Haunted Destiny

by Heather Graham

  Alexi gave her and the others a wave, collected her tote bag and headed for the Algiers Saloon with Johnny.

  People were already filling the tables.

  For the most part, it seemed that even the passengers had gotten accustomed to the rough seas. They’d learned to walk, sit and chat with the water rolling beneath them.

  She greeted everyone, then sat down at the piano bench. As usual, Roger came in, finding a seat close to the piano. And Hank came in, as well, taking a chair at the same table.

  Neither of the men had come with their ladies.

  Alexi couldn’t help wondering what, if anything, that meant.

  * * *

  “We could lose connection with him at any time, so I’ve taken notes while I was waiting for you.”

  Tom Vance was First Communications Officer for the ship; he’d been the one to finally make contact with Capitan Suarez in Cozumel.

  “We are doing our best to follow through on your request, but you must understand the conditions under which we have been working,” Suarez said, once Jude, Jackson, Captain Thorne and David Beach were gathered in the control room. The amount of static made him difficult to hear. “We had a number of emergencies to cope with first.”

  “I’ve been in storms,” Jackson said. “I understand.”

  “But we did find her,” Suarez said, and he sounded ill as he spoke. “We found her, Maria Sanchez. In San Jose’s, a small church not far from the docks. It took some doing. The church was heavily battered and damaged by the storm. She...she was beneath a piece of fallen timber and rescue workers did not find her right away because the padre had been injured in the rectory and...”

  Jude wasn’t sure at first if the man’s voice had faded away or been overpowered by the static on the line.

  Then Suarez spoke again.

  “She was laid out, her arms folded over her chest. She looked as though she was asleep, except that her throat had been slit. And there was a medallion on her chest, just as you said there might be. It has been identified for us as representing St. Lawrence.”

  Jude nodded. “Patron saint of chefs,” he murmured.

  “Yes.” Suarez went on. “I don’t know how or when she was taken. She returned home after the explosion. You may recall that I spoke with her. The morgue is overcrowded right now, but our medical examiner is working on her remains. We don’t know if she was killed soon after the explosion or if the ship had already left the dock. I’m sorry. It is impossible for me to tell whether your Archangel remains in Mexico or has created a copycat killer here. Or perhaps he has sailed with you and is on the Destiny now. I did not really believe you gentlemen when you claimed that the killer would be in Cozumel. It is a mistake I will not forget for the rest of my days. Maria was...she was so important to us. She was a shining light...”

  Jude remembered the woman he had met so briefly; he remembered the way she’d looked at him, doubting that this killer would have come on a cruise ship from America—and that he could have been after her. He understood how Capitan Suarez felt about this tragic loss. “Capitan Suarez,” Jude said, “we cannot tell you how very sorry we are.”

  “As Americans, we can’t convey our apologies enough,” Jackson added.

  “No country is responsible,” Suarez said. “We do not blame the government or the police forces of our northern neighbor. You made every effort. I blame myself. I should have gone to her house and I should have stayed there until the ship sailed.” He paused briefly, and Jude could hear the crackling on the line. “We are picking up the pieces now. You can imagine the damage from the storm. We lost several people, some because they were poor, some because they did not heed the warnings. We are all scurrying here, trying to find others who may have survived and need rescuing, but this... Do you believe that this man has left with you? Is there any reason to suspect that a copycat might exist? That such a killer may still be here, in Mexico?”

  “We have no guarantees, Capitan,” Jude said. “But it is my sincere belief that there is just one killer—and that he’s now back on the Destiny.”

  The radio suddenly went dead.

  Jude felt a deep anger as the sense of loss swept through him. He turned to Captain Thorne. “Sir, you didn’t want to believe us. There is a killer on this ship. He has now killed in Mexico. It’s time to warn the passengers.”

  “I can’t have a panic!” Thorne responded.

  “We’re in the middle of a major storm, one I know you will navigate to the best of your ability—but panic? You’re afraid of warning your female passengers when it’s now evident that a killer is almost certainly aboard?” Jackson set a hand on Jude’s shoulder.

  “Captain, you do need to communicate the truth to your passengers and staff,” Jude said.

  “The government does not own the Destiny!” Thorne protested. “Have you ever seen panic on a cruise ship? I have, and it’s not pretty. It results in multiple injuries—and sometimes death.”

  “Captain Thorne,” Jude said, carefully keeping his temper under control and his voice level. “You have to tell people what’s happened. You have to warn the women on this ship not to go off with men they don’t know and not to be alone on this vessel. You have your security staff in place. You’ve lost one, probably to this killer. We can only assume he was thrown overboard. If you don’t do something now, your actions will be the height of irresponsibility, and any more deaths on this ship will be on your head.”

  “Damn it, Captain Thorne!” David Beach suddenly exploded. “Will you listen to them? I’ve lost one of my men and now we know that a Mexican woman is dead. I’m good at my job—damned good! But it’s impossible for us to watch every person on this ship and to keep an eye on the suspects, especially with this storm. For the love of God, listen to them!”

  Thorne inhaled on a long breath and then exhaled. “If there’s a panic when I make this announcement, it’s on you,” he said, staring at Jude and then Jackson.

  “Really? Then let me do the speaking,” Jude said.

  “Of course not! That’s preposterous!” the captain thundered.

  “Not at all,” Jude told him. “You want to avoid a panic, so I’ll do the talking. You see, your very fear of a panic might cause one. Since I don’t intend to create a panic—and I do intend to make sure people are extremely careful, I’ll manage the task better than you will.”

  * * *

  “Hank!” Alexi said, her fingers idle over the keys. She figured she might as well speak to Hank and to Roger as she normally did. “Where is that lovely young lady you’ve been seeing?”

  “Asleep!” he replied, grinning. “But you know me. I can’t stay away from the piano bar.”

  “That’s because you have a great singing voice, my friend,” Alexi said. “So, what are you in the mood for tonight? Broadway, classics, blues?”

  Minnie and Blake lounged against the piano, watching the crowd.

  “His voice isn’t that good,” Minnie said. “And if he’s so in love with that girl, why is he leaving her by herself? Blake would never leave me,” she added, giving Blake a smile and an adoring look.

  “Never,” Blake agreed passionately.

  “Alexi,” Minnie wheedled, “I realize they’re going to do whatever they do these days, but throw in some Billie Holiday for me, please?”

  Alexi ignored her ghosts and handed the mic to Hank Osprey. “Whatever your pleasure, Mr. Osprey.”

  “‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes’!” Hank suggested.

  Despite Minnie’s comment on Hank’s voice, Alexi thought he did a nice job with the number. “Thank you, thank you!” she said, leading the applause that followed. “What a smooth voice,” she commented. She turned quickly to Roger next. “Another guys’ night out, huh? Where’s the lovely Lorna?”

  “Sleeping, too,” Roger said, taking the mic
. “She sends you her best, by the way.”

  “Thank you, sir. Now what will you be doing for us this evening? Folks, another brilliant man who ruled the business world for years, all the while hiding a fantastic tenor voice!” she said, calling for applause as Roger stood to sing, smiling and pleased.

  Maybe he’s always wanted to do nothing but sing!

  He graced them with a Tom Petty number, done very well. But it was while Roger was singing that Alexi saw the ghost of Byron Grant standing just near the tables at the far end of the Algiers Saloon. At first, she thought he wanted to talk to her, but then she realized that he wasn’t watching her; he was studying the men who surrounded the piano bar.

  She found herself wishing the night would end.

  Thankfully, within the next ten minutes, Clara arrived, along with other members of the Les Miz cast. They began singing, and despite the pitch and roll of the Destiny, it seemed that everyone in the piano bar was having a good time.

  Then the little bell sounded, announcing that someone was going to come on the PA system.

  Alexi stopped playing; everyone waited. She expected the captain to speak.

  But the voice that came over on the loudspeaker wasn’t the captain’s; it was Jude’s.

  “Good evening, everyone. This is Jude McCoy for Celtic American Cruise Lines. It’s time for everyone except essential personnel to return to their cabins and remain there. This is a safety measure. And while we feel that we have some of the best security officers on the face of the earth, we also believe it’s critical that we report all news regarding our ports of call. Because of our strong belief in communication, we feel we need to advise you that a murder took place in Cozumel at the time our ship was docked there. Authorities believe it might be connected to the explosion at Señora Maria’s restaurant. Sadly, the victim was the owner, Señora Maria. While we don’t want to cause our passengers undue stress, we do want everyone to be on the alert, which is something most of us don’t think about on a beautiful vacation. Let’s face it, the weather’s put a damper on this cruise to begin with—no pun intended. Cozumel is struggling to deal with the damage caused by Dinah, so the police haven’t been able to investigate this incident, and the Mexican authorities are warning all ships that were in port on the day of the murder. Therefore, we’re going to ask all our female passengers in particular—especially those traveling on their own—to be careful. We have security officers available on every deck, watching doorways. But if you’re walking to your cabin alone and would like an escort, don’t hesitate to ask. Now, back to the storm... As you all know, Dinah has been completely unpredictable. She moved south, preventing us from moving north. She’s just taken a southward turn. We’re still ahead of her, and tomorrow, we’ll make an announcement about the safety of venturing out of your cabins. You’re sailing with one of the most capable and experienced captains anywhere, and I have no doubt that all will be well. Still, any security measures we take are for your safety. Thank you. I know it’s a bit early, but we’re asking all our passengers to call it a night.”

  Alexi sat at the piano, stunned.

  Clara looked at her and shivered. “We were there,” she whispered. “We were at Señora Maria’s restaurant.”

  Alexi nodded. She was surprised that Jude hadn’t told her about the murder.

  But then she realized he hadn’t known—until recently. That was why he’d been called away.

  “Okay, folks! Last call. Feel free to take your drinks to your rooms,” the bartender said.

  Voices rose as everyone began to discuss the announcement; some people were obviously afraid.

  Some were annoyed.

  “Well, what do you think of that?” Roger wondered aloud, looking at Alexi and Clara where they sat at the piano.

  Alexi didn’t want to answer. She smiled at Roger and spoke into the mic. “Well, you heard the powers that be, people. Thank you so much, as always, for being with me. And whether I like it or not, I’m afraid I’m not considered essential crew.”

  There were a few good-natured protests, and she smiled.

  She went into the song “Closing Time,” and everyone joined in.

  By the time she’d finished, most of the passengers had gotten their last drinks.

  “Hope to see you all tomorrow!” Hank said, waving good-night.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, shall we?” She turned in surprise. Johnny was there—to see the crew members down to their cabins.

  Especially her and Clara.

  Alexi covered the piano, and her group gathered together to head down the stairs.

  “We were at the restaurant. I’m the one who said we should go there,” Ralph said, shaking his head. “I never met Señora Maria, but...how terrible.”

  “So,” Simon said, “someone was out to get the poor woman. That must be why there was that explosion.”

  “They tried to blow her up!” Larry shuddered. “Scary! Hey, do you think they’re making us go to our cabins because of the storm—or because that woman was murdered?”

  Clara shrugged. “I just hope we get tomorrow off.”

  “Oh, I doubt we’ll be off,” Ralph said. “They can’t keep people in their cabins all day. Everyone has to eat.”

  Simon laughed. “Maybe they’ll have us delivering food.”

  “Ouch! So much for fame and fortune,” Ralph murmured.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” Larry asked Alexi. “I mean, you’re McCoy’s...liaison, right?”

  Alexi let his tone—and the word liaison—go without comment. Apparently, they still believed Jude was with the cruise lines. And that she was sleeping with a bigwig.

  Well, she was sleeping with him.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I really don’t. I wish I did.”

  “Should we all hang together?” Simon asked.

  “Oh, guys, I’m exhausted!” Clara said. “I’m going to lock myself in and sleep—and worry about the storm and everything else tomorrow morning.”

  “And I’m betting Alexi will have company at some point,” Simon put in.

  “I have a bottle of single malt scotch and I’m willing to share,” Ralph offered. “The three of us can whine about our careers for a while.”

  “Everyone inside,” said Johnny, who’d been following them.

  “You got somewhere to go, Johnny?” Ralph asked.

  “Oh, no, sir, I’ll be here all night.”

  Clara glanced at Alexi and said softly, “I’ll be in my cabin. Sleeping, I hope.”

  Alexi knew that Clara would wait until she and Jude knocked on her door in the morning before she left her cabin again.

  “Well, then, good night, all,” Alexi said, and escaped into her cabin.

  She waited. She showered. She paced.

  At last, she went to bed. She was tired, so tired that even with her mind flying, she eventually drifted off.

  Then Jude knocked on the door and called her name. When she let him in, he pulled her into his arms and just held her.

  She knew he was tired and tense and worried. He opened his mouth to talk and then shook his head. “I would’ve told you,” he said. “Suarez finally managed to reach us. He’s the Mexican police captain in Cozumel.”

  “I heard,” she said. She swallowed painfully. “That means the killer really is on the ship, doesn’t it? The Archangel is on our ship.”

  “I’m convinced he’s one of our four suspects. We have officers on them constantly, but...well, the missing security guard is still missing.”

  “You’re exhausted. You have to get some rest,” she insisted.

  He nodded, stripping down to his briefs. She crawled into her bed, and he crawled in beside her. He was distracted, but it seemed that he needed to hold her.

  They just lay together. She wasn’t sur
e if he drifted off or if they both did. She wasn’t sure if he touched her and instigated their lovemaking, or if she’d touched him first.

  There were moments of bliss. As they held each other, Alexi felt she’d found an island of strength in a tempestuous sea.

  And she never wanted to leave.

  14

  While most communication was down, the cabin-to-cabin phone service was working fine.

  Jude woke very early to the ringing of Alexi’s cabin phone. She was still asleep so he grabbed it quickly. “Hello?”

  It was Jackson. “Security’s in place,” he said, “and the captain’s staying ahead of the storm. He’s moving north now, around the edge of Dinah. If we’re lucky, by the end of today we’ll be heading for port, either in the central Gulf or along the Florida coast. He’s allowing passengers access to shops and restaurants during the day. All ship-run activities will be in the Egyptian Room, dinner served as usual—but there’ll be a ten o’clock curfew this evening. I’m in our office, reviewing the information we have, working on the Mexican angle. The explosion, which I’m now positive was planned and somehow executed by the Archangel, created a lot of confusion. And of course that meant we lost visual contact with the suspects.”

  “Yeah,” Jude said. “And if we had access to computers or even some way of getting in touch with the home office, we’d have a better handle on who could have rigged the kitchen to explode like that.”

  “In such a way that the experts couldn’t ascertain with any assurance whether it was accidental or deliberate,” Jackson added. “At any rate, David Beach has just rotated his people. They’re working twelve-hour shifts until we get to port. The best solution for the day, I believe, is probably to arrange for Clara and Alexi to get involved in whatever activities are going on in the Egyptian Room. That’ll put them in a public place, with lots of protection—and witnesses—around. If you can see to that and then join me here, we can go over what we do know and try to figure out who might’ve been able to rig the explosion and then get to Maria Sanchez, kill her and deposit her body in the church before we left port.”