I tucked my hair resolutely behind my ear and headed to the info desk in the atrium.
Which was empty.
The ship’s horn blared, and I jumped.
Think, Piper, think. I didn’t have time to waste running around randomly searching for crew members. Where was I sure to find someone right now? I snapped my fingers. The galley.
I followed the trail of delectable aromas up another flight of stairs. The dining room wasn’t hard to locate. They were putting away the buffet and had already begun dinner preparation. Prime rib and roasted garlic mashed potatoes with—I sniffed the air—was that fennel? Mmm. I was not hating that. I made a note to include it in my next wedding menu proposal and … focus, woman.
One of the wait staff was arranging place settings at the large, round tables that dotted the room. He flashed a huge grin at me and waved as I jogged over.
“I need to get off this boat!” I said.
His smile didn’t waver, and he nodded.
“My ex-fiancé is across the hall with my klepto cousin, and if I don’t get off this boat right now, I will go insane.”
He kept on nodding.
I glanced at his nametag, which read, “Gualberto, Bolivia.”
“Gualberto,” I said, my heart plummeting, “Do you speak English?”
“Small English.” He put his fingers together. “Little bit English.”
“Thank you anyway.” I kept running, determined to find someone who could help—anyone—before this thing launched from the dock, and I had to doggy paddle back to land.
The halls closed in like a claustrophobic maze. Just as I was about to admit defeat and run the other direction, a door opened down the hallway and out popped Captain Cranky McHottiepants, walking the opposite direction. He seemed like a guy in charge. What was his name again?
“Silas!” I yelled. He turned around to face me. “Thank goodness.”
I rushed over and practically threw myself into his, ahem, rather firm, quite muscular arms.
“Can I help you?” He said it politely but with a frown. “You’re really not supposed to be in this section. And muster is going to begin soon.”
I remembered from a previous cruise that the muster drill was a mandatory safety exercise when they did a final head count and explained emergency procedures and such. It was also the last thing that cruise lines did before they set sail.
“I know. I need to get off this ship.”
“Are you ill?” His eyebrows knit together in concern.
“No. I just can’t go on this trip … for personal reasons.”
“A family emergency?”
Well, if I stayed on this ship, I was liable to murder my cousin and my ex-fiancé, so I nodded.
“Kind of,” I mumbled.
“I’m sorry to hear you won’t be joining us.” He actually looked disappointed. “Unfortunately, though, we’ve already completed the embarkation process. To get off for non-medical reasons, you need to fill out quite a bit of paperwork. And I’m afraid we won’t be able to offer you a refund.”
“Fine.” I would happily fill out a mountain of forms to get off this boat. And Lance had prepaid for the trip. Served him right.
“I’ll have Jenna help you with it.” He lifted a walkie-talkie to his face. “Jenna, I need you to meet Mrs., uhh—”
“Miss Monroe,” I corrected him.
“Miss Monroe at the info desk.”
“Thank you so much.” I meant it. I wouldn’t have to spend a nightmarish week sleeping across the hall from Lance and Tammi.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” If by fine, you meant wallowing in humiliation. “I just need to get off the boat.”
“Well, Jenna should be able to—” He was interrupted by another blast of the ship’s horn, this one longer, with two shorter toots following it.
Then the floor began to vibrate. The motion made me sway to the side. I bumped into Silas. He stood there like a rock. In fact, the only thing stonier than his posture was the grim set of his mouth.
“Please tell me she didn’t … ” His voice faded to a low rumble. “We haven’t even started muster.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, but he ignored me.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself. “Does she want to pay a hefty fine?”
“Fine for what?” I asked.
Silas blinked, and it was like he finally remembered I was there.
“Fine for leaving the port early, before muster, without proper clearance from the harbormaster,” he growled.
“Leaving?” I gripped the rail behind me. “No, no, no, no. We can’t be leaving. I have to get off.”
“You’ll have to excuse me,” he said. “I’m needed on the bridge.”
“But what about me getting off the ship?”
“I’m truly sorry,” he said. “You’ll be able to disembark at our first port of call tomorrow morning.”
Spend the night across from Lance and Tammi?
“Umm, I’m feeling kind of queasy.” Maybe they’d still make an exception for a medical reason. And it wasn’t a lie. At all. I’d only been on two cruises before, and those ships had been much larger with powerful stabilizers. Even then the first few days had been rough on my stomach.
“Again, I’m sorry. I’ve got to go deal with this, though. Go to your muster station please. Take some Dramamine. I’ll see what can be done later.”
“But, but—” My protests went unheard as he slipped through a door and out of sight.
Within a few seconds, Silas’s voice rang out over the all-call, pleasant and calm as could be.
“Slight change of plans, ladies and gentlemen. In a few moments, you’ll hear our ship-wide emergency signal. If everyone would proceed to their designated lifeboat area, we’ll explain our safety procedures in the incident of an emergency. This is a routine drill that we normally carry out before we set sail, but again, today there’s been a slight change in plans.”
The alarm blasted. With it, my chances of getting off this boat vanished into the endless ocean horizon.
Chapter Six
I trudged my way to the top deck. A crewmember pointed me to my assigned assembly station. Lance and Tammi would be there. Ready or not, I would have to face them.
Lance had brought her on what was supposed to be our honeymoon. It was so messed up and gross. I growled under my breath. If anyone should run for cover, it should be them.
Ugh. They’d be ten feet away from me all night, sleeping. And … not sleeping.
Truth be told, I hadn’t exactly been clamoring for a hot and heavy wedding night with Lance. It wasn’t like we’d ever acted like randy teenagers. I thought that it meant our love was simply mellow and mature. Or that whatever spark we’d initially had might reignite once we were past the stress of the wedding.
I held my head high, ready to throw out a witty comeback to prove how casually aloof I was.
Then I saw them.
I promptly darted behind a towel cart and crouched to hide.
So much for witty and aloof.
Lance was wearing a pair of baggy cargo shorts and a tee shirt from his college fraternity. His dishwater blonde hair sprouted out the bottom of his Braves cap. Tammi was suctioned to his side like a lamprey eel. The caramel highlights in her curls glinted in the sun. She stared at Lance every so often with a vacuous smile.
I backed away from the cart, then stood behind a pole. I was next to Bebe Bosley. Her white Pomeranian rested in the crook of her arm like it was balanced on a throne, and Bebe cooed at him in baby talk while he yapped at everyone around him.
“Does Mimsy not wike the wowd horn? No, he doesn’t.” She tickled the dog under his chin while he snarled at a crewmate demonstrating how to tighten the life jackets. “No, he doesn’t.”
Anyone who watched her show knew that Mimsy didn’t wike anything or anyone.
That dog was a menace.
As if to prove the point, the evil
, miniature mongrel snapped his jaws at me. His sharp little teeth grazed the skin on my arm as I flinched away.
Bebe swiveled to face me. Rather than apologize for her dog, though, she glared as if I had provoked the attack.
A sharp finger tapped on my shoulder from behind. A woman sporting a navy business suit with steel grey hair pulled into a tight bun held a clipboard and pen toward me. She forced her lips into a semblance of a smile. Her tongue darted out nervously to lick her lips, reminding me of a lizard.
“Pardon me,” she said. “Would you mind signing this form?”
“What is this?” I asked.
“A release of liability.” She waved her hand to the side as if swatting a fly. “A mere formality.”
“Liability for what?”
“That little snafu just now with Mrs. Bosley’s dog.”
“You mean when it tried to bite me?”
“Unh, unh, unh. When it playfully nipped at the air near your arm. See?” She pointed at the paper on the clipboard. “It clearly states this was not a canine attack.”
Indeed. She had already scribbled in the words, “non-aggressive incident with dog,” on a line describing the so-called incident.
“I’m sorry. Who are you again?” I asked.
“Peg Halloway.” She grasped my hand firmly—the kind of handshake people practiced in a mirror. A strong whiff of cologne that I was pretty sure was the same scent I’d bought for Lance last Christmas wafted to my nostrils. “I’m the Bosley family’s private attorney.”
“Oh. So basically this says I’m not going to sue Bebe for her dog trying to bite me?”
“No, no. It says you’re not going to hold Bebe liable in any way for her dog peacefully exploring the environment around your arm.”
“Right.” I signed the form anyway.
Behind us, Bebe was snapping selfies with her dog and her boyfriend, Tony Hudson. The flash went off directly in my face. I blinked the black spot on my retina away, and when I opened my eyes, there was another clipboard in my face.
“Release for your likeness to appear on a potential upcoming episode of Mrs. Bosley’s shows or any of her social media channels,” said Peg.
“Sure. Why not?” I signed it. “Anything else?”
“Not at this time. On behalf of the entire Bosley family, I hope you have a lovely trip.”
Wow. That was one efficient employee. I looked over again at Bebe who had yet to even acknowledge the work Ms. Halloway had done on her behalf.
Bebe hollered, “Peg!”
The lawyer carefully stepped around me. “Yes, Mrs. Bosley?”
“Mimsy made a doot.” Bebe pointed at a tiny brown log below her.
Ms. Halloway’s face tightened back into that lizard grin. She whipped out a plastic baggy, picked up the poo, and deposited it in a trash can without a word. As soon as Bebe’s back was turned, Ms. Halloway’s smile transformed to a scowl.
Looked like I wasn’t the only one dreading this trip.
After the crewmate finished giving us our safety instructions, I hightailed it out of there. I might be stuck on this boat, but danged if I was going to spend one more minute directly across the hall from Lance and Tammi. A line had already formed at the info desk of people signing up for shore excursions. Jenna, the helpful chipmunk girl from the port, clicked away on the computer, and I finally reached the front of the line. Jenna looked up from her screen. Her eyes went wide, and her face froze in that manic smile from earlier.
“Hi, there,” she said.
“Hi,” I said. “So. We need to talk about the room.”
“I’m so sorry. I was trying to tell you at the terminal, but I got a bit flustered.”
“I know. I said the room would be fine, no matter what. But it’s not fine.”
“Because of your neighbors?”
“Uhh, yeah.”
“I’m truly sorry.” Jenna twisted her hands in knots. “I was confused by the name thing, and then since it was the honeymoon suite with Mr. Carruthers and his, umm, guest … oh, I feel so awful.”
“It was an honest mistake. Let’s simply move me into another cabin. Preferably as far away as possible from Mr. Carruthers and his … guest.”
“But there is no other cabin. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
“No other cabin?” Impossible. There had to be another room. The ship didn’t even seem that crowded.
She shook her head, her chin trembling.
“On the whole ship?”
“Usually I’d be able to help you. But with Mrs. Bosley on board taking up a full floor … ”
“Bebe Bosley takes up a full floor?” When she checked in, there was one other person in her party. The lawyer made three. I hadn’t seen any film crew. How did a few people need a full floor of rooms?
“Well, yes.” Jenna searched around nervously, then leaned in to whisper. “She’s not using all of them. Only three, but she’s required to book a whole floor for a week twice a year. It was in Mr. Bosley’s—”
“Jenna.” Silas edged up behind her. “We do not discuss private business matters with guests.”
There was something unnervingly solid about that man. But taking a good long look at him, some contradictions stood out—the cowlick over his ear that wouldn’t stay down, the tattoo over his upper arm that screamed “bad boy,” the softness around his eyes, even as he was admonishing his subordinate.
“Sorry,” squeaked Jenna.
“Especially when it comes to the Bosley party’s affairs,” he added in a tone so hushed I could barely hear him. Fine. I had to practically pole vault over the desk to hear what he had said.
“Yes, sir.” Jenna turned back to me, her chin still quivering. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to move you to a new room … for, umm, reasons I’m not at liberty to discuss.”
Silas rolled his eyes.
“But you don’t understand.” I grasped my hair at the temple. “I can’t be in the room across from Lance. This is a man who—” I was about to say dumped me at the altar, but I held my tongue. I hadn’t kissed my pride completely goodbye. Yet. “This is a man to whom I was formerly engaged.”
“That’s what I figured.” Jenna looked like she was about to explode into a supernova of remorse. I actually felt kind of bad for her. “I am so, so sorry. If there’s anything else we can do to make your stay easier, please let me know. I truly do feel awful.”
“I know.” I sighed. I could survive this for twenty-four hours. And then get off as fast as my legs could carry me at our first port of call. I’d ignore Lance and not give him the satisfaction of seeing me upset. It might be a small ship, but I’d be the bigger woman … and spend the night holed up in my room.
“We feel very bad about this unfortunate mistake.” Silas was the one to speak this time. “It would be my personal honor for you to join us at the captain’s table for dinner.”
“I think I’m just going to order in room service, but thank you.”
“Oh, there’s never any room service available for dinner,” said Jenna.
“Seriously?” Great. I got to choose between starving and watching Lance and Tammi cozy up for a romantic dinner. And what kind of cruise didn’t have room service anyway?
“We only have room service at breakfast,” said Jenna. “Even then it’s kind of iffy. First-come, first-served. On a good day.”
“Jenna!” The muscle below Silas’s clenched jaw twitched. I wasn’t the only one clasping onto a last shred of pride.
“I mean, yes, please join us at the captain’s table.” Jenna blushed. “It’s at the very edge of the dining room, as far away as possible from … distractions.”
As far as possible from Lance and Tammi. That would have to do. Besides, it was only for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow morning after which we’d dock and I’d get the heck out of Dodge. The airline ticket might be expensive, but I still had a small amount available on my credit card.
“Thank you,” I said, and I meant it. T
hey were obviously trying to make the best of an uncomfortable situation.
Silas nodded stiffly.
I was about to excuse myself when a peppy redhead wearing a sailor’s hat at a jaunty angle bounded around the corner. She pointed at me, and her lips formed a fake pout.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Who me?” I twisted around to check that it was, indeed, me she was addressing.
“The party’s starting by the pool,” she said.
“Miss Monroe, I’d like you to meet our cruise director Amanda Asher.” Silas motioned to the redhead.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “You can call me Piper. And I’m afraid I don’t feel quite up for a party. I think I’ll just go to my room and rest until dinner.”
“Nonsense!” She rubbed her hands together eagerly. “This is the first day of your vacation. Who needs rest when you can r-r-r-rumba?”
Amanda channeled her inner Carmen Miranda, jiggled her shoulders and wiggled her chest.
“Oh, wow. You’ve got a lot of energy there, don’t you?” The only r I wanted in my life, though, was to curl up and read a good mystery. Preferably something where the murder victim was a cheating scumbag.
“Ms. Monroe has had a very long day,” said Jenna diplomatically.
“I’ll get you up and dancing yet by the end of this trip.” Amanda planted her hands on her hips in her best cheerleader impersonation.
“Perhaps.” I didn’t mention that her window was closing fast as I’d be getting off at the first opportunity.
I headed to my room, pulling my sunglasses over my eyes. Not that I’d been crying or anything. Quite the opposite. The heat of my inner fury had dried up any tear supply for the foreseeable future. But the more I could do to disguise myself from Lance and Tammi and avoid eye contact with them, the better.
In my cabin, I flopped on my bed like a beached whale. I really could have used this vacation. I had reached the point of utter exhaustion, the kind that seeps into your bones.
The burnout wasn’t only because of the debacle of an almost-wedding. I’d been in a rut for a long time, which was part of the reason I’d gotten engaged to Lance in the first place.
Death In A Deck Chair Page 3