by Ava Dunne
“A discussion or an argument?”
“There was nothing to argue. Hans is her…our… direct boss. He told her of a change in the schedule, and she had to live with it.”
“What was this change?”
I took another sip of whisky. “Kristina Murray didn’t want Geri doing her private yoga sessions. She asked for a change. The only other certified yoga instructor on board—on the crew, anyway—is me.”
“Was Geri happy about that?”
I shook my head. “No. She was angry at Hans. And at me. She told me to take the 2 o’clock Pilates class, so I figured she was going higher up on the food chain to complain.”
“Why was she angry at you?”
“Because she’s the regular instructor. The VIPs are her responsibility.”
“Along with the extras one gets from serving the VIPs?”
“I don’t know. This is my first time working on a cruise ship.” I remembered Geri’s words earlier in the day, and stared into my glass. “My first rodeo.”
“How did you get this job?”
“Through Rowena Callahan. She works for the Diamond Cruise line in the New York office. I was her yoga instructor at a studio near Union Square. I’d just been fired by the studio, and my wedding was cancelled. Rowena felt sorry for me. She thought I needed a change, so she offered me a job trailing Geri on the Charisma for this cruise, to see if I liked the environment and if they liked me. If we did, I could be on call as a substitute for all three Diamond Line ships, and if there was an opening on one of them, I could apply for the job.”
“She thought a position might open on this ship?” Cooke asked. He glanced at Bakshi, who shrugged. “How many yoga instructors do they need?”
“One right now. At my interview, she said there was talk about expanding the staff, because yoga’s becoming so popular and instructors quit regularly. I’m working on a Letter of Employment for the duration of this cruise. From what I understand, contracts usually run six months, with the option to extend to ten months, and then you’re rotated off for six or eight weeks.”
“That is correct,” said Chief Bakshi.
“If you like each other, you go another six to ten months, and so forth and so on,” I continued. “But people get sick or just quit. People seem to either stay a long time, or are transient.”
“Which are you?” Cooke watched me.
“I’ve spent so much of my life being reliable, I wanted to see if I could be transient for awhile.”
“Why were you fired from the yoga studio in New York?”
“I didn’t fit their brand.” I knew I sounded bitter; I couldn’t help it. I glanced out from under my eyelashes and saw the sympathetic look the detective sent my way.
“Have you met anyone on the ship before this cruise?”
“No. I mean, not as far as I know. I haven’t even met everyone on the ship yet. I don’t know how I’m going to remember them all.”
“Mnemonic device,” suggested Detective Cooke. “Or alliteration.”
“I like naming things,” I said. “People. I need to know people’s names. Otherwise, it feels disrespectful. But if I make up funny rhymes to remember, I’ll start laughing when I talk to them. They’ll think it’s rude.”
Detective Duncan Cooke grinned at me, and, after a hesitation, I grinned back.
“Isn’t it unusual, to walk onto a cruise ship and start training?” He asked. “Isn’t there generally a training period? Down in Florida or something?”
“It is unusual,” said the Chief.
His neutral tone put me on the defensive. “I had a physical. I watched a bunch of videos. If things work out, I guess they’ll send me to training in Florida at the end of the week.”
“Did you see Geri this morning? Before the 11 o’clock class?”
I nodded. “Both the 7 AM and the 11 AM class.”
“Was she different at all?”
“No. She’s always grumpy in the morning, at least since I’ve known her. She’s not a very patient person.”
“Doesn’t that go against yoga principles?”
“No one’s perfect.” I shrugged. “That’s the point of the practice. Every day you make a bit of progress. Sometimes you backslide, and you start over.”
“Who were her friends?”
“I don’t know. She showed me around the first day, when we left New York. But we didn’t spend time together between classes. She went her way and I went mine.”
“Who would you consider your friends on this ship?”
“This is only my third day,” I said with more heat than I intended. “Not enough time to make friends.”
“You don’t spend all your free time alone.”
“No. Roz McIntyre, one of the dancers, and Harmonia Ocean, the ship’s tarot reader, kind of adopted me. I spend time with them when I can. Not that there’s much free time working a cruise ship.”
“What about your roommate?”
“My roommate is Angela Castillo. She works nights in one of the passenger, sorry, guest bars, The Glitterati. I’m asleep when she gets in, and she’s asleep when I get up to go to work. She’s from the Philippines. She’s sweet and pleasant, and the perfect roommate. We’d be friends, if we ever had the chance to spend any time together.”
“What about Geri’s roommate?”
I shook my head. “I don’t even know who Geri’s roommate is. Was.”
“Are you close to any of the passengers?”
“I know them from class. Sometimes I pass them in the hallways, or on deck. But I’m not allowed to interact with the guests outside of classes or special events. Harmonia does, as tarot reader. Roz can, a little bit, as part of her job as an entertainer. She’s supposed to be entertaining even when she’s offstage.”
“Lovers?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you have a lover…or lovers…on this ship?”
“I’ve only been here a few days!”
“You and Sebastian Anger seem close.”
“I didn’t even know his name until earlier today.”
“That’s not always a prerequisite.” He watched me blush, and then laughed.
I wanted to say, “I’m not that kind of girl,” but that sounded stuffy and old-fashioned. Instead, I said, “My engagement broke up two days before I got onto this cruise ship.”
“Rebound romance?”
“No, thank you.”
“Why was the wedding called off? Did you catch your fiancé out at something?”
“He’s the one who called it off. He decided he was in love with one of my co-workers at the yoga studio. She fit the brand better.”
Duncan Cooke looked at me with those blue, blue eyes. I couldn’t look away. “Your ex is an idiot,” he said.
“It still hurts.” My voice was quiet.
“I know. I’m sorry.” He stood up. “Thank you for all your help. I’m sure I’ll have more questions.”
“At least you don’t have to worry about me going anywhere, unless it’s overboard,” I said.
“Please don’t,” he returned.
“Thank you, Miss Batchelder,” said Chief Bakshi.
I walked to the door and opened it. Sebastian loomed in the hall. He looked down at me, then glared into the room. “He made you cry.”
“The situation made me cry.”
“Wait here for me.” Sebastian touched my arm, then strode into the room. “Cooke, I want to talk to you.” He shut the door behind him.
I leaned against the wall and slithered to the floor.
“You’re not to tell anyone that Geri’s dead.” Amy stood over me, in her cruise line logo polo shirt and dark slacks.
“Don’t you think everyone already knows?” I asked. “There were at least twenty people standing around after I screamed.”
“The guests.” Amy paced. “We’re not telling the guests that there was a death on board. They’ll be upset.”
“We’re upset, too. We worked with her.”
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“The crew will have to cope. Goes with the job. If anyone asks at the classes tomorrow, you will say that Geri had a personal emergency and had to leave.”
“Yeah, dying’s kind of a personal emergency.” I thought about it. “What if someone asks how she left the ship?”
“Coast Guard came for her,” Amy said with such promptness I wondered how many times this happened before.
“I’m supposed to teach all her classes tomorrow?”
“You were already scheduled to handle Kristina Murray; you’ve spent two days watching Geri’s other classes. You took over today when she didn’t show up.” She glared at me. I was tired of people looming over me. “Don’t you dare come down with the vapors. You’re not some Victorian heroine.”
“It’ll be better for me to stay busy.”
“You really didn’t argue with her at the top of the stairs before she fell?”
“You think I pushed her?” I forced myself up the wall so I could stand and face her.
“No, of course not, it would have been an accident. Geri was nasty and impulsive—”
“I was in the laundry room. Ask Sebastian. Ask Merhati. Ask any of the people who work there or any of the other crew who were in there. I was at the bottom of the stairs. I didn’t see Geri when I brought the yoga blankets down. I hadn’t seen Geri since Hans told her I was taking over Kristina Murray’s private sessions.”
“I bet that went over well.”
“No, and I understand her frustration.”
“She brought it on herself. She brought all of this on herself, and now we have to clean up the mess.”
“She’s dead, Amy.”
“Bad for business, that’s what it is.” She glared at me. “You make sure you stay calm and upbeat tomorrow. No bursting into tears in front of the guests. No wavering. Or we’ll put you off in Nassau and you find your own way home.”
“I’ll do my best.” Right now, flying home from Nassau didn’t sound like such a bad idea.
“Sophie!” Roz called down the corridor. She and Harmonia hurried down the hall to me.
“Are you okay?” Harmonia enveloped me in a hug. I had to take another deep breath, because there was an instant where I almost burst into tears again. But it passed.
“You three need to get out of a guest corridor before any of them see you and start asking questions,” said Amy.
“I’m supposed to wait for Sebastian,” I said. Why would I do what he told me? Because he’d been kind when I was distraught. I hadn’t expected him to be kind.
“Wait somewhere else. Like CB.”
“Come on, Sophie,” Harmonia took me by the arm. She and Roz guided me to the “crew only” door.
“Roz!” Amy’s voice stopped all three of us in our tracks. “Don’t you have a show?”
Roz pasted a false smile on her face and looked over her shoulder. “I took a wrong step and turned my ankle.” She took a couple of steps with an unconvincing limp. “Couldn’t possibly dance tonight, see?”
“You’re impossible!” Amy blew out a breath. “Not a word to the guests! Any of you! Harmonia, if I hear you’ve been waving the Death card around in your readings—”
“The Death card doesn’t mean literal death, Amy.” Harmonia sounded weary. “How many times do we have to go over this?”
“The guests don’t know that.”
“They do if they come to me for a reading.” Harmonia shoved open the door, and we went through.
“There now, let’s have a drink,” said Roz. “I think we’ve all earned it.”
“Not in the crew bar.” I shivered. “I don’t want anyone staring at me.”
“My room,” said Roz. “My roommate is rotated off on contract break right now. I’ve got the place to myself. And plenty of liquor.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I WAS IN THE YOGA studio by 6 AM, in spite of a small hangover. The day’s crew memo gave stern instructions that the only answer to Geri’s “situation” was that she left for a “personal emergency.” When I woke up, I’d found a note on the shared desk from my roommate, Angie, asking if I was all right—obviously, the gossip machine was in full swing. I’d scribbled an affirmative, showered, and left as quickly as possible
Geri’s energy was heavy in the space, and, with a deep breath, I decided it was time to make it mine, even if this job was temporary. The front room, off the corridor, held bamboo benches with multi-colored wall hangings over them, and slots under the benches to store shoes and bags. Walking through a wide-double-framed doorway, one entered the studio proper. A wall of windows looked over the water, a glorious vista of the Atlantic Ocean. The room was large, easily accommodating fifty students, sixty or more if cramped. The floors were a smooth, gleaming bamboo. Cubbies held rolled up mats, bolsters, blocks, meditation cushions, straps, eye pillows—every yoga prop one could imagine. They were put in the cubbies higgeldy-piggeldy, with no real order. Guests could buy their own gear either at the general fitness shop on this floor, or the high-end shop called Namaste on one of the upper decks. Or they could borrow whatever they needed right here.
The unused meditation room, with its chaotic jumble, was next to the main studio rooms, but not locked. It was about a quarter of the size of the main studio, which still made it larger than my first New York City apartment. The windows gleamed, and the view was just as breathtaking, but the clutter made it impossible for anyone to enjoy it, much less use it.
I swept the floor, more a symbolic gesture than a necessary one, since the cleaning staff had worked their magic overnight. I checked the cabinet and looked through the CDs, not impressed with the selection. Maybe I could buy some new ones in port, provided I was allowed off the ship.
I took everything out of the cubbies. I reorganized and counted the mats, blocks, and other props, giving each a section of space. I found a few crystals scattered in the cabinet, but they felt old and tired. Maybe I’d cleanse them and then see how they felt. Bianca, one of my housemates back in Brooklyn, was big on that.
I found a small, graceful metal figure of a woman in Dancer’s Pose, and placed it on the center windowsill. I hoped I wouldn’t have to glue it down, and that no one would steal it.
Moving to the small meditation room, I pulled everything out of it and stacked it in the hall. I swept again, this time with more determination. I set up a small, rectangular table in one corner of the room at an angle. I found a resin seated Buddha statue, one hand raised in blessing, a few shells, a heart-shaped stone, and a ceramic lotus flower. I rescued the crystals from the studio’s cabinet and cleaned them with my breath, the way Bianca taught me. Time on the meditation altar should rejuvenate them. It took a few minutes to find a pleasing arrangement. I placed some of the meditation cushions so they faced the altar, and put the others in a neat stack near the door.
Something was still missing. Personality, essence, I realized, but that would have to come with time and use. Maybe I could pick up a flameless candle, run it on batteries. There needed to be an offering plate for prayers, grains, flowers, stones. I’d have to look around the shops. Both on the ship, and, I laughed at myself, in port.
“The rooms look good.” Hans stood in the doorway, smiling.
“Thanks. It’s a work in progress. Is it safe to leave stuff out, or does it walk away? Like statues and crystals.”
“There are always some light fingers on a trip,” Hans replied. “Usually, guests. Some of them feel purchase of a cruise ticket means they can abscond with anything not bolted down. If it’s something you really love, keep it locked up in the cabinet whenever you’re not in the room. Even when you lock the studio.”
I nodded at the meditation room. “I’d like this room to be accessible all the time, even if the yoga room isn’t.”
Hans shrugged, running one hand over his light buzz cut. “Like I said, if it means a lot to you, lock it up when you’re not here. Only leave items out that are easily replaced.”
“Ah, good, good, good, you�
�re both here.” A slender, dark-haired man, jogged up to us. He was taller than me, shorter than Hans. “Jumping into the breach, making the space your own I see. I’m Jacques, the spa director. Are you doing a class this evening, before the first dinner seating? Say, five-thirty?”
“6:30 is what’s on the schedule.” I swallowed. “That’s what Geri and I did.”
“Perfect, perfect, perfect. I’m sure the diehard yoginis love it. How early do you start?”
“According to my schedule, the first session is at 7 AM.”
“For now, for now, but we’ll have to see what kind of requests we get.” Jacques waved a hand.
“She is not starting at five-thirty,” Hans said, in a tone that brooked no argument.
I kept quiet. It sounded like they’d had this sparring match before.
“No, no, no, of course not, I wasn’t suggesting—”
“Yes, you were,” Hans continued, in the same blunt tone. “You always try to get them to start at five-thirty. Not happening.”
“We’ll see.” Jacques winked at me.
I took the risk. “Actually, I have a few ideas I’d like to run past—”
“Sure, sure, sure, we’ll talk.” Jacques flapped his hand in my direction again. I wanted to smack it out of the way. “Find me if you need anything.” He trotted back toward the gilt-edged spa door.
“He is a wanker,” Hans said, and I giggled. “I mean it,” Hans continued. “The schedule is 7 AM, 11 AM, 2 PM, 3:30 PM, 6:30 PM, and the occasional night class. Geri always tried to get out of the 2 o’clock Pilates; you can decide if you want to keep it, or drop it, depending on attendance. There are always VIPS like Kristina Murray who will insist on private sessions, and you have to find a way to fit them into the schedule. Jacques will try to make you add back-to-back classes. You will be exhausted as it stands, you will need to learn to pace yourself, and not do every class full-out or you will burn out.”
“I’ll remember that,” I promised. “I would like to do a Moonlight Yoga class at least once, maybe out on deck.”
“Talk with Amy. If that one gives you any trouble, let me know.” He pointed at the spa doors.
