“Can you give us the name of that guest who encountered the distraught woman, please?” Jack asked. “Maybe she can help us identify the woman she spoke to this morning. Security has probably already tracked her down, but we want to be certain we’ve contacted everyone who has any information about what went on.”
Kayla nodded, her fingers clicking away on the keyboard in front of her. She glanced at the computer screen and then wrote a name and cabin number on one of the appointment cards they give out to guests. Smiling, Kayla handed that card to Jack. “Hope this helps you find what you’re looking for,” she added with a smile.
“Thanks,” I replied, getting her to let go of that card she had offered to Jack. “That brings me back to why we’re here. Have you seen this woman?” I showed her a photo of Tina Marston.
“Oh yes, that’s Tina Marston,” she responded. “We call her ‘Monster Marston’ around here because of the monstrous workouts she does. She’s the one who gave us that nickname she earned during her military service.”
“Can you check to see if she was in here for appointments on Monday, Tuesday, or Thursday?” I asked.
“I don’t have to check those dates. Tina scheduled a massage every day. Her routine was pretty much the same—a killer workout first thing in the morning, followed by taking the waters, and then a massage. She was here for a couple hours at least. Never missed a workout. Never late for an appointment. The perfect client,” Kayla added.
“Taking the waters?” Jack asked.
“It’s a series of baths, Jack—really quite rejuvenating,” I responded, with a bit too much enthusiasm for someone there on business. I’d indulged myself this week and my mind drifted back to that blissful bath I’d just taken. Soaking in warm, soothing scented balms seemed so much better than asking questions about women who might be involved in a theft ring and murder. I tried to switch back to a more professional tone. “You really should try them out for yourself, Detective. They have the same service for men.” Too late.
“I knew I’d seen you before,” Kayla said. “You were leaving the spa yesterday just as I started my shift. I heard this was a honeymoon cruise for you.” Suspicion stole over her as she looked at me, glanced at Jack, and then fixed her gaze on me. I almost blushed, waiting for her to cry, “Jezebel” as Justin had done earlier.
A sideways glance at Jack must have revealed some clue to the fact that my embarrassment was morphing into indignation. He fought to keep a smile on his lips from spreading across his face. Then, before I could say another word, he changed the subject speaking in a friendly, matter of fact tone.
“You’ve been very helpful to our investigation, Kayla. Just one more question before we go.” He beamed a Jim Rockford smile at her that worked like a charm. Suspicion fled, along with any regard for my presence at all as far as I could tell.
“Have you noticed a woman with shoulder-length, blond hair in here this week? Perhaps working out with Tina or in here around the same time?”
“Oh sure. You’re talking about Abby Kinkaid. She’s in good shape, but no way could she keep up with Monster Marston. An odd friendship, but that’s one of the interesting outcomes of being on a cruise—you meet all sorts of new people. Abby was almost as disciplined about her fitness routine as Tina. Not today. Neither of them showed up—not even Tina—so even she's not the perfect client, is she?” She shrugged.
“I guess everyone’s knocked off balance by the sad events this morning and the change in our itinerary,” I said. It occurred to me, though, that neither woman had an alibi for what went on this morning. If Abby had been with Jake Nugent before he became embroiled in a fight to the death on Deck 6, that would explain how he picked up those blond hairs.
“Yeah, guests are upset about the idea of some guy floating around out there, lost or drowned. It’s been surprisingly good for business here, though. Until that dessert pig-out started a little while ago, passengers were lined up in here.” She lowered her voice as she spoke those last words as another Spa Attendant passed us with a client at her side. “It’s slowed down a lot, but we still have more bookings than we would have had if we’d made it to Bora Bora and guests had gone ashore today.”
“How about a cabin number for Abby Kinkaid and then we’ll let you get back to work, all right?” Jack said with another of those dazzling smiles on his face. Kayla hopped to it and typed the Kinkaid woman’s name on the keyboard, a loopy grin on her face.
I added a drooling redhead to the sultry brunette and cool blond on the list of women of interest to this investigation. Inwardly, I harrumphed, wondering if it would be fair to ask my one-week-husband to rely less on his masculine charm in his police work. I snapped back into snoop mode and asked one last question of my own.
“Do Abby and Tina use the same lockers when they’re in here or do you assign them new ones each time?”
“Since they’re regulars, they have the same lockers for the duration of the cruise.”
“I’m afraid I just lied to you, Kayla,” Jack said. “We’re going to need to look at those lockers before we leave.”
“Jack, I don’t believe Kayla’s going to want you roaming around in the women’s locker room. Why don’t I call Maggie and ask her to join me as soon as she can get up here?” Jack nodded and then sighed.
It was my turn to read his thoughts. “Eat dessert first,” was written on that sigh. I wanted to reach out with a reassuring touch, but that might earn me another of those ‘shameless hussy’ glances from the auburn-haired Spa Attendant. For the moment, Kayla had no interest in me at all. She was intent on answering an unrelated question Jack had asked her about “taking the waters.” A perfect distraction while I tracked down Maggie and spoke to her.
“Maggie,” I said as soon as she answered my call. “It’s Georgie. Can you come up to the spa for a few minutes—bring your gloves and baggies and those tweezers you use to pick up hairs. If we’re lucky, we may have a few more for you.”
Twenty minutes later Maggie and I had completed the task. Maggie bagged everything left in both women's lockers: a sweatband and an ointment for pain relief in Tina's locker along with a bathing suit and a small bag of toiletries. We found similar items in Abby's space, along with an extra change of clothes. Nothing struck me as unusual about anything we found. The effort had proved useful in another way, however. Not only had we located several more strands of blond hair from Abby's locker, but we discovered a dark brown hair, too. Monster Marston's cubbyhole had also yielded a couple of hairs—dark ones. The question I hoped Maggie could answer was would those blond hairs from Abby match those she had collected already? Had we discovered the identity of our cool blond?
On our way to that dessert fest, Jack and I discussed what we had learned from our visit. As it turned out, Jack's casual conversation with Kayla had been very revealing. When Jack ventured onto the subject of spa treatments for men—like taking the waters—he mentioned Jake Nugent. Like Abby and Tina, Jake Nugent had also been a regular guest at the spa and fitness center. Several expensive watches and a signet ring on that list of missing jewelry had gone missing on dates Jake Nugent had visited the spa or fitness center.
“What a busy little circle of thieves. Smart, too, that no one caught them in the act. Have you found out more about who Jake Nugent is—or was before that third man murdered him this morning?”
“Yes. That’s only one of the things I worked on while you were snoozing in the tub. He’s a regional sales rep for a jewelry company in Dallas.”
“Wow! That means he knew a thing or two about jewelry.”
“Very true. Jake Nugent traveled throughout the Southwest visiting the company’s retail outlets with the newest designs, new inventory, and company sponsored sales on older items. The background report is rather general, but he had been with the same company for ten years. He made good money but seemed to have had plenty of expenses, too, including alimony to an ex-wife.”
"From what you've told me before, Jack, money
problems might explain how a man with a steady job in the jewelry business could get mixed up with thieves."
"Also, true, Georgie. Money is second only to love as a motive for murder and mayhem."
Before he could say more, our conversation ended abruptly.
10 Eat Dessert Twice
“Welcome, Georgie! You look gorgeous. That’s beautiful, too,” he said examining my pendant. “Welcome, Jack! I’m so glad you could make it. Paolo’s display is a huge success. Olly-Olly is taking some hits, as you can see.” My old friend had been on the lookout when we arrived at the entrance to the dessert extravaganza. He had swept us into the banquet room, decked out for the event with colorful streamers, balloons, and other decorations.
I followed Gerard’s pointing finger and watched as children stood in line to stab at Olly-Olly’s tentacle set on a table low enough for children to reach without help from adults. It was an impressive display, with those chocolate arms winding their way down two sides so kids could go at it from either side. A parent held up a child who took aim higher up at Penelope’s nemesis.
“Take that, Olly-Olly,” the child cried as a hunk of chocolate landed on her plate. Several other kids followed suit, uttering that cry or a similar one, and the clash of tridents was on!
Given that hundreds of passengers roamed about the space in which Gerard had set out his fantasyland of desserts, it was remarkably well-ordered chaos. Two dozen separate stations were set up around the perimeter of the large space. Kitchen staff darted expertly around the buffet lines, replacing empty platters with new ones, straightening up off-kilter serving dishes, and tidying the buffet tables as they went.
Servers waited on seated passengers as well, bringing beverages and other items to their tables. Champagne corks popped as servers poured out the bubbly to adults in attendance. I could smell the heavenly aroma of coffee. Servers whizzed by with coffee pots and pitchers of milk. Along with the sugar buzz from chatty passengers, dishes clanked as they were placed on tables or whisked away.
“I smell peanut butter,” Jack announced suddenly. “I was hoping you’d have macadamia nut pie, but peanut butter cookies will do.”
“There’s no shortage of nuts, macadamia or otherwise, I assure you. Plenty of chocolate, too, for even a discriminating chocoholic like you, Georgie. Follow me, you two. I have a table set up for us in an out of the way corner. We’ll dig in along the way. I’ll happily serve as your guide to all the delights on Penelope’s reef of treasures and treats.”
As Gerard moved, it was as if the seas parted. Perhaps, it was his tall hat that towered above most everyone in the room. He snapped his fingers and kitchen staff were upon us with china plates and utensils. Jack and I followed as Gerard rattled off the names of items that lined Penelope’s “reef,” a display comprised of faux rocks and coral shelves repeated in many locations around the room. Other passengers leaned in, listening to the Chef’s descriptions of the mouth-watering desserts.
When we reached our seats, Jack and I each had two plates. One of my plates contained nothing but chocolate truffles with a variety of fillings. The other held a small square of coconut pineapple cake adorned with a golden spiral of spun sugar, and a sliver of that macadamia nut pie Jack had hoped to find. When I sat down, I attacked the cup of coffee before me, and then tackled those truffles. The effect was immediate. My energy and mood surged.
“Bravo, Gerard. These are excellent. Even though I’ve seen your workspace with my own eyes, I’m stunned that you could pull this off,” I said.
“Paolo’s not the only chocolatier aboard. That’s what made me decide we’d sweeten things up tonight with a dessert bonanza. Since Paolo’s centerpiece was going to be part of our luau celebration if we’d kept to our original plan to party on the beach in Bora Bora tonight, we had a head start on that piece. Our other pâtissier was away from her station when you were in the commissary, or I would have introduced you to her. She went into high gear when I told her what we had in mind for tonight and helped produce mass quantities of truffles to die for!”
Inwardly, I winced at that "to die for" phrase. “To chocolatiers!” I said, raising my cup of coffee in a toast. “Please thank her for us.” Jack nodded as he continued to pack away the desserts on his plate, his mouth too full to say a word. I drained that cup of coffee and poured more. I still had plenty of chocolate and sugar left in front of me when Jack’s phone rang. Although he had done a much better job than me of devouring his desserts, he wasn’t quite finished yet, either.
“Excuse me,” Jack said as he stepped away from our table to take that call. I continued to chat and give Gerard feedback about those truffles—mostly “mm's” and “ah’s.” I tried to be pleasant and make conversation even though I was anxious about that call.
When he returned, Jack was not wearing the happy face that truffles, a peanut butter brownie bite, a triple salted-caramel mini-cupcake, and macadamia nut pie with vanilla ice cream had put there before he answered his phone. Our dalliance over dessert was at an end.
“I’m sorry, Gerard, to eat and run, but duty calls. If I’ve ever had better desserts, I don’t know when or where—except for the ones my wife whips up, of course,” Jack added a wink that was supposed to reassure me. It did not. I could tell he was upset.
Gerard smiled, but a worried expression warred with that smile. He knew something was up, too. When we sat down, I had used Jack’s “eat dessert first” adage to explain why we were having dessert before dinner. I had not mentioned that we might also have to leave in haste. Still, Gerard got it.
“No need to apologize. I understand that the reasons you have to ‘eat dessert first’ don’t always allow you to explain when it’s time to go.” In a quieter voice, Gerard added. “Please be careful. It sounds like you two were already warned once today about getting into the middle of whatever’s going on.” I tried to hide my surprise.
“How did you hear about that?” I asked.
“Bill Tate mentioned it when he dropped by to discuss security precautions in place for this event. Maybe your dislike of Penelope and Perroquet’s song was a premonition, Georgie,” Gerard replied.
That Bill had been the source of information about our mishap was a relief. “I won’t say it was a premonition, but it has done nothing to improve my attitude about that song,” I said. “We’ll be careful, Chef. I hope you’re doing everything by the book as Bill has asked you to do.”
“As if it’s a recipe for staying alive and well, Georgie.” He stood and snapped his fingers again. When a member of the kitchen staff rushed to respond, Gerard said only a few words: “Take-outs, please!”
The young woman in kitchen whites tore off and was back in a flash with take-out boxes bound by elastic ribbon and topped with silvery bows and a fresh orchid. “Just in case you were unable to join us, I put together some treats for you. Eat dessert twice has to be about as good as eating dessert first, don’t you agree?”
“Aw, how lovely. Thanks, Gerard,” I said giving my old friend a hug. The thoughtfulness of that gift had raised Jack’s spirits too.
“Why not ‘eat dessert twice?’ Especially if it involves chocolate, right Georgie?’
“If you can get away with it…” I was about to add something about how many hours of gym time Jack and I ought to log in the wake of our over-indulgence. Before I could finish that sentence, however, Paolo appeared as if he had just materialized out of thin air.
“Get away with what?” Paolo asked. A blinding smile radiated as he moved around from behind Gerard and stepped close to me. His piercing blue eyes glittered as he waited for my response.
“Eating dessert twice,” I replied, as I stood to leave. Jack took a step toward the exit. Paolo glanced his way and promptly directed his gaze back to me.
“No! Please don’t tell me you are leaving so soon.” Paolo reached out and took my hand. Then as if in a scene from one of those period pieces of the cinema featuring the European aristocracy or continental Romeos,
he kissed it! I pulled my hand back and stood there in disbelief. Before speaking again, Paolo raised one hand in an operatic gesture as Pavarotti might do.
“I was hoping to hear you enjoyed the chocolate that Gerard says makes you smile. A smile I have already seen that is as bright as the sun at dawn even without my inspired chocolate.”
I heard a small cough come from Jack. Or maybe it was the sound he makes when he clears his throat before speaking. We were in a hurry so that could explain the noises. Still, I couldn’t help but notice that Jack had clenched his jaw in a tense, angry way.
That ticked me off. Surely, Jack couldn't believe Paolo’s flattery worked on me? If anything, it had almost the opposite effect. I’d fought the urge to slap his face for his cheekiness. I’m no sucker for smooth talkers, even pretty ones, like Paolo. Nor did I miss the fact that his high opinion of my smile was most likely a pale second to his regard for his inspired chocolate. In any case, it was time to go. Jack spoke before I could say goodbye.
“Sorry, Pal. You’re out of luck. Georgie’s had all the sugar she can handle for one night. We’re in a rush, so we’ll have to discuss your inspired chocolate another time. Thanks again, Gerard. Ciao, Paolo!” Jack reached out and cupped my elbow with his hand, ushering me toward the door. I waved as we made our way through the crowd and out the door onto the deck of the ship. I caught a smile and a little bow in return from Paolo before he slipped into the seat Jack had occupied.
Maybe I was no fool for Paolo, but Gerard beamed as Paolo sat down facing him. I’m not sure why I felt so uneasy about Gerard's fascination with Paolo. I hoped he was keeping quiet about the investigation on board and taking precautions as Bill had advised him to do—even with Paolo.
Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Box Set Page 46
