Dying for a Diamond

by Cindy Sample

  “Oh, my goodness. She’s been mugged,” said Sharon. “And in broad daylight. They warned us to be careful.”

  “Do you think you can walk,” Sierra asked me. “Or would you rather go to the hospital?”

  “She should certainly see a physician. How’s your noggin, dear?”

  This time I slowly lifted my head to answer my British friend. “Just tip-top, Jimmy.”

  He chuckled. “She still has her sense of humor.”

  “Honey, what do you want to do?” asked Tom. “We can have them call an ambulance and take you to a hospital. You could have a concussion or other injuries.”

  The long drawn out peal of a cruise ship about to depart made my decision for me. I looked at my watch. “Do we have time to make the ship?”

  “If we hurry,” Sierra said.

  I took a deep breath. “Then let’s move it, fellas.”

  Ninety minutes later, I sat propped against the plump pillows of our stateroom bed, surrounded by my family who seemed intent on smothering me with love. And chicken soup. I personally would have preferred a margarita.

  “We never should have let you go on an expedition without us,” grumbled Gran. “I could have taken out that mugger.”

  “Were you going to beat them off with your rubber chicken?” Mother testily asked Gran. “Laurel has a husband to protect her.” She directed a frown at Tom. “Supposedly.”

  Tom’s face turned as red as the burgundy sofa in our stateroom. “I’ll never forgive myself for not being there.”

  I pushed myself up and clasped his hand. “It is nobody’s fault. I still don’t know why the mugger attacked me. Neither my clothes nor my clearance sale purse shout ‘wealthy American.’”

  “You didn’t hear anyone come up behind you?” Bradford asked.

  I started to shake my head then switched to a verbal negative. “Whoever the person was, they were as quiet as a cat.”

  Cat. Wait a minute. A tiny twenty-watt light bulb clicked on in my foggy brain.

  “I just remembered. The mugger said something before he or she clobbered me. Something in Spanish that ended in gato.”

  Mabel and Gran looked confused. “Gotta what?”

  “Gato means cat in Spanish,” Tom said. “Why would someone talk to you about a cat and then clobber you and steal your things?”

  “I don’t know. I’m grateful I only had my ship’s card and a little cash in my purse.”

  “Who else did you talk to today?” asked Stan.

  “Lots of people. Three busloads of cruise passengers converged on the fort at the same time.”

  “I bet it was one big pink gato,” Mabel said excitedly. “You know from that Pink Panther ring of jewel thieves. I read those guys have stolen half a billion dollars in jewels from all their heists.”

  “But why would they pick on me?”

  “Maybe you got in their way somehow,” Mabel suggested.

  “Was that old biddy Peabody there?” Gran asked. “She might have bonked you just out of spite.”

  “Tom did an excellent job of entertaining her and her sister while Jimmy and I chatted.”

  Gran licked her lips. “That Jimmy is a stud muffin if I ever seen one.”

  “Hey,” Mabel squawked. “I got dibs on Jimmy. He likes his women tall and…” she looked down at her plus-size frame “…sturdy.”

  “I already claimed him,” Gran protested. Mother interrupted the two women. “Stop bickering. You’re going to give Laurel an even bigger headache. She needs to rest.”

  Mother shooed everyone out of the room. The quiet sounded odd after the clamor of the past hour and a half. Tom and Jimmy had helped me walk down the long drive from the fort to the street. Since the hired buses had already returned to the ship, the men flagged down a taxi. Sierra had gone ahead to plead with the captain to wait an extra ten minutes for our arrival. He acceded, whether in sympathy for my injury, or because he needed Tom’s skillset for the ongoing homicide investigation.

  I closed my eyes, hoping that if I concentrated, I could remember additional details of the incident. Tom remained quiet, his fingers gently kneading my palm. Despite my painful headache, I could feel my body responding to his touch.

  “So do you want to…? You know,” I said to him.

  “No,” he said, although he grinned. “One of us has a headache, and she needs some rest.”

  “It could be a good distraction.” I smiled then winced. Even that small movement hurt.

  “I think you’ve had enough distractions for one day.” A light tapping on the door indicated another distraction had arrived. Tom walked to the door and let Sierra in. She rushed to my side.

  “Oh, Laurel, you look so pale,” she said, smoothing my hair. “Maybe you should have gone to the hospital in San Juan.”

  “Dr. Cartwright, the ship’s doctor, checked me out. He said it was a mild concussion. I only needed two stitches. And some bed rest.”

  “Are you certain you were mugged?” she asked. “Could this have anything to do with Sanjay’s murder?”

  “Why would you think that?” Tom asked Sierra. Then he turned to me. “What were you doing while the docent gave me a short tour?”

  “Merely chit-chatting. You know. A little chit here and a little chat there. All very discreet.”

  He leveled a look at me.

  “Mostly discreet,” I added.

  Sierra wrinkled her brow. “You might have asked the wrong person a question and set things in motion. Tom, we need to keep an eye on her from now on.”

  “If I know my wife, one knock on her noggin will not deter her.”

  “You have to admit, there’s been some weird stuff happening on board this ship,” I replied. “A dead security officer. A missing body. Stolen jewelry. Plus there are two husbands I haven’t seen since our first night on board–Darren Abernathy and Fred Johnson.”

  “Good grief,” Sierra said. “What happened to them?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to find out. We don’t want another murder to occur.”

  “No, we don’t,” my husband said, his face more serious than I had ever seen it before. “And that’s why you’re not leaving my sight for the rest of the cruise.”

  I could live with that. Too bad it was easier said than done.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  When I woke the next morning, my head felt like the Island Magic band had moved their steel drums inside and taken up residency. I was grateful the ship would not be stopping at any ports today so I could rest and recuperate from my injury.

  The room seemed oddly quiet. No husband singing off-key in the shower. I gazed out the window to our balcony. No sign of Tom there either.

  Good grief. Not another missing husband.

  The door into our stateroom opened. I froze before realizing it was Tom.

  “I didn’t think you’d be up so early,” he said. He walked over and plopped a gentle kiss on my lips and a cup of coffee in my grateful hands. “How are you feeling?”

  “You don’t want to know.” I gulped down half the coffee. “But this shot of caffeine should help. Did you run into anyone else?”

  “I met with Captain Andriessen.”

  “And?”

  “He contacted his main office in Los Angeles and told them about my position with Homeland Security. They authorized him to share any evidence with me. Matt Patterson, the FBI agent, also concurred, figuring the more assistance the better. Although the FBI crime scene team combed the area for evidence, they didn’t come up with any suspects. And not much in the way of clues other than that one diamond stud.”

  “So they want you to wander around examining everyone’s ears?” I chuckled at the thought of such a monumental task.

  “Their own security team is handling that task via some subtle inquiries, although conceivably the earring could have remained hidden during multiple cruises. I doubt the cleaning crew scans the area like crime scene techs do. The captain asked me if I would review the video foota
ge near the elevators that day. The FBI team had to leave on an urgent matter and didn’t have time to do it.”

  I pouted. “So I’m on my own today?”

  “Not if I can help it,” Tom replied. “One of your family members will be with you at all times. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m grateful they all came on board.”

  I held mixed feelings about Tom’s arranging a full-time babysitting service for me. Then he shot me a look filled with concern and love, and I realized his only thought was to keep me safe from harm.

  With a vision of Gran and Mabel dressed in Rangeman black, each armed with a rubber assault chicken, I agreed to his terms.

  An hour later, dressed in a knee-length cover-up with a swimsuit underneath, I accompanied Tom to Mother and Bradford’s floor. Their room was almost directly above ours, although two decks higher and a couple of staterooms over. As we walked down the corridor, hand in hand, a door opened ahead. Sharon and Deborah stepped out of the room and closed the door behind them. Deborah blended into the hallway décor in her usual neutral beige, but Sharon was dressed to the hilt in gilt. It was a good thing the ship was at sea today because her hot pink sequin-studded top would set off the metal detectors.

  “Hello, you two,” Deborah said. “Are you feeling better, Laurel?”

  “A tad. Where are you off to?” I asked.

  “We’re going to check out the art auction,” Sharon replied. “We love collecting art. Toodles.”

  The two women were lucky they’d run into each other on this trip, even though it was weird that Darren never accompanied them. But then weird was becoming the new “normal” on this cruise.

  Tom knocked on my mother and stepfather’s door, only two down from Deborah’s stateroom. Or was it Sharon’s?

  Bradford opened the door and we entered. Their room was identical to ours, although less messy. Mother wore a yellow shift that made me crave lemonade. She’d even managed to find a matching sunhat.

  “You look better than you did yesterday,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Hungry,” I replied. “And ready for a relaxing day by the pool.” I looked at Bradford. “Are you also guarding me?”

  He shook his head. “Tom asked me to come along and review the video footage with him.”

  “Be my guest. By the way, there’s a woman from a stateroom two doors down from you. I haven’t seen her husband since our first night on board. She seems to spend all of her time with a girlfriend of hers. I’m wondering how come no one has seen her spouse in a while.”

  “Maybe he’s off doing guy stuff,” Bradford said.

  “I suppose.”

  Or maybe she pushed him overboard.

  Not a bad working theory. Not a good one either, but certainly something to ponder while we explored all the breakfast buffet options the ship offered.

  Two hours later, feeling like a beached whale from my sumptuous repast, I lolled on a chaise lounge fronting the main swimming pool, along with dozens of other passengers. With my Kindle in hand, I attempted to read the latest mystery by one of my favorite authors. After thirty minutes, my e-reader showed I’d progressed from twenty percent all the way to a whopping twenty-two percent of the story.

  I laid the device on the table between our lounges. Mother looked up from her paperback. “Are you enjoying your book?”

  I shrugged. “I can’t seem to get into it. I don’t know whether it’s due to my concussion, or if I’m distracted by the crime wave on this ship. It makes the mystery I’m reading pale in comparison.”

  She pushed her designer sunglasses on top her head and peered at me. “You do remember you’re on your honeymoon, right?”

  I sent her a scathing look. “And my husband is spending our honeymoon hanging out with your husband reviewing video footage.”

  “Touché. Once a detective, always a detective, I suppose.”

  “I guess. Was it difficult for you when you and Bradford first married? When he was still on the force?”

  “Worrying about Robert’s safety was one problem.” She swiveled around until she was facing me. “Don’t forget I’d been a widow for thirty years and living alone once you left for college. There are a lot of adjustments when you cohabit with someone.”

  “C is for compromise?”

  “Definitely. I still don’t understand why a retired detective, responsible for solving multiple homicides, can’t remember to put the cap back on the toothpaste tube.”

  I chuckled at her comment. Married life meant a huge transition for Tom and me, but I was definitely ready for the adventure. “I wonder if the two of them discovered anything important this morning.”

  Mother pointed toward the automatic door. “Here they come. We’ll soon find out.”

  The men joined us and Bradford pulled up a chair by Mother’s chaise, while Tom squeezed in beside me on my own lounge.

  “You fellows look very pleased with yourselves,” Mother remarked.

  “Haven’t lost my touch or my eyesight yet,” Bradford replied. He removed the Giants baseball cap that kept his bald scalp from burning, reached over and kissed my mother.

  “Old Eagle Eye spotted someone heading to the cabana area about five minutes after Sanjay arrived,” Tom explained.

  “What time was that?” I asked.

  “Around 5:10 p.m. according to the footage.”

  “And why are you so intrigued by this person?”

  “She’s a female server at Chopsticks. We think there might have been something going on between them that was beyond professional.”

  “You could be right. One of the chefs mentioned her the other morning. Mizuki is her name, right?” I high-fived my husband. “So why are you wasting time here instead of grilling her?”

  “What if I said I missed you?” Tom said to me.

  “What if I said you’re checking on me?”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Okay, that too.”

  “So what exactly is your plan for the rest of the day?” I asked, snuggling closer to him.

  “The woman is working at the Lido Café during the lunch rush. The captain will arrange a meeting with her around two when her shift is over.”

  “Did you run across any other suspicious characters when you reviewed the footage?” I asked.

  “We’re not finished yet. A few people went into that area earlier in the day. The security staff will try to contact as many as they can, but I doubt if they’ll come up with anything new.”

  I was about to ask Tom another question when I was distracted by Margaret walking on the opposite side of the pool deck from us. Once again, she was alone. Did she ever spend time with her poor sick husband?

  “Did the captain give you access to all the ship’s footage?” I asked, my gaze fixed on the single woman’s retreating figure.

  “I assume he would if we requested something specific. It’s a big ship. There are literally miles of video footage to wade through.” He sent me a worried glance. “It could take the rest of the trip to scroll through it all.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not that ambitious. I wondered if you could check the footage from our first night when I saw that person go overboard. It occurred around 3:30 a.m. so it’s a narrow window of time. And location. Remember, Sanjay said he would look at it. But he never got back to us with the results.”

  Tom sighed. “You have a different definition of how to spend a honeymoon than I do.”

  “I’d be far more relaxed if we could learn more about that evening.” I kissed him lightly on his lips. “You won’t regret it.”

  Tom fiddled with his left ear lobe. “If I promise to review the footage from the first night, will you agree to let it go? No more worrying about someone being thrown overboard? No more detecting?”

  That was an easy decision. After yesterday’s disastrous outing, I was more than ready to give up my investigation.

  At least for the day.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The changing
of my bodyguard occurred at lunchtime. Mother wanted Bradford to accompany her to the art auction so they grabbed a quick sandwich and disappeared. One of the security staff stopped by our table with a request from the captain for Tom’s immediate presence.

  I was given the choice of watching a shuffleboard competition with Gran and Mabel or getting an advance peek at the final stage production, compliments of Zac. I could hardly turn down the opportunity to watch the dress rehearsal of one of my favorite musicals––Grease.

  Stan and I chose seats in the center section, about eight rows up from the stage. I would never have thought to pack a leather jacket for a cruise, but Stan could have passed for one of the male members of the production. He’d even slicked back his thinning hair.

  I jerked my head toward the stage. “Are you planning on joining them? You’re certainly dressed for the part.”

  “You never know. Nicole Robinson, that lead singer who was a no-show at rehearsals, finally emailed Zac yesterday. She decided to leave the ship when we were at port and flew home to be with her boyfriend.” He whispered in my ear. “Her married boyfriend.”

  “How did you learn that?” I asked.

  Stan flapped his hand at me. “Oh, you know me. It doesn’t take long before I become everyone’s GBFF. The stuff I could tell you would make your jaw drop to the floor. I decided it wouldn’t hurt to understudy the understudy, in case one of the male dancers disappears, or breaks a leg.”

  “So that’s what you’ve been up to. I’ve barely seen you on this cruise.”

  “It’s not quite the lark I thought it would be. I’ve learned a lot about stage directing, though.”

  “Will Zac be relieved when his one month contract is up?”

  “I don’t know.” Stan chewed on his lower lip. “I certainly will be. I used to think that working in the entertainment industry would be glamorous. But Zac spends his days and nights babysitting the talent and worrying about a multitude of details: lighting, sound, props, and the music. It makes banking look like a kindergarten class in comparison.”