Dying for a Diamond

by Cindy Sample

  Stan reappeared in under two minutes. Ashen-faced and eyes bulging, he babbled so fast I couldn’t understand a word he was saying.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked him.

  “I…I…found someone,” he said, his teeth chattering.

  “Uh, oh. I told you not to sneak in there. Did you catch them in the act?”

  He shook his head. “Someone’s been sk…sk…”

  “C’mon, Stan, spit it out,” Tom encouraged him.

  Stan pointed toward the inner sanctum and shouted, “Skewered!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Tom and Bradford followed Stan back into the private sunbathing area. I followed, too, although I lagged behind, not certain I wanted to be privy to Stan’s gruesome discovery. Whatever it was.

  This area of deck eleven consisted of ten private cabanas plus some additional lounge chairs scattered about. Royal blue curtains could be left open to welcome the sun, or closed for complete privacy. While wandering around, Stan said he’d slipped on a wet spot on the wooden deck. To maintain his balance, he’d grasped the closed curtain to one of the cabanas.

  With a handful of heavy canvas in his hands, Stan spied the victim sprawled across a chaise lounge, blood pooling under his body.

  And a silver chopstick shoved through his ear.

  Stan made a hasty exit, having no idea who the dead guy was, although since he wore a uniform, Stan assumed he belonged to the crew.

  Since we had previously met the victim, Tom identified him immediately.

  “This isn’t good,” he said to me.

  I nodded in agreement. Someone had killed Chief Security Officer Sanjay Radhakrishnan. This was so not good. But now we knew the reason why he hadn’t returned Sierra’s phone calls.

  My mind filled with a vision of Sierra, one lone silver chopstick dangling from her blond hair. Where had the other chopstick gone?

  Bile rose in my esophagus at the thought that my cousin might have murdered the security officer. I took a few deep breaths and pushed those ugly thoughts far away. Anyone in the Asian fusion restaurant could have used the extremely sharp utensil for this deadly deed.

  But why would they?

  Tom and Bradford debated whether to use Sanjay’s own staff phone but decided not to touch anything on his person. Bradford asked the restaurant hostess to contact security and send some people to secure the scene. At first she refused, but Tom managed to convince her of the necessity.

  It certainly doesn’t hurt for a detective to have oodles of sex appeal.

  Tom waited by the elevator for official reinforcements from the security office while Bradford guarded the victim and the crime scene. I tried to console Stan who struggled to make the image of the dead man disappear.

  “I think I’m gonna toss my dinner,” Stan said.

  I fanned his flushed face. “Don’t think about it. Try to concentrate on something pleasant.”

  “Oh, you mean like a relaxing Caribbean cruise?” Stan asked sarcastically. “I’m beginning to think you’re a magnet for murder.”

  “Hey, this has nothing to do with me or my family.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t.

  A chorus of elevator bells announced the arrival of a variety of officials and crew including the captain, who could have walked straight out of a Hollywood casting call for ship captains. Tall and broad-shouldered, with the chiseled features of a Nordic God. I wondered if the cruise line required their captains to look the part as well as have the ability to steer a really big boat.

  Tom and Bradford introduced themselves to the captain. The three men walked through the glass doors into the private area. The captain arranged for two crew members to be posted outside the doors to ensure no one would intrude on the crime scene.

  I tried to gain entry but was turned away. Guess Tom forgot to include me on the guest list.

  Mother, Stan and I debated what to do next. Gran and Mabel had already gone ahead to save us seats, so they missed Stan’s announcement of his horrible discovery. I doubted the captain would have appreciated the two granny gumshoes giving him advice on how to conduct an investigation.

  Inquisitive diners tried to grill the crew, but the two guards maintained their silence. The three of us received a few curious looks, but we kept mum. I wondered how long it would take before the passengers learned of the crime. Once they discovered how the murder occurred, Chopsticks would either be crammed with nosy cruisers or bereft of restaurant patrons.

  The elevator pinged the arrival of the ship’s doctor accompanied by a female nurse. I wondered if the physician had ever encountered a murder victim on board the ship. The odds of him running into death by chopstick were most likely zero.

  They threw brief glances at our trio as they crossed the carpeted elevator foyer. The guards already had the doors open for the medical personnel.

  “I wonder where they stuff their stiffs,” Stan asked. “I hope it’s not in the freezer next to the baked Alaska.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Ew, gross.”

  Mother shivered. “How much longer do you think Robert and Tom will be tied up?”

  “Who knows?” I replied. “The captain is lucky to have two former homicide detectives on board.”

  “There’s no chance this is simply an accident, is there?” Mother looked hopeful.

  “I guess there’s always a possibility the chief security officer decided to clean his ear with a chopstick instead of a Q-tip, but…”

  Mother held her palm up. “Enough said. What should the three of us do? Wait for Robert and Tom or head down to the theater?”

  “I almost forgot about the show,” I said. “I wonder if anyone told Sierra what happened.”

  The elevator pinged my answer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Sierra stepped out of the elevator car and stopped, her full skirt swirling around her knees. Her gaze first zoomed to the cabana area before it landed on our trio. The satiny fabric of her pale blue dress swished softly as she hurried over to us.

  “What’s going on? My assistant said there was some sort of emergency up here.” Her frightened blue eyes scrutinized us. “Is anyone hurt?”

  Stan answered her first. “Yes, definitely hurt. And definitely dead.”

  Her face paled. “Who is it?”

  I tried to ease into an explanation. “You know all those messages you left for Sanjay this afternoon?”

  “Yes.” Sierra looked even more puzzled.

  “Well, he won’t be returning any calls today.”

  “Or ever,” Stan mumbled.

  Sierra turned whiter than her pearl earrings. She slid down the wall and landed in a sitting position with her legs splayed.

  I jumped out of my chair and crouched by her side.

  “Are you okay?”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m better than Sanjay, obviously. Give me a hand.” I helped pull her to a standing position.

  “So what happened? How did Sanjay hurt himself?”

  “It looks like he had help.”

  Sierra looked confused so I elaborated. “You know those chopsticks you were wearing in your hair earlier?”

  She nodded.

  “Someone shoved one of them into Sanjay’s ear.”

  Sierra wobbled on her high heels and for a minute, I thought she was going down again. I was about to explain in more detail when several people walked out of the cabana area. Tom appeared to be arguing with Captain Andriessen. My husband held strong feelings about proper homicide protocol. I took a wild guess that the captain might not agree with some of Tom’s suggestions.

  “Thank you for your assistance,” the captain said. “My men will handle it from here.”

  “I really think…” Tom began, but Andriessen cut him off.

  “We have everything under control.” The captain nodded in my direction. “Why don’t you take your family to one of our bars?” He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it over to Tom. �
�Drinks are on me.”

  Tom looked like he was about to say something else, but he merely thanked the captain and shoved the card in his pocket.

  The captain beckoned to Sierra. “Ms. Sullivan. Please come with me.” When she hesitated, he followed his request with a harsher command. “That’s an order.”

  Sierra silently trailed behind the captain into the elevator. She lifted her hand to us before she was whisked away.

  I placed my hand on Tom’s forearm. “What were you and the captain arguing about?”

  He blew out a breath. “We hold a difference of opinion on crime scene processing. Bradford and I offered to process the evidence to the best of our ability. We’re not crime scene techs, but we know our stuff. The captain declined our offer.”

  “How does he plan to handle it?” I asked, surprised by the captain’s refusal. Not often is a ship lucky enough to have a couple of homicide detectives on board when a murder actually occurs.

  “His men have closed off that area. They’ll be moving the body to the ship’s morgue. When we dock tomorrow in San Juan, the FBI will take over the investigation.”

  “That sounds reasonable to me.” I said, wondering why Tom differed with the captain.

  “The FBI is the proper authority for this particular situation. I’m just worried that his inexperienced crew will destroy potential evidence. The doctor could easily miss an important clue. Timing is critical in a murder investigation.”

  “What should we do?” I asked him.

  Tom pulled the coupon out of his pocket. “Get a drink? There’s not much I can do without his permission. We certainly can’t interview all two thousand plus passengers to find out who had a reason to kill Sanjay.”

  “Don’t forget the crew,” I added. “That’s eight hundred more.”

  “From what I’ve read,” Bradford chimed in, “it isn’t that unusual for a shipboard assault to be brushed under the carpet, or in this case, the keel. The last thing the cruise line wants is for passengers to worry about a murderer on board.”

  “So you don’t anticipate any announcements over the ship’s intercom warning the passengers about chopstick-wielding serial killers?” asked Stan.

  “I doubt this was the work of a serial killer,” Tom said. “Using the chopstick as a weapon seems like a spur of the moment decision. It’s possible the person might not have intended to murder Sanjay. It could have been an accident gone wrong.”

  “Maybe they just wanted to make a point,” Stan said. I groaned at his puny pun, but his comment made me contemplate who might have had a beef with the security officer.

  Unfortunately, I could only think of one person who had the means, the motive and the opportunity.

  My cousin.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  After one round of drinks in the Queen’s Lounge, Mother and Robert decided their evening had been exciting enough. Stan left to go backstage and track down Zac.

  I’d hoped to run into Sierra at one of the events she normally hosted, but her assistant appeared in her place. When asked about Sierra’s whereabouts, she said my cousin was tied up on an official matter.

  Tied up was one thing. Shackled in handcuffs would be a completely different scenario.

  Tom and I walked silently down the corridor leading to our stateroom. Once inside, he said, “A dollar for your thoughts.”

  I smiled. “You’ve upped the purchase price.”

  He bent over and kissed the top of my head. “Knowing you, there are at least one hundred thoughts circling around.”

  I plopped onto the bed and picked up the cute animal our steward had left on the covers. Every night he turned a towel into some type of creature. Tonight I cradled an elephant in my arms. Or a dolphin. Marcel, our steward, was still interning in towel creation.

  “Despite the captain’s decision to keep Sierra in her stateroom, Sanjay didn’t believe she was the thief. He told me he planned to continue investigating the jewelry and money thefts. Maybe he got too close to the thief, and he, or she, decided to get rid of him.”

  “You can’t rule out Sanjay being killed in a moment of passion,” Tom replied. “That’s always a possibility.”

  I bounced off the bed. “That would open up an entirely new field of suspects.”

  “A baseball-sized field of suspects,” Tom said. “And without the captain’s permission, there isn’t much we can do about it.”

  “Don’t forget that I can be very enterprising.”

  “And so can I.” Tom wrapped his arms around me and leaned in for one soul-searching kiss. “And there’s someone I want to investigate right now.”

  Heck. You only get one honeymoon. The suspects could wait until morning.

  After a nightmare-filled night dreaming about chopstick-wielding murderers, it was a relief to wake up in my stateroom next to my husband.

  The clock read 7:15 a.m. so I slid out of bed, crossed the room and opened the heavy drapes covering the balcony windows. Our stateroom must have been facing east because the sun literally blinded me as I stepped out onto the balcony. I could see the sprawling buildings comprising the city of San Juan. Farther down the pier, another enormous ship approached the dock.

  I wondered how the captain planned on conducting a murder investigation without the help of the chief security officer. Did they hand the poor victim off to the FBI, say sayonara and sail off into the sunset?

  Would Sanjay’s murder end up as front-page news or literally become buried at sea?

  I had a feeling the captain would prefer to quash any notification to the public, but that didn’t suit me at all. Especially if Sanjay’s death was a result of him trying to prove that my cousin wasn’t a thief.

  Speaking of Sierra, I wondered if she was awake by now. Even though the ship had already docked, passengers were not allowed to disembark until eight. I dialed her stateroom, and she picked up immediately.

  “How are you doing?” I spoke softly so I wouldn’t wake Tom. “I was worried they’d accuse you of killing Sanjay.”

  She laughed, but her tone sounded more bitter than joyous. “If it were up to the captain, he would call Sanjay’s death an accident, tell the crew to keep quiet, and get on with the cruise.”

  “Do you think he’ll try to do that? And how does someone accidentally kill themselves with a chopstick?”

  “What does Tom think?” she asked. “He and your stepfather spent a few minutes there before Captain Andriessen arrived. Did they retrieve any clues?”

  I stared at my sleeping sleuth. “None that he disclosed to me. What are your plans for the day? Are you allowed off the ship?”

  “I don’t know. The captain didn’t command me to stay on board so I suppose I am. Did you and Tom sign up for any of the excursions?”

  “The rest of the family chose the jungle trip, but Tom and I wanted to see the forts so we signed up for the city tour. Although knowing Tom, he’ll offer his services to the investigation, assuming the captain is interested in his help.”

  Tom’s eyes blinked open at the sound of his name. He grabbed my hand, the one not holding the phone, and pulled me onto the bed. The warm kisses he planted on my neck turned my mind to mush.

  “Sleeping Beauty is awake, Sierra. Let me call you back in a few minutes.”

  “I won’t hold my breath.” She chuckled and hung up.

  Smart woman, my cousin.

  A little over an hour later, Tom and I, our arms wrapped around one another, entered the elevator and pushed the button for deck eleven. Tom wanted to check if any law enforcement agencies had arrived yet.

  We stepped out of the elevator to find most of the floor cordoned off with caution tape. Two men dressed in pristine white stopped us from going any further.

  Tom explained that he had helped secure the scene the previous evening. He reached into his wallet and pulled out his Homeland Security credentials. The shorter of the two men took the card over to a tall, slender man dressed in a dark suit. He was directing a couple of g
uys wearing navy jackets. The trio looked completely out of place on the ship.

  “Looks like the FBI is already on the scene,” Tom said. “I’m impressed.”

  “Maybe they won’t need your help.” I couldn’t decide whether I was relieved or disappointed that our assistance wouldn’t be needed.

  “That’s fine with me. More time for exploring the islands and …” Tom’s voice trailed off as the man in the suit approached us.

  “Matt Patterson,” he introduced himself. “I’m the agent in charge. The captain informed me that two homicide detectives were the first to arrive at the scene.”

  “Technically, our friend Stan Winters stumbled upon Sanjay first,” I corrected the agent.

  Patterson’s pale silver eyes narrowed at my comment. “And why was your friend nosing around this area? I understand it closes at five every evening.”

  “Stan was curious where the more well-to-do passengers spend their time,” Tom explained. “The door was unlocked so he wandered in and strolled around. He slipped on what we discovered was most likely the victim’s blood and almost landed on top of the man.”

  “Was this friend of yours acquainted with the chief security officer?” the agent asked.

  “No, but we were,” I said. “We were helping him with other investigations.”

  The agent’s eyes turned into slivers of gray as he pondered my comment. “Other investigations? Care to elaborate?”

  We spent the next few minutes explaining the recent spate of thefts, although I neglected to mention Mrs. Peabody’s accusation against Sierra. If the FBI agent was interested in the missing jewels, he could find out the details for himself.

  “We also contacted Sanjay when I saw someone fall overboard,” I added.

  Now the agent really looked confused. “This is the first I’ve heard about someone going overboard. The captain didn’t mention anything about it to me.”

  I started to respond, but Tom placed a palm on my forearm. “My wife thought she saw someone fall overboard our first night on the ship. No one has reported anyone missing nor did anyone else see someone fall into the sea. Sanjay assumed my wife had too much to drink that evening.”