“Tantig!” I jogged over to her as classy as I could in high heels. “What are you doing up so early?”
“Your mother thinks I need to walk.” She blinked heavily.
“Where is Mom?”
“Who-hk cares?” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “I want to watch my soaps and sleep. She says walking is good for my arthritis. That woman is trying to kill me.”
I couldn’t blame Tantig. She was eighty years old. She’d worked hard as a cook in the old country and lived a tough post-war life as an immigrant to the U.S. She’d earned the right to watch soaps or sleep all day. Wasn’t something that enticed me, but who knew what I’d be doing at eighty?
She glanced past me at the cruise director wheeling her bag of tricks along the deck. “Are we leaving today?” She stared at the suitcase. “Everyone’s got their luggage packed.”
“No, Tantig. We’re not leaving today. This is Nassau. It’s one of the ports of call.”
She gave a confused look and trundled off, the sun reflecting on the deck behind her.
I wasn’t sure Tantig should be left alone to roam the ship, but after my mother’s coddling, she was probably glad to have some freedom. Plus, where could she go?
That thought was still on my mind while I scrounged around in my bag for my sunglasses. I pulled out my Musk perfume and hairbrush, hoping they hadn’t crushed my shades.
“A penny for your thoughts,” a voice whispered in my ear.
Shrieking, I whipped my brush behind me and spun around, spraying perfume in a frenzy. Typical. Most people jumped and said ooh! or aah! when someone startled them. I screamed bloody murder and hurled beauty products.
“Brilliant.” Max coughed and wiped his face. “So much for my cologne.”
“Sorry, Max.” I gave him a contrite smile.
“It’s my fault.” He picked up my brush. “I should’ve known better than to sneak up on you like that. What are you doing up here anyway? Breakfast has already started.”
I put my things away. “Just admiring the people and the harbor.”
“Uh…” He backed toward the deck chairs. “Can you come away from that railing? You’re making me nervous.”
We meandered to an inner walkway, secluded from a view of the water.
Max sighed with relief. “Now, what’s this ‘just admiring the people and the harbor’ all about? You sound melancholy. What gives?”
“You want to know? It’s this whole business with Kashi and Lucy.” Okay, so I couldn’t let it go. “No matter how I rationalize it, instinct’s telling me there’s more to what I saw last night. I’m not looking for trouble, but I don’t like the unsettling feelings looming over me.”
I also told myself this was only about Kashi and Lucy. My disquieting emotions had nothing to do with Romero. As it was, I had to feed Max tiny doses of Romero or he’d be on my case about Mr. Long Arm of the Law being the love of my life. He’d already pestered me on this trip about Jock being on the hunt and me being the prey. I didn’t need to give him more ammunition.
“I had a feeling that’s why you weren’t at breakfast and why I was searching for you.” By the look on Max’s face, he was ready to offer more theories.
In that moment, I decided to let it all go. I knew nothing about Kashi or Lucy, and I’d been wrong before. I wasn’t going to spend my vacation worrying about other people’s affairs. I had enough agony focusing on my own. I cleared my mind of what I saw in Sabrina and Lucy’s cabin and pasted a smile on my face. “Forget it. You were right about what you said last night.”
Max jerked his head back at my about-face. “I was?”
“Yes. The heat’s getting to me. That’s all.” I took a deep breath. “Now, I’m going to enjoy a lovely day in Nassau, sightseeing and shopping at the straw market. If you’re with me, let’s go eat.”
“Fine by me,” he said. “I worked up an appetite falling out of bed last night.” He raised his elbow and gave it a rub. “Look at this bruise.”
I stared at the mark on his elbow. “What happened?”
He put up his palms. “We must’ve sailed through a patch of rough waves. The motion kind of threw me when I rolled over in bed.”
I pictured him dropping from the top bunk to the floor, and my thoughts turned to Jock lying on the bottom bunk, looking all hunky with a simple sheet covering his semi-naked body. My voice suddenly went hoarse. “Didn’t Jock catch you?”
Max gave a lopsided frown. “If you must know, Jock hasn’t slept in our cabin since we left Miami.”
My eyes got big and round, and Max nodded. “But I’d love to know where he has been sleeping. More specifically, with whom.”
I swallowed hard, recalling Miss Romania whispering in Jock’s ear before the contest winner was announced. Promises for later?
Max leaned in. “And where’s he been eating? He’s not sitting at our table.”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” Jock could eat on the roof or the poop deck, for all I cared.
I got haughty all over again, thinking of my new lease on life. I wasn’t going to be fooled by any man, including Jock de Marco, with his sexy hair and hot body. He could eat where he wished. And if he wanted to sleep with every supermodel on the ship, then more power to him.
Max studied me like my nose might twitch at any second. “Aren’t you a teensy bit curious where he’s been sleeping?”
I stared right back, steady-nosed. “Not even an eensy bit.” I had great self-control when I tried. “Now let’s eat. We’ve got an island to tour.”
* * *
After a full day in the sun, and getting even more color, I returned to my cabin and took a cool shower. I stepped into my elegant but overpriced Bottega Veneta heels for the captain’s Greek-themed Gala and shimmied into a full-length, one-shouldered white gown, perfect for the event.
I stopped sliding the gown over my naked body, thinking twice about going commando underneath. Soft, silky viscose on bare skin was the most delicious feeling…next to the stroke of a man’s strong hands. And since I wasn’t getting a lot of that lately…Oh what the hell. I wasn’t going to deprive myself of this ecstasy. Plus, wasn’t this a beauty cruise? Well, this made me feel like the beauty Helen of Troy.
I fixed my hair into long loose curls, then glanced around the cabin at Phyllis’s messy belongings. I hadn’t seen her all day, and I tried not to let this worry me. She could be anywhere. My history with murders was haunting me. That’s all. I overreacted about Lucy. And I shook off any doubts about Phyllis. She was a big girl. She didn’t need monitoring.
Before I locked up, I quickly read through the beauty package to see what else was happening tonight. My gaze stopped halfway down the page. A scavenger hunt? Scheduled the minute dinner finished. All that was required was a bag of beauty tools for cracking clues. Right up my alley and sounded like fun. In addition, I already had my beauty bag. I looked down at myself. White gown. Black sack. Not the greatest fashion statement, but if I took part I wouldn’t have time to come back and change. Oh, who cared? I’d take my bag with me and get involved.
I left the cabin, took the elevator to the dining room, and felt the atmosphere there spine-tingling. Everyone was dressed exquisitely. Tables were garnished with olive branches, columns were lit from inside, and the smell of Greek salad and moussaka was tantalizing.
I told myself to have a good time. I looked like a Greek goddess for crying out loud. And I was on a free tropical vacation. What could go wrong?
I watched people vying to be invited to eat at the captain’s table. Not me. I had no desire to be up close and personal with the head of the ship. As it was, I regretted not sliding on undies. What if someone could see through my gown? What if I fell, and my dress hiked up? Oh Lord. I couldn’t even think about that. I fiddled with the ring on my index finger and got in line to shake the captain’s hand.
I inched along, recalling the same greeting ritual a few days ago when we’d boarded the ship. Only, that day, it was inte
rrupted when Lucy and Sabrina had come along, and Lucy had pushed past Max and me.
I swung my bag by my side and surveyed the dining room. No Lucy, or Sabrina, for that matter.
I gave a nervous titter and swiped a fluted glass from a toga-clad waiter’s tray. I slugged back the drink, and bubbly slid down my throat into my empty belly. Mmm. I momentarily ignored the fact I became an embarrassing drunk on half a cup of booze. Something Romero had made a point to remind me of when he called about California, and I told him about the cruise.
I could almost see the grin twitching the corners of his mouth. “Stay away from the piña coladas,” he’d said. “I won’t be there to save your fanny when you’re flat out on the pool deck, shouting at lanterns.” A reminder I’d gotten a teensy bit drunk that night in the Berkshires.
Fine. I wasn’t going to have any more than this tiny glass. I took only a sip this time and waited until my brain registered the incoming bubbly. While I was waiting, I thought back to the last few times I’d seen Romero. He’d seemed on edge, preoccupied, unusual for a tough cop always in control. Was this California case weighing on him? Was he already involved with his new partner, Belinda? I stiffened. Was he tired of me? Was this his way of breaking things off?
It was my turn to shake the captain’s hand. Outside, I was smiling. Inside, I was working myself into a state over Romero. I felt a zing from my drink, and thankfully my prior thoughts became fuzzy. Still, I did a mental head smack. Pace yourself, Valentine.
Suddenly, there was a hand on the small of my back, and warmth seeped into my pores. I knew by the exotic, aromatic smell and the grip rounding my hips, it was either Paul Bunyan or Jock de Marco. Paul Bunyan carried an ax over his shoulder; Jock’s tools hung much lower and were presently pressing into my backside.
“What would you say if I asked you to be my dinner companion?” His voice was low, soft.
I tried to turn, but his arms securely held me, facing the captain. I searched for something witty and sophisticated to say, then hiccupped in his ear. “Where would we eat? The poop deck?” I snickered like I’d just told an amusing joke.
He gave me a squeeze, then shook hands with the captain. “How many guests are joining you, Carlo?”
Carlo?
“The table is full.” Captain Madera smiled from Jock to me. “Except there is, ah, yes, one seat open, if this bella donna would like to join us.”
Jock stepped back, allowing me to make the decision. I spun around and gaped at him in his naval white uniform, clad with medals. Hercules goes Navy. Beside the captain in his cruise-line regalia, Jock looked like he should’ve been the one steering this boat.
I didn’t know why he was dressed so classy and in naval attire. The only clear thought I had was to rip off his buttons, one by one, with my mouth, down to his sexy, naked, tanned skin.
A faint smile played at the sides of Jock’s mouth, as though he knew what I saw pleased me.
An electric charge raced through me, and I pushed down a swallow. “Okay.”
Like a prince, Jock led me down the steps into the grand dining room. I managed to retain a somewhat graceful composure, except for one little trip, but I was sure nobody saw that.
“She’s going to break her neck one day in those damn heels,” Mr. Jaworski crowed off to the side.
Almost nobody.
We passed tall pillars and gawking faces. Max was grinning, ear to ear, from his end of the room, and at the far wall, my mother’s eyes were wide. Tantig sat expressionless next to her, looking straight ahead. She wasn’t easily impressed.
We carried on the procession to a large circular table in the middle of the room filled with guests. Jock waited for me to sit, then took the seat next to me.
Greek music hummed in the background, and I did my best to schmooze with tuxedoed men and diamond-clad women. But I wasn’t comfortable with the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous vibe at the captain’s table. I glanced around. Where was Clive? Where was my father? I looked in the direction of the bathroom and saw my dad wander out. As for Clive, I likely should’ve been searching under the tables.
I clenched my teeth, wishing to slide under the table myself. Everyone seemed relaxed, laughing and sipping champagne. And I was sitting there, bare-bottomed, champagne in hand, Jock’s eyes staring into my soul. Great recipe for disaster. I downed my drink, took a deep breath, and when the buzz stabilized in my skull, I snatched a water carafe from the table and poured a healthy dose of water in my glass. That would clear my head.
The woman next to me gasped. “That’s our—”
“Shh,” her husband said. “Let the girl enjoy herself.”
Jock leaned into me. “Don’t you think you should slow down?”
I held up my water. “Got it covered.”
Right. As long as he was breathing hotly down my neck, his muscular thigh pressing mine, me naked under my dress, I was in trouble.
I chugged back my water, and my throat burned. What the…? Coughing and sputtering, I reached for the carafe and sniffed inside. This wasn’t water. Smelled like black licorice. Ouzo?
A loud chime reverberated through the room, making my head spin. The captain stood and raised his glass. “Opa!”
Everyone shouted, “Opa!” Except for me. I jumped and sloshed my drink on my lap.
“Welcome to my Gala,” the captain said. “An evening I hope you won’t soon forget!”
Hic. I jerked my head up, instantly relaxed, and Jock raised a brow. Not too worried about that, I gave my lap a carefree swipe, then dropped my head onto his huge, padded shoulder. I flicked a medal on his chest, smiling dopily up into his cognac-colored eyes.
“And now,” the captain said, “I’d like to present—”
“Here! Here!” I saluted my glass high, smiling all around, then cuddled back into Jock like a kitten, soaking up his attention.
The captain continued, “—our own head chef.”
Two men in white rolled out a large cart with a white sheet covering a structure four feet high. Another man with a chef’s hat followed. Everyone applauded.
“To my latest creation,” the chef announced.
Everyone said, “Cheers!” and the assistants whipped off the sheet.
I stood up—barely—and gasped along with five hundred other guests at the Aphrodite ice sculpture. Inside, staring out at us was a three-foot-high figure, its contorted face pressed against the wall of ice. I squinted to get a better look, but before I could utter a word, Mr. Jaworski dashed to the cart and shrieked, “Lucy!”
CHAPTER FIVE
Mass confusion ensued. People screaming. Women fainting. Security blocking exits.
I flopped down on my seat and slapped my face. I was drunk. All I saw was an iced Aphrodite, Greek goddess of beauty. This was a beauty cruise, after all. I didn’t see Lucy inside an ice sculpture.
The slap must’ve brought me to my senses. In fact, I thought I sobered up pretty quickly. I watched the madness in the room, but my mind was back to last night in Lucy’s cabin. I tried to think of a connection to what I saw regarding Kashi and the vial, but I couldn’t come up with anything concrete. And since I hadn’t heard of any fatalities between last night and today, I assumed Lucy was fine after her victory party and had toured Nassau today like everyone else.
If that was true, was she murdered on land and brought back on board as an ice sculpture? Or was there a murderer on board who switched the Lucy ice sculpture with the one intended for tonight?
I grabbed a glass of water off the table, gave it a sniff, and downed the contents, trying to rid the ouzo completely from my system and focus on the events of the evening. I had no intention of butting into the case, but I scanned the dining room nonetheless for anyone who looked shady. I wiped my mouth, and my gaze landed on Kashi. Hmm. Talking to a waiter. Didn’t seem all that suspicious, but I narrowed my eyes on him just the same.
Jock and the captain had taken up positions by the ice sculpture, and one of the crew got on a pod
ium and told everyone to remain calm. Easy for him to say. It wasn’t every day one saw a dead body inside an ice statue. And though I’d had enough bad luck with dead bodies popping up in my orbit, a frozen corpse was a first.
Over the next several hours, passengers were questioned. Jock and the captain had gone into the galley, taking onboard security with them. The melting statue and body had been covered and carted away. Unconscious women were carried out on stretchers, and Max was by my side, counting the bodies rolling out of the dining room.
The ouzo I’d chugged earlier had slowly worn off. I was almost one hundred percent coherent when the captain’s crewman got back on the podium and encouraged everyone to carry on with the cruise. Fatalities happened, and the cruise line didn’t want Lucy’s horrible demise to spoil anyone’s vacation.
Despite the crewman’s words, the level of hysteria remained. My mother was in the middle of a group of passengers, and from where I was standing I could hear the panic in their voices.
Max and I stumbled over to the group and, after more talk and more questions, everyone decided to hit the piano bar. Emotions were high, but booze was a great antidote for shock or fear. With nothing else left for us to do, we mutely followed the crowd.
* * *
Tantig tailgated my parents into the lounge, sat at a small round table, and ordered a ginger ale. The chairs were black and velvety, and the lighting was dim with a bluish-purple glow. Max and I settled on barstools around the grand piano where the pianist was playing a sultry jazz song from the fifties. I wasn’t sure how fast word traveled on a cruise ship, but the atmosphere in the lounge was romantic and seductive, and the pianist seemed laidback. I bet dollars to donuts he hadn’t heard about the recent tragedy. By the look of the crowd, I was afraid that might change.
My gaze swept to the back corner of the bar where I’d seen Jock talking to the captain on our first night here. The conversation had seemed serious, but they could’ve been discussing the upcoming contest and Jock and Miss Romania’s roles for all I knew. I quickly put that thought to bed and was trying to recall anything else about their meeting when Max accidentally elbowed me, bringing me back to the present.
Murder, Curlers, and Cruises Page 6
