Murder, Curlers, and Cruises

by Arlene McFarlane

  There was no time for chitchat. I grabbed her hand and whirled her around. Neither one of us spoke until we were safely inside an elevator, going up.

  “What’s going on?” she panted. “Why are you running?”

  I put my palm in her face while I caught my own breath.

  “And why was your name called on the speaker?”

  She obviously recuperated quicker than I did.

  “What happened to your hand? And why were you wearing a lampshade?”

  “Mom!” I gasped. “Let me have my heart attack here, will you?”

  She pressed her lips together and waited, which was quite a feat.

  “Okay.” I swallowed and collected my thoughts. If I told her I’d committed a B&E, she’d drop to her knees and ask God where she went wrong. All things considered, I thought I’d better modify my story.

  “I was taking part in one of the beauty cruise games—lampshade hide-and-seek. I didn’t expect anyone to be in front of me.” I gave an exaggerated whew. “Boy, are they going to be mad when they can’t find me.”

  She folded her arms. “You’re playing games while Tantig is missing?”

  “About that—”

  “Why are you wearing a cast?” She glared down at my hand. “I don’t see you for half a day, and the next time I do you have your hand in a cast.”

  “It’s not a cast. It’s a bandage. I got a few scrapes in the steam room.”

  “How does my daughter end up with scrapes from a steam room?” She looked around the empty elevator. “Somebody tell me! Mary Ubeniwitz has a steam room, and her skin looks lovely. You. You come out with bandages.”

  I had so many things on my mind I could hardly think straight. My mother grilling me about steam rooms and casts was the last straw. The elevator doors opened, and I click-clacked to the main lobby with her on my heels.

  “Where are you going now?”

  I stopped and spun around. “Mom, what are you doing on the ship? I thought you and Dad were going to shop in San Juan.”

  “What kind of person would I be, shopping and living it up when Tantig is missing? Your father went off by himself in search of cigars while I’ve been turning this boat upside down.” She put her hand to her forehead. “First there’s a murder. Now this. What if she fell overboard? Had a stroke? What if she was kidnapped?”

  “She wasn’t kidnapped,” I said, trying to calm her. “And I know for a fact she didn’t fall overboard. I ended up disembarking this morning to look for her in port. Security at the gangway told me Tantig had left the ship. Showed them her ID and everything. She must’ve found her way back on board because I saw her myself about an hour ago.”

  “You did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I couldn’t find you. If you had a cell phone, I could’ve reached you.” Never mind mine was in the cabin charging.

  “If you saw Tantig, where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She exhaled loudly. “You’re not making sense. Did you see her or not?”

  “Yes, but I sort of lost her. I think that’s why they’re paging me. They’ve probably found her.”

  “Why would they page you and not me? I’m responsible for her. It’s all my fault,” she said. “Tantig wasn’t keen on walking, but I made her go anyway.”

  “You were doing what you thought was best. Don’t beat yourself up.” I was a great one to talk. I couldn’t rid myself of the misguided guilt I felt over Lucy’s death. I sighed. “Let’s go to the purser’s desk. Tantig is probably there.”

  The corners of her lips turned down, and worry lines framed her eyes.

  “We’ll find her,” I said in a gentle voice.

  She swallowed back further conversation and tramped in my shadow.

  Minutes later, we arrived at the grand atrium that had the appeal of a glittering European plaza and spanned several decks. Perfume boutiques, diamond jewelers, a leather store, a wine-tasting salon, sushi bar, Internet center, bistro, bakery, and an art gallery were all encompassed in this huge plaza trimmed in gold. I gaped for several seconds like I’d landed in Oz. I seriously had to get my head examined for missing out on all this.

  My mother gave me a shove.

  “Huh?”

  She tilted her head toward a huge, ornate desk. “The purser?”

  I turned my back on the shops, found the purser, and gave him my room number and ID. Then I asked what the problem was.

  “Your friend is Max Martell, yes?” He held out the phone to me. “He’s in jail.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “How did you end up in jail?” I asked Max, phone tight to my ear.

  “Never mind that. What took you so long? I kept trying your cell phone.”

  “It was in my bag. It must’ve gotten switched off.”

  “Why’d you have it switched off?”

  “Gee, I’m sorry. I forgot I was supposed to rescue you from jail today. Next time I’ll let the battery run dead so I can be ready for your call.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  I rolled my eyes so far back I saw home. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “It’s a long story,” he said. “I’m lucky the warden’s letting me use the phone. He’s kind of cute in an ugly Billy Bob Thornton way.”

  My mother had her ear pressed to the backside of the phone. “Ask him if he has clean underwear.”

  I gave my mother a strange look and repositioned the phone to my other ear. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Do you need anything?”

  “No. Just get here!”

  I hung up and asked the purser for directions to the jail.

  “I’d better come with you,” my mother said. “You never know what kind of felons they have in jails down here. They steal your money and that’s not all.” She leaned in. “You know they do funny things to men, not to mention beatings and stabbings. Max is probably scared stiff being around those sickos.”

  “He sounds fine,” I said. “And the jails down here don’t have the monopoly on sickos. Sickos are everywhere.”

  “The sickos down here are on drugs, and they’re desperate for money.”

  “Mom, the sickos down here—” I clamped my mouth shut. Why in the world was I defending Puerto Rican sickos to my mother? I had better things to do with my time. Like make sure Tantig was okay once and for all. Find out more about Kashi. Call Twix. Bail Max out of jail.

  I left my mother behind and took a cab to Max’s holding cell. The ride there was not an experience I wished to replicate. The taxi resembled Fred Flintstone’s car with a big hole in the backseat floor. Every time we went over a bump, I braced myself, straddling the hole, afraid if the cab gave birth, I’d be the newborn.

  We finally arrived at the correctional facility, a four-story white building with a barbed wire fence wrapped around the entire yard. Mild deterrent in case an inmate had a hankering for Ben & Jerry’s ice cream in the middle of the night. The jail sent a chill down to my painted toenails, which I stared at inside my open-toed heels. My gaze traveled up my tanned legs and short flowered skirt. Perfect outfit for springing a criminal. I’d probably get arrested for indecent exposure. Boy, what I didn’t do for Max.

  The driver squealed to a stop, and I almost flew over the front seat. “Senorita want out here?”

  “Si. Gracias.” I thanked the Lord I was still in one piece, then handed over money.

  The inside of the jail, though old, had been updated. But fresh paint and stucco didn’t erase the overwhelming stagnant and oppressive smell. Vomit that hadn’t been eliminated. Urine that hadn’t been washed away.

  The plan was I’d go up to the front desk, ask to speak to Max, explain that this was all a mistake, and take Max back to the ship. I didn’t have a plan B.

  I noticed Billy Bob right away. He was leaning against a desk, talking with half a dozen other men in gray uniforms. He leered at me from his pockmarked face, then rose to his nearly six-foot height. Likely not too happy to be pu
lled back to work.

  Hiding my revulsion, I sent him a smile meant to look sincere, one that said I was an upstanding, polite American citizen. Even if I was trembling on the inside.

  I asked to speak to Max Martell, then waited an hour while Billy Bob and his cohorts consulted with each other in Spanish, grinned at me once in a while, and then came and went from sight. Everything but bring Max out or lead me to him. Beads of sweat stung my upper lip, and my patience wore thin. I asked again if I could speak to Max, but no one was in much of a hurry to honor my request.

  Finally, Billy Bob led me down a hall and into a small room furnished with a table, two chairs, a clock on the wall, and a threadbare couch that looked like it was home to a few cockroaches. I sat at the table, and a second later he ushered in Max.

  “What took you so long?” Max said when Billy Bob left the room.

  My impatience got the best of me, and I almost shouted my words. “They were asking for wallpaper suggestions! I don’t know what took so long! We’re in Puerto Rico. Everyone breathes in slow motion.”

  He pulled up a chair. “Have I got a story to tell you!”

  I sighed, not sure I was ready for one of Max’s stories. “You don’t seem too broken up that you’re in a Puerto Rican jail…with a bunch of sickos.”

  “You’re overreacting. They said I’d be released as soon as the paperwork was done.”

  “That could take until Christmas.”

  “Then you have lots of time to hear my story.”

  I sat back in my chair and folded my arms. “Okay. Shoot.”

  “Your arm!” he gasped. “What happened?”

  “I’ll save that story for marshmallows by the campfire. Let me hear yours first.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “Wild horses couldn’t keep me from hearing how you landed in jail.”

  He gave me a pointed look. “You know you’re starting to sound a lot like Mr. Long Arm of the Law.” He wriggled his tushy on the chair, refocusing. “Remember this morning when I came to hunt for gold? It’s true, Puerto Ricans make the best jewelry. Twenty-two-karat gold! You can’t buy twenty-two-karat back home.”

  I tried to suppress a loud yawn, but it got the better of me.

  “Anyway,” he said, tight-lipped at my interruption, “I came out of a jewelry store this afternoon and caught a glimpse of Molly and Polly tiptoeing into a florist shop with a big duffel bag.”

  Now he had my attention. I sat up, recalling my sighting this morning of the beach babes scurrying into a florist shop.

  “I was about to call them, but something held me back.”

  “What?”

  “A man with a gun.”

  “You got held up?”

  “Not exactly,” he said. “A few minutes before that, I was minding my own business, trotting along the counter in this one store, eyeing their elaborate selection of gold chains, earrings, and diamonds. Lovey, you should’ve seen the diamonds.”

  “Max! I hear shackles in the next room. Get on with it!”

  “I was pricing a gold M charm when this sweet, bumbling old lady lost part of her diamond necklace. It was dragging on the floor behind her, and then broke off entirely. I wouldn’t have normally reacted the way I did, but I thought it was Tantig, so I grabbed the necklace and rushed out into the street to give it to her, and that’s when nasty security came and stuck a gun in my ribs.”

  I shook my head, trying to make sense of his story. “They thought you were stealing?”

  “Yes. Can you believe it? And here I was being a good Samaritan, returning an elderly lady’s jewels.”

  “And it was then you realized the lady wasn’t Tantig.”

  “Yes. They handcuffed her and brought her back into the store. You should’ve seen the loot in her purse!”

  “And you explained all this to the police?”

  “Yes, when I finally had a chance to speak to someone who knew fluent English.” He leaned in. “Funny thing was, I’m sure it was the same lady I followed shuffling down the stairs last night.”

  “What stairs?”

  “On the deck. Remember? You were spying on Jock. I told you this morning I left you there because I thought I saw Tantig.”

  I mentally rolled my eyes at that scene and the memory of falling into the lifeboat moments later. But part of me wondered if this could’ve been the same woman tourists mistook for Tantig heading back to the ship earlier today. Heck, could she have been the lady disembarking this morning that gangway security said was Tantig? No. Couldn’t have been. Tantig had shown them her ID.

  “What about Molly and Polly?”

  He shrugged. “There was something fishy going on with them.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t them. Maybe you mistook them for two other blonds.”

  “Lovey, cataracts wouldn’t stop me from recognizing the bounce on those babes.”

  He had a point.

  “I can tell you this much. They were up to no good. They came back out of the florist shop a moment later with a black-haired, ponytailed guy, covered in tattoos. And they were without the duffel bag. Before the gun hit my back, I saw the guy count a wad of money and stuff it in his shirt pocket. Real slick.”

  “Maybe Molly and Polly just bought a huge bouquet of flowers, and he was making sure they didn’t cheat him.”

  “Maybe. But do you normally shake hands with your florist after you buy flowers?”

  “No.”

  “And does your florist look like a hitman?”

  I thought of the sweet elderly couple who owned Dilly’s Florist in Rueland. “No.” I grinned. “But you can’t base what you saw on the florist’s looks. Not everyone resembles Tom Hanks in Forrest Gump.”

  “If they’re selling flowers, maybe they should.”

  Uh-huh. I didn’t need to further the questioning. The tingles spreading across my shoulders were a good indication of what transpired between Molly, Polly, and the ponytailed man. I agreed with Max. There was more to what they were doing in port than buying flowers. But what was in the duffel bag? More money? More drugs?

  “Let’s get you out of here,” I said.

  “Can we make one teensy stop first?”

  * * *

  By the time we made our jailbreak, it was almost five. We raced back to the jewelry store so Max could purchase his gold charm before the ship took off without us.

  Thankful that everything had turned out, I led him to the ship’s gangway, half listening to his happy prattle, half thinking about today’s discoveries.

  “This is my best souvenir yet,” he said, head down, admiring his M.

  “It must be special.” I hiked up the walkway. “You haven’t noticed the water once.”

  He looked up, pale-faced. “Did you have to mention that?” He gripped my arm until it turned blue.

  “Sorry.” Darn. Where was my head? “Uh, Max? You’re squeezing my arm a bit tight.”

  He closed his eyes, legs quivering. “I can’t go forward. I can’t go back. They’ll have to sail without me.”

  “Come on,” I begged. “My feet are killing me. And we’re already late.”

  “I can’t!”

  “Look,” I said, “this hasn’t been the most amusing day of my life. I woke up in a spoon position in Jock’s bed with Jock as the ladle. I had another round with Romero—who showed up unannounced before you almost killed him. Then I discovered Tantig was missing, almost blinded Jock, learned Romero has a lover, had to endure another five minutes with Mr. Jaworski, was locked in a steam room, cut my hand, committed a felony, and I had to travel into a hot, sweaty Puerto Rican jail to save your ass. But not before I was leered at by Billy Bob Thornton. I know I’m forgetting stuff, but that’s the kind of day it’s been. Now, if you think I’m leaving you behind, think again!”

  The whole time I ranted I was dragging Max along the gangplank. By the time I finished my speech, we were safely inside the ship.

  “Romero has a lover?” Max turned pink again.
r />   “So I’ve been told.”

  “See? You should’ve jumped him the first minute you laid eyes on him. Honey, men like Romero don’t drop out of the rainforest every day. All that wild dark hair and thick lashes. And I’d kill to have a muscular body like his.”

  Max was perfectly toned in the body department, but he had to play the drama queen once a week.

  “Now see what’s happened?” he went on. “Some other woman has her hooks into him. And I bet she doesn’t have your eyes.”

  “I’m not interested anyway,” I lied. “I’ve got too much on my mind to worry about who Romero’s sleeping with.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Keep telling yourself that, and you’ll be fine.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Max pranced off to take in a live performance, and I found my parents on the lido deck with a hundred other passengers. They were standing amid spread-out deck chairs behind a roped-off circle staked with burning torches. A Jimmy Buffett tune played in the background, the smell of mesquite barbeque sauce filled the air, and all eyes were on the cruise director who stood in the ring, a megaphone in one hand, two foam swords in the other.

  I walked over to my mother and asked if Tantig had shown up.

  She gave her head a shake. “A few passengers thought they’d seen her, so I wanted to do one more lap around the ship before talking to the captain. Then I got trapped by this beach party, of all things, and Julie McCoy introducing a sword competition.”

  “Her name’s not Julie McCoy. Julie McCoy was on The Love Boat.”

  “It’s the only way I’ll remember her. And why did they take that show off the air? I loved that show. I had something to look forward to every Saturday night. Now we have reality TV. I have enough reality every day looking after your father and Tantig.” She clapped her mouth like she realized she shouldn’t have uttered that.

  I felt her pain. “And you haven’t spotted her?”

  “No. But since you did, I know she’s got to be here somewhere.”

  What worried me now was that I wondered whether the elderly lady I spotted in the dining room was actually Tantig. She got away so quickly, maybe it was a look-alike. A Tantig twin. Best not to alarm my mother any further. Tantig would show up. Probably when we weren’t looking. She just had to.