“But that is,” said Ethan pointing to the desk.
On the desk were three of the missing bottles of the Californian sparkling wine used exclusively for the Claim Your Million event.
Ethan used his cell phone to take photos of the bottles on the desk.
“So what are you thinking?” I asked.
“I think she’s got a taste for champagne,” said Cece, her eyes locked on the bottles.
“I don’t know what to think.” Ethan was frowning at the desk, as if it might give a response if he stared at it long enough. “Clearly these bottles are here, but they shouldn’t be. The question is why does she have them? And were there any more?”
“And what is she planning to do with the rest of them?” I asked. “She’s not drinking them any time soon. They’re not even in the refrigerator.”
I had visions of her clobbering a series of other people who got in her way, each bottle being used to smash in another person’s head. I shuddered at the thought of it.
“I need to speak to Helen Johannsen as soon as I can.” Ethan walked over to the door of the room and opened it. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got pictures of the bottles so she can’t get rid of the evidence. I’ll find her and get an explanation.”
“She has to be on board somewhere,” I said in the doorway.
Since we were sailing between ports, she had to be somewhere on the ship. The next Claim Your Million event wasn’t until later that afternoon, so in the meantime, we had the whole ship to search.
When we were all outside the room again, Ethan stopped in front of the door.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“If she comes back to her cabin, I want to know about it.” Ethan reached toward the electronic lock and then pulled at the panel on the front, which slid down to reveal buttons underneath. “I’m disabling her lock for the time being. If she wants to get back into her room, she’s going to have to talk to me first. I don’t want those champagne bottles to disappear, even if I have pictures of them.”
“Good thinking,” said Cece, giving Ethan a one-woman round of applause. I smacked her on the arm to get her to stop it.
“I’m going to the security office to see if I can track Helen down from there. If either of you see any sign of her, call me right away.”
“Will do,” I said, waving him off. The poor guy had barely slept at all, and now he was back to work.
When Ethan had disappeared, Cece grabbed my arm to stop me from doing the same.
“What is it?” I asked her.
She gave me one of the little smiles she puts on when she knows something that I don’t, and she wiggled her eyebrows.
“What is it?” I repeated, nudging her arm this time.
“Check this out.” Cece reached into the waistband of her pants and pulled out a small rectangular card. She held it up for me to see.
“Where did you get that?” I asked her as I took it out of her hand. I examined it closely. It was a reservation card from the ship’s spa, and it had Helen’s name on it. She had another appointment booked from nine o’clock until noon. I checked the date to confirm that it wasn’t left over from the last time I’d seen her there. It wasn’t; it was for today.
“I got it from my friend in housekeeping,” she said in as innocent a tone as she could muster.
“And why didn’t you tell Ethan?”
Cece put her hands on her hips and sighed.
“Because I didn’t want to get her in trouble! Even though it’s just a bit of paper, technically she stole it from a passenger’s cabin. I figure, we’ll just wander on over to the spa, by chance, and find Helen there. Then you can call Ethan and tell him you’ve found her, and my friend doesn’t have to get in trouble. Okay?”
I glared at Cece, not sure if I was pleased or annoyed with her. Everything she said made sense. But I still felt like I’d partially deceived Ethan. She grinned at me and I couldn’t resist smiling back at her.
“Let’s go.”
I was off to visit the spa for the second time in as many days. I just hoped that this time things wouldn’t get quite so messy.
Chapter Twenty-Six
We arrived at the spa with Cece still clutching the reservation card. This time, the spa’s gentle aroma of incense and other relaxing odors did nothing to calm me; I was too wound up over everything that had happened.
“Hello,” I said brightly and near breathlessly to the Thai lady behind the counter. Like the day before, she wore a serene smile that barely moved upon our arrival. “Is Helen Johannsen here again?”
The woman looked at me for several seconds before replying. She obviously remembered me from the day before—and the trouble Helen had caused. If she didn’t have such a calm look on her face, I might have been tempted to think she blamed me for the mess that had occurred.
“Is she expecting you?”
I was going to answer honestly. I really was. But Cece beat me to it with an answer that definitely wasn’t.
“Oh, she’s expecting us. She wants to see me.” Cece waved the appointment card in the air as if it was proof.
It seemed to be proof enough for the calm receptionist, because she beckoned for us to follow her as she led us down the same dimly-lit hallway from yesterday.
This time we passed all of the mineral-named treatment rooms, and we were led right to the back of the spa section of the ship, to the final chamber.
“She’s in here,” said our hostess.
The sign on this final room of the spa was not named quartz or amber or jade or crystal or anything like a mineral. This door had the slightly scarier name of Medi-Spa written in bright white lettering on a black nameplate. It didn’t seem to have the same relaxing ring to it as the rest of the facility.
“Thanks for your help,” I said to our guide. We stood and waited until she had disappeared down the hallway before I turned to Cece. “Okay, I’ll check and see if she’s in here. If so, can you call Ethan while I stall her?”
“Sure thing.”
I pushed open the door to the Medi-Spa. It opened silently. Inside, everything in the room seemed to be either gleaming white, shiny stainless steel, or glass, and was much more brightly lit than the other treatment rooms. Instead of a massage table, there was one that looked more like a surgeon’s, and instead of incense or essential oils, the room had more of a chemically sterile odor to it.
Helen Johannsen was lying on the medical bed, another silver Swan robe wrapped around her. She had her eyes closed and there seemed to be something glimmering around her head. I couldn’t get my eyes to focus exactly on what I was seeing, though.
I nudged Cece and jerked my head down the hallway, signaling it was time to call Ethan.
Helen and I had had enough run-ins with each other. If I could just stand there and not alert her to my presence, maybe Ethan could deal with any shenanigans without me even needing to be involved this time.
I stood in the doorway, making sure the presumed murderer couldn’t escape anywhere before she could be questioned.
I should have known it wouldn’t work.
With the door open, a draft blew through the room and tousled Helen’s hair. Distracted, she turned her head with a little shake. Suddenly, she was facing my way.
Her eyes went wide, and so did mine.
Busted!
As she turned her head and opened her mouth, I realized what it was I had seen glimmering around her head. It was the ends of what must have been at least two dozen needles. My mouth dropped open in horror.
Her entire head had been turned into a pincushion!
“Argh!” I screamed.
“You!” screeched Helen as if I had wounded her.
She sat up on the bed, and from her expression I could tell that the dozens of needles stuck into her face weren’t bothering her in the slightest. For reasons I could not even begin to fathom, they were supposed to be there. In fact, the only thing bothering her was me.
“Your face! You
’ve got… needles…”
Helen looked at me as if I was stupid. In that moment, I guess I was. I had no idea what the Medi-Spa did but I was rapidly finding out.
“Of course I’ve got needles! How else am I going to prevent wrinkles? What do you think I’m here for?”
I lowered my hand from my eyes. I’d been using it to shield myself from the full view of her face. When I focused on her again, she still looked like an angry pincushion.
“I told you yesterday: no more pictures. Find someone else to bother.”
“I’m not here to take pictures.”
“Well, what do you want?”
It’s often said that honesty is the best policy, so I decided to give it a try.
“The security office needs to speak to you about something. So I was looking for you. And now I’ve found you.”
“Security? Speak to me? Are you sure you aren’t confused, dear? Are you sure it isn’t you they’re after? Maybe for the damages you caused yesterday? Or that poor man whose product you threw off the ship? Or the lady with the eggshell vases you destroyed? You’re the biggest troublemaker on this ship. Speaking of which, what was your alibi at the time of Lesley’s death? Huh?”
“What? Me? I was… sleeping. I think. That doesn’t matter—”
“Oh, sleeping? That’s not very convincing. I think I’ll have a word with—”
“Hey! I’m the one who investigates murders around here. I’m not the one who commits them. Speaking of which, what was the relationship between you and Alejandro?”
Helen Johannsen’s eyes narrowed as she sized me up. “Alejandro? Was?” The rumors clearly hadn’t yet circulated amongst the millionaire crowd, but she caught on fast. “Are you saying he’s…”
“Yes!” As you know, since you killed him! “That’s why security needs to talk to you.”
Helen hopped off the bed and slipped on a pair of disposable spa slippers. She took a step in my direction.
“Security? Talk to me? About the death of some off-brand faker? That’s outrageous!”
There’s something terrifying about a woman with dozens of needles in her head coming toward you.
I shuffled away from her as she approached me. “I hope you’ve got some good answers to their questions.”
“You really do have some nerve. Not only do you ruin all our events, but now you’re trying to frame me for the death—of which this is the first I’m hearing—of an exposed conman? Are you out of your tiny little mind?”
Like a horror movie character, the needle-headed woman was coming toward me, and just like a horror movie villain, her eyes gleamed with manic anger.
“Stay away!” I yelled, raising my arms in front of me to ward her off.
“Me stay away? The nerve! After the amount of times you’ve been asked to stay away—and ignored every warning—I have half a mind to—”
“Good morning!” said Ethan as I backed into him.
I exhaled and went limp with relief. “Thank goodness you’re here.”
“Yes, thank goodness indeed that you’re here,” said Helen, glaring at me. “This girl is determined to ruin every last visit I make to this spa.”
“It’s only the second time!”
“In two days! It’s unbelievable that—”
“Helen?” said Ethan, interrupting her. “I need to speak to you about an urgent matter.”
“Well, you can’t. I’m busy.”
Helen waved her hands about six inches in front of her face to point out the array of metal sticks poking out of her skin.
Ethan shook his head. He was normally a patient man, but it seemed his lack of sleep was getting to him. “Mei!” he called down the hallway.
A moment later, a spa worker in a white coat appeared with a serene smile similar to that of the lady at the front desk. “Yes?”
“Can you take the needles out of her face? She needs to come with me. Now.”
Ethan turned to me, but he was clearly reluctant to speak in front of Helen. He nodded down the hallway, to indicate I could leave him to it.
I was glad that he was the one who had to deal with her and not me. With a smile on my face, I left him to babysit her while she had the needles removed from her head.
“Hey. I’m in here,” called Cece as I was passing the Jade treatment room.
I slipped inside to see my friend sitting on top of the massage table. She was holding two cups.
“Cucumber water?”
I gratefully accepted a cup. “After that horror movie of a scene, I think I need it.”
“Was she that mean?”
“Not this time. But she had dozens of needles in her head for some weird treatment.” I shuddered.
“Jeez. I hate needles.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next morning, I was in a good mood. No, not a good mood, a great mood. We’d caught Helen champagne-bottle-handed, and the cruise was nearly over. Even if it hadn’t gone smoothly, it didn’t matter anymore. The good thing about working in this industry is that if you’ve had a bad week, the next one was always guaranteed to be different.
I hadn’t heard much from Ethan. The last thing had been a text in the afternoon the day before, saying that he was about to do a formal interview with Helen. No doubt he had his hands full catching up with all the administrative work associated with two deaths and apprehending a murder suspect.
Even the thought of writing up yet another report—this one about all my interactions with Helen Johannsen—wasn’t enough to sink my buoyant mood. It took another event entirely to do that.
I was in the International Buffet, treating myself to a breakfast fit for a princess. Or perhaps a pig. Or maybe a pig princess. I was almost giggling to myself when I was interrupted.
“Come for some of the best food in the world?”
Of course it was Greg Washington. While I suspected he wasn’t the best chef in the world, he was certainly in the running for most entertainingly arrogant.
“You know it. I thought I’d celebrate by writing a breakfast article.” I was standing in front of one of the rows of heated trays filled with eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, sausages, and other assorted breakfast foods.
Greg eyed me with suspicion. “Don’t you write one of those articles every cruise?”
“Umm, no comment?”
I did try to mix it up a bit—for example with a story about how to maximize the space on your buffet plate, or vox pop pieces on a dozen different passengers’ favorite buffet breakfast items. But he was right, I did seem to use my job as an excuse to raid the massive buffet at least once every cruise.
“You’re awfully happy today.” Greg raised his chin at me, indicating my smile. He had a plate of his own in one hand and was filling it up just as enthusiastically as I was. I guessed his work day hadn’t started yet.
“I am, aren’t I?”
“Well, go on. Spill it.”
I looked around to see if anyone was listening. “Sit down with me and I’ll tell you.”
“Deal.”
As I walked over to a table for two that had a decent-sized quarantine zone of empty tables around it, I could hear thumping dance music coming from nearby. I scanned the room to find its source.
On the other side of the cavernous restaurant floor, dividers had been used to create a private dining area. These were often used so large groups could dine together without mixing with regular passengers.
On this particular occasion, I knew from the scheduling that in the sectioned-off area another Power Breakfast for the Claim Your Million group was taking place. I was glad they were secluded from the rest of us.
“So, what’s the gossip? I heard the security guys have been real busy.” Greg lowered his normally-loud voice to a more modest level. “They found another body.”
I nodded at him, pleased to find out that he was at least a day behind on the gossip. Word couldn’t have gotten around yet, which would keep Kelly and corporate headquarters happy at least.
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“Yep. But better than that.” I lowered my voice to a whisper and leaned across the table. “I found Lesley’s killer.”
“No way!” shouted Greg so loudly I was pretty sure they could hear him down in Key West itself, which is where the ship was now currently docked.
“Shh!” I glanced around to see if anyone had heard. If they had, they weren’t interested. Greg’s yell had been as uninformative as it was noisy.
Greg ran his fingers over his lips in a zipping motion, but his eyes screamed tell me everything.
I explained to the wide-eyed chef all that had happened, culminating in Helen being dragged out of the spa in a rage. I may have exaggerated the last part just a little, but I knew Greg appreciated the drama.
“Girl, your talents are wasted with that job of yours. You should be in the FBI!”
I laughed while secretly thinking that maybe I would be pretty good at that. But I wasn’t really interested. Being around all those murders would be depressing.
“Just a moment.” I pushed my plate away and stood up.
Something caught my eye. Walking across the room was a bald man in a Hawaiian print shirt. An expensive-looking shirt at that, with purple flowers on a white background. It looked an awful lot like the one Cece had described to me and the captain.
“Back in a second!”
I weaved my way between chairs and tables, around customers with piled-high plates, and past busboys cleaning up. The whole time I kept my eye on the man in the shirt, gaining on him as I crossed the large interior of the restaurant.
The man looked over his shoulder just as he reached the far side of the room. His eyes locked onto mine, his eyebrows went up, and then he doubled his pace.
“Not in there… not in there…” I said to myself under my breath as I chased him. But sure enough, he went ‘in there’—to the Claim Your Million Power Breakfast.
Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries 06 - Cruise Millions Page 18
