Terror at Sea: Three mysteries aboard a cruise ship

by Debby Mayne

  “No, really, I’m fine. Just embarrassed.” She pushed to her feet. “I have a job to do. Thank you, gentlemen.” Her cheeks reddened. Squaring her shoulders, she gave them a nod, and marched out of sight.

  She’d seemed troubled. Almost frightened. He decided to find her after dinner and see whether she needed his help.

  After he finished eating, Lance strolled the ship. He found Molly leaning on the railing, staring out at the inky water. The moon lit the tips of her curls with silver. The evening’s salty breeze teased at her hair and the hem of her skirt. He’d never seen a lovelier vision. The vulnerable expression on her face tugged at his heart. For the first time since stepping onboard, he questioned his plan of using her for a fling.

  She wasn’t like the other women he’d dated. Molly exuded innocence with the girl next door charm. No, he wouldn’t toy with her affections. He’d settle for friendship. Someone to pass the time with while onboard.

  Without speaking, he moved in beside her and gazed over the wide expanse of the ocean, marveling at God’s creation. Waves lapped against the boat. He raised his head to watch the lone seagull soar overhead.

  He’d visited the vastness of Montana, the mountains of Alabama, and now gazed over an endless ocean. It’d been a long time since he’d contemplated on anything God did. Work took up too much of his time. He needed this break. Hopefully, the cruise would heal more than a bullet hole in his shoulder.

  Molly jerked. “Are you following me?” She turned to face him.

  Did that frighten her? “Are you running?”

  She gave a delicate shrug. “Depends. The ship is full of women who have the time to spend with you. Why does it seem that you’re focused on me?”

  “I don’t know.” She was right. Something about her drew him to her. Maybe it was her impish ways. A light-hearted woman like Molly would feel like a vacation after Abigail and her moods. Who was he kidding? Life as a detective didn’t leave time for romance.

  “It seems like something’s bothering you,” Lance said when she turned back to the sea. “Can I help?”

  “Not unless you’re a cop.” The words slipped out as if they’d been coated with butter. Molly clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “This might be your lucky day.” Lance motioned toward a nearby bench. “Let’s sit.”

  *

  Molly shook her head. “No, I’m just running off at the mouth. See you in the morning.” She practically ran back to her cabin. Idiot. What was she thinking? If the man in the photo knew she’d told anyone, she’d be next. Killers were all the same. She read books. She watched movies. There was a target on her back as big as the ship.

  She paused, remembering the man who’d raced past her before the ship left the dock. He’d had salt-and-pepper hair. Could he have been running from the scene of the crime? Was that why he didn’t want his picture taken? She’d keep the information filed in her brain in case she needed to tell someone.

  Molly inserted her key and turned the handle. Nothing. She banged on it. Sounds of locks being released came from the other side. The door cracked open. Hilga peered through a crack. “I have company. Come back later.”

  “It’s my room, too.” Molly glanced both ways down the hall. Her heart raced like the massive engines beneath them.

  “Please?” Hilga opened the door a bit wider and gave a puppy dog look.

  Gag! Couldn’t the woman think of someone other than herself? Would Molly have to deal with this type of immorality the entire cruise?

  “Fine.” She stomped to the elevators and pushed the up button. She might as well take photos in the casino. Even if she was off the clock. It beats sitting around, waiting for her roommate to get her kicks and a killer to find her. If she couldn’t stay locked in her cabin, then the next best place was a room full of people. Being alone on deck had been stupid. She could be shark bait right now.

  The music of coins clanked in metal trays, winners shouted, and shrieking laughter rang. A loud, crazy place. She roamed the aisles and snapped photos of folks with their arms wrapped around buckets of silver. She was glad to see the cruise line hadn’t progressed to paper tickets. The sound of winnings spilling out was a happy sound. One woman held the skirt of her dress beneath the slot machine’s spout as quarters spilled over. Molly laughed as she snapped the photo.

  The man she’d fallen on during dinner sat in the Keno section. Mr. Morrison, Lance called him. He rested his head in his hands. Molly veered in another direction. No way was she going to get in his way again. She moved upstairs to the lounge and glanced over the banister to people watch.

  Her gaze locked with Lances’ and she froze. The man had to be stalking her! She tried to keep from staring, but who could when her eyes rested on a man as handsome as a movie star. She shook her head. No time for love. She had work to do.

  She smiled and stepped back to ask for a glass of water from the barmaid. Once she’d received her drink, she located an empty table, then sat and slipped off her shoes.

  She glanced up from rubbing her feet. Robert sauntered in and chose a stool in front of the bar. Lance climbed the stairs soon after. His face split with a grin when he spotted Molly, and he strolled in her direction. The man was nothing if not persistent.

  “You must be extremely bored.” Molly twirled her glass in the puddle of condensation on the table.

  “Why? Because I prefer the company of a beautiful woman to being alone?” Lance slid onto the seat across from her.

  “Why me?”

  “I’m intrigued. Your comment about needing a cop put every one of my instincts on edge.”

  Her nerves snapped to attention. She needed to get out of there. “I’m not a criminal!” Is that what he thought? “There are a number of reasons why I might need a police officer.”

  “I didn’t say you were, but your actions are more suspicious now, than they were earlier.” Lance lifted his hand to signal the waitress. “You can’t leave a comment like that one hanging and not have me take the bait. If you’d hung around long enough, I could’ve told you I’m a cop.”

  Molly gnawed the inside of her cheek. Should she tell him? Antonio said they should keep it to themselves until they docked at the next port. She should have informed the captain. Could she get in trouble for not doing so? With a deep breath, she shoved her hand inside her camera bag and withdrew the picture.

  “See anything suspicious?” She slid it across the table. The weight on her shoulders going along for the ride.

  After a few moments to study it, Lance frowned. His piercing gaze clashed with hers. “Where did you get this?”

  “I took it this morning.” She tapped the image of a man’s frame in the window. “Antonio, the photo tech, pointed that out to me during dinner.”

  Lord, let Lance be one of the good guys.

  “Do others know?” He handed it back to her.

  Molly shook her head and shoved the photo out of sight. “I’m afraid to tell anyone.”

  “Where did you take this?”

  “In front of the warehouse before the ship sailed.”

  He stood. “Come on. We need to show this to the captain.”

  Her throat tightened. “I didn’t know what to do, and I’m hiding from every man whose silhouette could possibly match that one. Antonio said he caught a glimpse of the side of the killer’s face, and he has salt and pepper hair. He wore a polo shirt.” Just like the rude man from earlier. She hesitated, not wanting to finish her thought, but he needed to know everything, if he was going to help her. She licked suddenly dry lips to moisten them. “And that he glanced at me when my camera’s flash went off.”

  “We don’t know for sure that anyone was killed.”

  Indignation colored her vision. Was he questioning her credibility? “Antonio saw the man fall to the floor.”

  “Why didn’t he say something then?”

  Molly shrugged. “He’s probably scared.”

  “Let’s talk to Antonio first. This should have gone
straight to the captain before we set sail. Where is Antonio now?”

  “Most likely his cabin. He’s down the hall from me.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Passengers aren’t allowed downstairs.”

  “If we’re caught, I’ll flash my badge and deal with the questions then.”

  Like an eager puppy, Molly followed, almost running to keep up with Lance’s long strides. Having his arm in a sling didn’t seem to slow him down any. Obviously, when the man was on a mission he had a one-track mind. She caught up, and out of the corner of her eye, noted his firm chin set like marble, the hard glint in his eye. Wait a minute! How did she know he was who he said he was? Maybe he was the killer. He didn’t have salt and pepper hair, but he could’ve colored it.

  She skidded to a halt. “Can I see some identification?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You haven’t proven to me that you’re a police officer.”

  Lance rolled his eyes and pulled his badge from his pocket. “Satisfied?”

  Molly inspected the engraved metal. “Is it real?”

  “Yes. You can call the mainland and check if you’d like.”

  “I believe you.”

  Their quick pace continued until they stopped outside Antonio’s cabin. Molly knocked. They waited a few seconds, and she knocked again. Lance reached across her and tried the door. It swung open. She felt the blood drain from her face to her toes. Noxious odors stung her nostrils. Nausea rose.

  Antonio lay sprawled across one of the single beds with a plastic bag tied around his face.

  3

  L ance rubbed a hand over his face. So much for a vacation. He’d landed smack dab in the middle of a murder investigation at sea. Unless Molly’s camera had caught one on land as well. The first trickle of excitement ran down his spine. Who needed rest and relaxation anyway? “We definitely need to speak with the captain.”

  Molly nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “Poor Antonio.” She turned. “I’ll get Captain Barker.”

  “Okay. I’ll make sure no one enters the room. No, wait!” Her back stiffened. The last thing Molly needed to do after snapping that photo was to wander the ship alone. “Call him. Under no circumstances should you be alone. Understand?”

  Her lips tightened. “Yes.” She moved to the phone on the wall. “This is Molly Nicholson. I need to speak with Captain Barker, please. I don’t care where he is!” Her voice shrilled. “Send him to Antonio’s cabin.”

  Lance placed a hand on Molly’s shoulder. “Calm down. It’ll be okay.” He cringed at the lame, clichéd attempt at placating a hysterical woman.

  She hung up the phone and slumped to the floor. Lance slid down beside her and placed his arm around her shoulders to pull her close. There was no denying the fact she felt good there. Soft, warm, and all female. But, he found himself at a loss. His former partner had always taken over in situations like this one. He missed her. He led Molly to a chair and lowered her into it as a red-faced man wearing a bathrobe burst into the room. “Stay here.”

  “I’m Captain Barker. What is so all-fired important?” His gaze swept the room and stopped on Antonio. “Oh.” The captain released the word in a loud sigh, and he took a step back. “What’s going on?”

  Lance pulled his badge from his pocket. “Detective Lance Spencer. LAPD. Molly found him.”

  Captain Barker frowned. “Are you here on business?”

  “No, it was a vacation.” Until he’d decided to get to know a curly-haired blonde a little better. He’d always been a sucker for a pretty face, but nothing in his life prepared him for murder on a cruise ship. How different could it be?

  Barker turned to Molly. “Miss Nicholson, please contact the chief purser, the doctor, and security. Keep it quiet. No need for the passengers to find out. Detective, perhaps you could explain in greater detail.” He tightened the sash around his waist, hiding the sweat pants beneath.

  Lance retrieved the photo from Molly’s camera bag. “This was taken this morning by Miss Nicholson and printed by Antonio. We have no proof there was a murder committed on land, but there’s no denying we’re looking at one now.”

  “This has never happened on a Midnight Cruise before. Definitely not on the Destiny.” The Captain glanced at the picture and returned it as if it might catch fire. “Could it be suicide?”

  “Seriously?” Was the man for real? Lance raised his eyebrows. He’d heard of it before, but only extremely rare cases.

  Captain Barker shook his head. “No. I’m grasping at straws. I can’t believe we have a possible murder to deal with now.”

  Lance nodded. “I’m not sure what to do in regard to a crime at sea. Do we need to call the FBI?”

  “They only have jurisdiction twelve miles from shore. We can get them involved if someone’s killed in Hawaii. Otherwise, it’s up to our senior vice president of security, or SVP as we call him, to wrap things up, along with the help of Hawaii’s finest. We’ll contact them at port.”

  Lance rolled his head, trying to remove the crick taking up residence between his shoulder blades. “I think if we notify the FBI of a possible murder stateside, they’ll check into it and get involved. If for nothing else but to ask questions.”

  The captain sighed again. “And detain us.” He straightened his shoulders. “Nothing to be done about it. The safety of the passengers comes first.”

  *

  Molly choked down the threatening nausea. She’d barely kept it at bay since she’d seen Antonio’s body, and kept her face averted while she followed the captain’s orders and waited. She hung up and leaned back to listen to the two men’s conversation. Staying longer on a Hawaiian Island didn’t sound too bad to her.

  The purser and SVP, both over six feet,one thin, the other burly, stepped into the room as if marching to a guillotine. The purser graying on the sides, while the SVP sported a military crew cut.

  The captain greeted them with a stern look. “Business goes on as usual, folks. No need for those not directly involved to get wind of this.”

  The SVP, Jack Morley, pulled a master key from his pocket. “This cabin stays locked. Make up a story for Antonio’s roommate, and he can bunk somewhere else. We need to question the other employees. We’ll set up a staff meeting as soon as possible; see whether anyone saw anything.” He shook his head. “I don’t have the personnel for this.”

  “I’ll help.” Lance spoke up. “I’ve worked the homicide division for five years. I’ll also personally keep Miss Nicholson in my sight. She could be in danger.”

  Molly’s heart lurched. She took a deep breath. Lance’s presence would make her feel safer. At least from someone else. In regard to him, he gazed at her as if he’d like to have her for dessert. Her face heated. Despite her protests, she didn’t think spending a lot of time with Lance was a bad thing.

  Exhaustion slammed her like a rogue wave. “Can I go to my cabin now?” She wanted nothing more than to escape the horrors of the day.

  Lance nodded. “I’ll take you. Gentlemen, I’ll return once she’s safely locked in her cabin.”

  Molly exited before him and set off at a quick pace. Her heels thudded against the carpeted floor. The empty corridor left her feeling exposed. On a ship that boasted of two employees for each passenger, the halls were usually difficult to traverse. Crew members flirted, rushed to their next post, tried to catch a quick nap, or rendezvous with their latest flame. Everything would change. Now, they’d be looking over their shoulders for a murderer.

  Lance towered over her. She felt safety in his presence. She stopped in front of her cabin, turned, hand gripping the doorknob. “Thank you.”

  His hand shot out to stop her. “Don’t open the door for anyone but your roommate. Keep it locked. She has a key she can use to get in. I should check the room before you enter.”

  “Okay.” She paused. What if Hilga had company again? She knocked, then pushed the door open when no one answered. “It’s fine. Thanks again.” She stepped inside, c
losed and locked it behind her before Lance could catch sight of the mess Hilga’d left. Her gaze scanned the cramped space. Piles of Hilga’s clothes littered the floor. Makeup bottles cluttered the dresser. Cheap perfume vapors filled the air.

  Nowhere for anyone to hide, other than the shower. She should’ve asked Lance to check for her. She shoved aside the cream-colored vinyl curtain. Empty. A sob caught her throat.

  After placing her camera bag on the dresser, Molly fell across her bed and allowed the tears she’d held in to have full rein. Her first day on the job and her only friend onboard, brutally murdered. Photography was supposed to be a safe occupation!

  Lord, what have I gotten myself into? Poor Antonio. All he cared about was living the high-life, making some money, and chasing women.

  She couldn’t get the image of his swollen face out of her mind. Grabbing her pillow, Molly smashed it over her face. Maybe she should ask the ship’s doctor for a sleeping aid. Anything to wipe away the image.

  The door handle jiggled, then someone banged on the other side. Molly sat up with a shriek.

  “Molly! Why’s the door locked? Let me in.” Hilga’s irate German tone alerted Molly to her irritation. She obviously hadn’t heard about Antonio. Or maybe she had and panicked as she tried to get in.

  “Are you alone?” Molly pressed her face against the wood.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “What is going on? Stop asking questions and let me in.”

  After letting her in, she quickly relocked the door. “Did you hear about Antonio?”

  Hilga started unbuttoning her shirt. “No.” She let her uniform fall to the floor and stepped into the bathroom. “What’d he do now?”

  “Someone killed him.”

  Hilga peered around the corner. “What?”

  “Smothered. With a plastic bag. I’m sure you’ll find out in the morning. There’s going to be a meeting.” Molly flopped back onto her bed. “We aren’t supposed to go anywhere alone.”