Dying for a Diamond

by Cindy Sample

  “I have the feeling you’re allergic to diamonds,” I kidded him.

  He shrugged. “Nah, these seaside stores are probably moldy or something.”

  My bet was on “or something.”

  “So I take it you’d prefer to skip the diamond detecting? I can continue by myself if you want to go back to the ship.”

  “And leave you alone?” Tom looked horrified. I couldn’t tell if he was worried about the danger to me or to our budget if he left me alone in a virtual sea of gems.

  I peeked at my watch. “There’s less than two hours before the ship leaves.”

  He sighed. “I can suck it up while you check a few more stores. But let’s make it quick. We’ll concentrate on travelers who are throwing a lot of money around and anyone who’s watching them.”

  In the next fifty minutes, Tom and I bopped in and out of so many jewelry shops on the main drag that the sales staff undoubtedly thought we were casing the joint. Or joints. Each time we entered an establishment, we would split up and take opposite sides of the store. Then we’d stroll around observing any unusual or over-the-top activity.

  Nothing jumped out at either of us in the first eight or nine stores we entered. By the time we hit the tenth jewelry shop, I’d collected a large collection of discount coupons. Now if I could only raise ten thousand dollars, I could save one thousand on my combined purchases. Such a deal.

  We finally saw some familiar faces in Venetian Diamonds, the largest diamond retail chain in the Caribbean, with stores on most of the islands. Rick and Claire conversed with a salesperson near the rear of the store. It was such a shame her bracelet was stolen on their twenty-fifth anniversary cruise. Maybe they could find a good deal in this store to make up for it. Closer to the entrance, Glenn looked over Lucille’s shoulder while his wife pawed through trays of jewelry. A big smile lit her face. Her husband had the expression of a man about to undergo a colonoscopy.

  I walked up to the couple from Atlanta. “Looks like you managed to get Glenn into a jewelry store after all,” I commented.

  Lucille looked up from the tanzanite necklaces she was contemplating. “I agreed to visit Blackbeard’s Castle if Glenn would give me an hour to shop. I’m a speed shopper when it comes to jewelry,” she said with a giggle.

  “The woman takes fifteen minutes to decide between a tall, grande or venti mocha, but when it comes to this stuff,” Glenn groused as he pointed at the shallow cases spread across the counter in front of them, “she can make a selection in seconds.”

  Lucille lightly punched her husband on his upper arm. “You old fart, you owe me something for putting up with you all these years.”

  Glenn rubbed his arm, but he chuckled. He turned to us. “Are you two honeymooners looking to buy some jewelry?”

  The sales clerk’s ears perked up, and he beamed an unctuous smile at us.

  I shook my head and replied, “Nope, we’re here looking to find a thief.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I should have phrased that last comment better. Upon hearing my remark, the salesman dropped the trays of diamond rings and earrings held in each hand. Gleaming jewels crashed onto the glass counter before bouncing across the floor. I didn’t need to look behind me to know that heads were turning in our direction. Tom and I tried to assist the harried clerk by picking up some of the fallen gems, but his manager rushed over and shooed us away.

  “Thank you, but we will attend to this ourselves,” the manager said in a heavily accented voice. He directed the four of us to the back of the store.

  Lucille nudged her husband. “You’ll do anything to get out of buying me a new ring, won’t you?”

  Glenn pointed at me. “I didn’t do it. She did.” Glenn mouthed the word “thanks” to me before he continued. “You said you’re looking for a thief. Didn’t I hear someone mention you’re a detective? Are you with Interpol?”

  “You’re close,” I said to the couple. “Tom’s with Homeland Security.”

  Tom frowned at me before clarifying. “This has nothing to do with my job since I’m on my honeymoon. Or, supposed to be on my honeymoon. My wife keeps coming up with mysteries for me to solve.”

  “Is this about that body you thought you saw go overboard?” Lucille asked me. “Did you figure out who’s gone missing?”

  “Right now the only disappearance I know about for certain is jewelry. Someone’s been stealing valuables from passengers on our ship.”

  “Doesn’t the chief security officer already have a suspect in custody?” asked Claire as she and Rick joined our small group. “I thought he mentioned that to us this morning.”

  How to answer that question? I wasn’t certain how many of the passengers were aware that the cruise director was confined to her quarters. My plan did not include sullying my cousin’s reputation any more than it already had been.

  “Solving mysteries is sort of a hobby of mine,” I explained.

  “Some people knit or crochet as a hobby,” Tom elaborated. “My wife prefers to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  The look that I lasered at my husband was sharp enough to cut through the Hope diamond. Tom threw his arm around my waist and pulled me close. “Just kidding. Laurel isn’t half bad as a sleuth.”

  Talk about a half-assed compliment. I removed Tom’s arm and shifted a few feet away from him.

  “I think it’s kinda exciting,” Lucille said. “Laurel’s mom told us all about you two. To think we have celebrity detectives on the boat. It’s almost like being on a reality show. We could call it Detectives in Paradise,” she said with a bright smile.

  “More like the clueless detective,” mumbled Tom under his breath.

  “I heard that.” I swatted his firm bicep, which hurt my hand more than it did his arm.

  “This reminds me of the Pink Panther movies or To Catch a Thief,” Lucille said. “I bet the jewel thief is a suave Cary Grant look-alike, seducing elderly women and wooing them away from their diamonds.”

  “I haven’t observed any Cary Grant look-alikes on board,” her husband replied. Just then Jimmy Bond walked into the store, surrounded by his usual entourage of elderly women. A mini-entourage in this instance since the two women were Gran and Mabel.

  A black felt hat decorated with a skull and crossbones perched rakishly on Gran’s curly bewigged head. She could have passed as Captain Jack Sparrow’s grandmother.

  “Ahoy, matey,” Gran greeted me. I brushed my cheek against hers and knocked her hat onto the floor. I bent over to retrieve it.

  “Let me take a wild guess,” I said. “You visited Blackbeard’s Castle.”

  “Yep. Mabel and I had a grand time. We bumped into Jimmy here on the way back and rescued him from his captor.”

  “What?” I asked, totally confused.

  “That Peabody witch,” Gran explained. “The woman has more money than sense.”

  Jimmy laughed at her description. “She’s no match for you, Ginny.”

  Gran ducked her head at his compliment, and her hat popped off again. I picked it up once more and returned it to her. “Thanks, dear,” she said. “Now what have you two been up to?” She eyed my left hand. “Evidently not diamond shopping.”

  “We took an excursion all around the island,” Tom said.

  “We had a wonderful time,” I added. “Sierra helped arrange it.”

  “How’s my great niece doing?” Gran asked. “Everything copacetic with her and Peabody? Did they find her missing jewelry?”

  “Some of it.” I saw no need to share that they found one of the items in Sierra’s tote bag.

  “Evelyn Peabody isn’t too pleased with the situation,” Jimmy said, a solemn look on his face.

  “I can understand her being upset about her missing jewels,” I replied. “But she can’t assume that Sierra took them. That’s ridiculous.”

  “It might sound ludicrous,” Jimmy stated, “but Evelyn told me if the cruise line doesn’t hand your cousin over to the authorities, then
tomorrow she’s marching over to the San Juan police station herself.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  As soon as Tom and I returned to the ship, we headed to the hospitality deck. I intended to tell the head of security that Lucille Blodgett heard a splash at the same time that I saw someone go overboard. Tom didn’t think Lucille’s information would light a fire under Sanjay, but at least it would keep him apprised.

  The meeting also provided an excellent excuse to find out if the officer had discovered anything further about the jewelry thefts. All I’d learned was that one of the victims wanted to incarcerate my poor cousin in the first available jail.

  The lobby area was devoid of passengers. Most were probably heading to their staterooms to prepare for dinner or any of the other dozen-plus evening activities. I hoped we wouldn’t have to wait too long to speak to Sanjay. Tonight, Mother and Bradford were treating our family to dinner at the Chopsticks Restaurant, proclaimed to have the best sushi and lobster on this cruise line or any cruise line.

  The door to Sanjay’s office was closed. We stopped at the reception desk to check if he would be tied up long.

  “I have not seen Sanjay for over an hour,” said a young man named Vidal who spoke with a lilt. “He left his office and has not returned.” The clerk tapped a young woman on the shoulder. “Do you know when Sanjay will be back?”

  She shrugged a no and went back to her computer.

  “Would you ask Sanjay to contact us when he returns,” Tom said to Vidal. “We’ll be in our stateroom 7066 and then dining at Chopsticks at 7:00 p.m.”

  He took down our information and we headed for the elevator.

  “I’d like to check on Sierra,” I said to Tom. “Just to see if there’s any good news.”

  “Sure. I can jump in the shower first.” A sly grin crossed his face. “Don’t take too long. I may need some assistance.”

  The elevator stopped on deck four. I gave Tom a playful pat on the butt before exiting. A hunky husband with a sense of humor. How did I get so lucky?

  I strolled down the corridor planning on a quick visit with my cousin. I hoped her cabin steward had kept her well-fed. Although by now, she might need something stronger. I should have stopped at one of the bars and stocked up.

  Surprisingly, no one stood guard outside Sierra’s stateroom. I knocked on her door. Nothing. I pounded my fist on the solid door and only succeeded in bruising my knuckle. Did the lack of a guard mean that the head of security had relocated her to more formal and more uncomfortable accommodations before he handed her off to island authorities?

  The door flew open and Sierra greeted me, a staff phone pressed against her ear. She waved me inside while she continued a conversation consisting primarily of “uh huh” and “I’ll take care of it.”

  Relieved, I plopped down on her sofa and waited for her to complete the call.

  She finished with a clipped “I’ll be there soon” and turned to me. “How was St. Thomas? Did you enjoy your picnic?”

  “Wonderful. Thanks for helping Tom with the preparations.”

  She smiled at me. “It was the least I could do. You caught a good one. I’m really happy for you.”

  “I’m very lucky. The man has the patience of an ark full of saints. But what’s new with you? Are you no longer under ‘house arrest?’”

  Sierra threw her hands in the air. “I’ve left several messages for Sanjay to see if I’m still restricted from going out, but I haven’t heard back. I’ve spent most of today on the phone with Zac. He’s ready to pull out all of his hair.”

  I pictured Zac’s thick sun-bleached hair. “That would be a shame. What happened?”

  “Nicole Robinson, one of the female singers in tonight’s production, skipped her rehearsal. Zac hasn’t heard from her, but he thinks she’s still in a snit over an argument she had with the other lead singer. They couldn’t come to an agreement on how to split their numbers.”

  “The perils of show biz.”

  “He asked if I could take her place.” Sierra rolled her eyes. “I can’t decide if I should be flattered or depressed.”

  “Why? You have a beautiful voice.”

  “He wants me to sing while I swing on that high trapeze. Not only have I not performed in ages, but I have a fear of heights.”

  “Sounds like he needs to find another solution.”

  Sierra walked over to her dresser and pulled her long hair into a topknot before securing it with two silver chopsticks. “I’m removing myself from house arrest and meeting Zac at the theater. If Sanjay has a problem with that, he can track me down and send me back to my room.”

  “Our family is eating at Chopsticks tonight,” I said. “If you get a minute come join us.”

  She looked at her reflection in the mirror and giggled. “I guess I’m accessorized for it. If I can, I’ll stop by for a few minutes.”

  Shortly after 7:00 p.m. our entire family was seated in the Chopsticks restaurant at an ocean-view table for eight. A black lacquer screen with an Asian motif provided a privacy barrier from the table next to us, a good thing since our group tended to be noisy.

  Due to his production issues, Zac’s chair remained empty. Stan sat on my right, attempting to maintain an upbeat attitude, but I could tell that his romance on the high seas was quickly turning into an unhappy reality show episode.

  I patted Stan’s hand. “Once Zac gets things squared away, he should be able to spend more time with you.”

  “I hope that’s the only problem,” Stan said with a hangdog expression. “Maybe he’s bored with me. I doubt I’m as exciting as the performers surrounding him.”

  Images of Stan performing the Argentine tango, dancing the hula, and whooping it up during Placerville’s annual Wagon Train Parade flitted through my mind.

  “Trust me. You couldn’t be boring if you tried.”

  Stan’s frown morphed into a wide smile. “Sweetie, you are the absolute best cheerleader. Can I buy you another drink?”

  I stared at the super-sized cocktail I held in my hand, wondering how many ounces of alcohol one coconut shell could hold.

  “I’ll pass for now,” I replied. Our server, dressed in an elegant gold brocade jacket and black pants, came over and introduced herself as Mizuki. With her large almond eyes, a porcelain complexion, dainty figure, and graceful movements, she looked like she should be waited on, rather than waiting on us.

  Mizuki informed us of the chef’s specials, most of which included lobster in one form or another. An excellent culinary decision. She finished taking our order just as Sierra entered the restaurant. My cousin looked like she’d sprinted all the way from the theater. Her topknot was more of a bottom knot with one lone chopstick holding up her thick hair.

  Sierra paused at our table, breathing hard. I motioned for her to sit in the empty seat between Stan and my mother. She slid into the chair with the grace of a former dancer.

  “You look exhausted,” Mother said to her. “Can we order you a drink?”

  “I think you should order her a pitcher of something,” Stan quipped. “Any news about the missing prima donna?”

  “More missing folks?” Mabel asked in a low roar. “This is one dangerous cruise.”

  Mizuki, her arms laden with heavy dishes, narrowly missed dropping one of them on Gran’s head when she heard that remark.

  Sierra shook her head so vehemently that her pointed metal chopstick almost grazed mother’s cheek. Mother leaned away as her niece removed the dangerous accessory and let her hair fall to her shoulders.

  “No reports of anyone missing other than a spoiled entertainer who refuses to show up to rehearsals or return phone calls.”

  “Did you agree to fill in for her?” I knew that Sierra had been the lead in her high school musicals. I still remembered her crooning to me when she babysat several decades ago.

  “Nope. Zac cut one of the numbers and gave the two remaining routines to Elizabeth Axelgard, the other lead. That should entice sulky Nicole i
nto returning to the stage for the grand finale Sunday evening.”

  “I have a feeling Zac will be happy when his four-week stint is over,” Stan said. “I certainly will be.”

  “I can relate,” Sierra said. “I can’t wait until my eight-month contract ends. Assuming I’m still employed when this cruise is over.”

  “Have you heard any updates from Sanjay?” Tom asked her.

  “Not a word. I’m going with no news is good news.” She looked at her watch. “I only stopped by to say hi to everyone. It’s back to the theater for me. Let’s try to spend some quality time together tomorrow.”

  Sierra made the rounds, hugging each of us before she left. Our food arrived and we dove in. For a while, the table remained silent with only the clicking of our silver chopsticks and an occasional “ooh,” “yum,” and “try this.”

  When my stomach reached maximum capacity, and I was too full to eat one more bite of the buttery shellfish, I laid my chopsticks on the table.

  “I never thought I’d get my fill of lobster, but I can’t eat another bite.”

  Tom whispered in my ear. “I’d be happy to help you work it off.”

  I smiled and squeezed his hand. My favorite form of exercise.

  We decided to skip coffee or after-dinner drinks and head to the theater to ensure decent seats. As we walked out of the restaurant toward the elevator bank, Stan pointed to a set of glass doors leading to the area designated for passengers who are willing to pay extra moolah to rent their own private cabana.

  “The rich and famous have their own playground,” he said. “Want to take a peek?”

  “You need a reservation to even walk through that door,” I warned him.

  He placed his finger on his lips. “If you don’t tell, I won’t. I’ll just be a minute.” He opened the glass door and slipped inside. The area appeared to be deserted so I gathered the rich and famous were off doing other rich and famous things. No one else cared enough to check out the private area so we waited patiently for his return.