Deadly Cruise: A Humorous Cruise Ship Cozy Mystery (Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries Book 7)

by A. R. Winters

  “I heard some rumors about Polly Stratton.”

  “Oh?” Generally, we don’t like to gossip about ongoing murder investigations. While our employee handbook didn’t specifically mention the situation, it was strongly implied.

  “Yes. I heard you had her taken in for questioning over the death of Zoya?”

  “Ah. That. I can’t really talk about that, I’m afraid.”

  “So it is true.” Susan clasped her hands in front of her, seeming to squeeze them tight enough they turned white. “It’s just—it’s kind of important.” She flicked her eyes back and forth between Sam and I as if considering whether to continue. “She’s asked me to go into business with her. But if she’s a murder suspect, well, I’ll have to reconsider.”

  “Wait, she wants to go into business with you?” I leaned forward, eyebrows raised. “As in putting your picture on bags and stuff?”

  “Yes, she has quite the business. She assured me we could do very well. But if there’s a black cloud over her, I might have to reconsider.”

  What was Polly playing at? Was she trying to sign up every old movie star she could find?

  “You know,” I said, “Polly says she signed up Zoya to do that. Before she was killed. A whole range of classic horror movie images to be put on bags and shirts and even pens and pencils.”

  “No, I don’t think so. You must be mistaken.”

  “Nope.” I shook my head emphatically. “She had a contract. She showed it to me yesterday.” I didn’t mention that I thought the contract was fake; I was curious to hear what Susan had to say about it.

  “But that doesn’t sound right to me. Zoya wasn’t looking to promote herself as a horror slasher star. She wanted to get back into serious roles. There’s no way she would have agreed to anything promoting her old horror star persona. This cruise was going to be the last time it was mentioned. At least she hoped so.”

  A little behind Susan, I could see Kirk Field, staring down at his cell phone as if reading the most interesting email or text. He took slow, shuffling steps forward, not seeming to watch where he was going. I hoped he wouldn’t see us and try to join us.

  “So she wanted to get a serious role again,” said Sam before popping a piece of bagel in her mouth.

  “That’s right. Not that she would have had a chance!” Susan inspected her manicured nails.

  “Why wouldn’t she have had a chance?”

  I was expecting an answer like Tom Devlin would have given: she simply didn’t have the acting chops for serious roles.

  A little smile appeared on Susan’s lips.

  “Because the role she was after… let’s just say another actress was going to get the part.”

  “You?” I asked bluntly.

  “Judd talked to me about it as soon as he saw the script. Even though Zoya wanted the role, she really wasn’t suited for it. Outside of campy horror, she really struggles.” Susan paused. “Struggled.”

  “And you’re sure Judd would have given it to you?” Sam was holding her coffee cup in front of her. After asking the question, she took a sip.

  Susan glanced around as if checking for paparazzi. Seeing it was all clear, she leaned back in her chair, a proud look on her face.

  “Let’s just say, Judd and I have a… special relationship.”

  Sam and I looked at each other, confirming that we had both understood what she’d said in the same way.

  “You mean you’re sleeping with him,” blurted out Sam.

  “A lady never kisses and tells. Luckily, no one’s ever accused me of being a lady. But yes, we are lovers, but we’ve been trying to keep it quiet on the cruise. You know how fans can be sometimes.”

  Our conversation was interrupted by a scream. Not the scream of someone being murdered on screen, but one of annoyed surprise.

  “Hey! What the… what is that?” asked a familiar female voice. There was a pause and a sharp intake of breath. “Oh!”

  Half hidden by a planter was Patsy Prince sitting at a table close to ours. She was the source of the scream.

  She was currently staring up at Kirk Field, who was clutching a little glass bottle in one hand and staring at Patsy, red-faced, with the other.

  “What was that?” asked Patsy, her hand running over the back of her neck. She flicked her hand in the air several times as if trying to shake something off.

  “Perfume,” said Kirk. “It’s a nice one. Expensive.”

  Patsy sniffed her hand and then pulled it away, the expensive scent being too overpowering.

  “You spilled it all over me!”

  “Someone bumped into me! I was just checking what it smelled like while I read my email and tried to walk over to an empty table! It’s not my fault!”

  “How do we know it’s not poison?” said a deeper voice.

  Leaning back in my chair, I looked around the planter that was blocking my view at a different angle. It was Patsy’s husband, Jimbo, complaining now. They seemed to have been enjoying a quiet morning together, without any bickering, until Kirk ruined it.

  “Why would I have poison? It’s just perfume. Nice perfume! See?” Kirk thrust the bottle in front of Jimbo Prince’s face, who promptly went to whack it away with a swing of his hand.

  “Hey!” Kirk pulled the bottle back just in time to avoid it being sent flying.

  He shoved the stopper, which had been in his other hand along with a plastic bag from the ship’s perfume shop, back into the bottle. The perfume box and attachment for spraying it were likely still in the bag.

  “I’d better calm them down,” Sam said to us, rising to her feet and shaking her head like an exasperated parent. A lot of her job really was like babysitting.

  “You’re going to have to pay us compensation! You can’t pour stuff over strangers and get away with it!” Jimbo shoved his own chair back and stood up.

  Just as it looked like things were about to get really heated, Kirk dropped the bottle back into the plastic bag, gave a panicked look at the enraged husband of Patsy, and sprinted away.

  Sam went to placate the couple. My eyes followed Kirk as he ran away, dodging an elderly couple and then nearly running straight into the captain.

  Although I was sure it was the captain, he wasn’t in uniform. He was holding something close to his chest. When Kirk almost barreled into him, his eyes shot up in surprise and he turned away, half-crouching.

  While Ethan always seemed to walk around with shoulders back, head held high, facing the world head on like an open book, the captain was the complete opposite. Right now more so than ever.

  “Excuse me,” I said to Susan. “Something just came up.”

  Leaving the actress alone with two half-finished bagels and two half-drunk cups of coffee, I slid out of my seat and went to follow the captain to see what he was up to.

  As I passed Sam and the Princes, Sam was offering them gift vouchers for the spa, but it seemed like they wanted a lot more.

  Not envying her at all, I walked down the deck after the captain.

  I wanted my ring back.

  Chapter Twenty

  The captain didn’t look back. His shoulders were hunched, and he glanced side to side as I followed some distance behind.

  He was definitely up to something.

  My suspicions were confirmed when he stopped outside the ship’s cocktail bar. This particular venue was only open in the evenings, and they served the fanciest mixed drinks on the ship in a refined atmosphere. Since it was barely past nine in the morning, it was still closed.

  The captain unlocked the door using his keycard and, after a brief glance around, slipped inside.

  I pressed my hands up against the glass to try and see inside. The lights were off, but I could make out the captain moving around toward the back of the bar.

  Ever so gently, I pushed the door open and slipped inside.

  To the right was a counter that was used by the bar’s greeter when the place was open. I ducked behind it, peering up the bar after t
he captain.

  The countertop had a large glass bowl that was almost entirely full of business cards. People dropped them in for a chance of winning another cruise when they paid their bills. I crouched so that my head was behind the bowl, and I peered out to see what the captain was up to. I ducked back whenever it looked like he might turn to face my direction.

  The captain started at the back of the establishment, near the wooden bar where the bartenders worked their magic. He lifted up chairs, shifted tables, and yanked the cushions out of the bench seats in the booths.

  He was breathing heavily, and it sounded like he was getting more and more exasperated while he searched.

  What on Earth was he up to? The most charitable explanation I could come up with was that he had lost something the night before, but he didn’t want to bother the staff so was searching himself.

  But that didn’t seem right. He wasn’t just searching one specific area; he was going through the whole place.

  The captain seemed to get more and more frustrated as he moved closer to the front of the bar. He must have expected what he was looking for to be near the back, because he didn’t even bother to search the last few booths.

  After a seemingly fruitless search, the captain stalked past the counter I was hiding behind and went back to the front door.

  Should I confront him? Would he confess to stealing the ring?

  There was only one way to find out. Just as the captain pulled open the door, I stood up straight, determined to confront him before he left. I parted my lips, about to call to get his attention.

  “…”

  I didn’t get a single word out.

  A hand slapped across my mouth from behind and prevented me from making a sound. As the captain opened the door, I felt myself being dragged backward.

  I tried to struggle, but the grip was so strong and tight. I couldn’t even make a sound to attract the captain’s attention. He was out the door without even realizing that I had been there.

  “Stop it! I’m on your side!” The voice was an urgent whisper in my ear.

  Ahead of us, across from the counter, was a mirror on the wall.

  My eyes went wide in my reflection as I saw who it was who stopped me.

  The mystery man in the Hawaiian shirt. He had one arm wrapped around my neck and mouth and the other was holding a gun. I froze.

  “Sorry about this.”

  He dragged me backward through the curtain and into the cloakroom next to the greeter’s podium.

  He pulled open a door with his gun hand.

  “Sorry!” he said again, and then with a firm shove he pushed me through the doorway.

  I fell to the floor and before I could do anything else, the door in front of me closed, leaving me in the dark.

  I heard the sound of footsteps hurrying away.

  I wasn’t normally scared of the dark. But it was really dark, pitch black. It was the kind of dark that made you unsure whether your eyes were open or closed, or even working at all. So dark you could taste it.

  Reaching up for a door handle, I found nothing. Just a smooth wooden surface. I swung my other arm around and it crashed into a wall.

  Another more useful realization came over me. I still have my phone! I pulled it out of my pocket, and when the screen lit up with a dim glow, I was giddy with relief.

  Next, I turned on the flashlight and used it to illuminate my surroundings. Above me were several shelves, each divided off into numbered sections. This was where bags, umbrellas, and other items that weren’t hung on a closet rod were stored.

  I had visions of being stuck in there until the staff came to open up in the evening.

  “Silly Adrienne,” I said to myself as I realized I was holding the solution to my problem in my hand.

  Annoyed with myself, I called Ethan.

  “Hey, Ethan? I need a little help…”

  “Adrienne! Where are you?”

  “In here! Behind the counter, through the curtain!”

  The sound of his footsteps was a welcome relief, but not as much as seeing his face when the door finally swung open.

  “Whoa!” he said, holding his hand in front of his eyes.

  “Oops, sorry!” I said, lowering my phone and switching off the flashlight to stop blinding him with it. “Am I glad to see you!”

  Ethan offered me a hand as we left the cloakroom and returned to the counter.

  “And I’m always pleased to see you.” He looked around the empty bar. “It’s a bit early for me to start drinking, though.”

  I filled him in with more detail than I had on the phone on what had happened.

  When I was done, Ethan held his chin with his hand, frowning.

  “But you have no idea what the captain was looking for in here?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’m worried about our mystery man. You said he had a gun?”

  “Yeah. But he did say to trust him. It’s kind of hard to trust an armed kidnapper, though.”

  “I don’t think we should trust either the captain or the mystery man. Whatever the two of them are up to, it’s no good.”

  “Yeah.” I rubbed at my neck where he’d grabbed me, but it didn’t really hurt. It was like he had been careful not to injure me. “But the Hawaiian shirt guy could have hurt me, if he wanted to.”

  “While I’m thankful he didn’t, when I track him down…” Ethan’s words trailed off ominously.

  “So what are we going to do?”

  “Leave it to me. And please, could you not follow either of them to non-public places? Things worked out okay this time. But if you hadn’t had your phone…”

  I shuddered at the thought of being locked in that cupboard, in the pitch black, for hours and hours. I would have lost my mind. Or done some serious napping.

  “Yeah, I think I’m over following people into dark and secluded places for the time being.”

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I walked out of a department heads meeting, and they’re probably wondering what I’m up to.”

  “Are you going to tell them?”

  “No. I’ll just make up an excuse. Like telling them their meeting was so boring I had to leave.”

  I knew he wouldn’t really say that, but it made me laugh imagining it.

  “See you later!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I was on my way back to Ethan’s office a few hours later to see if he’d learned anything since the morning. The orderly’s station was empty for once. Must be off getting his coffee, I figured.

  Ethan’s office door swung open, and much to my surprise, Susan Shelly stepped out. She was carrying an off-white canvas bag, much like the ones Polly had printed Zoya’s image on. She stared at me like a deer in headlights for a moment before giving me a big smile.

  “Oh, hello! Fancy seeing you here!”

  “Hi, Susan. Been talking to Ethan?”

  She shook her head.

  “Unfortunately, he isn’t there. I just popped my head in, but he’s not around.” She patted the bag she was holding. “I wanted to store some jewelry in his safe. You can’t trust the ones in the room.”

  “No?” Even though I knew it was true from my own experience, I was surprised to hear other people saying it.

  “Not with anything you really care about. Did you know staff can open them? For when stupid customers forget the code they set?”

  “Or maybe forgetful ones.”

  Susan shrugged. “Forgetfulness is a trait of the stupid.”

  It seemed like a bit of a harsh—and untrue—statement to me, but I wasn’t there to argue about the intelligence of imaginary guests with a washed-up actress.

  “See you later, Susan.”

  With Ethan absent, I went on to the next thing on my to-do list. I hadn’t uploaded anything to social media yet that day. There was a rodeo-themed lunch going on in the Grand Ballroom, and guests had been encouraged to dress up. It was going to be a good opportunity to take some pictures, so that’s
where I was headed next.

  When I arrived, I was amused to see so many middle-aged people dressed up as cowboys, cowgirls, and other twentieth-century Wild West characters.

  “Howdy, pardner,” said a large man in a Stetson as I entered.

  “Howdy to you too,” I said with a nod.

  There was a large projector screen at the front of the room, and they were going to show two John Wayne films back-to-back after lunch was finished. Along one wall a temporary saloon-style bar had been set up, and there were waiters and waitresses in antique attire scurrying around.

  Enjoying the spectacle of it all, I took plenty of pictures, trying to think of what kinds of captions and hashtags I could use with them.

  I had been feeling a little down after my harrowing experience that morning, but being in such a busy room full of so many cheerful people brightened my mood.

  Not everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, though.

  Kirk Field was sitting at a table for two, but he made it look like a table for one. He was staring down at his plate, which featured a T-bone steak, cowboy beans, and a sour-cream-topped baked potato.

  He looked so miserable it made me feel guilty. Passengers are supposed to have fun on our cruises. Even the annoying or slightly nutty ones.

  “Hi, Kirk! How’s it going?” I said. “That steak looks good.”

  “Does it?” He asked the question genuinely, as if he had no idea what a good steak was supposed to look like.

  “It sure does. Are you a big Westerns guy?”

  “Westerns?” Kirk raised his chin and looked around the room. “Oh. No. Horror, that’s what I like. The good stuff, from the seventies. I used to love Zoya’s films, you know.”

  “Yes. You’re her biggest fan!”

  “I was,” he said quietly.

  An uncomfortable silence hung in the air, and I racked my brain for how to change the subject to a happier one. “That looked like a nice bottle of perfume you had earlier. Is there a lucky lady?”

  Kirk began to move the beans around his plate with his fork, dragging it through them.

  “It was a gift. Well, it was going to be. But not anymore.”