Death In A Deck Chair

by Georgia Kains

  “You touch, you buy!” he yelled and yanked the thirty dollars out of my hand.

  “I don’t want the dress.” I threw it down. “I want you to stop mistreating your pet.”

  “Oh, you care for the sweet birdie, eh?” He reached over and opened the cage’s door.

  “I wasn’t looking to start trouble,” I said. “Just stop beating on the cage.”

  “No, no,” he said, sticking his hand in the cage. The bird cowed before him and flapped to the other side of his small enclosure like he’d hurt it before. “You think you know better to take care of the bird. Here. You take him.”

  “Wait. No. I can’t take him. I’m a passenger on that cruise ship.”

  “Know-It-All lady is a bird expert,” he called out. “Here. You bought him. He’s yours.”

  “What? No. No, I can’t. I … no.” I backed away as quickly as I could, but the man grabbed the bird and threw it at me. I thrust out my arm to protect myself from the ball of feather and talons headed straight at me, but the bird squawked again, flapping its wings and alighted gently on my shoulder.

  “Nun unh.” I tried to carefully brush it off, but it clung onto me like Velcro. I addressed the bird directly. “I can’t take you with me. I have to get on that boat. You have to stay here.”

  I slipped my finger under his foot and lifted him. He sat on my finger but made no show of taking off. I moved my hand in a sweeping motion toward the clothes guy, but the bird traipsed back up my arm toward my shoulder. The man guffawed at my newfound predicament.

  “Looks like you have a new friend,” he said, dumping a trash bag of garments on the ground.

  “You don’t understand. I cannot take him. I’m sure it’s not allowed even if I wanted a pet bird. Which I don’t.” I could barely take care of my own mess of a self right now. I had no business taking on a fine-feathered friend.

  “Your problem now.” He combed through the clothes without bothering to glance at me.

  “Hey! You still have my money,” I called.

  The man shot me a threatening glance. Probably better to cut my losses and set the bird free once I was clear of him.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said to it. “I’ll find you a big pile of popcorn or seed or whatever it is that you eat, and then you are on your own.”

  He hopped around on my shoulder, chirping, as I made my way to the pier.

  “So. This is where we part ways.” I slumped my shoulder next to a bench hoping he’d hop off, but he clung on. “This is the … the end of the road. Literally. You can’t get on that gangplank with me. It was nice to meet you, but … goodbye.”

  “Bye bye,” said the bird. “Bye bye.”

  “Oh, you talk?” That was actually pretty cool. But again, whether I wanted a talking bird or not, it didn’t matter. I couldn’t take care of a pet on board.

  “I think you’ll be okay,” I said. “You seem pretty resourceful.”

  I slid my finger under his feet again and placed him on the bench. He bowed, and I patted him on top of the head. It really was too bad. He seemed like a sweet little guy.

  He cocked his head and said, “Load of—” honnnnnnnnk

  The ship’s horn cut off the bird right at the moment that he tossed out a pungent four-letter word.

  Okay, so maybe “sweet” wasn’t the best word to describe him. His former owner might have rubbed off on him a bit too much.

  Chapter Ten

  As I crossed the gangplank to board the ship, I found myself growing sad to leave the bird behind. It would have been nice to have a friendly face on board. Even if it was avian.

  Jenna was waving at me like a mad woman at the entrance to the boat.

  I waved back limply.

  “Hi, Piper,” she said. She held a tray of piña coladas in coconut shells. The sign on the tray said they cost eight dollars. “I thought you were returning home at this port.”

  “Change of plans.” I shrugged and reached for a piña colada, but she moved her arm nonchalantly the other direction. I reached for one again, but she held the tray away from my grasp.

  “Could I get one of those?”

  Her face froze. “How about some nice water with lime?”

  “Uhh, no, a piña colada please. You can put a lime on it if you want.”

  “Or some fresh aqua. With limon.”

  “Isn’t that just water with lime?”

  “Fresh water with lime.”

  “But still water. I’ll take that piña colada. Thank you.”

  “I … am so sorry. I can’t.” She set the tray aside, and she seemed genuinely crestfallen. “Your account has been frozen.”

  “Frozen like unlimited piña coladas?” I asked hopefully.

  “Frozen like no more drinks. Or extra purchases. The credit card company cut you off today because you hit your limit. Your meals are still covered, of course.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” It just kept getting better and better.

  “I’m truly sorry. How about I bring you that water?”

  “With lime?”

  “With extra lime.”

  “Thanks.” Maybe if I dissolved a few Dramamine tablets in my lime water I could at least forget where I was for a few hours.

  “So looks like I have to survive the rest of this cruise with Lance and Tammi … stone cold sober.”

  “Pish posh!” Amanda the ever-peppy cruise director came up behind me on the gangplank and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “I’m going to get you drunk on fun!”

  “Does fun have tequila in it?”

  Amanda and Jenna both giggled at my joke.

  “Marcus made tiramisu for dessert,” said Jenna. “If you ate enough of that, you might get a tiny buzz from the liqueur.”

  “In tiramisu, I believe the ladyfingers are soaked in espresso, not alcohol. So wrong direction on the buzz,” I pointed out. Although tiramisu did sound delicious. However, that reminded me of my other problem. “But I still don’t have any clothes to change into for dinner.”

  “Oh.” Jenna’s face drooped then brightened. “Wait! I can fix that.”

  “I have zero money to my name, so if you’re going to try to sell me something from a gift shop or even suggest something from the market, don’t bother.” Besides, that witch Bebe had swooped in and stolen everything in my size.

  “No.” Jenna pulled her radio out. “Meet me at the info desk in ten minutes. Just trust me.”

  “All right.”

  On my way to the info desk, I heard a flapping noise then felt a featherweight pressure land lightly on my shoulder.

  “Oh, no,” I said before I even bothered to look. “I cannot keep you,” I hiss-whispered.

  “I love you,” squawked the bird.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s not manipulative at all. I bet that worked with the tourists, but not me, buddy.” I wiggled my shoulder to get him off, but he hopped up and down excitedly like he was enjoying the ride.

  I planted myself on a lounge chair outside the lobby while I waited for Jenna. The bird started whistling the tune to Crocodile Rock.

  “Oh, seriously?” I said. “My least favorite Elton John song, and that’s the one you have memorized?”

  “Elton! Elton!” He bobbed his head excitedly.

  I laughed. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a name, Elton.”

  Not that he was my pet.

  “What else can you say?” I asked him.

  “Right now, he’s saying, ‘I’m sorry, but you can’t keep pets on board.’”

  I looked up. Silas cocked one eyebrow in a suspicious arch.

  “Oh. This?” I brushed at my shoulder, but Elton clung on. “This is not my pet.”

  Elton cocked his head to the side and said, “I love you, Mommy.”

  “You were saying?” Silas leaned against the railing.

  “Funny story,” I said, and I babbled out the tale of how the bird was mistreated and released and then followed me.

  “While that’s all qui
te touching,” he said, “it doesn’t change the fact that we have a no pets policy.”

  As he was speaking, Bebe sauntered past with Mimsy, the attack dust mop, who growled at us. It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

  “Mrs. Bosley’s dog is a service animal.” He managed to keep a straight face as he said it, but I could tell it was straining his every last muscle.

  “Is that so?”

  “It helps her”—he blew out his breath slowly—“with her grief.”

  “Her grief?”

  “Yes. Her grief.” He slipped his hands into his pockets.

  “For her husband who died four years ago?”

  “Yes.”

  “Over the age of one hundred?” I narrowed my eyes to slivers.

  “That would be the one.”

  “Riiiight.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, but we can’t change the policy. And as bad as I feel about your current situation, if I make an exception for you, then the next thing you know, it’s going to be Noah’s Ark. Now, if you brought me a doctor’s note and the two-hundred and fifty dollar cleaning fee, you too could be the proud owner of an emotional support animal. Otherwise, I’m sorry.”

  Hrrmph.

  “You hear that, Elton?” I said after Silas left. “You’ve got to skadoodle.”

  As if he’d understood every word Silas had said, Elton gave me an affectionate nip on the finger then flew off.

  True to her word, Jenna staggered in a few minutes later holding a pile of clothes that went over her head. At first I wondered if she’d bought them from the shady guy on the island, but she quickly explained.

  “Lost and found,” she said. “And there’s plenty more where this came from, down in the cargo hold.”

  I sifted through the mess of clothes. Jenna had misjudged my size (hey, there’s nothing wrong with a little fluff in the duff). Only one dress and one pair of shorts and a shirt would fit me, but they weren’t hideous. And at least I wouldn’t have to wear my same stinky clothes all week. I could wear someone else’s.

  I was thankful that I’d packed my swimsuit in my day bag, though. Because lost-and-found swimsuit … nope.

  “Just make sure you don’t wear any of the stuff if you go off the boat.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s illegal. Any discarded item, whether it’s a pair of forgotten sunglasses or unclaimed cargo has to be processed and go through a whole rigmarole with customs.”

  “So you can’t have a big yard sale at your dock?”

  “Oh, we do that.” She laughed. “We pay almost as much in tariffs and fees for unclaimed cargo as we get by selling it, though. It barely breaks even. Silas can only handle the headache once a year. So here it lies until then. Sometimes, Amanda and I go scouting for sunglasses and cute outfits to wear during our time off. As long as it stays on the ship, it’s fine.”

  “Seems a shame.”

  “Yeah. But it would be more of a shame to get caught hawking freight illegally. Oh! Before I forget.” She reached behind the info desk and handed me a package of brand new underwear.

  “You’re really indispensable around here, aren’t you?” I said.

  “Um, yeah. I guess so.” She reddened.

  “Thanks again.” I looked at the dress she’d loaned me for tonight’s dinner. It was kind of attractive, and a decent quality. It would fit me like a potato sack, but I’d take what I could get.

  Unfortunately, what I was about to get was tangled into a very messy ordeal.

  Chapter Eleven

  With a few hours before dinner, I headed to the pool, hoping Lance and Tammi were still off on the island somewhere. I hadn’t even laid out my towel yet when Elton came hopping up to join me.

  “Go away. You’re going to get me in trouble,” I said. But when no one was looking, I rolled a towel into a fluffy nest next to me on the cocktail table. Elton busied himself pulling at a thread before it met his standards.

  The pool deck was emptier than I expected. Just me, a guy on the far side wearing headphones, and an elderly couple napping. With the island being so tiny, I thought most people would have headed back to the boat already. I shut my eyes and listened to the whoosh of the waves lapping against the side of the ship. Right as I began to doze off, I heard shouting. Bebe Bosley stood in the doorway to the pool deck and berated Tony with the blistering furor of a blonde tornado.

  “How dare you cheat on me!” Bebe screeched.

  “It was nothing. Nothing, baby! I tripped on the way to the bathroom in the restaurant, and my lips fell against that waitress’s.”

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. This guy made Lance look like the patron saint of fidelity.

  “It’s over!” She wrenched her engagement ring off and threw it into the pool.

  “You’re crazy!” Tony dove into the tiny pool and after circling around like a bottom-dweller catfish, he bobbed up, holding the ring.

  “Have fun finding another sugar mama.” Bebe stomped off.

  I expected Tony to scamper after her like he did before, tail tucked between his legs. Instead, his eyes flashed, and he muttered, “You’ll regret this.”

  I grabbed a magazine and ducked behind it, pretending I hadn’t witnessed the whole scene. I was surprised the headphones guy and napping couple had missed that explosion. Bebe and Tony were a crate of Mentos hovering over a keg of Diet Coke.

  As the hour dwindled closer to dinner, more passengers found their way to the pool deck. It grew too crowded for my tastes, so I rolled up my magazine to head to my room.

  “Piper! What are you doin’ here?”

  I blinked into the setting sun even though I didn’t need to see who it was. I’d know that drippy Southern drawl anywhere. Tammi. At least Lance didn’t seem to be with her.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  She crossed her arms and tossed her silky smooth hair over her shoulder. I couldn’t help but wonder how many AquaNet holes in the ozone layer Tammi was personally responsible for.

  “I thought you were getting off the boat,” she said.

  “So did I, but plans have changed. I’m stuck here.”

  She let out a sigh that would have sent the boat flying if it had sails.

  “This was all a huge mistake, Tammi. I’ve been trying to avoid you, but it’s a small boat. There are only so many places I can hide, er, hang out. Trust me, if anyone wants to be left alone, it’s me.”

  “You don’t have to be so touchy.”

  “You think I’m being touchy?”

  “There’s no hard feelings, okay?” She rolled her eyes.

  “No hard feelings?” Unbelievable. “Do you somehow see yourself as a victim here?”

  “No. But I didn’t mean to fall in love with Lance,” she whined. “And I’m still your cousin. We used to be friends. Really good friends.”

  “Yeah, in junior high. Before you started stealing everything that wasn’t nailed down. Then you tried to pin your theft on me.” Some friend.

  “Kleptomania is a medical condition.” Tammi’s voice ascended to a shrill timbre. The entire flock of passengers and several crew members had stopped what they were doing to witness our argument.

  “So I’ve been informed for the last umpteen family reunions when another of Grandma Sophia’s silver forks goes missing and they have to go fish it out of your luggage.” Oh, I was airing all the family underbritches now, and I didn’t even care about the deck full of strangers watching us agog.

  A sick feeling bubbled in my stomach. Enough.

  I didn’t want any more drama. Not on this cruise. Not at family reunions. I was done.

  Tammi stood there, fidgeting with a gaudy bauble at the end of a silver chain that she’d probably pilfered somewhere, and I felt something amazing—relief.

  I simply wanted to be free of Lance and Tammi. No more outbursts. Not from me. Not from them.

  I wanted peace. And if that meant forgiving my cousin, so be it.

  “Look, Tammi,” I said after swa
llowing a deep breath, “this whole situation is awkward and uncomfortable and to be honest, I’d rather be anywhere but here. But maybe for the rest of the trip, we can just—”

  I didn’t get to finish offering my wilted olive branch because at that moment the music over the loudspeaker switched songs. It started playing Los del Rio’s greatest hits, of which there was only one.

  The Macarena.

  Uh oh.

  Elton jumped around in agitation, no doubt dealing with some bird PTSD from the abuse at the hands of his former master every time this song came on. As the refrain went on, Elton flapped his wings and let out a mutinous screech.

  “Oh, no,” I said in a hush. But it was too late.

  Elton flew off his nest in a whirling mass of feathers. He squawked a slew of avian profanities when the song reached the chorus. I tried to shield Tammi from the brunt of the outbreak, but she stood directly in his crosshairs. I watched helplessly as she went tumbling over into the pool to get away from the featherball of fury.

  “I’m so sorry.” I reached down to try to help my cousin out of the water, but she swatted my hand away. It was just as well. Elton was still strutting back and forth behind me, spouting some salty language.

  “You meant for him to do that!” She splashed my feet like a petulant child.

  “No, I didn’t,” I said calmly. But I certainly didn’t hate him for it. I swallowed a snicker.

  “I told you … I can’t help that I’m a kleptomaniac,” she yelled. “It’s a medical condition.”

  Deep breath. No more drama.

  “I know, Tammi.” I stooped to help her out of the water.

  She took my offered hand and was halfway out of the pool when she let out a low, mean laugh.

  “Gotta say, though, Piper, next time give me a challenge. It was way too easy to steal Lance.”

  Oops. My grip slipped.

  She splashed back into the pool as I strolled away.

  I didn’t realize at the time I was moving from one snake pit straight into another.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dinner was again scrumptious with a side of hostility.