Death on the Wind

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  Opening the door, she stared in confusion at the empty hallway. A strawberry margarita sat on the floor with a note tucked underneath. Her enthusiasm for the dinner rushed back in a single wave. How thoughtful of Leander to send her a drink.

  Picking it up, she flipped the note open. A treat for you and Chica.

  She didn’t think she’d mentioned that Chica had slurped up the rest of her margarita that morning, but she must have. Setting it on a low table in the cabin, Kitty went to find her clutch. She hated little purses because she felt unprepared without a book, but some evenings demanded the sacrifice.

  As she came back into the cabin, she found Chica in front of the margarita, nose almost in the glass.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Kitty snatched it up. “I don’t need any red dog barf on the carpet. Especially since we’ve got a visitor coming.” Suddenly, the idea of Leander coming back to her room after dinner made her mouth dry. Maybe she should have asked for the security officer.

  She leaned down to rub Chica’s ears and Chica barked, so close that Kitty experienced the dog’s breath like a hot wind.

  “No barking,” she said firmly. That was all she needed: a complaint from all her neighbors.

  Kitty wondered if Chica had developed her own addiction to the drink. “You can’t have any. And remind me to make an appointment with the vet for a dental cleaning. Yuck.” She set it on the dresser, out of Chica’s reach.

  Chica went to sit in front of it, but instead of facing the margarita, she faced Kitty. She growled low in her throat, a warning.

  “I just don’t― Oh.” Chica wasn’t trying to drink the margarita, but to keep Kitty from it.

  There was a knock at the door and Kitty jumped back, as if the margarita had made a noise. Crossing the room, she couldn’t help glancing back at the bright red drink. It looked so cheerful, so innocent.

  She opened the door to Leander. He was wearing a tuxedo and the part of her brain not preoccupied with dying a terrible death by poisoned margarita managed to appreciate the effect. She had always loved a man in a suit, and a man in a tux was right up her alley.

  “Wow. You look amaz―”

  “I think someone just tried to kill me,” she blurted.

  Leander looked around the room, then stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He was holding a small black bag which he set down before asking, “How?”

  Kitty pointed to the drink. “Chica won’t let me have it.”

  To his credit, he didn’t raise an eyebrow. Striding across the room, he peered into the glass, then sniffed it. “Who brought it?”

  “I didn’t see. There was a knock, and it was in front of the door with this note.” She handed it to him. “I thought it was from you.” She didn’t even know if that was a thing. She’d just assumed.

  He frowned down at the little piece of paper. Kitty hoped that casual dinner dates sent each other drinks, and she hadn’t just outed herself as being completely infatuated with the man.

  Leander took out his phone and snapped several pictures of the drink and the note. “There should be a CCTV recording. Every hallway is monitored. Unless…”

  She followed him back out to the hallway. The small, black dome in the hallway had been sprayed with something, covering it completely and dripping down on the carpet.

  Leander knelt down and touched a finger to the substance. He sniffed it, and frowned. “Smells like coconut.”

  “Not your favorite,” Kitty said, remembering a conversation they’d had months ago. It was a senseless comment and not helpful at all. She was relieved when he smiled at her.

  “No. Not my favorite.”

  Kitty peered at the camera. The surface looked almost orange tinted. “It’s spray tan. The…” She didn’t want to say the word. There was a murderer after her and it chilled her to the bone. “The person, his face could still show up on the tape,” she lifted her arm toward the security camera, “unless he sprayed it with his back to it.” She turned, trying to spray an imaginary can behind her. “Impossible.”

  He stood up and took several photographs of the vandalism. “You’re right. But I’m not sure it’s a man.”

  “That knife was thrown from at least twenty feet away.” Kitty flexed her biceps and poked at the muscle, frowning. “I’m not weak and I don’t think I could get a knife to stick like that.”

  “Maybe. Probably more likely a man who stole some spray tan.” Leander looked down the hallway. “I wish there was a way to keep you safe while ferreting out this sick person, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to catch him in the act.”

  The act of trying to kill me. Kitty rubbed her bare arms and nodded. But was she the only target? “You didn’t get a drink, did you?”

  “Not unless it arrived in the last few minutes,” Leander said, taking out his cell phone.

  Moments later, Jim McCallister was back, this time with a face like thunder. He had two officers in two and a fingerprinting kit on hand.

  “Attempted murder? Not on my ship,” he muttered. He watched as a security guard worked on carefully removing the drink and cleaning the camera. Turning to Kitty, he said, “You can’t stay here tonight. You should be somewhere secure.”

  “Oh, it’s fine. Leander is staying with me.” Kitty felt suddenly awkward.

  Jim didn’t betray anything by his expression. “Good.”

  As they headed to dinner, Kitty glanced at Leander and sighed. “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “I’m sure this wasn’t the way you wanted to spend your evening.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment. The elevator was opening on their floor and he ran to catch the door. It was filled with passengers in similarly fancy clothing and as Kitty stepped inside, she had the strange feeling of moving from one world to another. Maybe the attempts on her life were all a misunderstanding and she should really just focus on having a wonderful night out with Leander. Of course that was nonsense but she desperately wanted to believe it for a moment.

  The passengers moved aside as Chica followed them into the elevator. Kitty noted a few expressions of confusion and alarm. She understood. Chica was a very large dog and nobody liked a coating of dog hair on the evening gown. Leander must have noticed the same thing because he shifted so that Chica was between them.

  Kitty smiled up at him. You couldn’t help but like a man who didn’t mind a little dog hair on his tux.

  He held her gaze, then signed, “You said this wasn’t the way I wanted to spend the evening.”

  Sometimes she forgot he could sign and every time he did, it was as if he had revealed something special about himself. Even though some of the elevator passengers were glancing their way, she signed back, “Yes. I’m sorry for―”

  “Don’t be. I’m just where I wanted to be. With you.”

  “Oh,” she said, at a loss for words. Chica looked up between them, tongue lolling. As the elevator opened and a few passengers exited, Kitty glimpsed her face in the mirrored doors. She looked surprised, pink-cheeked, and happy. She knew it was ridiculous to be grinning like a goofball when someone was determined to kill her, but there it was.

  The next time the elevator opened it was to the top floor. They, along with a dozen other people, made their way toward the formal dining room at the front of the ship. Kitty looked out at the moonlight on the water and the stars in the sky. It was a perfect night. Nothing could spoil it.

  Except these three, Kitty thought as Zoe, Reagan, and Lacy appeared in front of them. They were dressed in matching pale pink dresses that ended about mid-thigh. It reminded her of bridesmaids’ dresses. They only needed a few more yards of material. Duke looked handsome with a little bowtie around his furry black neck, and Tink would have been adorable if she hadn’t been growling. She bared her tiny teeth at Chica, who ignored her as a good guide dog should.

  “How are you all doing?” Kitty asked, being sure to speak and sign at the same time. She wanted to keep Leander’s ability a
secret as long as she could. He hadn’t seen anything yet, but it was still possible that he might catch some conversation that he wasn’t meant to see. “This must be really hard for you.”

  Reagan nodded, brushing back her blond hair. “We decided that we should simply go on with the vacation. That’s the way Heather would have wanted it.”

  “There’s nothing we can do right now, anyway,” Lacy said. “Her dad is sending someone down but they won’t get here until tomorrow. Might as well enj―.” She cleared her throat and fiddled with Tink’s bow. “Carry on, I mean. Might as well carry on as best we can. And how are you? I bet you feel somehow responsible.”

  “I― not really. I wish I could have prevented it, but I don’t feel responsible.” A rush of indignation went through her. The person responsible was the killer, and the person who had paid him to kill.

  Zoe was silent and Kitty thought her eyes looked slightly red. Duke sat quietly, in a somber mood as well. He made no effort to greet Chica.

  “Where’s our table?” Lacy asked.

  “Oh, you should have received a note in your cabin giving your table number. We’ll be sitting with Jorge tonight.”

  Reagan smiled slowly. “Actually, I meant our table. Jorge is sitting at the captain’s table, and he asked our group to join him because of our loss this morning. Won’t this be fun?” Her expression suggested that she really didn’t think it would be.

  Zoe shrugged. “I don’t know why we had to come, though. We just got snacks from the kitchen, earlier.”

  Leander glanced up as Kitty translated. “Who did?”

  “We did.” Reagan smiled. “One of the perks of a luxury cruise liner. They won’t throw you and your friends out of the kitchen if you pop in for an afternoon snack.”

  “Oh, I see.” Kitty hoped her face didn’t betray her thoughts. An afternoon snack, or a perfect opportunity to steal a butcher knife. “Well, let’s head up to the front, then.”

  As they walked through the dining room, the enormous chandelier threw sparkles of light against their clothes as they passed and waiters carrying wine bottles darted this way and that. Every table was anchored with a large bouquet of white roses and the tinkle of silverware mingled with the soft piano music being played on a baby grand in the corner.

  “So, this is your regular life,” Leander said.

  “Not really,” she said, sighing. “My regular life is a classic bookstore in an old colonial that always needs repairs and never has enough hot water for a long shower. It’s falling asleep in front of the fire because Tolstoy is a total bore, and waking up covered in cat hair and with a crick in my neck.”

  He laughed. “Not as glamorous, then.”

  “No, but I like it.”

  Jorge stood up and motioned to them. “Kitty, you sit here next to Captain Edwards, and Leander, you are here. Beside me.”

  Kitty signed his comments because Ralph and Judy were already at the table. They looked pale, but had managed to put on their best clothes for a formal night at dinner with the captain. Reagan, Lacy, and Zoe took seats in a row across the table. Duke took a place at Zoe’s feet, but Tink sat on Lacy’s lap, already nosing the dishes on the table.

  “How’s Tink doing?” Kitty asked Lacy.

  “Great.” Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think she even notices Heather is gone.”

  There was an awkward pause at the table. Leander seemed to be considering Lacy’s words, a slight frown on his face.

  Tavish Edwards made his way toward them, his dress uniform giving him an air of formality and aloofness. His wide smile and warm handshake helped dispel the effect. When he arrived at their table, he took the time to greet each one of them, offering his condolences for their loss and the shock of the accident. As Kitty translated, she saw how his sincerity comforted them, if only for a moment. When he reached her, he bent down and whispered, “I expect you two will get this solved in no time.”

  “We’re trying,” she whispered back.

  When he was seated, Kitty looked around the table, counting heads. “The Rubios aren’t coming? Or Penny and Elaine?”

  “They sent their apologies. Too tired to be here. Very stressful for everyone, I imagine,” Tavish said.

  “I hope they’re okay,” Kitty said. “I should check on them later.” She motioned for Chica to lie down under the table, but she ignored Kitty, and positioned herself behind her chair. Kitty motioned again, but Chica just flicked her ears and kept her gaze on the table. Kitty felt a shiver go through her. She couldn’t be sure that someone wouldn’t tamper with her food.

  As if reading her mind, Tavish leaned over and whispered, “Leander told me about the attempt on your life and the suspicious margarita. The tapes are being reviewed right now, and your meal is being watched by security from start to finish.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered back. She looked up to see Lacy frowning at them. It was rude to have a spoken conversation in front of a deaf group when she could translate it, but Kitty pretended not to notice.

  She knew the killer was sitting just a few feet across from her. She didn’t need to see Chica’s hypervigilant attitude to tell her so. God help them. She could hardly breathe from the fear.

  Glancing at Leander, he looked calm and friendly, but there was a tenseness around his eyes. Taking a sip of water, he scanned the table, his focus resting on each of them in turn, as if memorizing details.

  He met her gaze across the table and nodded slightly. They were in this together, whatever came their way.

  Chapter Twelve

  “We who think we are about to die will laugh at anything.”

  ― Terry Pratchett

  “We’ll see you tomorrow at seven. Remember that we’re heading back to the police station for more interviews,” Leander said as they left the dining room in a group.

  As Kitty translated, Reagan rolled her eyes. “Sure. But we already know who did it. That Mexican killed her.”

  “Of course,” Kitty said, keeping her expression neutral. “I’m sure it’s just some wrap-up questions.”

  The three women sighed in unison. They had complained through dinner about the ineptitude of the police. Reagan had been the worst. In between signaling the waiters to demand changes to her dish, she’d recounted in painful detail all the discomfort she’d experienced in Cancun. Kitty had been tempted to skimp, but her work ethic won out and she dutifully gave Tavish and Jorge an exact translation. Neither of them seemed to take her dissatisfaction personally.

  Kitty glanced at Judy and Ralph. They’d been subdued throughout the dinner. She thought back to how they had both acted at the beginning of the cruise, with their constant complaints and demands. It was clear they had both suffered a terrible shock. Adding on the fact that Ralph would never have the chance to confront Heather about her father’s theft of his pension, and the two seemed a decade older than when they had boarded.

  “We’re going to bed, See you tomorrow,” Judy signed, and took her husband by the hand. He nodded, and they walked slowly away.

  “Well, I’m not going to pass up another night at the club,” Reagan declared. “It’s full of hot guys.”

  “I’m ready to go home,” Lacy said, her bottom lip protruding. “Tink needs to get away from here. Especially from all the dogs.”

  Zoe’s gaze flicked to Lacy. She hadn’t said much during the dinner and seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it to argue. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed,” she said.

  The three women walked away together without saying anything more, although Tink glared at Chica over Lacy’s shoulder.

  Jorge appeared. “Come on. Let’s go check out the clubs. You are too young and handsome to be so serious!”

  “Thank you, but we’d better be getting to bed.” Leander nodded at Kitty. “I’m staying with her tonight if you need to contact me.”

  Jorge blinked several times and then seemed to accept that he wasn’t going to convince either of them to join him in a post-dinner outing.


  “Well, see you tomorrow.” His tone was slightly offended and Kitty felt a twinge of guilt. It wasn’t her fault that she needed a babysitter, and she wasn’t able to explain at the moment. Jorge would just have to take it like a man.

  Kitty put her hand out to touch Chica’s collar but she was already heading for the elevator, as if she’d understood. They made a stop at the doggy care area for Chica to have a potty break, and then headed back to the room. The journey was simultaneously excruciatingly long, and too short for comfort. Kitty spent most of the time giving herself a silent pep talk.

  Not a big deal. It’s like a sleep over. Please, please, don’t let me snore.

  When they arrived at the room, Leander put out a hand. “Do you mind if I go in first to check out the room?” His gaze went to the security camera, newly cleaned and recording their every movement.

  Kitty handed him the room card. Chica followed Leander into the room, head down and ears up, sniffing the carpet for several feet.

  A few moments later, he re-appeared. “Looks okay.”

  Kitty shut the door behind her and stood there awkwardly. Would he want to watch a movie? Talk? “I’m not sure how to―”

  “You don’t need to entertain me,” he said, smiling. “I’ve got a report to finish, and I also brought a book.”

  “Oh.” Relief flooded through her. See, just like a sleep-over, except with a fellow reader, and not someone who wanted to do their nails and talk about Jorge.

  He held up what must have been his pajamas. “I’ve ordered a roll away cot to be delivered in a few minutes. I’ll just change in the bathroom.”

  “Sure.” When he’d closed the bathroom door, Kitty smiled. You had to like a man who brought his own book and a bed. She could still enjoy a little reading and wouldn’t have to worry about staying away from his side of the mattress. Very gentlemanly, really.

  Kitty pulled the pins from her hair, brushed it out, and put it back in a quick pony tail. She’d sent her own pajamas down to the laundry and they were due back in a few minutes. She’d change, get into bed, do some reading…