Cruise to Critique (Lucky & Led Cruise Ship Mystery Series Book 5)

by David P. Remy

  “Relax. Now we can show him the damning evidence I found; both the bullet and the rifle.” Led was so pumped up that he could hardly sleep the few hours since his discovery.

  “Right. However, Led, what do they really prove about who did the deed? We’d need to find a good set of fingerprints or something which could provide DNA or whatever it is that detectives are always finding in those TV shows.”

  “Most likely we won’t be blessed with any of that,” Led replied using “blessed” in a pointed way to subtly tease Lucky. But, I have an idea of how the rifle got on board.”

  “What? How would you know that the rifle was on board?”

  “Just a thought.” Led slipped on his flip-flops. “You know that I manage to get my knife through security, right? Led was in high gear, now. Lucky sat back down onto his bed with a thud.

  “I didn’t even know that you did that. Why would you have a knife, anyway, Led?” Lucky found himself in that uncomfortable position of playing parent.

  “It’s one of those multi function knives; it has a thousand uses. I never like to be without it. Anyway, I place it under my belt buckle and sometimes the alarm goes off and sometimes it doesn’t; depends on how high or low the sensitivity setting is calibrated.”

  “So, what if the alarm does go off?”

  “Then, they stop me, wand over the belt buckle and let me go through” Led’s face radiated pride from his ingenuity.

  “That’s just great, Led. So, now, I can worry about the whole security thing.”

  “Stop fussing. It helped me figure how ‘whoever’ got the rifle on board. That’s the upside of the whole telling you about the knife thing.”

  “OK, I got it. So, how did ‘whoever’ do it?” Lucky’s anxiety was going through the cabin roof. “And, oh, by the way, how did you get it on board.”

  “Oh, that was the easy part. But, just wait until we meet with Inspector Mehta. I’ll explain it all then and there.” With that supposed explanation which only added to Lucky’s being soundly confounded, the pair left their cabin and went to their appointment with Chief Inspector Mehta.

  As they reached the outer office of the Security department, a young man dressed in a housekeeping uniform made his way out of Chief Inspector Mehta’s inner office rather briskly, almost running into Lucky and Led.

  Samantha sat on her balcony with her iPad working up the cruise critique story for the Deco Beach Weekly article. Boy, did she have some heavy hitting material. “This story will knock the socks off any competing article that Rex Riddle would ever think of coming up with,” she mused. “And, to think, I have the rights to break the story about the smuggling as soon as they figure it out. I can only see my career going straight up from here.” Samantha’s mind was erupting with creativity. She couldn’t type her story material fast enough.

  Tap, tap. Samantha stopped typing on her iPad. Tap, tap. Yes, that was a knock on her cabin door. Being way out on her balcony, she barely heard it. She closed the cover of her iPad and got up to answer the door.

  “Yes, I’m coming. Just a minute,” she shouted. She needed to do a facial check in the bathroom mirror first, of course. Adjusting her clothing, she went and opened the door.

  “Why, it’s you. Sorry about the way I look, I didn’t expect anyone to call. Especially my boss. Come in Wilbur.”

  “So kind of you, Samantha. I’d like to discuss something with you...something which you will find rather extraordinary, I believe.” Wilbur Conners look flushed, beads of perspiration had formed on his brow.

  “Of course, Wilbur. Please have a seat. Could I offer you a soda or a cold bottle of water from the fridge? You look a bit peaked.”

  “No, nothing right now, Samantha. I just need to discuss something with you, as I already mentioned at the door.” Conners was extremely uneasy. He fidgeted in his chair, not seeming to be able to get comfortable.

  “You see, Samantha...and this may well come as a surprise to you...I am not here because of that cruise critique story competition of yours and Rex Riddle’s.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No, Samantha, I’m here for an entirely different reason. One which I’m sure you never suspected of me.” Conners took out his handkerchief and dabbed his brow.

  “Please, Wilbur...Mr. Conners, you’re starting to scare me, now,” Samantha pressed her back as tightly to the sofa as she possibly could as if that gave her any real protection against the menacing unknown.

  “You see, my young, innocent reporter, some problems in life demand creative solutions. My newspaper business was both the source of the problem and the answer to it. The financials were dismal; the paper was going under. Then, to my good fortune, I had a serendipitous meeting with an employee over at the Dade Professional Temp Agency when I was considering ways to cut costs. She was an especially helpful person on the staff who had more to offer me than temp helpers. It seemed that she needed a way to hand over, shall we put it, some highly sensitive technical material.

  ”Well, then, my dear Samantha, you entered the scenario and added the perfect solution as to how we would get the material smuggled. Your cruise critique story idea was brilliant. The rest, shall we say, is in the process of making history.” Samantha listened in shock. This was surreal. It couldn’t be happening.

  “The best thing for you to do, Samantha, is to remain calm.” As Conners finished his explanation he produced a roll of strapping tape from out of his back pocket.

  Squelching a scream, Samantha was barely able to form the simple question, “What are you going to do with that tape? I don’t understand. What is the matter with you, Wilbur, are you crazy?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Samantha, I really don’t, but I will if you fail to cooperate. I already had to deal rather harshly with a couple of other people who got in my way and would have ruined my plans. I wouldn’t want you to be the third such fatality.”

  Now Samantha became totally freaked out. She felt faint. She was dizzy. Her head was pounding. She wanted to scream but the effort to make that cry for help couldn’t be forced out of her constricted throat. Was this a nightmare? She began to question her sanity. It had to be happening. She closed her eyes like a child would in a fruitless effort to deny the facts.

  The next thing she felt was her mouth being taped closed and her arms being forced behind her back and, then, her wrists being bound together. The horror continued as she felt her ankles being pulled together and taped. She was powerless to react in any effective way; she was overwhelmed with the reality closing in upon her and she succumbed to the terror of her circumstances by passing out on the couch.

  Feeling smugly satisfied, Wilbur Conners went to the phone and made a quick call to another of the ship’s cabins. It only took a few minutes’ wait and he heard a timid knock on Samantha’s door. Wilbur checked to see who it was as he peered through the door’s peephole and confirmed it was the person he wanted to see. He opened the door.

  “Nice that you could stop by, Yolanda.” She stepped into the room, Wilbur closed the door and continued to address her. “Or I think, in these circumstances, now that it is safe, that I can properly call you by your given name. I’m sure you’ll appreciate hearing it after the slight mistaken identity of yesterday’s unfortunate tragedy...wouldn’t you agree, dearest?”

  “I really think you looked better with the slant eyes, Wilbur,” Marsha Stewart quipped. “And yes, I agree. I’m so over being a body snatcher.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Chief Inspector stuck his head out of his office door and motioned for Lucky and Led to enter. Immediately, they read the heavy lines of concern written on Mehta’s face, creating a mask-like effect similar to those used by the Japanese Kabuki play actors. Intimidating.

  “Please sit down. Lots has happened in the last hour. But, first, what is your news? Mehta’s behavior was driven by his professional psyche; he could sense the resolution of this case.

  “Well, Chief Inspector, when I was diving
yesterday, I saw two items drop into the water close to me and Yolanda. One I found at that time, a bullet,” Led placed the bullet on Mehta’s desk. “The bullet which had exited Marsha’s head and sank in the water close to where I was. I was able to follow its path down and retrieved it.”

  Sanjay scrutinized the bullet, sizing it up. This was a new piece of evidence in the case. “And the second item?”

  “This is where it gets a bit confusing. The second item I saw, at first, I thought it was a sand shark. But, after the commotion settled down and I regained my composure, I realized that it wasn’t a sand shark at all, but a rifle.”

  “A rifle!” Mehta sat up in his chair moved by his great expectation of a major find in the case of the first murder.

  “Yes, Inspector. So, when Lucky and I went back over to the island last night, I headed down to the dive shop beach and dived down in that same area we were diving that afternoon. And, I found the rifle.”

  “Thank you, Led. You’ve been a great help with this information. The bullet is a new piece of evidence; the rifle is not.”

  “Not? Why so, Inspector?” Lucky was confused.

  “Well, it appears that Led turned over the rifle to one of my security personnel manning the tender boat shuttle and he notified me, at once,” Sanjay explained.

  “You turned over the rifle, Led?” Lucky was doubly confused.

  “I was so exhausted last night, I forgot to mention that factoid,” Led responded sheepishly.

  “Factoid, indeed!” Lucky was miffed, now.

  “No problem, Lucky. Led did the right thing,” Mehta interjected. “For once,” he smiled.

  “You said that you had lots happening, also, Chief Inspector,” Lucky re-focused the conversation.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. I just had a visit from one of the room attendants; actually, the one who serviced Mr. Randy Barrow’s cabin. Since he knew of his guest’s death, he thought it wise to tell me about an incident on the first day of the cruise. He had been cleaning Mr. Barrow’s room and went down the hall to fetch some cleaning materials when Barrow confronted him about taking a package. Of course, the room attendant denied it since he hadn’t taken anything from the room. But, it was obvious to him that something had been taken as Mr. Barrow was infuriated over the possibility. Now, of course, we know that it was the package which we have ID’ed as chocolate cover cherries.”

  “So, Barrow was the smuggler,” Lucky commented.

  “Not so fast, Father Lucky,” Mehta responded. “I think that Barrow had a package, alright, but it was borrowed by someone when his cabin door was left open.”

  “And, do you know who borrowed it,” Lucky was loving this.

  “Actually, it was borrowed by the same person who slipped it into George Cromwell’s bag of groceries during the meeting in that building with the so called Asian character.”

  “So called?” Once again Lucky’s inquisitive nature came to the fore.

  “The building was dark and shadowy as George recounted the story, so it wouldn’t be too far fetched to conclude that the Asian fellow had a temporary facial adjustment made to make him appear to be Asian. Slanted eyes would all that would be necessary for most of us to conclude that a person was of Asian descent, right?”

  “But, why didn’t this Asian guy just take the package with him? Seems like an unnecessary ploy to use.”

  “Not if you wanted to throw off the two other guys who thought that they were delivering the real package. This is where it gets interesting. As I worked it through in my mind, the two guys who thought that they were in possession of the real package to smuggle, actually had been duped into stealing a package switched for the real one and replaced in the hiding spot inside the bottom plate of the coffee table in Barrow’s room.

  “Barrow was correct about someone stealing his package, but what he didn’t realize is that the package was, in actuality, switched and stolen twice: first by the soon to be met Asian guy, as it happens, our very Western guy, Wilbur Conners, and then, shortly after, by the two mugs who showed up at the meeting inside the building.

  As I reconstruct the scenario, Randy's room attendant had left the cabin door open when he went to fetch supplies and offered the golden opportunity to the cabin invasions. Neither Wilbur or the twosome knew that the other had the same idea. Just one of those odd coincidences; timing is everything. Got all that?” Sanjay smiled broadly feeling his self satisfaction.

  “Excellent, Inspector. Very cool,” Led approved. “But, another question. I thought that you said that George Cromwell wasn’t involved with this affair, after all. He came to the meeting with the Asian guy, right? That sure makes him look guilty to my way of thinking.” Led was trying to get his mind around the “who done it”.

  “Good point, Led. But, if I'm correct in my analysis, they most likely came separately to the building. The Asian guy, and I can add, the same person who made the phone call, now disguised as an Asian guy, was waiting for George to show up. He coordinated the entry together making it appear to the guys from the ship, Jiggers Malone and Benny Tallman, who were handing over the package, that they were teamed up in the operation. Our Asian guy was none other than Wilbur Conners simply applying a bit of theatrical makeup.”

  Inspector Mehta’s phone rang, startling everyone in the office. After listening intently for a about a minute, Sanjay responded very directly and ordered, "Then, get back here before the ship sails and bring those candy boxes with you. Don’t miss the ship." He hung up the phone with more gusto than was necessary.

  "Those were the two agents. There is no lab on the island that is capable of doing the required analysis on that candy. So, they're returning with the chocolates and their plan is to to take it back to the States where they have a facility that’s able to test it.

  ”And, one ‘Oh, by the way’, they received a rather significant report from the coroner. The body of the lady murdered at the dive shop beach, and this should be of special interest to you, Led, I’m sorry to convey...that person you attempted to save wasn't Marsha Stewart...it now appears that it was a MissYolanda Reiff.

  If Led had been on the edge of a cliff, you could have pushed him over with a feather. Yee, gads, what a shocker. His head was swimming with a thousand and one questions.

  “I simply don’t understand how that could be possible, Inspector,” Led declared. They were the first words he could force out of his mouth. “I mean, I was diving with Yolanda; I tried to save Marsha. This is preposterous. I just can’t accept it.” Led kept shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Quite a shocker for all of us, Led. But, there is probably a good explanation for the mix up. When we dig deeper into this case, all will become more rational. You’ll see. For now we just need to proceed in our investigation,” Sanjay offered his homily in hopes of calming Led.

  “And, Led, as far as the rifle is concerned that you found, I have it over there in my closet...loaded...so we can possibly match this bullet that you found with the rifle.” Sanjay fingered the bullet on his desk.

  “Chief Inspector, I’m totally confused on the mix up between Yolanda and Marsha,” Lucky interjected. “I met them both. They did have a striking similarity; one could have guessed them for twins, possibly, if you weren’t too familiar with them. I could see, in these circumstances how one could mix them up...but Led was with both of them...how could he have mistaken one for the other? This is too eerie.”

  As Lucky was finishing up his objections to the reality of the facts, Sanjay’s assistant security agent stuck his head around the office door. “There’s a phone call for you, Chief Inspector. The Captain is on the line.”

  Sanjay grabbed the phone. “Yes, Captain?”

  “Sanjay, we have a situation on our hands. I just got off the phone with a Mr. Wilbur Conners, our editor of that weekly rag in Miami, you know, the guest I had at my dinner party. He’s making demands for his safe exiting of the ship with another person, a Miss Marsha Stewart. I don’t know how we
can stop him. He’s holding a hostage in the cabin...a Miss Samantha Simmons.”

  The last tender boat shuttle reached the ship bearing the two CIA agents and the usual small cadre of last minute diehard day trippers. The deck hands were making the standard preparations to retrieve the boats with the davits and secure the ship for the sail away. This all came to an immediate halt when the hotel director himself came onto the scene and ordered the suspension of preparations.

  Behind the façade of calm and all things per usual, there was a chaotic rush to address this latest of a series of misadventures on this, what was supposed to be, routine weekend cruise. The Chief Inspector, of course, was spearheading the operation. He had rushed out of his office following the Captain’s phone message, leaving Lucky and Led sitting there, filled with the confusion which the last few hours had served up.

  Outside of the office, things were heating up. Sanjay and his security team, now with the addition of the two CIA agents, had discovered the cabin in which Conners was holding Samantha captive to guarantee his demands being met. At the moment, it was a typical stand off. No visible headway was being made. Sanjay was at wits end over what the next step should be.

  The two way radio communication center was outside of Sanjay’s office and afforded Lucky and Led with up to the minute information on the progress, or in this instance, the lack thereof, of the hostage situation. Led’s ears were glued to every word being relayed back and forth between the Chief Inspector, his cohorts and the Captain.

  Led heard one significant fact: the cabin had a balcony and from the personnel stationed in a tender boat, floating a ways out in the water, now patrolling the ship, the sliding glass doors were open. This motivated Led to come up with a daring plan. Well, it would seem daring to everyone else, but it would just be the usual manner of solving a problem to Led. He would shoot Wilbur Conners.

  First, there was one step that had to be taken. Led needed to free himself from Lucky’s too close supervision. “Lucky, I think that you should see if the Chief Inspector needs you for anything.”