by Ava Dunne
I turned and bumped into someone entering with bulging bags of laundry. “Oof! Sorry!”
“No, my fault, I couldn’t see where I was going,” said Sebastian. “Merhati, can you fit me in this evening?”
“Thirty-five dolla.”
“Thirty-five?” Sebastian teased. “Last week, it was eighteen.”
“Last week, you brought me chocolate from port.” Merhati’s eyes gleamed with laughter.
“Thirty-five it is, and I’ll buy you something special in Nassau,” Sebastian promised.
“Then, maybe next time, only ten dolla.” Merhati grinned.
I left them to it, and headed back to the stairs that led from Zero Deck up through the decks and back to the studios. I thought I’d walked a lot living in New York City, but one day on the ship was equivalent to about a week in the concrete canyons.
The corridor smelled bad, like open garbage. The cleaners didn’t wash the crew halls multiple times a day like they did those on the passenger side of the ship. The garbage room was on this level, but it smelled fine when I came through a few minutes ago. Maybe someone dropped their dinner and hadn’t yet had a chance to clean it up? Or left it for someone else to clean up?
My foot hit something soft and unyielding at the bottom of the stairs. I couldn’t see what it was, and couldn’t see how to get around it. I turned, glancing at the obstacle, in hopes of moving it with my foot.
It was Geri, lying at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes open, her head at an unnatural angle.
I stared at her in shock. For a split second, I wondered if I was hallucinating. Why would Geri be down here? I remembered that tricky step. Had she tripped? Why didn’t she call for help? Part of me knew, even in that first moment, the answer, but I didn’t want to believe it.
I dropped the blankets and fell to my knees. “Geri? Geri!” I felt for a pulse, although I knew there wasn’t one. She was just starting to cool, an odd, clammy sensation after life, but not the full dead cold yet.
I screamed.
CHAPTER THREE
SEBASTIAN WAS THE FIRST TO reach me. “She’s dead.” I blubbered, shaking. “She wasn’t here when I came down the stairs a few minutes ago, but now she’s dead.”
How could Geri be dead? This couldn’t be real. I’d wake up, and I’d be in my bunk. This was some weird projection dream because I didn’t like the way she’d yelled at me earlier. I’d wake up and she’d. . .find some other reason to yell at me. And I’d be glad. I’d welcome it if only it didn’t mean she was lying there on the floor. Dead.
Sebastian pulled me away from the body—Geri’s body—and grabbed the radio from his belt. As people who’d heard the scream emerged into the corridor, Sebastian ordered, “Stay back! Don’t touch anything! There’s been an accident!”
Why didn’t anyone fix those stairs? Wasn’t OSHA supposed to deal with these things? Didn’t the insurance company demand fixes?
Someone else screamed, and a couple of people started to cry. Sebastian looked up the stairs and demanded, “Stay up there! Don’t come down the stairs! Don’t let anyone else past, either.”
Still holding my arm, he clicked on his radio with his free hand and murmured into it. I heard “accident”, “Geri Smith”, “Amy”, “Captain”, and “security.” My head swam, and my stomach roiled. I turned my head to look at Geri again, but Sebastian, still on his radio, understood my movement and blocked my view with his body.
That was a good idea. If I had to look again, I’d probably lose whatever was in my stomach. Geri’s eyes, those open, lifeless eyes, would haunt my dreams, maybe forever.
More people showed up, everyone talking at once, in every language. Too many people! Sebastian kept his hold on my arm, and I realized that I had both hands on his, clinging to him like a lifeline. I heard the clipped British tone that I knew belonged to Amy Russell, the cruise director. I smelled a whiff of rosemary, and the moment of comfort the scent always afforded me, and then it was all chaos.
“Come on, Sophie,” said Sebastian.
“Where?”
“We’re going somewhere to talk.” He started moving me down the corridor, away from Geri’s body.
“I don’t know if I can. I think I lost all my words.”
“We’ll find them again. Can you walk? You need to stay with me, Sophie. You’re not going to faint, are you?”
“I don’t think so. I thought I would throw up for a minute, but I’m over it. Good thing I don’t get seasick, isn’t it? That’s what I was afraid of, in this job. That I’d find out I got seasick.” I couldn’t stop talking nonsense.
“It’s a very good thing.” Sebastian maneuvered me against a wall. I heard a clanging noise, and then we moved.
I frowned. “We’re not supposed to use the elevators. They’re for guests. We’ll get in trouble. I’m in enough trouble, especially with Geri. Geri!” I started to sob.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, everything’s going to be okay.” Sebastian put his arms around me and let me cry.
By the time we hit whatever level was intended, I’d taken enough deep breaths to stop the crying. They weren’t quite yoga breaths, and I sure as heck wasn’t centered, but at least I wasn’t weeping all over Sebastian’s chest. I was embarrassed, but also grateful that he didn’t just prop me up against a wall and leave me. He walked me down a carpeted hallway and into a room with windows.
Sebastian sat me down on a squishy settee covered in red velvet, and perched beside me. “Can you get her some water?” He asked someone. “Good, Chief Bakshi, you’re here.”
I looked up. We’d been joined by a graceful Indian man, his uniform and epaulettes impeccable. I remembered, from the employee packet, he was Dhruv Bakshi, the ship’s Chief Security Officer.
“Of course.” I heard Amy’s polished British accent, and then she came into view, handing me a glass of cold water. “Sophie? Can you tell me what happened? Did you have an argument, you and Geri? Is that how she fell down the stairs?”
“What argument?” I asked, dazed. “I haven’t seen Geri since before the lifeboat drill. She wasn’t there when I brought the yoga blankets down, but when I tried to go up the stairs, there she was.”
“Amy, you’re not helping,” said Chief Bakshi. He had a calm, soothing voice. A voice I could trust.
“It’s perfectly understandable,” said Amy. “Geri was an argumentative person. You argued, she fell—”
“That’s enough,” said a commanding voice from the doorway. We all stared as an exceptionally good-looking dark-haired man, with a pronounced five o’clock shadow, limped into the room, aided by a cane. This was the guy who fascinated Roz. Too bad I wasn’t in any condition to find anything out. “Don’t muddy the waters by putting words in her mouth or trying to change her memories.”
“I’m just trying—” Amy protested.
“It’s not your job to try to get any information from her, it’s mine,” the man said. He finished crossing the room to stand in front of me and asked, “Do you know who I am?”
“You’re the cute one everyone keeps asking me about, but I don’t know your name.” I blushed, realizing that filtering some of that would have been a better choice.
“My name is Duncan Cooke,” he said. “Detective Duncan Cooke, NYPD. Homicide.”
“Why are you on the ship?”
He laughed, and its warmth made me relax a bit. “Even detectives get a vacation, every now and again. And, as you might have noticed,” he indicated the cane, “I’ve got some rehab to complete before I’m ready to go back on the job. Now that you know my story, I need to ask you a few questions. Are you up for it?”
I nodded, although part of me wanted to scream, No, no no! “I think so.”
“If you’d excuse us,” Detective Cooke said to Amy and Sebastian.
“I think I need to stay and represent—” Amy began.
“Get out,” Detective Cooke said in a flat, hard voice.
She got out.
Sebastian fol
ded his arms over his chest. “I think I should stay.”
“I’m not going to harass your girlfriend, Mister Anger.”
“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s my colleague. Detective Cooke.”
I was out of it, but the undercurrent in those words managed to penetrate my shocked haze, and I wondered what the heck was going on between the two of them.
“Are you going to hunt down a lawyer on board? Out of a thousand passengers, I’m sure at least one’s a lawyer.”
“Guests,” Sebastian corrected, as all staff did on reflex.
“Aren’t you one with the lingo?” Cooke taunted.
“Sophie’s had a shock. I doubt she’s used to stumbling—literally—across dead bodies.” He frowned down at me. “Are you?”
I shook my head. “I’ve only seen dead people at wakes. In their caskets, not walking around. And that one homeless guy who committed suicide by jumping in front of the N train one morning.”
“See? She’s in shock,” said Sebastian.
“I’m not going to eat her, I’m not going to hurt her, I’m not going to frame her,” Detective Cooke sounded weary. “Why don’t you wait outside? I’ll need to talk to you as soon as I’ve talked to her. You were the second person on the scene, weren’t you?”
Sebastian nodded. “I heard her scream and ran out of the laundry. I saw her on her knees next to the body.”
Yeah, that would help prove my innocence. Not.
“Wait outside. Please. I’ll talk to you in a few minutes.”
“Sophie?” Sebastian looked at me.
“I’ll be okay.” My voice croaked and my throat was raw.
Sebastian looked like he wanted to argue, but he left the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.
“I’m staying,” said Chief Bakshi.
“It’s your ship, your jurisdiction,” Detective Cooke agreed. “But how much experience do you have in unexplained deaths?”
Bakshi flashed a smile. “Diamond Line, especially the Charisma, has an excellent safety record. We deal with drunks, arguments, alcohol poisoning, the occasional fisticuffs, jealousies. Death, not so much, except for an occasional retiree who has a heart attack or stroke. Ms. Smith was a young, healthy woman. I would welcome your help. Provided you don’t keep information from me.”
“As long as you do the same, even if it puts the ship in a bad light.”
“I am more interested in justice than covering up for Cosimo Allegheny. Even though I owe him a great deal.”
I felt Detective Cooke’s hesitation, but he said, “Then we have an agreement.”
Bakshi folded his arms across his impressive chest and leaned against the wall. “I will watch and learn.” I almost detected a note of sarcasm in his tone. “My staff are collecting evidence from the scene. Never fear, they are well trained, with both military and police experience. They will bring it here when they are done, so we can both examine it.”
“Thank you.”
I mentally kicked myself. Geri was dead at the bottom of the stairs, and I sat here, noticing that the detective and the Chief Security Officer were hot. Inappropriate, I named it, and let it go.
I heard Detective Cooke move around, opening and closing cabinets. A moment later, he took the glass of water out of my hand and replaced it with a glass of whisky.
“Oban single malt,” he said. “Nice and smooth. You need something stronger than water.”
I nodded and took a sip. It brought back memories of being out with Jack, going to dark New York City bars to try single malt whisky. Laughing and making plans…"I’m sorry?” I realized that Detective Cooke was talking to me. I looked at him. I could see why Roz thought he was so gorgeous, especially with those dark blue eyes. They’d look good together. He couldn’t be a real cop. He could play one on TV, though. But he was a real cop, and he’d find out what happened, he’d believe me, because that’s the way it was supposed to work. I remembered being five or six, my parents teaching me that the policeman was my friend. I needed him to be my friend right now. I’d tell him the truth, and he’d fix things.
But he couldn’t fix Geri. She was beyond help. I had to take another deep breath, or I would cry again. Or throw up. “Do you even have jurisdiction out here?” I blurted. “Sorry. I seem to have lost my ability to think before I speak.” I put the glass down. Drinking wouldn’t help. Nor would blurting out that I thought he and Roz should get together because they were both pretty.
He laughed and sat on the ottoman opposite me, leaning his cane against the desk. “That’s okay. The FBI will meet us when we hit port in Nassau. They handle jurisdiction in international waters.” Chief Bakshi made a noise of dissatisfaction, but didn’t comment. “Until we hook up with them, I’m just about the most qualified person on this ship to handle the investigation.” He glanced at Chief Bakshi. “No offense.”
“None taken. For the moment.”
The “just about” didn’t escape me, but I decided not to pursue it. “What do you need from me? The whole day feels like bits and pieces. I don’t know how coherent I am.”
“I’ll ask questions. You answer them to the best of your ability,” said Detective Cooke. “If you remember something about Geri or about today that I haven’t asked, tell me that, too. One never knows what small piece of information winds up unlocking something big. Maybe she took a bad step. Those are rickety stairs. Maybe something else happened. But until we know, we have to treat it as suspicious.”
“Okay. Where do I start? The day? The cruise? When I found her?” I looked from Cooke to Bakshi.
“Let’s start with finding her and work our way back.” Cooke spoke, but Bakshi gave me a nod of encouragement.
Detective Cooke understood I needed a specific focus, and for that, I was grateful. “After the 6:30 class, I cleaned the mats, bundled up the yoga blankets that needed to be washed, and brought them down here to pick up the ones I’d brought down after the 3:30 class. I paid Merhati for the batch I just dropped off. The clean ones were already folded, as nicely as they teach us at Kripalu. That’s a yoga institute in Western Massachusetts, oh, sorry, you don’t need to know that, it’s not relevant.” I took a deep breath.
“It’s okay. There’s no rush.”
“I picked up the stack of folded blankets. I couldn’t see over them, and ran into Sebastian—literally—as I left the laundry, and he was coming in. He started joking with Merhati—she runs the laundry.”
“Do you know where he came from? Sebastian?”
“No. I was only a step or so past the doorway and I couldn’t see. I wanted to get the clean blankets back up to the studio. I hadn’t seen Geri since much earlier in the day, and I wanted to know if she was still angry with me. I walked back to the stairs. The guests can use elevators, and they have the carpeted stairs, but back here they have the metal, shaky, scary ones. Roz told me that on most cruise ships, the crew stairs aren’t even really stairs, they’re just ladders…you don’t need to know that, either, do you?”
“It might be helpful.”
I took a deep breath and let it out. “You’re just being kind, but I appreciate it. Anyway, like I said, I couldn’t see. I thought the hallway smelled strange, like spoiled food. Garbage is stored on Zero Deck, but it didn’t smell bad a few minutes earlier. My foot hit something soft and heavy. I didn’t know what it was. I was lazy, and turned, so I could see. I figured somebody dropped something, and maybe I could move it with my foot, so I wouldn’t have to put down the blankets. Oh, my god! I kicked her and she was dead!” The tears started again.
Detective Cooke didn’t say anything. He moved next to me on the settee, and placed a hand on my back. I regained control after a few dozen sobs, and accepted the glass of whisky he put back in my hand.
“Sorry.” I took another gulp.
“Unexpected death is never easy,” Bakshi offered. The sympathetic look in his dark eyes helped.
“Don’t be sorry, and don’t blame yourself for something you
didn’t know. Okay?” He looked at me. His eyes were a stunning shade of blue. His hair was almost as dark as Harmonia’s, but I bet his color was natural.
“I’ll try.” I took another deep breath. “I looked down and saw Geri lying there. Her eyes were—open, just staring, like she couldn’t believe she was on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. Her neck was at a strange angle. We study alignment during yoga teacher training—never mind, there I go again.” Deep breath. “I dropped the blankets. I figured she was dead, but just in case, I felt for a pulse. There wasn’t any, and her skin felt so strange, so awful…” Detective Cooke’s hand on my back kept me from losing it again. I took another deep breath, another sip of whisky. “I screamed. I couldn’t help it. Sebastian came running from the laundry room. I was on my knees beside Geri—I can’t imagine what Sebastian thought—screaming. Sebastian grabbed me, and then everything gets fuzzy. I can remember bits and pieces, but it’s like it was all in a fog.”
“You went into shock,” said Detective Cooke. “I’m not surprised. Do you usually teach the 6:30 class?”
“No.” I shook my head. “But Geri didn’t show up, so I thought I’d better. She didn’t show up for the 3:30, either.”
“Was that unusual?”
“Since I’ve known her? Yes. She liked to be in control.”
I heard a sound that might have been a laugh from Bakshi. I glanced in his direction. His expression was neutral, although there was a twinkle in his eye. Yeah, he understood.
“How long have you worked together?”
“How long have we been at sea? Two days? We’re on our third day, right? I’m supposed to be trailing her during this trip.”
“When did you see her last?”
“After the 11 o’clock class ended, this morning. They run an hour and fifteen minutes, so it ended at 12:15. I was cleaning yoga mats, and Geri and Hans were having. . .a discussion.”