No luck.
When my throat felt scratchy, I gave up.
That brain block remained.
But I’d had an idea about patterns.
* * * *
Petronella and I ate lunch in the buffet, because she insisted I needed to get out of the cabin. Yesterday she’d wanted me in it, today out. Don’t ask me.
She kept giving me concerned looks as we went from food station to food station.
“May we join you?”
Her question pulled me out of my fog and I realized she’d found the same marijuana-farm-bound young man at a table alone.
She looked at me like a cat who’d brought its first dead mouse home to its owners.
I maneuvered to put two table legs between us. He and Petronella carried the conversation. Turned out he liked to bake as much as she did. Though I suspected he added an ingredient to his brownies she didn’t.
By the end of the meal, I’d made one decision, anyway.
When I stood, Petronella did, too. “I’m going with you.”
“I’m going to talk to Odette, if she’ll talk. I want to follow up on something, plus ask her about Wardham and—” I gave her a significant look. “—yesterday morning.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m coming.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
I led Petronella to Odette’s cabin, remembering the number Odette gave me more than a week ago, and knocked firmly.
Odette opened the door almost immediately. She didn’t hesitate, inviting us in.
We sat on the couch, while she took the desk chair.
“Odette, did you know Leah was reviewing books under the name Dee North of Boise, Idaho?”
“No. I was as surprised as anybody when Maya brought it up. Though I can see Leah doing that. An online bridge discussion group we were on kicked her off because of her harsh posts. She rejoined under a new name and was kicked off again for the same thing. She wasn’t shy about criticizing someone to their face, but the distance and anonymity of online forums…”
“You said you backed out of coming last year, but decided to give this year another try. Do you remember your specific thinking about those decisions?”
She raised her eyebrows in amusement and surprise. “My, quite a request. Let’s see. A few days before the deadline to pay for the trip last year, after Ralph and Maya cancelled, I sat down and considered spending two weeks with Leah. Her sharpness had become increasingly mean around then. I decided I did not want to be exposed. And, indeed, she was particularly nasty before she and Wardham left on the cruise.
“She was so much better on their return that I felt, perhaps, I overreacted. And I did miss the cruising. As I’ve said, I persuaded Ralph and Maya to come again, too. I had second thoughts in the run-up to the trip because she was back to her old ways. But, after cancelling and regretting, I chose to stick it out.”
“What about four years ago when Bruce Froster died and the couples re-coupled. Do you recall her behavior before that cruise?”
“It’s a long time ago and with events during that cruise and after— No. Wait. I do recall some… Yes. Wardham and I had several talks about how razor sharp Leah’s tongue had become. I remember, because it made his marrying her all the more ironic. What is this about, Sheila?”
“Would you be surprised to learn her reviews were particularly nasty during those three periods — before the cruise four years ago, before last year’s cruise, and before this cruise? Followed by periods of relative normalcy.”
Her quick mind got it immediately. “She built up frustration or whatever drove her, expiated it over the cruise, entering a calmer period, before—” She looked at me questioningly. “—the cycle began again?”
“Possible, don’t you think?”
“Certainly possible.”
“Then, the question is, what happened on last year’s cruise to work off her built up frustration or whatever drove her. Did she mention anything about the cruise?”
“Mmm.” She went silent, her gaze fixed. She blinked before she spoke. “She did say a few times that we’d really missed out, that last year was outside the usual cruise experience, that she’d discovered new entertainment, and was looking forward to more of it this year. No indication of what that entertainment was. I might have asked more as this trip neared, but she was back into her worst behavior.”
“If you remember more…”
“Of course. If there’s nothing else now—”
“There is.”
I let the silence extend, feeling Petronella fidget beside me. Odette sat calmly.
“We saw you and Wardham yesterday morning.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. And I will be telling the authorities what we saw.”
“Is that what you came to tell me?”
“No. We came to ask you—”
“Why?” Petronella wailed.
Odette’s brows rose as she smiled. “For sex.”
That stopped Petronella.
“The night after his wife was found dead?”
“You know the answer, Sheila. Yes.”
Petronella’s head turned from me to Odette to me and ended facing Odette. “But… but you said you were better off without him. You said he hadn’t aged well. You said you were having more fun without him. But—”
Uh-oh. Had Petronella seen Odette as a role model for getting over Tony? A role model who’d had ex sex. Would she take this as permission to pine for Tony?
“—you still love him,” she finished.
“I did say those things. And each is true. However, I found myself wondering if there’s still something to be said for an old-fashioned toaster.”
“Toaster?” Petronella and I said together.
“Toaster. Instead of the fancy gadgets all the rage now, where you need a special course to be able to use. Instead, just slip the toast in the slot and be done with it. Wardham is the sexual version of an old-fashioned toaster. Oh, now I see I’ve shocked you…”
“You and Wardham are back together.” Petronella’s conclusion was an accusation.
“My personal life is personal,” Odette said with an edge.
She’d acknowledge sex with her ex, but not talk about love.
Her earlier words explaining the relationships replayed in my head. What she’d said absorbed me then, but now the how of saying it.
Leah is married to my ex-husband, Wardham.
Leah and what she did, came first.
In relationship to Odette.
With the man himself almost an afterthought.
She is very competitive. Very. … Not that I’m stronger, but that she considers she’s beaten me.
Was Leah alone in seeing it as a game, in keeping score?
Could that kind of competition lead to—
Not there yet. Definitely not there yet.
Especially since I intended to ask the woman for a favor.
“Remember telling me about your friend who’d said she wouldn’t have been surprised to hear Coral pushed Piper down the stairs, but was surprised by what did happen? Does that mean she has reason to think Piper pushed Coral down the stairs?”
“Oh. Interesting. I didn’t think to ask. Do you want me to—?”
“If you could introduce us, I’d love to meet her in person.”
Her mouth pursed. “No interference from me? No problem. I’ll introduce you and leave. You can’t ask for better. But it’s a man, not a woman. And an acquaintance rather than a friend.”
* * * *
“Vance, this is Sheila Mackey. She has questions you will answer nicely. Sheila, this is Vance Reesha.”
It was Mr. Grandpa’s Sailboat on the Label.
He leered. “What do I get in return?”
“Behave yourself, Vance,” Odette said.
“You’re no fun. But I suppose as long as I can’t work on my tan on the upper deck —they’ve blocked off the whole section, say they don’t know when or if it’ll be reopened to passenge
rs — I might as well.”
Must be where he’d been when I overheard him.
I clamped my hand on Odette’s arm. “Why don’t you stay? You might be able to fill in gaps.”
I could handle the lecher. But that would take time. And likely bruising. Certainly of his ego, possibly physical. Not conducive to getting answers from him. Odette could run interference without Mr. Grandpa’s— Vance Reesha.
Besides, what I wanted from this guy had nothing to do with the Marry-Go-Rounders, so she didn’t have that big a conflict of interest.
A glint of humorous understanding came into her eyes. “Delighted.”
Adopting Aunt Kit’s most businesslike tone, I addressed him. “I understand you’ve crossed paths before with the members of a group of five couples sailing together.”
He looked blank.
“Five wives, five husbands?”
More blank.
Odette cleared her throat. “Older men, flashily attractive younger women. One with a noteworthy, ah, derrière.”
“Ohhhh. Yeah.” I suppressed a squirm at his smile. “Let me tell you about them…”
As he did, I realized three things beyond what he was saying.
His was the voice I’d heard in the Atrium during the musicians’ break, telling someone else about a man wanting to go back to his first wife.
His was also the voice I’d heard drifting into my drowsy brain that third day on the Diversion, when I’d heard a string of nonsense words.
T-bar and errand chase sonar you and me theme and Cheese Mary now?
That was the third and final thing I realized.
They weren’t nonsense.
And I knew what he’d really said.
I wanted to confirm it without an audience.
“Odette, will you leave us alone, please.”
“Now you’re talking,” he said with a leer.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
My conversation with Chief Security Officer Gerard Edgars started with, “I have a theory and an idea” and ended with “What have you got to lose?”
That might have been what persuaded him to agree — reluctantly — to bring together the list of people I requested in an empty suite.
“Hey,” the Valkyrie leader objected when she walked in. “Why didn’t they upgrade me to this suite? My agent asked if there were any suites open right before we sailed. That stupid—”
“They don’t like to give away the perks that come with a suite. Sometimes they’d rather have it stand empty. Sit there,” Catherine said firmly.
She and Bob escorted people to preassigned seats on the couches and added chairs. Along with Petronella and me, standing at one end of the lopsided oval, the idea was to break up the groups. The Valkyrie leader, the redhead, and the other one sat to Catherine’s left. Then Constantine, Badar, and Pyorte before Bob separated them from Anya and Imka. Petronella came next, followed by Wardham, Maya, and Ralph.
Ralph was to my right. On my left were Odette, Coral, and Piper, then back to Catherine.
Next to the windows, bartender Jason offered non-alcoholic drinks from a wheeled cart. So far, no takers.
There were two more in the suite, but with the bedroom door nearly closed, no one could see Gerard Edgars or Henri Lipke.
“What is this about?” demanded the Valkyrie leader. Okay, I knew her name was Merilee — and a less appropriate name I couldn’t imagine because there was nothing merry about her — but the Valkyrie leader suited her better. “We don’t have all day.”
“It’s about murder. And finding the person guilty of murder.”
“We didn’t have anything to do with that old woman — sorry for your loss,” she added in an unemotional monotone to Wardham before picking up in her usual delivery. “She went for a walk. Somebody knocked her off. This has nothing to do with us. I just came to check out the suite for our next cruise.”
I talked over whatever response the redhead started to make, no doubt about who’d get the top suite.
“That’s where you’re wrong. It does have to do with you. Did you know some people consider members of your group prime suspects? Take for instance Petronella.” Several of them looked around, homing in on her when she made a gulping sound of protest.
“She thinks Coral threatened Leah somehow and Leah tried to get her off the ship by tripping her on the stairs.”
“What? That bitch? She tripped me?”
I hurried past Coral’s questions undermining my premise. “She struck out with whatever she could at the moment. Her cane. She stuck it between the risers. Coral stepped on it and fell.”
“I knew it wasn’t my shoes.” Coral’s triumph wasn’t pretty. “I kept saying it wasn’t my shoes. I kept saying there was something wrong with the stairs.”
“But it wasn’t something wrong with the stairs. It was Leah’s cane, which she put there on purpose. So it makes sense Coral went after Leah. She has the physical strength to kill Leah.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t know anything about how she was killed.”
“As long as you asked, she was killed by something being pressed against her throat.”
“How do you know that?” the Valkyrie leader asked.
“The experts will confirm it.” I blithely committed them to my loosely woven suppositions. “Her cane was pressed against her throat while she was up against something unyielding, effectively strangling her.”
Seeing all the other Valkyries, along with the rest of the people in the room looking at Coral gave me a little thrill.
It was working.
I could hardly believe it. I’d hoped, but hadn’t truly believed. I wished Aunt Kit could be here.
I caught myself. This was barely the beginning and I was a newbie beyond all newbies at this.
Just as their suspicion stretched toward certainty, I cut it.
“The trouble is, Coral is the one person who couldn’t have killed Leah.”
“What?”
“Then why did you—?”
“What are you—?”
“Of course, I didn’t.”
I cut across all the voices “There is security footage.”
The person who killed Leah already knew that, or they wouldn’t have taken precautions to not be identifiable on the security footage.
“The reason we know Coral could not have been the killer is her cast would be instantly recognizable on the security video. Unless…”
I had everybody’s attention.
“She could take off her cast.”
“Well, I can’t. So, you can just stop talking this crazy stuff.”
“Oh, I’ve just started talking crazy stuff. Because there’s a scenario with each of you as the murderer.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
That shut them up. The innocent trying to figure out what might look like guilt. The guilty reviewing every step taken to hide the trail.
“Now, let’s consider, Anya and Pyorte,” I said.
That set off babble. Possibly because most of them were relieved to hear someone else named.
“Who?” the redhead asked.
I tipped my head toward them. “They’re musicians on the ship. They play guitar and violin.”
“So?”
I turned away from her to the young duo. Both looked scared.
“It’s time to be honest.” I zeroed in on the violinist, her talented hands cupped in her lap, her fingertips twitching. “Why were you near Leah and Wardham’s cabin not long before I found Leah?”
“Anya, you were near guest cabins? You know the rules.” Pyorte sounded shocked, while overlooking the timing of her infraction.
She shook her head at him, mouth pressed firmly closed.
“It must have been important to break that rule.” My nudge made no impression on her.
I went harder, keeping my voice and gaze even, relentless, the way I’d mastered when responding to the snarky minority of interviewers trying to get a cheap rise out of the author of A
bandon All.
“You know there are cameras everywhere. When the officers check the video, they will see you by Leah Treusault’s cabin. You must have been really angry at her, the way she chased after Pyorte. She made no secret of it. We all saw it. It was awkward and uncomfortable for anyone who noticed. But for you it was much more. If he gave in and got caught and fired, that would be the end of you playing together on the Diversion. What would you do then?”
It might have been a twitch, but I thought the head movement was a tiny, involuntary shake of her head, denying my words.
“But that was minor. There was so much more at stake. Because you love Pyorte and you were afraid… Such a rich lady. Would he be tempted? You went there to confront her.”
“No, no.” Thank heavens, I’d pushed her far enough to respond. I was running out of things to say. “You saw. I never stop there. You saw me. I thought… I did not stop there to hurt that woman.”
True.
By then Leah was already dead, her body wrapped in towels and deposited on the deck chair.
“Why were you crying near her cabin? Crying so hard you almost ran into the wall.”
“You catch me. I cry.”
“You were already crying and I didn’t catch you at anything. You weren’t even by Leah and Wardham’s cabin yet. What were you afraid of, Anya?”
“Nothing. Not afraid. No, no.”
“Yes, you were. Afraid of— No, afraid for. You were afraid for Pyorte, weren’t you?”
She burst into tears.
That worked as a yes for me.
Pyorte stretched a hand toward her, but with my arrangement couldn’t reach her. “Anya, why?”
“You never come. All night. You are gone all night. Again.”
Click. He got it. “You think I am with that woman? Anya, no. No.”
Her tears started again.
This time when he reached, Bob gave me a questioning look. I nodded. He rose, Pyorte slid over immediately and put an arm around Anya, wiping at her tears, murmuring in their language. Bob took the empty chair.
This happened to the accompaniment of the redhead saying, “Big deal. The guy cheated on her. Doesn’t have anything to do with us.”
Death on the Diversion Page 19
