Terror at Sea: Three mysteries aboard a cruise ship

by Debby Mayne

  22

  M olly grunted beneath the weight of one of the bags before she hooked it comfortably over her shoulder. “Let’s find Cohn. Do you know which cabin is his?”

  “We can ask the purser.” Lance grabbed the other stash of cash.

  Before leaving the room, Molly glanced up and down the corridor. A handful of employees headed to their rooms or duty stations. Hopefully, no one would think twice about seeing a couple carrying bags. Even during the dinner hour. She almost skipped to the purser’s station, relieved to finally put an end to the nightmare of the last week. Once the money was locked in the safe, she could enjoy her job and the few days left with Lance.

  Ten minutes later, she listened in disbelief as Bob Dickson stood behind the counter and told them there was no Will Cohn listed on the passenger list. “That can’t be.” She let the bag fall at her feet. “He’s an FBI agent investigating one of the passengers.”

  Bob glanced at the list in his hand. “Then he’s registered under a different name. Maybe he’s undercover.”

  “Then why would he come up to Officer Spencer and introduce himself?” She planted her right fist on her hip and tried to look intimidating.

  Lance drew her to the side. “There’s something rotten at sea, Miss Molly.” He ran a hand through his hair before holding up a hand when she started to speak. “Let me think.”

  Indignation coursed through her. “Excuse me.” She crossed her arms. What was there to think about? You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out Cohn wasn’t who he said he was. “You‘re a cop. You should’ve known his identification was false.”

  “No, what I should’ve done was verified with the FBI. His badge looked authentic.” He grabbed the bag she’d been carrying in his free hand. “Come on. We’re heading to the internet room.”

  “Why not make a phone call?”

  “Because whoever’s behind what’s been going on is one step ahead of us. I’m not going to chance anyone listening in. I’ll send an email. We’ll have some kind of answer in the morning.”

  She trotted to keep up with him. “But what about the money? We can’t put it back in my room.”

  “If they come looking for it, and it’s not there, somebody’s going to be upset. The target on your back will get bigger.”

  No way. “I’m willing to take my chances. Lock it up with the purser.” What if Natasha were involved? Molly couldn’t trust anyone but Lance until the whole thing was over.

  Natasha towered over Molly by almost a foot. If she were mixed up in things and went looking for the cash and found it missing, she’d most likely believe her partner, if she had one, had already retrieved it. Molly still hadn’t accepted the fact that her roommate intended her harm. She could’ve gone psycho in the shower earlier if that was her intention.

  Like an obedient puppy, she followed Lance to a room which housed ten computers. Lance chose the one farthest from the entrance, set the bags on the floor, then pulled out a chair. Within seconds the ticking-tacking of keyboard keys filled the otherwise silent space. Lance stuck out the tip of his tongue as he typed. Smiling, she sat in the seat next to him.

  When he’d finished, he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. “My buddy’s on the computer. We’ll wait a couple of minutes and see whether he gets back to us.”

  Molly shrugged. She obviously wasn’t cut out for detective work. All the sitting around had gotten boring, then when the action started, fear set in. She’d much rather make people happy and mind her own business. A ding drew her attention back to the monitor.

  “Huh.” Lance leaned forward. “Dickson must be right.”

  “About what?”

  “Cohn must’ve registered under an assumed name. There’s a Will Cohn working for the FBI. Here’s his photo. It’s a couple of years old, but definitely him.” Lance rubbed a hand over his chin. “All we have to do now is find him and let him know about these bags. In the meantime, we head back to Dickson and have him lock them in the safe. We’ll have to take our chances that the perpetrator doesn’t try to retrieve them until we reach Vancouver.”

  “You mean Morrison. And what about my roommate?”

  “As I’ve said numerous times, Molly, we only suspect Morrison. We don’t have any proof on him or Natasha. Do you know of any reason to request a change of cabins?”

  Molly sucked her lower lip in-between her teeth. She didn’t. Chances were they sailed with a full crew and there wouldn’t be any bunks available.

  “There’s an extra bunk in my cabin.”

  Her face flamed just thinking about sharing a room with Lance. “No, I couldn’t do that.” Innocent or not, it wouldn’t look right. Anymore than him sleeping in Hilga’s empty bunk.

  Vince might’ve stolen her innocence, but a girl still had to hold onto her morals. No matter how enticing the man.

  Lance laughed and turned back to the screen. “I’d find somewhere else to sleep. The weight room, foyer, anything.” Another blip and he squinted at the computer. “Interesting. Cohn hasn’t checked into headquarters for a couple of days.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure. First thing, we lock up this money. Second is dinner. I’m starved.”

  *

  He smiled at Molly’s worried expression. Anything to lessen the severity of the crease between her brows. “You go pretend to do your job. I know you won’t be able to focus completely.” He placed a hand on her lower back. “It’ll work out, Molly. I promise.”

  “There you go again. Making promises you might not be able to keep.”

  Without looking inside the bags, Dickson took one in each hand. Lance waited until the purser locked up the money, then steered Molly into the dining room. The familiar clatter of silverware, laughter, and muted conversation mixed with the smells of beef and chicken. Lance’s stomach rumbled. Some vacation. He spent the majority of it tired, hungry, or trying to keep himself and Molly from being killed.

  Now, the found fortune hung over their heads. Lord, what have I gotten myself into? Couldn’t he take R&R like any other man?

  He studied Molly’s heart-shaped face, amazed at how quickly his grumbling stopped. She quickly became worth anything he might go through to keep her safe. He faltered. How had his affection for her grown so quickly?

  Molly stepped away from him and moved around the circumference of the room, snapping photos of posed passengers. Her smile looked forced, too wide and pasted on a too-pale face.

  No sign of Cohn in the dining room. He picked Morrison out of the crowd. The man winked at the young woman he’d been spotted with at the seven pools, for once his mood seemed lightened. Not the glowering man from the beginning of the voyage.

  Choosing a seat at his usual back corner table, Lance kept an eye on the door. If he could spot Cohn before he entered the room, he might be able to speak with him without Morrison knowing. He smiled as the waitress brought his dinner, then lifted his fork.

  What clues did he have to suspect Morrison? Other than Cohn’s investigation into embezzlement. The man’s brooding personality? Not good enough. The way he seemed to be everywhere Molly was? Could be coincidence. They were on a ship after all. Not a lot of places to be alone. Cop’s instinct? Lance chose to go with that idea. He speared a bite of steak. But Morrison, being the likely suspect, didn’t necessarily mean he was the one responsible for the crimes.

  The medium-rare beef finally made it to his mouth. Lance leaned back and savored the blackened seasoning on top. The captain nodded as he passed and Lance returned the gesture.

  Had the Hawaiian police discovered anything about the body in the warehouse? Lance rose and stepped outside the room while he kept tabs on Molly’s whereabouts. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in the numbers to the police.

  “This is Officer Spencer. I’m checking on the possible homicide that took place in a warehouse on the dock in Honolulu.”

  “One moment, please.” A woman�
��s pleasant voice sang across the air waves.

  “This is Detective Okymoto.”

  “Spencer here. Have we found out anything?” Lance watched as Molly strolled from one table to the other.

  “Alberto Juarez. Small-town crook with a rap sheet a mile long. Nothing to tie him to Morrison or the ship.”

  Lance ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks. I’ll keep in touch.” He flipped his phone closed and headed back to his seat.

  Having the name of a two-bit thug didn’t explain why two satchels of money had been hidden in Molly’s cabin. Crime-solving onboard the Destiny was going nowhere fast. He needed help. Like now.

  Where was Agent Cohn?

  23

  I still say you should sleep in my cabin.” Lance leaned against the wall outside Molly’s room.

  “No, I’ll stay here. If Natasha is involved, she won’t suspect that I know a thing.” She put her hand on the knob. “If she says anything, I’ll play dumb.” That ought to be easy, considering she knew very little. “Goodnight.”

  Lance’s gaze settled on her lips. Would he kiss her?

  She licked her lips and tilted her chin.

  His eyes darkened, then he straightened. The middle of a murder investigation was not the time for romance. He should’ve held back before now. “Goodnight. Call me if you need anything. Lock your door.”

  “I will.” She never should have told him about Vince. Now the man acted like a skittish rabbit. She opened the door and slid inside, closed it, then leaned back and ran a finger over her lips. What she wouldn’t give for a repeat of the undercover kiss on the sidewalk a few days ago.

  “Late night?” Natasha barged from the bathroom and flounced on her bunk. Molly jerked as Natasha glanced toward the ceiling and crossed her arms.

  “Not too late. It’s only ten o’clock.” Molly forced herself not to follow the other woman’s glance. Perspiration broke out on her upper lip driving away all thought of kissing Lance. “How did your first evening go?”

  “Okay.” Natasha folded her legs and slid beneath the covers. Her icy eyes flickered again to the ceiling above Molly’s bunk.

  “Is something wrong?” Molly grabbed her nightgown and paused at the bathroom door.

  “No. Nothing.” Natasha set her jaw firmly and rolled to face the wall.

  Molly finished preparing for bed and shakily climbed beneath her own blankets.

  Natasha knew. Her continuous looking at the ceiling tiles could not be Molly’s imagination. She studied the ceiling. They weren’t out of order. Molly wrapped her arms around her to halt her shivering.

  Would Natasha kill her in her sleep? Drag her off to be questioned by Morrison? Her heart beat in her throat, thundering in her chest. Maybe she should’ve stayed with Lance and hanged the consequence. God would understand, right? She knew he would, considering the circumstances, but she wouldn’t get any more sleep in Lance’s cabin than here. In his cabin, the distraction would be definitely different, and she wasn’t sure which was the more dangerous.

  She kept her purse close to her side. If Natasha attacked, there wouldn’t be any time to search for it and dig out her cell phone. Her eyelids grew heavy and she forced them open. Can’t sleep. Not tonight.

  She blinked and opened her eyes to the sight of Natasha dressing. Molly glanced at her watch. Six a.m. She’d slept and woke up alive. Thank you, God. Taking a deep breath, she swung her legs and stood.

  Clothes peeked from her drawer. She cut a sideways glance at Natasha. She knew she’d closed the drawer last night. Fine. If her cabin mate thought she’d hide thousands of dollars in cash beneath her underwear then more power to her. “Good morning!”

  Natasha grunted and left the room, slamming the door behind her. Molly couldn’t hold back her giggle. Despite being terrified of being murdered in her bed, she’d fallen asleep only to awaken and find her clothes rummaged through by a very disgruntled roommate. She couldn’t wait to tell Lance as they continued their tour through the island town of Lahaina. Their last port before setting sail toward Vancouver.

  A knock sounded at the door. Molly opened it with a grin on her face. “Good morning.”

  One corner of Lance’s lip curled, giving him a debonair look, despite the evidence he’d slept very little again. “Why so cheerful?”

  “I’m alive.” She chuckled and pulled the door closed.

  “You expected not to be?” The dimple she loved winked from his cheek.

  “Yes, actually.” She led the way to breakfast, enjoying the warm hand at her back. In the space of a few days, she welcomed his touch. Craved it. How different from Vince this man proved to be. Still prone to anger, but able to hold it in check, Lance treated her like an equal, not an object.

  He pulled out a chair for her, then chose one beside her. “You know, the fact that the money is missing from its hiding place will most likely work in your favor. They won’t be sure whether you have it or not. They’ll want you alive to question you.”

  “Oh, goody. Something to look forward to.” Molly rested her chin in her hand. Her mood swung from ecstatic to melancholy in the time it took to breathe. Maybe she needed to see a psychiatrist.

  Lance chuckled and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Cheer up. The cruise is almost over.”

  She peered at him through lowered lashes. Did that thought not bother him in the slightest? Is that all she was to him, a job? They’d spent almost every waking moment of the last week together. Fine. If that’s the way he wanted things to go.

  Molly clamped her lips together, shoved back her chair, stomped out of the dining room, and then stormed down the gangplank. She’d lost her appetite.

  *

  What’s wrong with her? Lance ran a hand through his hair and moved to follow. A simple joke could send her off faster than a rogue wave out to sea. Even though his partner had been a woman, he wasn’t any closer to understanding the way their mind worked.

  Molly waited with crossed arms on the dock. “There’s no need for a car today. I’d rather walk.” Her gym shoes slapped the concrete as she practically ran away.

  “Molly, wait.” Lance quickened his pace and grabbed her arm.

  She yanked free, but not before he saw the sheen in her eyes.

  “Are you crying?” He’d rather face another bullet than her tears.

  “No.” Her cheeks reddened and she lifted her chin before continuing at her rapid pace.

  He caught up with her again. “Please stop and tell me what’s wrong.”

  She whirled fast enough, he had to take a step back in order to prevent her head from connecting with his chin. “If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you. You … you … oh, you stupid man!” Molly stomped her foot and ducked into the nearest art gallery.

  Stupid? Ouch! A stab right to the heart. Lance squared his shoulders and scratched his jaw. He glanced up and down the sidewalk, at a loss as to how to proceed. Should he follow her inside, or give her a few minutes alone? He decided on the latter and turned to lean against the brick outer wall. Art wasn’t his forte anyway. Neither were women’s emotions, obviously.

  A whaling ship towered over the harbor. Lance studied its sleek lines while he waited. Would life have been any simpler in years gone by, sailing on a ship, worrying about nothing more than the day’s catch?

  Molly stepped from the gallery, gave him a cold look, and motioned with her head for him to follow. Like an obedient servant, he did. He occupied his time admiring her graceful curves, the way her hips swayed when she walked, and the way her curls bounced in the tropical sun.

  “Are you finished ogling me?” Molly turned. “How would you like it if the tables were turned?” She let her gaze travel over him.

  Lance laughed. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Good grief.” Her mouth twitched. “You’re incorrigible.”

  He slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. “But you can’t help but like me anyway, can you?”

  “That’s the problem,” she muttere
d.

  The reason for Molly’s bad mood hit upside the head like an anchor. The reason for Molly’s bad mood. He couldn’t have held back his grin if he tried. She cared for him and thought he didn’t feel the same.

  He grabbed a handful of flowers from a street vendor, thrust a twenty-dollar bill into the woman’s hand, and bowed as he gave the flowers to Molly. Her cheeks turned rosy.

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as you.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Let’s grab something to eat.”

  “We skipped breakfast, didn’t we? I’m sorry about that.” She buried her face in the blossoms.

  “Molly.” Lance lifted her chin so she faced him. “Everything will be okay.”

  “You keep saying that. Yet people keep dying or disappearing.”

  “I’m talking about us.” He drew her out of the way of strolling tourists and sat on a bench beside the ocean. He wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. How could he convince her he didn’t plan on taking a hike once the cruise was over?

  The breeze blew strands of hair into her face. Lance reached over and tucked them behind her ear before planting a kiss on her upturned nose. “There’s something about you, Molly Nicholson.”

  Her eyes brightened. “I’m not just a job to you?”

  “How could you think that? I’m supposed to be on vacation. If I weren’t drawn to you, I could’ve let the local police handle things.”

  “They aren’t doing a very good job.”

  “They’re doing the best they can.” He straightened and spread his arms along the back of the bench. “But I’m talking about us.”

  She rose and took his hand. “Are you sure this isn’t just about that steamy kiss on the bench?”

  Or any of the other places. “That’s most of it. I’d like to try again.” He stood and lowered his head, leaning toward her.

  She pushed him away and giggled. “Let’s eat before we make a public spectacle of ourselves.” Or she crossed over a line into public wantonness. Help her, Lord, but the man was enticing.