Dying for a Diamond

by Cindy Sample

  “I wasn’t drunk,” I protested. “Merely tipsy.”

  Tom and the agent exchanged looks. I knew no one believed me, and it was starting to tick me off.

  “Maybe Sanjay’s murder was tied to the missing person,” I suggested.

  “Right,” said Patterson, his face devoid of expression. “I’ll keep your theory in mind.” He turned to Tom. “Would you care to go over your movements last night when you secured the scene?”

  “I’d be happy to help,” Tom said. The agent led Tom behind the caution tape. I tried to follow, but Patterson stopped me.

  Tom must have noticed the steam coming out of my ears. “Why don’t you have breakfast with your family while I help Agent Patterson?” he suggested.

  Fine. I had my own investigatory methods. And they involved chatting with the first person on the scene.

  Stan.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I dialed Stan the minute I returned to our stateroom. His voice sounded groggy as he mumbled a hello into the receiver.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead. The FBI is on the scene,” I told him. That statement worked better than an alarm clock.

  “What? Do they want to speak with me? Am I under arrest?”

  “You’re not under arrest, but they may want to talk to you since you made the discovery. Tom’s with them now. I offered to help, but they declined my offer.”

  “It’s their loss, sweetie. Do you want to have a confab?”

  “Yep. Let’s meet at the Lido Café. I could use a waffle pick-me-up right now.”

  “Make that two, with strawberries and extra whipped cream on mine. I’ll see you in ten minutes or less.”

  Stan’s ten minutes turned into thirty, exactly the amount of time it took me to get to the front of the made-to-order waffle line. But it was worth it. One strawberry-topped waffle for Stan and an apple waffle with cinnamon whipped cream slathered across all four squares for me.

  Good thing we booked that city tour of San Juan because my breakfast consisted of a full day’s worth of calories.

  In between bites, I updated Stan on what I knew. That took almost twenty seconds. Now it was my turn to grill him.

  “Tom and Bradford secured the scene, and they certainly have more expertise than I do, but do you remember seeing anything unusual? Besides the body, that is.”

  Stan grimaced and pushed his plate away. “Thanks for ruining my appetite. I may never eat Moo Goo Gai Pan again. Who knew a chopstick could be so deadly?”

  “Now that you mention it, you’re right. It’s not like a chopstick would be someone’s first choice of a weapon.”

  “Or even in the top ten. So does that mean it wasn’t a premeditated death? Who would have access to a silver chopstick other than the servers, cooks and diners at the restaurant last night?”

  “Any woman who is too lazy to do her hair,” my cousin explained as she slid into the empty chair beside me. My eyes opened wide as I turned to look at her. “I know I’m a suspect so I might as well admit it.” She picked up the unused fork from the place setting next to mine and speared a bite of my waffle.

  “Yum,” she said. “The first thing I’ve eaten since lunch yesterday. Captain Andriessen does not serve hors d’oeuvres when he’s cross-examining his staff.”

  “Does the captain seriously consider you a suspect?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure, but he definitely suspects me of being a PITA,” she replied.

  “You were kind of a “pain in the ass” back in the days when you babysat me.”

  “Oh, and you were such a model child? Remember when you painted all over my history homework?”

  “Hey, I was a budding Picasso,” I defended myself. “At least you’re not under house arrest any longer.”

  “For now. I guess the FBI took over the investigation of Sanjay’s mur…” Sierra’s eyes suddenly teared up. “I still can’t believe Sanjay is gone. I wonder if he encountered the jewel thief. Maybe accused the person of the thefts, and the guy decided to get rid of his accuser. I sure hope the FBI can figure it out. I know this cruise line will do everything they can to delay the passengers from finding out what happened.”

  “Then they should have told the FBI to dress in flowered shirts and Bermuda shorts instead of pinstripes,” I said. “The agent Tom and I met this morning might as well have had FBI tattooed across his forehead.”

  Sierra looked around. “Where is your hubby? You two are usually joined at the hip.”

  I blushed because that description would have been absolutely on target an hour earlier.

  “The agent asked Tom to go over the crime scene with him.” I frowned. “But they didn’t ask me to help.”

  “I think this is one mystery you better stay far, far away from,” Sierra said to me. “This person is dangerous. And not afraid to kill. I’d be devastated if anything happened to you.”

  I mouthed a thanks to her.

  “I certainly won’t be loitering in any ‘private’ areas for the remainder of the cruise,” said Stan.

  “Make sure you’re with friends or family at all times,” Sierra warned me.

  “Aye, aye, Madame Cruise Director.” Sierra giggled when I saluted her, although her giggles quickly morphed into choking. I passed my glass of water to her. She took a sip before she looked up and spoke to someone standing behind my chair.

  “Hello, Captain Andriessen.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  My husband accompanied the captain. I slid over so Tom could join me in the booth. Captain Andriessen chose to remain standing.

  “Thank you for lending the services of your husband, Mrs. Hunter,” the captain said to me.

  “Any time,” I replied. “My services are available as well.”

  The captain looked startled, so rather than have him contemplate what kind of services I was selling, I explained, “In our hometown, I’m also known for my investigating skills.”

  “Laurel is so famous she may open her own agency,” Stan added, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

  “Yeah, ONE GAL AND HER GRANNY detective agency,” cracked a voice I knew too well. I greeted Gran and Mabel and invited them to join us.

  “Well, aren’t you a tall drink of water.” Gran batted her few remaining lashes at the captain. “If I were a half century younger….”

  The captain flushed then turned to Tom. “Please keep our discussion to yourself. We do not wish to alarm any of the passengers. I hope you all enjoy your visit to San Juan today.” He politely ducked his head then strode off.

  Mabel stared at the captain’s retreating back before discreetly shouting, “What’s he talking about? Alarm who?”

  “He doesn’t want us jabbering about that guy who lost his hearing,” Gran said, “forever.”

  When Mabel continued to look confused, Gran illustrated by poking a finger in her ear. “That security guy––the one who got stabbed,” Gran explained. “I think he wants us to keep mum about it.”

  Good luck with that, I thought, as heads turned in our direction. Luckily, most of the passengers were more interested in their breakfast than our conversation, although Lucille and Glenn, followed by Sharon and Deborah paused at our table.

  “I saw the captain stop by,” Lucille said. “Did y’all catch the jewel thief yet?”

  “We’re not investigating the thefts anymore,” I replied. “Just trying to stay out of trouble.”

  “Hah!” said Mabel. “Trouble follows this family like a stealth missile.”

  “Nonsense,” Gran said to her friend. “We just have a nose for murder.”

  “There’s been a murder? On top of the jewel thefts?” Sharon asked, her mouth a big red-lipped “O.” “Who? And why haven’t we heard anything about it from the captain?”

  Everyone started speaking at once. If I had a whistle, I would have blown it. Fortunately, an announcement came over the intercom telling the passengers they could now disembark from the boat and reminding everyone to return by six this even
ing.

  Tom slid out of the booth and quietly explained to the group that a crew member had died unexpectedly and an official investigation was being conducted. There was no need for anyone to be upset.

  “I still think the passengers should be warned. We could all be in danger,” Deborah said. She glanced worriedly at her college friend, who was again filling in for her husband.

  “What if there’s a serial killer?” Glenn chimed in, his hands anxiously stroking his beard. “Another person could be attacked at any time.”

  “Don’t forget that person Laurel saw pushed overboard,” Lucille reminded her husband. “I swear this cruise is making me more nervous than a possum at a bloodhound convention.”

  “No one has fallen overboard that we know of, and I’m certain the crew member’s death is an isolated incident.” Tom tried to reassure everyone before switching to diversionary tactics, something he was a master of. “Do you have any excursions planned for today? My wife and I are looking forward to touring the city.”

  “We signed up for the El Yunque tour.” Lucille sent an anxious glance at her husband. “Do you think it’s safe to take the bus trip to the jungle? Someone could be waiting to hack us to pieces with a machete.”

  “You don’t need to worry about any axe-wielding murderers,” Stan informed them. “But if you run across someone holding a chopstick, you should definitely run in the opposite direction.”

  Lucille and Glenn, their faces pale, mumbled something about cancelling their jungle trip for something tamer. I slipped out of the booth. It didn’t look like anyone would miss me so I was free to multitask.

  No one can combine sleuthing and eating like I can.

  The chef behind the made-to-order omelet station stood waiting for customers. I strolled over, picked up a plate and stared at the options available. If I chose everything they offered, my omelet would be almost as big as I am. The dark-haired chef smiled while I pondered.

  Little did he know I was pondering something other than my breakfast selection.

  I pointed to an assortment of veggies and cheddar cheese. While the chef grilled my veggies, I decided to grill him.

  “Everyone seems to be talking about, you know…” I wasn’t certain if the crew knew about Sanjay’s murder, but this was one way to find out.

  He dumped some egg mixture into the pan and turned the flame higher. I couldn’t tell if he intentionally ignored me or if he was clueless about the crime that had occurred the previous evening.

  I gave it one more shot. “Is the crew concerned about what happened last night?”

  The chef indicated I should pass my plate to him. He scooped the omelet out of the pan, placed it on my dish and leaned forward.

  “We have been told not to discuss certain matters,” he said.

  “Matters like…?” I still couldn’t tell if we were on the same wavelength.

  He pointed to his ear. That was enough for me.

  “Does the crew have any idea who did it?”

  He shrugged. “I did not know him well, but there are others who did.”

  An enigmatic statement if I ever heard one.

  “Who?”

  He picked up his carving knife and pointed at the next buffet station where a beautiful young Asian woman was dishing out Eggs Benedict.

  “Her?” I asked, recognizing Mizuki, our server from Chopsticks.

  He nodded.

  What was it Hercule Poirot always used to say? When you’re running out of suspects it may be time to cherchez les femmes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  My husband grabbed me by my arm and pulled me from the Benedict line before I could question Mizuki.

  I protested but his stomach complained even louder. “I haven’t eaten yet, and I can’t handle any more questions,” he said. “Would you share your omelet with me?”

  “Only if you promise to share everything the FBI agent told you.”

  He hesitated and I waved the fragrant omelet under his nose. “You’re on,” he said.

  I grabbed an extra set of utensils, and we walked out of the Lido Café to the adjoining outdoor deck. A couple of people relaxed in the bubbling spa, and a few others sat at the bar, but it appeared that most passengers were already exploring San Juan or were in their staterooms getting ready for a tour. We chose a table near the bow of the boat and away from any eavesdroppers.

  Tom dug into the omelet with relish. I sat quietly, figuring it would be easier to quiz my spouse once his stomach was full.

  “Good stuff.” He pointed to the omelet with his fork. “Don’t you want any?”

  “Glad you approve of my selections. My sole reason for ordering the omelet was to find out if the chef and the crew were aware of Sanjay’s demise.”

  “And?”

  My husband never wasted words when he could get by with one.

  “And the chef not only knew about the murder, he also indicated a woman who may have been involved with Sanjay.”

  Tom wiped his lips with his napkin. “Nice work,” he said, placing his newly-tanned hand over mine. “Maybe we should open up our own agency.”

  I laughed. “What would Gran think of that idea?”

  “She’d be the first to apply for a position with us. Let’s keep that thought on the back burner for now.”

  “Nice try distracting me. Now what did you learn from the feds?”

  “They won’t know the exact cause of death until a medical examiner can do an autopsy, but there was a puncture to the carotid artery as well as other,” Tom pointed to his right ear, “damage.”

  “Do they have any suspects yet?”

  “After we discovered the victim, I looked around to see what type of camera coverage the ship maintained in that area. When we met with Sanjay Monday morning, he mentioned the lack of cameras on individual balconies, corridors and certain exclusive areas. I guessed that the cabana area would fall under that description and I was correct. There were no cameras in the immediate vicinity.”

  “Darn.”

  “But there are two cameras directed toward the elevators. The feds intend to scroll through all the footage on that deck, including anyone who entered or exited an elevator.”

  “That could entail hundreds of diners. Even us.”

  “That’s how this job works most of the time. Staring at countless screens for lengthy periods, looking for that one eventful moment that can solve a crime.”

  “Was there any good news?” I asked him.

  “Yes. One of the security guys the captain left behind noticed something sparkling under one of the lounge chairs in the open area.”

  “Sparkling like a diamond?” Now I was excited. My jewel-thief-turned-killer theory just got some traction.

  “A small diamond stud. It could have belonged to the thief. Or the killer. Or anyone who frequented that area during this cruise. Male or female.”

  “So we still have an Olympic-sized pool of suspects.”

  Tom nodded.

  “So what’s our next step?” I asked.

  He shoved his plate away and smiled.

  “Touring the city of San Juan. Isn’t that one of the reasons we came on this cruise?”

  Well, yes. Visiting Caribbean islands was one of the reasons we chose a cruise for our honeymoon. And to enjoy eight glorious nights together. Uninterrupted by children, work and dead bodies.

  I guess two out of three isn’t bad.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The tour of San Juan proved enjoyable as well as enlightening. I learned that San Juan was the second oldest capital city in the Americas, founded by European explorers three hundred years before the gold rush hit my part of the world. Amazing stuff.

  Between the hills and cobblestone-lined streets, I was grateful I’d selected a good pair of walking shoes. Comfort before beauty was my motto.

  So many people had signed up for this particular excursion that three busloads of cruise passengers were driven around the city, stopping at various historical si
ghts. Whether the ship planned it or not, all three buses ultimately ended up at Castillo San Cristobal, one of the two San Juan forts, whose construction began in 1625 and was finally completed in 1783.

  Although the rest of my family were off on a half-day trip exploring El Yunque, a tropical jungle located about forty miles from the city, I recognized several of the tourists strolling along the sidewalk headed toward the fort. Glenn and Lucille must have cancelled their jungle trip in favor of the city tour. They chatted with Sharon and Deborah. I wondered what Deborah’s husband was doing today since as usual, he wasn’t with his wife.

  Maybe their key to a successful marriage was never spending time together.

  I thought I saw Danielle pushing her husband’s wheelchair up ahead. I shifted to the right for a better look and ended up stepping on someone’s foot.

  “I’m so sorry.” When I found out whose foot I’d stomped on, I was even sorrier.

  “You again.” Evelyn Peabody threw a disgusted look at me before peering over my shoulder. “Where’s the rest of your thieving family? Out shoplifting?”

  “Are you always this disagreeable?” I asked her before I could stop myself.

  Her companion covered her mouth with her right hand, but not before Mrs. Peabody and I both heard her muffled laughter.

  “Well!” Mrs. Peabody replied. If I thought my comment would render her speechless, I was immediately proven wrong.

  “This cruise line needs to be more aggressive in monitoring undesirable passengers,” she declared. “It looks like they’ll let just about anybody aboard this ship.”

  We finally agreed on something. My suave hubby stepped in before I could alienate the woman even more. “Where are you two lovely ladies from?”

  Mrs. Peabody’s attention shifted to my handsome husband, and the old biddy’s frozen demeanor thawed a few degrees.