Gazing around the room, I engaged in a little people-watching. One couple was so amorously engaged in long, lusty glances across the bar table they shared, I thought they were going to spontaneously combust the instant their fingers touched. They probably just met the day we sailed. It’s all about the physical chemistry.
I let my eyes wander around the room, seeking out something interesting, something more worthy of attention than my sore ankle. An older man in a tan checkered sport coat, yellow shirt, and brown pants was fiddling with the long green toothpick in his glass. He finally ate the two tiny onions stuck on the end of it, gave the drink another stir, and deposited the plastic spear on the table beside him. He’s waiting for someone, and judging from the fact that his glass is just about empty, I’d say she’s late. A moment later, his companion showed up, well-coiffed, her shoulders draped with a black-and-white silk scarf. She suddenly looked my way, aware of my interest, and shot me a death-ray stare that left no doubt how far she would go to protect her man from a hussy like me. I forced myself to look away, even as I stifled a smile. Well, that was fun. Now what?
A young woman, dressed in a bright red Western shirt with white fringe and tight black jeans, approached the thirty-something couple sitting at the table next to me. She held a stack of blue papers in her left hand.
“Hi. I want to invite you to our country jamboree tomorrow night in the Platinum Theatre. I hope you’ll come out for the show.” She thrust something at them. “Here’s a flyer about it.”
“Thanks.” He took the paper from her, glanced at it with feigned interest, and put it down at the far end of the table, away from his glass.
“We’ll try,” said the blonde woman dismissively. She turned her attention back to her date, picking up the conversation where she left off. Oh, there’s no way they’ll be at the show. These people never let their hair down. When you look up “sticks-in-the-mud” in the dictionary, this couple’s photo is right beside the definition.
A moment later, the young woman was standing beside me in her ruby leather cowboy boots. She seemed to hesitate when she saw my bandaged foot.
“Hi. I hope you’ll come to our show....”
I glanced at the piece of paper she held out to me. “Vicky and the Vixens?”
“That’s us. We’re fresh from Nashville and the Vegas Strip. We do two shows a night and we invite people to join us on stage for some line dancing. Although you probably....”
“Are you Vicky?” I felt my pulse pick up as I spoke that name.
“No, I’m Valerie. I do backup vocals.”
“Can I ask what Vicky’s last name is?” By now I was sitting up, feeling that electricity ripple through my body.
“Her last name?” Valerie seemed a little confused by my request, so I pretended I had a legitimate reason for asking.
“You mentioned Vegas. I just wondered if Vicky is the singer I met when I was out there.” Think fast, Miz Scarlet. You want Valerie to cough up Vicky’s last name. “I think her name was Dorsett or Doucette. It was something like that.”
“Actually, her last name is Vickerson.”
“Vicky Vickerson?”
“No,” said Valerie. A tiny smile crossed her lips. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but Vicky’s just her stage name. Her real name is Velma Sue. But that didn’t sound very sexy, so we named the group ‘Vicky and the Vixens’ instead. We all thought that was a much better choice.”
“Some would even say it’s foxy,” I kidded. Valerie gave me a bright smile.
“It is! So, do you think you’ll come to the show?”
“Oh, you can count on it,” I promised. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
By the time Kenny returned to our table with the drinks, I was beaming from ear to ear. My whole body was tingling with so much excitement, I thought I might pop right up and do the happy dance on the table, bad ankle and all.
“At last,” I greeted him enthusiastically. “Am I glad to see you!”
“Are you okay?” He sat down, leaning toward me for a closer look. There was a note of concern in his voice. His attention was on my eyes, as if he were checking me for dilated pupils. He thinks I’ve got a concussion and I’ve suddenly gone bonkers.
“Me? I’m fine. In fact, I’m better than fine. No headache, no confusion, no problem.”
“Good,” he nodded, still unconvinced. “Good. So....”
I picked up my frosty drink and gave him a wide grin. I was savoring the moment I would make my big announcement. “Here’s to solving the case. Let’s hope it doesn’t take us long.”
“Amen to that.” He took a long sip of his drink before carefully setting the glass down on the table. I could tell he was still worried about the outcome.
I went ahead and steered the conversation in a more positive direction, eager to spring my surprise on him. “So, were they able to catch the guy trying to board the ship?”
“That’s what I wanted to speak to you about, Scarlet. The security team is still waiting for him to show up. On the off-chance that he doesn’t, I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“You don’t think he’ll show up?”
“He may not.” Kenny shrugged, trying to minimize the seriousness of the situation. “It’s possible he’s figured out we’re onto him.”
“What happens then?” I wanted to know.
“We keep searching for the elusive Vicky, hoping we can locate her in time to save her life. At least we know when the killer plans to murder her. It’s better than nothing.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that if you could find Vicky, you wouldn’t be so worried about the killer?”
“Well, of course. That’s it in a nutshell. Our goal is to prevent another murder, Scarlet.”
“Hmm....”
“Hmm what?”
“What if Vicky isn’t the target’s real name?”
Chapter Nineteen --
“I don’t follow.” He was nursing his beer and I knew what that meant. Looks like he plans to work tonight and he wants to keep his wits about him.
“What if Vicky isn’t her real name?” I asked again.
Kenny took another sip, stalling for time. That usually meant he was about to let me down easy, assuming I was on a wild goose chase. “I know you’re trying hard to come up with an answer, Scarlet, but sometimes we just can’t....”
I took out the folded piece of blue paper I had tucked against the side of my wheelchair and opened it up with a rather theatrical flourish; then I slowly, deliberately, smoothed it out and slid it across the table until it was right in front of him. Using my index finger as a pointer, I directed his attention to the name of the group appearing in the Platinum Theatre tomorrow night. “See that?”
“Vicky and the Vixens. What’s your point?”
“They’re here on the ship, fresh from the Vegas Strip,” I announced gleefully. I kept my gaze on his face, waiting for the moment it all sunk into his brain. He looked up at me blankly.
“Did you want to go to the show? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“And they also played Nashville,” I added. He blinked four times before the light came on in the proverbial attic.
“Nashville?” Oh, he’s interested. Very interested.
“Home of the Grand Ole Opry,” I reminded him. “Didn’t Anson Reddy spend some time at the Grand Ole Opry just before he was stabbed and dumped in the Cumberland River?”
“Huh. Well, what do you know?” He picked up the notice, staring at the faces of the four women in the photograph. “Vicky and the Vixens....What makes you think she changed her name?”
“Valerie told me. She sings backup in the band.”
“Valerie.”
“That’s right.” My ankle pain was almost forgotten, thanks to the euphoria I experienced from this development. Kenny was perking up too. He leaned over the table, took my hand in his, and brought it up to his lips for a kiss.
“Have I told you lately that I adore you?
I don’t suppose you know what Vicky’s real name happens to be.”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” I grinned. “It’s Velma Sue Vickerson.”
“Well, butter my buns and call me a Parker House roll.” He drained his glass in one big gulp. “I don’t know how you do it, Miz Scarlet, but you’ve done it once again.”
“Most folks would say it’s dumb luck,” I laughed, “pure and simple. I was sitting here, minding my own business, and Valerie approached me.”
“Yes,” he leaned forward and kissed me again, this time on the lips. When we came up for air, he let out a little chuckle. “Of course that’s what happened. You realize Marley’s never going to hear the end of this, don’t you? His team of security professionals have been working non-stop to solve this case and you sit in a bar, in a wheelchair no less, and the answer simply drops into your lap. It’s absolutely amazing.”
“To be fair, I did actually have to put two and two together, to come up with four. I assumed you people had already checked out every woman on the ship with the name Victoria. But when I saw the name, ‘Vicky and the Vixens’, on the flyer, and heard they had played Nashville and Vegas, it reminded me of a Sherlock Holmes’ quote.”
“It did?”
“Remember the saying, ‘How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?’ Well, no one from Royal Caribbean could identify the right Vicky, despite having the passenger manifest with every name on it. Why? Because no other Vicky or Victoria fit the profile of someone that both George Delaney and Anson Reddy had met. But a country music star who’s played Nashville, whose stage name is Vicky? That fits.”
“I don’t know if our relationship is going to survive you quoting Arthur Conan Doyle,” he told me sternly. “Sherlock Holmes was my childhood hero. I hate to get trumped by my girlfriend.”
“Oh, poor darling, is your male pride damaged?” I laughed. “Somehow I think you’ll survive, Captain Peacock.”
“I hope so,” he smiled as he put his glass down on the table and stood up. “Shall we?”
“We shall. I just have one question for you. How are you going to tell Laurel that we’re working all night long?”
“I’m not, because you’re not. I promised your mama I would return you in one piece and that’s what I’m going to do. Besides, I need some sleep myself. Now that we’ve got some information to go on, we’re going to let the FBI take the lead. This is a federal investigation, Miz Scarlet, and we don’t interfere.”
“You’re really going to sleep tonight, with all this going on?”
“I am, the minute we drop this off for the Royal Caribbean security team.” He picked up the blue flyer, refolded it carefully, and slipped it into his pants pocket.
“Are you going to let Marley get the credit for this, Kenny?”
“Oh hell, no! What I’m going to do is let the folks in the security office know what you found and ask them to find Marley, so he can contact the FBI team. By the time I’m done telling everyone how you cracked the mystery, my old buddy will have to find another way to redeem his honor.
“He’ll have to find the killer?”
“He will. The pressure is on. And since I know how competitive he is, I’m counting on him going for gold. He’s going to have to earn the respect of his team on this one and show them why he’s the big cheese sitting in his fancy office in Miami.”
“You think he can?”
“Make no mistake about it, Scarlet. Marley Hornsby is a very experienced investigator. With the resources he has at his disposal and the fact that the FBI team is on board, he’ll do it. You do want Vicky to live, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. I just think it would be nice if you got some credit.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he laughed. “I’m also good at what I do, and one thing I learned a long time ago is that it takes a team to solve a case. Everybody’s got a job to do. Even if you don’t solve the clues, you still play a role in eliminating those that don’t fit.”
“I suppose so.”
“You don’t seem convinced.”
“I just hate missing the big show.”
“Be careful what you wish for, Miz Scarlet. You might find yourself tied up for weeks while the case is tried in federal court. What would that do for your career as an innkeeper?”
“Good point, Captain Peacock.”
By ten, we had dropped off the flyer and shared the good news about possibly finding Vicky, not only with the Royal Caribbean security team, but also one of the FBI agents, who just happened to be working at one of the computers in the office at the time. Todd Leahy immediately put four Royal Caribbean security supervisors to work doing the background information on Vicky and the Vixens. He wanted the names of all the people traveling with the group, so he could call the office in Knoxville, Tennessee and coordinate the investigation on that end of the line.
“Hey, I want to thank you two. This looks like a pretty solid lead,” said Agent Leahy. “It’s going to be great if it gives us a fighting chance to prevent a third murder.”
“Someone went to a lot of trouble to try to kill Velma Sue Vickerson,” I remarked. “Why?”
Agent Leahy looked down at the blue flyer he held in his hands. “There’s probably big money on the line. If Velma Sue Vickerson is a rising star at the Grand Ole Opry, she’s probably surrounded by an entourage and everyone wants a piece of her. Maybe she stiffed the killer in a record deal or she wants a divorce.”
“Or organized crime is involved,” Kenny suggested. “Bootleg copies of recordings can make someone a fortune. Maybe she was going to blow the whistle on the guy.”
“Does that mean she knows she’s being stalked on the ship and that the killer is out to get her?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Ms. Wilson,” he admitted, “but I doubt it. What sane woman would willingly take a cruise, knowing she’s going to wind up swimming with the fishes?”
“True,” I agreed. “That would be rather foolish.”
If Velma Sue didn’t know she was marked for murder, she would have no way of knowing she was in danger. But what had that accomplice said? “The last time we tried this, she fought back. You know how hard it was to explain the bruises. Her sister asked too many questions.”
But the killer had told her not to worry, that he could control the sister. I wonder if Velma Sue’s sister is also in danger.
“Well, good luck,” Kenny told him, extending his hand to the other man, “I hope it all works out for both Kathleen and Velma Sue. I’m sure you’ll catch the guy before he strikes again.”
“It’s only a matter of time before we collar the suspect. It’s not like he’s got a lot of room to run. Bermuda isn’t exactly the Big Apple. If he tries to leave the country without returning to the ship, he’ll be stopped.” Agent Leahy took my hand and patted it. “Thanks again for bringing us this information, Ms. Wilson.”
“Please call me Scarlet.”
“If you’re going to insist on first names,” he smiled, “I’m Todd.”
“Todd, it is.”
“On that note,” said Kenny, “we’ll say good night.”
We headed back to our sixth floor staterooms, eager to get some quality shut-eye time. All I could think of was how good it was going to feel to lie down and close my eyes.
As expected, Laurel was waiting up for us, worried that something had happened. Thaddeus was sleeping soundly on my bed, his hands folded upon his chest and his mouth open. Every once in a while, he took a deep breath and a soft snort emerged.
“You’ll never guess what happened to me,” I whispered to Laurel. I gave her the short version of my fortuitous meeting with Valerie and Kenny’s sighting of the killer back on Front Street. “So, now the FBI is checking things out, and hopefully, they’ll get this guy as soon as he tries to board the ship. Isn’t that great?”
“It is as long as you’re not hurt. I’m sorry we didn’
t believe you when you told us you were pushed.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like this has been an ordinary night for the Wilsons,” I told her. Leaning over, I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Tell Thaddeus to come wake me up when he wants to go to bed in his stateroom.”
“I will. You’ll leave the door open?”
I was about to chide her for being an overly protective mother when I realized Laurel was more than a little nervous about safety. My run-in with the hood of that car in Hamilton had shaken her faith. Now that she had come to believe I was telling the truth about being tripped, she had to worry that someone would come back and take another whack at murdering me.
“We’ll keep it open and I’ll leave the bathroom light on. Don’t worry. I’ve got my trusty Captain Peacock to watch my back,” I whispered. “Holler if you need us.”
Twenty five minutes later, I was lying on top of Thaddeus’s bed, wrestling with a bad case of insomnia while my mind worked overtime. What’s bothering you, Miz Scarlet? Is it that Velma Sue Vickerson might not know she’s being stalked by a man who’s killed twice already or is it that someone tried to kill you tonight?
I gave it some thought. It’s not like I haven’t incurred the wrath of a demented man before. Lord knows I’ve had a target on my back more than once. But that wasn’t it. I knew the FBI and the Royal Caribbean security team was working on the case. No, my problem was far more pressing than that. What if Velma Sue was still a target even if the killer couldn’t get back on the ship? What if his accomplice was ready and willing to kill her tonight? Wouldn’t that make the killer look innocent?
“Kenny!” I hissed to the man in the next bed. He rolled over onto his side. “Kenny!”
“Ya-ya-ay-um,” he muttered. I took that to be dream speak for “What do you want now, Scarlet?”
“What if the killer’s accomplice murders Velma Sue tonight, all because the killer can’t get back on the ship?”
“La-um-da-dere....”
“Kenny!” I sat on his bed and nudged him. “Wake up! Come on!”
“Aw-w-w-w!” he groaned. His eyelids fluttered a few times before he glanced up at me, frowning. “Oh! Tell me you have a good reason for waking me up!”
[Scarlet Wilson 05] - Miz Scarlet and the Perplexed Passenger Page 17
