by Emily James
Now I’d hope that I was right that Hart would come at this sideways in order to avoid a co-worker out for revenge.
He dialed. A woman picked up, and he asked if Nat was available. The line switched over to canned music. I guess even on cruise ships they wanted people to know that they hadn’t been disconnected, and the only way they could think of to do that was to play music no one would want to listen to normally.
The music stopped.
“This is Nat,” a man’s voice said.
“It’s Rick Hart. I had a couple of things I needed to clear up with you just so I can get the paperwork off my desk.”
My respect for Hart inched up. I still had a suspicion that his approach was about keeping his own neck off the target block if Nat wasn’t involved in this, but he knew how to come at things without raising people’s suspicions. It was probably a skill he’d developed working the cruise ship. He’d have needed to approach anything with a passenger carefully. The last thing he’d have wanted was rumors or fear-mongering onboard.
“Were you working this morning?” Hart asked.
“Yeah.” Nat’s voice took on a cautious edge. “Yoga from six to seven, and then spin class from seven-thirty until eight. Then I had a private training session. Why?”
Those time frames put him in the fitness center at the same time as Carrie. Conceivably he might have been able to run to their room and beat Carrie there, but it wouldn’t have left any time for a confrontation with Garth.
Hart tapped his fingers against his leg. “Nothing to worry about. I had a complaint that the classes were too full, is all, and that it posed a hazard. Did you have many people?”
Nat gave numbers that I assumed were well within capacity. “I can bring you the sign-in sheets on my next break.”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
Also smart. Any or all of those people could confirm Nat’s whereabouts during the time.
Leaving us with the problem of having eliminated our only viable suspect at the moment. Maybe someone else from the game had wanted to hurt Garth. They could have seen the argument between the two and thought they had an opportunity to get rid of Garth while creating reasonable doubt since Nat would seem like he had a motive.
I waved a hand. Hart looked my way.
“Ask about the argument,” I mouthed.
Hart frowned. For a second, I couldn’t tell whether he didn’t want to ask or didn’t understand.
He inclined his head forward slightly and lifted his hands.
He didn’t know what I was trying to say.
I mimed dealing cards.
Hart shrugged.
“You still there?” Nat asked.
“Just…uh…” Hart glanced at his desk. “Just checking the rest of the paperwork.”
He moved around to the other side of his desk. Looking for a pencil and paper for me? He didn’t have time for that. Nat wouldn’t, and probably couldn’t, wait on the phone much longer.
I waved at him again. This time I mimed throwing a punch.
“Here’s the other report,” Hart said. “Something about you arguing with a passenger over money. And it came to blows.”
Oi. That wasn’t exactly what I meant, nor was it what happened.
Radio silence filled the other end of the line.
We were going to lose him. I tried to imitate hugging someone, but from the expression on Hart’s face, I must have looked like I was having some sort of uncontrollable spasm. Good thing my pride had died long ago.
“I’m not trying to hang you out to dry, man,” Hart said. “But my job’s on the line if I don’t check it out.”
“I didn’t hit him.” Nat’s voice had dropped to a whisper. He likely had someone else standing nearby. “I did yell at him. The guy’s a cheat. He cheats people out of money for a living, and he cheats at cards. He didn’t even need the money.”
I cringed. Poor Carrie, hearing that about her husband. If someone had said something like that about Mark, I would have been jumping to his defense, even if it gave our presence away.
One good thing came from it, though. He’d said is. The guy is a cheater, present tense. That, along with his alibi for the window of opportunity, meant he wasn’t our guy after all.
But one of the people at the poker game might still be.
I couldn’t figure out a way to act out for Hart that I needed the other names.
I scooted over to his desk and opened a drawer. I grabbed out a pen.
He moved like he was going to stop me, afraid I was going to write on something official.
I scribbled Ask for names on the palm of my hand and held it up.
He nodded. “I need the names of the other people at the game to clear you.”
“I’ll text them to you.” A short pause. “I gotta go. My next class starts in less than five minutes.”
He hung up without waiting for Hart to tell him they were done.
Hart set the receiver in its cradle. “Why am I really getting that list from Nat? He couldn’t have hurt Mr. Bodie, and we made up the part about someone reporting a fist fight.”
He couldn’t know for sure that there wasn’t a fistfight at Nat’s unsanctioned poker game. He must have guessed because Garth Bodie likely would have reported it much sooner had a staff member actually hit him.
The look on Carrie’s face said she was wondering the same thing about the list, but she didn’t want to undermine me by asking in front of Hart.
“Someone might have considered the verbal argument between Nat and Mr. Bodie as an opportunity to act against Mr. Bodie while also having a more likely suspect in place. If you could tell me when Nat provides you with the list—”
Hart pushed his hand toward me in a stop gesture. “I respect that your job is to look after the interests of the Bodies, but I can’t give you access to names of our passengers or have you harassing them with questions. When Nat provides me with the list later tonight, I’ll discretely talk to each of them and see if any of them even remembers the game in question, let alone knew Mr. Bodie well enough to know when his wife would be absent from their room.” He stepped past us and opened the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s late, and you’ve just dropped extra work on my desk.”
Carrie’s gaze darted between me and Hart. He was in the position of authority, and she clearly had the instinct to obey, but she’d also gotten used to me telling her what to do today.
Since arguing with him wouldn’t get us access to the list, maybe it was time for me to step back. He’d done an okay job questioning Nat. Besides, if we left willingly, he might be more open to informing me if they came up with any leads.
And the bottom line was that I was on my honeymoon, with a sick husband. If someone in an official position was going to investigate this instead of me needing to do it, I should let them.
I held out my hand to Hart. “Thank you for your help. We really appreciate it. It’s reassuring to know that Mr. Bodie’s disappearance is now being taken seriously.”
Hopefully that was the right balance of gratitude, ego-stroking, and guilt-tripping to make sure he did, in fact, treat this like a missing person and follow up.
Carrie mimicked me by shaking Hart’s hand, the shampoo and conditioner wedged into the crook of her other arm.
The expression on his face as we left looked like he thought he might have fallen into an alternate dimension. Either passengers rarely shook his hand or we’d come across as a touch crazy. Maybe a bit of both.
We walked in silence. I felt like throwing out the old Penny for your thoughts? cliché, but I was pretty sure I already knew where her thoughts were.
Halfway back to her cabin, Carrie slowed her steps. “You’re kind of scary.”
I stumbled even though the ship hadn’t lurched. That was definitely not what I’d figured she was thinking. I’d been called a lot of things and accused of a lot of things, but scary hadn’t appeared on the list until today. I wasn’t even sure how to respond. My mom
would have taken it as a compliment, but I wasn’t my mom.
“I guess that helps when you’re a lawyer.” Carrie hugged the toiletries to her chest. “So what do we do now?”
We didn’t do anything. I had to figure out a way to weasel information out of Hart once he talked to the people on the list. Considering I wasn’t a police officer, and—as he’d pointed out—I had no authority on this ship, it was going to be difficult finding a legal way to do it.
Chapter 6
“We should call Erik and Elise,” Mark said once I explained what had happened. “They can look into Garth Bodie, and they might even be able to convince the security office to release the names of the people at the poker game to them.”
I shifted positions so that I could use his chest as a pillow and listen to his heartbeat. We’d snuggled up together on the bed to talk. Mark hadn’t wanted me to take the risk of catching what he had if it was a bug, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to assume we’d have a tomorrow. Carrie had gone off to exercise, thinking her husband would be there when she returned, and he hadn’t been.
Life and our time together were going to pass by much quicker than I wanted them to. I wanted to be able to enjoy my job and help people. I also didn’t want to look back on my life and regret that I hadn’t spent more time with Mark. That was the balance that I didn’t know how to find.
Mark jiggled his shoulder. “Have you fallen asleep on me?”
I grimaced against the fabric of his pajamas. “Sorry. No. You’re right, but I hope I get Elise. I don’t want the fifth degree from Erik about solving crimes on our honeymoon.”
Mark chuckled. His chest sounded clear. I didn’t hear any rattle or wheeze that I’d expect if he’d contracted pneumonia or something like that.
“You’re still worrying about me, aren’t you?” He spoke it more as a statement than a question.
“Maybe.”
“You don’t need to. This will pass, and we’ll enjoy the rest of our trip together as soon as it does.”
“Are you feeling any better?”
The fact that he didn’t answer told me everything I needed to know. He hadn’t improved. After I called Elise, I was going to do an Internet search for how long food poisoning could last.
* * *
The cruise ship ran on Pacific Standard Time because it departed from California, so I stayed up until three in the morning to be able to catch Elise, as she started work at six. I wanted to give her as much time as possible to look into things.
Elise’s phone rang twice. “Scott.”
Even though Elise had legally changed her last name after she married Erik, she still went by Elise Scott at work. They’d decided it would be too confusing having an Officer Higgins and a Sergeant Higgins working together.
I opened my mouth to respond, and a giant yawn came out instead.
“Nicole? Is that you?”
It said something that Elise recognized my yawn, but I was too tired to figure out what. “Sorry. I haven’t had any sleep.”
Elise let out a tiny snort. “Since you’re married to my cousin, there are probably some things you shouldn’t tell me about your wedded bliss.”
Yarg. That was even more embarrassing than my game of charades in front of Hart earlier tonight…err, late last night. “You might wish that was why I wasn’t sleeping once I tell you what’s going on.”
* * *
My cell phone ringing woke me up. I groped around in the dark for it. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten the plan that allowed me to make calls without astronomical roaming charges while we were out of the country. At this point, I was thinking we should have rented a remote cabin somewhere, even if it was cold and I had to cook.
Fair Haven Police Department flashed on the screen. Elise must have found something and forgotten about the time difference despite my request that she hold off calling until after ten her time. According to my phone, it wasn’t yet five in the morning my time. This was worse than jetlag.
I scooped up the phone and took it into the bathroom so my conversation wouldn’t keep Mark awake.
“What did you find?” I asked, skipping the hello. She was doing me a favor, but even I couldn’t be chipper at this time of the morning, on less than two hours’ sleep.
“That you might, in fact, be a serial killer or a psychopath,” Chief McTavish’s voice answered back through the phone. “And that you still think this department is your own personal gophers.”
The phone slipped in my grip. Oh crap. Elise had been caught. She’d been reprimanded before for using police resources to search into a case that didn’t belong to her. This time she’d only done it because I’d begged. I should have known she’d get caught. Elise had the stealth tactics of a three-legged elephant.
“No normal person gets involved in a criminal case on their honeymoon,” Chief McTavish continued. I had a feeling I’d already zoned out part of his tirade.
You’d have thought he’d cut me a little slack, considering I’d recently saved his life. Then again, McTavish didn’t cut slack for anyone.
He did believe in justice, though. He also respected people who stood their ground when they were right. And I was right.
I tightened my grip on my phone. “A man disappeared on our cruise ship. His wife thinks something bad happened to him, and the security officers aren’t treating it as a crime. What would you have done?”
His sigh was so loud I might have been able to hear it all the way out at sea without a phone. “Probably something like what you’re doing, but with more respect for the proper authority.”
I thought about sticking my tongue out at the phone, except that McTavish might have sensed it. His sixth sense wasn’t as honed as my mom’s, but it sometimes came close. “What would you have done differently?”
“I’d have called the agent I know with the FBI and passed it through his channels.”
Even though we weren’t in U.S. waters, the FBI would be the right ones to handle this. The cruise ship was registered with the U.S. and flew under a U.S. flag. However, a rogue call from some woman on a cruise ship wasn’t likely to result in anyone looking into it quickly enough to catch who was behind this before the cruise ended.
“I don’t have a contact at the FBI, and once this cruise is over, whoever did this will likely get away.” I knew I was being cheeky, but if all McTavish was going to do was chew me out in the middle of the night, I was going back to bed.
“Given the mess your missing man was already in, I’m sure my contact will look into it. If we want him to prioritize this, though, I need to have the list of names from the poker game ready when I call him. There’s no time and not enough evidence to get a warrant for them. He’s not going to set aside what he’s working on to look at this case if we can’t show more proof than you currently have that something illegal went on.”
McTavish and I often differed on what constituted enough evidence. It was likely because of our backgrounds. He felt the need to find evidence that someone like me couldn’t pick apart in a courtroom with alternate explanations. I looked at evidence from the perspective of what would likely make a jury pass the point of reasonable doubt.
Wait. Had he said already in, not is in? “Something turned up in the search on Garth Bodie?”
“You could say that. He’s been accused of mismanaging client funds for his own benefit. It’s possible that someone on that list or a member of their family was financially screwed by Bodie and saw their chance for revenge.”
Chapter 7
If I had to make a guess, I would have said that that was exactly what happened to Garth. More than that, I had a feeling that one of the names on the list from the poker game would show a connection to him. It was possible he’d given them a chance to win some of their money and then had cheated at poker, costing them more. Or even won fairly. Either would have been rough to take.
Nat had accused Garth of cheating people out of their money in his job. That meant that at least some
of the people at the private game knew what he did. Moreover, they knew he’d been accused of illegal activity within his job. That wasn’t the kind of thing people tended to share, especially when participating in a game where money was on the line. Someone there must have known in advance.
“I’ll get you the list today.” Somehow.
“Try not to step on too many toes to do it,” McTavish said.
That time I did stick my tongue out at the phone. At least he hadn’t told me to do it legally. He knew I wouldn’t cross those lines. Aside from the fact that anything we got illegally wouldn’t be admissible in court, I didn’t want to betray my faith by being unethical.
Since Hart wasn’t likely to be in the security office at this time of night, I crawled back in bed, with the alarm on my phone set for seven. I was going to be a zombie tomorrow…minus the brain-eating part of course.
Honeymoons were supposed to be a restful time of bonding as husband and wife. Mark and I hadn’t done anything the traditional way so far. Why start now?
* * *
When I walked into the security office right after breakfast, Hart was leaned back in a chair, chugging coffee like he hadn’t gotten much more sleep than I had. He’d probably been up all night, trying to decide whether or not he believed this was a criminal case.
His cheeks billowed out as if he were trying not to spit coffee across the room at the sight of me.
He swallowed down the gulp he’d just taken. “I haven’t even started my day yet, let alone had time to speak to the guests who might have been at that game.”
The way he phrased it was interesting. It sounded like he hadn’t seen the list he asked Nat to text him. I’d been under the impression that he expected Nat to send him a list as soon as he finished his class. That might simply have been an assumption I made, though. My mind was too fuzzy from lack of sleep to remember exactly what’d been said.
I couldn’t shake McTavish’s admonition not to step on too many toes. The man was irritating. The last thing I wanted to do was prove him right. Rather than demanding to know if Nat had delivered the list, I’d come at it sideways. “Were there many names to follow up on?