The Corpse with the Diamond Hand

by Cathy Ace

  Derek grinned. “I’m getting better at bluffing out the amateurs,” he smiled. “But the casino crowd on a ship ain’t like the folks you find in Vegas, for example. The high rollers here wouldn’t stand a chance there. I’m doing fine. About forty thousand up to date.” He leaned toward Bud and added, “I might come away from this trip with enough money to cover my costs. I like sticking it to the Man and getting a freebie when I can.” He looked pleased with himself, but not smug.

  “I wish you all the best with that,” said Bud evenly. I was still grappling with the idea that someone would risk enough to win forty thousand dollars, and that that was how much their trip had cost them. A university professor’s pay means I’m used to a different category of price ranges, and I never, ever, gamble; my eidetic memory might mean I could count cards at will, if I chose to do so, but my moral compass, and my love of justice and fair play, mean I’ll never do it.

  “Such a shame,” said Laurie. “No one deserves to go so fast, just like that, on the spot.”

  “There are worse ways,” said Derek.

  “Oh, I know, honey,” replied his wife soothingly, “but, still … I guess it must have been his heart. They just pop, don’t they? Sometimes, I mean. Remember Big Lou, Derek? Dropped dead on the thirteenth hole at the golf club, didn’t he? The Board even had a meeting about changing the numbers of the holes after that. You know,” she turned to me, “like they don’t have a Deck 13 on the ship? I think it’s best not to tempt fate.” She sucked at her drink again.

  “Did you ever see Tommy playing in the casino?” asked Bud, surprising me.

  Derek shook his head. “Told me he wasn’t allowed to. Said no one who works in any capacity on the ship is allowed to play in the casino. Not even the video poker or the slot machines. It wouldn’t look good if they won.”

  “Except when the officers have their tournament against the guests, right?” said Laurie, smiling.

  Derek’s response was cheerful. “Except then, yes. The chief engineer and I had quite the battle,” he added by way of explanation to Bud and me. He slapped the table as he laughed. “Good man, nerves of steel, but I got him in the end.”

  “But it was only for chips, not money, honey,” said Laurie, still smiling.

  “It’s the principle,” said Derek. “That was a sweet victory, and a real crowd pleaser. We were quite the draw that evening, no mistake.”

  Laurie chimed in with, “That’s the one night I’ve stayed to watch you play, honey. Tommy was there that night, standing right behind the chief engineer. What’s his name again?”

  “His name is Aetios Papadakis, known as Chief Papa,” said Derek.

  “Of course,” Laurie said, looking relieved. “I knew it was something like that. I might be good at judging people, but I’m hopeless with names, especially the foreign ones. They’re all Greek on this ship, aren’t they?”

  “The people who run the ship as a vessel, rather than the hotel or entertainment parts of the operation, tend to be Greek, as are the owners of the Stellar Cruise Line,” I replied. “Greeks have a long and traditional relationship with the sea.”

  “It’s all well and good to be treated like royalty, but we want to be safe when we’re in the middle of the ocean,” said Derek. “That’s why we like this line: great safety record. We check these things out, right, Laurie?”

  “We sure do. I want to look my best, and they do have a great spa here, but it’s no good to you in a life raft. Poor Tommy. So sad to die at sea. I guess it’ll be complicated—dealing with the body and all. I didn’t like to ask Ezra, but he seemed to have a lot of paperwork to fill out.”

  “I expect they’re tracking down his family right now,” I said as innocently as I could.

  “He didn’t have any family,” said Laurie. “He told me his mom and dad had passed, and that he was an only child. Never married, he said. Looked kinda sad when he said that.”

  “When did he tell you all that?” asked Derek, puzzled.

  “When I got chatting with him at the luau. He said it must be nice to have folks come to a place like Pearl Harbor to remember you when you’ve gone, because people like him, with no one left, would never be remembered at all.”

  “Now we’ll remember him as the guy who died on this ship, in that room, right in front of us all,” said Derek. “Maybe not the way he’d want to be recalled, but he’ll be the talk of the rest of this cruise, and many in the future, I bet. From the days when we used to share a dinner table with other people, I know the topic of how people had been evacuated off a ship, or how many people had died on a cruise, would become the sole conversation at a table, each person or couple trying to outdo another. Grisly. It’s why we only go to the dining room if we’re at the captain’s table, like tonight. Ha! For once we have the best story of all, though I guess it would be kinda impolite to bring it up.”

  “Ezra was keen to suggest it’s something to keep off the list of topics tonight,” said Bud.

  “Oh, he did with us too, didn’t he, Derek?” said Laurie. “That’s why it’s so nice to have the chance to talk to you about it, because I’m just fit to bust with something if I know it’s a secret.”

  Bud and I had both finished our drinks, and I’d done my best to nibble only healthy snacks, like celery and strawberries.

  “I’m pleased to see you didn’t serve us poi,” I noted, glad to find a way back to the critical topic.

  Laurie pulled a face. “Horrible stuff. Tommy talked to me about poi like some people talk about coffee. But there’s no way I’ll ever eat it again. Slimy stuff, right honey?” She looked at her husband who was staring into his drink as though it were an abyss.

  Snapping up his head, he grinned. “Yep, slime. Not fit for a dog. Now, what time is it, and when do you have to leave, honey?”

  I felt as though Bud and I were about to be dismissed, and that was what happened, but in a polite way, and with a promise that we’d all try to meet up for a drink before dinner.

  As Bud and I padded across the sumptuous carpet toward the door that led back to the “normal” luxury of the rest of the ship, I whispered, “Didn’t want to talk poi, did he?”

  To which Bud replied, “I cannot imagine that most people would.”

  Stateroom 3749, Aft

  MAKING OUR WAY BACK TO our stateroom made me realize how far the people who worked on board the ship had to walk every day, just to get from one place to another. Bud and I had made every effort to get off at each port and we’d strolled a good deal on land, but we’d been fairly static since the ship had been at sea. Well, I had, though Bud had enjoyed his laps of the Promenade Deck after his visit to the gym every morning.

  As we descended the stairs—walking down counts as exercise in my book—we had to navigate gaggles of folks taking the self-directed walking tour of the artworks onboard. We kept running into couples gazing at a piece of art in the stairwell with headsets plugged in, expressions of rapt interest on their faces. Bud and I had done it the second morning we were at Lahaina, killing time until we could get on a tender boat to take us ashore. It was a better choice than sitting about waiting, and I’d enjoyed it a great deal. Until then, it hadn’t dawned on me that the sheer amount of art purchased for each of these gleaming vessels meant that the companies that own cruise ships are among today’s largest commissioners and purchasers of art produced by living artists. And that’s not even counting the artworks being sold at auction on the ship, which was another thing that surprised me; I couldn’t imagine buying a piece by Salvador Dalí, or Peter Max for that matter, on a ship, then getting it delivered to Canada. The paperwork must be nightmarish.

  “What are we going to say to Ezra about the time we’ve just spent with the Croppers?” asked Bud guiltily, as we reached Deck 8.

  I gave it some thought. “I think we have to be honest about it. Derek was insistent that we join them. It wasn’t our fault. We didn’t initiate the contact.”

  “So spin it, don’t lie?” replied B
ud.

  I nodded.

  Turning toward our stateroom, I heard a reedy voice call my name. It was Janet Knicely. My heart sank.

  “I thought it was you,” she said, beaming as she approached. Her eyes were almost shut in her usual, off-putting manner. How does she not bump into things when she’s on the move? “We just got the all-clear to leave our cabin by the security chap. Has he seen you too?”

  “He has,” I answered.

  “Oh, it’s like on the telly, isn’t it, when they grill people. Though he wasn’t that bad, I suppose. I was just going to fetch Nigel so we could go for a stroll on the top deck, but I wanted to swap my library book first. Sitting about waiting for that chap, I finished the one I had. And I like to take the stairs when I can. Why don’t you come with, and we could all take a stroll together?”

  Bud demurred, but I agreed. Bud was holding my hand when I did so, and gave me a hard squeeze.

  “Oh, lovely,” squealed Janet. “Nigel will be pleased. Likes the company of men, does Nigel. Come on—oh, let’s take the lift down to Deck 3, or my feet’ll get sore.”

  As Bud and I tagged along, dawdling a little, he hissed, “This is a very bad idea.”

  “It’s too good a chance to pass up,” I replied, as Janet blindly grinned at us. She kept hitting the down button on the elevator, as though that would make it arrive more quickly.

  Once inside, she asked, “So where are you from in Wales, Cait?”

  “I’m from Swansea. Do you know it?”

  “Not really. It’s quite close to Bristol, I know, but I’ve only been there once. Nigel and I went to the Brangwyn Hall for a concert many years back. They’ve put in a new Severn Bridge now, haven’t they? I don’t think I’ve even been to Wales since it opened. I’m always so busy.”

  “But it opened back in 1996,” I said, surprised that a woman from Bristol, which is about thirty miles from the Severn Crossing, wouldn’t have ventured across it in over fifteen years.

  “Really?” Janet Knicely sounded genuinely astonished. “I didn’t think it was that long ago. My, how time flies.” I suspected that our time with the Knicelys would do anything but.

  When we arrived at their stateroom, Janet knocked, which surprised me. Nigel pulled open their door, and looked taken aback. Nevertheless, he invited us to enter. Bud and I hesitated. I could see that their room was exactly the same as ours, except that where we had a balcony door, they had a wall with a round, backlit mirror, giving the room at least the illusion that it had some natural light, but the entire place suggested claustrophobia.

  “I thought we could all take a turn on the top deck, dear,” Janet said quickly.

  Nigel looked relieved. “Good idea. Close quarters in here. I’ll just get my bits and pieces.”

  “I wonder, would it be rude of me to use your loo before we leave?” I asked.

  Bud gave me one of his looks as Janet gushed, “Of course you can. I expect all these rooms are the same, so you’ll know where it is. Not that there’s a lot of choice, given the overall dimensions of the place. Come on in, Bud. I’ll just get a hat.”

  Bud hovered near the door while I nipped into the Knicelys’ bathroom. I poked about a bit, noted the contents of their medicine cabinet and the toiletries that lay on their countertops, then flushed the loo and ran some water. Given that Nigel had been a pharmaceutical sales rep, and was now still training those who sold drugs, I had been half hoping for a bathroom overflowing with exotic pills, any of which might have been used to kill Tommy Trussler, but my hope for an easy solution to our problem was dashed.

  Reemerging, trying to look suitably refreshed, I said, “Ready when you are.”

  We all trooped out, smiling like old chums, and headed toward the top deck. Once we got there I lingered with Janet, and Bud strode out with Nigel. I was sure he’d do some investigating, and began my own.

  “So, how did you first meet poor Tommy Trussler?” I began.

  Janet Knicely seemed happy enough to chat, though I struggled with having a one-to-one conversation with a woman whose face made all the appropriate expressions, but who never looked at me because she insisted on not properly opening her eyes. It was incredibly disconcerting.

  “I know I told you all about us renewing our vows,” she began, “and how this cruise is like a second honeymoon, but I can’t remember if I told you it was all Nigel’s idea. He’s so good to me. I’ve always wanted to visit Hawai’i. It’s so exotic. No Tom Selleck, though, more’s the pity.” She grinned blindly at me. “We met Tommy on one of those tours around Maui,” she continued. “You know, one of the ones arranged by the ship? We only did those ones. They won’t leave without you, even if you’re late back, you know. But they can just go, sail off without you, if you’re not back onboard in time otherwise. Imagine that? Being stuck with just nothing? I wouldn’t want to risk it. ‘The Maui Experience’ the trip was called. Did you do it?”

  I shook my head. “Bud and I rented a car the first day on Maui and drove the Hana Highway, then the second day we caught the little bus to Kaanapali Beach.”

  “Oh, isn’t that a lovely place?” gushed Janet. “I loved the way that fat grass came all the way down to the sand. It’s all so green everywhere there, and so colorful too, don’t you think? I can’t believe what they manage to grow in their gardens. Even just around their front doors. Houseplants, most of those things are for us. And so clean. Mind you, sometimes it felt a bit too … American. You know, not really Hawaiian.”

  Janet pronounced the word Hawaiian as though it was spelled High-Why-Ann. I didn’t comment. However, I couldn’t resist saying, “But it is America.”

  Janet giggled. “Well, you say that, but it’s not really, is it? I mean, it’s so foreign.”

  Not knowing quite what to say—unusual for me—I said nothing except, “So Tommy was your guide on the trip?”

  Janet shook her head. “No, he was a sort of assistant to the guide. Very helpful. Knew a lot. Did you say you and Bud drove along that really twisty road?”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “We did too, in the bus. Terrifying, wasn’t it? And we went to Hana. Then drove past some pool place.”

  “The pools of Ohe’o?” I asked.

  Janet nodded. “Very nice, but it looked busy there and we didn’t stop, you know, we just went past. I’d had enough by then. It was hot. Not as hot as in Lahaina, of course, but they say it’s a remorselessly sunny place, don’t they?”

  “It was once known as Lele, which means ‘relentless sun,’” I replied patiently. Desperately trying to get the woman back on track, I added, “Did Tommy tell you about that too?”

  Janet nodded. “Yes, that and lots of other stuff. It all got a bit much to take in, to be honest with you. And when he told us what he did here on the boat, we said we’d see him in the Games Room to play cards. I’ve always wanted to learn to play poker. I don’t know why. It just sounded interesting. It turns out it isn’t, but it was nice to mix. Nice man, Tommy. A bit like a bird. Always picking at something. You know, food, cards, that sort of thing.”

  And a lot more too, I thought. I worked hard to focus on what Janet Knicely was saying, rather than how she was saying it; firstly there was the eye thing—her spectacles glinted, but there was nothing behind them except eyelids—and then there was the fact that her accent reminded me of Angus, my dead ex-boyfriend who’d also hailed from Bristol. The burr of the rolled r and the West Country twang has always lulled me into a false sense of security. It’s almost mesmerizing.

  Janet continued to chatter on. “He was patient. Never told me off when I did something wrong with my cards, and I got it in the end. Mind you, I don’t know what all the fuss is about. I can’t understand why people get hooked on it. They do, don’t they? They say it’s the buzz. I didn’t feel any buzz. But then I wasn’t playing for real money. Maybe it’s different then. I think I’m still too slow to play for real in the casino, though I might have a try tonight. Maybe people will be nice t
o me. They all seem very nice here. There’s only tomorrow night left after tonight, and I did say I’d have a go. Maybe to remember poor Tommy I’ll do it.” We’d caught up with Bud and Nigel. “What do you think, Nigel?” said Janet to her husband. “Can I have a go at poker in the casino tonight? I wouldn’t bet much. Maybe ten pounds? Would that be alright?”

  “Yes, dear, perfectly acceptable.” Nigel Knicely didn’t seem to be listening to his wife. “We’re eating at six o’clock, and then I’d like us to see the show, but there’ll be plenty of time after that. Unless you need to get back to the room to finish your knitting, that is.”

  His manner toward his wife was far from warm. His words were polite, but his tone was disdainful.

  Janet seemed oblivious to his dismissive inflection, and replied cheerily, “No need, I’ve been making excellent progress. Our grandson will have lots of little outfits ready for him when he comes. Would you like to see some photos of the family?” Without waiting for me to answer, she whipped a camera out of her backpack and began to show me tiny images on a screen. I pulled my reading cheats from my bag and peered at the photos. Rather unsurprisingly, Janet Knicely had her eyes closed in every one of them. I oohed and aahed in all the right places, I felt, and, after scrolling through dozens of pictures of their completely over-the-top recommitment ceremony, we eventually reached other photos taken in the Hawaiian Islands.

  “Look, there we are in Maui, with Tommy,” she said brightly. “Ah, poor thing.” I perked up immediately, and paid more attention.

  Bud took his cue. “Nigel was telling me about the tour you guys took with Tommy, weren’t you, Nigel?”

  It was like someone had turned on a switch; Nigel Knicely squared his shoulders, and lifted his chin. He looked as though he was going to dive into a deep pool—against his will.