Terror at Sea: Three mysteries aboard a cruise ship

by Debby Mayne

  “Party pooper.” Steps lightened, but his mind still muddled over the moodiness of women, Lance let her lead the way to a street vendor where they purchased sweet rice wrapped in Tao leaves.

  He’d taken his last bite of the honey-flavored stickiness when Cohn rounded the corner. The agent’s eyes widened as Lance met his gaze, then he turned and dashed back the way he’d come. Lance grabbed Molly’s hand. “Come on.”

  24

  M olly dropped the last of her rice when Lance yanked her arm. Her camera bag banged against her thigh. She slid with an awkward surfing move and let out a yelp as he dragged her with him. “Where’s the fire?” Couldn’t they spend time together without her being tugged? Maybe they should’ve stayed snuggled on the bench.

  “I don’t want him to get away.” Their feet pounded down the sidewalk.

  “Who?”

  “Cohn. We need to let him know about the money we found. And I’d like to know why he’s running from us.”

  “You said he wanted any information we could give him.” Molly gasped for breath as they rounded the corner. Cohn was nowhere to be seen.

  “That’s my point.”

  She pulled her hand free of Lance’s and bent over to gulp a lung full of life-saving air. Even the fresh ocean air couldn’t disguise the rotten odor of spoiled food coming from the nearby dumpster. Her stomach rolled, threatening to lose the brunch she’d just eaten.

  Lance punched his thigh. “What is with these people? Do we exude some kind of odor? Everyone we need to speak to avoids us like the plague. Makes me suspicious.”

  Molly straightened and planted fists on her hips, her breathing still labored. “You’re imagining things. The SVP always listens, kind of. The captain gives you his attention, divided though it might be. He’s a busy man. Cohn is an undercover agent. He needs to make sure he remains anonymous.”

  “In the city,” Lance leaned against the side of the building and brushed an arm across his perspiring forehead, “officers know who their enemies are, who has their back, and who prefers to put them six feet under. Here,” he shook his head, “I have no idea. Nothing makes sense.”

  If Lance couldn’t make heads or tails out of their circumstances, Molly sure couldn’t. But maybe, if they sat down and talked things over, something would pop up. “Let’s find a table somewhere and go over what we do know. There’s a coffee shop around the corner.”

  Once they sat at a wrought iron bistro-style table and chairs, surrounded by fragrant island blossoms that effectively erased the pungent garbage odor from her nostrils, Molly withdrew a small spiral notebook from her camera bag. “Okay. The crime is murder. Our suspect is Robert Morrison.”

  “And you suspect him of this, why?” Lance crossed his arms.

  “Because he creeps me out.” Good grief. Hadn’t they established him as their primary suspect days ago?

  Lance raised his eyebrows. “That’s not enough of a reason.”

  “Then you tell me why. You’re the cop. I’ve been following your lead on this whole thing.” Molly glared at him. “I haven’t a clue what I’m doing, except trying to stay alive.”

  “I don’t know why yet. Instinct? But something doesn’t mesh.” He ordered two iced coffees from a passing waitress. “Plausibility? Being convicted of embezzlement would be enough reason for some people to kill.”

  “Most people.” Molly scribbled his comments beside Morrison’s name, then added Natasha as the second name. She glanced up to see Lance scowling at her. “What?”

  “Would you kill someone for money?” His eyes narrowed. “Or any reason for that matter?”

  The pencil fell from Molly’s trembling fingers. “I … don’t think so. Maybe. If my life depended on it. Or someone I cared about. Never for personal gain.” Surely, he’d fired his weapon at people. Maybe killed one or two. Why give her a hard time over a simple comment?

  “Okay.” As if he hadn’t put her on the spot, Lance continued. “Why her?” He leaned forward and pointed at Natasha’s name.

  “Women’s intuition. She acts like she knows the money is missing.” Molly picked up and pointed the pencil at him, amazed at how much she enjoyed brainstorming with him, when he wasn’t making a sideways accusation of her motives. It almost made her feel like a real police officer. Not to mention drinking coffee and talking seemed like a date.

  Her gaze fell on his lips. How would he respond if she initiated the kiss? Both times he had, and not for romantic reasons. Her face flamed remembering the kiss on the beach. She forced her attention back to the notepad before she made a fool of herself.

  “What she doesn’t know is who took it. She can’t accuse me, because what if I’m not aware there was a fortune stashed above my bed? What if her partner took it? Or the cleaning crew, for some reason.”

  Lance gave her a crooked grin. “You’re good at this.”

  The waitress arrived with their coffee, and Molly took a drink of caffeine heaven. “I used to watch a lot of TV.”

  His laugh rang across the courtyard. A few customers smiled their way. “That’s not a realistic portrayal of the justice system.”

  She wadded up a napkin and hurled it at him. It brushed his forehead then fluttered to his lap. She should’ve thrown something harder. But even that would’ve bounced off his hard skull. “One second you’re commenting on how good I am, the next you’re ridiculing me. Make up your mind, Lance Spencer. Am I an idiot or not?”

  “Anything but.” His face darkened. “You switch moods faster than the sea during a storm, do you know that? Keeping up with you is like chasing embers from an exploding volcano, or…”

  “Okay, I get it.” She gritted her teeth and picked up the pencil. “Back to work. What could Morrison and Natasha have in common? An affair?”

  “Not likely with the way he’s keeping time with the waitress.”

  “It’s a secret relationship. A cover so people won’t be aware they know each other.”

  “More television? Sounds like a soap opera.”

  *

  Lance watched in awe as Molly’s eyelids fluttered faster than a hummingbird’s wings. Bright spots of crimson dotted her cheeks as she slowly rose from her chair.

  Lance bolted to his feet. “I’m sorry.”

  “Obviously, you can’t take me seriously, so I’ll be going back to the ship.” With a flounce of her curls, she whirled and stormed away.

  Why did he insist on teasing her? He’d had several glimpses of her temper hiding behind a lovely face. The more comfortable she got with him, the less timid she appeared. A sense of satisfaction filled him. In a matter of days, he’d helped her overcome the cloud her ex-fiancé had left hanging over her head. If teasing accomplished that, he’d make sure and keep it up. But first, hurt feelings needed soothed. And he didn’t think flowers would suffice this time.

  “Molly.” He reached for her arm.

  “Don’t touch me.” She yanked away.

  “I’m only teasing you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s wonderful to sit and brainstorm with someone again. And women see things differently than men. Your insight is invaluable.”

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “I’m not. Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers.

  Molly rolled her eyes. “The scout hand sign uses three fingers.”

  “Girl Scouts?”

  She shook her head. “Still three fingers.”

  “You’re full of useful information. I need you.” His heart lurched. Three words said in jest shot into his heart like cupid’s arrow. He did need her. Not just for brainstorming a cruise line murder, but because, suddenly, life seemed darker without the thought of her with him. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Seriously.”

  She tilted her head to peer up at him. “Then I apologize for my childish behavior. I really don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

  He did. The shackles of Vince were falling away, and he thanked God for her freedom.

  “Oh, look
.” Molly shaded her eyes toward the ocean.

  Parasailers floated overhead beneath chutes in every color of the rainbow. Miniscule vibrant specks against the azure sky. Lance’s heartbeat accelerated just watching them. He knew what would put a smile back on Molly’s face.

  “Do you want to try?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re afraid of heights, remember?”

  Could he do it? Be suspended way above the ocean, tethered only by a cable? No. “I could sit on the boat and watch.”

  She wagged a finger in his face. “I know what you’re doing, Mr. Spencer, and it’s working. I’m not mad at you anymore.”

  “So does this mean you want to fly?”

  She giggled. “No, that is too much for even me. But thank you for the thought.”

  Looping her arm in his, they strolled past excited tourists and meandering locals. The sun warmed their backs, the waves serenaded as they caressed the shore, and the air was filled with the heavenly perfume of exotic flowers. There was nowhere Lance would rather be at that moment than in paradise with Molly.

  Molly laid her cheek against his arm and squeezed. “There’s a soft heart under that tough cop exterior.” She peered up at him. “And a pretty face.”

  “I never should’ve told you what I used to do for a living.”

  She giggled. “Probably not. Of course, I’m not sure I like being seen with a man prettier than me.” With a slap to his shoulder, she dashed away.

  The little imp. Lance gave chase, almost colliding with her when she skidded to a stop and ducked behind a fence.

  “Over there. By the whaling ship.” She lifted her camera and snapped a picture.

  Lance lifted his head. Natasha stood with legs shoulder-width apart, arms crossed, and a red face. Clearly not happy with her companion. Lance shifted, trying to see who she’d made the target of her anger.

  Morrison stepped away, turned, shouted something in return, then stormed down the sidewalk.

  25

  L ance knew before she opened her mouth that Molly would have something to say about seeing Morrison and Natasha together. “I told you they were involved with each other.” Molly straightened and glared at him.

  “I never said they weren’t. Only that we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” He took her hand and continued their walk to the ship.

  “I have a bad feeling about this.” Molly shivered. “Sometimes, I know these things. Like women’s intuition.”

  “Really? The first time you’ve mentioned it.”

  “Don’t get mouthy.” She increased her pace and practically dragged him up the gangplank. “We need to stand at the railing and watch them board. See if they arrive together.”

  Molly Nicholson was going to give him gray hair. “If you’re in danger, letting them know you’re watching is not a wise thing to do.”

  “You’re here. What could possibly happen?” She crossed her arms across the top rail. “Besides, you’re still carrying a weapon, right?”

  “I’m not going to shoot on a crowded ship, Molly.” Lance shook his head. Yep, she definitely watched too much television. He propped a leg on the bottom rail. A breeze blew the scents of seaweed and suntan lotion past him.

  Passengers chatted and laughed as they trickled in small groups to board the ship. Their last day on the islands, then five days at sea. Hopefully, Lance wouldn’t go stir-crazy. Of course, the woman at his side would keep things from getting boring. But that long away from land also put her more at the mercy of a killer and a thief.

  He straightened. Morrison shoved his way through the group of giggling high school graduates and dashed inside. A hundred yards behind him, Natasha strolled, head held high. She paused and glanced to where he and Molly waited.

  Molly gave a wave. “Might as well pretend nothing is happening.”

  Natasha set her lips in a firm line, and proceeded past them.

  Uh-oh. Prior experience told Lance that was not a good sign. “Come on.” He laid a hand on Molly’s back. “Let’s go in. Something’s up.”

  “What do you think it is?” Molly’s eyes widened. “They wouldn’t try anything during daytime, would they?”

  Lance shrugged. “No telling, but we need to make sure we’re surrounded by people. No hanging over the railing or hiding out in hallways.”

  He led her into the grand foyer, marveling again at the beauty and size of the marble and glass staircase. Even the passengers who bought the cheapest staterooms confronted elegance around every corner. Someday, when he didn’t have a woman to keep alive, Lance intended on taking another cruise and actually having time to enjoy the trip. Even better would be a vacation taken with Molly.

  Natasha approached them with Jack Morley at her side. She thrust a finger in Molly’s face. “There she is. I demand compensation.”

  *

  Molly shoved her hand aside. “Excuse me?”

  “Miss Nicholson, please follow me.” The SVP turned and headed toward his office. His shoes clicked across the tiled floor.

  Natasha lifted her chin. Molly glared. What had the woman told security? Dread filtered down Molly’s back and into her bloodstream. “Come on, Lance.”

  “Mr. Spencer may wait outside my office.” Morley held open his door.

  “I prefer he come with me.” Molly squared her shoulders. “There’s nothing you can say to me that he can’t hear.”

  Once inside, Morley waved a hand toward the three extra chairs in the room. “Have a seat, please.” He lowered himself into a leather office chair, then steepled his fingers. “There has been a serious accusation made against you, Miss Nicholson. By Miss Borovsky.”

  “I’ve done nothing to her.” Molly clenched her hands together in her lap. The vinyl seat squawked beneath her.

  “You lie.” Natasha flicked a hand in her direction. “You stole from me.”

  “Stole what?” Molly cut a glance to Lance. He imperceptibly shook his head.

  “Money. From my suitcase.” The woman’s glare shot daggers into Molly’s stomach.

  “The only thing I saw worth mentioning in your suitcase…” Too late. Molly clamped her lips together.

  “Ah, so you confess!”

  “I do no such thing.” Time for a new direction. “Why do you have photos?” There. Molly glanced at Morley.

  “So I can identify my new roommate. Why else? Very innocent, I assure you. But you,” Natasha stabbed a finger in Molly’s direction, “are a thief. You admit it.”

  “No, I, uh, Lance?” Why did he sit there like a lump? He could help her!

  Morley’s sigh interrupted. “Miss Nicholson. Miss Borovsky. Until we get to the bottom of this, I’m afraid I will have to have both of you resign from your positions.”

  “You’re firing me?” Molly fought back tears.

  “No, just a minor suspension. You will continue on the cruise. By the time we reach Vancouver, I will have reached a decision.” He flipped over a sheet of paper on his desk. “You two are roommates, I presume. Since you, Miss Nicholson, were in the room first, you may stay. I will move Miss Borovsky.” He frowned and shuffled through a stack of papers. “You don’t seem to have good luck with roommates, Miss Nicholson.”

  “I do not want a different cabin.” Natasha crossed her arms. “Make her leave.”

  “That is my decision. Miss Borovsky, you are excused. Miss Nicholson, Mr. Spencer, please stay a moment.”

  Natasha rose and left, slamming the door behind her. Molly cringed at the bang.

  “Detective, I’m assuming you chose to keep your profession a secret from Miss Borovsky. But, regardless of your relationship with Miss Nicholson, I must insist you keep her under a professional watch.” Morley leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “Stealing is a serious offense aboard the Destiny. I’m sure you understand that.”

  “But, I…” Molly cut off her protests when Lance raised a hand.

  “Yes, sir. I agree fully.”

  “There’s two…”

  L
ance kicked her under the table.

  She huffed and settled back in her seat. What kind of game was he playing? Letting her be accused of a crime. She’d never been more humiliated in her life. “Wait a minute. I’m a contracted employee. You can’t fire me.”

  Morley rolled his head on his neck. “I have already spoken to your employers. They gave you high recommendations, thus my decision to suspend, rather than terminate.”

  “Oh, then, thank you.” Heat flooded from her neck to her face.

  The SVP folded his hands and cemented his gaze on Molly. “Your friend, Antonio, was killed. Hilga has disappeared. Now, you are accused of stealing. Life aboard this ship has not been good to you, Miss Nicholson. Take care.”

  She shuddered and tried to brush off the cloud of fear threatening to hover over her head. “I will.”

  Lance stood and held out a hand. “Thank you, Mr. Morley. I’ll watch out for Miss Nicholson.”

  “I trust you will. Good day.”

  Molly stifled the urge to follow Natasha’s example of slamming the door behind her, instead whirling to face Lance. “Why didn’t you stick up for me?”

  “Lower your voice.” He led her to a settee beside a potted plant and lowered her into it. “I wanted to see how things played out. Besides, you did go through her luggage and if I said anything, it would alert people to the location of the bags.”

  “Oh.” Molly arched her eyebrows. “Well, then, how, exactly, did they play out?”

  “I have no proof. Yet. But I believe Natasha suspects you of taking the money.” Lance sat beside her. “Morley doesn’t seem to know anything about it, or he wouldn’t have been so eager for me to guard you. Plus, I no longer consider him a suspect. He seemed genuinely concerned for your welfare. His request for me to stick close makes it harder for people to get to you.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You almost gave Natasha exactly what she wanted.”

  “How?”

  “If you would’ve told Morley the bags were stashed in the purser’s safe, he would’ve asked her whether they were hers. She would’ve known right away where the money is.”