Thursday Club Mysteries: All 7 stories

by Sheila Hudson

  “Do you think the smuggler(s) are still aboard?”

  “Not sure. William and I were to meet before we docked at St. Kitts. But as you know, he was dead by then. I called his room, assumed he’d already met up with you and gone ashore. We had the Captain’s Table event and it ran late so, it wasn’t until this morning that I knocked on his door. I got the cabin steward to let me in and . . . you know the rest.”

  “Seriously. Do you really think William’s death was an accident?”

  “The autopsy will confirm or deny. Meanwhile his body is in the morgue.

  “The morgue? The ship has a morgue?”

  A chill ran down my spine again.

  “Oh yes. In one year alone our cruise line reported 66 people who died while on a cruise. We have procedures in place to deal with the death of a passenger and emotional support for the family. We have a Guest Care Team who aids the family with arrangements, transportation, and even do a post-cruise follow up.

  Bodies are stored in body bags and placed in cold storage. Our morgue is on the 3rd deck. It is small, but there’s room for three bodies. Sometimes we must take the body to the first port for a coroner to pronounce death. It just depends on the situation. In William’s case, he is an employee so we take care of the paperwork, the arrangements, family notification, and any legal fees.”

  The Captain was matter-of-fact about it all. I sensed that this was not his first death on board. My mind was going crazy. I hadn’t dreamed such things existed. And how was I going explain all of this to my friend?

  “By the way, William is on ice in a freezer locker on Deck 3. Where shall we go for lunch on St. Martins?” I don’t think so. Some things are meant to be kept to oneself and I think this is definitely one of them.

  ~5~

  When I got back to the cabin, Suzy, Amy, and Hattie were anxious to go ashore. No mention was made of the painting so I decided to let sleeping dogs or in this case, canvases, lie. Clara was battling a bit of seasickness which she hadn’t mentioned before.

  “Want to go to the medical clinic?” Suzy offered.

  “Yes, I think I need one of those sticky things that goes behind your ear,” she replied.

  “A scopolamine patch,” I said.

  “Yes, one of those.”

  While Clara freshened up and prepared to find the clinic, I whispered to Suzy, “You do realize that we are in port. The ship isn’t moving.”

  Suzy nodded. “Maybe she just needs some time. Do you think the rest of us should go ahead and go into St. Martins? I for one am desperate to find out what the Captain told you. Did you get in to see him?”

  Before I could answer Clara appeared. She was a ghastly shade of pale and I wasn’t sure how far we’d get before she fainted. Clara staggered to her bed and flopped across it.

  “Uh why don’t you girls go ashore. If Clara is up to it, we’ll join you around lunchtime. You can text me where.”

  Suzy gave me a ‘well if you are sure’ look.

  At the mention of food, Clara did a 360 back into the bathroom. Suzy, Amy, and Hattie hurriedly gathered their totes and scurried out of the room as if fleeing from the bubonic plague.

  “They’re gone Clara. You can come out now,” I yelled at the bathroom door.

  “How did you know?” she came out dabbing her lips.

  “I’m a grandmother. I know fake puke noises when I hear them. Nice touch covering yourself in powder to attain ghastly pale. When we touched, you weren’t feverish or clammy so I paid extra attention. Was this your way of getting us alone? I could have suggested other methods.”

  “I just didn’t want Amy to hear what I have to say.”

  “And that is?”

  Clara took a long sip of water and I settled in for what I guessed would be a saga.

  “I recognized William from when I was a journalist student at the University of Georgia. It took me a while to place him, but when Amy said he was asking about me I realized the connection. Just to be sure, I looked him up in the yearbook. Did you know all that stuff is online now? William is listed as a private investigator but no firm was mentioned. I put two and two together and figured he was an employee of the cruise line and something was afoot. I never dreamed that he was in danger. And since we know that’s true, then we are all in danger as well.”

  Wow I never thought about that! She was right. Now I had a decision to make. Should I tell her what Captain Benedict shared? Or to avoid more panic, should I keep it to myself?

  Crazy thoughts crowded into my head. Is there a way to get into William’s stateroom? Does William have a family? Was he just role playing or did he truly care for Amy? If William was the investigator then who investigated him? If Clara and I could gain entrance into his cabin, would we find anything to help us catch a smuggler and/or a murderer?

  ~6~

  I made an executive decision and told Clara everything that I’d squeezed out of Captain Benedict. She didn’t seem surprised. Just as I suspected, Clara’s reporter antenna was working overtime.

  Since St. Martin was only our second port of call, the ones responsible were possibly still aboard the ship. We docked late at St. Martin, so we didn’t have much time. Perhaps I could bribe, or persuade, a crew member to let me in on the pretense of finding an earring. And that made me wonder, just how many people knew of William’s demise? Were they keeping it on the down-low for morale purposes or was it common knowledge among the staff? Something told me the former would be policy.

  I told Clara what I was thinking.

  “Just leave it to me. I am a reporter you know. I have squeezed information out of the tightest lipped people in the universe,” she said with confidence. This was a Clara I hadn’t seen before. I liked her spunk.

  I didn’t ask her how she did it. I only know that she managed to gain us entry into William’s cabin.

  “We can’t leave fingerprints. What can we use?”

  Clara retrieved some face cloths from the bathroom. As pseudo-detectives we are flexible like that. We covered our hands and began searching through drawers, bedside tables, closets and other cubbies that cruise ship cabins are so famous for. I found some brochures from the U.S. Conservation Department with highlighted items. No time to read now. I stashed it in my tote along with a magazine William had tagged with sticky notes. Clara searched the frig and even the balcony. Nothing there. However, for a neat person like William it did seem out of character to have clothes tossed in the bottom of the closet. We searched through the pockets of his coat and trousers. Nothing. The safe stood open but contained nothing. I assume that security removed his wallet as well as any valuables to be sent to his beneficiary. I couldn’t help but wonder who that would be?

  “Anything, Clara?”

  “No. Except for the few things at the bottom of the closet, his cabin seems almost. . . too neat, don’t you think?”

  “The only thing I am thinking is that we should get out of here and either go ashore and meet the others or go back to the cabin. I have a feeling that it won’t be long until Captain Benedict is on our heels. And just so you know, I found some material that might be important and help find the killer.”

  Without hesitation, she said, “The cabin it is.”

  I locked the cabin door and put on the “Do Not Disturb” sign. I emptied my tote bag onto the bed. Clara and I sifted through the magazines, periodicals, and government pamphlets. The marked articles all had to do with poaching, smuggling, and basically stealing protected marine life like coral, shells, and other contraband. The items highlighted had to do with either white, black, pink, red, and gold coral. As the good Captain indicated, the black coral smuggling trade was hot in the Caribbean. Smuggling carried stiff fines and even jail time. I understand not wanting to get caught, but murder?

  Clara read all this stuff with a reporter’s eye and also with the slant that a person she knew could possibly have been murdered over items that would qualify as jewelry supplies. Clara folded the last brochure from the U.S. Fish
and Wildlife Service. A tear streamed down her cheek. She walked onto the balcony and I left her with her thoughts for a while.

  I fired up my laptop and started digging now that I knew what the killer wanted—black coral and plenty of it. A load of the raw coral could garner millions and once it was polished into jewelry even more. The trick was to not get caught. Yet the question of how to smuggle it out of the Caribbean and into the U.S. remained. Were seniors like us to serve as “mules” like in the drug community? Or were we to be persuaded to buy the contraband and then be “relieved” of it before we arrived back in the states?

  When the door lock clicked, I stuffed everything into the tote. And quickly picked up the Maturity Magazine lying on the bed. Clara ducked into the bathroom.

  Amy, Suzy, and Hattie came back in a good mood. They regaled us with tales of the romance of St. Martin. The girls had signed up for a 3-1/2 hour tour covering the history of the island and how it got two names. Lunch on the French side in one of the sidewalk cafes was also part of the excursion that ended with shopping in Philipsburg on the Dutch side.

  Clara emerged from the restroom holding a damp cloth of her forehead. She was immediately encircled with hugs and “how are yous?” I winked at her and our collective instincts decided that our findings could wait.

  Amy looked a little perkier. As soon as I could manage it, I would have Suzy and Hattie read the literature I “liberated” from William’s cabin. As everyone showered and got ready for dinner, I decided that tomorrow would include another visit to the Captain.

  Tomorrow was a sea day so I had plenty of time. Before I was through, dear Captain Benedict will wish he had signed up for the Titanic.

  ~7~

  Dinner was a planned occasion for members of the Cruise Critic. Fifty-something of us met in the Galleria for a seafood buffet. I met a nice couple from Indiana and a young Delta pilot from Alpharetta, Georgia. It is indeed a small world. Amy was uncharacteristically quiet, but probably appropriate considering the situation.

  “We should tell Amy everything,” Clara insisted.

  “Maybe we should tell Suzy and let her decide. After all, she knows Amy better than anybody.”

  After dinner, the meet and greet began with prizes that everyone brought as sort of a white elephant exchange. Amy got a book of sonnets from Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Great! That should keep her weeping through the rest of the cruise.

  Hattie selected a large, brimmed yellow hat. Hilarious and perfect. She instantly removed her hot pink beret and plopped it on her head. It got a lot of laughs. All she needed was the blue raincoat and she’d be Paddington Bear 2.0.

  On my cue, Clara suggested that we enter the Bingo tournament.

  “That sound fantastic,” Hattie said.

  Clara and I gave her the eye roll meaning “no.” It was our ruse to get Amy out of the way, so we could let her and Suzy in on what we had learned from the Captain and our “visit” to William’s cabin.

  “Uh, I forgot,” Hattie back pedaled. “I have to go back to the cabin for my casino card and then, uh, register for the ship tour.” Hattie was a terrible liar. Luckily Amy wasn’t paying attention. She was counting her cash and perusing the Bingo schedule.

  “Well you two run on,” Suzy said to Clara and Amy.

  “Roxy and I will get Hattie’s card and take her to the casino.”

  Clara nodded, took Amy’s elbow and with a thump, da thump of the shocking pink cane, they were off to Bingo at the Star-Kissed theatre.

  The three of us hightailed it back to the room. I spread out the brochures and explained about the value and danger of black coral smuggling, plus the information I was able to squeeze out of the Captain.

  Suzy sat quietly taking it all in. Hattie wheeled herself into her quarters and re-emerged with a box.

  “Yippee. I finally I get to use this stuff,” she announced.

  “What stuff?” I said.

  “My spyware. I have a recording robot that looks like a Roomba© along with night goggles. But, the kicker is these babies.”

  Suzy and I looked at what appeared to be a pair of large, gaudy earrings.

  “So?” Suzy said.

  Hattie put them on and a twinkle flashed when she touched it.

  “Aren’t they cute? Each one is a tiny camera. I have been dying to use them ever since I got them on the World Wide Web. One of Maude’s grandchildren helped me order them from a Spyware place. That web is one terrific place. Have you ever heard of it?”

  “Yes, Hattie. It’s one of the marvels of our age.” I answered.

  Suzy was still taking it all in. Finally she spoke to me, “Since you have had a chance to process these findings, what should we do? William was obviously silenced because he was onto something dangerous. But what?”

  Hattie was still unpacking her spyware when she interrupted us by saying, “Yesterday while you thought I was resting I found these folks in the bar who were very friendly. They were, in fact, Friends of Dorothy, though I never found out who Dorothy was. Anyway they offered me champagne and we had a nice chat about a lot of things. One of them named Jack, short for Jacqueline I suppose, asked me if I wanted to buy some black coral jewelry. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now I’m not so sure. Do you think there’s any connection?”

  Hattie’s little revelation caught me by complete surprise on two levels. First, she had managed to enter a lesbian cocktail party without knowing it. And second, Hattie had made contact with an agent for the coral smugglers. My mouth hung open. I was at a loss. Suzy’s color drained. I thought she might faint. I couldn’t read her mind but it was somewhere between panic and hysteria. How could we protect Hattie? From harm and from herself.

  “Ummm Hattie did anyone else hear your conversation with Jack?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so. Is it important?”

  That’s when I knew that she hadn’t yet connected the smuggling and the black market jewelry. Perhaps it was for the best.

  “Do you think you would recognize ‘Jack’ if you saw her again?” Suzy asked.

  “I think so. It was pretty dark in the Sunset Bar. Did I mention that it was only girls? It was a lot of fun. I think I had two glasses of champagne. All of us should go to the next party. Maybe we can meet Dorothy.”

  No comment from either of us. Maybe we could contact one of the other undercover detectives to infiltrate the Dorothy gathering. Hattie returning didn’t seem like a good idea to me. But on the other hand, Hattie DID have spyware and we had only seen part of her stash. Only God knew what else she had brought along on what was supposed to be a restful vacation.

  “Should we catch up with the others?” Suzy asked. Her hands trembled and I don’t remember seeing her so fearful. But then her sister was the one targeted since Amy had been with William the most.

  “I think it best to text Clara to come back to the cabin. We have a lot to talk about before dinner.”

  With the comment about dinner, Suzy sputtered to life.

  “Oh I almost forgot. Tonight after dinner is a special memorial service for Mitchell. Amy and I arranged all this ahead of time. We must all wear our memory pendants as we pay respects. I’ve arranged for other pet owners who are mourning their loss to join us. It’s kind of like a vow renewal for devoted pet lovers like us.”

  Just when I thought nothing could surprise me. The Langfords had done it again. What was appropriate to wear to such a memorial for a feline? I’ve attended a number of social affairs in my tenure as a pastor’s wife but none to equal those with this group. A cat funeral, a cat wake, a cat necropsy, and now a cat memorial. I should write a book.

  I walked out onto our balcony. Today’s information was overwhelming. If I’d read it in a novel I’d have doubted the realism. Yet here it is. The five of us are on a Caribbean cruise with a murderer, coral smugglers, and a troupe of detectives in incognito. One friend is grieving the murder of her boyfriend. Another is loaded with spy equipment and friendly with the lesbian communit
y. While the rest of us are wearing cat remains as jewelry. What could possibly come next?

  Oh, I forgot the Pet Memorial Service.

  ~8~

  Suzy, Hattie, and I were relaxing on the balcony when the Bingo girls returned. Amy was smiling. She had won a few bucks and a bottle of wine. Clara and Amy were giggling like teens as they plopped down on the sofa. I for one was happy to see Amy in a lighter mood despite our somberness.

  It seemed prudent to wait until a later time to talk about our findings. The memorial service would be enough of a downer.

  “What’s that smell?” Hattie bellowed from across the room.

  “What smell?” Clara answered.

  “Like a Calvin Klein ad for ladies of the evening,” Hattie replied.

  “I don’t smell anything,” Amy said. “Clara and I did stop by the perfume counter on our way back from Bingo. I wanted to see if they had the fragrance I saw advertised on television.”

  “How many did you try?” Suzy asked.

  “I don’t remember. A few.”

  “A few too many. You smell like Avon threw up on Chanel. To the showers, you two. I would have assumed that someone of your maturity knew to only sample one fragrance, not the entire perfume counter,” Hattie’s reprimand made us smile.

  She finished it off with, “Assuming makes an ass of you and me.”

  “Some people have no restraint,” Suzy muttered. “Hurry up! We have reservations at the Oceans Away and the memorial service afterward. I don’t want to be late.”

  Clara and Amy dutifully went to the showers while the rest of us powdered, perfumed, and did our make-up. Suzy was still disgruntled and seemed a little ‘not herself.” I couldn’t blame her. We just dumped a lot of information in her lap with not a lot of time to process.