Deadly Cruise: A Humorous Cruise Ship Cozy Mystery (Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries Book 7)

by A. R. Winters

  “At least we dressed the part. Nice hat.”

  He reached up and tapped my fedora on its brim. “You too. We’re a matching couple.”

  I grinned at him. We were a matching couple. But our mutual adoration didn’t have time to flourish for long.

  “Ah, Adrienne, there you are!” said Kelly, approaching me at a rapid clip. Today, she was dressed in all plum-purple, right down to her freshly manicured fingernails.

  “What’s up?” I asked with just a touch of nervousness. Kelly had a habit of dropping things in my lap without warning.

  “Good news!”

  “Uh-huh…” I didn’t know who it was ‘good’ for yet.

  “Zoya has agreed to do the photographs with the movie poster. I wanted to let you know so you could be there too.”

  “Great,” I said with some relief. “At the pool deck?”

  “Nope,” said Kelly with a shake of her head. “It’s going to be in the Grand Ballroom before dinner tomorrow night.”

  “The Grand Ballroom?” I raised one eyebrow. It seemed a little, well, grand for a photo op with an old movie poster.

  “Yes, just before dinner. Zoya insisted on the venue.”

  “Huh. Well, okay, the Grand Ballroom it is.”

  During this cruise, the ballroom was acting as another dinner venue. Customers would be served a multi-course dinner at tables, while up on the stage a swing band from the Big Band era would play. It all came at an additional price though, of course.

  “I’ll be there. Anything else?”

  My question seemed to spark a memory somewhere in Kelly’s brain.

  “Shoot! Gotta go!” Kelly rushed away at double speed to attend to whatever it was that she had nearly forgotten.

  Someone else approached just as Kelly made her hasty exit. It was the entrepreneur, Polly Stratton, and she was carrying a bag with various horror film monsters printed on it.

  It was too good an opportunity to miss. I hopped to my feet, raising a finger to Ethan to let him know that I’d be just a moment, and grabbed Polly before I missed her.

  “Hi again. I see you’ve got another fantastic bag.”

  Polly smiled at me, delighted that I’d noticed.

  “Why, thank you! I don’t suppose you want to…” She nodded down at the antique camera still hanging from my neck.

  “Yep, but not with this.” I dug into my pocket and pulled out my Swan-issued smartphone. “The old one’s just a prop.”

  Polly held her bag up in front of her and put a cute fake-scream on her face. It was a lot more enjoyable than the blood-curdling shriek Susan had treated us to.

  “By the way,” I said when we were done, “Zoya is going to be posing with the movie poster like the one on the bag you had yesterday. It’ll be in the Grand Ballroom tomorrow night, if you’re interested.” I knew she would be.

  “Fantastic. Will you be there to document it?”

  “Of course!”

  “Awesome. I got a few more followers and fans thanks to the pictures you took yesterday.”

  “Excellent. That’s what I’m here for!” Technically, it wasn’t—I was there for Swan to get more fans and followers—but if it helped Polly too, then I was more than pleased with that.

  “I’ve got a really good feeling about this.” Polly stroked an image of a vampire on her bag as she spoke. “I think the world is due for a classic horror revival, don’t you?”

  “Sure, why not? Everything else seems to have come back—even nineties fashion!”

  “I might even try and get Zoya to endorse my brand. That would be something, huh?”

  “It would. And she should do it—you’d basically be promoting her too, wouldn’t you? It’s not exactly like she’s famous anymore.” I pretended to look around nervously. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

  “Ha!” came the incredulous voice of Tom Devlin nearby.

  He was standing next to a red-faced Kirk Field. Curious, I began to walk over to the two men. Polly waved a farewell at me and headed over toward Susan Shelly, who was standing off to the side, watching the room.

  “If you don’t write an apology for that review, I’ll sue you!” shouted Kirk, waving a finger in the air.

  “Ha!” said Tom again. “Sue me? For an article I published in 1979? That isn’t even about you?”

  “It’s not about me—it’s about the world! And how you stole her from us by ruining Zoya’s reputation!”

  “I didn’t ruin her reputation.”

  “Did too!”

  “Her acting did.”

  Kirk grabbed a glass of water and threw it at Tom. For a second, I thought he might throw the actual container too, but thankfully he just gave Tom a shower instead of a bruising.

  “How dare you!”

  “Guys, guys,” I said, stepping between the wet critic and the enraged fanboy. “Let’s cool it, okay?”

  “I did cool it. Well, him, anyway,” said Kirk, giggling. Throwing the water seemed to have assuaged his anger somewhat, and he now had a smug look of satisfaction on his face.

  “I should sue you!” shouted Tom.

  Suddenly, like the world’s most handsome human shield, Ethan was there between them, his trench-coated form blocking them from even seeing each other.

  “Ethan Lee, head of security. This ends now.”

  A shiver ran down my spine. There was something about the way his powerful voice cut through the two men that made me go weak at the knees. They both immediately looked humbled.

  “I’m going back to my cabin if you need me,” said Kirk.

  I couldn’t possibly imagine why anyone within the vicinity would need him, but no one mentioned it as he shuffled away out of the room.

  “I never should have come on this cruise. I should have known it would be full of crazy people,” said Tom.

  “Sir?” Sam stood beside Ethan, giving Tom a winning smile. As a customer service liaison, she had to pay particular attention to our VIP guests. “I think you’re due for a complimentary cocktail. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you to our stunning tropical bar, Hemingway’s.”

  After he harrumphed in agreement, Sam led the angry critic away.

  “Shame. His talk was actually pretty good,” I said to Ethan when they’d left.

  “Really? Sorry I missed it. You know I love classic movies. Maybe I’ll catch another talk later on.” He paused, watching as Tom disappeared. “Keep an eye on those two though. I’d hate for one of them to end up in the brig for fighting.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I said with a weary shake of my head. There always seemed to be arguments on these cruises.

  “Now, this detective has got to get back to his office.”

  “And this journalist has to go and upload a bunch of pictures. See you later?”

  He nodded and we exchanged a brief hug. With so many people around, a kiss was out of the question.

  With the trench coat flapping around him, Ethan walked out of the International Buffet like a force of nature, my eyes on him the whole time.

  Playing dress-up is kind of fun, I mused.

  But little did I know, the fun had barely just begun.

  Chapter Four

  When I entered the Grand Ballroom the following evening, I felt like I’d stepped back in time.

  The band was already set up at the front of the room, warming up with some jazz standards from the 1930s. The staff wore period costumes, and all the guests who had arrived early had put on their finest clothing for the event.

  At the front of the room, right in the middle, was a large object covered with a white sheet.

  Of course this could only be Zoya’s framed movie poster. It looked almost ridiculous—a poster for an old ‘70s slasher flick being in pride of place, front and center of the grandest room on the ship. But it was what Zoya had requested.

  There was a table near the front for some of the VIP guests who were involved in the cruise. The producer Judd Cohn, Tom Devlin the critic, and Susan
Shelly the actress were sitting together, deep in conversation. The fact that there were already two empty bottles of wine on the table perhaps indicated why their conversation seemed to be so animated.

  I was wearing a black ballgown, which I had previously used when pretending to be an aristocratic lady for a murder mystery cruise we had run a few months earlier.

  I didn’t go and talk to the VIPs as they seemed fully engrossed without me, and instead decided to inspect the center of attention: the movie poster.

  It stood about six feet high in its frame, completely obscured by the massive sheet which covered it. A gold-tasseled rope had been attached to it, ready to be yanked on to reveal the poster underneath.

  “Excited?” said a deep voice in my ear.

  I greeted Ethan with a playful punch to his arm. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. And… kinda. It’s only a poster, but all the pomp around it is pretty entertaining.”

  Ethan was no longer in his detective outfit. He was once again dressed in his standard white-and-gold first officer’s uniform. It always made him look handsome.

  “And there’s the star of the show herself,” said Ethan, nudging me in the direction of the VIP table.

  Zoya was approaching the table in a glamorous black sequined dress. She clutched a black handbag in one hand and in the other a noticeably less glamorous manila envelope.

  “Looks like she’s brought her taxes along to entertain herself.”

  I was pleased when Ethan laughed at my little joke. But really, what was she carrying in that thing?

  With Ethan beside me, we ambled over to the table, reaching it at about the same time as Zoya.

  Ethan pulled out a chair for me.

  “I’m the first officer, so I’m sitting with the VIPs. And you’re my guest.”

  I beamed up at him. I hadn’t realized we were on a date. Or maybe we weren’t. Maybe I was just part of his work—dining with guests was one of the duties of the ship’s officers. I would still need to do my job of taking pictures, but at least I’d have some pleasant company for the evening.

  “Judd, here it is,” said Zoya, sliding the manila envelope across the table to him.

  The producer picked it up, pulled out a stack of papers, and examined the front sheet. He then flicked through the other pages, nodding to himself as he did so.

  “Thank you. I’ll let you know.” He placed the envelope back down in front of him. “Should we mingle?”

  The other VIPs reluctantly nodded and got to their feet.

  “I’m staying here,” said Ethan, settling into his chair. “I’ll mingle after dinner.”

  I pulled my phone out of my bag and left it on the table.

  “Watch my bag?” I said to Ethan.

  He placed two hands on top of it and slid it so it was right in front of him. He then proceeded to stare down at it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Watching it,” he said, then looked back up at me with an innocent smile.

  Walking around the room, I got pictures of guests arriving, as well as several of the staff. Some of the female staff members were dressed as cigarette girls, but instead of tobacco they were offering packets of gum. Swan definitely did not allow smoking in its Grand Ballroom.

  I saw Susan and Zoya heading in the same direction and decided to see if I could get a picture of them together. They didn’t seem to be too friendly with each other, so I wasn’t sure how many such opportunities I would get.

  While Zoya had on a classic black sequined dress, Susan had gone for a midnight-blue number with a neckline that plunged lower than any I’d seen outside of celebrity magazines.

  Around Susan’s neck was a glittering necklace, and as I got closer I realized it was an actual diamond necklace—dozens of the jewels strung together into a gleaming string. Her ears were similarly adorned, with two diamond earrings that must have cost more than I earned in a month.

  As the two met, I saw Susan look at Zoya with something akin to disdain. I casually walked closer, phone held in front of me and an innocent smile on my face.

  “Just leave it,” said Susan, shaking her head.

  “Me? Leave it? Coming from you, that’s rich—excuse me.” Zoya made a point of covering her mouth and coughing politely.

  I realized why she’d suddenly stopped speaking: a middle-aged woman in a lemon-yellow ballgown appeared on the other side of them.

  “Zoya, Susan, I’m a massive fan. Massive! Could I get a picture?”

  The two actresses both turned on their smiles and gave the impression that they couldn’t be more delighted to be there together, in each other’s company.

  I volunteered to take the picture for the woman and snapped one of my own with my phone immediately after.

  “Me too!” said someone else.

  “And me!” said another.

  Even though taking pictures is a big part of my job, taking pictures for other people isn’t. I managed to pass the job off to the second fan, the one after the woman in the yellow ballgown, hopefully setting off a chain of photographers, one after the other.

  It didn’t look like the two actresses would be continuing their intriguing conversation anytime soon, so I used the opportunity to slip away and see what else I could find that would be of interest.

  Back toward the front of the room, I saw that Tom Devlin and Judd Cohn were chatting and laughing about something. Both of them now seemed to be holding glasses with what looked like whiskey on the rocks in them, swishing the amber liquid around idly as they chatted.

  “…it’s idiotic, isn’t it? I mean, look!” Tom flung out his arm to indicate the whole front of the room, the liquid in his glass almost, but not quite, sloshing out as he did so.

  “I know! All this—for a movie poster! It’s more of a spectacle than the premiere for that movie! What was it called again? Ultimate Victim?”

  “Penultimate victim.” Tom chuckled as he said it, as if the name was ridiculous. I didn’t think it was that bad.

  “Did that film even have a premiere?” asked Judd.

  Tom shrugged and held up his arms, almost losing his drink again as he did so. “It was probably in the director’s mom’s basement!”

  The two men laughed uproariously and downed the rest of their drinks.

  “What’s… what’s that?” said Tom, jabbing a finger at the envelope Judd was holding. He must have picked it up after his brief attempt at mingling with the guests.

  “This little thing? Well, actually it’s a script. It sounds kind of interesting.”

  “Zoya wrote a script?”

  “Goodness no!” Both men paused to laugh again at the preposterousness of the idea of Zoya writing a script. “Of course not. But she got her talons on it somehow. It sounds interesting, but, of course, she wants a role in it.”

  Tom did a good impression of shuddering, shaking his shoulders so hard that this time he did spill some of his drink.

  “Right. Let’s sit down again. It’s supposed to start soon, isn’t it? Time to get this over with.”

  The band began playing a new tune, one which sounded like a lead-up to something.

  “Hi!” The loud, high-pitched voice of Kelly Cline echoed around the room, and the Big Band immediately stopped playing.

  I looked around the room, finally spotting her as she emerged from behind the sheet-draped movie poster. She was wearing a fancy black dress and outfitted herself with matching jet jewelry, and her naturally black hair was for once left unadorned by ribbons, bows, or bands.

  “If you’d like to make your way to your seats, we will shortly hold our grand unveiling of Zoya Maxwell’s iconic movie poster. Following the unveiling, a five-course dinner will be served, after which there will be dancing and you’ll have the opportunity to line up and have your picture taken not just with this iconic piece of movie history, but with the star of the movie herself—Zoya Maxwell.”

  Along with everyone else, I returned to my seat. Sliding down next to Ethan, I gave him
a smile. Across the table I scrutinized the two male guests I’d heard talking. They were all innocence now, their contempt for Zoya no longer apparent. I felt sorry for the actress, having heard how the men had talked about her behind her back with what seemed to me to be unnecessary nastiness. Even if they weren’t fans of her work—like me—they could at least be polite.

  But maybe Hollywood values were different than Nebraska values.

  When everyone was seated, Kelly held up her mic again.

  “I would like to ask tonight’s guest of honor, Zoya Maxwell, to come up and join me!”

  There was a round of applause from most of the ballroom, which had filled up considerably over the last half an hour or so. The applause from our own table was muted though, more ‘polite’ than enthusiastic.

  Zoya was smiling as she stood up, oblivious to the fact that half of our table didn’t have much of an opinion of her. She waltzed up to the front of the room and turned to face everyone. From the way her face lit up, I knew she was loving it. I wondered how long it had been since Zoya had an adoring crowd to perform in front of. She certainly hadn’t been in any films of note for years.

  “I think she’s missed the limelight,” I whispered to Ethan. “I bet that’s why she wanted this unveiling.”

  “You’re probably right,” he said with a nod.

  “Everybody, may I proudly present, the scream queen herself—Zoya Maxwell!”

  The actress waved at everyone, her face alight with pleasure.

  “Thank you, thank you everyone. I must say: what an honor. What. An. Honor. I can hardly believe it.”

  Zoya stopped and slowly turned her head, as if to look at each and every person in the room. “I told them so many times I didn’t want them to make a fuss about this old poster. I didn’t imagine we’d end up like this!”

  Kelly’s brow furrowed in consternation. According to her, it had been Zoya who insisted on the grand unveiling. But now she was trying to act all modest.

  “I heard she outright demanded a grand unveiling,” said Susan across the table in a voice loud enough to be heard by everyone nearby.

  There were murmurs of agreement, particularly from Judd Cohn and Tom Devlin.