A Witch On The High Seas - A Paranormal Cozy Mystery (Merryweather Mysteries Book 2)

by Jenny Bankhead

  Poor thing, Lorna thought, as she moved away from the pile of rackets. She still had the turquoise one in her hand.

  When she got to the benches, she took her seat next to Betty. “There’s a real character over by the pool area,” she whispered.

  “I get the feeling that there are many characters aboard this ship,” Betty said, grinning.

  “Yes. This one happens to have a real mean streak,” Lorna said. “And there’s a poor twenty-something girl with her. I think it must be her assistant.”

  Betty paused and lifted her chin. She became as still as a statue. After a moment, she said, “Yes, I can sense it. Poor thing. Let’s send her some good energy.”

  Lorna closed her eyes and focused her energy on the frail slender young woman. Though she used her powers so infrequently that they were quite rusty, she generally could always summon up enough energy to help someone in need. Once she felt she’d sent enough, she opened her eyes.

  Betty nodded. That’s that, she silently transmitted.

  Just then, Al came jogging towards them. As he ran, he blew a whistle that hung around his neck: Tweet! Tweet! “Gather up,” he shouted. “I need all my five o’clocks, right here, pronto! It’s time for our lesson!”

  Chapter 4

  “Well that was an adventure,” Lorna said, heaving the bag of goods she’d purchased down on top of the bed. “Now, how in the world am I going to pack all of this? How do you plan—”

  Lorna pivoted and looked across the room towards Betty’s side of the suite. She stopped her sentence short as she saw Betty was already zipping up her little compact suitcase.

  “How did you…” Lorna asked, wondering where Betty’s pile of purchased goods had disappeared to.

  They had been aboard the Mariasca for three days now. Each day, the ship stopped in a new city. Today’s stop was Alicante, a port city on Spain’s Costa Blanca.

  While strolling through the city’s ancient, cobblestone streets, both women had picked up several large ceramic items. Lorna had been attracted to a brightly colored, primitive-looking set of plates, bowls, and mugs. Betty had purchased several vases and planters in muted colors. Where did they disappear to?

  There was a twinkle in Betty’s vacant, blue eyes. “Haven’t you learned better than to ask such a question?” Betty asked.

  Lorna sighed and turned her attention back to the bed. “Yes, you’re right,” she said. She eyed her pile of crafts. In addition to the ceramics, she’d been unable to resist the handmade lace. When she learned that the ancient city was known for production of Teneriffe lace, she simply had to have some. The delicate pattern of the unique lace was made out of many small circles. The long, narrow piece that she had purchased would make a delightful table runner.

  Lorna knew that in the years to come, whenever she looked at that lace, she would recall the wonderful time she’d had on the Mariasca, sailing the Mediterranean and exploring exotic port cities. But for right now, the puzzle remained—how to get it all home.

  “Do you think you could do a bit of that magic over here?” Lorna asked, pondering the pile of new goods and her already stuffed suitcase.

  “I could,” Betty said. “But I vote that we have a spot of dinner first. I’m absolutely famished.”

  “How democratic of you!” Lorna said. “Well, I second your vote, Mrs. Wardenshire. This little project will have to wait.” She waved her arms over the mess on the bed, hoping that it might magically disappear. It did not. In truth, she had also worked up an appetite hiking around the Alicante, and though she hated leaving things untidy, she knew that she needed food.

  “It’s unanimous then!” Betty gave a girlish grin. “To the dining hall, it is. Let’s hope the menu is a bit simpler tonight.”

  “I doubt it.” Since boarding the ship three days ago, Lorna had eaten more gourmet food than ever before in her life. The dishes were complex and intricate. She was doubtful that tonight would be any different.

  It seemed that the three private chefs on the boat were constantly out to top one another. Every meal came in three courses: appetizers, entrees, and desserts. Each plate looked like something straight from the pages of Gourmet magazine. Lorna’s favorite so far had been prawns balanced on a little disc of avocado salsa, drizzled with balsamic reduction and then finished off with cilantro foam. It had been truly a work of art, though the whole thing was only one mouthful worth of food.

  “What I’d give for a hearty plate of bangers and mash,” mused Betty.

  Lorna’s stomach growled. That did sound good. “Let me freshen up,” she said. “And then we’ll go.”

  Lorna quickly washed her face and then spruced up her outfit with the addition of her favorite necklace. She’d purchased it back in Florida. It featured a magnificent, iridescent seashell front and center—perfect for dining on a ship in the middle of the sea.

  The two women made their way to the indoor bar, where many passengers had already gathered for dinner though it was only five o’clock.

  When they sat down at a vacant table, a man with a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt joined them.

  “May I?” he asked, already setting down the drink he was carrying. The drink was pink, slushy, and had a little umbrella poking out of it. Lorna thought it looked quite refreshing.

  “Go right ahead,” Lorna said. “It’s just the two of us tonight.”

  “How wonderful for me,” the jubilant man said. From the looks of his rosy cheeks and his effusive attitude, Lorna suspected that he had been drinking for the past few hours, or even the whole day.

  As he moved aside his chair and plopped into it, he managed to catch the side of the white tablecloth under his meaty thigh. The whole cloth shifted, jostling all of the settings towards him a few inches. Several empty wine glasses toppled over.

  “Oops! My bad,” the man said happily, as though that kind of thing happened all the time. He didn’t bother righting the glasses. “Name’s Charlie Wright. Head of Security on the Mariasca.”

  Lorna was dumbfounded. She wasn’t sure what she expected of the head of security, but certainly not this. I suppose since I’ve never been on a cruise ship, I’ve gotten all my notions from movies, she thought.

  In the films, security men were all buff and brawny, and they wore aviator glasses and little earpieces. They stood like stone statues, ready to spring into action.

  Charlie reached for his pink drink. In the process, two more empty glasses crashed to the table.

  Lorna sighed.

  “What’s all that noise?” Betty asked. “Have we entered choppy waters?”

  Charlie laughed heartily and still didn’t bother righting the glasses. Lorna began busily tidying the entire table. Someone had to do it.

  “Not even close!” Charlie said. “Sea’s been smooth as a baby’s bottom all day, and it won’t change tonight. Was just talking to Captain Lou this morning, and he said to expect smooth sailing for the rest of the trip. Four more nights at sea.”

  “How is security on board?” Lorna asked just as a waitress arrived with a tray of drinks. Lorna looked over the options and picked out two glasses of red wine for herself and Betty. The server also deposited a little embossed card that described the menu for the evening.

  Lorna began reading over the menu, her mouth watering.

  Charlie leaned back in his chair, and it tipped precariously. “Oh, same as ever,” he said. “I’ve been on this post for five years now, and nothing more than a stolen purse has ever occurred. And even that wasn’t serious. The woman just thought her purse had been stolen, but really it had slipped under the bed when the sea pitched. That was back in the summer of ’91 when we had a few storms roll through.”

  Lorna was thankful that their journey was free from pitching seas.

  Charlie laughed. “Besides that, I haven’t had to file one single incident report. Beats working for the Metropolitan Police, I’ll say that much.” He looked pleased with himself as he took a healthy swig of his slushy cocktail.
>
  “Were you with the police?” Lorna asked. She was curious how this man, who looked for all the world like a drunken sailor, had managed to hold down a position with the police.

  “Oh yes,” Charlie said. “In London, for ten years. Would you believe it?”

  No, Lorna would not. “No!” she said. “Really? If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t seem to be the type to work for the London Police. They seem to be so militant. You’re so…jolly.”

  Jolly was a good word for him. His face fell slightly, and Lorna wondered if she’d said too much. His smile returned just a moment later as the waitress placed three plates down on the table, one in front of each guest.

  “I am jolly,” he said, scooping up the entire little pile of food onto his fork in one swoop. He pushed it into his mouth and started chewing, closing his eyes as he did so. “Mmm, mmm! Now that’s flavor.”

  “What is it?” Betty asked, using her fork to prod the petite pile of food on her plate.

  Lorna looked at the colorful stack of ingredients. She saw a slab of glistening pink, slices of orange and yellow, and little sprigs of green. The whole tower sat in a puddle of translucent yellow sauce. She had no idea what it was.

  Lorna lifted the embossed menu card and read aloud. “Appetizer—ahi tuna crudo with pear, blood orange, fennel, and chive salad.”

  “This is a salad?” Betty asked in disbelief, while still prodding the food in front of her.

  “Apparently,” Lorna said.

  Meanwhile, Charlie was in heaven. He’d washed his bite down the hatch with a gulp of his pomegranate daiquiri and was thinking about how well the tangy pomegranate flavors complemented the sweet aftertaste of pear.

  “This table is fine.” A caustic voice, female, with a Spanish accent, interrupted the quiet that had settled over the table.

  Lorna looked away from the curious food on her plate and saw that the woman in the Jackie-O glasses—which were now propped on her head like a tiara—was going to join them. At her side was her apologetic companion, Paula.

  “Okay, Ana,” Paula said, taking a seat as well.

  Paula looked around the table. “Everyone, this is Ana Almeda.” She said this grandly, as if presenting the table with the Queen of England. Then her voice lowered to a mumble. “I am her assistant, Paula.”

  It seemed that Paula was in charge of making introductions. Lorna felt sorry for the girl. How embarrassing! Lorna thought. To go around introducing someone as if they’re royalty, and you’re nothing but an afterthought.

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Betty. “You didn’t happen to bring some bangers and mash with you? Or a nice slab of Yorkshire pudding?”

  Paula gave a soft laugh, but then she covered her mouth with a napkin at the sight of Ana’s glare.

  “No,” said Ana haughtily. “We don’t travel with food in our purses. This food is five-star, so I can’t imagine what you’re complaining about.”

  A hush blanketed the table.

  Well, thought Lorna, she certainly says what’s on her mind, without regard to others. Lorna thought she saw Betty’s mouth turning to a frown, which was a very rare occurrence. Betty was always ready with a grin.

  Lorna piped up before the corners of Betty’s mouth could sink any lower.

  “I often travel with food in my purse,” Lorna joked. “The trouble is, I forgot my mushy peas in my pool bag. Drat!” She snapped her fingers playfully.

  Betty giggled at her friend’s joke. Mushy peas were Betty’s favorite.

  That’s better, thought Lorna as her friend laughed. Tentatively, Lorna scooped up the chunk of ahi tuna. Here goes nothing! she thought, as she lifted the fork to her lips.

  The slippery pink meat tasted nothing like the tuna from a can she was used to. It was subtle and sweet, and actually quite delightful. She only wished that she had six more forkfuls in front of her.

  “Here, you can have mine,” Betty said, reading Lorna’s thoughts.

  Lorna accepted the dish that Betty nudged towards her and scooped up the ahi tuna with one swipe. Charlie looked on enviously. He seemed to want six more platefuls as well.

  Paula was busy ordering custom drinks from the waitress. Ana always refused the glasses of white or red wine that were offered to all of the diners. Instead, she ordered a drink that was so dreadfully specific that it took Paula two whole minutes just to get the words out. When Paula finished the long string of instructions, which sounded more like a how-to article than a drink order, she sucked in air to catch her breath. Reciting the order actually made her winded.

  “What about you, miss? What would you like tonight? White or red wine?” The waitress held the tray of drinks in front of Paula’s nose.

  “Oh, me?” Paula asked in her breathy, whisper of a voice. “No, no wine for me. I’ll just have a water, please.”

  Conversation continued around the table as two more courses of the meal were served. To Lorna’s relief, Betty enjoyed the main course of the meal: duck confit with Carlsbad dumplings and red cabbage. And they were both pleasantly surprised by the dessert, which was small in volume but so rich that it was quite satisfying. Three bites of the decadent cheesecake topped with strawberries and mint leaves was perfect; more would have given one a stomachache.

  As the servers cleared the last of the plates and started weaving through the tables to offer coffee or tea, the piano music that had been playing in the background stopped. An MC took over the sound system and announced that the evening’s entertainment would soon begin.

  “Dancing!” Charlie said. His eyes were shining with excitement. They also may have been shining because he was now on his third daiquiri since sitting down. He rubbed his beefy hands together, knocking his napkin to the ground in the process. “This is my favorite act.”

  “We quite liked the magic show,” Betty said.

  “And the cabaret,” chimed in Lorna.

  “I thought the cabaret was awful,” Ana said. “If you liked that, then you’re clearly not used to true theater.”

  Paula looked down at her lap, clearly embarrassed by her employer’s lack of social graces.

  “We’re from the countryside,” explained Betty, without a trace of defensiveness.

  Lorna felt ruffled by Ana’s backhanded insult, but decided to take the high road that Betty was already traveling down.

  “Yes, out where we are, the closest thing we’ve come to theater is the yearly One Act Plays which are put on by some of the locals. It’s a very simple production,” Lorna said.

  “Simple” was the key word. The “evening of one-acts,” hosted by Muriel, were very simple indeed. Not only did Muriel host the event, but she also wrote, starred in, and catered the entire event, which took place in the thick of winter. Lorna suspected that the production was a scheme to boost business during the slow months when villagers preferred to stay inside and cozy rather than venture out for a jaunt to the cafe.

  “I attend Broadway productions regularly,” boasted Ana. “I’m also a benefactor of the Theatre Real Opera House, and I make sure to attend at least one ballet a year, especially when I’m in Prague. They have the world’s best ballet company. Now that’s dancing.”

  “I’m guessing those ballerinas in Prague have nothing on our Sandy,” Charlie said seriously. He seemed to mean it. “She is really good. Wait until you see her.”

  Ana scoffed. “Yes, I’m sure a dancer on a cruise ship has better form than a trained ballerina.” Her tone was clearly sarcastic.

  Charlie failed to pick up on Ana’s sarcasm. “That’s it!” he said merrily. “Her form is better. I couldn’t think of the right word to describe it, but you just hit the nail on the head. Wait until you see her form.”

  “She must be very good,” Lorna said. “You seem to be quite a fan.”

  Charlie bobbed his head up and down. “Oh, yes. She has lots of fans on this ship. She’s almost treated like a celebrity below deck.”

  “Below deck?” Lorna asked. Though she and Betty had
thoroughly explored the top two levels of the ship, they hadn’t found any accessible stairways to take them to the largest, lowest level of the ship. She was very curious about what went on down there.

  “It’s where the staff housing is,” explained Charlie. “And all of the ship’s infrastructure. You know—plumbing, laundry rooms, kitchen, food storage, the infirmary. It takes a whole lot of work behind the scenes to keep up appearances on these upper decks.”

  “I see,” Lorna said. She wondered why she hadn't figured that out before. All of the magnificence around her these last few days reminded her of a sparkling movie set. It was all crafted to give the appearance of grandeur and luxury. Behind the scenes, people were working very hard to produce the setting.

  Charlie went on. “Oh yes. Staff have their own dining area down there and everything.”

  “But you don’t eat down there?” asked Betty.

  “No! No, no. There’s no ahi tuna down there, that’s for sure.” Charlie had developed a real palate for gourmet foods.

  “It’s nice that your employers let you eat here,” Betty said.

  “It’s for surveillance,” Charlie said. “From up here, I can best keep track of the activities on the ship.”

  In her peripheral vision, Lorna caught sight of Ana rolling her eyes. Ana, for one, seemed skeptical that Charlie was “keeping track” of anything.

  Lorna had to agree. The only thing that Charlie seemed to be keeping track of was where his next meal would come from. Oh well, Lorna thought. He’s got a cushy job. Why shouldn’t he enjoy it? After all, he said it himself. This place is crime-free.

  Oh, how wrong Lorna was! But she couldn’t possibly know this yet. Three days into her journey on the sea, she was blissfully unaware of the dark turn her trip would take.

  Chapter 5

  Maybe I shouldn’t have left my spell book at home, Lorna thought, peering at her reflection in the mirror. If I had it, maybe I could conjure up a spell that would give me the clarity of mind to know what to do about this outfit. It’s awful.