Murder on the Orient (SS): The Agatha Christie Book Club 2

by C. A. Larmer

  “Hey there, you’re going the wrong way!”

  Alicia swept around to find a tall man with a mop of brown hair standing in the claustrophobically thin passageway, one hand pointing in the other direction. He was fully decked out in a white officer’s uniform and looked dashingly handsome.

  For a moment she didn’t recognise him.

  “Anders?” she cried, then rushed back to throw herself in his arms. “I was wondering when I’d see you.”

  He stiffened considerably and gently pushed her back, a blush spreading across his cheeks as an older couple squeezed past them, both so bronzed they looked like bruised oranges.

  “Sorry,” Alicia said, glancing at the couple, but they didn’t appear to notice.

  The woman was muttering something angrily in a foreign language while the man hung his head low and kept walking. Whatever his past sins, he was hearing about it now.

  Glancing back at the doctor, Alicia said, “I gather from the fancy threads that you’re on duty?”

  He nodded. “It’s a full-time gig I’m afraid. Have to be on my best behaviour. No visible displays of affection, that kind of thing. You understand, right?”

  She felt a stab of disappointment. “Of course.”

  “I had hoped to meet you on the dock, but well, I had a few… er, sick passengers I had to tend to.”

  “Don’t worry, we were in good hands.”

  “Excellent.” He tipped his head towards the cabin. “Everything in order?”

  “Yes, it’s stunning.”

  “Good, then follow me, the muster station’s this way.”

  Alicia hesitated. “I just need to fetch Lynette; she’s still at the pool bar. If my memory serves me correctly, this back stairway is the shortcut.”

  “She’s a big girl, Alicia. I’m sure she can find her own way.”

  “Have you met my sister Lynette? She’ll be studying the bar menu and wondering how they bake the crab quiche and miss the whole thing. I won’t be long.” She went to give him a good-bye kiss then thought better of it, simply smiled and continued down the passage while he stared, frowning behind her.

  Having booked on the cruise so late, the club members were not expecting to get cabins close together, so Alicia was pleasantly surprised to find Perry’s cabin was just two doors down from hers, and Claire and Missy next door to that. She didn’t know where Anders was located, though, and wondered why she hadn’t thought to ask. Lynette was more curious about why Anders hadn’t asked Alicia to bunk in with him, and Alicia had scoffed at this.

  “He’s probably in a hammock with three other crew members in the bowels of the ship. Remember, he’s working, Lynette.”

  Now seeing him in his suit brought home just how busy he would be, and Alicia realised with a jolt that this might be a replica cruise ship, but the Love Boat it was not.

  Still, she couldn’t help humming the tune to the popular ’80s TV show as she put her head down and began racing up the companionway. She was onto the chorus when she slammed into a man racing down the other way.

  “Oh damn, sorry,” he said, grabbing Alicia’s hand as they both almost toppled down the stairs.

  As he did so, a tiny vial of orange liquid fell from his pocket, and he leapt upon it like it was liquid gold, then thrust it back into his leather jacket before helping Alicia steady herself against the balustrade.

  “You okay?” he asked, and she nodded.

  “Sorry, it was my fault. I was miles away.”

  “Well, we will be soon. Got to get through another bloody awful drill first. Aren’t they a total torture?”

  Alicia laughed, and he smiled back. He was wearing blue jeans and a Neil Young T-shirt beneath his jacket, and his sandy-coloured hair was tussled and overgrown. That getup coupled with the very fine laughter lines around his eyes suggested he was neither spring chicken nor old goat. Lynette would be thrilled, she thought.

  No pacemaker on this one.

  He’d been studying her too, and his widening smile creased those lines further. “Guess I’ll see you in the torture chamber,” he joked then continued down the steps, taking them two at a time.

  She noticed that he didn’t stop at her floor but continued on, down towards a lower deck, and she wondered where he was headed. As far as she knew there were no cabins that far down.

  Not giving it any more thought, Alicia continued upwards to the main deck but soon discovered that the place was deserted. She began cursing Lynette aloud. Perhaps they’d all been shepherded to the muster station already. She looked around. How on earth was she going to find her way from here?

  As if by magic a white uniform appeared with a lovely big hand that was waving her towards a slim stairway at the other end of the deck. “This way please, ma’am,” came the voice attached, and Alicia gave the crew member a grateful smile as she followed his directions and made her way to the Grand Salon, the main entertainment hub which featured a music bar and lounge on the upper deck, imaginatively titled The Upper Deck.

  There she found the rest of the book club gathered, Lynette now clutching a fresh glass of champagne. Anders was also there and gave her a knowing smile as she walked up.

  “I was looking for you,” Alicia told her sister.

  “Well I’m where I need to be, where were you?”

  She ignored this as a large, grey-bearded man in a decorative white uniform with four-striped epaulettes entered the room, a shorter, similarly dressed man beside him.

  “That’s Captain Antonio Van Tussi with the beard, and his right-hand man, Chief Officer Pane,” Anders told them just as a hush swept over the crowd. Alicia glanced about. There were about 280 passengers gathered and almost as many crewmembers by the look of it, and that was assuming the crew were all in uniform.

  “Welcome aboard to our new passengers, and thanks everyone for gathering so swiftly so that we can reacquaint ourselves with the safety procedures,” Chief Officer Pane was calling out over a few stragglers who were settling in to seats at the back. “The crossing to New Zealand can be pretty variable, so it’s timely that we do another drill.”

  All was quiet except for a small pocket in one corner by the bar. A group of passengers was laughing loudly, completely ignoring the officers’ presence, and Pane was looking both uncomfortable and annoyed. Alicia recognised the angry bronzed couple she’d spotted in the passageway earlier, their spat now forgotten as they laughed along, as well as several short, plump women who looked like identikits of each other. They had to be related, she decided.

  “Please, people!” the chief officer was calling out. “Silence! Pleeeease!”

  Their laughter continued unabated, and several onlookers frowned, including Claire, yet the captain just looked amused as he stepped forward and retrieved the microphone from Pane.

  Shaking his head with a patient smile, he said, “My, my, Millicent Solarno. What a surprise to find you playing up again.”

  His voice was Darth Vader-deep, strong and commanding, and it did the trick. The largest, loudest of the women turned around, her lips caught mid-sentence, staring up to the captain who had tipped his head to one side as if chastising a child. “We haven’t all been on 120 cruises,” he continued. “Mind if we teach the newcomers a thing or two?”

  The woman’s lips morphed into a smile, and she placed a hand to her brow to perform a mock salute. “Aye, aye, Cap’n!” she called back.

  He nodded appreciatively, and so the lecture began.

  Chapter 3

  By the time the drill was over, the corner group had settled back into raucous laughter, and Anders cocked an eyebrow towards them.

  “They’ve been a handful since I got aboard eight days ago. Rowdy mob.”

  “Rude too,” snipped Claire. “Who do they think they are?”

  “Veteran cruisers, of course!” came an unfamiliar voice behind them. “They think they own the ship.”

  The friends turned to find a man in his late fifties standing there, already dressed for dinner
in a shiny dark-blue tuxedo, his dyed black hair combed back, his heavy jowls clean-shaven. In fact, he smelt like he’d bathed in his aftershave, the spicy scent almost overwhelming.

  “The captain wasn’t exaggerating,” he added. “Between them the Solarno sisters must have notched up over a hundred cruises.”

  Perry gasped, a hand flying to his heart. “Good lord! All on the SS Orient?”

  “Not possible unless they’re 137 years old, and I’ll keep mum on that one. Oh no, the ship might look ancient, but this is actually only its fourth voyage.”

  “So how do you know they’re veterans?” asked Alicia.

  He smiled and held out a hand. “Apologies, I’m Dermott Killarney, also a veteran cruiser although they give me a run for my money, those ladies. This is my tenth cruise, third ship. I’ve met them on several other trips. The Groots over there—”

  He indicated the bronzed couple.

  “—they’ve been on a few cruises too, although how they manage it on a Dutch pension I do not know. Still, none of us come close to the Salami Sisters.”

  “Salami Sisters?” echoed Lynette.

  He held a hand to his lips. “Apologies, it’s my pet name for them. I don’t think they’d mind. They have a wicked sense of humour. You’ll meet them soon enough, everybody does. They’re Millie, Tillie, and Billie Solarno, made their fortune in fine meats would you believe? Daddy dearest had the biggest deli in Britain. Hence the regular cruises.” His eyes danced across the group. “Now you lot, you’re all virgins, I can see that.”

  Claire bristled, but Missy squealed with laughter. “Is it that obvious? We’re soooo excited; we’ve never been on a ship before.”

  “Oh I have,” said Perry, and Lynette snorted.

  “Booze cruises around Sydney harbour don’t count, Perry.”

  After introductions were made, Dermott stood back, his eyes squinting shrewdly. “You seem an unlikely lot. I wonder how you all got together.” He waggled a finger in the air. “No, no, don’t tell me! I want to guess—much more fun that way. You’re clearly not related.” His eyes darted to Claire, who was part Chinese and had a dark, feline look about her, to beach-blond Lynette, rubbing his jaw as he did so. “Work? You all work together! No? Hmmm. Neighbours, perhaps?”

  “Book club!” Missy spat out, unable to help herself, and he looked delighted.

  “Of course you are! Oh you’re going to love—”

  “Dermott Killarney, monopolising the young ones again I see!”

  This time they swept around to find a tall blonde descending upon them. If Claire was part Chinese, this woman was part Amazonian, her legs astonishingly long in tight white pants with gold stitching, her tanned shoulders as broad as a rugby union player, peeking out between slits in the flowing tiger-print kaftan top she had on. She was beautiful, though, breathtakingly so, her long hair streaked with golden highlights, her cheeks chiselled and sun-kissed like Aussie supermodel Elle Macpherson. And she had the spongy, thick lips, sparkling blue eyes, and broad ocker accent to match.

  No sooner had she landed a smacker on Dermott’s blushing face, she exclaimed, “G’day guys, welcome to the Orient!”

  Pushing forty, the woman was as unblemished as a twenty-year-old, with the smug smile of someone who not only knows she’s beautiful she expects you’ll think so too. Alicia couldn’t help glancing at Anders, but he was already reaching across to steal a kiss of his own.

  “Evening, Corrie, you look lovely tonight,” he said, and her smile flashed wider.

  “Thanks, mate.” She didn’t settle for a kiss, quickly sweeping him into a hug, and Alicia wasn’t sure whether to be more put out by Corrie’s familiarity with Anders or the fact that he was now happily hugging her back. In public. In his uniform.

  So much for no visible displays of affection.

  Just then another woman appeared behind her. She was almost as tall as Corrie, but skeleton thin with mousey brown hair that had been stretched so straight it looked ready to snap. She had a long black dress on, a glass of champagne in one hand, and a bored look on her face.

  Corrie promptly snatched the glass from her and said, “You don’t mind, do you, darl?”

  “Well…”

  “Just zip back and grab another. You’ve got all the time in the world. Tell Ramond to put it on the entertainment tab.”

  Corrie then dismissed the woman with a flick of her luscious locks. “That’s my ‘bestie’ Anita,” she told the group as her friend turned away. “She’s just joined our little dinghy, as I believe you guys have! So, who have we got here then?”

  Her eyes bore into them, and for a moment Alicia knew what it must feel like to be a gazelle under the hungry gaze of a lion. There was something wild and unguarded about this woman, something almost dangerous. Of course the animal-print top and fullback’s physique didn’t help.

  “This is the book club I was telling you about,” Anders said.

  Something flickered in those eyes, and her gaze intensified. “Oh yes, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you guys!”

  “Oh?” said Claire. “You’re a book lover then?”

  “What? God no! Who’s got time for reading? No, no, but I am into mysteries—in fact I have one that’d be right up your alley.”

  “Oh?” said Alicia this time.

  Corrie smiled wickedly. “Oh yeah, baby, The Case of the Kaftan Kleptomaniac.” She had put on a theatrical accent and, reading disinterest in Alicia’s expression, added, “It might seem trivial to you, but they’re designer label—Camilla, darlink—and they cost a small ransom! Can’t imagine how anyone managed to pinch the bloody things. Still, it might be just your thing. Doc here tells me you’ve been busy solving a few mysteries.”

  “Well, just one, really,” said Alicia, thinking back to the previous year when a book club member had vanished into thin air, leaving a few too many people looking far too relieved.

  “More than one!” interjected Missy. “Alicia’s just being modest. We didn’t just have a missing club member, we had a dead husband, we had a wayward daughter who was definitely hiding something, we had a sleazebag of a tennis coach and, oh, don’t forget that loony housekeeper! You see, it all began soon after Alicia started the book club, which was when? I’m trying to remember…”

  Corrie’s gaze turned gauzy as Missy rattled away, and she soon began looking over her shoulder as though searching for an escape.

  Missy carried on regardless. “We’d only had a few meetings, hadn’t we possums, when one of our members just vanished! Poof! Gone. So we all decided we just had to channel our inner Miss Marple and find out where the poor woman had gotten to! I say poor because—”

  “Mmm sounds like a laugh,” Corrie interrupted, “and I’d love to hear all about it, but I’ve really gotta circulate. The captain will have a fit if I don’t spread myself wide.”

  “So you work on the ship as well?” asked Alicia. “Are you the Entertainment Director?”

  Corrie barked with laughter. “Well, that’s one way of putting it!”

  Anders shot Alicia a patient smile. “This is Corrie Van Tussi, Alicia.” When she stared at him blankly, his smile stiffened and he added, “Captain Van Tussi’s wife.”

  “Oh, right, sorry!” She blushed, and Lynette frowned.

  “How was Alicia supposed to know that, Anders?”

  But Corrie was waving them off. “Jeez don’t worry about it! Most captain’s wives don’t tag along on every cruise, but I can’t help myself, this ship is so luxurious and the company so scrumptious!”

  She gave Anders another look that suggested he was next on the menu, and Alicia’s blush quickly paled.

  “But enough of all that! Must keep schmoozing.” Corrie placed her thumb and pinkie to the side of her head, as if imitating a telephone and told the group, “I’ll get my people to call your people. Bon voyage!”

  She fluttered off in a plume of Chanel perfume, leaving at least one woman feeling frumpy in her wake.

 
“Don’t worry,” said Dermott, sensing Alicia’s discomfort. “She has that effect on all of us.”

  “She must be, like, totally devoted to the captain,” Missy said, “coming on every cruise.”

  “I’m not sure it’s the captain she’s devoted to,” he said. When they all turned back to him, he smacked his lips tightly together as though trying to restrain himself. Then he chuckled and said, “Oops, did I just say that aloud?”

  Claire ignored this and asked, “What did she mean by Kaftan Kleptomaniac?”

  “Oh I wouldn’t get too excited by that. She can be quite melodramatic that First Lady of ours, and why anyone would want to nick her ghastly gear I cannot say. The way she dresses you’d think it was a tacky budget cruise!” A wave of laughter rippled from the corner again, and he glanced across. “I’d best pay my respects to the Salami Sisters before they start accusing me of allegiances. I’ll see you back here after dinner for cocktails and dancing, yes?”

  “There’s dancing?” Lynette said.

  “Of course there’s dancing, my dear! It’s my raison d’être!”

  Then he did a little bow and waltzed his way towards the so-called Salami Sisters, who were still laughing up a storm on one side.

  Chapter 4

  Dermott Killarney was not overstating it. No sooner had they finished the delicious four-course meal in the Grand Dining Room—an elegant restaurant boasting a hand-painted ceiling and high-backed parlour chairs—they ascended the majestic staircase and settled back into the Grand Salon. There the chairs and tables had been moved away to reveal a shiny oak parquet dance floor in the middle of the room, and in the middle of that, Dermott, shiny with sweat. He was adeptly whisking one woman after another around and around in a variety of waltzes and foxtrots. Two dances seemed to be his limit, however, before he escorted his panting partner back to her seat, held his hand out to another and returned to the floor.

  “He’s in hot demand,” said Lynette.

  “On the job, actually,” said one of the Solarno sisters who was just wedging herself into the velvet booth beside them. She had a clipped, upper-crust British accent and a jolly smile on her face. “Don’t worry, dear. He’ll get to you eventually. Just has to keep the rich old regulars happy first.”