We were on our way to the supper club when Amy and William met us in the atrium. “What have you two been up to?” Suzy asked.
Amy muttered something about finishing Mambo lessons and William having to meet with the Captain.
“Did you say the Captain?” I asked.
William nodded. “Captain Benedict and I are old friends. He may come by our table tonight at the Supper Club. When I mentioned the Thursday Club girls, he was most intrigued. He said that he wanted to meet all of you.”
The New York Supper Club offered even more sumptuous fare than Bugsy’s. I was deciding between lobster fettuccine and shrimp creole when William ventured, “Are any of you planning on going into St. Kitts tomorrow? I could be a tour guide if you like. St. Kitts is a very old part of the Caribbean, but it has only been in the past few years that they have allowed cruise ships to dock. Basseterre is the capital and it has a beautiful center of town called the Circus named after Piccadilly Circus in London. Also there’s a most unusual clock as its centerpiece. There are some shopping options for high end jewelry, watches, and couture. However, most of St. Kitts’ beauty lies in its architecture and the cultural arts of the people. When you look at a map, you can see St. Kitts and its sister, Nevis, are really just a chain of volcanic mountains.”
“Sounds like an adventure,” Amy said. “I’m in.” The rest of us agreed.
“Wonderful, we don’t dock until noon so how about we meet at the bottom of the gangway around 1:00 p.m.? That will give us three to four hours which should be more than enough time.”
With plans set, we only had to recount our adventures of the day and concentrate on the fortunes we hoped to win at the casino’s Midnight Madness. I took a stroll on deck in the moonlight. The constant lap of the sea created a perfect picture for romance. I missed Tom and wondered how he was getting along in New York. Tomorrow in St. Kitts I would locate a café with Wi-Fi and find out myself.
Amy and William were like teenagers having their first crush. I really hoped that William was what he seemed. He was so well read and knowledgeable on every subject we mentioned. He was ‘too good to be true.’ As that thought sunk in, I shook away the chill that shimmied down my spine.
The Mambo dancing was both memorable and entertaining. Amy kept up with William’s gentle rhythms. He knew she was recuperating and was extremely considerate. Hattie heckled from the sidelines. Suzy and Clara danced with other passengers we met at the Cruise Critic meeting. I had offers but declined them all. I preferred to watch the others having fun.
After a wonderful repast, the group stormed the casino with Hattie leading the pack. Everyone in the casino greeted Hattie. She relished that recognition and encouraged their friendship. It was only the 2nd day and she knew dozens of crew members, their names, what country they were from, snippets about their families, and how many years they had been at sea. “Harry” aka Mr. Harrison, the Casino Host, gave Hattie a premier seat at the blackjack table. He made sure she had Perrier and the attention of the servers. Harry found the rest of us openings at the slot machines or video poker.
Suzie stayed with Hattie at the blackjack table to monitor her spending. Amy and William sat at adjoining video poker machines. After an hour of losing at Deuces Wild, I told the others that I was going back to the cabin.
To my surprise Amy, Suzy, Clara, and even Hattie agreed to call it a night. We said good night to William in the casino. He smiled and kissed Amy’s hand. I never dreamed that it would be the last time we would see him.
~3~
The next morning I woke first and enjoyed my coffee on the balcony watching the goats play on the hillside at St. Kitts harbor. It reminded me of the allegory ‘Hinds Feet on High Places’ that our women’s group had just studied. It was amazing how the goats could stand on such rocky, uneven surfaces and graze on the hillside. The allegory compared our faith to climbing rocky terrains. At first it is difficult, but when we realize we are not alone it becomes easier.
To the left I watched the sailboats in the distance sharing the horizon with skiffs and water taxis. I celebrated my favorite part of the day when everyone else was still asleep.
I wondered how the interim pastor at First Church was working out with Tom still in New York City. I prayed the congregation treated him well. He was a senior at Seminary with no real experience. I prayed for our family, friends, and for God’s angels to keep us safe.
When the girls began to bustle, we showered, dressed, ate a quick brunch, and disembarked on the Deck 4 gangway as instructed. William wasn’t there so we waited. After a bit Amy called his cell phone; it went directly to voice mail. She left a message and we waited a bit longer. Suzy called his cabin phone. We waited some more.
Finally I said, “It’s obvious William has been called away. So, let’s go explore on our own.”
The announcement to disembark explained that we were docked at the capital of Basseterre, adjoining Frigate Bay, just like William had said. We explored the old cathedral of St. George, took snapshots of the famous clock, and bought a few contraband Cuban cigars for friends back home. While the others shopped, I managed to find a café with Wi-Fi and emailed Tom. We were able to chat live for a few minutes and he was thrilled with NYC. I didn’t tell him our news.
Taxis offered to take us to Romney Manor, Thomas Jefferson’s grandfather’s plantation. As much as I wanted to go to the manor, a glance at my watch showed that we needed to be aboard within 30 minutes. We were still wondering about William when we got back to the cabin. There were no messages.
We dressed for dinner. It was the quietest our room had even been. Tonight was steak and lobster night at the Oceans Away restaurant. Their famous iron chef had been featured on all of the cooking shows. It was the most exclusive premier eating place on the entire ship. For the occasion, I chose a sapphire blue silk spaghetti strap dress with the sapphires Tom gave me for our anniversary. Suzy and Amy kept to neutral shades of pants suits with eye catching jewelry. I suspect the gemstones were real. Clara went for a navy off the shoulder dress, daring and quite provocative. Clara was very attractive. It made me wonder why she never married.
Hattie was a bit down since she didn’t win a jackpot at Midnight Madness. We consoled her by pointing out that there were a lot of other casino nights. She chose a lavender pill box hat with beige evening pants and a lavender print silk blouse. We promised to play canasta after dinner and that seemed to perk her up. Amy was in low spirits but she tried to hide it. I hated to see her like this. William had lifted her spirits so much that she was even talking about writing again.
Our table was waiting with champagne on ice. A note from the Captain said he would join us for a drink. Still no William.
“Basseterre was quite beautiful in a baroque sort of way,” Clara broke the ice. You could almost hear those journalistic wheels turning.
“Yes, it was but it was also kind of sad. Didn’t you think?” Suzy ventured.
“I suppose but that café in the old slave quarters was advertised to be the best food on the island,” I agreed.
Captain Benedict joined us after dinner for a champagne toast. We asked after William, but the captain showed no recognition of his name. Dinner was exquisite although extremely quiet. We went to the pool for drinks but after observing others attempt the limbo, we decided to be spectators instead of participants. Gentle breezes off the ocean were a perfect blend of warmth and the scent of flowers.
Tomorrow our exploits would take us to the port of St. Martin or Ste. Maarten if you prefer the Dutch spelling. We had been schooled on the “approved” shops and dutifully warned about pickpockets, beggars, and those in the straw market who might be a little over zealous. William’s mysterious disappearance continued to be a touchy subject.
We agreed on an early night to save our energies for St. Martin. Before turning off her bedside light, Amy placed a call on her cell phone. I guessed it was another call to William, but of course I couldn’t be sure.
Hattie and
Suzie put on their noise cancelling ear phones and sleep masks. Clara was deep into her novel, so I was the only one paying attention. What possibly happened that William appeared suddenly, lied about knowing the captain, and then disappeared after making plans to meet with us?
I went to sleep thinking about the on line chat I had with Tom via Wi-Fi. He toured the Empire State Building and was schedule for the Ellis Island cruise. He and the publishing company had come to terms and his book would be on book shelves by Easter. He sounded elated. I assured him that we were also having a wonderful time. I never mentioned William. Tom would only worry. Still I would love to have his opinion on this entire matter. Tom would know the wise course of action to take.
Not only that but I overheard crew member say the words ‘operation bright star’ and something about a star rising. Tomorrow I planned to visit the library and find out what those nautical terms meant.
~4~
“Room service.”
I grabbed a robe and let the server in.
“Just put it on the counter, please. Thank you.”
My not-yet-caffeinated brain recalled that all of us agreed to an early breakfast to get a head start on going ashore to St. Martin.
I tapped Hattie on the shoulder.
“Go away, I need my beauty sleep,” Hattie said, pulled down her sleep mask, and rolled over.
Clara heard the door open and close. She called out, “I’m coming as soon as I find my glasses.”
I tapped on the Langford’s room. After a few seconds, they came out of their bedroom rubbing their eyes and asking for coffee.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time to order breakfast early,” Suzy philosophized. “Of course we were wired from the champagne and the entertainment.”
“Who ordered the omelet? Whose bagel is this?” Amy asked divvying up the items on the food tray.
“Well is anyone going to help a senior citizen?” Hattie yelled from her room. When her highness calls, we answer. Without much ado we were on the balcony eating breakfast in the port of St. Martin. I wanted to snap a picture but the troops threatened.
“No one is allowed to snap photographs until after hair and make-up. That’s a Thursday Club rule,” Suzy said.
“I was not aware that we had that rule,” Clara said.
“Well we DO now,” Hattie said as she munched her bagel with smear. She turned to Amy, “By the way, did you ever get in touch with William?”
“No. I didn’t and I am a little worried,” Amy replied.
The cabin telephone rang and Suzie scrambled over everyone’s feet to answer it. She said ‘that’s my sister’ and then hung up.
When Suzy returned, she pushed her breakfast away and took her sister’s hand, “Amy dear, I have bad news. William Dylan was found this morning in his bathroom. The authorities say it appears that he fell and hit his head. The ship doctor puts the time as yesterday morning from all they can tell.”
Suzy continued, “The officer said he found Amy’s name and cabin number listed on his cell along with an agenda for St. Kitts. That’s why he notified us.”
Amy was a bit shaky as she tried to stand. She turned to go into the cabin. No tears. Just pale and in shock. I put my arm around her and assisted her into her quarters. In ministry, I had witnessed many such moments but none as personal as this. Words proved useless. Perhaps I would think of something comforting to say later.
Amy dressed silently and announced she was going to the chapel. Perhaps they had clergy available for just such occasions. Clara offered to accompany her, but Amy insisted on being alone.
After she left Suzie and I put our heads together and phoned the cruise consultant. We had a lot of questions that needed answers.
Who was William really?
Was he genuinely interested in Amy or was it a ruse?
Did his death have anything to do with the note he received at Bugsy’s?
Why did the Captain act like he didn’t know William?
Amy said he asked a lot of questions about all of us, especially Clara. Why?
And last but not least, what was ‘operation bright star’ and ‘operation rising star’?
When the cruise consultant number went to voice mail, the wheels began to turn. What should we, the self-appointed guardians of our friend, do next? The Captain of this voyage obviously knows more than he is saying. So he will be my first stop, right after I do a computer search.
While the others prepared for the day, I googled “operation bright star” on my laptop only to find that it is a nautical code indicating a medical emergency. I suppose the point of a code was to keep down panic. The other phrase, “operation rising star,” is code that someone aboard has died.
Now that I knew what the phrases meant and I knew who died. I just had to find out how an agile man in his prime fatally slipped in his stateroom. And, why did it take 48-hours before his death was reported? Didn’t he have a cabin steward? If we weren’t out of the room by 10:00 a.m., our steward, Cedric, would knock and ask if we wanted the cabin made up.
Next I phoned to get an appointment with Captain Benedict and was told quite abruptly that he wasn’t taking any appointments or phone calls at this time. I had news for the Captain. Whether he liked it or not, he would be taking an appointment from me about this mysterious person who had broken Amy’s heart.
I armed myself with my Kindle fire and a knitting project and made my way to the Captain’s headquarters. At first, the receptionist was friendly until she realized that I meant business. Kitty, the name plate read, asked if she could help me.
“Yes I am here to interview the Captain about a recent death.”
She blanched and said, “Captain Benedict isn’t available for comment.”
“That’s okay I’ll wait,” I said and poured myself a cup of coffee, settled in with James Patterson on my Kindle Fire, and began to read. She looked panicked and said something garbled over the intercom. After a bit, Kitty explained that it would be hours before the Captain left the bridge and came to the office.
“I have time,” I said. I continued to read for a while. I noticed her face when I pulled out my knitting. I know horror when I see it and Kitty was wearing it. I could read her thoughts, “How do I get rid of this crazy lady?”
Just then my cell phone rang. It was Suzy.
“Can you come to Deck 6? Hattie has just bought a piece of art!”
“What? How could that happen?”
“We decided to attend the Park West VIP Art Show. They advertised an unveiling of a child prodigy and artistic genius. We, that is Hattie and I, thought this sounded like an event that would take Amy’s mind off of William. Since they offered champagne and light hors d' oeuvres, we decided it would be fun. I seated them down front, got their wine and cheese goodies, and left them for 15 minutes to go to the box office and pick up tickets for the Wine Lovers’ Mystery tomorrow. I had no idea that Hattie would pick up a bidding paddle to fan herself. Before I knew what had happened she had bid and bought a painting by Thomas Kinkade. You know, the Painter of Light. Anyway now what do I do?”
“Can she afford it?” I asked.
“I suppose,” Suzy answered.
“Then let it be an expensive lesson.” I sounded cruel but by then I had waited more than an hour in the Captain’s office and I was in no mood for generosity for anyone, not even Hattie.
The receptionist was giving me the “stink” eye without trying to hide it. Finally she relented, made some phone calls, and miraculously the Captain offered to see me now.
“Mrs. Thibideaux. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” Butter was oozing out of his mouth.
“I think you know Captain Benedict.”
“But to refresh our acquaintance, my friends and I are on this cruise together. The first day we met someone named William Dylan. He seemed to be a very upstanding gentleman who took a great interest in my friend, Amy Langford. This morning we received the shocking news that Mr. Dylan was found dead, but n
ot discovered until 48 hours later. Doesn’t that sound strange to you? Oh and did I mention William received a mysterious note the night before he died?”
If you looked up chagrinned in Webster’s I am pretty sure an image of Captain Benedict is there. He stuttered around and reiterated that he didn’t know a William Dylan and told us as much when we had drinks together.
“Well I don’t believe you, so get ready to explain.”
After a silence that seemed a year long, the Captain rose from his chair and faced the window. “William was a special operative on this cruise. The powers that be occasionally place extra security on our voyages if there are concerns. In this case we suspect smugglers who use people such as you and your friends to get contraband out of the country.”
“What kind of contraband?”
“Mostly coral. It is endangered in the Caribbean, especially the black variety. No matter what restrictions we enforce, black coral gets smuggled into the U.S. in most unusual ways. Currently, they are targeting single women tourists who carry large totes, buy jewelry and handcrafts, and are too busy socializing to notice what items are being wrapped along with their legal purchases.
If I looked shocked, it was because I was. That explained William’s intervention into our lives, why he wanted to accompany us, and his over attentiveness to our plans.
“Was William the only detective on board?” I asked.
“No. There are several others, different genders and ages so as not to arouse suspicion. I believe there’s even a couple as well. I don’t personally know any of them. The only reason I recognized William is that we worked together a long time ago. I wasn’t aware that he told you than he knew me. When you brought it up at cocktails, I was taken by surprise and not sure how to answer. I am afraid I didn’t handle it very well.”
My brain was still swirling with all of this new information. I was recalling each time we’d seen William frame by frame like rewinding film. Amy would know more than any of us. But of course, she didn’t realize what she knew if indeed any of it was important. Added to that, she was grief stricken and not thinking clearly. What we needed was time but that commodity was running short.
Thursday Club Mysteries: All 7 stories Page 9
