Death on the Diversion

by Patricia McLinn

  I’d gotten the distinction between the officers and the rest, but… “I’m sorry, Eristo, I don’t understand who’s crew and who’s staff. I thought everyone was part of the crew.”

  He scoffed at that with a discreet snort. “Those who give the shows, who sell in the shops and such, say they are staff. We who care for the guests are crew. Stewards, waiters, cleaners, bartenders—” His expression told me something important was coming. “—those who offer the towels.”

  I treaded carefully. “You know all these people? The bartenders, the waiters, the people who offer towels?”

  “Many I know. Often not well, but a little. Some I know well.”

  I thought about the musicians. Anya and Pyorte, Henri Lipke had called them. But according to Eristo, they were staff, while he was crew.

  Those who offer the towels. Had I imagined his emphasis?

  I didn’t want to jump right in with Badar, but I couldn’t think of anyone else, and I’d already waited too long. The opening would close—

  I blurted, “Do you know Jason? The bartender Jason?”

  His shoulders dropped slightly. Relaxing. Talking about Jason didn’t worry him. Perhaps that’s why he said, “His head cannot get through many doors.”

  I puffed out a brief, surprised laugh. “I suspected that.” With the atmosphere lighter, I went for it. “What about Badar?”

  “A bartender?” He was buying time.

  “No. He is not a bartender. Not that I know of, anyway. He gives out towels.”

  “Ah.” He looked down at his hands. I waited. Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Eristo tightened. They passed the door unchecked and a layer of his tension eased. He breathed out through his nose. “He is off his duties now. He has been asked to talk to the Chief Security Officer.” Another pause. “Since more than two hours.”

  About the time I mentioned a run-in between a towel guy and Leah to Henri Lipke, even though I hadn’t mentioned the name. How had they known? I wondered if anyone else was answering questions. For instance, members of the Marry-Go-Round group beyond Wardham. Or the musician couple.

  Unaware of my wondering, Eristo continued, “One who does know him is a friend of my girlfriend. She is a good woman, even though she is staff. She works in the spa. You know her, maybe?”

  My brain was a beat slow. Maybe I knew his girlfriend? Or Badar’s girlfriend? “I don’t think—”

  “You have, I see, a manicure from the spa?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Maybe you need improvement on your manicure? Fixes. Need to see her again. Sit with her right there, close to you. Easy to talk then.”

  Imka?

  Tentatively, I said, “That could be a nice break for me after all the questions I’ve answered.”

  He nodded encouragingly.

  “The woman who did my nails before was wonderful. Imka. That was her name. Imka from South Africa.”

  “Yes, she is nice lady.” He gave me an intense look. “She has someone she cares about. A member of the crew. He has hot head sometimes. He says things sometimes, things not good to say. To guests. To officers. Imka says this is only because he is smart and feels things strong.”

  Ah. She’d fallen for a Mr. Tactful.

  Didn’t need a pricking in my thumbs to guess which Mr. Tactful.

  “Imka’s boyfriend is Badar, who works at the towel desk?”

  Eristo went on alert. I didn’t think I’d said anything remarkable. He’d made it darned clear.

  Then I, too, heard what sounded like footsteps coming to a stop by my door.

  He might have good reason for being cagey in what he said to me, since I knew from other cruises that fraternizing with the passengers was strictly against the rules for crew — and staff.

  I raised my voice. “Yes, thank you for that suggestion, Eristo. That does sound good. I’ll see if I can get a spa appointment—”

  “I am sure miss can have time with this woman who does nails in—” He looked at his electronic watch. “—ten minutes.”

  “Great.” I dropped to a whisper. “But how did Imka know you’re my steward—?”

  He kept his voice low, too. “There are many connections in the crew. We know many things.”

  That was a bit scary, but I’d worry about that later. Back to full voice. “I guess I better get up there then. I’ll …” I gestured toward the bathroom.

  He immediately backed to the hall door. “Yes, miss. If you want me to bring down your suitcase?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve, uh, changed my mind.”

  “Yes, miss.” Then, with more emphasis. “Thank you, miss.”

  * * * *

  Four minutes later, I was on my way to the spa, without even opening the door to the balcony for that dose of fresh air I sorely needed.

  Working backward from the breadcrumbs Eristo had left, Imka wanted to talk to me. She’d either known or found out that Eristo was steward for my cabin. She or her friend, Eristo’s girlfriend, asked him to get me up to the spa.

  Imka and Badar. Really? She could do better. She was smarter, kinder, and more personable. Probably not the time to say that to her.

  But why did she want to talk to me?

  First possibility was the grapevine had filled her in and she’d pummel me for hinting at Badar, even without using his name. The better scenario was she thought I could do something to help.

  I was afraid I’d disappoint here there. There was a big gap between brainstorming how to approach a mystery Aunt Kit made up and trying to unravel the real thing.

  Besides, if I were a real sleuth, I should talk to Badar directly.

  Although that might be out of the question. Chances were, the Chief Security Officer had him fully occupied. Even if they weren’t talking to him, they likely had him somewhere a passenger couldn’t wander into and start chatting. Besides, would he want to talk to me? Even if he didn’t know my comments led to his being questioned. On top of all of that, what on earth would I ask him?

  For that matter, what would I talk to Imka about?

  I didn’t know anything about real investigations.

  Yes, you do, Aunt Kit said in my head. You took to it like a duck to water when you started helping me with my mysteries.

  I didn’t have to imagine those words. Just remember them from the numerous times she’d said them.

  “Okay. I’ll do it like we’re in the brownstone.”

  The words calmed me. Unfortunately, I said them aloud in the elevator as it took me to the spa deck and I wasn’t alone. I received wary looks from two robust, white-haired ladies, who let me go first, with plenty of space between us.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Imka must have been watching for me, because she came to the reception desk the instant I arrived. Her smile was broad, but worry dimmed her eyes.

  “Oh, miss, you glow. A man?”

  More like extra desserts. Or… was I glowing from interest in a murder? That wasn’t very nice. Had to be the desserts.

  “No man.” I smiled, not mentioning double desserts. “I’m hoping you might be available to freshen up my manicure. I have a chip.” I fisted my hand so the receptionist couldn’t see its chipless state.

  “I am free now—”

  “Excellent.” I beamed at the receptionist, then took Imka’s limp arm and led her into the nearest little room, closing the door behind us.

  “What’s wrong, Imka?”

  “Nothing, nothing wrong. What can I do for miss today?” she said brightly, but she slumped to the stool in the corner and tears dripped from her closed eyes.

  “Didn’t you want to talk—?”

  Her anxious look toward the door stopped me. It was the same reaction as Eristo.

  Would her fellow employee rat her out to the officers for talking to me? On the other hand, did it matter if the woman really would? As long as Imka worried about it, she wouldn’t talk openly.

  I pulled out my phone, found what I wanted, cranked up the volume on my Chri
stmas playlist, left the phone on a counter near the door, then joined Imka on the other side of the room. Only four feet separated us from the door, but with our heads close together and the wall of sound between us and the door, we couldn’t be overheard.

  If I could get Imka to talk.

  I barely stopped myself from humming The Little Drummer Boy.

  “It’s safe now. Tell me why you wanted me to come here.”

  “That woman. That woman … you found her? Dead?” She spoke hesitantly, but she was talking.

  “Yes.”

  “Was she… Could it be an accident? Or suicide?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip.

  I let the silence expand.

  Finally, with a huff of breath, she said, “I have a boyfriend, a serious boyfriend, no matter what some say.” She tossed a glare in the direction of the reception desk, providing a clue about who might say that. “He is smart and he feels things, you know?”

  Almost the same thing Eristo had said. Gee, wonder where he’d heard it.

  “You are smart. Everyone says so. And famous.” She gripped my arm. “You help him? You can help him? Please?”

  “Help him? How?”

  “They accuse that he did this thing. They believe he— You know. The lady you found when no one else did. On the deck.”

  I couldn’t say it was a great surprise. Not after Eristo. Still, it was another thing to have it right in my face.

  The ship’s officials suspected Badar of murdering Leah.

  Even without naming him, I’d provided his possible motive. (Clearly, Imka didn’t know I was their source for that tidbit. I hoped she didn’t find out.)

  And now Imka wanted me to help clear him.

  Gulp.

  “Why do you think they suspect your friend?”

  “They ask him questions and questions and questions. They ask where he was each second. I know he cannot say.”

  “Sure. It’s hard to account for your whereabouts every second.”

  “He knows. He cannot say.” She emphasized the second sentence.

  Great. He was hiding something. That did not bode well for Imka’s romantic future with this guy. “To protect you? If the two of you were together—?”

  “No, no. We were not. It is his honor he protects.”

  “His honor? He told you—?”

  “When we first heard about the dead woman, before they took him for questions, he told me he has sworn to tell no one. It is not his secret, he said. He would not tell me. He will not tell the officers.”

  “But if he has an alibi— If he can prove where he was when they think she was killed, he could—”

  “He will not.”

  She said it with such finality, even a shade of pride, that it effectively blocked that avenue.

  I shuffled what I knew at this instant and tried again. “If all they were doing was questioning him—”

  “So long.”

  “—you can’t get too worked up about that, Imka. They’ll ask a lot of questions of a lot of people. That’s how these things work.” That sounded confident. As if I knew from personal experience, rather than from books and tagging along with Aunt Kit on research gigs.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  What I didn’t say was that I knew things the officials would be interested in hearing and which might make Badar look more guilty. Like the details of the exchange over the towels and the indication it wasn’t their first clash.

  My instinct had been to not share that, but maybe I should. Maybe it was wrong to keep things from the officials investigating.

  Aunt Kit’s voice in my head snorted disdain for that idea.

  Yeah, Kit, but dealing with a real murder…

  She snorted again.

  Well… I didn’t have to make a decision about giving the officials details right this minute.

  “Imka, you can help Badar by telling me the truth.” I stifled an If he’s innocent.

  “I tell you the truth, but how does it help my Badar?” she asked.

  “To find who did this and remove all suspicion from Badar. Hiding things will cause confusion, even suspicion.” I paused a moment. “You might not want to be real open with your bosses. I understand that. Crew— People working on the ship knew Leah from other cruises, didn’t they?” She remained wary, no smile in her lovely eyes. “The she-devil’s onboard.”

  She recognized the words. It flickered in her eyes.

  “Your bosses already know, don’t they? They know the crew, the staff — like all you here at the spa — consider Leah Treusault the she-devil. Can it hurt to tell me?”

  “She was not a nice woman, not a kind woman.”

  “That’s true.”

  “She was on the ship a year ago.”

  “I know. Did something happen involving her?”

  “With that one? Always.”

  When she seemed to stall there, I asked, “Like with Badar.”

  “No. Not like Badar. She tried to make that other … do things. You know. Man and woman things. He was young. He was new steward. Didn’t know how to handle a passenger. He ran out, made a big deal. They gave him different cabins, gave her and her man a different steward. Someone old. Someone who knew.

  “But she kept after that first one, trying to find him, trying to catch him in other cabins. He left after. Said the money is not worth a crazy person like that.”

  Did Pyorte, the guitar player feel that way, too? Or had he found a different solution to Leah’s unwelcomed pursuit?

  Suddenly, Imka said vehemently, “It’s not like they say. That he hates her. Because of the other times she is on the ship.” Ah, the officials already knew there’d been previous conflict between Badar and Leah. That lifted that burden off me at the same time I felt unreasonably irked that others knew what I’d thought was my discovery. “He does not like many, many of the passengers like her who come often and oft—”

  Dismay clouded her eyes as she heard her words.

  I leaned closer, put my hand on her arm. “I know. Lots of people didn’t like her. She wasn’t nice. Not to a lot of people. And you — crew and staff — had to take it. But you’re right, that doesn’t mean he killed her.” I extended what she’d said. “His not liking a number of the passengers, including repeat passengers, doesn’t mean he killed her, either, because then a lot more people would be dead. Logical?”

  Her eyes widened, then slowly nodded.

  “What happened when Badar met that passenger — Leah — before?”

  She gave an elaborate shrug. “Nothing. She’s not nice, but that is how she is.” Another shrug. This one would-be philosophical.

  “What dealings had you had with her before?”

  “I do her nails once. She is not happy. I feel bad to start. But she is not happy ever. Not with anyone in the spa. Maybe not with anyone on the ship.”

  That sounded right. But wasn’t new information.

  “Tell me when you last talked to Badar.”

  “This morning. After they — you found that woman. We pass for a moment on I-95 and—”

  “I-95?”

  Her mouth flickered toward her usual smile. “It is what they call the main hallway where many cross paths, much comes in and goes out, all below the passengers, without you ever knowing.”

  “Okay. You ran into each other and had a minute to talk, what did he say?”

  She spread her hands. “There is little to tell. We both say we have heard that news. He says he heard who the passenger was who died. He says he cannot say where he was last, but we don’t talk long.”

  I sat back a little, drumming my finger in time to Joy to the World.

  “I saw him giving out towels yesterday afternoon. Do you know what he did after that?”

  Apparently glad to contribute, she said, “When the pool closed, Badar stayed to close the towel stand. He stored the clean towels. He carried the used towels to the laundry, as he alwa
ys does. I saw him, then, for two minutes, three minutes, four minutes. No more. Then I return to here. He has short time to eat, because he has next to offer drinks to guests who do the dancing on the deck by the pool.”

  Serving drinks to the passengers…

  I heard they could see it was a waiter, but not which one…

  And Badar had been a waiter last night.

  Wait. How could the officials know it was a waiter on CCTV if they couldn’t recognize the person?

  Oh. Right. Had to be. How slow was I? They could tell the person wore a waiter’s tunic.

  I found a small smile for Imka. “Yes, the waiters look handsome in those tunics.”

  Her smile showed. “He does, my Badar.”

  “Those tunics are kept behind the bar?”

  She shook her head. “No room there. They are in a closet across the way from the bar.”

  The utility closet by the buffet.

  After Leah trashed that waiter, I’d noticed plenty of other crew members going in and out of it. Not even needing pass cards, because it was left open. Anyone could have slipped in there.

  Badar had a tunic. But anyone else could obtain one, too.

  “That’s helpful. See, you know what goes on onboard. You must know a lot about what goes on between the passengers … and others.”

  Her worry instantly deepened. She said nothing.

  “Imka, what did Leah — the woman who was killed — do to Badar?”

  “It is not motive. I know what you look for and it is not,” she said anxiously. “This woman she threaten many, many of crew, of staff, even of officers that she will have us fired. She says this all the time. One, two, maybe she has pushed when they were already on the edge, like the steward. You understand?” I nodded. “But not to end Badar’s contract right that minute. No. No, she could not do such a thing.”

  Maybe, maybe not.

  Did Badar think she could? That was the important element.

  “She told him that on this cruise?”

  “On this cruise, on one before, and one even before that, before I was here to calm him. But saying it many times does not make it so.”

  Not only was she right about that, but her account raised a factor in Badar’s favor. If Leah had been threatening to have him fired across three cruises and it hadn’t happened, why would he suddenly think it might happen this time?