Terror at Sea: Three mysteries aboard a cruise ship

by Debby Mayne

  Owen shrugged. “It’s been classified as a suicide.”

  “On whose authority?”

  “Morley’s.” Owen rolled his neck. “Look, if you have a threatening note, you can give it to me, and I’ll pass it to the SVP.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Lance planted his good hand on the desktop and leaned closer. “Antonio’s death was not a suicide. Anyone who thinks so is an imbecile. People do not put plastic bags over their heads on purpose.”

  “Sure they do.” Owen spun in his chair and pushed a button on the computer behind him. “I did some research. It’s rare, but it happens. Most of them have some kind of gas in the bag, but maybe Antonio didn’t have any on hand. It wasn’t a secret how heartbroken he was.”

  “Of all the idiotic—” Anger simmered like water in a boiling pot, overflowing inside of Lance. He grabbed a deep breath to calm his racing pulse. He’d find Agent Cohn. Maybe he’d listen to reason. “Make a copy of the note and hand me back the original, please.”

  “Sure thing.” Owen placed the paper on a copier and pressed Start. A green light glowed beneath the lid. “If you want to investigate further, that’s your prerogative.” Once the copy was made, he handed the original back to Lance. “Good luck.”

  Lance whirled and stalked out of the office. Outside, he leaned against the wall and rubbed his hand over his face. Something was fishy on board the Destiny, and he’d be hanged if he’d leave Molly’s safety in the hands of men who couldn’t see the shore for the ocean.

  He’d make sure Molly didn’t suffer Abby’s fate, or that of Antonio’s. Without cooperation from security, he wasn’t sure how he’d accomplish the feat, but he’d do it. With God’s help. Or he’d die trying.

  Fatigue dogged his steps on the way to his stateroom. Fortitude alone wouldn’t make him any use to anyone unless he got some sleep. He glanced at his watch. Four hours until he had to pick up Molly. It’d have to be enough.

  Why wasn’t the perpetrator sending him messages? Trying to take him out of the picture? Being onboard, the perp would know Lance stayed glued to Molly’s side. Getting him out of the way would clear a path to her. It didn’t make sense. Maybe after some shut-eye he’d see things more clearly.

  I could use some help here, God. Some clarity.

  He turned the corner and almost ran into the backs of Morrison and the chief Purser, Bob Dickson. He ducked behind a pillar.

  “What do you mean my account is empty?” Morrison’s voice rang through the empty corridor.

  “Lower your voice, please. Guests are sleeping.”

  “I will not lower my voice! I’ve been robbed. Someone needs to look into it. You’re obviously mistaken.”

  “It’s exactly what I said,” Bob explained, “you’ll need to transfer funds from somewhere. There isn’t enough for you to pay for this cruise. If the money isn’t there by five p.m. today, we’ll set you off at the next port.”

  “You can’t do that!” Morrison’s hands balled into fists. “Someone will pay for this.”

  Morrison out of money? Lance gnawed the inside of his cheek. What about the funds he supposedly embezzled? Did Cohn know about this? Did the FBI freeze Morrison’s assets? Lance knew from experience a man backed into a corner was a dangerous one. If Morrison was the killer and Molly his target, the threat had escalated.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Lance peeked to see the SVP striding down the hall.

  “The credit card Mr. Morrison is using for expenses on this cruise has been denied. We’ll have no other option than to leave him at port.”

  “I’ll handle this, Bob. You can go back to your post.” Jack Morley gripped Morrison’s arm. “This is not the place to do this. Come with me.”

  Lance kept the pillar between him and the two men, stepping into the open when they’d marched past. His gut told him something bigger than an empty bank account was at the bottom of Morrison having no money. He intended to find out what. In the meantime, he’d keep whatever information he dug up between him and Cohn.

  The two men disappeared around the corner. By the time Lance rounded the turn in the hall, they were nowhere in sight. The arrow above the elevator glowed.

  He rubbed his sleep-deprived eyes. Once he safely deposited Molly in the dining room, he’d hunt down Cohn.

  15

  M olly opened the door. Lance stood there looking like an unwanted dog. Hair stuck up straight on his head, whiskers colored his jaw line and chin, and red rimmed his eyes. “Did you get any sleep?”

  “About two hours.” Lance stepped aside to allow her to exit the cabin. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I only got four hours, but man, you look terrible.”

  “Thanks.” He reached around her and pulled the door closed. “Way to build up a guy’s self-esteem.”

  “Sorry.” Molly tilted her head. Like he needed a boost in that department. Somehow, she didn’t think he suffered too much from low self-esteem. “Where do you want to go first?”

  “Did I miss something?” Lance blinked repeatedly. “Don’t you have work to do?”

  “Not until we find Hilga.” That should be a no-brainer. At the forefront of his detective mind. “The ship docks in two hours. If we don’t find her by then, there’s no telling where she is. Kidnapped, maybe. Shanghaied. Dragged from the boat and dumped overboard.”

  Lance ran his hand through his hair, making it more disarrayed, and cuter than any man had a right to be. “You watch too many movies. She could’ve spent the night with her boyfriend.”

  “I’ve considered that. If she did, we’ll see her at breakfast.” Molly gave him what she hoped was a ‘cut-it-out-and be-serious’ look. “You need some coffee to soften your mood. Dining room first.” She headed in that direction as fast as her legs would carry her and prayed Hilga would be there, towering over the pastry bar, blond hair shoved beneath a hair net.

  Muted conversation greeted her from the half-full dining room. Warm mouth-watering aromas of sausage and maple syrup welcomed her stomach and alerted her to the fact she hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before. Hilga was nowhere to be seen. Molly’s heart sank. “She’s not here.”

  “Take some pictures. Ask the other crew members a few questions. Act normal. I’ll be at the back table with Agent Cohn.” Lance strolled toward the back of the room and chose the last empty seat at the table where Cohn and Morrison both sat.

  Molly raised her eyebrows, and then quickly turned away before she alerted the two men to Lance’s reason for choosing that particular table. Like Daniel in the lion’s den. At least that’s what it looked like to her. FBI agent or not, Cohn’s heavy forehead and deep-set eyes made him look mean.

  Morrison could be the nicest guy on the planet, but his salt-and-pepper hair made him suspicious right out of the gate. Especially since that was all they knew of the man in the photo. What could a one-armed Lance do if trouble rose?

  She scanned the dining room and counted at least fifteen men with the same color hair as Morrison. Were they focusing on the wrong man? Just because he was suspected for embezzling didn’t make him a murderer. No. She shook her head. Her gut told her he was the guilty one. She’d stick to that assumption unless proven wrong.

  She marched toward the buffet line. An Asian man, only a couple of inches taller than her five-foot-two-inches, cut thick slices of ham. “Excuse me? Have you seen Hilga?”

  “No. She not here.”

  “Have you seen her today?”

  “I say no. You not understand English?” He waved her away. “She no show up. Go away. I busy.”

  Molly bit her lip and glanced at Lance. He seemed to concentrate on the plate in front of him. Would he see her if she slipped out? She couldn’t stand around doing nothing when Hilga could be in danger. Lance chose to concentrate on Cohn and Morrison. Standing around would drive her nuts. Every minute counted. They needed to search the ship.

  She studied the rest of the crew me
mbers before approaching a dark-skinned girl with waist-length hair. Molly pulled a piece of paper from her camera bag, scribbled a note, and held it to the young woman. “See that man over there? The one with a sling? Could you give him this, please?”

  “Sure. I’d be glad to. He’s cute.” The girl winked, then sashayed toward Lance’s table.

  Molly rolled her eyes and slipped from the dining room. She paused in the Grand Foyer and allowed her gaze to roam the stairs heading upward. Which deck should she start on? Inside or outside? There were too many choices in a floating apartment building.

  Lance appeared at her elbow. “Where are we headed?”

  “No one has seen Hilga. I don’t know where to start.” The panic intensified, churning in her stomach. “I should’ve been a better friend. Found out her likes and dislikes. Then I might know where to start looking.”

  “You’ve known her less than a week, Molly. Don’t put that burden on yourself. Let’s think. When she left us last night, she wore her uniform. White shorts and a red shirt. Gym shoes on her feet.” Lance rubbed his chin. “Common attire for dress at sea, but the red, white, and blue of Midnight Cruise Lines’ colors might set her apart.”

  “How did you remember all that?” Molly glanced at the navy shirt she’d slept in. Wrinkles criss-crossed the front. The shorts were just as bad. She’d need to change before the purser saw her. What did her hair look like? She raised a hand to pat down her curls.

  “It’s my business to remember details.” Lance tucked her arm through his. “Let’s stroll outside. Clear our heads. We might think of something we’ve missed.”

  “Spencer!” Cohn jogged to join them. “Step over here a minute, will you? I’ve got to make this quick before we’re seen together.”

  Molly glanced at Lance. He shrugged, and they moved out of sight of the dining room. No way were they leaving her behind. She followed.

  Cohn crossed his arms. “Since you chose to sit at my table, I’m assuming you wanted to speak with me?”

  Lance nodded. “We’re missing a crew member.” He explained the happenings of the night before. “This is Molly Nicholson, the missing woman’s roommate. She’s also been receiving threats.”

  Molly’s heart sank with each word. Hearing it again reinforced her feeling that Hilga was in trouble. She planted fists on her hips and stepped in front of the agent. “What are you going to do about all this, Agent Cohn? We have two people dead, a murderer running loose, and now my roommate is missing.” And I don’t want to be next.

  “I’m working on it.” He tilted his head. “You keep taking pictures and leave this to the law enforcement officers.”

  Heat rose in her face. “Excuse me?” She leaned until her face was inches from his chest. She tilted her chin. “This concerns me. I’m being threatened. I will not step down and wait to be killed!”

  “Come on, Molly.” Lance snaked an arm around her waist.

  “Before you leave, Spencer,” Cohn eyed Molly a moment, and then transferred his attention to Lance, “I think your friend may have gone overboard.”

  “What?” Molly pulled free of Lance’s hold. “Why would you think that?”

  “Before breakfast, I heard a scream. Didn’t think much about it really. There’s a lot of noise on a crew ship.” Cohn dug in his pocket and pulled out a swatch of red cotton. “When I went outside, I didn’t see anything at first. I lit a cigarette and leaned against the railing. This fluttered a few inches over the side. Does it look familiar?”

  Molly took the scarlet scrap. “It looks like it could be from Hilga’s uniform top. So, instead of looking for the source of the scream, you smoked?”

  “While I searched, Miss Nicholson.” He narrowed his eyes. “There was nothing to see. No alarm had been sounded. No reason, until now, to think anyone had gone over.”

  Her throat burned from unshed tears. Poor Hilga. “We need to tell the captain.” She whirled and dashed toward the elevator.

  *

  “Molly!” Lance caught up with her at the elevators. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

  “She’s gone overboard. Pushed.”

  He pulled her hands away from her face and pulled her to his chest. “It’ll be all right.” He rubbed her back in circular motions to stop her shudders. “We don’t know that anything happened to her.”

  “Stop saying that!” She pulled free and glared up at him with a red, tear-streaked face. “Stop saying we don’t know. We do!” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t believe she got thrown overboard, or that something equally as bad happened to her.”

  “I can’t.” He struggled to keep his gaze locked on hers when all he wanted to do was look away. Her pain cut a raw path through his soul.

  “See, you think the same thing.” Molly’s knees buckled.

  Lance caught her and lowered her into a nearby chair. He knelt and took her hand in his. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I do think something has happened to her.” Molly’s hands trembled. “But I didn’t want you to worry more than you needed to.”

  “Worry?” Her eyes widened. “I’m terrified! If you weren’t with me all the time, I’d be shark bait right now. Instead, Antonio and Hilga are gone. Not to mention the stranger in the warehouse. How many more, Lance? Huh?”

  “It won’t happen to you, Molly. I promise.” He’d do everything in his power to make sure he kept that promise. Die, if he had to. He rubbed the tears from her face. God wouldn’t do that to him. Take the life of two women in his care. He refused to entertain the thought.

  “You can’t make that kind of promise.” She rose and pulled her hand free. “Let’s go see the captain.”

  When she stormed away it was like she sapped the warmth out of the room. A frigid fist seized Lance’s heart and squeezed. Molly had adopted a spirit of despair. They should’ve prayed. Now, she stood with slumped shoulders beside the elevator.

  Lord, don’t let me fail her. If he had any solid evidence to make an accusation, he’d haul the suspect in for questioning at the next port. But he didn’t. Now, a woman might be dead. The question is, why Hilga? What was her connection? The note she’d received from the boy in the arcade wasn’t enough to kill her, was it?

  And, the next name on the killer’s list could be Molly.

  16

  M olly waited in the Grand Foyer for Lance to shower and change. He’d kicked up a fuss, but finally relented when she said she ought to be safe enough in plain sight of the passengers.

  Her photographer’s eye noted the flushed, expectant faces of those leaving the ship. She couldn’t help but snap their pictures. Lord, why did You get me this job only to have it become a nightmare? I’m a good photographer. Great, in fact. Your word says You give us the desires of our heart. Isn’t this my desire? What am I missing?

  She blinked back tears and moved outside to the railing, stepping on the first rung in order to get a better shot, and lifted the Nikon. She adjusted the aperture. “Up here!”

  She waved to the honeymoon couple she’d seen on her first day. Still dressed as twins, they glanced up and waved. Molly clicked the shutter button. She’d love to follow them around and chronicle their honeymoon trip. See whether love really amounted to what people said it did.

  “There you are.” Lance laid a hand on her lower back. “Could you step back, please?”

  “Sorry.” Molly climbed down.

  He’d combed his hair, shaved, and splashed on more of his trademark cologne. Her back tingled where his hand rested. Maybe there was something to this love thing after all? She hated to think magnetism and infatuation ruled the hearts of mankind. Especially when a man with a crooked grin smiled down at her.

  “Hey, where’s your sling?” Instead of the usual dark blue canvas encasing his arm, she spotted the black vinyl strap of a backpack.

  “Took it off.” His hand moved to wrap around her waist. “Can’t teach you self-defense with it on.”

  “Are you suppos
ed to have it off?”

  He steered her toward the gangplank. “Yes, mother. I’ll be fine. It’s been several weeks. The wound is healing nicely, according to Dr. Max, who told me to start using it. The shot was what they call a ‘through and through’. I’ll live.”

  “Won’t you need physical therapy?” Molly glanced up at him, liking the familiar way he kept her close. She’d enjoy Lance while she could. He’d already take a piece of her with him when the cruise ended.

  “What beach would you like to go to?”

  Molly shrugged. “Okay. I can take a hint. Change of subject. According to the guidebook, the main road through town is Ali Drive. It follows the coastline. We’ll stop when the mood strikes.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Within minutes, the salty mist kissed Molly’s face as they drove through Kailua-Kona. A white steeple rose, stark in its simplicity, above the town. Tourists sat on the concrete embankment that held back the ocean. White sand mixed with hardened lava provided a pleasant contrast of color.

  She could live among the islands, snorkeling every day, taking photos of marine life and local plants. Watching the sun set over a majestic volcano. Maybe when ship life grew boring she’d come back. Hopefully, with a loving man by her side whether God chose Lance to be her husband, or someone she hadn’t met yet. Molly didn’t relish settling in a romantic place alone.

  “How about here?” Lance pulled the car to the side of the road.

  A carpet of sand spread before them, sparkling like diamond dust beneath the sun. The azure sea lapped at the beach. “Perfect.” Molly popped the latch on her door, then remembered Lance’s irritation at her not waiting, and sat back.

  He loped to the passenger side, flung the door wide, and swept his arm in a bow. His eyes twinkled from beneath the inky bangs falling in his eyes. “M’lady. Paradise awaits.”

  “Thank you, kind sir.” She slid from the seat, enjoying the warmth of the day on her skin. The only thought marring the beach’s tranquility was their purpose for being there. Instead of playing in the surf like tourists, she’d learn self-defense. Her trip to Hawaii didn’t turn out as planned.