Death on the Diversion

by Patricia McLinn

  “What things?” As eager as she was to help Badar, I heard caution.

  “Remember when I was in here getting my nails done and a group of women came in? Tell me about those women.”

  A flash of something crossed her face. “They have nothing to do with my Badar.”

  An unwelcomed thought came to me: Just how protective was Imka of Badar?

  She knew where the tunics were kept. Likely knew the right time to slip in and get one, too.

  She had the strength to kill Leah. And to carry her to that deck chair.

  Her handling of Petronella alone showed that and then she’d pulled Piper from the windows with no evidence of strain.

  “Maybe not, but, remember, I said the only way I can help him is to find out what happened. The only way you can help him is to help me. If you don’t want to—”

  “No, no. I want to help him. I must. I’ll tell you.”

  “As long as it’s the truth. It won’t help if it’s not the truth.”

  She bobbed her head.

  “Good. Tell me about them.” I left it wide open to see what she came up with on her own.

  She frowned, speaking carefully. “They come to the spa every day. They have many demands. Sometimes they want all to be together. Sometimes all alone. The one — you saw — she leads. Always. They talk one to the other. Not to us. They do not tip.”

  “What do they talk about to each other?”

  She shook her head slightly. “Many things. So many things. Often I don’t want to hear.”

  “It might be important, Imka.”

  “I try.” She went silent, her bright eyes unfocused with concentration. “They talk much of how to get gifts from their husbands. How to value them. They tell each other, too, how to hide such gifts and other—” She looked at me. “Values?”

  “Valuables?”

  “Yes, yes. Valuables. In a box the husbands do not know about. Stash, they say. They talk and talk about this. How best to do this. They talk also about the husbands’ health.” Her brows drew down sharply. “Not for caring.” She released a short sigh. “But not to do anything. No action. Wishing, I think, but no action.”

  “The woman named Coral, the one who pushed the other lady into the window and later tripped on the stairs, does she join them here?”

  “Now, yes. After she fell and even the first day, second day after she returned, not then. They say she sleeps in her cabin.”

  “Were they concerned about her?”

  “No. This one or that one wants her appointment. That is all.”

  “Uh-huh. How about when she started coming, too?”

  She tipped her head. “She complains often. Pain, she says. Also what she cannot do. They have no patience with that. They tell her she will lose her husband. I think they do not want to hear her themselves.”

  Well spotted, Imka.

  “Do you ever see her moving around in a way that might make you think she isn’t hurt as badly as she says?”

  “Some complain if a nail file brushes the skin. Others, you could cut off flesh and they would not. She is the first kind.”

  “I see what you’re saying. I wondered if her injury doesn’t restrict her as much as she indicates. If she can move around more than she shows?”

  “Faking it?” Imka asked.

  “In a way. That’s what I was wondering.”

  “But doctors — on the ship, at that hospital all see her. How could she fool them?”

  That was a good question, but not insurmountable. She could have lied about her level of pain, which would contribute to their diagnosis and treatment. She could have vamped at least one into cooperating with her if she was faking it. Or she could have driven the medical staff to the point of accepting her exaggeration to get her out of their hair.

  I went for something less complicated.

  “You see things other people don’t.”

  She nodded. “I say her pain is not so great as she says. But if she could, she would keep together with the others when they walk too fast for her.”

  Well spotted again. “That’s an excellent point, Imka.”

  “Also, she would wear the heels. She is not happy with the shoe she must wear to make it even with the cast. She says it makes her leg look like a sausage.” Her smile flashed. “And Miss— the lady she push into the window agrees, it does look like a sausage, which makes the lady with the leg very, very angry. Her face is red. The others, they talk of her. When she is not here, they do. Not when she is here.”

  “They talk about Coral? The one with the leg?”

  “No. When she was not here, they did not talk of her at all. She did not exist. Or they forget her. I mean the … the other. The one who was pushed into the window by the lady with the leg. They do not forget her when she is not here.”

  “Piper?”

  “Yes, yes, I believe that is what she is called. Miss Piper.” She spoke cautiously.

  “What do they say about her?”

  “She has not been with them a long time. She makes the leader worry. Dark hair? Red lipstick? Tall? She does not want the others to follow this Piper. She says often that she is new, is pushy, is different from them. Thinks she’s clever.” That last sentence came out as a creditable imitation of the leader’s voice. “Also, the woman of the red hair. She worries about this new lady. But… yes, I think it is a different worry from the dark-haired lady.”

  “In what way?”

  She paused, then shook her head. “I cannot say. I feel it, but the right words aren’t here. Even in my head, in my language.”

  Remembering the redhead’s interactions with Jason the bartender and, later, his exchange of intent stares with Piper, I pushed a bit. I might be putting words in her mouth, but maybe she needed those words.

  “Would you say, Imka, that it was a more personal worry? That the leader is worried Piper might threaten her leadership, but the redheaded woman worries that Piper threatens something else of hers? Something personal, close to her heart?

  The young woman took her time, thinking through what I’d asked. “Yes. That is so.”

  I nodded, satisfied. “If you hear these women saying anything else that you believe might help me…”

  “They are here now.”

  “Here? In the spa?”

  “Yes. Can that help you show Badar did not do this?”

  “It might.” Though taking them on en masse was more than daunting. Before she could pursue her agenda, I added, “You said Badar could not say where he was the night before last. He has to, Imka. He can’t keep it from the ship’s officers.

  “He says he will keep it only to himself. That he must. His honor demands this.”

  She was a surrogate brick wall on behalf of Badar’s honor that I wasn’t getting through. How about around?

  “Who are his friends among the rest of the crew?”

  “Friends?” she repeated doubtfully. “I am his friend.”

  “How about guys? Does he hang around with any guys? Maybe some of the bartenders?”

  “He knows Constantine, who is at the bar by the pool. They eat lunch together many days.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to Constantine. Anybody else? I thought I heard Badar knows bartenders.” She began to shake her head slowly. “What about Jason, who works in the Wayfarer Bar a lot, sometimes at the Atrium bar?”

  She stopped for a beat, then shook her head more vigorously. “Badar does not eat lunch with him. Talk to Constantine. He is roommate with Badar.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Four of the Valkyries occupied chaises in the glass-enclosed Relaxation Room at the back of the ship — Coral, Piper, the redhead, and the leader. That meant one was missing. Possibly having a treatment.

  I took a chair at the end of the line and pulled out a magazine I’d found in the miniature closet they called the ship’s library.

  After saying she’d let me know how to find Constantine when she knew his schedule, Imka had re-polished one of my
nails to have something to show the receptionist and even though the new polish was dry, I held the magazine as if it weren’t.

  I held up the magazine, masking my face. But I could still see the row of feet. All wearing killer-high sandals, except Coral, whose cast-less foot was bare, though still holding that ballet on pointe shape of her habitual shoes.

  “That’s the one who found the body,” Coral said in a stage whisper.

  So much for invisibly eavesdropping.

  Not to be upstaged, the leader said, with an ennui that left me surprised she could summon the energy to speak, “It would have been a lot more exciting if that old lady had been pushed off the rock wall or something like that.”

  “Too much security there,” the redhead said matter-of-factly.

  “What security?” the leader asked, snapped out of her role as Camille on her deathbed.

  “There’s security all over. Well, not all over. There are gaps, but I heard they shoot up the women’s shorts,” the redhead said.

  “No,” gasped Piper. Judging by their faces, she expressed shock for them all. Forget murder, this was serious.

  “There you are. At last,” the leader said.

  I peeked over the top of the magazine to see the fifth member of their group arrive.

  “It wasn’t even all that wonderful,” whined the woman I would forevermore think of as The Other One. “A bunch of hot rocks. C’mon, let’s go. Maybe something will be interesting today.”

  “Where are you going?” Coral demanded. “It’ll take me longer, but—”

  “You can’t expect us to stay here all day. We’re going to the pool. Meeting the boys—”

  I swallowed hard to prevent a sound from escaping at referring to their, um, mature male companions as boys.

  “—to keep them out of trouble and keep them out of the casino. At least keep them from going without us.”

  Three tittered appreciation for the leader’s witticism. Coral complained, “I can’t go to the pool. I can’t get this cast wet.”

  She shrugged. “We’ll be back later for a steam.”

  “Did you hear what I said? I can’t get the cast wet. I can’t go in the steam room.”

  “Oh. See you later.”

  “Tell Fabe that I—”

  They’d gone. She remained.

  After hearing two deep sighs, I slowly lowered the magazine I wasn’t reading.

  Coral was staring — not at the oceanic panorama from the wall of windows, but at her nails.

  “Hi,” I said brightly. Hey, go with the classics, right? “That’s quite the cast.” Skipping the fall seemed a good strategy. I’d bet she’d heard questions and comments about that from nearly everyone. “You’re the passenger who had to go to the hospital in Gibraltar, aren’t you? That must have been dramatic.”

  She looked up. Intrigued?

  “And scary,” I added.

  “Terrifying,” she said with great emphasis. “To be alone and in such awful pain, surrounded by foreigners. I couldn’t understand a thing they said.”

  Alone? Her husband went with her and they’d had cruise line liaisons. As for those foreigners, Gibraltar was held by the British. For Coral, maybe the Queen’s English was a foreign language.

  Nope. Wasn’t saying any of that.

  “How awful. It’s a miracle you rejoined the cruise.”

  “I wasn’t letting them go on without me.” From that strident statement, she went limp. “No matter what it cost me.”

  Them. Her friends? Or did she mean something else?

  “It’s understandable you don’t want to miss out when you have a group that’s been traveling together for a long time.”

  “For years and years. Might even be five by now. Except some,” she ended darkly.

  “Oh?” I hoped that would start her talking. Instead, she humphed. Use your words, Coral. Remembering what Coral shouted at Piper before pushing her onto the windows, I added, “Sometimes someone new coming into a group changes the dynamic. Changes how everyone interacts.”

  “That’s the truth. I mean, Fabe — Faber — has known Boyd forever and he fits in with the boys. Even though when they play golf and need a foursome, he makes five. But Fabe says a lot of times one of them can’t play or they want to invite business associates and they can do two foursomes or something like that. And he’s been good for their, like, networking, you know. New blood.”

  “You don’t play golf?”

  “God, no. None of us do. Except Piper. And isn’t that just wonderful when they ask her to fill a second foursome or something. Her and the boys.” Her sarcasm knew no subtlety. “She gets along great with them.”

  “And with the girls…?” I lightly prodded.

  “She acts like she’s been with us all along or is the most important or something. If I came into a new group I’d be, like, letting the others go first, you know? Humble.”

  “At least she was there for you when you fell.”

  “Fat lot of good she did. She stood there, staring.”

  “How did you fall, by the way?”

  “What do you mean how did I fall? I went backward.”

  “Why? You said it wasn’t your shoes. What was it?”

  She huffed impatiently. “It was the damn stairs. I don’t care how many times they say there was nothing wrong and they can show us all the pictures in the world. There was something there, under my foot. Something round and hard. It rolled when I stepped on it. And I went backward. Fabe’ll sue their asses.”

  My murmuring of how awful that was opened the way for her monologue about her injuries and treatment, while I thought about other things.

  Why would Leah trip Coral with her cane, then wait to threaten her until the night before Leah died. Leah could have thought she’d dealt with whatever problem Coral posed her with the fall.

  But Leah’s comments to the person by the elevator sounded more like Leah was the threat to that person. Not the other way around.

  So, why had she tripped Coral?

  She drew a breath. I jumped in. “Do you or your friends know any of the people onboard this cruise?”

  She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Of course, we do. We know each other at home, like I said.”

  As gently as I could, I said, “Besides your group. Do any of you know anyone outside your group?”

  She jerked an uninterested shoulder. “Nah.”

  “But you’ve been on this cruise before, right? Some of the same crew and staff and officers have been on the ship.”

  “Oh, them. I thought you meant like real people.”

  If metaphorical tongue-biting drew blood I would have been covered in it. “Do you know any of them?”

  “Nah.”

  If she wasn’t bored by the topic, she was a great actress.

  * * * *

  “Hello, dear, found your earring?” the elderly man asked as I came down the stairs from the spa deck.

  Earring? Oh. Right. That’s why he looked familiar. He’d been one of the searchers. I need an app to keep track of my fibs.

  “I did. Thank you for your help and thank you for asking.”

  “Very nice.”

  He leaned in close for a look. But since I wasn’t wearing earrings I couldn’t imagine what he hoped to see. Then he stumbled, as if the ship had rocked. There’d been increasing movement interspersed with spells of calm. That had been a calm stretch.

  He pretended to try to right himself by grabbing for me. Specifically, grabbing for the girls.

  I’d been a public figure for a decade and a half. There’s a certain segment of the population who takes that literally, treating my figure as if it were public property.

  As I dodged out of his path, someone came in from my left, interposing itself between us.

  “Sir. How dare you,” scolded Petronella, more decisive than I’d ever heard her. “Shame on you.”

  She grasped my elbow and, before the elderly man or I could react, she marched me out of grabbin
g distance.

  I released my elbow, but continued beside her.

  “I appreciate your motives, Petronella, though you do know I can take care of myself, don’t you?”

  “If you could, you’d be in your cabin, resting. You look tired.” Petronella could sting after all. Maybe not a wasp, but edging toward a sweat bee.

  “I don’t feel tired.”

  “You look exhausted.” Ouch. She’d amped it up to honey bee. “You’ll rest in your cabin and I’ll stay there to be sure no one disturbs you.”

  “I can’t rest with anyone else there. That’s why I have to have my own cabin,” I ad-libbed.

  “Oh.” The newly decisive Petronella deflated. “Well, I’m taking you to your cabin.” She rallied to add, “And unplugging your phone.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  My poor lonely balcony had company for a while that afternoon, thanks to Petronella.

  True to her word, she unplugged the cabin phone, which had not rung once during this cruise that I was aware of. I pledged to rest and she finally left, saying she was going to her cabin, but she would be on guard that no one bothered me.

  I could have resisted.

  I could have slipped out as soon as she left me.

  Truth be told, I felt the need of quiet to sort through what I knew, and what I didn’t.

  With a cruise liner pad of paper and pen I sat at the small balcony table, making notes. The ocean hadn’t calmed and the clouds remained. But no rain fell and my cabin was high enough to miss any spray. The sea air and sounds of the ocean clapping against the ship proved as restorative as a nap.

  My cell phone chimed with an arriving text.

  Aunt Kit.

  Her voice sounded in my head as I read it:

  What are you being told, by whom, and why?

  Odette flashed into my mind. A lot of my background information came from her, especially about the Marry-Go-Rounders. That was the whom and what. Why remained.

  It didn’t occur to me until now, with you asking these questions.

  Was that true? Or had Odette led me to the brink of those questions? Had she molded my thinking about the Marry-Go-Rounders? To believe she was so open and honest about what had happened and how she felt about it that I couldn’t possibly suspect her.