Murder, Curlers, and Cruises

by Arlene McFarlane

  An hour later, I’d worn out the lady in the diamond store and tired out the salesclerk in the leather shop. But it had been fun. No one watching or judging or complaining. It was just me.

  I strolled past the bistro where Phyllis had dined Sunday night and finally ambled into the Internet center. The lighting was soft, and private computers sat on desks divided by partitions.

  I asked the lady in charge if I could use a computer. She led me behind a partition, typed in a code, and told me to let her know if I needed assistance. I thanked her and turned my attention to the screen.

  The drug-related murder outside Lucy’s shop had happened about a year ago. What did Sabrina say the salon was called? Shortcuts? Yes. I typed Murder outside Shortcuts Hair Salon, New York City, pressed ENTER, and waited.

  There it was, spread across a half page in the New York Post. DRUG RING CENTERED AROUND NEW YORK SALON. Interesting caption. Photograph and everything. I scanned the article about the drug dealer who was found dead and thought Lucy was implicated more strongly than Kashi had suggested. She wasn’t arrested for the murder, but this had to have hurt business. I now understood her reasons for wanting to win the contest.

  I looked at the picture again. Several people were lowering the dead man off the awning. I blinked and studied it closer. What? I zoomed in. There it was! The snake tattoo on a guy standing at the sidelines. Too many people in the picture made it hard to get a clear view, and enlarging the newsprint only created a blur. I checked the Post’s online site, but the picture wasn’t much clearer.

  I swallowed hard and fell against the back of my chair. Who was this tattooed man? And was this the same guy Kashi saw at Lucy’s door? Seemed like a huge reach. Lots of men had snake tattoos. And this shot was taken in New York City—hundreds of miles away from here. But something told me my suspicions weren’t so bizarre.

  If the tattooed man knew Lucy and had possibly been involved in the drug dealer’s murder, and there was a drug-smuggling ring on board the ship, who was to say he wasn’t here right now? Maybe I was grasping at straws, looking for something that wasn’t there.

  I was also suspicious of Molly and Polly’s dealings, and I wasn’t sure where that was leading either. But I had a gut feeling there was a connection in all this to Lucy’s death.

  If I could’ve trusted Romero, I’d have shared my findings and asked more questions. But I couldn’t trust him. And what about Jock? He knew something was going down. He was a master-at-arms after all. Why bother sharing any more thoughts with him? So he could have a wee laugh? The only answer was to keep digging on my own. One way or another I’d get to the bottom of this.

  * * *

  It was one o’clock by the time I’d finished my Internet search. I was hungry but wasn’t in the mood for the noisy buffet dining room. I ambled over to the bistro and ordered a bowl of squash soup with half a bacon and tomato sandwich, a peanut butter cookie, and pomegranate juice. The bistro was quiet. Only a couple staring starry-eyed at each other over a cappuccino, and a business suit reading the newspaper while devouring a bagel. I took a seat, happy to be in my little nook all by myself, eating my lunch, staring out at the plaza.

  I was blowing on my soup, gingerly swallowing each hot spoonful, when I spotted Sabrina. She walked by hand in hand with one of the sports jocks who’d been slugging back Coronas and laughing at football bloopers playing on the mega-screen that first day by the pool. He had perfectly cut brown hair, a square jaw, and he was dressed in shorts and a red football jersey with a white twenty-three across his chest. They kissed on the friendly side, then Sabrina hurried to the glass elevator, and the football guy moseyed into the bistro.

  I all but dunked my head in my soup as he strode by, not sure why I was acting silly. I guess I didn’t want him to think I’d been ogling them. Or staring at his biceps.

  The hunk ordered a BLT, chicken noodle soup, and a Mountain Dew, then sat at the next table, facing me. Lovely. Now I had nothing to look at but this six-foot-tall glorious creature. No book. No magazine. Not even a menu. And my cell phone was in my bag. Wouldn’t that look brilliant, whipping it out, looking all self-important, focused on some app. Nope. I had salt and pepper shakers and a feature card standing on my table. That would have to do.

  I munched on my sandwich and nabbed the card, feigning interest in the slice of Rocky Road cake that was on special for eight-ninety-five. Fascinating. I nodded and flipped the card over, reading the same thing on the other side.

  “Excuse me,” Football Guy said from his table. “May I borrow your salt?”

  “Salt? Be my guest.”

  He rose from his chair, approached the table, and reached out for the salt shaker. I went back to slurping my soup. Then I saw it. The snake tattoo on his arm.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I coughed and spit soup back in my bowl—all class—grabbing my napkin to wipe my mouth.

  Football Guy gave me a puzzled look. “You okay?”

  I coughed some more and fanned my face. “Soup’s…hot.”

  He sat down again, and I tried not to gawk at him. Who was this guy with the snake tattoo? And why had he kissed Sabrina? Was this the man who came to their room the last night Lucy was seen alive?

  I was boiling from the inside out, looking around as if I’d come face to face with a murderer, yet I couldn’t scream for help. Calm down. You said yourself lots of people have snake tattoos. Oodles of people. They were everywhere. Right. To date, I’d seen, um…exactly one, belonging to Football Guy.

  Maybe I had it all wrong. This guy came on board with a pack of jocks. I saw them by the pool. But maybe this guy wasn’t from the pack. Maybe he was here on his own, and he happened to wear a jersey, looking all big and hunky. And naturally, I placed him with the sports fanatics. But if he was Sabrina’s boyfriend, he had good reason to stop by their room the night of the party. Just a friendly celebration, right? Oh boy. This wasn’t helping. I was getting confused.

  “How ’bout them Patriots.” He salted his soup.

  What? Was he from Boston? “Yeah.” I smiled warily. “How ’bout ’em.” If he was going to talk football, I was outta here. I never caught on to the football craze, maybe because when I was in high school and most students were having fun cheering for the team, I was playing the clarinet in the marching band with the other nerds, hashing out “The Star Spangled Banner.”

  “First place in their conference,” he said. “Some would say they’re due for a beating.”

  “Yeah. Nothing like a good beating.”

  He gave me a strange smile and dug into his soup. Probably sorry he tried to make nice.

  That was fine with me. I didn’t need to talk sports to humor some jock, or worse, a possible murderer. At the moment, I could barely focus on anything but his tattoo. Once again, the New York photo came to mind. Was he the guy on the sidelines? Was he part of a drug ring? Had he killed Lucy?

  I tightened my jaw, deciding what to do with all this when I heard a commotion out in the corridor. I scooped up my cookie bag and drink and edged to the entrance of the bistro. I heard a breathy female sigh. Then two. I knew without looking, Hercules was approaching. I peeked to my left. Yep. Jock de Marco in the perfect flesh, sauntering down the corridor, leaving panting women in his wake.

  Just my luck. I didn’t feel like bumping into Jock or his harem. I ducked back into the bistro and stationed myself at a corner table until the coast was clear.

  Football Guy turned and watched my dance. Big deal. I came back in to eat my dessert. He gave a slight eye roll, then swiveled back to his lunch.

  I ripped open my pastry bag and chomped down on the peanut butter cookie. I chewed slowly and watched Jock walk by the bistro. He headed to the purser’s desk where the captain appeared from an inner room. They spoke for a minute with the purser, then leaned casually against the desk like they were waiting for something to happen.

  I poked my head up, trying to see all angles of the plaza. Who were they waiting for? Peop
le were moving about. Nothing looked suspicious. But something was about to happen. I was sure of it. I shoved more cookie into my mouth, crunching furiously, sitting on the edge of my seat.

  “Have a nice day,” Football Guy whispered over my shoulder.

  “Aah!” I dropped my cookie bag on the floor. No! He couldn’t leave. I needed to see where he was going. But what about Jock and the captain? Something was in the works. I couldn’t just get up and go.

  I caught my breath. “Uh, you too.” I picked up the bag and watched him walk out the bistro down the corridor from where Jock had just come.

  It took everything inside me to stay riveted to the table. I dug my heels in the ground, bit into my cookie, and resumed staring at Jock. A moment later, Molly and Polly bounced out of the leather store draped in brown leather jackets, matching shorts, and high-heeled boots that rode over their kneecaps to their thighs.

  A chunk of cookie dropped out of my mouth onto my lap. I ignored it because I was trying to swallow without choking. Earlier, I’d had on the exact jacket and had delicately handed it back to the store clerk when she told me it was on sale for three thousand dollars. And here Molly and Polly were each wearing one. Holy Doodle. Where’d they get their money?

  They wiggled their way over to Jock and Captain Madera. I didn’t like the possibilities forming in my mind. Had I missed something? Was this a double date? A proposition?

  I searched my mind for what I knew about Molly and Polly so far. They were from California, had very little wardrobe, and from what I’d just seen, expensive taste. In San Juan, Max and I had both witnessed them doing something that screamed illegal. Added to that, they’d trapped me in the steam room. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, but were they also responsible for the bag of Tic Tacs hanging on my cabin door? If so, what purpose did that serve?

  I tapped my fingers on the table, deep in thought. What did any of this have to do with Captain Madera and Jock? Maybe this rendezvous was related to the drug smuggling Jock had mentioned. He must’ve been onto them, though he certainly played dumb when I mentioned their names yesterday after the steam-room incident. Like he didn’t know who they were.

  I narrowed my eyes on Jock, waiting to see his next move.

  Captain Madera opened his arms to Molly and Polly. The girls were all smiles. Jock’s gaze dropped well below their smiles. Probably wondering which one floated better. His grin already told me he knew their cup sizes. Animal. Didn’t look like he was taking them in for questioning. Seemed like the furthest thing from his perverted mind.

  Hang on! Maybe Jock didn’t know about the San Juan drug deal. I glanced at my hand and scowled, recalling our talk in the infirmary. All I’d insinuated was that Molly and Polly were responsible for my hand being bandaged. I didn’t tell Jock I’d seen them on land or say anything about the drug deal. As usual, I was too busy defending my pride, such as it was. So what did all this mean? Was he cozying up to them because he didn’t believe my story? Or did he have his eye on them, trying to gather evidence?

  Captain Madera led Molly and Polly to the glass elevators. The ladies swayed enticingly in front of Jock, who followed, head down. I didn’t have to guess what part of the anatomy he was scrutinizing now.

  I threw my cookie bag in the garbage and tossed the juice bottle in the recycling. I lingered at the doorway, pretending to look at a stand loaded with coffee bags. Like I was a connoisseur. I did a mental shrug. Okay, so I didn’t drink the stuff. Didn’t mean I couldn’t start. I picked up a bag and sniffed the hickory-roasted beans. Then I gave a casual look toward the elevators.

  Captain Madera, Jock, and the girls stepped inside an elevator, and Polly placed her hand on Jock’s butt. What? I stepped toward them to get a better look, and pish. The coffee bag caught on the stand’s sharp edge, and an instant burst of hickory filled the air as coffee beans scattered on the floor. I looked up from the beans. Darn. The glass elevator doors closed, but not before Jock’s hard stare met mine. The elevator went up three floors, then disappeared.

  The lady from the bistro ran out with a broom and dustpan, giving me a tight smile.

  “Sorry.” I bent to help gather beans. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I could see you had more on your mind than just beans.”

  * * *

  I was still trying to process what this meeting between Jock and the captain and the girls was all about when my cell phone chirped in my bag. It was my mother, and she was frantic.

  “I just spoke to Tantig,” she cried, “but it wasn’t Tantig.”

  I found a quiet spot outside the bistro and turned my back on the noise. “What are you talking about?”

  “I told the captain I wanted to speak to Tantig today to make sure she was okay.”

  “And?”

  “When I heard her voice, I knew right away they had the wrong woman.”

  “What do you mean, wrong woman?” I replayed my conversation with Romero. He’d disclosed that Tantig had gotten into a bit of trouble on land. “Romero said Tantig was safe but dehydrated. If the woman wasn’t Tantig, who are they holding?”

  “Another woman! She stole Tantig’s purse and ID sometime yesterday morning and walked right off the ship with it. Probably no one paid much attention to an elderly lady shuffling about. Then, once she was on land, she tried to rob a jewelry store.”

  I straightened. The robbery Max had witnessed! This was likely the bit of trouble Romero was referring to. Even Max had mistaken the lady for Tantig. “What did the captain say?”

  “They’re still working with the police in San Juan. They think Tantig could still be on land.”

  I pressed my lips together. “How? If she didn’t have her purse or ID?”

  “I don’t know how!” my mother almost shouted into the phone.

  “Okay. Listen, I’ll start looking for her again.”

  “What’s the point, if she’s in San Juan?”

  “There’s a chance she could be on board, right?”

  “Yes, but it sounds unlikely.”

  “Won’t hurt to look then. Between them searching in San Juan, and us scouring the ship, we’ll find her.” I tried to put my mother at ease, then hung up and instantly envisioned the bag of Tic Tacs again.

  As much as I wanted to let that go, there was a reason they were placed on my door. And I was afraid that whoever had put them there had also taken Tantig. But if someone had kidnapped her, why would they have drawn attention to themselves by delivering mints? Unless it was some kind of warning. Warning for what, though? To stop looking for my great-aunt? To stop digging into Lucy’s murder? Were the two even linked? Up until a few minutes ago, we believed Tantig was back in San Juan. Did that factor into a potential kidnapper’s plan? Or were they waiting for that misunderstanding to be cleared up so they could issue another warning?

  I wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. Maybe it did sound like Tantig could’ve been kidnapped. But I was positive I’d seen her leave the dining room yesterday during the Mexican buffet. There was a distinct possibility she’d found a cozy place to hibernate, and we simply hadn’t discovered where that cozy spot was.

  I rubbed my arms, suddenly chilled from the air-conditioning. Why not take my search outside? I’d been indoors long enough today. Maybe the heat and sunshine would give me a new perspective.

  I started at one end of the ship and hurtled along the deck, showing Tantig’s picture to anyone who would give me the time of day. I snooped in and out of doors, ducking through alleyways, often coming back to where I started. I continued showing her picture to everyone I passed. I may have even asked some guests twice if they’d seen her. Several passengers showed genuine concern. Others gave me a put-out look like I was ruining their cruise. Far be it for me to spoil anyone’s vacation!

  Wiping my brow from heat and frustration, I walked by the pool and squinted from the sun’s reflection off the water. An old country tune hummed through the speakers, and people w
ere soaking up the last days of the cruise, splashing, lounging, and playing games.

  I spotted Max, lying in the shade, water wings on his arms, sunglasses on his nose, tall glass in hand, a stack of magazines by his side. I strolled over and dropped onto the foot of his lounge chair, tossing my braid over my shoulder.

  “Hey!” He bounced up with a start. “Where have you been?”

  “Looking for Tantig.” I grabbed the glass out of his hand and took a swig. “Mmm, what is this?”

  “Fruit punch.”

  I smacked my lips and took another sip. “Yum.”

  He plucked the glass out of my hand. “You’ve had enough.”

  I huffed. “You wouldn’t give a dying person a drink of punch.”

  “A dying person, yes. You, no.” He sipped his drink and set it on the magazine table away from my reach. “And what do you mean you’re looking for Tantig? I thought you said security saw her get off the ship in San Juan yesterday morning. Didn’t they find her?”

  “It’s a long story. First, they thought they found her. Then they realized they hadn’t.”

  Max looked confused.

  “Remember that woman trailing diamonds out of the jewelry store yesterday? Ends up she stole more than just diamonds. She stole Tantig’s purse and ID from the ship.”

  Max sat up. “What does that mean?”

  “For one thing, that woman was a thief. For another, I’m back to searching for Tantig.”

  I looked around the pool and saw Phyllis at the bar, making wild hand gestures to Clive. She was wearing a scarf-type hat spilling with fruit, and a sarong and matching bikini top splashed with every color under the rainbow. Her stomach was Eskimo-white, her shoulders and arms, devil-red. “What’s Phyllis doing talking to Clive?”

  Max glanced at the bar. “You mean Carmen Miranda? She thinks he has something to do with Tantig’s disappearance.”

  “Come again? I just told you she’s officially missing.”

  “Phyllis has obviously believed it all along. Don’t ask me to figure her out. You hired her.”