Mystral Murder (Julie O'Hara Mystery Series)

by Hanson, Lee

“Come here,” he said, leading her to the couch. “I want to show you something that will make you feel better.” He flicked on the TV to the ship’s station. While soft background music played, a map of the Caribbean area showed the Mystral’s progress toward Florida. “Look, babe, no islands in our path or anywhere near us.”

  Julie did feel better watching the ship’s steady progress.

  “You want a coke?” Joe had gone over to the bar to get himself one.

  “Sure, thanks.”

  “They cancelled the Captain’s Table dinner because of the weather. Did you hear the announcement?” Joe asked. “I’m sure Captain Collier needs to stay on the bridge.”

  “I didn’t, but I’m not surprised. How’d you make out at the AA meeting?”

  “I got lucky.” He handed her a coke and pulled up a chair. “I met a marine mechanic. A guy named Al, who works in the Engine Room. You were right about the ‘other world’ below decks. It’s kind of like a caste system, but skilled workers like him have a pretty good deal. They can go ashore and enjoy the ports, but onboard they can’t fraternize with the passengers like the officers can. Al took a real risk, spending time with me. I got the impression that HCL is quick to fire people who step out of line.”

  “Did he say anything about Adrienne? Did anyone see anything?”

  “Yes and no. You were right about the gossip, too. According to Al, nobody thinks she jumped or fell, Merlin, and for a very obvious reason.” He shook his head. “If I was conducting an investigation under normal circumstances, I would have gone up there to Deck 12. I can’t believe I didn’t do that! If I did, I would have seen it right away. You probably didn’t see it when you were up there because it was nighttime.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, leaning forward.

  “The railing along the jogging track on the Sport Deck is made of clear, tempered glass panels with a single rail across the top. They’re designed as windbreakers. It’s way too windy on top for regular open railings, it wouldn’t be safe. The railing up there is just like our balcony railing, only it goes all around.”

  “So what? I don’t get it.”

  “Merlin, I’m six-four and our balcony railing is higher than my waist. Adrienne was short; it would have been up to her shoulders, at least her upper chest. You’re tall, but you’d have to climb on a chair and hang on to the divider panels on the side to get over our balcony railing.”

  Julie pictured the jogging trail and the railing as it looked in the morning.

  “You’re right!” she said, leaning back. “There’re no chairs and nothing to hang on to up there! And she was intoxicated!”

  “Exactly. It sure sounds to me like someone helped her.”

  “Oh, Joe. They must know Adrienne Paradis was probably murdered. How can Captain Collier let it go like that?”

  They were startled by the weird buzzing of the ship’s phone. Julie grabbed it:

  “Hi, Val… Not ‘til tomorrow?…Oh, of course, sure…I understand. Okay. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you and Paul are doing. See you tomorrow, thanks…Tonight? Yes, I think so… Oh, no, we won’t; don’t worry…bye.”

  She turned back to Joe. “That was Val Gilman. They can’t meet us until tomorrow afternoon. They’re coming here at four. She said she’s extra busy because of the weather, plus her husband is closing the Top Hat tonight and opening the Odyssey tomorrow. She said Paul will be done for the day by four and she has two hours free then.

  “Tonight’s the last formal night, Joe. Val asked if we were going to the Captain’s cocktail party or the Top Hat. I told her I thought we probably would. She asked us not to make any contact if we saw them; she said they can’t afford to be seen talking to us.”

  “Incredible,” he said, standing and shaking his head. “The intrigue on this ship…”

  He went and opened the closet door. “We’re going formal, then?”

  Julie paused, thinking about the temptation that would surround Joe wherever they went. “Listen. Going out is up to you, honey. We can order in, just stay here and fool around. You’re more important to me than this case, Joe.”

  He went to the couch and sat next to her, taking her hands in his.

  “Babe, I know you mean well, but I can’t hide from alcohol. Other people drink. Other people will be drinking in Orlando, too. For guys like Al and me, it’s one day at a time, wherever we are. And for this one day, I’m not going to drink. So, let’s dress up and go mingle with the suspects…and then we’ll come back and fool around.”

  Julie smiled and began to unbutton her blouse.

  “I have to wait ‘til then?”

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 32

  It was seven-fifteen by the time they arrived at the Windward lounge, Joe in his white dinner jacket and Julie in a champagne chiffon dress. Val Gilman was standing at the door, welcoming people. Julie and Joe merely smiled, said “Good evening,” and moved on by.

  Once again, the chairs and loveseats were taken by folks quietly enjoying the classical music produced by a string trio, while everyone else mingled on the dance floor. Smiling waiters in black pants, white shirts and black bowties passed through the elegantly dressed crowd, their trays laden with cocktails.

  As they made their way through to an open spot on the dance floor, Julie scanned the room looking for anyone they knew. Dale Simpson was nowhere to be seen, but Michelle Sinclair was there, along with Bob Sanchez, the Hotel Manager, and another officer. They were a striking group in their sharp white uniforms, standing in front of a wall-sized photo of the majestic Mystral. The officers took turns posing with individual passengers who literally put their best foot forward on the photographer’s command. At the moment, Lottie Pelletier was having her picture taken with Dr. Sinclair. She was easy to recognize, wearing the same tuxedo-jacketed black dress. Julie’s attention turned back to the three officers.

  “Stand-ins for the Boss,” she said.

  “Yeah, we won’t see him tonight.”

  She turned and saw the Byrnes coming into the lounge. She nudged Joe. “There’s Cathy and Gill.” Gill looked handsome in his formal attire, but Cathy was a red-carpet sensation. She wore an iridescent blue-green gown, strapless, slim and flared at the bottom. Julie caught their attention and waved. Gill returned the wave and they threaded their way through the crowd.

  “Joe! Glad to see you,” Gill said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Hi, Merlin. You look lovely tonight.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Julie said. She smiled at Cathy. “And you look like a beautiful mermaid. What a perfect dress for a cruise.”

  Cathy beamed. “Thank you. I thought so, too. I was at Neiman Marcus and I couldn’t resist it.”

  A waiter came by and they all ordered drinks, Joe opting for tonic water and lime. As they stood chatting, Julie picked up a change in the dynamic between Cathy and Gill.

  Cathy was more secure. No mystery there, Julie thought, suspecting that Cathy had known about Gill’s involvement with Adrienne, which was no longer a source of stress. Gill’s body language, however, was puzzling.

  He stood there with his arm around Cathy’s waist. Julie remembered that yesterday they had walked part of the way from the pool to the Horizons buffet in the same awkward manner. She recognized it as a deliberate affectation on Gill’s part because she knew that the side-by-side embrace was uncommon for anybody but younger, single lovers. Cathy, who was smiling and subtly rubbing against him, clearly didn’t mind being newly joined-at-the-hip.

  What’s up with that, Gill? Are you trying to impress people with your togetherness?

  “How’s Dale doing?” Joe asked.

  Before Gill could answer, Cathy blurted, “He’s drunk. We just saw him at Barrister’s Pub. I don’t particularly want to be around him, anyway. Who knows what the real story is with him? They weren’t getting along, you know.”

  Cathy’s chin was thrust slightly forward and her eye contact with Joe had increased, her pupils dilated. H
er defensive tone had all the congruent trimmings.

  She accused Adrienne of being drunk. Now she’s accusing Dale. Why do I think this smacks of misdirection?

  Whatever was going on with Cathy and Gill, Julie was glad they weren’t dining together. Joe had managed to reserve a table for two in the Main Dining Room, thanks to a cancellation. As far as Julie was concerned, the less time she spent with the Byrnes, the better; she had every intention of putting them out of her mind, at least for dinner.

  Yet, the question nagged.

  Why was Cathy defensive?

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 33

  On the other side of the room, Michelle Sinclair looked over at Julie O’Hara and Joe Garrett and thought, why can’t you just leave this alone? Why do you need to ruin my life?

  Andrew had ordered Clyde Williams to stand down on the investigation into Adrienne Paradis’ disappearance, and Williams had reluctantly complied. But Andrew had no way to control Julie O’Hara and Joe Garrett…and Security ultimately answered to HCL.

  Michelle had done an internet search and learned that the pair had been instrumental in solving what had become known as the “swan boat” murder in Orlando, Florida. They had continued their tenacious investigation long after the police had pronounced the woman’s death a suicide.

  It was a disquieting thought. Why have I drawn her scrutiny?

  Michelle had caught Julie O’Hara analyzing her the night of the Captain’s Table dinner. Not once, but twice. The first time, it was so intensely uncomfortable that Michelle had felt as if she and Andrew were naked; she had instinctively moved her chair a bit further from him. O’Hara had seen through their public charade, of that she had no doubt.

  But it was the second time that was more disturbing. Adrienne Paradis, her nemesis, had used her dinner invitation to stand up and make a sales pitch. It was galling, an insult to Andrew. I couldn’t help what I was feeling, she thought. I looked across the table and O’Hara was staring at me again.

  Michelle determined not to give Julie O’Hara any more ammunition. Apparently the fierce nature of her passion for Andrew was written on her face.

  How ironic, she thought.

  ***

  Cecile Sinclair had relentlessly taught Michelle as a child to suppress her feelings. If she was heard laughing, Cecile would appear out of nowhere, larger than life and scowling. “What are you doing? What are you getting into?”

  Michelle would drop the toy, or whatever had delighted her, and cower in fear.

  Anger replaced fear when Michelle turned fifteen, when she learned that the woman she had only known as “Cecile” was, in fact, her aunt. She would never forget that confrontation. “Why didn’t you tell me, Aunt Cecile?” she’d demanded.

  In answer, she got a back-handed blow across her face that knocked her down.

  “Don’t ever speak to me again in that tone of voice, you ingrate! And don’t call me ‘Aunt’! We are not blood relatives. My husband was related to you, not me. I am fulfilling my duty to raise you. You will be a doctor like he was…or you can get out right now!”

  Years of cowering had quickly snapped Michelle back in line.

  She repressed all emotion for the next three years, psychologically protecting herself until she could leave for college. After that, they never saw each other again. Cecile never came to a graduation, even when Michelle completed medical school. Support checks and all contact simply ceased.

  Michelle had been working as a doctor on the Greek island of Rhodes for two years when she heard that Cecile Sinclair had died. By then, Michelle couldn’t risk going back to the United States. Not that it mattered…

  They weren’t “blood relatives”.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 34

  Their table-for-two was against a low railing on the first balcony in the Main Dining Room. They were still one floor below the massive crystal chandelier which hung in the open center of the opulent dining room, but now they were looking down on the Captain’s Table beneath it.

  “I don’t recognize anyone down there with the officers,” Joe said, as he cut a thin slice of filet mignon.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re folks celebrating birthdays and anniversaries like Alice and Phil Kent. They’d have to do something with that big table; that would make the most sense.”

  “This steak is great,” Joe said, closing his eyes and savoring a bite. “How could you order plain old chicken?”

  “This is not ‘plain old chicken’; it’s ‘Soufflé Stuffed Caribbean Lime Chicken’.”

  “Looks like plain old chicken to me.”

  Julie, sorry that she’d ordered the disappointing chicken, cut a piece to spite him and smiled. She followed the bland bite with a sip of chardonnay, her eyes drifting around the huge dining room until they stopped at a small rail-side table on the opposite balcony. Lottie Pelletier was dining there, alone.

  “I wonder if Lottie’s a widow,” Julie said.

  “Who?”

  “Lottie Pelletier. I was just wondering if she’s a widow. She’s the woman sitting alone across from us, on the other balcony.”

  “Do I know her?” Joe asked.

  “I don’t think you do. I met her in the Windward Lounge shortly before the Captain’s Table dinner. You were in the Casino. I’ve seen her a couple times, but always alone.”

  “She’s a nice looking woman. You’d think she’d want to sit at a group table.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Everybody’s paired off on this ship, all couples. That would make me uncomfortable. The only difference is that I’d be reading a book. Frankly, there are a lot of times I prefer a book to company.”

  “Thanks a lot…”

  Julie laughed. “Oh, c’mon, Joe, you know I don’t mean you.” She reached for his hand across the table and gave it a squeeze. “So, tell me, what did you think of Cathy’s remark about Dale being drunk?”

  “I don’t know. It was weird. Definitely ‘holier-than-thou’.”

  “I thought so, too. And the way Gill kept his arm wrapped around her, I’d say they’ve had a heart-to-heart since Adrienne went missing. They were closing ranks.”

  “Yeah, now that you mention it, it did look like that.”

  As they finished their meal, Julie reassessed Gill and Cathy.

  Clearly, it was beneficial for Gill to keep his affair with Adrienne quiet, especially if he’d killed her; that might explain his sudden display of marital togetherness. But there was something about the way he was looking at Cathy…what was it? There was a moment of unexpected softness. When was that? Julie closed her eyes and recreated the scene…

  He leaned over and touched her head with his…just for a moment.

  It was spontaneous, a very personal contact…a loving contact.

  “Oh, crap,” she said, pushing her dish away.

  “What? What’s the matter? Something wrong with the chicken?”

  “No, no, the food’s fine,” Julie said. “Joe, what if it was Cathy who pushed Adrienne over? What if it wasn’t Gill, but Cathy? I’m sure she knew about their affair. When he left their suite that night to ‘go for a walk’, what if she suspected that he was going to meet Adrienne? She was terribly insecure, Joe. What if she went back to the Top Hat club? Oh, God, I hope that’s not what happened.”

  Their waiter suddenly appeared in response to Julie having pushed her plate aside. He picked it up. “Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m finished, thank you.”

  “Can I bring you some coffee or dessert? Some Black Forest Cake or Cherries Jubilee, perhaps?”

  They both declined dessert and ordered coffee. When the waiter left with their plates, Joe leaned across the table. “So you think Gill’s protecting Cathy?”

  “I think it’s possible. Suppose he loves her. He might feel he had a hand in it, that he drove her to it. Maybe that’s what all this togetherness is about.”

  “I don’t know, Merlin; I’m getting a headache fr
om this,” he said, literally squeezing his forehead. “We only have one more day on this cruise, and I’m willing to spend it trying to figure out what happened to Adrienne Paradis. I think there’s no question that someone pushed her over the side. But, I’m going to say it again: There’s no way to prove it. So, can we please forget about this, just for tonight? Let’s go to the Top Hat, listen to some music and dance a little, okay?”

  Julie reached across the table and took his hand again.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. Music and dancing it is.”

  “And fooling around.”

  “Especially fooling around.”

  ***

  It was Latin Night in the Top Hat club and the beat was infectious. Although the dance floor was crowded, there were a few Salsa and Samba pros who really knew their stuff. Intimidated, Julie and Joe sat and watched for a while, admiring their amazing hip action and fluid moves.

  “C’mon,” Joe said, holding out his hand. “We can do this!”

  We can? Julie thought, following him onto the dance floor.

  As it turned out, they could. It might have been a sexed-up Cha Cha with improvisations, but they moved their lower bodies in sync, and didn’t sit until they were breathless.

  They were resting on a loveseat downing a couple of cokes when Julie spotted Paul. He was working at the far end of the bar near a double glass door to the deck, which, in better weather, would have been open to outside tables. She nudged Joe. “That’s Paul Gilman working the service bar, Joe. He’s the tall one. The other guy was working here the night of the Captain’s dinner. Do you remember him?”

  “No, but he must be Gabe, the guy who said Adrienne and I were ‘talking ragtime’. What an astute observation, huh?”

  “Don’t be sensitive, Joe. It was an important bit about Adrienne.”

  “Yeah, I guess it was.” He set his glass on the small table in front of them and stood up. “I’m ready to call it a night, babe, how about you?”

  “I’m ready; let’s go.”

  They walked out of the club and were waiting for the elevator. Joe went over to the outside door just beyond the stairs and pulled it open a little, to get a feel for the weather. The wind was howling and it was raining hard; he shut the door quickly. “Can’t go that way!”