Death In A Deck Chair

by Georgia Kains

  My stomach sank. I didn’t want the murderer to be anyone on the crew, especially anyone in the Goode-Tripp family. I liked them. All of them. But they had a huge stake in that footage never coming to light. If the murderer were someone in their family, it also meant that I couldn’t trust any of them with this evidence.

  Gingerly, I examined the bottle, unsure what to do. My fingerprints were already on the plastic, but I didn’t want to risk erasing any prints or evidence that the killer might have left on it. I could wrap it in some of the lost-and-found clothes, take it to my room, and hide it there. But the killer was already on my trail. If this piece of evidence went missing, and they discovered I had it, I’d be a dead woman for sure.

  Reluctantly, I tucked the bottle back where I’d found it. I’d tell the investigators about it as soon as we arrived home.

  I returned the key to the info desk, which was vacant. Jenna had left her laptop open, and my hand bumped against the mouse. The screen sprang to life. A spa equipment website popped up. The arrow hovered over a warning box that listed out all the chemical properties and safety cautions for self-tanning spray.

  Hmm. She was probably on the site to figure out how to fix the tanning booth or find a company who could.

  Still. That was an odd thing to have Jenna research. It seemed like the sort of thing maintenance would manage. Curious, I checked to make sure there were no witnesses, then my hand maybe, sort of accidentally brushed across the browser’s back button.

  It switched to a page with a video showing the correct way to apply a pedicure. I scrolled down and found another set of warnings and safety precautions, this time for acetone nail polish remover. If ingested … slurred speech … dizziness … confusion … coma …

  Death.

  Okay, calm down. This was a coincidence. Surely. It meant nothing. This was Jenna we were talking about. Sunny, cheerful Jenna. I was about to hit the back button again. My hand trembled, lest it open to a page on, I don’t know, How To Kill An Annoying Celebutante, and the screen snapped shut, almost crushing my fingers in the process.

  If it were possible for any color to drain out of my Oompa Loompa cheeks, it did so. Jenna stood directly in front of me. The ever-present smile was still glued to her face, but it had taken on a manic fervor, a life of its own.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. Did I detect a note of panic in her voice?

  “I … nothing.”

  Okay, maybe I could come around to the fact that a crew member had killed Bebe. But sweet Jenna? She seemed so innocent and gentle. Then again, it could all be an act.

  “I was returning the key,” I said.

  “And that involved looking at my computer?”

  “Your computer? I wasn’t looking at any computer. I … no. I was leaving you a note.”

  “A note?” She crossed her arms tightly.

  “Yes! A note.” I fumbled around on the desk for pen and paper. Nothing. “But I’ll just tell you since you’re here.”

  “Okay.”

  “Mm hmm.” My head bounced up and down.

  “And what is it?”

  “Hmm?”

  “The message.” Her eyes narrowed. “That you were going to leave the note about?”

  “Oh. Yes. Umm.” The note. The nonexistent note. My head kept bouncing while my brain scrambled. “The noise. It’s still making the noise.”

  “The noise?”

  “In my cabin. The kathunk.”

  “Oh.” Her face went neutral. Was that relief? Had she thought I suspected her but now she bought my story? Or was that still suspicion?

  “I don’t know if Silas explained how the waste pump works in detail,” she said, “but there’s nothing we can do about the sound. I thought he told you that when he sent you here for earplugs. I can give you a fresh pair, but it should be less noticeable now that we’re moving again.”

  “No. That’s okay. I simply wanted to make sure you were aware of the situation. The situation … that you guys already told me about.”

  “Well, thank you,” she said. “I will make a note that you informed me of that information … the information that was already shared with you.”

  “Thanks.” I backed away.

  “No problem. And Piper?” Her expression was totally blank. Dang if that girl wouldn’t be a good Texas Hold ‘Em partner.

  “Yes?” I gulped.

  She patted her closed laptop.

  “I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us.”

  “But I didn’t see—”

  “Between. Us.” Her eyes went wide as her voice rang with a sharp finality.

  Foreboding tingles spread through my spine. Wordlessly, I nodded and skittered out the door.

  Well, I couldn’t exactly put that one as a point in the ol’ Nancy Drew column. Except now I had seen with my own eyes that Jenna had the info she would have needed to carry out the attack against Bebe. And me.

  And I’d witnessed a side of her that downright shocked me. Until now, she’d been so agreeable and helpful and nice, but that look was anything but nice. Her words from earlier popped into my brain—I’d do anything for my family. I thought she meant swabbing the deck or dealing with whiny passengers.

  Maybe she meant killing its critics.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “I should call this ‘the Piper’ from now on.” Karl the bartender laughed as he shot seltzer into an empty glass, topped it with a twist of lime, and handed it to me. “If you want, I could put some sugar in it and turn it into a limeade.”

  “Very funny.” Not that I could argue with him. It had officially become my usual on this trip. I’d probably lost five pounds by not drinking any of my calories.

  I was sitting on the same stool where I’d witnessed Bebe’s final tirade before she swallowed that fateful poison. At the time, I’d taken her drunken threats as merely obnoxious, but obviously someone had been threatened enough by them to silence her.

  “Karl, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll even let you ask another one.”

  “I—oh. Yeah, you’re on a roll there. Have long have you worked on this ship?”

  “Two and a half years. Why?”

  “I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but on previous trips, was Bebe always as, umm … ”

  “Awful?” He peered around before he answered, even though we were the only two people in the room.

  “I was going to say, ‘evil,’ but yeah.”

  “Yep.”

  “Had she ever gone off on an insulting rant about the cruise line before?”

  “She was always harsh, if that’s what you mean.”

  Hmm. So it wasn’t like she had suddenly become a cruise critic, which would seem to work in the Goode-Tripp family’s favor. They knew what to expect from her. But if their business had slowly been dying and Bebe’s videos threatened to drive the final nail in the coffin, maybe one of them had snapped.

  I got a refill on my lime water (man, my thoroughly hydrated skin was going to love me after this trip … except for the orange part). I was at a loss as to what to do next, where to go, who to question. Any ability to go unnoticed by my fellow passengers had flown overboard. I looked like a slice of pumpkin bread that had been left in the toaster.

  “You got those coasters for me? Hey, thanks,” Karl said to someone behind me.

  “You’re welcome.” Jenna scurried behind the counter, toting a big cardboard box. A box that probably came from the cargo hold. She knew I had just been down there. Had I put the nail polish remover in the exact same spot? Could she tell it had been moved? But then that was assuming that she was the one who had put it there. That was a still a huge jump of logic.

  I lifted the water to my mouth, but my hand trembled, knocking the glass against my teeth as liquid sloshed over the side.

  “Hey, Piper.” Jenna placed a paper coaster in front of me. She had that glint in her eye again. Determined.

  Or demented?
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  “Hi, Jenna.” I gulped and kept my gaze trained in front of me as I laid my glass on the counter. Quick as the blazes, she jerked her hand forward, knocking the glass over. The water spilled over and gushed into my lap. I gasped as the icy splash ran down my legs.

  “Oh, my goodness,” cried Jenna in a voice as fake as a pair of seven dollar Pradas. “I’m so sorrrrry. Karl, could you run and grab me some towels out by the pool?”

  “Sure thing.”

  He rounded the corner of the bar as I stammered, “No problem, don’t worry, no big deal.”

  Don’t leave me.

  “Oh, and if we’re out of towels at the pool”—she winked at me, oh my gosh, she winked at me—“there’s a load finishing in the dryers.”

  “No, Karl, you don’t have to go to that trouble. Don’t worry about—” But he’d already rushed out of the room.

  Do not leave me with this devious mastermind.

  Jenna strode over and locked the door behind him.

  “The … the towels.” My voice came out a croak.

  “They’re halfway through the cycle,” she said, a satisfied smirk on her face. “He won’t be back for quite a while. And that gives me plenty of time.”

  “Time for what?” I grabbed a spoon off the counter so I could … defend myself? I had no idea what I’d do with it, but somehow I felt a tiny bit safer with something in my hand. I curled my other hand around the empty glass. I could throw it at her if all else failed.

  “I meant what I said to you the other day.” She put her hand in her pocket, and an object bulged out of it. A metal object. A gun-shaped object.

  “What do you mean?” I needed to keep her preoccupied so I could grab the gun.

  “About doing anything for my family,” she said. “Anything.”

  I tried to respond, but the only thing that came out was an eep.

  “Doc told me about your little accident,” said Jenna. “In the tanning booth. It was really unfortunate.”

  Her gaze swept over my body, and she wasn’t able to mask her revulsion. Of course, I’d been getting that look from every person who’d seen me this afternoon, so I was kind of used to it. But combined with Jenna’s previous expression, it sent chills through me that had nothing to do with the ice cube lodged in my nether regions.

  “Accident?” I said. “I mean, yes. It was definitely an accident. I believe that it was an accident and am not going to cause any trouble, so you can just put away any concerns.” (And any guns).

  “I’m afraid I can’t just let it go.”

  My heart raced as I rubbed my palms, slick with sweat, against my shorts.

  “I promise I won’t say anything. You have my word. I won’t talk about it to anyone. Anyone at all.” Until I had a single bar on my phone and could dial 911.

  Okay, so I wasn’t exactly grace under pressure. Right now, I was doing pretty darn good not to have peed my pants.

  “That won’t be necessary.” Jenna peeked out the porthole on the door and lowered the curtain over it. She reached into her pocket and started to pull out the gun.

  “Please don’t hurt me.” I jumped off the bar stool, ducked behind it, and squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Oh, stop being a baby. It won’t hurt a bit.”

  There was a click, and I started whimpering.

  Then I heard the sound of something being dumped on the counter and a gentle whir.

  What the—?

  I opened one eye a squint.

  “Hurry and take off your clothes.” Jenna was twisting a bottle onto the end of the gun, which upon closer and non-panicky examination was silver plastic and resembled the base of a paint sprayer more than a pistol.

  “Come on, Piper.” She waved her free hand. “We don’t have much time.”

  “Umm, what’s happening?” I asked.

  “I’m here to fix you.” Jenna lined cotton balls on the bar and took a step back, eyeing me appraisingly.

  “Fix me?”

  “Fix your tan.”

  I looked down at my blotchy orange skin. “You’re not going to hurt me?”

  “I just told you it won’t hurt. Well, the alcohol might sting a little, but I think we can mute the overall color, then add some tone with contouring.”

  “Umm, what is happening?” Now that I was pretty sure Jenna wasn’t going to shoot me, I had no idea what she was doing. “I’m so confused.”

  “I told you before. I have to keep it a secret.”

  “Keep what a secret?”

  “My classes.” Jenna opened a bottle of vodka with her teeth and rather than taking a swig, which I was tempted to do, she doused some of the cotton swabs with it.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m running low on rubbing alcohol. We’ll have to make do.”

  “Wait. What classes? And why are they a secret?”

  “On my laptop earlier.” She dabbed and swiped the soaked swab over the skin on my legs in an even, practiced motion. She paused. “Did you really not read what was on the screen? I thought for sure you’d seen it.”

  “I … I’m still confused.”

  “I’m taking online classes in my spare time. To become an aesthetician.”

  The tanning spray warnings. The pedicure instructions.

  “Why would that be a secret?” I asked.

  “My family. My mom has everything invested in this business. And Silas … he gave up a great job, making a heck of a lot more money, to come work on the ship. I can’t abandon them. Business has been down, and they need me. I told you. I’d do anything for them.”

  That included putting her dream career on hold. I had a newfound respect for Jenna Goode-Tripp. Not as a calculating killer, but as a daughter. A sister. A friend.

  And, man. As an aesthetician. She worked her magic on my legs, transforming them until it truly looked like I’d gotten a decent tan. Not to mention calves.

  I said as much, and she blushed.

  “I airbrushed on a little extra muscle tone. I hope you don’t mind.”

  I stifled a snort.

  “There’s no way anyone will believe I have muscles, painted on or not, so if you really want to keep this secret, that might not have been the best move.”

  She ignored me, making quick work of it—removing the worst of the blotches with the alcohol and evening out the rest, adding contour as she went.

  “What do you think?” Jenna stepped back.

  I gaped at myself in the mirrored wall behind us. I couldn’t help but applaud. She’d expertly shaded in all the spots where the sun would have naturally hit my curves. Not a streak in sight.

  “I think your talents are being wasted behind that info desk.”

  “You’re just saying that.” A blush crept up her cheeks.

  “I’m really not. I mean, yeah. I’m thankful to no longer be mistaken for an escapee from Loompaland. But remember, I used to hunt down people with your skills on frantic wedding mornings. You would have been at the top of my contact list.”

  “Really?” she squealed.

  “Yep.” It was only then that I realized I’d used the past tense while talking about my business.

  “Wow. That’s very—well, it doesn’t matter. I can only take so many of the classes online. Maybe someday I’ll tell my mom and brother. Eventually. But now isn’t the right time. I can’t leave them. They’re already stressed enough as it is with Mrs. Bosley’s death.”

  “For what it’s worth, this looks amazing,” I said. “Thank you.”

  She smiled the kind of smile that I was sure her family would do anything to see. Whether she was on this ship or not.

  So I could scratch another suspect off my list. Jenna had been a long shot anyway. It wasn’t like I was crossing off my prime suspect. Who was …

  Argh. I didn’t have a prime suspect, did I? I had a bunch of hazy clues that could have vaguely pointed at anyone, including Tammi. And for that matter, me.

  What I didn’t have was much more time.

  Chapter Tw
enty-Seven

  I’d officially exhausted all my fictional detective skills as well as my citizen’s police academy skills (if you wanted to count grabbing that spoon to defend myself against a woman wielding an airbrush sprayer).

  My cabin steward had already turned down the covers on my bed despite the fact that it was before dinner. After the crash of adrenaline from my run-in with the tanning machine combined with the hubbub of falsely suspecting Jenna, I felt like a shriveled balloon. I collapsed on the bed in a heap. At some point, I meant to set the alarm to give myself time to get ready for dinner, but I dozed off instead.

  With a start, I awoke at the sound of a light whoosh on the other side of the room. The clock said it was nine p.m. I’d accidentally slept through dinner. The lights were still on, the chain fastened. Someone had slipped an envelope under my door.

  After the day I’d had, I half-expected an anonymous death threat. Or maybe a bribe to keep my mouth shut.

  It was neither. The envelope contained a note from Silas, his handwriting so perfect and even it could have been fed through a typewriter.

  Dear Piper,

  You were missed at dinner. I sincerely hope it wasn’t due to the tanning mishap. Please accept these drink vouchers and complimentary Internet access code. Hope it helps make the rest of your trip more enjoyable.

  In Your Service,

  Silas

  My chest did an unexpected flip-flop at that “In Your Service” line, but I dismissed it. His mother or sister had obviously directed him to write the note. That, or he was delivering similar gifts to everyone on board in order to lessen some of the PR nightmare that awaited.

  Either way, I couldn’t stop the shiver of excitement as I fired up my laptop, eager to talk to Addie.

  A flood of emails had poured in. Unsurprisingly, I’d lost the last of my bridal clients. I expected my spirits to plummet as I read the feeble excuses, but instead I felt … fine.

  Maybe it was because I’d had a few days and a million distractions to put things into perspective. Maybe spending all that time in the cargo hold had reminded me how much I missed those early, shoestring weddings. Or maybe I was just exhausted and had transitioned into a state of perpetual self-delusion.