“I am an investigator,” I said.
“You investigate UFO sightings,” Nancy said. “This sort of thing is a matter for the police, not someone who believes in the Force.”
“I’m kind of impressed that you know what the Force is,” I said.
“Ned and I have watched Star Wars with the grandkids. Believe me, it wasn’t my choice.”
Scooter put his arm around me. “Actually, I think Mollie is an excellent investigator. I’m sure Chief Dalton would agree.”
I snorted. “You think the chief would agree? The man can’t stand it when I get involved in investigations. He only tolerates me, because Anabel and I are friends.”
“That’s not true,” Scooter said. “He’s a stoic sort of fellow. Keeps his cards close to his chest. But I can still tell what he’s thinking.”
“Really? Have you suddenly developed ESP? Ooh, did you learn how to do that from one of the apps on your phone?”
“Yep, there’s an app for everything.” Scooter smiled. “There’s probably even one to keep track of my pet names for you.”
“What kind of pet names do you call Madison?” I asked Anthony.
“Pet names?” Anthony scratched his head. “Nothing too original, I guess.”
“Scooter can probably give you some pointers.”
“We should focus on the murder, my little sexadecimal,” Scooter said.
My eyes widened. “Sexadecimal? That sounds pretty racy.”
“Racy? It refers to numbers that relate to sixteen or sixteenths. It has to do with computation of . . . hang on a minute, you almost got me off track.” He tapped my notebook. “We should make notes while our memories are still fresh.”
“Notes about what?” Madison asked before taking a sip of her tea.
“About the murder,” Scooter said. “Possible suspects, motives, and alibis.”
“What happened to my husband?” I asked. “This is the type of thing you tell me to stay out of.”
“Not this time. This time, I’m going to help you.” Scooter pushed the notebook toward me, then removed his glasses and polished them.
Anthony shifted in his chair. “Maybe it would be better if we left this to the professionals.”
“But what professionals?” I asked. “We don’t know how jurisdiction works for this kind of thing. We don’t even know if we’re heading back to the States or continuing on to the Bahamas.”
As if on cue, a voice came on over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. I’m sorry to inform you that due to circumstances beyond our control, we are going to have to return to Florida. At present, we do not have an estimated time of arrival. I apologize for the inconvenience. We will update you as soon as we know more.”
“Circumstances beyond their control,” I said. “That’s a new spin on describing murder.”
Scooter dug through my purse. After pulling out one of the glitter pens, he said, “Okay, who do we think did it?”
Madison sipped nonchalantly on her tea while Anthony toyed with a spoon. Ned and Nancy looked perplexed. And I was utterly dumbfounded. Who was this man sitting next to me? He could talk about death, blood, and other gory subjects with ease. Surprisingly, now he wanted to be involved in a murder investigation.
“Suspects?” Scooter prompted.
Before anyone could answer, one of the crew came up to our group and addressed Anthony. “Excuse me, Mr. Wright. Your aunt fainted on deck. The ship’s doctor is with her, but there’s a concern about her condition. The captain requests your presence.”
As Anthony and Madison rushed off, I pointed at the notebook. “That’s something you should write down. They told us that Sylvia had taken a sedative and was lying down in her cabin. That doesn’t seem to have been the case, does it?”
“Good point,” Scooter said. “What was she doing walking around on the deck?”
* * *
Nancy and Ned excused themselves, saying that the breakfast buffet was calling them.
“I know you’re hungry,” Scooter said to me. “But I think we should check the crime scene first.”
“The crime scene,” I spluttered.
“We should have checked it earlier,” he said. “Hopefully, it hasn’t been tampered with.”
“Let me get this straight. You actually want to see the place where Fletcher was pushed to his death?”
He furrowed his brow. “Isn’t that how you properly conduct an investigation? You’re always telling me about the clues you and Mrs. Moto find at the crime scene.”
“Well, yes, that’s true. It’s surprising how many things get overlooked.”
“Okay, then. Let’s get going. No time to waste.”
As we walked past the buffet, I looked longingly at the omelet bar. “They make them to order,” I said. “Are you sure we don’t have time for a quick bite to eat?”
Scooter smiled as he ushered me away from temptation. We walked out of the restaurant, through the lounge, past the casino, and down a maze of hallways. The only way to access the crime scene was via the stairs located at the rear of the ship on the port side. As Scooter opened the door to the stairwell, I noted that this part of the ship was rather quiet. Unless your cabin was in this section of the ship, you weren’t likely to come back this way.
“Chop, chop,” Scooter said while I followed him up the stairs. “Time is of the essence. Now, what cover story should we use if someone tries to keep us from examining the scene?”
“Earlier, I flashed my FAROUT badge and threatened to call my superior officer.”
“Hmm, your superior officer. Is that me?”
“You’re a smart guy, what do you think?”
He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “Don’t worry, I know my place in the pecking order. You’re the boss.”
“Actually, I was going to say that Mrs. Moto is the boss. She’s our superior officer and we’re just her humble human servants.”
He chuckled, then asked if the same ruse would work again.
“I’m not sure. The guys I used it on weren’t the brightest.”
“Maybe I should get one of those badges too.”
“Are you saying you believe in aliens now?”
He stopped on the landing and gazed at me with those dark brown puppy-dog eyes of his, which always make me feel gooey inside. “I want to take more of an interest in what’s important to you. You enjoy investigating things—both real and . . .”
“You were going to say make believe, weren’t you?” I teased.
“I’m trying to keep an open mind. We’re partners, right? I was the one who was passionate about sailing. Heck, I even bought you a sailboat as an anniversary present. You’ve been fantastic at supporting my dream. You help with fixing up the boat, you’ve learned how to sail, you—”
I stopped him mid-sentence with a kiss. When we came up for air, I said, “I really like sailing now.”
“What about Marjorie Jane?”
“I’ve become rather fond of M.J. She’s as much a part of our family as Mrs. Moto is.”
“That’s what I’m saying. You embraced my dream. I need to be more open to what’s important to you.” He tugged on my hand. “Come on, let’s go. I got distracted with all this sailing talk. The crime scene awaits.”
As we exited the stairwell, I paused and peered over the side of the boat. “It’s a long way down. Fletcher must have been terrified.”
“Try not to think about that,” Scooter said.
The frothy, churning water that the cruise ship was plowing through on her way back to Florida was mesmerizing. Despite that I managed to tear myself away. Then I stopped in my tracks. Yellow barricades had been erected in front of the area of the deck where Fletcher and his assailant would have been standing. Pointing at the two muscular men standing guard, I said, “I had to talk my way past those guys to get into the captain’s office.”
“Those are the ones you showed your FAROUT badge to?
“Yea
h, but I’m not sure the same trick is going to work twice.”
“Leave it to me,” Scooter said. “I have an idea.”
Scooter strode up to the two men. After exchanging a few words, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Crew cut guy saw me and frowned. Scooter offered something to him—I couldn’t see what as his back was turned to me—but crew cut guy refused. Goatee guy nudged his partner and said something which must have made him change his mind. They both held out their hands and took what had been offered.
The two men nodded as they walked past me, then Scooter waved me over. “Okay, we’re good to go.”
“What did you do?” I asked. “Show them your business card?”
“Something like that,” he said.
“You bribed them, didn’t you?”
“A bribe? Me?” Scooter feigned shock. “I prefer to think of it as a contribution.”
“Contribution to what?”
“They mentioned something about needing to get a statue repaired. Now, let’s hustle before anyone comes by.”
As he moved one of the plastic barricades aside, I told him to hang on for a minute. I pulled my phone out of my purse and took photos of the area. When murders happened in Coconut Cove, I had been able to revisit the crime scene. Granted sneakily at times, but it had been feasible. Though with this particular situation, once we disembarked the cruise ship, I doubted even I would be able to sweet talk my way back on board.
When I was done, I nodded at Scooter. “Okay, let’s check things out more closely.”
The crime scene was located on the uppermost deck that was open to the public. While some of the other decks below wrapped around the entire ship, this deck only extended across the stern of the ship. And, unlike some of the other decks which had open railings, this one was enclosed.
Being careful not to touch anything, Scooter leaned over and pointed at the deck below us. “That’s where we were standing.”
“Fletcher would have been somewhere around here,” I said, positioning myself with my back facing the water. “We could only see the upper portion of his body from where we were standing.”
Scooter planted himself in front of me. “His attacker could have been standing here.”
“He or she might have been standing further back,” I said. “Remember, we couldn’t hear that person clearly.”
“She,” Scooter mused. “Do you think it was a woman?”
“I don’t see why not. In my experience, women are as likely to kill as men.”
“But it would have taken a certain amount of strength to push Fletcher backward over the railing.” Scooter placed his hands on my shoulders, trying to figure out how the killer might have done it. “Fletcher was quite a bit shorter than me, maybe five foot five, five foot six?”
I nodded. “He was short, but squat.”
“Yeah, he was certainly packing the pounds,” Scooter agreed. “It would have taken some considerable force to lift him off his feet and push him over the railing.”
I paced back and forth for a few moments, then said, “Aha!”
“Did you find a clue?”
“Not exactly. There doesn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary around here.”
“Then what was the ‘aha’ for?”
“It falls more into the ‘means’ category.” I pointed at a gate situated in the middle of the enclosed railing. “I heard a grating, metallic noise that night. What if the killer opened this gate and then pushed Fletcher overboard? That would have made it easier.”
Scooter gave me an appreciative look. “Smart thinking.”
“But wouldn’t Fletcher have sounded the alarm when the killer opened the gate,” I mused. “That should have seemed strange to him, even considering how inebriated he was.”
“He was pretty drunk when I left the casino,” Scooter said. “I can only imagine how much more he drank between then and when he was killed.”
“Herbert did intervene at one point and whispered to the waitress to bring Fletcher a non-alcoholic drink. But Fletcher could tell right away that something was off about it. I’m sure that he made sure all the rest of his drinks that evening were full of booze.”
Scooter pursed his lips. “Or his killer made sure they were full of booze.”
“Do you have a napkin or something on you?” I asked.
“Will this work?” Scooter handed me a cloth that he used to clean his glasses with.
“Perfect.” Using the cloth, I tried to open the latch on the gate. “This isn’t easy to budge.”
“Here, let me try,” Scooter said. He had an easier time of it, but not by much. After the bolt was retracted, he swung the gate inward. “There’s that noise we heard.”
I stepped forward and peered through the opening at the water below. “Why didn’t we notice that the gate had been opened? Wouldn’t we have seen it from where we were standing?”
“We only looked up at this deck for a short period. Then you pulled me back so that Fletcher and his killer wouldn’t see us,” Scooter reminded me.
“Yeah, first rule of eavesdropping. Make sure you aren’t seen.”
“Come back from there,” Scooter said. “I don’t want anyone else to go overboard, especially you.”
“That makes two of us,” I said as Scooter shut the gate.
“Hey, buddy, time for you and the missus to go.” Crew cut guy waved us toward the stairwell. “The captain is headed this way. Hurry.”
As we dashed toward the stairs, I saw a flash of hot pink out of the corner of my eye. Bending down, I gasped when I saw what was wedged behind a lifebuoy.
“Come on, lady,” crew cut guy said.
“Just a sec . . . got it.” I darted down the stairs, then followed Scooter through the maze of halls. When we reached the lounge, I showed him what I had found.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked.
“Uh-huh. A cigarette butt. A hot pink cigarette butt.”
Scooter’s eyes widened, then we both said at the same time, “Madison.”
* * *
“That was a close call,” Scooter said as we stood in line at the omelet station. “The captain almost caught us.”
“Usually, it’s Chief Dalton I’m trying to avoid at crime scenes,” I said, eyeing all the potential omelet fillings. Deciding to go for a healthier option, I opted for mushrooms and bell peppers. “Actually, can you add some cheese too?” I asked the chef. “Maybe some of that bacon and ham as well?”
Scooter requested his usual—a Denver omelet. While we waited for our eggs to be prepared, I poured some orange juice and Scooter grabbed some toast.
As we looked for an empty table, I heard people sharing theories about why we were returning to Florida.
“I heard someone had a heart attack,” one woman said.
“No, it was an aneurysm,” her companion said. “The ship’s doctor had to do emergency brain surgery, but there were complications.”
At another table, people were convinced that a celebrity was on board. When the diva’s cell phone died and she wasn’t able to update her social media sites, she demanded that the captain turn the boat around.
A couple walking in front of us were certain that it was a government conspiracy. What exactly the government was hiding wasn’t clear, but it had something to do with coconuts and dolphins.
“This looks good,” Scooter said, setting his tray on a table in the far corner of the room. It was positioned behind a column, offering a bit of privacy.
After devouring our food—investigating murder makes you hungry—Scooter was eager to get down to business. On our way to the restaurant, we decided that although we had found a cigarette butt at the crime scene that could have belonged to Madison, we needed to keep an open mind. I had been fooled by red herrings before.
“What should we start with? Motive, means, or opportunity?” Scooter asked.
“Motive,” I said. “Figuring out why someone would take a life is always fasc
inating.”
“I can see how the whole psychology of it would be interesting. Usually people commit murder, because they’re jealous, greedy, or want revenge, right?”
“Those are some of the main motives, but don’t forget that murder is often a way to hide something, either another crime or a secret.” I looked up at the ceiling, trying to recollect the conversation I had overheard between Fletcher and Madison. Even though it had only happened the previous night, it seemed like ages ago.
“Earth to Mollie,” Scooter said. “What are you thinking about?”
“I don’t think I had a chance to tell you about the conversation I overheard between Madison and Fletcher. Given the cigarette butt, it’s taken on more significance.”
“Overheard or eavesdropped on?”
“Does it really matter?” I asked, cocking my head to one side.
“I guess you’re right,” Scooter conceded. “When people don’t think anyone can hear them, they say things that are meant to be a secret.”
“Exactly. And Madison has a secret. Fletcher knew what it was and threatened to reveal it to Anthony if Madison didn’t do what he wanted.”
“What did he want her to do?” Scooter asked.
“For Herbert to be taken care of.”
Scooter frowned. “That sounds ominous.”
“Fletcher is the one who was killed, not Herbert,” I pointed out.
“Okay, so Madison could have killed Fletcher to keep her secret safe.” Scooter pointed at my purse. “Shouldn’t we be writing this down?”
I handed him the notebook and a pen. After he jotted down a few notes, I said, “The next person on the list is Herbert.”
“Herbert? But I thought you just said that Madison was supposed to take care of him.”
“Ah . . . but that’s what makes investigations so tricky. Sometimes, you’re not sure who are the good guys and who are the bad guys. Herbert and Fletcher definitely had some issues. Maybe Herbert snapped and wanted to get rid of Fletcher.”
“Is this about the alleged embezzlement? That was years ago. If it had really happened, and if Herbert was really upset about it, he would have offed Fletcher a long time ago.”
Overboard on the Ocean Page 8
