Beauty Queens and Cruises: A Humorous Cruise Ship Cozy Mystery (Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries Book 4)
Page 19
“He didn’t tell you where he was staying, or his name, or his job or… anything?”
“Nope!” she said brightly. “To be honest, I don’t care about those kinds of things. The captain told me to dance with the guests, so I danced with the guests. That’s me—a team player.”
“Have you seen him again since that night?”
“The captain? Isn’t he here?”
“No! Not the captain, the guest!”
“Oh, no. After the way he treated me, I don’t want to see him again.”
I gave up. I wasn’t getting anywhere with Kelly, and I was pretty sure she didn’t know anything useful to tell me.
“All right, let’s sit down and watch the show.”
Kelly was already scurrying off to the front row before I’d finished speaking. I didn’t plan to join her down there. I’d arrived with Cece and Sam, and they’d picked the ‘best’—in Cece’s words—seats. The ones right next to where I was standing, by the exit.
I stepped up to our row and sat down next to my two friends.
“Did she tell you anything useful?” asked Sam.
“Nope.”
“Knew it,” said Cece, laughing.
“Don’t you think she looks lonely?” said Sam, nodding toward the stage.
The single solitary cheerleader was doing her routine, and she did indeed look a little forlorn.
“She probably wants the whole football team to herself,” said Cece with a grin. “That’s why she’s on her own. One cheerleader and a whole football squad. That’s the dream, right?”
I smacked her on the arm.
We sat and watched the girls as they went through one routine after another. The cheerleader one was at least interesting; there was something fun to look at. The flutist had us nearly bored to tears. Not only did she struggle with the music, but the acoustics in the theater also made it hard to hear it.
After a dozen acts, we reached intermission. The highlight of the performances was, for me, Cece’s snarky comments, rather than the contestants themselves.
“Sweet. Beer o’clock. Let’s go,” said Cece, hopping to her feet.
I grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.
“That’s not it. We’re only halfway done. This is intermission.”
She gave me an incredulous look. “There’s more?”
“Lots more,” said Sam with a laugh.
“Kill me now,” said Cece, slumping back in her seat.
“Ooh look, they’re playing a video,” said Sam.
“It better have some cool explosions or some seriously hot se—”
“Shhh,” I said, grabbing Cece’s arm to silence her.
On the big screen which had dropped down, a behind-the-scenes series of short interview snippets with the contestants was beginning to play. And Kimberley Dawson, who wasn’t going to get to perform her talent due to being locked up in the brig, was staring out at us from the big screen.
She sat on a chair, staring wide-eyed directly into the camera, like she was baring her soul.
“One thing I’ve learned is that determination is everything. Every. Thing. And I should know—I learned it the hard way. A long time ago, I fell off a stage, and I nearly lost it all. But thanks to my coach, I decided not to give up. I decided to push on. I was determined, and now, I’ve won eight local contests and been a regional finalist twice. And my journey’s only just beginnin’. So I have just one word for y’all: determination, perseverance, and good ol’ stubbornness.”
“That’s three words,” said Sam, clearly annoyed by the error. Cece grumbled in agreement.
But I wasn’t worrying about her words. I was staring at her giant eyes, projected on the screen. She seemed so sincere.
I felt like she truly did believe in the pageant, just like she believed in the power of determination. Could she really have killed Diana? She basically just thanked her for giving her the determination she needed. Like being dumped by her was the push she had needed to succeed.
But it had to be Kimberly!
I leaned back in my chair and put my head back, staring at the ceiling while I thought.
“Is she catching flies?” said Cece to Sam. I ignored her.
“She’s thinking.”
“Thinking about how to catch flies maybe.”
I thought about everyone again. Rolf. Autumn. Kimberly. Ruth. Was I missing something? Or was Kimberly just a good actress?
I was jolted out of my thoughts when Cece punched my arm.
“Incoming.”
Coming up the center aisle toward us was Autumn Meadows. While the video was playing, she had a few minutes to herself before she would need to get back on the stage.
“Adrienne!”
“Uh-oh,” I said quietly to my friends.
“Where’s Ethan?”
“I don’t know. What’s up? Can I help you with anything?”
“I doubt it, but you’ll have to do. When I was getting ready for tonight, I realized someone went into my room and stole something incredibly valuable!”
Another break-in? They seemed to be endemic on this ship. Though to be fair, one of the ones I was aware of had been conducted by me and Cece.
“What is it? Is it something you could have just misplaced?”
“No! It’s my scrapbook. My special pageant scrapbook. It’s got everything in it. Everything! My whole career!”
“Are you sure you haven’t misplaced it? You had it last night, remember? Did you maybe put it down on your way back to your room?”
Autumn shook her head furiously.
“I wasn’t that drunk. Yes, I got it back to my room. It was there this morning. In fact, I had it just before the fire. But it’s not there now. Someone’s taken it, and it’s completely irreplaceable! I have to get it back!”
She was genuinely upset, and if what she said about having the book right up until the fire was true, then maybe it actually had been stolen.
“I’ll let Ethan know as soon as I see him. We’ll do our best to get it back for you. We really will.”
Autumn wrung her hands together nervously.
“I need it back. I need it. Please, Adrienne, get it back for me.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Autumn turned to look at the big screen, and when she saw what was on it her eyebrows shot up and she hurried back down the aisle toward the stage. Like most of the snippets, it was a young lady speaking earnest platitudes into the camera. The video montage must have been nearly over.
“Who would want an old scrapbook?” asked Cece in disbelief.
“I have no idea. And I’ve got enough to worry about without adding that into the mix.”
“Of course,” said Sam, “it’s probably connected, isn’t it? To everything else I mean. It would be a strange coincidence if it wasn’t.”
I nodded. She was right. Perhaps the scrapbook’s disappearance could turn into a positive; it might lead me to further clues. Once this event was over I’d begin to look into it, after consulting with Ethan anyway.
“Uh. Another video? I thought that was it?”
I looked up at the screen. From the way Autumn had hurried off, I hadn’t been expecting more video footage. I’d assumed the talent show was about to start again. But this video wasn’t like the last one.
“Is that…”
“Huh. Maybe this video will be interesting after all.” Cece rubbed her hands together and leaned forward.
On the screen, in giant moving clarity, was Autumn Meadows, stumbling down a deck while leaning on Martin’s arm. She was muttering profanities about her husband and Diana Penn as she did so.
“Arrrgh!” came a loud shriek. It was the real Autumn, not the one on video, and she was clutching her head and screaming down near the front of the stage. “Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!”
Luckily for Autumn, her embarrassment didn’t last too long. After about fifteen seconds of footage, the video abruptly switched. The next snippet was one of the pa
geant contestants. From the strange angle of the footage, it seemed to be a video that had been recorded surreptitiously, without her being aware.
“And that’s why Rolf should never have been a judge,” said the girl in the cheerleader outfit on the screen.
The video flickered, and then another pageant contender was on the screen, speaking to a girl off-camera.
“I don’t know what’s more fake, a Barbie doll or Melinda May. I think it’s Melinda.”
The video cut again to Kimberly Dawson.
“Diana just had more raw talent than Autumn.”
Next up was the girl I’d seen playing the harp.
“Did you see how fat Kimberly is? Her legs are as big as Rolf’s!”
“Oh my god, this is amazing,” said Cece by my side.
It was a disaster is what it was. Leaving Sam and Cece behind, I hurried down the aisle to the front of the room, while the unflattering, candid snippets of the girls gossiping and bad mouthing each other and the judges continued to play on the giant screen.
Some of the audience were laughing—I guess they were the customers who weren’t connected to the beauty pageant itself—but many more were sobbing. The girls who had either been caught out badmouthing someone else, or were the victims themselves.
When I was near the front, Ruth Allen emerged from the wings and made her way across the front of the stage. She had a triumphant look on her face, and tucked under her arm was a large, thick book that looked very familiar.
“You cow!” screamed Autumn as she clambered up onto the stage from the front, and began to rush Ruth.
Autumn dived for Ruth, arms outstretched, but the angry feminist twisted out of the way. Autumn rushed back to her feet, and grabbed at Ruth again.
The two of them began to swing at each other, neither really connecting with their punches and slaps.
“Give me that!” shouted an outraged Autumn, and moving lightning fast, she managed to snatch the scrapbook away from Ruth.
Momentarily defeated, Ruth jumped back and rushed to the microphone stand, where she snatched away the mic. She flicked the switch to turn it on as she ran.
“Down… with… pageants!” she said between halting breaths. On the far side of the stage was a grand piano, and when she reached it, she used the pianist’s stool as a step and clambered up on top of it. She stared out at the crowd from her elevated position, holding the microphone with two hands.
“This so-called talent show is a farce! The girls are being used! The only talent here is the corruption and depravity of the patriarchy that produced this disgusting travesty!” She paused for breath but didn’t move the microphone while she did so, filling the theater with noisy, gasping heavy breathing as she tried to refill her lungs. It sounded like something out of a horror movie.
“Stop… the pageant! Everyone, say it with me! Down with pageants! Down with pageants! Down with pageants!”
Ruth continued to chant into the mic, but no one joined in with her. I guess a beauty pageant audience probably wasn’t the best crowd to try and persuade to join in an impromptu protest against pageants.
Ethan seemed to appear out of nowhere, jumping up onto the stage in a single leap without even needing to use his hands. He hurried over to the piano to deal with the protestor.
While Ruth chanted, Autumn was sitting on the floor of the stage, snatching up photos which had fallen out of her scrapbook during the scuffle. I clambered up onto the stage to help her, while Ethan dealt with Ruth.
“Here, let me help you,” I said, crouching down next to her.
“Get away! This is your fault! It’s all your fault!”
“What? Me?” I asked, incredulous. Surely there was at least one other person on the stage more to blame than me. Namely the woman up on the piano.
“Of course it’s your fault! I knew it was Ruth that started the fire and stole my scrapbook, but you defended her! You said it couldn’t have been her because she was with you! Were you in it together? Are you a secret feminist?”
What do you say to that? I mean, I was a feminist, at least I thought so, but not at all in the same way Ruth Allen thought herself one. We were completely different.
“Go away. Get off my stage. Everything’s ruined now anyway. Just go.”
“I… I’m sorry,” I said in a small, humble voice.
I couldn’t understand how I could have messed up so badly. Had Ruth started the fire on some kind of a timer, so that she would have the excuse of being on the climbing wall when the alarm went off?
Now that I thought back to it, I didn’t think she’d been with me when I made it out onto the pool deck. She could have slipped away in the confusion and broken into Autumn’s cabin to steal the scrapbook.
I’d messed up—badly.
Chapter 28
The International Buffet served the best breakfast on the ship, but despite the delicious food, I wasn’t happy to be there. Not after what had happened the night before.
But needs must. And I was the social media manager, so I had to be there for the big ‘final breakfast’ for the beauty pageant contestants.
They had an entire section of the restaurant cordoned off for themselves, and they were seated at half a dozen large, circular tables. While they filled up their plates with food, I went around documenting the occasion by taking photos and filming a few little video clips.
I was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Everyone there was gossiping about what had happened the night before, and from overheard snippets, I could tell that some of it was about me and how everything was basically my fault.
The girls had seemed to divide themselves up into different factions, as a byproduct of the gossip-bombs that had been dropped and blasted across the theater the previous evening. Now they were divided into semi-warring factions, split up across the various dining tables.
About half an hour into the breakfast, when most people were sitting down at the tables with their plates of food having already conquered the buffet, Kimberley Dawson made her entrance.
She slipped into the room quietly but not unnoticed. The table nearest her stood up and began to clap. Then, so did the neighboring table. And then the rest of them.
Ethan had no choice but to release her after what had gone on the night before.
Everyone was now firmly convinced that Ruth Allen was to blame for the fire, and most of them conflated that guilt with the murder of Diana Penn as well. I wasn’t entirely convinced about that second part, though.
While they clapped and cheered for Kimberly, they just gave me dirty looks, sideways glances, and frowns. Except for a few who just decided not to look at me at all. Being required to be at an event which no one wants you at is beyond miserable.
“Oh, goodness me,” said Kimberly loudly.
The clapping and cheering stopped and everyone looked at her expectantly. They were all eager for a speech, and Kimberly was eager to give one.
“I think you may have seen my little video yesterday. Where I told you that determination was the key to success. I still believe that, and the fact that I’m here, today, is proof of it.”
Kimberly paused to smile at everyone while they clapped.
When the noise had died back down to a gentle chatter again, she continued. “Yesterday, like Nelson Mandela, I was locked up in solitary confinement. Like the Fugitive, like the count of Monte Cristo, I was framed for a crime I didn’t commit. Now I know what suffering is. But through determination and grit, I fought my way through it. There were moments when I thought I was never gonna be released. But did I give up? No! I was determined to make it through my imprisonment, and I did it!”
Oh, please. She was barely locked up for a couple of hours.
“I missed the talent show yesterday, so although I’ll still be competing, I won’t be eligible to win this competition. But I want to say to y’all—stay determined! One of you is gonna win, and you are gonna deserve it so, so much.
Let’s make this the best goshdarn pageant there ever was! Let’s make it one we’ll be tellin’ our own beauty-queen-grandchildren about twenty years from now! Let’s go, girls!”
And that earned her a standing ovation. I hid my face through most of it, using my phone as a shield. This also allowed me to capture most of it for posterity. I was going to try and find a few of the least cringe-worthy parts to post online later on.
With her impromptu speech over, Kimberly slowly walked across the room. Clarissa stood up and ran over to her, enveloping her in a hug. Grabbing her by the hand, she led her to a seat next to hers.
The hour-long breakfast lasted about a dozen years. At least that’s what it felt like. But finally, the interminable event was over and the girls were leaving the room to rehearse for the final part of the competition, where the overall winner would be crowned.
I’d gotten away without having to have a single conversation. At least until the last minute.
“Adrienne?”
Gritting my teeth, I turned around to face the music. And by music, I meant Autumn Meadows. I gave her a nervous, embarrassed smile.
“Are you going to let tonight’s finale go off without a hitch? Or are you going to break Ruth out of jail so she can terrorize us all again?”
“I’m sorry! I’m so, so, so, so sorry about yesterday. You’ve got to believe me. I really didn’t think Ruth would stoop so low.”
And I still didn’t think it was all that fair to blame me. I couldn’t control Ruth Allen. She was responsible for her own actions and I was neither her mother nor her boss. But the only people who seemed to see my point of view were Cece, Sam, and, thankfully, Ethan.
“After the way she’d behaved? You should have expected it.”
“Sorry,” I said again. I vowed to myself it would be the final time though. I’d done enough apologizing. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Yes, there is actually. Some of the photos from my scrapbook are still missing. I don’t know where they are. They could be in the theater, or in Ruth’s room, or backstage… but I want them back. They’re very dear to me.”
“Goodness, I hoped you had everything. I’ll see what I can find. What kind of pictures are they?”