Cruise Chaos

by A. R. Winters

  Oliver McGinty was already there, and he was standing behind a table which I had not noticed earlier. The reason I hadn’t noticed it earlier was because it hadn’t been there earlier. It was one of the plastic tables with folding legs that we use all over the ship for temporary events.

  “Good evening, Mr. McGinty. What’ve you got there?” I asked, nodding my head toward the table as I approached.

  “Books,” he said, pointing down with his index finger. The tabletop was indeed covered with books. Next to the table was another one, which was currently still bare.

  “Right…” I said, hoping to lead him on.

  “They’re for sale. They said I could do it. They said I could set up a table to sell my books. It’s already arranged, so don’t say I can’t.”

  Geez, calm down. I didn’t say anything!

  “I see. If you’ve been told it’s fine, I’m sure it is. And the other table?”

  “That’s where Edward Dane is going to sell his books. We’re both at it! You can’t stop both of us, right?”

  “I wasn’t planning on stopping either of you. I’m sure the other passengers will appreciate the opportunity to browse through some of the books from your shop, or from Edward Dane.”

  “Good. Would you like to buy any?”

  I glanced over the table. There were dozens of books, but they weren’t really my style. They were the serious, gory mysteries, which were a bit too much like the real world for my tastes. Give me magic witches and cupcake bakeries any of the day of the week.

  “Perhaps later. I’ve got to make sure this all goes smoothly. No sign of the cocktails?”

  Before he could answer, I heard rattling, and I turned to the door to see where it was coming from. Four sombrero-wearing waiters, with four noisy, rattling trolleys in front of each of them, proceeded to enter one after the other. Two of the trolleys were dedicated to drinks, and two to food.

  “There they are,” said Oliver, pointing his finger at the troupe as they entered.

  “So they are,” I said, restating the glaringly obvious.

  Among all the pressing concerns I had, the most urgent was to inspect and check the food. At least, my stomach thought so anyway. The waiters set themselves up in two corner stations, each one with a cart of drinks and a cart of food.

  “Hi there,” I said, sidling up to a young blond-haired waiter standing behind a trolley full of tacos, burritos, chips, and mini individual pots of salsa and guacamole.

  The waiter tilted his head at me.

  “Que?”

  “Umm, I said hello.”

  “Que?”

  “Hola!” I tried.

  “That’s the spirit!” said the waiter in perfect English and with a white toothy grin. “I was just teasing you. But this is a Mexican themed party, right?”

  I looked around the room which was now fully decorated like an old English country mansion. The whole Mexican vibe didn’t exactly match the decor. But it was what was on the itinerary, and presumably because we were going to cruise along the Mexican coast, the first drinks party had a Mexican theme.

  “I think so. Can I snag some of those?” I said, nodding my chin at the trolley.

  “Sure thing.” He picked up a plate and a pair of tongs. “Tacos?”

  “Please!”

  “A mini-burrito?”

  “Can I have two?”

  He put three onto my plate and gave me a wink.

  “Chips and dips?”

  I pretended to think about it for a second. As if there was a possibility of me saying no. Of course there was no chance of that happening.

  “Go on, then,” I said with fake reluctance.

  “You don’t have to, you know.” His hand hovered over the trolley. He was going to make me say it.

  “I want them! Chips and dips. All of them. Just give me the trolley.”

  The waiter laughed again like he thought I was joking, and then put two little containers of dip and a little bowl of chips onto my plate.

  “Enjoy!”

  I forgot to say thank you because I’d already stuffed a whole taco into my mouth, but I gave him an appreciative nod and a moan that may or may not have successfully communicated my gratitude.

  I returned to the center of the room just in time to see Greg Washington enter. He was still wearing the same lime-green pants as earlier, but had now upgraded his shirt to a black one with lines of silver threaded through it, making him glitter and sparkle when the light caught his shirt as he moved.

  “Did you see the diner?” he asked me. Interestingly enough, that was going to be my exact same question for him.

  Before I could answer, I had to chew rapidly and swallow down the rest of my taco. After a final gulp, I wiped my mouth.

  “No. But did you? Is it okay?”

  “Oh, it’s something. It’s got a real 50s vibe, you know? It’s not very big, but they put four booths in there with those old personal jukeboxes at each table. Never thought I’d see that on this ship.”

  “Yeah? That sounds pretty neat.”

  “Yep. And the posters. I don’t know where they got them. There’s this one of a guy and his best gal in a red Cadillac zooming through Arizona with all these cactuses. It’s real nostalgic stuff.”

  I frowned when he said that. There was something about the poster that sounded strangely familiar to me, as if I’d seen it before, but the details were fuzzy.

  “What about your uniform?”

  Greg looked down as if surprised to find that he wasn’t in fact wearing a cook’s uniform.

  “Oh. Yeah. No problem with that. I even found this big old paper hat in there for me to wear.”

  “Great. But you’re not wearing it…?”

  “Oh, come on, it’s the first night! I want to look good.” Greg ran his hands down his torso and winked. “The mystery doesn’t start until tomorrow, right? So we’re not in character yet, right?”

  I offered a reluctant nod. “Right. But I thought it would be nice to have everyone in character today to welcome the guests.”

  Greg looked at me. “Aren’t you supposed to be some lord’s lady or something?”

  He did have a point. Unfortunately when I was packing for this cruise, I forgot to bring my traveling trunk full of classic gowns, dresses, diamonds, rubies, and tiaras. This was partly because I hadn’t known I’d be directing a murder mystery, but mostly because I didn’t own any of that stuff.

  “Yeah, I need to source a costume for myself before tomorrow.”

  “Maybe I’ve got something that will fit you,” said Greg, stepping back and running his eye over my figure.

  I gulped at that thought. I didn’t want to be borrowing dresses from a flamboyant chef if I could help it. Something else would turn up—I hoped. I’d have to check out the ship’s boutique later.

  While I’d been talking to Greg, a few more early birds had started to arrive. Edward and Harley Dane were there and had parked themselves behind the table next to Oliver McGinty. Harley had brought a wheeled-suitcase with her and was now unpacking the contents of it—all books—and setting them up on the table.

  A tall, broad-shouldered woman in jeans and a red blouse that didn’t quite match entered the room like she owned the place. She stopped about a yard in, and I watched as she carefully scanned the room. On her first inspection, her gaze passed me over, but on her second sweep, she locked on to me. I don’t know whether it was because of my posture, or whether she just had a natural air for detecting who was nominally in charge, but as soon as she had focused on me, she started to make her way over. There was something about her gait that made me think of an army on maneuvers.

  I smiled in anticipation of her arrival, showing her all the warmth that Swan Cruises offers to its valuable guests. I was already working under the assumption that she was one of the participants in the mystery cruise; otherwise, why else would she be here?

  “Hello. Are you in charge?”

  She had stepped uncomfortably close to
me before she spoke, and when she did I had to crane my neck up to meet her gaze, since she was a good head taller than me.

  “Hi, I sure am!” I said with all the charm of a Nebraskan farm girl, shuffling a half-step back as I spoke.

  “My name is Felicity Bull and I am one of the mystery cruise guests.”

  “Adrienne James.” I turned up my smile another notch. There was something slightly hostile about Ms. Bull’s demeanor and tone, and I wanted to charm it away before any damage was inflicted.

  “So. What do we actually do?”

  “There’s going to be a murder, and all of the passengers will work together to solve it. I will be Lady Adrienne of Harkness, and many other characters will take part too.”

  She looked down at me.

  “But surely you know who committed the murder.”

  I shuffled backward. It’s not nice having someone looking down on you from directly in front of you. Unless it’s someone like Hot Stuff—I mean, First Officer Ethan Lee.

  “Well, yes, as the event organizer I know who did it. But for the guests, it’s a mystery to be solved. It’s going to be incredibly fun.”

  I hoped it would be incredibly fun. I’d never been to a murder mystery event myself but had read about them, and I even wrote an article about one during my short-lived career as a journalist.

  “Fun?” The woman pursed her lips and gave a vaguely disapproving hmm. It didn’t sound like she liked fun.

  “And this lasts twenty-four hours a day, does it?”

  “No, it—”

  She shook her head dismissively to halt my explanation.

  “Then what else is there to do?”

  “Goodness. It’s hard to know where to start—”

  “Alphabetical order is fine.”

  That threw me completely for a loop. There were countless activities to do aboard a cruise ship such as ours, but being tasked with naming them in alphabetical order made it suddenly seem hard to remember any of them.

  “You can do... basketball, cooking classes, dancing in the nightclub or in the daytime ballroom dancing classes, swimming, or...” I tried to think. “Wine drinking.”

  “There are formal wine tasting classes available?” Felicity Bull’s interest seemed to have been piqued by that.

  “Umm, no, I just mean you could drink some wine.”

  “Oh, I see. I’m worried I will be bored. Do you think I’ll be bored?”

  “Oh no, not at all. There’s lots more I didn’t tell you about. And tomorrow, we’ll pull into our first stop, and you could do a shore excursion to Cozumel tomorrow morning if you wanted.”

  “Is it safe?” Felicity stepped toward me again as she asked, and I shuffled backward some more.

  “Sure! Well, safer than New Orleans, anyway!” I finished with a little laugh. Felicity did not join in.

  “Tell me about that food,” she said, pointing toward the trolleys and the sombrero-wearing waiters.

  “Oh of course! And I can assure you, it’s all delicious,” I looked down at my plate and was considering showing it to her, but when I realized what a mess I’d made of it all, I lowered the plate instead. It would be off-putting rather than enticing.

  “There are burritos, and tacos, and chips and dip.”

  “Tell me, are the burritos and tacos made with real corn flour? Like in Mexico?”

  “Oh yes, certainly. We have world-class chefs aboard all Swan Cruise Line vessels, and I can assure you everything is as authentic as... as... their sombreros.” I pointed at the blond-haired waiter who’d served me, who tilted his large hat in our direction.

  “That’s terribly disappointing.”

  “It... is?” I furrowed my brow. Had I accidentally said the opposite of what I intended? I didn’t think I had.

  “Yes. I’m allergic to corn and all its byproducts including flour, and food items made from it such as taco shells or tortillas. I assume the corn chips are made of corn too?”

  “I... can check?” I said, flustered now.

  Felicity rolled her eyes at me. “I don’t think we need to bother checking whether the corn chips are made with corn. You know, this is a huge disappointment. I informed the company through my personal travel agent that I had a corn allergy and I was hoping—no, let me correct that—I was expecting to be looked after in that regard.”

  Whenever Felicity spoke to me, she seemed to take a step forward to loom over me, and in response, I took a step or two back.

  What I really needed right then was some assistance. I looked to my left and right and tried to peer behind Felicity.

  My eyes locked onto Greg Washington. Perfect! A chef. He could explain to her about the various food options that would be available to her throughout the cruise.

  "Excuse me, just a moment," I said to Felicity. I looked at Greg and he appeared to see me. I raised my hand and waved at him to attract his attention.

  Greg looked in my direction, took one look at Felicity, and then gave an apologetic shake of his head. I beckoned him over with urgent little come here motions with my hand. He shook his head more emphatically, turned around, and quickly hurried out of the library.

  I glared after him, before turning back to Felicity with a winning smile.

  “I’m so sorry. One of the ship's chefs was here and I wanted to talk to him about corn-free offerings onboard, but he had urgent business to attend to."

  Felicity let out a sigh of weary acceptance, as if it was exactly what she would have expected from me and Swan cruises. It didn't feel good.

  "What I can do is this, though, Felicity. I am in charge of the murder mystery program, and I can assure you corn-free choices will be available at all future events. You have my word."

  Felicity nodded dubiously, as if unsure whether my word was worth trusting when it came to something so important as snacks.

  "Excuse me?" said a now familiar voice.

  I had never been so pleased to be interrupted by someone so annoying. It was Harley Dane and she seemed to have made a friend. While I'd been talking to Felicity, a number of other guests had arrived, and the room was beginning to fill up nicely. I turned back to Felicity.

  "This is Harley Dane, or Mrs. Edward Dane if you prefer."

  "I don’t. Hello, Harley." Felicity peered down at Harley Dane as if inspecting a horse she wasn't sure she wanted to buy.

  "Her husband is the famous novelist," I said, hoping some of Harley's second-hand fame would rub off on me and garner a modicum of respect from Felicity.

  "Yes, I assumed as much. And...?" Felicity peered down at the lady accompanying Harley. She was close to my height, and thus, a good head shorter than Ms. Bull, and she wore a sweet, nervous smile.

  "Hello! I'm Mary Mead. I'm very excited about the murder mystery!"

  "Are you?" asked Felicity with an air of mild surprise.

  "I think we all are," I said pointedly to Felicity.

  "She wants to be a mystery novelist, too," said Harley.

  Mary's cheeks flushed slightly and she looked down at her shoes.

  "Oh, how wonderful!" I exclaimed. Mary’s ambitions made me very happy. She would have the chance to meet Edward Dane and participate in our event, and surely she would come away with great memories. And hopefully leave a great review. "I hope you can learn a lot from this event."

  Mary gave me a grateful smile. She had curly auburn hair that hung around the sides of her face, with a slight blush still on her cheeks. She was wearing a black cardigan over a white blouse, and around her neck there was a large silver pendant necklace, the kind of thing you often saw on the cover of more suspenseful magical mystery books.

  "I'm sure I will! Harley here has even promised to introduce me to her husband, Edward Dane! He might even look at my manuscript. I just finished my first novel a while back.”

  I gave Harley a thankful smile. She may have been cursed with arrogance, but like most people, there were both good and bad sides to her character.

  "My husband the renown
ed novelist is, of course, a very busy man. But he likes to give back too, so I'm sure he'll be able to spare a moment to share some of his lifetime of experience with this newbie." Harley patted Mary on the shoulder like she was a child she was taking under her wing, though they honestly seemed to be about the same age.

  Mary beamed happily.

  "It seems like frivolous work to me," said Felicity with a dismissive shake of her head. "But I suppose everyone needs a trade." She looked down on the three of us with a half-smile. "It's been a pleasure."

  Felicity turned and headed toward the nearest drinks trolley with the kind of determined stride that made me feel sorry for the waiter she was approaching. Hopefully there wasn’t corn in the margaritas, too.

  On her way to the drinks cart, Felicity brushed by a woman in a large floppy sunhat who was heading our way. I stepped back to make room for her in our little group, but as I did so, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  I turned and couldn't help but break into my widest smile of the evening. It was Ethan Lee, the first officer—the guy I'd now been on three semi-successful dates with.

  “Adrienne. Quite the soiree you have here.”

  “Why, thank you,” I said with modest pride. “No disasters yet.”

  “Glad to hear it. Say, do you think you’ll be too busy in your new role to spare an evening for dinner?”

  I looked up at his big brown eyes. They twinkled with interest. I couldn’t keep my own smile down.

  “I’m sure I’ll be able to squeeze you in.”

  “Great. Let me know when’s good for you. I’ll be in touch.”

  He gave me a supportive squeeze on the shoulder and drifted away. When I turned back to the other three ladies, I found them deep in conversation, and so, with a spring in my step I went to find new guests to meet and mingle with.

  Chapter 6

  After a breakfast of rubbery eggs, soft toast, and passable coffee, I told Sam and Cece to get into their costumes. We were all to meet at the cruise director’s office for a quick meeting to make sure everyone knew what they were doing and to solve any last-minute problems or answer any last-minute questions.

  I arrived at the office first, now dressed in a gown which I had managed to purchase in the ship’s boutique. While I tended to avoid spending my paycheck where I worked—it didn’t seem right to give my hard-earned money back to my employers—I made an exception in this case. Besides, I got a twenty-five percent employee discount and I needed—no, deserved—a new dress. Of course it was the only one I was going to be purchasing though, so the customers would just have to put up with me wearing the same dress each day.