Death In A Deck Chair

by Georgia Kains

  Just as I was tightening the knot, footsteps clomped up the stairwell. Someone banged on the door. I ran over and loosened the towel. Silas emerged, holding the pink stun gun.

  “Are you okay?” He asked between gulps of breath. “One of the waiters thought they heard a gunshot.”

  I gestured to the pole where Amanda was tied up and fuming.

  “Preston didn’t kill Bebe. Amanda did. And she tried to kill me just now. Well, tried to kill me again just now.” I braced myself for an onslaught of protests and questions, but Silas only stood there looking thoughtful. And handsome. Always with the handsome.

  “I believe you,” he finally said. “It didn’t sit well with me—Preston as a murderer.”

  Hey, now. Silas wasn’t so shabby himself at this detective thing given the chance.

  “But, Silas!” squealed Amanda. “It was the other way around. Piper is clearly unhinged. She’s lying.”

  He’d worked with Amanda a long time, and he’d known me less than a week. A smattering of doubt crossed his face.

  Oh, heck to the no. Silas might not give a hoot about things like Jimmy Choos or Lilly Pulitzer shorts, but there was one thing I knew he’d care about: being wrong.

  “Copper wire!” I blurted.

  “Copper what?” said Silas, but Amanda went pale.

  “That copper wire that was in the cargo hold. You said there was a lot of it left on the spools, but I double-checked. It was almost all gone except for scraps. If you dust it for fingerprints, I bet hers will be all over those spools. Copper probably gets a nice price on the market, doesn’t it, Amanda? She’s been smuggling who-knows-what. Stolen goods, drugs. What else?”

  Amanda turned her head to the side and stared at the ground. She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.

  “Her accomplice Ed or Freddy or whatever name he’s going by will probably be waiting for us on the dock when we arrive today.”

  Any remaining doubt evaporated from Silas’s face. He looked like a volcano about to erupt.

  “But, Silas!” she squealed again.

  “I’d keep quiet until you have a lawyer present, Amanda.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Come in!” I called to whoever had knocked on my door.

  I’d felt safe leaving the door to my cabin unlocked with Amanda in custody. Crew members had been scurrying in and out all morning. And, obviously, I wasn’t falling asleep after all that excitement.

  That didn’t stop me from snuggling on my bed in a fuzzy blanket with Elton cuddled in my lap. Silas had sequestered me in my stateroom and asked me to write out the most accurate account I could of everything that had happened before we arrived back home.

  Home.

  Except I had no home to go back to. Addie had promised last night to widen her search, but I wasn’t sure how much wider you could get than bunking with bodybuilders.

  And the chances that Addie had found something that was as cozy and reasonably priced as my old house were somewhere between nil and zero. I was open to anything at this point—condos, apartments, converted tool sheds.

  The sinking dread that I had felt when getting on the ship returned. But now it was at the prospect of getting off.

  It would be futile to even try to rebuild my client list. My name was mud in the world of weddings.

  Hmm.

  No more weddings.

  No more bridezillas. No more controlling, screaming mothers. No more chasing down no-show waiters or picking bird poop off of seat covers.

  I felt … relieved.

  Maybe the relief was a sign. Maybe it was time to switch things up—go into general event planning or put my upcycling skills to use in interior decorating.

  But I could put any sunny spin I wanted on it, it still meant the same thing. Starting over from scratch.

  And with a new pet parakeet to take care of. Elton had planted himself on my shoulder the moment we had gotten to the cabin and hadn’t budged an inch from my body since. As far as I could tell, he was back to his normal self and even crooned a couple lines of Rocket Man as loudly as he could into my ear when the speed at which I was feeding him sunflower seeds wasn’t to his liking.

  “Piper?” Jenna poked her head in the door. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine, thanks.” I had a bruise on my side where Amanda had jammed the gun and a bump on my head from hitting the railing, but otherwise, I felt good.

  “Sorry again about not realizing you were being led to your watery demise by a homicidal maniac.” She gritted her teeth in a sheepish cringe.

  “No problem.”

  “If you feel up to it, I’m supposed to take you to meet with the investigators.”

  Jenna, Elton, and I walked out to the jogging track, but none of my fellow travelers were out for a leisurely stroll this morning. Stateroom attendants zipped by with tagged luggage, and the line of passengers had already formed at the gangplank door to leave the murderous memories behind.

  The Goode-Tripps would have to weather that negative press.

  A swarm of blue lights greeted us as we glided into the port. If there had been any lingering questions about jurisdiction, they were gone now. Amanda had attacked me nine miles off the coast of the good ol’ U.S. of A. We’d puttered around a mile offshore until the state police and the Feds had their ducks in a row. They could battle it out all they wanted over the scene of the crime once Amanda was safely inside a jail cell.

  “Well,” said Jenna miserably, “there goes our cruise director. Guess I’ll be leading the limbo for the foreseeable future.”

  The poor thing was twenty going on sixty-three.

  “When are you going to work up the nerve to tell your mom and Silas?”

  This was ridiculous. It was less than forty-eight hours since I’d been transformed into a human yam (and it had been a rough forty-eight hours at that), but thanks to Jenna’s miraculous aesthetician skills, I looked like I’d been on some spa retreat rather than a boat full of shady criminals. Her talents were being wasted behind that info desk.

  “Work up the nerve to tell me what?” said a voice from behind us, which I instantly recognized as Silas’s. Oops.

  “Sorry,” I mouthed at Jenna.

  She shrugged. Secrets had a weight all their own, and I might have inadvertently lifted this one off her. Maybe someday she’d even thank me for being a blabbermouth.

  A lump formed in my throat. There was no “someday” with Jenna or with Silas or Cappy or Dr. Jo or any of the other friends I’d made on board. This was it.

  “What’s the matter, Jenna?” Gone was the stern, commanding ship’s purser. The man who stood before us was simply a worried big brother.

  “Umm, it’s … it’s not a big deal. But there is something I need to tell you. I’ve been taking online classes for—” Jenna paused when an elderly passenger, who I recognized as Mr. Dancing Butt-grabber’s wife, struggled by us with her carry-on. “Let me get that for you, Mrs. Wolniak.”

  “I’ve got it, Jenna.” Silas took the bag from Mrs. Wolniak and offered to take Mr. Wolniak’s as well, who was a little unsteady on his feet. “And you two be careful for the next few days ashore. You’ve got your sea legs now, and it can take your inner ear time to adjust to walking on land.”

  “And dancing.” Mr. Wolniak winked at me.

  “I’ll have these bags delivered to your car,” said Silas to the Wolniaks, then he squeezed his sister’s hand. “This conversation isn’t over. Whatever it is, we’ll work it out.”

  Addie had been right. Small really was the new big. This little family-run ship had ended up being a gem. If you didn’t count the homicidal activity director, they had an amazing crew and bent over backward to treat every passenger like they were special.

  Sure they sometimes had to run around like chickens with their heads cut off to keep the illusion going. Kind of like a wedding. Nobody witnessed the barely controlled chaos simmering beneath the surface. All they saw were the fifteen trained doves deliver
ing the baggies of hand-plucked flower petals to toss at the bride.

  When the investigators arrived, Jenna excused herself. I gave my statement, and unfortunately, they merely threw their heads back and roared with laughter after I asked when I would get my clothes returned from evidence.

  Phooey.

  The crew had launched into their frenzy of cleaning to prepare for a new set of passengers who would board for their next sailing. A group of them shared an enormous rolling bucket of filthy mop water and tipped their hats to me as they passed.

  “Piper!” Tammi rushed up to me, out of breath. “I’m so glad I caught you before we left.”

  “Really?” This was it. The apology. Finally.

  “Yeah. I had something really important I needed to ask you.”

  Can you ever forgive me? How could I have been such a horrible excuse of a cousin? Why was I so wretched to you?

  “Do you mind reimbursing me for the bridesmaid dress for your wedding? The shop refused to take it back.”

  “I … I … ”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault you insisted on dresses that were so expensive. And that had electronic security tags on them.”

  “We’ll just send you a bill later,” said Lance (probably right around the time smoke began to billow out of my ears). “See you around, Pipesqueak.”

  They turned to leave, but my senses returned to me.

  “Tammi, I’d be happy to pay you for that dress,” I said. “When they bury me in it because that will happen over my cold, dead body.”

  My cousin’s mouth burbled open.

  “And Lance.” I pushed myself to my tiptoes and dug my finger into his chest.

  “I told you”—poke—“DON’T”—poke—“Call me”—poke—“Pipesqueak!”

  With a final jab of my pointer finger, Lance’s foot caught on the edge of the mop bucket, and he fell butt-first into the murky liquid, splashing it over Tammi as well.

  My work here was done.

  They stomped off the boat, sopping wet and grumbling all the way. When they were finally out of sight, I leaned against the railing and watched as the last of my fellow passengers wandered off the ship. Cappy shook every person’s hand at the end of the gangplank.

  “Well, Piper.” Silas eased next to me. Goosebumps danced across my skin as his arm brushed against mine. “We seem to be short a cruise director.”

  Silas might have been the one person who’d had a rougher week than I had. (Well, other than Bebe, obviously. And Preston. And technically Amanda, come to think of it.) Wow, it had been a doozy.

  “So,” he said, “when can you start?”

  “Huh?”

  “The director position. Are you interested?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I couldn’t just up and leave my life behind. Except that, well, my life had up and left me behind.

  “Why not?” Silas asked.

  “I … I have no experience.”

  “Now you’re the one who’s kidding me. You got the Wolniaks dancing last night. Together. That was the first time I’ve seen those two act even polite to each other, much less acting like lovebirds. Your wedding planning skills alone would more than prepare you.”

  “I can’t run away on a cruise ship. I have my business to think of.” Technically, I had my business to rebuild.

  “Do you?” His eyebrows arched. “I read the Associated Press story.”

  “The AP picked it up?” I groaned. I wouldn’t even be able to start over in a new city now.

  “And come on,” he said. “You handled yourself like a pro around Tammi and Lance. That was a potential disaster, but you kept the calm and the peace.”

  “Except for screaming at her and knocking her into the pool.”

  “From what I heard, your parrot did that.”

  “Elton’s a parakeet.”

  Silas held out a stack of papers.

  “What are these?” I asked.

  “Return bookings,” he said. “That sets a new record for us.”

  “You’re kidding. After this week?”

  “I’m as shocked as you are. Read some of the comments.”

  Love the upgrades to the lobby area! Can’t wait to see how you redecorate the rest of the ship. What a fabulous idea to let us watch the transformation of a room during the trip. It was a joy!

  “You did that.” He punched his finger on the comments. “Well, you and a voucher for half-off their next trip. But the point is that you worked your magic quietly and behind the scenes. That’s the exact quality we need in a cruise director.”

  “Amanda had the energy of a room full of preschoolers.” Most days, it took a keg of coffee to get me going in the morning.

  “Everybody has their own style.”

  “I get sea sick.” I was running out of excuses, but this was crazy. Right? I’d never done anything this spontaneous. Ever.

  “We’ve got plenty of Dramamine. And by the end of the trip, you were getting better.”

  “Yeah, I was kind of too busy fending off a murderous lunatic to worry much about my queasy gut.”

  Silas chuckled and leaned farther down so that his voice was a mere hush in my ear.

  “And what does your gut say now?”

  Curiously, my gut was a bit tongue-tied, especially with his lips mere inches from mine.

  “Well?” he said. “You up for an adventure?”

  I stared down the gangplank, debating my future.

  In hindsight, there was never really much of a debate.

  But again, my hindsight was as blind as a bat wearing beer goggles.

  Epilogue

  Hoooooonk

  The horn blasted. I was standing right under it and fought the urge to cover my ears. Instead, I squared my shoulders and dialed my smile up a notch.

  Go time.

  This was the portion of each trip I’d grown to treasure. Those first three hours when no one was seasick or sunburnt or angry that the snorkeling excursion had already filled up.

  Wandering amongst the passengers, I greeted newcomers and welcomed back returning guests. If I watched closely enough, I could actually pinpoint the moment their stress started to melt away.

  My phone buzzed.

  Everything going okay? Is Silas freaking out? Did Izzy have any issues with check-in?

  Jenna had left for aesthetician school in Atlanta a week ago and had been texting me non-stop since.

  Everything is fine. Go study, I texted her back.

  Silas had finally discovered how much his sister did around this place while she was training her replacements over the last few months. Replacements, plural. Because it took two people to fill her shoes. (Although I was still a little touchy about the subject of shoes, even six months later.)

  At least the shoe thief in question was behind bars. Amanda was now the self-appointed director of fun at Marianna Federal Corrections.

  Last I heard Preston was attending Gamblers Anonymous regularly in his country club of a prison somewhere in Connecticut. He must have reached the making amends step because he sent a formal apology to Silas for the bump on the noggin.

  There wasn’t enough evidence to arrest Tony for his assault against Cara. He’d been banned from most cruise lines and quite a few hotels as well thanks to the Goode-Tripp family’s connections, though. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that great of a victory since Hollywood still threw a massive wad of cash at him for his own reality show, Bereft for Bebe.

  I hadn’t had time to follow Mimsy’s adventures on her blog. But when Peg booked a voyage for next year to honor Winston Bosley’s bequest, she mentioned that she’d figured out a way to squeeze a little good out of her blog-writing duties. She used the Ask Mimsy section to offer free legal advice to women escaping domestic violence.

  “Do you miss it?” Silas came up next to me and braced his forearms against the railing, watching the dock as it receded out of sight.

  “Miss what?”

  “Your life on land. My first few months a
board were a tough transition. And I grew up a Navy brat.”

  I had to think about it a minute. I missed Addie and my other friends. I missed Fellini’s pizza and Saturday morning doughnut dates with my dad.

  But wrangling relaxed cruise-goers was ten times less stressful and more fun than dealing with demanding brides and horked-off future mothers-in-law.

  “Nah,” I said, leaning forward until our arms almost touched. “I’m just ready for our next adventure.”

  As long as no more murderers came aboard, it was clear sailing.

  The End

  Thank you so much for reading! Piper will be back soon with more mayhem and murder on the horizon. If you’d like to be the first to know, please sign up for my newsletter.

  XOXO,

  Georgia

  About the Author

  Hi! I’m Georgia Kains. Thank you so much for reading my book! If you haven’t had a chance already, please consider leaving a review.

  A little about me: I write humorous romantic comedies and funny cozy murder mysteries. Most of my novels are set on or near a beach because the beach is my happy place.

  I live in the South with my hubby and two kids, but in my mind, I’m always near the ocean.

  If you want to stay up-to-date on new releases, giveaways, and freebies, I highly suggest you join my mailing list. (No spam. Pinky swear.)

  www.georgiakains.com

  Also by Georgia Kains

  Death In A Deck Chair