by June Shaw
Gil watched with a man’s look of admiration. He faced me, raising his eyebrows. “Hmm, nice,” he said, giving his head a nudge toward the exit.
“Oh, come on. She was a he.”
“Still, she doesn’t look bad.”
“Gil, she’s my aunt—who used to be my uncle.”
He chuckled. “Okay, I’ll leave her alone.”
“Good,” I said, almost certain he’d been kidding about being attracted to her.
The auctioneer snagged my awareness by speaking quite loudly, showing off her new offering, a hideous canvas covered with scattered bits of body parts.
I elbowed Gil. “I’m concerned,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“What’s wrong?” His forehead wrinkled.
“Look at them.” I jabbed my finger toward Tetter and Randy, who remained behind after other classmates left. The pair happily laughed with each other. As bidding began, Tetter gave her empty stemmed glass to a passing waitress, giggled with Randy, and accepted a new glass of champagne.
“What’s the problem there?” Gil asked me.
“Look at them. They seem giddy with each other.”
He leaned his forehead against mine. Dropping his finger to my neckline, he pulled my top open an inch and peeked inside. “I like giddy.”
“But they’re married. And not to each other.”
He shook his head. “I know you’d like to save the world and keep everyone on the right path. But you can’t control everyone, especially in the area of romance.”
“But—”
“I know. Your inner urges tell you you’re in charge of fixing up couples.”
“I do not. But Tetter is in a good marriage. She told me so,” I insisted as bidding increased on the body parts splattered on canvas.
Gil was giving me his annoying smirk.
“What?” I said.
He blew in my ear. “Stay out of other people’s love lives.”
I drew my head back. “I’ve fixed up some great couples.”
“You did. What about the last ones you tried to fix up?”
“Look at what’s happening this time.” I yanked up his hand holding the card.
“Nine hundred once, twice, sold!” called the exuberant auctioneer. “This beautiful piece goes to bidder number twenty-seven.”
Gil peered at his card with the winning numerals. He stared at me.
I lowered his hand. “What a lovely piece you bought. I hope you have the perfect place to put it.” I marched out of the room. Away from him, I giggled. I knew the exact place I would put that canvas. Face down, under my bed, terrifying roaches.
Satisfied with having tricked Gil, I considered the flirtatious looks he gave the curvaceous platinum blonde that he allowed to buy the artwork he’d almost bought for me. He’d given similar admiring glances to Sue.
Disgruntled, I wondered how I might fix myself up to resemble them. I wasn’t jealous. Gil recently accused me of wearing a jealous streak. Never!
What could I wear that might help me look better? Plastic surgery was out of the question. It couldn’t happen fast enough. I was too chicken anyway to have people cut me unless it was needed to save my life. I could easily have my hair colored but changed it often anyway, so much so I wasn’t sure what color it really was.
I’d walked off of carpet and now strode across white ceramic, I realized by the clop-clop of heels on the harder floor. The louder sound made me also look at people’s shoes. Women’s shoes.
Gil had been taken with those two attractive women who’d left the art auction. One thing that added to their bearing was their height. My five feet two inches would not make any male notice me next to women like that unless he was a little boy. Most females striding past me wore shoes with much height, even on flip-flops.
That’s what I needed. Heels. High heels. With slender straps crossing my ankles.
Exasperation came, and I slowed. A man just died on this ship—how horrible was that? And I was concerned about how I looked? His death was much more important. But as of this moment, I didn’t know what I could do about it.
I stepped around a Watch Your Step sign, one of many posted today. Maybe other people had perished on this boat. Jonathan Mill may have died from natural causes, but he seemed so young. Jitters skittered around in my chest like Mexican jumping beans because of my true belief. Someone killed him.
I needed to make certain that person was not someone I knew.
Sweat dampened my palms. I swiped them across something black in front of me, then noticed it was a satin gown. The gown hung on a rod next to a tall vat holding a jillion jellybeans.
“Can I help you?” The speaker was one of those spry young women in the ship’s uniform.
I smiled, becoming fully aware that I’d detoured into the glass-fronted shop that sold formal wear. “This is a lovely gown. I don’t see a price tag.” I wasn’t interested in buying a gown but needed to comment.
“This one’s been worn before. It’s a rental. You can rent formal items here, like for formal nights. We also have many items you can purchase.”
This was my kind of store. I could rent clothes and not have to lug them around. The only problem was that the rental shop carried only formals. And lots of candy—especially fine chocolates—and flowers to send to someone special.
I spent a few minutes inside and then left the shop with my purchase under my arm and a smirk draped on my face. Gil might like his women tall—although I did not care what he liked. Tonight the ship would hold its first formal night. I needed to get to my stateroom and practice walking. I might not be as striking as my aunt when our group promenaded this evening, but I refused to wear sparkles and have to take baby steps to keep up with them. Maybe I’d run into Gil during the evening, or I could run into a killer. Either way, I would present myself as a lethal figure in my brand new stilettos.
Chapter 8
Back in my stateroom, I showered, shampooed with exotic-scented shampoo, and stepped on a rug to dry myself. Someone knocked on my door.
I wrapped myself in a thick robe and checked the peephole.
“Jane,” I said, letting her in. I glanced out, satisfied not to see Tetter so I could speak with Jane alone.
“What time will you be ready? Maybe we can all have a drink together before dinner.” She skimmed my room. “This is so nice and roomy since you don’t have a roommate.” She rolled her eyes and sat on a cushioned side chair.
“I’ve wanted to ask about your roommate. Have you discovered what Tetter’s big problem is?”
“She hasn’t told me.”
“You must have an idea. You asked me to come and meet with high school buddies on this cruise, and we’d help Tetter solve a major problem.”
Jane grimaced. “At first when I invited her, she said she couldn’t come. She was experiencing big trouble.”
“Any details?”
“No. She said she was really sorry and would have loved to see us all again. We wrote her off for the trip. A couple of weeks later she called and asked if there was still space for her. I said yes. Barbara and I were supposed to share a room, but her daughter needed an appendectomy, and Barbara was going to take care of the kids, so I could share my room. I asked Tetter if her problem had been solved. She said it had only gotten worse, but she’d rather not think about it.”
“Good grief. We need to learn what it is and do everything we can to help.”
Jane glanced around my room. “You are so lucky you have a stateroom all to yourself.”
“It’s a lot more spacious but can be lonely when there’s no one with you.”
She grunted. “How about if your roommate sloshes down so much liquor she snores like a sailor?”
“Is that Tetter’s problem? She drinks too much? I saw her downing all that champagne so fast at the art auction.”
“I’m not sure. Last night she got to the room and said she was so sleepy, she was going right to bed. She snored like mad. Today she woke up just
in time to shower and dress and rush out to breakfast.”
“When you told me we could help her, I thought that was a given.”
“I figured she’d blab about her entire life the minute we saw her. I had no idea she had changed so much.”
I glanced down at my robed figure that had expanded quite a bit since high school. “Not at all like you and me, huh? We’ve both stayed exactly the same,” I said with a smirk.
“Right.” She grinned and patted her hips. “And if you don’t hurry and do something about your hair, you’re going to scare everybody away tonight.”
I felt my hair standing up. “Eek. I need to fix this.”
“Please do.” She smiled. “I’m going to start preparing myself for being beautiful.”
“Me too, and that takes quite a bit of preparation.” I clasped her hand. “We need to watch out for our friend. Something has her deeply troubled. Let’s work at repairing that situation.”
“We will. See you later.”
“Oh, and let’s not do drinks before dinner,” I suggested, walking her to the door. “That might not be good for Tetter.”
“Good idea. See you at dinner.”
“One other thing I’ve wanted to ask in private. Why did you invite one guy from our class to come along?”
“Actually, Randy called me. He’d heard we were having a class reunion and wanted to be part of it.”
“And you told him only females were coming?”
“Yes, and when I asked who he’d heard about the trip from, he’d forgotten.”
“Right.” I locked the door behind Jane and paused. She’d had me come on this trip believing she knew what troubled Tetter and that, like old times, we could help her. But they shared a room, and she didn’t know our buddy’s problem yet?
The old Tetter would have told Jane everything troubling her and possibly made Jane promise not to share the information.
I renewed my resolve to help Tetter become her vivacious self again.
And then I turned and noticed the mirror mounted on the closet door and gawked. I tossed my robe, jumped back into the shower, and shampooed again. I towel dried and then crimped my hair with my fingers.
Formal nights on cruises were my favorites. They made me feel like it was prom night, only there was none of the worry about comparing yourself to other females.
Except this time.
This ship carried some of my classmates. I would have thought that, because so many years had passed since we were teens, none of us would care about what the others wore or looked like, yet my mind’s image reminded me of the stilettos Sue and another woman who’d attracted Gil today wore. I grabbed my new purchase.
I coated my body with lightly fragranced lotion and pulled on my black lace panties and bra. I spent extra time with eyeliner, varying shades of eye shadow, two zaps of mascara, blush in the exact areas, and double coats of Killer-Red lipstick, then dressed.
“Not too damn bad, Cealie,” I said to the full-length mirror.
My satin deep blue wrap top shimmered with black shadows, the diamond heart on a chain Gil once gave me sparkling at my cleavage. Diamond dangling earrings set off my hair that now behaved. The slit up front of my long black knit skirt stopped above my knees and exposed my new open-toe black stilettos.
“Let Sue top this,” I said, ridiculously reassuring myself that I might look better than my former uncle.
Out in the hall, I glanced both ways, taking in all of the guests in their finery. What made people look best was their smiles. They’d made special effort to look good and appeared satisfied that they had done their best. Semi-formals overtook formals, although some men wore tuxes, the women accompanying them donning evening gowns.
The smiles people gave me, along with scans from my head to my shoes, made me feel good about myself, except for the few times I wobbled on my skinny heels.
Spotted groups wore swimsuits or casual wear, mainly young people who would have late seating for dinner or those who chose not to dress formally tonight.
“You look especially lovely this evening,” our maître d’ told me at the entrance to our dining room. He probably said that to everyone, yet it made me feel special.
Until I saw Sue.
She stood near our table, bending over while getting into her chair that Randy held out. Sue’s breasts would shame basketballs. Possibly that’s what the surgeon used to make them stand out like they did. In case anyone missed them, she wore a cherry red gown with a plunging neckline surrounded by one-inch-square shiny red stones. The gown clung to her slender waist and hips. Her stilettos were higher than mine. And they were crimson.
Randy looked suave in a navy suit and red tie. Jane sat at the table, hair pulled back in a twisted ’do with a wide rhinestone clip. She looked sleek and sexy in a simple black dress. I took the chair beside hers.
All of us praised the others’ appearances. Our table and the whole dining room appeared extra sparkly. Our table steward took the napkin that stood on my plate and opened it across my lap.
I thanked him and asked Jane, “Where’s Tetter? Still getting dressed?”
“She never came back to the room.”
I faced Randy. “You were with her last. Wasn’t she going back to her stateroom to change clothes?”
With wide-eyed innocence, he shrugged. “I have no idea where she went. She left the art gallery not long after you all did. She didn’t say where she was going. Maybe she got lost,” he said with a grin.
I didn’t think his response funny. He knew where she was heading once she left him. Why wasn’t he telling us the truth? He’d been flirtatious with her, and when she drank, she acted almost the same way with him.
A microphone interrupted my concerns. “Good evening. Welcome,” our maître d’ said from the center of the room. “All of you look extra special tonight. We hope our dinner offering will add to your enjoyment. Our Executive Chef, Andrew Sandkeep, is responsible for making this evening’s dinner and all of your excellent cuisine.”
People applauded as Sandkeep walked up.
Beyond him, I spied Gil. Gil in a tux looked yummier than ever. My heartbeat raced like I was sprinting. He sat at a table with his uncle and a family, apparently a husband and wife and two small children. Gil smiled at something the little girl said. Mm, what a smile. What a deliciously handsome man.
The Executive Chef’s words washed over me as I focused on something more tempting than his food—until he said the word Cajun. He said it with disdain.
Gil’s face whipped toward him.
“Since we have invited a Cajun chef during this cruise, tonight you will see the additional choice he prepares that is called Seafood Steak,” Sandkeep said.
“Yum,” Jane and Sue responded.
“It’s excellent,” I told them.
Many heads nodded, and people looked pleased about the dish the chef mentioned. Executive Chef Sandkeep gave Gil a swift glance with a grimace. Gil watched him, eyes hard and calculating. “So enjoy your meal and the rest of your evening,” Sandkeep said.
Jane gripped my arm. “Tell me about Seafood Steak.”
I wanted to keep watching Gil. I normally enjoyed eyeing him, especially tonight with him looking fantastic in that tux. But I was most interested in the unhappy gazes between Gil and Sandkeep.
Our steward handed us open menus with soup, salad, and entrée choices.
“Look, this tells about it,” I said to Jane, pointing at the inserted half-page headed Seafood Steak.
“Man, that looks good,” Sue said, nudging Randy and skimming the description. “It’s a fried steak that blends shrimp and crabmeat with many seasonings and is topped with a crayfish cream sauce. I want it.”
“I don’t,” Randy said. “I’m having the rib-eye steak.”
“You can have beef any day of the week. This is unique.” Sue spoke in an argumentative tone. Her lips were tight, her chin lifted. The profile made her Adam’s apple project, a reminder that at least par
ts of her remained male. I considered Jonathan. Was she with him right before he died? I needed to find out. Maybe Gil and I were the only people who knew they’d been together some time before Jonathan died.
“May I take your order?” Our steward’s presence calmed the situation at the table.
“Tell me something,” I said, and he smiled, glancing at my menu and surely expecting me to ask about a dish on it. “Do you know yet how that man onboard died?”
Sue gasped, and our waiter straightened, face solemn. “I know nothing about it.”
And you wouldn’t say it if you did. I ordered the cup of Chicken Gumbo and the Seafood Steak with sweet potato fries and then looked for Gil.
He stood near his table with his uncle, speaking to the Executive Chef. The chef gave Gil what appeared a drippy handshake, barely touching Gil’s hand with his fingers. Aiming a smile at the doctor, the chef exchanged a seemingly firm handshake with him and then walked away.
Gil peered across the room at me. Happy tingles started in my feet and danced higher.
“It’s about time,” Jane told Tetter, joining us at the table.
“I was checking out things around the boat and didn’t notice the time,” Tetter said. Our waiter set a napkin on her lap and handed her a menu, and she pointed out dishes.
Her lateness didn’t concern me. What surprised me was that, on this formal night, she still wore the casual clothes she’d worn all day. Her hair was mussed as though she had just climbed out of bed. Faint mascara smudges stretched beneath her eyes. As her gaze slid to Randy, a demure smile played around her lips.
He beamed at her.
Uh-oh, this didn’t look good. I feared they’d spent lots of time together since we left them, but not at the art auction. They could have spent quality time in Randy’s stateroom. And then he spruced up and changed into a suit, leaving her in bed to join us later so they wouldn’t walk in at the same time. She could have fallen asleep, awakened, and seen it was so late she decided to come straight here instead of concerning herself with changing clothes.
Or maybe that’s just what I would do—if I had been making mad love with Gil.
