How I longed to hear the tapping of his keys now, but his precious typewriter had fallen silent since Cristóbal’s disappearance, six torturous days ago. Had he thought about his novel in those last moments, about the fact that he would never finish it?

What I wouldn’t give to trip over his boots in the dark.

Yes, my mother had been right about men. You only appreciated their virtues after they were gone.

Straightening my back, I knocked on the captain’s door.

I’d never met a British person with a tan as deep as Captain Blake’s.

“Mrs. Lafont, please come in.”

By now, we’d become well acquainted with each other, but he still seemed reluctant to look me in the eye. He was the kind of man who was perfectly comfortable among other men, but terribly shy around women.

“How is the investigation going, Captain?”

“I’m glad you came, Mrs. Lafont, I wanted to talk to you about that. But please, have a seat.” He pointed at an ochre leather sofa in front of the desk. A distinctive scent of tobacco permeated the room.

I obeyed. “Did you find out who that man was?”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am.” He sat behind the cluttered desk; one side of his face partially covered by a globe. “We haven’t found a record of anybody that matches your description of that man. In fact”—his ears turned slightly red—“I’ve decided to close down the investigation and rule your husband’s death as an accident.”

“An accident? What do you mean?” I gripped the armrest. “I told you a man attacked me! Cristóbal was only trying to defend me!”

“And I believe you, ma’am, no need to raise your voice. But I’m afraid that with the lack of evidence I can’t do much. This investigation has already taken so much of my time and I have a ship to run and hundreds of passengers to tend to.”

“This is ridiculous. You’re going to lie, in writing, because it’s easier and more convenient for you?”

“I’m not lying. Unfortunately, there’s no evidence to prove me wrong.”

“Is there anyone else who can take over this investigation? The authorities in Ecuador?”

“No, ma’am, this is a British ship, with British jurisdiction, so the investigation should be handled by British authorities. If the . . . incident had happened after we arrived in Ecuador, then they could handle it.”

“Are you saying that I have to go all the way back to Europe to find my husband’s killer? That’s nonsense.”

“You’re welcome to file a claim with the British Consulate in Guayaquil and hire a barrister that may represent your interests in Britain.”

In Britain? How were they going to find Cristóbal’s murderer all the way there?

“I didn’t invent that man, Captain, he was real. He knew my first name.”