hours later, the storm had begun to track east northeast, and the high winds lightened, leaving cloud and rough water behind. Vern called Sandy and alerted his friend Norm, who had a nice little boat shed up on a very small, quiet creek.

This boat shed was the ultimate destination of Lively Lady, and once she was safely moored, Vern took his phony papers and his newly dyed hair and got himself first to Montreal and hence to Quebec City. There he switched on the motel cable and watched a big green and yellow blob devour the East Coast.

Some poor sucker in a rain parka was doing a standup on the Rhode Island shore. Rain spotted the camera lens and sluiced down his face as he went on about gale-force winds and thirty-foot seas. The storm had changed track at the very last minute. Couldn’t have been better for Lively Lady’s disappearance, thought. Vern. Couldn’t have been better.

A couple of hours later, he tuned in again to the news that a fishing boat out of Nantucket had capsized, a surfer had drowned off Newport, and a private yacht was overdue out of Stonington. The seas were so brutal even the Coast Guard boats were having trouble. It would be no surprise at all if a boat like Lively Lady were lost forever.

This was absolutely perfect, and in his excitement Vern called Sandy early. He let the phone ring twice, hung up, called again, let it ring three times, hung up, and waited for her to go to the convenience store pay phone and call him back.

He went through this routine a dozen times over the next three days before he finally got the call. In the meantime, waiting dulled his excitement and sharpened a latent vein of anxiety.

“Vern?” She sounded tired and upset. “Vern?”

“Victor, darling. Please remember not to call me Vern.”

A silence. Ominous.

“Is everything okay? We couldn’t have asked for more from the storm. A boat can sink in a blow like that and never be found. Perfects, eh?”

“Ideal,” Sandy said, but her voice had a strange, flat, shocked quality as if all the electricity had gone out of the line.

“So what’s the problem? Insurance will be in your face, sure, but you’ve just got to be tough. They’re not going to have the ghost of a complaint.”

“It’s more than that,” Sandy said, and Vern could hear tears. “One of the rescue ships got into trouble. They lost a man and another was hurt. I was on the beach that afternoon. I was the one who told them you were out. It’s all so bad, Vern.”

“Well, shit, Sandy, that’s tough, but don’t take it personally. I mean, they’d have been out anyway, wouldn’t they? It’s their job to be out. Fishing boats, windsails, yachts, surfers. I’m sure it wasn’t just Lively Lady on the water.”

“You didn’t see the waves. I told them you were lost, and a lot of extra people went out, and now everyone’s angry,” she said. “The police say they’re going to look into your finances. They don’t really believe—”

“Listen,” said Vern firmly, “they’re paid to be suspicious.”

Silence.

“Of course you’re upset. Of course you are.” And thank God for that, Vern thought. Upset was good. Plausible, believable. As long as Sandy didn’t go overboard on the guilt thing. “If you weren’t upset, it would look pretty funny, wouldn’t it?” Vern went on in this vein as the silence got longer and longer. “They can’t touch you,” he said. “Keep your mouth shut and they can’t touch you. There’s not the slightest proof. You want us to get married, don’t you? You want us to get the money?”