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

by A. R. Winters

  Although Kirk couldn’t see it, I could clearly see Susan rolling her eyes at his pronouncement. She almost looked bored, which was impressive considering her circumstances.

  “What happened?”

  “She betrayed me! She tricked me! She fooled me and everyone else!”

  I hoped Greg would be back with Ethan soon. Real soon.

  “Oh? How did she do that?”

  “In 1984, I wrote to Zoya. A heartfelt letter. It took me weeks to write it.” Kirk wiped a tear from his eye. “And she replied! It was the greatest day of my life. I still remember the words she used to express her love to me, she said, ‘Thank you for your kind letter, please find enclosed an autographed photo. Yours, Zoya Maxwell.’”

  “She wrote you back? That’s great.”

  “It was! I had it framed. But our correspondence did not last! I don’t know what happened, but my letters to her began to be intercepted.”

  “Oh?”

  “Indeed! She never replied again! What other explanation could there be? For years and years, I pined for her. Then, I saw the advertisement for this cruise. I thanked the stars for their blessing. It was destiny that we would be reunited and our love rekindled!”

  “You saw the ad and came on the cruise,” Susan summarized.

  “I told you to be quiet!” He smacked his empty hand down on Susan’s tiara.

  “But Zoya pretended not to know me! She brushed me off! She betrayed our once-in-a-lifetime romance! It was a disaster. And then worse was to come.”

  Kirk glanced down at Susan, who had started to tap her foot on the floor.

  “Stop it!” he said, tapping her on the head again.

  “What happened then, Kirk?” I asked, trying to distract him from Susan. I wished she would stop trying to annoy him. She was going to get herself hurt if she wasn’t careful.

  “Then! Oh, then, the greatest betrayal of all. One that went back more than thirty years!”

  I was pretty sure I could guess what this was, and I knew he would blame Susan.

  “She tricked me! She tricked us all! In the poster for Penultimate Victim, it wasn’t even her! It was this woman instead!”

  “I looked good, didn’t I?” said Susan.

  “You sinned! You deceived! You tricked us all!”

  “So you were mad that it wasn’t her in the poster? And you killed her?” His language was a little too flowery and his story a bit too long-winded.

  “I had to! She stood, underneath the poster, at the drive-in. It was poetic. It was meant to be. Like Romeo and Juliet, our love had to end in tragedy.”

  “If it was Romeo and Juliet, you would have killed yourself,” pointed out Susan. That got her another smack on top of the tiara.

  “I said like Romeo and Juliet. We were similar. But our story is even more tragic, since I have to continue to live, knowing how I was betrayed…”

  “Seems even more tragic for Zoya,” I offered.

  “No! Of course it wasn’t! She found solace in the solitude of death! And then… then… this one.” He glared down at Susan. “She’s just as bad. No, worse. But I hadn’t dedicated so much time to her, thank the stars.”

  “What did I do?”

  “I bought you presents! I bought you perfume! I would have bought you the world if someone would lend me the money! But no. Oh, no. You traitorous harlot, you. I heard you. You and this one—” he pointed his knife back at me “—talking in that café. You were cheating on me with some cad called Judd! You accepted my affections while your heart lay under another man’s pillow!”

  “I didn’t accept your affections. I took the presents you gave me so I didn’t come off as rude. You’re out of your tiny little mind. And you have been since the seventies. Now let me go.”

  Uh-oh. Kirk did not like that. He didn’t like it at all.

  “You’re supposed to be standing, but we’re going to have to do it with you sitting. Now, I need absolute silence! In the film, you could hear the knife slicing through the flesh. I need to hear it!”

  In life’s difficult moments, adrenaline runs through your system and your brain synapses start firing away like there’s no tomorrow. Just then, it made me into a genius.

  At least I felt like one with my brilliant idea.

  If Kirk needed silence for his sick little roleplay, I was going to give him the exact opposite. I ran up to the little DJ booth, still clutching my only weapon.

  “Stop moving! You’re too noisy!”

  “La, la, la!” shouted Susan. “La, la, la!”

  While Susan distracted him, I stared at the DJ’s console. Not knowing what I was doing, I flicked all the biggest switches I could, ones that looked like on-off switches. Lots of little LEDs began to turn on, and screens glowed.

  I didn’t recognize almost any of the equipment. The one thing I did recognize was a CD player. Urgently I stabbed at it, hoping there was a CD inside. There was!

  The speakers crackled and then, joy of joys, the Macarena started playing. That wasn’t something I thought I’d ever feel.

  “No!” shouted Kirk from the stage. “I need silence! Turn it off! Turn it off!”

  I stared over at him, shaking my head. I saw that Susan’s mouth was now stuffed with what looked like a handkerchief. He must have used it to shut her up.

  Looking down at the console again, I saw a big slider dial that went from zero to eleven. It was currently on three. With a shrug, and an apology to my future audiology doctor, I slid it right to the maximum.

  The room filled with a noise so deep and visceral you could taste it. The singers from the awful pop track vibrated the very bones inside me as they urged us to follow their commands.

  Up on stage, Kirk looked absolutely enraged, and he was either shouting something or miming very realistically, but of course it was impossible to hear him over the noise of the Macarena.

  He held a finger in front of Susan’s face, and then began to walk in my direction, hopping off the stage.

  And he still had that huge knife with him.

  But that was okay. I was armed too.

  From my position in the DJ booth, I squeezed my bottle of bubble solution in his direction.

  It didn’t shoot straight into his eyes. It didn’t even hit his chest. It just arced through the air before splattering on the ground between us.

  And that was just fine with me. I squirted the whole bottle, covering the floor. Kirk actually stopped and stared at me like I was crazy. All the while, the bass of the pop song hammered through us, while the chirpy instruments were like daggers in our ears.

  When the bottle was empty, I threw it as hard as I could at Kirk. This time, I got him. The plastic bottle smacked him right on the forehead, splattering him with a few drops of the remaining solution. Even better than I’d hoped for.

  He wiped his head and managed to get some of the solution in his right eye in the process. I saw him furiously rubbing at it, the eye turning red, as did his face in rage. Closing that one eye, he lifted the knife in the air and started to sprint toward me.

  Please work.

  Please work.

  Please work.

  Please don’t stab me to death.

  Kirk’s angry sprint started off well. The first six steps had him barreling toward me like he was going to kill me. Which was presumably his plan.

  But then he hit my soap solution. Like a cartoon character, he started slipping on the floor. The faster he moved his legs to try and regain his balance, the less well it worked. After a short blur of flying feet, he fell onto the floor, his knife skittering away.

  He tried to push himself up, but he slipped and fell again when he was about halfway. Next, he made the mistake of trying to rub his eye again. But now his hands were covered in soap solution and all he succeeded in doing was blinding himself.

  No longer worried about being stabbed to death, I took a moment to lean against the DJ booth and stare at him.

  I had done it.

  I found the murde
rer.

  And stopped him from committing another one. No, two murders.

  To my amazement, a stream of bubbles began to appear across the nightclub floor. I turned to look back at the bubble machine. A fresh bottle of solution had been re-attached. Next to it stood Cece, grinning at me and pointing at the bubbles pouring out of the machine.

  Next to her was Ethan, who was pointing at his ears for some reason.

  Oh, right.

  The music.

  The Macarena was approaching its hundredth rendition of the chorus. At least that’s what it felt like to me.

  I had to cover my mouth to stop my laughter as Cece started dancing her way toward me, Greg Washington just behind her doing the same.

  Ethan kept pointing at his ears, while shaking his head at the two idiots in front of him.

  I went back into the DJ booth and slid the volume back down from eleven to zero and pressed eject on the CD player.

  Cece halted mid-dance move.

  “Hey, I was enjoying that.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Two days later, I was sitting with Ethan on a bench on the constitutional deck.

  We were back in port, and we’d said farewell to all the guests. And most of the staff, too. Usually when we got back, we were ashore as soon we were free to go. That’s exactly what Sam and Cece had done. But Ethan had persuaded me to stick around, claiming he had a surprise for me. The tease was refusing to tell me what it was.

  “I’ll tell you after sunset,” he said, his arm over my shoulder.

  I glared at the sky in front of us, willing the sun to hurry up and go down. It was hovering just near the horizon, filling the sky with a beautiful glow.

  “So what happened to the Princes?” I asked him.

  Dealing with the aftermath of the Kirk Field’s craziness had taken just about every waking moment of time Ethan had since I caught him. I’d been busy with my own job, and of course writing up my account of what had happened for the police reports.

  “They’ve been arrested for theft. Not just here, but they were wanted by Amtrak as well for a series of thefts on the Chicago to New Orleans train they took before they boarded. There’s probably more too. I don’t think we’ll be seeing them again any time soon.”

  Finally, the sun started to sink down. The sky turned to a deep, deep red. For a moment, my mind turned toward Penultimate Victim and Prom Queen Killers, but then I tried to think of roses instead. Ones without blood dripping from them.

  “What about the woman who faked the contract?” asked Ethan.

  “Polly Stratton? Oh, I saw her just before she left. Susan refused to sign with her after she had faked Zoya’s signature. She said she’s rethinking her whole business. She said she never liked old movies anyway. She wants to do something with some famous online video stars instead. Says the marketing will be so much easier.”

  “Huh. I can’t say I know much about that. What about the movie people?”

  The sky darkened further, the reds and oranges turning to magentas and purples.

  “Susan and I had a long chat just before she left. She told me Judd isn’t interested in the Nebraskan-girl-kidnapping movie anymore. Since they don’t know where the script came from, it’s too risky to try and produce it. Susan got an interesting phone call just before she disembarked. She was offered a spot on cable television. It’s a show about aging gracefully, and she’d be the hostess.”

  “And she wants to do that?”

  “She actually did sound pretty interested. I think she’s finally accepted she’ll never be a big Hollywood star. And that she’s getting older. She was bouncing ideas off me. I think she might do it.”

  “Sounds too sensible for her,” said Ethan with a chuckle. “How are your friends?”

  “Oh, they’re good. Cece and Doctor Ryan are going on some swamp tour together. And that pool boy, Shaun Anderson, has finally persuaded Sam to have a drink with him.”

  “Is he old enough?”

  I laughed. “Yeah. He’s not as young as he looks! He was blessed with good genes.”

  “So were you,” said Ethan, squeezing my knee.

  “Thanks. Okay! Look, that’s it. The sun’s gone. Come on. Where’s my surprise?”

  Ethan took my hand as he stood, pulling me up after him.

  “Okay, okay, Miss Impatience. Come on.”

  “Miss Impatience? Is that your little nickname for me? Because I don’t think it’s very cute.”

  “Nah. I’m just teasing. Come on, hot stuff.”

  “Hey! That name’s already taken. You’re going to have to think of something better.”

  “Umm, warm thing?”

  I rolled my eyes at him.

  “I think I need a few minutes. But I’ve got something I think might distract you in the meantime.”

  We walked around the deck until we arrived at our destination. I should have guessed what it was going to be. But maybe I didn’t want to. Maybe I wanted to be surprised.

  I gasped when we got there.

  “Ethan! That. Is. Awesome!”

  Ahead of us was the pool deck. The big movie screen was still set up, but on the other side of the pool, instead of rows of seating was a single sofa, were a folded-up blanket and a pile of cushions.

  On the screen, it read: Hot Stuff and Miss Sunshine’s Classic Movie Marathon.

  “Miss Sunshine?” I asked him.

  “Do you remember the last cruise, when we had those breakfast dates? You were always so with it in the morning. I had to start getting up earlier just so I wouldn’t look bad in comparison. So that’s why I thought of you as Miss Sunshine, since you’re always so bright in the morning.”

  Uh-oh. What had I gotten myself into? That cruise, I’d been dragging myself up ages before I normally woke up and forcing myself not to act like my usual grumpy pre-caffeinated self. I was definitely not a Morning Sunshine person.

  “Well, it’s an improvement on warm thing.” We ambled over toward the sofa, arms interlocked. “So what’s our first movie?”

  “How would you feel about Cannibal Bloodbath?”

  I knew he was joking. At least I thought I did.

  “Like I’d turn you into a bloodbath.”

  “Phew. Because that isn’t what I picked.” He led me over to the sofa. “I still can’t believe you haven’t seen it, but I think you’re going to like it. Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”

  He was right; I was going to like it.

  Because I was watching it with him.

  When we sat down, like magic, he produced popcorn and cans of beer, and he laid the blanket across us.

  He put his arm around me and I snuggled up against him.

  For once, I was glad my cruise wasn’t over yet.

  Underneath a canopy of stars, the movie began. With silence all around us on the near-empty ship, it was like we had the whole world to ourselves.

  Miss Sunshine and Hot Stuff.

  That was world enough for me.

  Want More?

  Grab your copies of two FREE A.R. Winters cozy mysteries:

  CLICK HERE

  You can also follow AR Winters on Facebook

  Note from the author: THANK YOU!

  And Please, Please Leave A Review

  Thank you so much for reading my books!

  I know my books aren't for everyone - but if you enjoy reading them, thank you so much!

  If you liked the book, please, please take a few minutes and leave a review.

  An independent author does it all on their own, and reviews are very helpful. I appreciate each and every review, no matter how long or short.

  Reviews help new readers find out about my books, which is crucial for the continued success of this series, and my ability to keep publishing work for you.

  Every single review really does make a difference. Thank you again for being a reader, and I hope to see you again soon!

  Sneak Peak: A Berry Deadly Welcome

  Chapter One

  "Come on, c
ome on." I gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. My car was out of gas. Rather, my ex-husband's car was out of gas. I had "borrowed" it to make the trip from Chicago, Illinois down to Camden Falls, Kentucky. I'd had to make the trip somehow, and I'd been too broke to buy a bus ticket.

  I rocked back and forth in my seat a couple of times, trying to will my momentum into the car. I knew that wouldn't help it inch forward off the road and into the curbside parking spot, but I did it all the same. I couldn't stop myself.

  "Just a little more!" The engine gagged, coughed, spluttered and then bucked before rattling and dying. That was okay, though. When it bucked, the car lurched forward that little bit more that I'd needed to get it off the road. I wasn't going to have to abandon it with its butt end sticking halfway out into the road.

  I eyed the road around me. It was huge. It wasn't eight lanes huge or anything like that. There were only two lanes, one coming and one going, but the main street of little Camden Falls could have accommodated four tractor trailers driving side by side. Even with so much room, the traffic was slow and lazy, cars meandering instead of rushing. There were two and three car-lengths between each car that passed. I was used to seeing cars in Chicago drive headlight to bumper, but that wasn't happening here.

  On top of that, there were almost no people. I eyeballed around thirty or forty people walking around. They walked in small groups or alone, but always spread out with plenty of distance in-between.

  I turned my attention toward a pickup truck that was driving past. The truck's driver nodded his head at me and then lifted his palm in a small side-to-side wave. Panic flooded me, and my heart skittered and jumped as badly as the engine had a moment earlier. My ex probably already had a warrant out for my arrest, and it would be just like him to hire someone to keep an eye out for me.

  I twisted to see if anything was coming from behind and then jumped out of the car. It was a pearl white Mercedes S-Class, and I'd probably never get the chance to drive anything like it again—especially if my ex had me put in jail. If that happened, I wouldn't even need to worry about how I'd look when I renewed my driver's license. I wouldn't need to worry about where my next meal was coming from or where I was going to sleep tonight.