Murder, Curlers, and Cruises

by Arlene McFarlane

  He joined in some speculation about what had happened to Lucy, while others worried about danger to themselves. I sighed, trying not to eavesdrop on the conversations flowing around me. But everyone believed there was a killer on board, and nobody felt safe. Me included.

  Kashi shuffled into the lounge, head down in respect. He pulled up a chair next to Tantig and leaned in to talk. I watched him for a minute through skeptical eyes, then drew a long breath and turned back to the pianist.

  Thing was, logic told me Kashi couldn’t be Lucy’s killer. Sure, he’d slipped something into her drink yesterday—and I still didn’t know what that was all about—but that was miles apart from stuffing her in a mold and freezing her. How would a passenger on the ship even have access to a mold? Furthermore, if the drink had killed her, someone behind the scenes would’ve had to partner with Kashi to accomplish this insane act. But who? I remembered him talking to a waiter earlier, but then again, everyone was in an uproar, looking for answers after Lucy had turned up frozen.

  My head was starting to throb from the alcohol I’d consumed. I forced myself to ignore the buzz in the room and stop thinking about poor Lucy. I let my mind flow to the music when the pianist finished his set and stepped away for a break.

  One or two people gave a half-hearted clap.

  Clive, who was stationed at the bar, saluted with his gauzed arm. “Lovely!”

  I threw a tip in the brandy snifter on top of the piano beside a huge arrangement of white flowers.

  “Valentine!” my father hollered from across the room. “Play a song. Show that minstrel how it’s done.”

  There wasn’t much that affected my father on an emotional level, and his lack of reaction to Lucy’s death was proof of that. I gave him a tight smile, hoping he saw the daggers in my eyes. “I’m good, Dad.”

  I glanced at the pianist who was talking to the bartender, hoping he hadn’t heard my father’s remark. No luck. He gave my dad a peeved look, then disappeared through a door.

  “Go on,” my father persisted. “We need something to lighten the mood. Show them how good you are!”

  I cringed inside. Now, of all times, my father felt the need to demonstrate his lack of tact. I had to admit the pull was there. Once upon a time, I’d entertained thoughts of becoming a concert pianist or a music professor. I’d settled for playing professionally for a while, and at one time even made a decent living at weddings and in nightclubs. But I chose the beauty route for a lifelong career. Special requests still came my way. However, I mostly played for myself when I needed an escape, or the odd time at the retirement homes when I did hair.

  Bad enough my father was embarrassing me from the opposite side of the room, but I could also see my mother’s dating radar spinning. It wasn’t that my parents were uncaring in the wake of a brutal murder, but they had other concerns that involved me.

  I pretended to laugh at something Max said. He looked at me like I’d gone loco.

  “Play along.” I stared at him with wide eyes. “My mother’s on a dating mission, and if she sees I’m deep in conversation, maybe she’ll cease and desist.”

  Max peeked over his shoulder at my mother, and I whacked his arm. “Don’t look!”

  “It can’t be that bad.” He rubbed his arm, then ordered a sangria.

  I waited until the waitress was out of earshot. “Believe me, it is. Last time I went away with my parents, I wound up on a date with Dieter the Polka King.” I grimaced. “I even had to wear a dirndl.”

  “Think of the positive! You like fashion.”

  “Why is it you’re always so positive when it comes to my life?”

  He angled his head sweetly. “Because those amber eyes of yours reflect warmth and passion?”

  “Flattery’s not going to get you anywhere.”

  I put two fingers between my brows and was applying pressure when my mother marched to my side, unbothered that Max and I were in the middle of a heated discussion. “I’ve found the perfect man for you, dear.” The hysteria from Lucy’s death suddenly replaced with more important matters.

  When I didn’t jump for joy, she swung my stool around so fast I almost toppled to the floor. “Are you listening, Valentine?”

  Did I have a choice?

  The waitress brought Max his drink, and my father was in the background, going on about me playing the piano. Only now, everyone in the bar was chanting, “Go on! Go on!”

  My mother tipped my jaw back toward her. “I think Mr. Farooq is interested in you.”

  I blinked. “As in Kashi Farooq?”

  “Who else? Look at him over there, handing out his precious ‘Get Out of Town’ brooches. They’re quite beautiful, and he has such a way with people, getting their minds off tonight’s tragedy.”

  Hmm. Exactly what you’d expect a murderer to do. Now what was I to think?

  I glanced past my mother—and Max, who was giggling from behind her shoulder—and spied Kashi talking Tantig’s ear off. If I told my mother Kashi could be a possible murderer, she might forget this whole idea. Then again, I thought about my past experiences with her and her matchmaking. If anything, she’d put a positive spin on things. I wasn’t sure how, but she’d find a way. I cursed to myself, then silenced Max with my death glare.

  “Go on! Go on!” The chanting got louder, and despite Kashi’s efforts, I could see the aftershock of Lucy’s murder transforming the crowd from panic to frenzy.

  You came on this cruise because…? Because…? I didn’t know how to finish that thought except with the blatant answer: BECAUSE I’M AN IDIOT FOR ENTERING A DRAWING!

  I struggled to quiet my racing heart. I had to nip this dating idea in the bud before I tackled anything else. “Mom, Kashi hasn’t said more than two words to me.” I looked over again and spotted my great-aunt hand Kashi a Tic Tac. “If he’s interested in anybody, it’s Tantig.”

  My mother gave me a disgusted look. “Bite your tongue.”

  I charged on. “And what is it with him and the seating arrangements? First, I see him dining at your table, then the next day he’s floating somewhere else. And tonight, he was with yet another group. What is he? Mr. Free Rein?”

  My mother didn’t bat an eye. “Maybe the cruise line was making amends for his lost luggage.” She fumed. “Who cares about seating arrangements anyway? I’m talking lifetime arrangements.”

  There was no winning.

  “Go on! Go on!”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Max banged his sangria on the piano. “Will you play something already?”

  In desperation, I figured maybe playing the piano would distract the crowd from going mad. I had a history with dead bodies, after all. Surely, I could handle this.

  The bartender gave me a nod, which I took to mean I was free to perform. Swell. I moved onto the piano bench and waited for the pounding in my head to settle and my nerves to calm. Okay. If I was going to do this, I might as well do it right.

  I cracked my knuckles, put my fingers on the bottom of the keyboard, and played an arpeggio all the way up to the high notes. After I had everyone’s attention, I returned to Middle C and began tickling the ivories with the familiar intro to “New York, New York.” This got toes tapping and fingers snapping. By the end of the song, everyone but Tantig was on their feet, crooning the last words, “Newww Yooork.” I finished with a glissando, sweeping the back of my thumb from the high notes all the way down the keyboard.

  Midway through my slide, I looked up and saw Jock stride by the lounge with the captain, conferring about something. The murder? Last time I saw them they were heading into the galley. What did they learn there? Did they talk to the chef? The staff?

  The captain squeezed Jock’s shoulder and walked away. Jock cocked an ear toward the music, stepped into the lounge, and locked eyes with me.

  Adrenaline sped through my veins, and I began sweating behind my knees, wanting, for some reason, to impress him. Amidst that, my mind was still on the murder. I lost all concentration on my big
finish and almost swept my fingers off the keyboard. I slid back to the center of the bench and improvised the end of the song, hitting the last chord with command.

  I stood up from the piano, and everyone broke out in a cheer. Kashi waved a “Get Out of Town” brooch in the air, and my mother gave me an encouraging nod.

  “That wath lovely!” Clive slurred at me from the bar, swinging his glass in the air.

  My head was buzzing, and my legs were like jelly. I gave a gracious smile all around and staggered away from the bench, purposely avoiding Jock’s applause and heated stare.

  The pianist, who’d heard the last half of the song, sauntered back to the piano. “Show-off,” he muttered.

  Max scowled at him, snatched the tip I’d given him earlier out of the brandy snifter, and stuffed it back in my bag.

  I overlooked the pianist’s insult, turned a blind eye to Kashi and his “Get Out of Town” brooch, and couldn’t have cared less about my mother’s interference in my love life. I wasn’t even perturbed by my father’s lack of tact. He was smiling like a peacock as if he were the one who’d just played his heart out. What the hell. Let him have his moment.

  Truth was, the circumstances surrounding Lucy’s death hadn’t escaped me. In fact, it was weighing on me like a two-ton elephant. And what about what Jock and the captain had learned?

  The mood in the crowd had subdued, and now that Jock was in the room, I was glad to be out of the limelight. More importantly, this was my opportunity to question him about what he knew about the murder.

  Soft jazz sounds came from the piano, and I heaved a deep sigh. I looked back to where Jock had been standing. A minute ago, he was giving me his intense stare. Now he was gone. Poof. Up in smoke.

  I dashed to the entrance and looked right and left, my heart booming so loud I thought I’d explode. Where the heck did he go? His cabin? Since he hadn’t slept in the same cabin with Max the past two nights, I doubted he’d be heading there tonight either. What about Miss Romania? Right. I didn’t know where she was lodging, and I sure as hell didn’t care to find out.

  Why was I searching for Jock like a cat in heat? It just added to the pent-up frustration I already felt for the man. I got a hold of my raging hormones and gave myself a reality check. If I found him, I’d simply question him about Lucy’s murder. That’s what was paramount.

  I stepped back into the bar and gave it another scan. No Jock. It was useless guessing his whereabouts. It was even more useless letting it bother me. What made me think he’d tell me anything about Lucy’s murder anyway? Jock was a puzzle. Plain and simple. He might be my employee, but we both knew he was his own boss. Nothing I could say or do would ever change that. Soft prickles ripped along my nape at that, and I shook them away.

  Wherever he’d disappeared, I couldn’t sit back and play the lounge lizard all evening. I rubbed my aching forehead, hitched my bag over my shoulder, and called it a night.

  * * *

  I took one step outside the bar when Max leaped to my side.

  “Look!” He gestured down a long corridor. “Over there.”

  We put our heads together and watched Jock stride through a set of glass double doors. He stopped, looked at his cell phone, and put it to his ear. After a moment, he slid it in his back pocket, looked over his shoulder, and then vanished.

  “Looks like he doesn’t want to be followed,” Max said.

  Yeah. Probably heading to Miss Romania’s cabin.

  Just then, half a dozen young adults with bags over their shoulders raced by, popping their heads in and out of shops and doorways.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Max, following the group with my eyes.

  “There’s a beauty scavenger hunt tonight. Didn’t you see it in the package?”

  “Shoot. Yes, saw it and forgot about it. Anyway, we have our own hunt. Come on.” I forgot I wasn’t going to let Jock’s elusiveness bother me. I was only human, and I’d had enough cloak-and-dagger where he was concerned. On top of that, I admitted it—I was curious. Was he sleeping around, or was this urgency about what happened to Lucy?

  Max yanked me back. “Whoa, horsey. Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To catch a thief.”

  Max raised an eyebrow. “What did he steal? Your heart?”

  I tugged my arm away from Smartass, my mounting headache giving me an edge of indignation. “Maybe I’m sniffing out a skunk.”

  “For your information,” Max said, “I’m not interested in following that man. If you weren’t aware of it, Jock and I have a perfectly good work relationship. I’m not about to ruin that.” His voice got high and pitchy. “Have you seen the size of his muscles? He could squash me like Brutus squashed little ole Popeye.”

  I could tell Max was getting anxious. “Yes.” I used my talking-to-a-child voice. “But Popeye ate all his spinach, and he clobbered Brutus in the end.” I dragged him closer to the double doors where Jock had exited.

  “But look at all the beatings Popeye endured in the meantime.” Max wasn’t interested in playing the hero. Olive Oyl, maybe.

  I hauled us to a stop, my head about to explode from my headache, the turmoil of the night, and the family meddling I couldn’t seem to escape. “Okay already! I’m going to see what Jock’s up to. If you want to come, fine. If not, stop holding me back.”

  We stared at each other good and hard. It felt like I was back in elementary school in a staring contest. I’d never lost one of those competitions, and I wasn’t about to lose now.

  “Oh, fine!” Max jutted out his bottom lip.

  I didn’t wait for him to change his mind. I jerked him by the collar, and we sped through the double doors. We spotted Jock swaggering past the casino and movie theater. He strode forward, and we acted like double agents, creeping behind him, zipping in and out of alcoves, sliding along walls. We probably looked more like Abbott and Costello than semi-respected stylists, but no one seemed to think twice about what we were doing. Probably just looked like we were taking part in a scavenger hunt. At a T-intersection, Jock turned right and scouted out the pub. We loitered behind a women’s clothing rack on the corner.

  “This better be good,” Max whispered. “He’s taking us on quite the goose chase.”

  I crouched, pressing my bag to my side, thinking once again about Jock conferring with the captain. “It’ll be good, all right. There’s something going on around here and Lucy’s death is tied to it.”

  Max gaped at me. “How do you know all this?”

  “Instinct.” I swiveled my head back to the pub. “Do you see him?”

  Max wasn’t the least bit interested in the search. He plucked a scarf off the clothing rack and flung it around his neck, posing in the mirror. “What do you think?”

  Max wasn’t exactly a child with ADD, but he could get off topic quickly.

  I grimaced. “Am I keeping you from something?”

  “Look!” He pointed to a rack with shawls. “This wrap has sequins.”

  I snatched him by the scarf around his neck and yanked him down next to me. Jock ambled out of the pub, glanced our way, then quickened his pace toward the front of the ship.

  Max unwound himself from the scarf and tossed it back on the rack. “Any more ideas?” he huffed.

  “Shh.” I grabbed his hand, and we continued trailing Jock, staying a good chunk behind.

  Jock slowed by a room labeled Ice Sculpting. He put his head down like he was considering something, then turned sideways and scratched his jaw.

  We sucked in air and flattened into a doorway, hoping he wouldn’t turn around. This was one of those moments when I wished to be anywhere but here. Being discovered tracking Jock wasn’t exactly on my top-ten list of things to do. And what would I say if that happened? Nice weather we’re having? I was such an idiot. Couldn’t even come up with a good lie. But I knew he was involved in something. And what about Lucy? Whatever it was, I wasn’t about to give up.

  Jock did a quick study through the ice-scu
lpting room window, then swung open the door and strode inside.

  I had so much adrenaline pumping through me it seemed an eternity until the door clicked behind him. Finally, Max and I scurried to the same spot and squinted cheek to cheek through the glass.

  “Why’d he go in there?” he asked.

  “Beats me. With Lucy frozen in an ice sculpture, maybe he’s inquisitive about the process.” I hiccupped back trepidation at that thought. I’d been a nuisance earlier…and yesterday…and probably the day before that. Maybe he was researching ways to eliminate me.

  We stared in the window and saw a handful of people. They watched two men in white with shatterproof glasses and lumberjack tools shape chunks of ice into statues.

  Max marveled at the spectators. “Suddenly everyone’s interested in ice sculptures.”

  I stretched my neck. “True. But apart from the fascination, the whole scene looks as suspicious as a shopping spree at Neiman Marcus.” I scoured the whole room. “The only thing missing is Jock.”

  Max pressed his nose to the glass. “Nobody disappears into thin air. Where could he have gone?”

  “I don’t know. There’s a door at the right. Maybe he slipped through there.”

  He eyed the door. “Now what do we do?”

  “Why don’t you try the stairs?” Jock said from behind us.

  Max and I screamed and leaped a foot in the air.

  Jock put his arms around our shoulders in a friendly hold while we caught our breath. “You weren’t following me, were you?”

  I stuck out my chin as if we had every right to be there. “Why would we be following you? Just because you look like you know something about Lucy’s murder?”

  “Is that what you think?” He turned his gaze on Max.

  “Don’t look at me,” Max panted. “I’m only following Simon Says.”

  Jock nodded, a slight grin on his face meant for me. “And what is it you wish to know?”

  “Gee. Just everything. Who murdered her? When was she killed? Was there more than one person involved?”