Cruise Millions: A Humorous Cruise Ship Cozy Mystery (Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries Book 6)

by A. R. Winters

  “And she was killed with cleaning chemicals?”

  I nodded at Paul. “That’s right. That’s probably why it looked like a suicide. Apparently, it was a pretty common method in Japan a few years ago.”

  “Yikes,” he said. “I’d hate for this to impact my Claim Your Million event.”

  Why did so many people put money above everything else?

  “Not for my sake, you understand,” he clarified, “but for the participants. For most of them, this is the most important week of their lives. The highlight of their time on planet Earth. I’d hate for it to be ruined by this—” he waved his hand in a kind of rolling motion “—unfortunate event.”

  Right. Think of the poor participants. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the possibility of issuing refunds if the event was canceled.

  “We’ll stay quiet about what happened. It doesn’t help anyone,” I said to him. “Right, Kelly?”

  “Yep! The event must go on!” Kelly raised a fist in the air in a sign of determination.

  “Do you think they’ll catch him soon?” asked Paul. “Or should I be looking over my shoulder?” The millionaire investor theatrically made a point of turning his head and looking out to the ocean.

  “What makes you think it’s a him?”

  “Most murderers are, aren’t they?”

  “Not necessarily in my experience,” I told him.

  “Your experience? Surely you don’t have experience with murderers, do you? Aren’t you the social media manager of this cruise ship, not a murder investigator?”

  I shuffled my feet where I stood.

  Before I could reply, Kelly jumped in. “We did a murder mystery cruise not long ago. It was very fun.”

  Kelly was right. There was no need to tell Paul about any of the additional unfortunate incidents that had occurred.

  “Oh, I see. I thought you meant there’d been other murders aboard the ship!” Paul laughed at the very idea of it. Little did he know. “I hope you catch this cleaning chemical killer.”

  “I’m sure we will,” said Kelly. “It’s probably just a matter of figuring out who had access to chemicals and a gas mask. Isn’t that right, Adrienne?”

  Before I could respond, we were interrupted. The door I had been waiting by finally opened, and out stepped Cece.

  The timing couldn’t have been any worse.

  “Adrienne!” called Cece, the distress in her voice apparent.

  As she exited the ship’s interior, I could tell from her expression that things hadn’t gone as smoothly as we had assumed.

  “Oh, hello!” she said, her frown morphing into a pretty convincing smile as she noticed who I was standing with.

  She hadn’t forgotten about claiming her million yet!

  “Come on, Paul. Let’s get you to the conference suite,” said Kelly.

  Her eyebrows had shot up when she saw Cece right after talking about the killer having access to chemicals and masks.

  Paul Parker’s eyes narrowed. “Hey. Don’t I know you?”

  He ran his eyes up and down Cece, as if imagining her back in the housekeeper’s uniform she’d been wearing that first day in Kelly’s office.

  Cece turned up the wattage on her smile. “Sure! I’m the Lemony Liquid Gold girl! I’m the one with those fabulous cleaning products!”

  I grabbed Cece by the arm. “Sorry, we’ve got to go,” I said to Kelly and Paul. “Don’t we, Cece?”

  There was a brief tug of resistance to my grip before Cece conceded that I probably had a good reason for taking her away from them.

  “Right! See you later… with my millions!” Cece finished speaking with a girlish giggle I’d never heard from her before. Her normal laugh wasn’t exactly manly, but it was deeper and heartier than a lot of women’s. It definitely wasn’t a delicate little titter.

  As Kelly whisked Paul away in one direction, I led Cece in the other, toward the Boulevard Café. It was only a short walk away and we didn’t speak until we arrived there.

  I greeted Minnie, the barista, and ordered us two coffees.

  “Make mine Irish,” yelled Cece, and I saw Minnie’s shoulders roll with laughter as she went to make our drinks orders.

  “Cece,” I said, “just before you came outside, Kelly said to Paul that the killer was probably someone who had access to the cleaning supplies and the gas masks. And then you appeared right on cue. He already knows you’re a housekeeper from the first day.”

  Cece clutched her head in her hands. “Oh no. Why did Kelly have to go and say that? Now everyone’s going to think I did it.”

  “She didn’t know you were about to show up. I think she was trying to reassure Paul that it wasn’t connected to him.” I rubbed the top of one of Cece’s hands, which were now on the table in front of her. “How’d it go with Ethan?”

  “Terrible.”

  “Terrible? What happened?” I asked, shocked.

  “He thinks I did it! I’m sure he does!”

  “Did he actually say that?” I couldn’t believe it. He was just following protocol, wasn’t he?

  “He said I had access to the housekeeping supplies. And I had a motive because Lesley’s stupid product was similar to mine.”

  “Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you did anything. He has to interview every suspect. It’s part of the process. He doesn’t have a choice.”

  Cece lowered her head just above the table, and then she let her forehead drop down against it with a resounding thunk.

  “This was supposed to be my vacation. My ticket to millions. Instead, I’m going to be framed for murder, aren’t I?”

  I couldn’t stand to see my friend so down. Apart from the fact that she was miserable, she’d probably spent a good chunk of her savings to go on this cruise.

  “No way! That’s not going to happen. No one’s going to frame you for murder.”

  “How? If you lay out the facts like Ethan did, it sure seems like I killed Lesley.”

  “Nope.” I shook my head vehemently. “I don’t care what it seems like. I’m going to find out who killed Lesley Stein and clear your name. Okay?”

  Cece leaned back in her chair, her face only slightly lightened by my words. “How are you going to do that?”

  Good question.

  “I guess the way I usually do. By annoying everyone on the ship until one of them confesses.”

  Finally, Cece laughed again. It was a soft laugh that only lasted for about half a second, but it was an improvement.

  I leaned forward. “Is there anything you can tell me that might help?”

  Before Cece could answer, Minnie appeared with our drinks. For me, there was a cappuccino in a big white mug, and for Cece what looked like a latte in a tall glass, but with the strong scent of whiskey wafting from it. As always, Minnie wore an infectious smile as she arrived, placing the drinks down in front of us with steady hands.

  “Here you go, girls. A fine afternoon, isn’t it?” she said, peering up at the blue sky above us.

  “For some,” said Cece.

  Minnie reached over and squeezed Cece’s shoulder. “Whatever’s bothering you, don’t let it get to you. In twenty years’ time, you’ll look back and laugh. Trust me on that.” She patted Cece a couple of times on the back and left us.

  “I won’t be laughing in twenty years if I’m in jail,” said Cece as soon as Minnie was gone.

  “Don’t say that!” I said, squeezing her hand. “I’m sure you would have gone to the electric chair by then.”

  “Adrienne!” she screeched, but when I looked into her eyes they were twinkling again with amusement. It was dark humor, sure, but I knew it would work on her.

  “But you should obviously try and avoid that fate. Let’s figure out what we know and see if we can’t find out who the murderer is.”

  “Sure. Oh! I thought of a reason why it couldn’t be me!” said Cece. “A kind of alibi? Or whatever you call it when it makes someone an unlikely suspect.” She picked up her glass of Irish
coffee and took a big sip.

  “Go on…”

  Cece tapped the glass with the nails of her right hand. “Ethan said there was a half-empty bottle of champagne and a single wine glass in the room, but he thinks it’s weird that someone would be drinking champagne alone. So it couldn’t have been me.”

  “How do you figure?”

  Cece took another gulp of her alcoholic coffee. “I thought you knew me!”

  “Just tell me.”

  “Well, one, I don’t drink fancy wine or anything like it. I drink whiskey, tequila, and beer.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh imagining how that would play out in court.

  “You would if someone else was paying.”

  Cece glared at me, knowing I was right. “Yeah, whatever. And anyway, the other reason is the bottle was half-empty. There’s no way I would have wasted it. I’d have drunk it or brought it back to my room!”

  “Now that convinces me.”

  “Are you saying you didn’t believe me before?” Cece squinted at me.

  “No way. That’s just like… an extra bit of evidence in your favor. I’m not sure it would stand up before a judge, though. What else do we know?”

  Cece leaned back in her chair, and I saw her shoulders slump a little. This was actually a good sign, since they’d been tense when she came out of the ship earlier. But I wasn’t sure if it was the whiskey in her coffee or my amazing company that was getting her to finally relax.

  “You’re the detective. Go detect.”

  “I am not a detective. But is there anything else you know about Lesley? Did you see her again after the fight yesterday?”

  Cece shot up in her chair excitedly. “Yes! I forgot.” She paused, her forehead wrinkling. “I don’t think it’s helpful, though.”

  “Oh? What did you see?”

  “Yesterday evening I kind of… did something I wasn’t supposed to.”

  “Murder Lesley?” I asked with a grin.

  Cece kicked me under the table surprisingly hard, and I leaned down to rub my shin.

  “No. I saw one of the investors—Sam Westbrook was his name, right? I saw him walking around and I figured, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I tried to speak to him, but he just said he was really busy and didn’t have time to talk to me.”

  “I guess he’s not supposed to speak to the contestants before the big pitch day. It wouldn’t be fair for the other contestants.”

  “Well, life’s not fair, is it?” said Cece in an accusatory tone. Though that may have been true, it wasn’t my fault that life wasn’t fair. “And anyway, that wasn’t it. I just so happened to see him again about half an hour later—but this time, he was talking to Lesley!”

  I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table and my chin on top of my clasped hands. This could be interesting. “What were they talking about?”

  “Hey, I’m not an eavesdropper—”

  “You mean they were too far away to hear?”

  “Maybe that was it. But I saw Lesley give Sam a bottle of her stupid product.”

  “That’s something. Looks like they were both breaking the rules there.”

  “Yep. So what do you think? Maybe he hated her cleaning product so much he murdered her?”

  I nearly spat out the coffee I was sipping. I’d heard a few interesting murder motives in my time, but killing someone because your countertops didn’t sparkle was a new one.

  “Umm, that would be a first. But he might be able to give us some useful information. I think I’d better have a talk with him. See what I can find out.”

  “Good. Do you want to take a bottle of my Lemony Liquid Gold with you? Just in case he’s looking for a cleaning product from someone who isn’t dead?”

  “Right after your competition has been murdered? I think that might look pretty bad for your case,” I said with a grin.

  Cece downed the rest of her coffee and put the now empty glass down onto the table with a heavy thump.

  “It’s not my fault she got murdered. That’s just not fair!”

  “Like you said, life’s not fair.”

  And so Cece sent me on my way to find Sam Westbrook with another kick under the table, this time getting my other shin.

  Chapter Twelve

  I took care of a few more work-related tasks before I tracked down Stan Westbrook. When I finally found him, it was just before sunset and he was enjoying the happy hour at Hemingway’s tropical bar.

  The drinking spot was located outside, next to the Lagoon Pool, the ship’s largest and most popular pool. The bar and its furniture were made of bamboo and palm, and it looked like the kind of place you would find on the beach of a sandy tropical island.

  Stan was seated on a bamboo barstool with a giant red cocktail, complete with not one but two little umbrellas in front of him. He was leaning over the bar, drinking through a straw so he didn’t even need to lift up the glass. Next to his drink was a manila folder, opened to a white piece of paper covered in scrawled writing.

  “Hi,” I said with a smile, trying to look friendly. I didn’t want to come across like a detective. No one enjoys being investigated for murder. I was just going to be the friendly Swan rep, there for a chat.

  He beamed back at me as soon as he saw me, and when recognition flashed across his face, his faltered. He figured out that I wasn’t a random girl so enamored by the slightly overweight middle-aged man that I couldn’t leave him alone.

  He ran a hand through his silver hair while the other closed the folder next to him. “Here. Have a seat, if you like. Cocktail?”

  I climbed up onto the barstool next to him. “Oh, I’d better not. I’m working.”

  “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said, the flirtatious undertones loud and clear.

  “One orange juice, please,” I called across the bar to the young blonde bartender with the half-unbuttoned tropical shirt who usually worked here.

  With a lift of his chin and a flash of pearly teeth, he went to fix my drink. He’d served me many times before and knew exactly who I was. When I thought about it, I realized it had often been in the company of older men. I hoped he hadn’t gotten the wrong impression about me.

  “How’s the event going? It’s interesting to hear about it from the perspective of the investor. I was thinking I could write a little piece about you? Not to be published until after the contestants find out who you are, of course.”

  Stan nodded. “I guess that’d be okay. The event’s… well, the event is fine. It’s the contestants who are…” He didn’t want to finish what he was saying, presumably because it was less than favorable.

  “Are they a bit overzealous?”

  “You could say that. A less charitable person would call them borderline insane. They’re all trying to find out who the investors are, even though they’re not supposed to. A couple have sussed me out already. Like that lady who was dressed up as a housekeeper when we had that first meeting? Cece Lemon, was it? Whatever. The only good thing is that they’re all so scared of the competition they’re not gossiping about it publicly. They don’t want anyone else to get a leg-up on them.”

  “Oh, wow.” Cece Lemon! It took everything in me not to laugh. I leaned in closer, dropping my voice. “Did you hear about the unfortunate event?”

  Stan leaned toward me. “It’s supposed to be kept quiet, right?”

  I nodded at him. “Swan doesn’t want to upset the other passengers. They’ve paid good money for a relaxing cruise.” I paused to consider. “Or a… whatever the Claim Your Million cruise is supposed to be. An energetic cruise? Anyway, Swan doesn’t want their experience to be ruined by someone’s death, so we’re trying to keep it as quiet as possible for the time being.”

  “Right. Good thinking. Funny enough, the woman who died was the other one who figured out I was one of the investors.”

  “Is that so?” Of course I knew that, having seen them talking together at the first event, but I wanted to see what he would tell me on his own
.

  The bartender returned and placed a tall glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice in front of me with another one of his killer smiles. I thanked him and he sauntered away, down the bar, whistling as he did so.

  “Yeah. Guess my secret is now a little safer, right? One down, one to go?” he paused to laugh. When he saw I wasn’t joining in, he stopped. “Sorry. Bad taste, I know. But I often find humor can lighten a tragedy.”

  “Right,” I said noncommittally. There was a time and a place for everything, and right now was neither the time nor the place to be joking about Lesley’s death. It was totally different when I had joked with Cece; I just couldn’t quite put my finger on why.

  “It must have been a shock, since she was one of the only contestants you knew. Did you like her product?”

  Stan cocked his head at me. “I didn’t know her. I just spoke to her for a few seconds that first morning. Did someone tell you I knew her?”

  Oh, that was interesting. I had seen him sniffing her cleaning product myself, and then Cece had told me she saw them talking again the evening she died. But now he denied knowing her.

  “I thought I saw you smelling her cleaning solution,” I said.

  Stan seemed to be thinking. “Oh… yes. I suppose I did. You’re right. She seemed friendly with the Alejandro. I thought he might have been interested in investing in her product.”

  I wondered whether he was trying to divert my interest, or if he actually giving me some useful information. I’d have to look into Alejandro more.

  “Of course,” said Stan after further consideration, “I would be a much more suitable investor.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “Because I’m Stan the Man.”

  I looked at him, urging him to continue. Stan the Man meant nothing to me.

  “Stan the Man. You don’t know? Where are you from?”

  “Nebraska.”

  “That would explain it. If you were from southwestern Kentucky, you’d know exactly who I was. Well, not all of southwestern Kentucky, but the important bits.”

  “The important bits?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Where I’m from! I have a cleaning company, and everyone knows Stan the Man is the cleaner who can. It’s my catchphrase on all my ads. I made my fortune in the cleaning business. That’s why I would have been a much more suitable investor for a cleaning product. I don’t know why she would even bother with Alejandro. He’s a real estate guy. All they know about is buying and selling property, not maintaining it like I do.”