by Ava Dunne
“Thank you.” Hans was intimidating, but it was nice to know he was in my corner.
…
The 7 AM class went without a hitch. I had about fifteen people, including Lydia, and the man who’d been to almost every class all week, taking the same spot on the floor. A couple of the women were talking about the handsome guy with the limp they’d met in the Tiki Bar the first night, and how they disappointed they were at not seeing him last night to get to know him better. Which meant Detective Cooke must have been working all night on Geri’s death. Maybe we’d have answers soon. I wasn’t about to reveal where he’d been, or what he’d been doing.
At the end of class, Lydia waved on her way out the door, as a woman asked me if the mats were cleaned after every class. I assured her they were. I wasn’t sure if she believed me, but she dropped it.
The man waited until the studio was empty and I’d started cleaning the mats before approaching me. “Are you taking over for Geri?” He was in his early thirties, light brown hair, brown eyes, and an open, pleasant face. He was the only one who’d bothered to ask about her. It made me sad that no one in class seemed to notice, or care that she was gone.
“For the moment. She had a personal emergency.”
“Neil.” He offered his hand. “Neil Wallace. I’m a frequent guest.”
“Sophie.”
“You teach a good class,” said Neil. “Better than Geri’s.”
“Thank you.”
He slung his mat bag over his shoulder, started to leave, and paused at the door. “You don’t need to take the party line with me, Sophie. Like I said, I’m a frequent guest. I spend more time on Diamond Line Cruise ships than on land. I know.”
He left before I could respond.
Now that there was a place for everything and everything in its place, clean-up was faster. I had the mats clean and spread out to dry lickety-split, and dashed up to the crew dining room to gulp a bit of breakfast before my session with Kristina Murray. I was aware of the stares, of talk stopping as I walked past, then starting up at a quieter, higher pitch. I didn’t see Roz, but Harmonia was at a table, and I joined her.
“How are you this morning?” She asked.
“Coping,” I said. “Where’s Roz?”
“Sleeping in, I’m sure.”
“Does she really drink that much all the time?”
“She’s such an actress,” said Harmonia. “She waves around the bottle and encourages everyone else to drink, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drunk since I’ve known her.”
“What do you know about Dhruv Bakshi, the Chief Security Officer?”
“He’s a good guy,” said Harmonia. “I don’t know him very well. He was dating a woman on the Chantal for awhile, but I don’t know if they’re still together. The security staff is onboard is well-trained. Subtle, discreet, but they won’t let the passengers abuse the crew, which some of the passengers think is included in payment. I had a problem a few months back when someone broke into my tarot room onboard, trashed it, wrote horrible things all over the walls in red paint. Dhruv tracked down the passenger who did it, one of those religious fanatics who can’t stand anything outside their own narrow views. The guy was put off the ship at the next stop and prosecuted. I worked on a different line, which shall remain nameless, and they would have told me to get over it and covered it up. Put more emphasis on soothing the guest than protecting the crew. Even Amy, goddess love her, whose job it is to put the guests first, wasn’t about to put up with that crap.”
“That’s a relief,” I said.
“Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Dhruv’s pretty hot. In addition to the whole being good at his job and even-tempered most of the time.” Harmonia grinned when I blushed. “Hey, I meant to ask you before and I forgot: Can I show up to class sometimes? I miss a regular yoga practice, and I’m allowed to take class with the guests.”
“Any time there’s room,” I said. “You didn’t take Geri’s classes?”
Harmonia shook her head. “Geri had a darkness in her, a tension. Instead of feeling refreshed when I left her class, I felt depressed.”
“Did you ever read her cards?”
“Even if I did, I couldn’t talk about it,” Harmonia replied. “But no. Geri avoided me as much as possible.”
“Who was Geri’s roommate?”
“Angie Castillo.”
I frowned. “Angie’s my roommate. Or I’m hers. I mean, she had the room first.”
“Angie moved cabins when a couple of waitresses quit. She knew she’d be getting a new roommate. I’m sure Geri was trying to keep the room to herself, but she wasn’t high enough up in the rankings to do so. Although that might be why she started sleeping with Viktor.”
“Viktor could help her keep her own room?”
“Doubtful, but Geri wouldn’t be with him unless she saw him as the means to some end she wanted. Maybe she just wanted to sleep in a room with a view some nights. Officers’ quarters have windows and are above the waterline.”
“Do you know why Angie switched rooms?”
“Would you want to share a cabin with Geri?”
“No. It was difficult enough to work with her.”
“Angie was Geri’s sixth or seventh roommate. Angie’s sweet as can be; can get along with almost anyone. The only nicer person on the ship is Lorna, who’s one of the dancers.”
I remembered something. Something I’d forgotten to tell Duncan Cooke the day before.
“Sophie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. It can’t be that shocking that Geri didn’t get along with most people.”
“When you and Roz found me last night, in the hallway, where were we?”
“Pearl Deck, one of the passenger decks. Passenger decks are named for gemstones.”
“Do you know which room?”
Harmonia thought for a minute. “1285.”
“If the detective’s still there, I need to talk to him.”
“He might have commandeered the room just for the night, to ask questions.”
“I need to check.”
“You’ll get in trouble if you’re on the passenger deck. I’ll go. If anyone asks, I’ll say he asked for a private reading.”
“I thought private readings had to be in your room on the Promenade Deck. Not in the cabins.”
“Doesn’t mean they don’t ask. If he’s there, I’ll tell him you need to talk to him. If he’s not there, I’ll get my hands on a passenger list and find out which cabin is his, and you can leave a note.”
“I don’t want to put you in an awkward position. I could always hunt down Chief Bakshi in the security office.”
“You’re not.” Harmonia glanced at the clock. “Time for you to make nice with your VIP client. I’ll find the sexy detective.”
I laughed. “That’s why you want to hunt him down.”
“He’s a little too confident in his charm for his own good,” said Harmonia. “I like looking at him, but he’s not my type. Go, or you’ll be late.”
“Thanks.” I cleared my dishes and headed out, ignoring the stares and whispers as I left.
…
A pretty, dark-haired young woman in a blue cabin steward uniform opened the door to the Sanctuary Suite on the Penthouse Deck. She looked familiar, but then, with the amount of people I interacted with in a single day in the finite space of the boat, everyone started to look familiar.
“Good morning, I’m Daciana,” the young woman said. “I’m clearing up some of the breakfast things.”
“She ate before class?” The words and the dubious tone popped out of my mouth before I could control them.
Daciana’s laugh sounded like a cascade of bells. “No, she didn’t. He did.”
The “he” in question glided out of the unseen portion of the cabin and into view. Orrin Flaherty was a movie star in the ranks of a Tom Cruise, a George Clooney, a Bradley Cooper, although some polls had him pulling ahead. He was a tall, well-built man in his late thirties, with gl
eaming dark hair and sparking hazel eyes. Broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, defined muscles that were just right without being over-the-top, he was many a woman’s fantasy man. He was dressed in a plain gray tee shirt and darker gray sweatpants. “I’m headed out,” he called over his shoulder, fastening his watch. He turned and saw us. “Good morning, Daciana,” he said. “Did you book Kristina’s massage with Kiki for 1:30?”
“Yes, Mr. Flaherty.”
“Thank you. My wife feels comfortable with her.” He turned his attention to me, looking me straight in the eye, which won my respect. “You’re Sophie? The yoga instructor?”
I found my voice. “Yes, sir.”
He flashed the grin studios paid millions to film. “‘Sir’ is my father,” he said, “and you better believe I still call him that. Nice to meet you, Sophie. Everything here is top of the line.”
Well of course it is, you paid about thirty grand just for the week was the thought that ran through my head. Instead, I said, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“We need the rest. Got a lot of scripts to read, you know, before we go in front of the cameras again. Take good care of my girl.” He stepped past us and was gone.
I took a few more steps into the suite and gasped. “Wow,” I said. “Wow.”
“Isn’t it magnificent?” Daciana laughed again.
“I’ll say.” The suite was at an angle, with two walls of the living space floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a terraced garden, with views further out to the ocean. The ship was well at sea, and there was an expanse of blue water and blue sky. The furniture in the suite was all dark teaks and cream-colored upholstery—some leathers, some silks. I trailed my fingers along the back of a leather couch, and understood what was meant by “butter-soft leather.” Chrome and glass accents and plants, which complimented those outside, provided decor. Two tall stacks of scripts were piled on the coffee table, their edges aligned.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.” One of the most famous actresses of the time, Kristina Murray, stepped into the room. I remembered the awards Murray won for both comedy and drama, and, having seen all her movies, believed they were well-deserved.
In person, Kristina was smaller and more delicate-looking than she was on screen, with long blonde hair now caught up in a bun and wide gray eyes. Tiny diamonds sparkled from her ears, and she wore dark blue yoga pants and a red top printed with a lotus. She was stunningly beautiful, even without much make-up, and it was more her essence than her looks that struck me. She held herself with a quiet power. And, I realized, a sadness.
“You haven’t.” I felt a need to reassure her.
“You’re kind.” Kristina smiled and it felt as though the sun peeked out from behind a cloud. “Thank you, Daciana. I’ve ordered a room service breakfast for twenty minutes after class ends. That will give me time to shower.”
“Of course, Ms. Murray. I will come back and finish the suite then? Or do you want me to clean while you are working?”
“You can clean while we’re in session,” said Kristina. Everything looked spotless to me, but maybe paying 30K for a week made dust more visible. Kristina turned to me. “I thought we’d practice out on the deck? It’s not too windy; we won’t blow off the side.”
“Wherever you’re most comfortable,” I said.
Kristina led the way to the sliding glass doors and pushed one open, stepping out onto the deck. I followed, and paused, sensing Daciana slide the door closed behind us.
“Wow,” I said. “This is magnificent.” I smelled and tasted the salt in the air, the ocean breeze, with just a hint of ship’s oil below it.
“It is. We’ve got a lovely ocean view at home in Malibu, of course, and a beautiful mountain view in Aspen, but nothing like this,” said Kristina. She rolled out a thick purple mat, and placed a yoga blanket, some blocks, and a strap close by.
I had prepared three different sequences, and asked a few questions to gauge Kristina’s comfort level. It turned out that Kristina practiced every day, and always had a yoga teacher on set when she filmed. I pushed away the sense of intimidation, that whatever teacher Kristina paid must be far more experienced and skilled than I was, and started putting Kristina through the sequence.
The hour and fifteen minutes flew. Kristina liked working her core, which was strong, and liked, but struggled with some of the arm balances. I took a gentle but firm tone that kept her on track, not letting her do only what she wanted, making sure she worked all the muscle groups, without putting too much pressure on any one of them.
“That was terrific.” Kristina opened her eyes and sat up after the twenty minutes of savasana I insisted on. There was still a sheen of perspiration on her skin, but her eyes were brighter and had lost that haunted quality. “Thanks for not letting me get away with anything. I do try, you know.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed.” I smiled at her. I’d made use of the time Kristina was in savasana, too, sitting in lotus, enjoying the deck and trying to clear my head of all the conflicting thoughts. The session had been as restorative for me as it had for Kristina.
“Thank you, and I’ll see you tomorrow, same time.” It was not a question. Kristina was used to getting her own way.
“Of course.” I rolled up my mat. “Where do you want your yoga gear?”
Kristina was already halfway into the suite. “Oh, leave it anywhere in the living area. Daciana will clean everything and put it away. You can see yourself out, right? I’m getting in the shower.”
“Of course.” I swallowed back the sense of being dismissed. I was an employee, and it was Kristina’s right so to do. I gathered up the actress’s mat and props, and piled them on the inside of the door, carefully sliding it closed. I stood in the room for a minute, hearing the shower turn on in the bathroom, and glanced around at the luxury of the suite. It would be nice to travel like this, I thought, remembering the tiny room I shared with Angie that didn’t even have a window. I needed to spend more time on deck.
…
The eleven o’clock class was filled with more experienced practitioners, so I upped the ante and had them work up a good sweat. I alternated longer flow sequences with poses held for more breaths. One woman started to hyperventilate. I placed a soothing hand on her shoulder, willing her to relax, and she calmed down. Another woman tried to sneak out without doing the savasana; I stopped her. “Nope, you have to stay for the entire class; no coming in late or leaving early, as I said in the beginning, as is posted on the door, and is in the welcome packets.”
“But savasana makes me uncomfortable,” the woman said.
“Which is exactly why you need to lie with it,” I declared.
“Even better than this morning’s,” said Neil Wallace, on his way out the door.
“Thank you?” I called after him. I wondered why he took so many cruises. Was he lonely? Was he rich? Was it any of my business?
A quick knock, and Detective Cooke peered around the door. “Ms. Ocean said you had something to tell me?”
“Yes. I remembered two things about yesterday that I forgot to tell you in all the…commotion.”
“I’m listening.”
“One is that a guy named Gary stopped by to talk to Geri after the 11 AM class. After Hans told her about the schedule change. She said she didn’t have time for him. I don’t know who he is or if it matters.”
“At this point, everything matters,” said Detective Cooke.
“The second is that, after lunch, I got lost. I wound up on one of the other decks. I think it’s A deck? I’m pretty sure it was a crew deck, not a passenger deck. Anyway, Geri was arguing with someone. A man. I didn’t recognize his voice.”
“Do you know what time it was?”
“A little before two o’clock? I was on my way back to the studio to teach the 2 PM Pilates. I don’t know, exactly.”
“Could you find the room again? Or at least the corridor?”
“I could try. In all my spare time.” I rolled my eyes.
“It would help.”
I nodded. “Okay. I’ll try.”
“I’ve commandeered Room 1285 on the Pearl Deck for the investigation,” said Detective Cooke. “Look for me there any time. If anyone hassles you about it, I’ll handle it.” He paused, then added, “If you need me when I’m not in there, I’m in Room 1612 on the Topaz Deck.”
I was glad he turned and walked away, because my mouth dropped open, and I stood there, gaping like an idiot.
CHAPTER FIVE
NO ONE SHOWED UP FOR the 2 PM Pilates, not even Lydia. I snuck into the crew bar and grabbed a banana and a granola bar, avoiding everyone. I ate on the run, and found Amy to set up the Moonlight Yoga class.
“You’re getting compliments on the content of your classes,” said Amy. “Neil Wallace made a point of stopping in.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Neil is a regular guest,” said Amy. “We like to keep him happy. I’ll put you on the schedule for your Moonlight Yoga.”
“Thank you.” I fled back to the studio to prepare for the 3:30. Chief Bakshi waited outside the door. He looked at the meditation room with longing.
“Can I help you?” I asked, unlocking the door.
He followed me inside, taking off his shoes without being asked. “This is nice,” he said, looking around. “It feels very different than when it was Geri’s.”
“Do you practice?”
“I used to, when I was a child, and into my teens, even early twenties. I’ve let my yoga and meditation practices slip.” He shrugged. “Like so much else.”
“Are you allowed to take class with the guests? You’re welcome any time. I’m keeping the meditation room open twenty-four hours a day, too.”
“That’s kind. Geri would never even think to make that offer to staff or crew.”
“At least she’s not haunting the place.”
He gave me a sharp look. “Be careful how you joke.”
“Sorry. Part of me wishes Geri would come back and haunt the place. Maybe we could get some answers.”
He watched me. “Do you speak to spirits?”
I shook my head. “Not me. But there must be someone on the ship who can.”
