by Cathy Ace
“Poor Tommy, yes. We had an interesting day with him, didn’t we Janet?” His wife nodded, and continued to click through photographs. “We joined the bus, along with our fellow guests, just yards beyond where we alighted from our tender boat, in Lahaina, Maui. I’m sure you know the place—hard to miss it, really, with dozens of coaches lined up just waiting for us all to get into them and be whisked away. We like to be on time. For us, ten minutes early is half an hour late, so we were first onto the vehicle and we sat at the front, with Tommy across the aisle from us. We chatted the whole time. And chat he did. Neither Janet nor I managed to get much of a word in sideways, did we, dear?”
I found it hard to imagine that Janet Knicely wouldn’t eventually be able to dominate any conversation with her fussy nattering, but she nodded her agreement with her husband. Listening to Nigel, and seeing Janet’s endless photographs, I couldn’t help but compare the Knicelys with the Croppers. The British woman was dressed in another beige ensemble and her husband sported a hideous mixture of lime green and powder blue, whereas the Tennessee couple weren’t just more wealthy, but more classy too—in their dress, their lifestyle, and their personalities. I couldn’t imagine either of the Knicelys heartily enjoying an afternoon drink, no matter how well padded their bank accounts might become. They just didn’t seem the type.
Nigel Knicely seemed to be running on autopilot. As he related the trip he and his wife had enjoyed with Tommy, he said all the right words about the lushness of the Iao Valley, about how they’d been alarmed, then fascinated by, the ability of the men who husked coconuts; he even spoke about the beauty of the tropical gardens they’d been to, but underneath it all was … what was it? He’s selling me something—that’s it! But why?
“You sound as though you had a good trip,” observed Bud. I wondered if he’d been taken in by Nigel’s technique, but I needn’t have worried. What Bud said next spoke volumes: “I wonder how such a good beginning ended up with you not liking Tommy very much.”
“Nigel didn’t not like Tommy,” said Janet, a little confusingly.
I knew Bud had something up his sleeve. He continued. “When Tommy and I were playing gin rummy this morning, he mentioned that Nigel and he had had a little falling out. Over something to do with a drinks recommendation?” Good job, Bud.
The robotic Nigel spat, “Stupid man offered to buy us a drink at the little bar where we stopped for lunch on the trip. Of course I refused. He was acting as a guide; there were two of us and only one of him, so I insisted we bought him one instead. Only polite. He ordered a really expensive one, whereas Janet and I just had a bottle of water each. I tried to hide that I was a bit cross. One doesn’t like to speak of money, of course, but, well, there you are. I didn’t dislike the man, I just thought he made a selfish decision on that one occasion, which maybe meant I was a little more guarded around him.”
“Oh Nigel—you never said,” Janet said, sounding surprised. “Oh dear, I hope it wasn’t an expensive drink like the ones they have here in that bar that are all frozen, and they have those things that have herbs in them and they froth and foam and stuff. Did you know that some of those drinks are twenty dollars? Each!” She’d turned her attention to me as she finished, so I nodded. “I can’t imagine why anyone would drink them. I’d be afraid I wouldn’t like it, or I’d spill it,” she concluded.
“No need to worry, dear,” replied Nigel, who seemed to be reverting to his original, inanimate self. “We’re on holiday, after all.”
“And what a place for it,” I said. “Your second honeymoon. Janet’s been showing me all your photos. You’ve been fortunate to have had thirty years together.”
“Haven’t we,” replied Nigel with an unexpected burst of positivity. His voice took on a surprising warmth. Now that he’d ceased his robotic recitation of what amounted to no more than a tourism brochure’s copy, he sounded, and looked, genuinely enthusiastic. He was glowing as he said, “It was a lovely ceremony, renewing our vows. Not like the first one in church with dozens of guests, but just the two of us. The children would have liked to have come, but of course, it was all very expensive. Hawai’i is such a long way from Bristol. You cannot beat a wedding, but the vow renewal ceremony was almost as good. We did the whole thing, didn’t we, dear? Cake, fancy outfits, wonderful music. We even danced to the Hawaiian Wedding Song afterward. People made such a fuss of us, didn’t they? It was like being famous for a little while. The photographer was very good, and we got the whole thing filmed. They’re going to edit it all in professional studios, then add some music, and we’ll be able to show it to everyone back home. It was quite magical.”
Nigel Knicely’s entire person was suffused with passion and energy. The man was completely transformed. Odd.
Janet hung on her husband’s every word, glowing alongside him.
“How romantic,” I said.
“Oh yes, he’s good at romance, is Nigel,” said Janet blushing. Really?
“Will you fly home from Vancouver when we dock, or will you spend some time there too? You know, extend the celebration?” asked Bud.
“We don’t travel a lot,” said Janet, “and we were a bit nervous about getting from the ship to the airport, so we’re taking one of the tours of Vancouver that ends up at the airport. They’ll take our luggage from the ship to the plane, and check us in and everything. It’ll be lovely, won’t it? Much easier for us, Nigel? And we get to see another place without having to leave the bus.”
Nigel’s response of a fairly sullen, “Yes dear,” signified to me that the romantic, enthusiastic Nigel had crawled back into his shell. Very odd.
I realized that Janet was still showing me photographs, and I spotted the white colonial-style architecture of the historic Moana Surfrider Hotel.
“Did you like the hotel?” I asked.
Janet looked shocked. “Yes, but I didn’t like the whole place. Waikiki. It’s very busy, isn’t it? Nice sands, but big waves. Dangerous, I should think.”
I stopped myself from saying it was the big waves that had made Waikiki world famous for surfing, because I didn’t want to sound glib, so I satisfied myself with, “That’s a very nice bracelet you’re wearing in all the photos, Janet. It’s a real pop of color.” Given that she was wearing a mixture of various shades of beige in almost every shot, including the vow renewal ceremony, a red bracelet rather stood out.
Janet pouted. “I know. It was my favorite one. I’ve had it for years, but it broke a couple of days ago, didn’t it Nigel?”
Awakened from his stupor, Nigel replied quietly, “Yes, dear, it did. Shame.” The loss of the bracelet didn’t seem to have impacted Nigel at all.
“You found beads all over the floor, didn’t you?” continued Janet. “Did his best to pick them all up before the cleaning man came in the next morning. He’s put everything he could find in a little bag. I might be able to get it fixed when we get home.”
“I cannot imagine it’s worth bothering with,” said Nigel in a sullen voice. “It’s a mere trinket. Worthless.”
“But it was a gift, a special gift, from Leslie. You know that.” Coming close to me, she added, “Poor Leslie—she’s gone now. Breast cancer. Over a year ago. That’s why it was special. She used to do some shifts with me at the charity shop, and she gave me the bracelet as a memento of our time together, when she had to stop working.”
A little bell rang inside my head, and I asked Janet if I could take a closer look at her photos. She was delighted. Unfortunately, because the camera wasn’t a new model, I couldn’t enlarge the parts of the photo that showed the bracelet. My mind whirred. “I tell you what, I’m not bad with craft projects. How about I see if I can reconstruct your bracelet for you?”
Janet looked delighted, Nigel uncomfortable, and Bud utterly astonished.
“There’s really no need,” said Nigel, but I allowed Janet’s “Thanks!” to win the day. I ignored Bud looking at me as though I’d lost my mind.
“If we could head
back to your stateroom now and get the bits you have left, that would be great. Bud and I need a fair bit of time to get ready for tonight.”
Janet looked up at a ship’s clock we were passing, as we continued to wander the lap-walk on the topmost deck while enjoying the stiff breeze. “It’s getting on, Nigel, and I could do with a bit longer to get dressed and so forth before dinner.” Looking at me, seeking reassurance, she added, “You’re wearing long?”
I nodded. Janet looked relieved. “Me too. I thought you had to, but two ladies at our table wore short dresses on the first formal night, and I felt a bit overdone. I hope they dress up a bit more tonight.”
“I was astonished that I was the only one in a proper dinner jacket at our table, and I wore a hand-tied bowtie,” moaned Nigel. He winked at Bud. “Nifty little number. Very appropriate for here. I picked it up at a place at that pink hotel on the seafront there, in Waikiki. The Royal Hawaiian, I believe?” Bud nodded, since Nigel was addressing only him. “Newt’s, it was called. Lot of hats. Stupid name. Pretty wide selection they had there, and I thought I’d treat myself to a floral tie and cummerbund set. I must admit, I’ll probably never wear it after tonight. Certainly not the done thing back home. Best to stick to black there. The number of men who wear their cummerbunds upside down on this ship is quite amazing, you know. They were called ‘crumb catchers’ for a reason.” With that, he headed off toward the doors, which would take him back to the elevators.
Janet and I hurried after him, and Bud trailed behind, shaking his head.
Stateroom 8221, Forward
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, AS BUD and I sat on the sofa in our own stateroom, Bud phoned Ezra.
“He’ll be here in five minutes,” said Bud, replacing the handset. “So tell me, what on earth is all this business with the bracelet? You’re no good at crafts of any sort. What did we have to bring those beads here for?”
“I think they’re significant.”
“You think? You mean you’re not certain?”
I smiled. “Yes. I quite readily admit that I don’t know everything. I think I know about these beads, but, like I said, I wanted to get my hands on them so I could check.”
“And?”
“They are what I thought they might be.”
“Which is?”
A knock at the door interrupted us. Bud invited Ezra inside. After entering, he sat down on the edge of the desk chair. He looked drawn.
“How’s it going?” ventured Bud.
“Good and bad,” replied Ezra. “Good in that I have interviewed everyone who was in the Games Room at the time of Tommy Trussler’s death, and have now been given a good deal more information about Tommy Trussler. But some of that is bad news.”
“Worse than that he’s dead?” I’d meant to just think it.
Ezra shrugged. “In a way. For the Stellar Cruise Line, in any case. And possibly for me. The captain is beside himself, with good reason.”
Bud and I waited. I couldn’t imagine what Ezra was going to tell us.
“Tommy Trussler was a decorated war hero. Purple Heart. Silver Star. He pulled members of his unit from a burning vehicle during Desert Storm, despite being wounded himself. I suppose that’s what happened to his leg. The man in the refrigerated unit on Deck 2 is an honest-to-goodness war hero and he died on my ship, on my watch. Not that it should matter that he was a war hero, but it will.”
I felt terribly sorry for Ezra. “The death of anyone before their time, because somebody wants it so, is a tragedy,” I said softly. “Justice needs to be served. And I know that both Bud and I feel strongly about seeking justice for Tommy Trussler simply because he was a fellow human being—no matter his station in life, his being a criminal or a hero. However, I can see this is a public relations nightmare waiting to happen.”
Ezra nodded. “Let’s just say the captain is even more insistent that I ‘get to the bottom of it,’ as he put it. And fast. My job, my entire career, could be on the line. The company will need someone to blame, and if it all becomes high profile—which it will in the case of a murdered hero who pickpocketed our guests while working for the company—then they’ll need to make a public announcement of my termination.”
I understood why Ezra was so angry and upset. “We’ll do our best to help you solve this,” I said.
“I hope it’s good enough,” replied Ezra.
“So, did someone poison him because he was a war hero, or in spite of that? Did they poison him because he was a pickpocket, or in spite of that?” I said.
“Or did someone poison the man for a completely unknown reason?” added Bud.
“I don’t know,” said Ezra shaking his head.
“Then let’s find out,” said Bud. “We’re a team, Ezra. Is there anything else you can tell us? For example, if you’ve interviewed everyone, is everybody who they say they are?”
I shouldn’t have been so surprised that Bud had asked such a basic question. It served a dual purpose; Ezra focused on the case, and he seemed a lot calmer.
Squaring his shoulders, Ezra said, “Everyone checks out. They’re all who they say they are. I spoke with the Croppers—they saw nothing, they know nothing, they hardly knew Tommy. Same with the Knicelys, though it took me longer to find out. Frannie Lang seems to have spent a fair amount of time with Tommy in Hilo, but wasn’t able to tell me anything about the man. I’ve interviewed Kai Pukui, who didn’t mix with Tommy at all, it seems. I have yet to speak to the server Afrim. That, and the background I’ve just given you on Tommy, is all I have so far. I have the Hawai’i Police Department tackling Tommy’s home in Honolulu right now, and they have promised to report to me as soon as possible. What about you two? Anything in the Games Room?”
Bud cleared his throat rather dramatically. “We found some unexplained coffee grounds and a white substance on the carpet. Bartholomew removed some of the white powder so it could be tested,” he offered, “and we happened to run into the Croppers and the Knicelys, didn’t we, Cait?”
Ezra looked dismayed. “Procedures. You promised you would follow them,” he said, his low voice sounding angry.
Bud sighed. “You know what, Ezra, I understand how tough this is for you. Believe me, I’ve been in your shoes often enough to appreciate the pressure you’re feeling right now. But although Cait colors outside the lines sometimes, she usually turns up something useful, don’t you, Cait?”
Bud was throwing me the chance to make our findings clear to Ezra, so I decided to do just that. I reached over, squeezed my husband’s large, tanned hand and smiled. “You’re right, Bud, I do. So, Ezra, let’s address the Croppers first. They’ve got a lot of money, and they worked hard for it. They seem a pretty well-balanced couple, focused on each other and enjoying their hard-earned wealth. I believe they’ve had a lot of money for quite a while—they’re both used to service, and they know what they want and how to get it politely, without a fuss. That means they’ve been receiving high-end services for some time. They both like a drink, he’s good at taking risks, and I believe she manages and grounds that tendency in him. I got the impression they were both telling the truth about their encounters with the victim, largely speaking, though Laurie omitted telling you that she met Tommy at a luau in Honolulu, where she certainly had a chance to learn of his penchant for poi. I suspect some sort of precipitating event led Laurie Cropper to mistrust Tommy, and I believe that Derek knows about it, whatever it might be. I believe she must have told him about it directly, because Derek Cropper doesn’t always ‘tune in’ to what his wife’s saying. He seems distracted by—something. The Knicelys are another matter. She’s focused on home life, but he’s been on the road selling and is distant from his wife. Initially I suspected that she pushed for them to renew their vows to reassure herself that he still loves her, but the way Nigel spoke about the ceremony, and how much he enjoyed the whole process, has made me question that. He was transformed as he spoke about their experiences. His wife seems to be sure that his attitude reflect
s a romantic nature, though I’m not as convinced. He, too, is in his own little world sometimes, and again doesn’t ‘tune in’ to his wife. I’m hoping that’s not a trend I see being repeated in our marriage.”
“What’s that?” Bud retorted with a grin.
I smiled sweetly. “Very funny, Husband,” I said, punching him gently on the arm.
“So?” said Ezra pointedly.
“I also discovered that both couples had access to enough poison to kill Tommy, and had the opportunity to do so without having to work hard at it.”
Both Bud and Ezra looked curious.
“My only problem is I don’t know why they might do it,” I continued. “And I cannot work out how anyone removed the poi pot from the Games Room.”
“I beg your pardon?” Ezra sounded cross.
“We’ve agreed that anyone in the Games Room this morning had the chance to put poison in Tommy’s poi, and that it was the only thing in the room that he alone ate. We’ve also agreed that the only person who would have removed the poi pot from the room must have known about the poison. But no one could have secreted such a large object about their person without it being obvious. Now, when it comes to sources of poison, the Croppers have access to more than lethal quantities of liquid nicotine, and the Knicelys had these.” I held the little clear plastic bag of beads toward Ezra for him to see.
“And these are?” he asked.
“They are called rosary peas, among other names. When Janet Knicely told me she’d been given this bracelet by a friend connected with a charity shop, I remembered a story I’d once read about potentially lethal bracelets being sold as fundraisers a few years ago. They were recalled, but I can’t imagine Janet Knicely either knowing about that, or even caring. The bracelet was an important item to her.”
Ezra stood, frustrated.
“I find this hard to believe. That this is true, or that you happen to know about it,” he said bluntly. “You seem to know a great deal about a wide variety of topics.”
