by Ava Dunne
“I won’t.”
Roz took a deep breath and entered the CB, with me a step behind. Ewan waved at us. “Found her!” He called out.
“Yes,” I replied. “I did. Thanks.”
Once inside the cabin, Roz sagged onto her bed. While Roz got undressed, I hunted through her tiny bathroom cabinet for hydrogen peroxide and found a washcloth to clean the wound on Roz’s scalp.
“I feel drugged,” Roz complained. “I don’t feel this way from alcohol.”
“Could someone have rufee’d you at Senor Frog’s?” I asked.
“I don’t know who. I was with a friend. Not anyone from the ship.”
“A prank?” I hazarded.
“Anyone who knows me knows I wouldn’t think it was funny.”
“Pepperman? The Purser?”
“Why would Pepperman rufee me?” Roz snorted. “I don’t talk that much, and if he wants to have sex with me, all he has to do is ask.”
That answered that question. I perched on the edge of the bed. “Why is your name on Geri’s blackmail list and then crossed out?”
Roz, holding the washcloth on the back of her neck, jerked her head up and winced. “She had a list, after all. How’d you find it?”
“Doesn’t matter. But I did.”
“Who else is on it?”
“Oh, no, I’m not going down that road. Why were you crossed off?”
“Because the reason she thought she could blackmail me was a non-starter.”
“Did you ever give her money?”
“I threatened to give her a fat lip.” Roz took down the cloth. “First time she approached me, it was about theft. As a teen, I filched a few lipsticks from the five and dime. Old news. She must have run into someone who knew me in the hometown, because I was never prosecuted. Second time, she told me she knew I’d been in a psych ward after a nervous breakdown, before I landed this job. So what? I don’t advertise it, but I’m not ashamed. Third time, I had an affair with someone I shouldn’t have. Geri found out. She threatened to expose us. We both said, go ahead. She had no traction.”
“Is the person still on the ship?”
Roz shook her head. “No. He was First Officer here for a few months, handled most of the navigation. He got the chance to captain a private yacht in the Mediterranean and took it.” Roz shook her head. “Not really sure how Geri found out about it. But by the time she did, Soren already accepted the yacht job. It was a non-issue.” Roz shrugged. “In three days, most rumors around here die anyway, replaced by new ones. Soren and I weren’t supposed to be involved, but, with him leaving, they weren’t gong to fire me to make an example of me.”
“If Soren stayed?”
Roz tightened her lips into a thin line. “We’d have had to deal with Geri.”
…
I woke up early, even with only a couple of hours’ sleep. Angie was asleep in the next bed; I hadn’t heard her enter. I grabbed my clothes, took a quick shower, and changed. I headed up to the crew pool. It was quiet, the sun barely suggesting what was to come. I stood on the deck, noticing a few crew members were asleep in chairs, who never made it back to their rooms last night. I inhaled the scents of salt and water, with always that undercurrent of engine oil. I felt the movement of the ship counterbalancing the movement of the waves. I did a series of sun salutations, feeling the tumult and anxiety start to fade. I gave thanks to the ocean and the start of the day before heading back down the levels to the studio.
Luke, the ex-marine, was in the meditation room when I arrived; I didn’t want to disturb him, so I was careful not to make noise unlocking the studio. The sight of the bright, painted drying racks made me smile. The four racks were now a riot of color and pattern. Not even Jacques could call them ugly.
I set up the space, realizing I’d turned it into a ritual — always moving clockwise, reclaiming the space each time I entered. It felt like mine. It felt right. I wished we didn’t have to have the air conditioning on. The ability to open the windows and let in sea air would be more beneficial and more in keeping with the practice. Running my fingers around the glass edges, I realized that was not an option.
The morning class was lively, with chatter about the day’s excursion to Diamond Island. “The cruise line bought the whole island,” Lydia told us, having read up on it in the Welcome packet provided to guests. “They developed it as a resort. It’s going to be an amazing day. I might even take a snorkeling lesson. Natalie’s parents said snorkeling is a lot of fun.”
“I’m going to take a snorkeling lesson,” Bridey announced, entering. She was in a pale lavender yoga outfit today. “I hope my instructor is gorgeous.” That got a laugh.
“Joshua, how’s your friend doing?” I asked.
Joshua looked pale and tired. “He’ll be okay, I think, but drinking that much was really stupid. At least it wasn’t the groom who got sick.”
The woman obsessed with mat hygiene came in with more news. “There was a huge theft at the Lady & Pirate Resort in Nassau yesterday,” she said. “Over two million dollars’ worth of diamonds stolen! No one hurt, a clean in-and-out of the main hotel safe. It was all over the Internet this morning. Imagine! We might have walked past the thieves as we strolled through the town!”
We must be back in Internet range. Interesting. Although the thought of walking past thieves fresh from a heist was disconcerting to me, not exciting.
I put them through a faster, livelier class than usual. The participants responded. “I love how you change it up every class,” Neil said.
The students cleared out, and I disinfected the mats, hanging them on the drying racks. I was pleased with the result. “Look!” I called out to Jacques, as he scurried by. “No more ugly!”
Jacques snorted. “You do not hail me as though I am a taxi cab!”
“Sorry.”
He glared at the racks. “Tacky and awful. I’m going to report you.”
“That’s your prerogative,” I retorted. “But I like them, and they’re staying unless I’m told otherwise.”
“I’m telling you.”
“You are not my boss.”
“Hans will—”
“Hans will back me.”
Jacques sneered. “Of course he will. Who knows what the two of you are getting up to after hours?” He stepped forward and jabbed a finger into my sternum. “Be very careful, little girl. You may be small and curvy and innocent-looking, but I bet, deep in your heart, you’re a worse snake than Geri.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“You’re making me do too many heart-opening poses,” Kristina complained.
“Yes, I am,” I acknowledged. “It’s a good progression on the week’s work.”
“I feel too vulnerable.”
“You’re in safe space.”
Kristina laughed, short and harsh. “No such thing.” She stepped out of the pose. “I’ve had enough today. Thank you. You can let yourself out.” She turned and walked back into the suite.
I opened my mouth to call out an apology, and then closed it. I wasn’t sorry. Kristina needed the heart-opening poses. I allowed myself a deep sigh, rolling up my mat before rolling up Kristina’s and gathering the props. I stacked Kristina’s things into a neat pile in the living area. There were only a handful of scripts left on the coffee table. Guess they’d been working as they relaxed. There was a beautiful brooch on the table, beside a script whose page was marked with a fountain pen.
I leaned in to look at the brooch. The center stone was a paler blue than turquoise, not quite the color or consistency of aquamarine. It was set in antique silver, and surrounded by small diamonds.
“Larimar,” a deep voice interrupted, and I jumped to see Orrin Flaherty standing in the doorway. “Native to the region. And diamonds, of course.”
“I didn’t mean to snoop,” I said.
“It’s understandable you’re interested,” said Orrin. “I bought it for Kristina when I went on shore yesterday. Larimar is called the ‘Atlantis stone’
and thought to have healing properties.”
“Does Kristina — Ms. Murray — need healing?”
“You’ve been working with her for several days. What do you think?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
That multi-million dollar smile flashed across his face. “No. It’s real.”
“I think she’s sad. I don’t know why, and I think the yoga helps. But she’s sadder than yoga alone can fix.”
“I know,” Orrin sighed. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course.”
“Kristina had a miscarriage a week before we took this trip,” he said. “We managed to keep it out of the press. It shattered her. I hoped the cruise would help get her back on her feet, but. . .” he trailed off and gave a gentle shrug. “It doesn’t help that most of the scripts she’s being sent right now are roles of women losing their children.”
“That’s got to be hard,” I said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Don’t talk to the press.”
“I never do.”
“Just keep working with her. She needs it. You’re kind to her, and you never ask her for anything.”
“I have everything I need,” I said, realizing it was true. “I don’t want anything from her.”
“Which is why you’re one of the best people to have around her,” said Orrin. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” I said goodbye, and left the suite. Again, I missed Fawn and Bianca acutely. This was the type of thing I could confide in them, knowing they’d never leak it to the press. Anyone else on the ship? I wasn’t sure I could trust anyone not to say something to someone. Except, maybe, Sebastian. It occurred to me that this was the kind of information Geri would have cashed in on. I shivered, glad I wasn’t Geri.
“I hear Jacques is giving you a problem.” Hans fell into step beside me.
“He’s giving me grief about the drying racks,” I snapped back into the present moment. “He complained they were ugly, so I painted them, and now he thinks they’re tacky. I think they’re cute.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Hans advised. “He complained to me, and I told him I thought they were fine. He’ll go over my head, but no one in their right mind is going to give you a hard time about drying racks, for God’s sake. Not when there’s a murder investigation going on, and now jewel thefts. You going ashore?”
“In a little bit.”
“Have a great day,” said Hans. “I’ll see you later. Just be back for the evening class.”
“Okay,” I promised.
I decided to detour to find Duncan. I needed to give him Geri’s list, without mentioning I made a copy in my diary. I didn’t want to talk to him, not after our last conversation, but this was business. I could give it to Bakshi. I should give it to Bakshi, or he’d be insulted again. Or, maybe I could give it to the FBI agents? Whomever I gave the list to would ask questions. Questions I didn’t want to answer. At least I could play on Duncan’s guilt about the way he treated me to get out of unpleasant questions.
Unless Duncan didn’t feel guilty.
Duncan wasn’t in class that morning, or I would have oh-so-professionally mentioned it to him. At the time, I was glad not to have to deal with him. I made my way through the eerily vacant decks to Pearl Deck. I knocked on the door of 1285. No answer. I tried the door, but it was locked. Most of the passeng—guests— disembarked as soon as possible for the resort. Wouldn’t the agents find that a perfect time to stay on board and detect?
Maybe I should do the same.
But I wanted the break. I wanted to have some fun, swim in tropical waters, and not think about death and blackmail for a few hours.
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and went to Duncan’s cabin on Topaz Deck. I knocked. No answer. No sound of movement inside. He was probably working on the jewel thefts instead and working his way through the staff — and not just for questioning. Or maybe he found another reason to “question” Veronika. Let him.
Exasperated, I returned to my cabin, and changed into a dark green bikini, covering it with cargo shorts and a darker green tank top. I emptied one of the tote bags from Nassau, cramming its contents into the drawers under my bed, and shoving in a towel, sunscreen, change of clothes, and a book. I considered taking my journal and decided there would be too many people around, especially with Geri’s list copied in it. I clamped the straw hat onto my head, slid on sunglasses, and headed up to the crew dining room to grab breakfast before disembarking. I hid Geri’s list in the zippered pocket of my suitcase and locked it.
Harmonia was in the crew dining room, buttering a bagel, in full regalia — black broomstick skirt, pale blue tank top, flowing scarves with trim that looked like coins sewed on them, and full make-up.
“That’s quite the look,” I remarked.
“Tools of the trade,” Harmonia responded. “Xerses and I are booked on the passenger side of the island today. We have to be available to the guests.” She gestured to Xerses, who stood nearby wearing tight-fitting blank pants, black boots, and a gold-trimmed black toreador jacket without a shirt underneath. He looked sexy and dangerous and fun.
“I was hoping we could hang out on shore,” I sounded more forlorn than I expected.
“Not today, sweetie, sorry,” said Harmonia. She glanced at me. “Something wrong?”
“Just need to talk to someone I can trust.”
“Trust?” Xerses snorted, tossing an arm over Harmonia’s shoulders. “Not a good idea to trust anyone on this ship. Ready, kukla?” He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Time to go make money.” He winked at me, and guided Harmonia away.
“Going ashore?” Roz asked. She was with a group of entertainment staff, all looking like they could bounce into a magazine photo shoot. “Come join us.”
“Sure,” I said. “You feeling better?”
“Perfect.” Roz’s breezy tone didn’t fool me. “You’ll love the island. It has a great set-up. They built a separate-nearly-equal area for crew and staff: separate pool area, restaurant, beaches, everything, so we can let our hair down and not worry about inappropriate behavior in front of paying guests.”
London hooked an arm through mine as we headed for the disembarkation point. “You look positively lost today.”
“I’m not sure what I am anymore,” I laughed.
“You can tell Uncle London anything,” he promised. “It won’t spread like wildfire for at least twenty minutes!”
That made me laugh harder, and my mood lifted.
Diamond Island set up a floating dock far enough into the bay so that its cruise ships could comfortably dock and disembark people onto what looked like a large, driftwood-colored, floating platform. The dock had a small building on it, staffed, and from the far side of the dock, closest to the island, one climbed down a ladder onto a series of small launches that ferried people back and forth to the island. Once on the island dock, golf carts shuttled people either to the passenger side of the resort, or the staff side of the resort.
I followed Roz and London to a launch that already contained Bassio, the Supper Club dancer who assumed I was going to continue the blackmail, and her dance partner beside her. The woman shrank away from me as I stepped into the boat, but the man leaned forward. “I’m Matt,” he said, offering his hand. “This is my dance partner, Wendy.” Now I had a name with the face; a name I remembered from Geri’s list.
“Sophie.” I accepted his hand. “The yoga instructor.”
“I keep thinking I should take a class, but I never get around to it,” said Matt. “Are you going to give any classes just for the staff?”
“It’s on the table,” I replied. “If there’s enough interest, and if I last beyond this week, I might.”
“Why wouldn’t you last beyond the week?” Matt looked puzzled.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I shrugged, wishing Wendy would meet my eyes. “I’m only signed on for this cruise. They might not like me enough to ke
ep me on. Jacques doesn’t like me very much.”
“Jacques only likes handsome Brazilian men, so do not take it personally,” said Bassio.
“I’m surprised they didn’t make you work with the guests today, on the other side of the island.”
“Half of us are working there today,” Bassio said. “Half of us get the day off. We switch next cruise.”
“Is it. . .weird?” I asked. There was no delicate way to question his job.
“Why would it be weird?” Bassio asked. “My job is to provide interesting conversation and dance partnering to unescorted or lonely women on the ship, so they do not feel like, what is the American expression, wallflower?”
“That’s kind of old-fashioned, but yes.”
“That is all. It is business.” Bassio shrugged.
“The stats are that more unattached older women cruise than men,” said Matt. “They want a little fantasy, a little escape. The ship’s hosts are attractive men who are bright conversationalists, good dancers, and smart. The ship pays the host; the women don’t. The hosts are not even allowed to accept tips. They are not allowed back to the cabins or in the spas with the guests, or anything like that.”
“I grew up in a small town in Italy, and studied art in Florence. This is a good way to see the world until I decide what to be when I grow up.” Bassio gave me another beautiful smile. “If I grow up.”
“Some day, those beautiful looks will be gone,” Roz warned, “and then you’ll have to rely on your talent.”
“The men in my family live to old age, and are all handsome until death,” Bassio retorted.
“What about women who want to dance with women? Or men who want to dance with men?”
“There are cruises designated for same-sex interests who do not bring their own partners,” Bassio informed her. “That is less shocking for the guests who are less. . .tolerant. If guests come with same sex partners, they do as they please, but the hosts are supposed to provide,” he searched for the word, “polarity.”
“Are there hostesses for the unescorted men?”
Bassio flashed a grin. “No. Unescorted male guests must take their chances with unescorted female guests.”