Murder at Sea of Passenger X Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #5 (Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Series)

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “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.

  “Sorry, Georgie. That was more than rude. Are you mad at me?”

  “A little if you consider me the sort of woman who would fall for any of that baloney. I recognize fake charm when I see it.”

  “It’s not that. I just couldn’t stand the way the guy was ogling you—and with me standing right there. He’s like a male version of Jennifer’s tacky friend, Caroline Chambers.”

  I paused for a moment recalling how annoyed I had become when she fawned over Jack the night we met her at a restaurant in Corsario Cove.

  “I know what you mean. Caroline was working it that night. She had an excuse, at least, since we weren’t even officially a couple at the time. It’s that blond, blue-eyed Romeo-wannabe who was rude.” I shuddered a little. “There’s something about him that makes me want to go wash that hand he just kissed. Why can’t Gerard see that, Jack?”

  Jack tucked my arm around his and moved us along. “Gerard hasn’t been as fortunate as we have been to find true love and trustworthy friends, I guess.”

  “Maybe he needs our help. I know Paolo has an alibi, and I’m sure the cruise line checked him out before they hired him, but don’t you have someone who can snoop and see if he’s got a criminal history of some kind?”

  “Not officially.” Jack stopped speaking for a moment, perhaps considering what options he had given my concerns about Paolo.

  “I know, I know. Paolo's not a suspect,” I said.

  What about snooping into Paolo's past, unofficially? I wondered. The image of Carol, my talented and resourceful administrative assistant, popped into my head. She likes Gerard and would want to help if she thought he was in trouble.

  Since the Marvelous Marley World cruise line had hired Paolo, it might not be as simple for her to access his records. Not as simple as it would have been if we had employed him in the Food and Beverage Division, but not impossible either. It was still early enough to contact her. I was pondering the issue when I realized Jack had started speaking again.

  “You can’t even hold those blond hairs against him any longer. It’s not just that he’s no peroxide blond like the owner of those stray hairs. Maggie called me to say the ones she found in Abby Kinkaid’s locker are a match to those already in evidence. They're Abby's, not Paolo's.”

  “Is that what's going on? Are we headed to the infirmary to meet with Maggie about evidence she picked up at the spa?” I had a sinking feeling that I was asking a ridiculous question even as the words came out of my mouth.

  “We’re meeting Maggie—and Bill. Not in the infirmary, but in Abby Kinkaid’s cabin on Deck 6. Once Maggie had that match, she called Bill. As soon as he could do it, he took a team to Abby's cabin hoping to speak to her.”

  That sinking feeling worsened as the door to an elevator taking us back to Deck 6, for the second time today, slid open. Right before we stepped into it, my phone beeped. Jack held the door open while I checked my phone.

  It was a text message from Max. My skin crawled even more than it had done when Paolo kissed my hand.

  ON A STOPOVER IN HONOLULU. EXPECT YOU TO UPDATE ME ON THE INVESTIGATION BEFORE WE TAKE OFF. I NEED ANSWERS! MAX

  Jack took one look at my face. “Max?”

  “Yep. There’s something very wrong about dealing with your boss on your honeymoon,” I groused as I tried to avoid looking at that grinning Olly-Olly Octopus hovering above us. “Max needs answers, Jack.”

  “Don’t we all,” Jack said, pulling me into his arms as that elevator door shut behind us. Jack’s kiss was the answer to all my questions, including why not run for it while we still could?

  Imagine fantasizing about an escape from a cruise to the South Sea Islands? I thought. I even chuckled when I shared that idea with Jack. As we stepped from that elevator, my laughter fled.

  “Please tell me you’re not taking your one-week-wife to another murder scene on her honeymoon,” I pleaded as we strode down the corridor to Abby Kinkaid’s cabin.

  “I can’t say that for sure,” Jack said. “You can wait out here in the hall if you’d prefer.

  “With a knife-wielding, killer who has struck more than once already? No way!” I said as Jack knocked and the cabin door swung open. I gasped.

  11 Cabin Fever

  Abby Kinkaid’s cabin was a disaster. Either a fight had broken out or someone had demolished it during a search, or both. Blood on the mattress, now lying on the floor, suggested Abby or someone else might be injured.

  “It’s a mess, but there’s no body,” Maggie said as we stepped into the small stateroom and shut the door behind us. Bill snapped photos of the wreckage in that room. Items were upended, drawers removed from the dressers. Someone had tossed mirrors and pictures on the floor. Some lay on top of the mattress shoved off the bed. Both the mattress and box springs had been sliced open.

  Thank goodness we had taken a moment to leave those beautiful take-out boxes Gerard had prepared for us with the concierge. The butler assigned to our suite would pick them up and stash them in our suite. They didn’t belong anywhere near the noxious fever that had possessed whoever destroyed this cabin. Jack handed me his dinner jacket.

  After that, Jack went into action, helping Maggie collect prints from surfaces in the room using a makeshift kit he had created. He and Maggie did their best to pick through items without moving them around much, at least until Bill snapped a photo. They searched as systematically as they could in the debris, for clues as t
o who might have been responsible for the carnage.

  Maggie swabbed the blood on the wall behind the bed and collected a small swatch of cloth from the mattress where blood drops had fallen.

  "Nothing like the amount of blood we found this morning. Maybe the person angry enough to do this got careless. See?" She asked. "There's blood on the glass from this broken lamp. Careless," Maggie muttered, repeating herself as she placed shards of blood-smeared glass into a baggie.

  "Careless works for me," Jack said. "More of a chance that we'll nab whoever did this."

  Maggie and Jack picked up a few hairs from bedclothes and pillows on the floor. More blond hairs, but several that were darker.

  “Tina’s?” I asked.

  “The longer ones, maybe, but we have a couple short enough that they could belong to a man,” Jack responded.

  “If we’re lucky, Abby yanked them out by the roots, and we’ll get the follicles, too,” Bill commented.

  Ick, I thought. I got his point, but it was still gross. I felt almost claustrophobic as I tried to stay in a corner, out of the way. I did not want to get the powder they were using to dust for prints on my dress. Nor did I relish the idea of bumping into something that had blood on it, although the colorful floral print might provide camouflage if I did.

  At least it was cool in this air-conditioned cabin. Unlike that murder scene out in the open air, this room could be left much as it was when we found it. There was less risk that the biological evidence would degrade fast, as it had done outside.

  “Tropical heat, even in January, isn’t helpful to crime scene preservation,” Jack had said when we were back in our suite dressing for dinner.