Caribbean Moon

by Rick Murcer

  What a day today had been. Lingering thoughts of how Louise and he had investigated the Ocean Duchess, deck by deck, came back to him with amazing clarity. With first-time cruiser enthusiasm, they had entered every brightly colored bar and dazzling public room. Most ships have a particular theme and the Ocean Duchess’ decor represented royalty, from every major country.

  Manny had taken special note of the jazz bar called the Sapphire Room. Nothing like jazz to get the juices flowing. He might actually relax in that kind of a venue.

  The pumped-up explorers had browsed every shop window of the ship’s surprisingly complete mall. Fine clothes and stylish, expensive gems from every persuasion called to them.

  They had sat in the thick velour chairs of the Palace Theater and Lounge, and wondered what would be the night’s main attraction. The stage was shrouded with a purple rhinestone-studded design that resembled the Taj Mahal.

  They had checked out the brightly lit Las Vegas-style casino on Deck Five where one-armed bandits and a dozen or so gaming tables waited like sophisticated muggers. But, like the shops, the Casino of Kings remained closed while the ship was in port.

  They had managed to pick up the black tux he rented, and would wear on both formal nights, at the ship’s tux shop. Two tuxedos in less than a week. Not good. Cops from towns like Lansing didn’t don tuxedos. It was a serious dichotomy. Like the Detroit Lions and winning football games.

  Louise had also wanted to check out the photo lounge and the two main dining rooms located at the rear of the ship. When they reached the restaurants, wonder escalated to a new level. The Atrium spiraled upward through four decks with a royal blue décor, trimmed in awesome hues of gold and silver. Manny had reached out to feel the ornate light fixture at the left of the elevator.

  “Hey, don’t touch that stuff. If you break it, the price goes right onto the room’s bill.”

  He responded with running his hand over her hip. “Really? How about if I touch this?” “Manny! There are people everywhere. Control yourself.”

  “What’s the fun in that?”

  “I’ll show you fun, just not in the Atrium.” The look in her eye more than offset her feigned look of mortification.

  “Chicken.”

  “Nope. Just being proper.”

  All of their exploring had been accomplished with “the drink of the day,” a strong rum punch, clutched in their hands. Louise wanted one because they were able to keep the “expensive” plastic tumblers. He couldn’t let her drink alone. Besides, they had cute little umbrellas.

  They had finally returned to their cabin, after an unbelievable meal of glazed chicken and rib eye steak, to sit out on the balcony and experience the incredible Puerto Rican sunset. It was like every postcard Manny had ever seen.

  Louise stood up. “I’m ready to go to my first Sail Away Party, big boy.”

  “Works for me.”

  “By the way, don’t think I didn’t see your face when those cops showed up at the hotel. For a minute, I thought you were going to get out of the cab.”

  “What? I would never do that. At least not on vacation.”

  “Just remember, we’re not in Lansing and the world will survive without your crime solving talent. Got it?”

  “No problem. I just didn’t like how the scene at the hotel was going down. It felt bad.”

  She put her arms around his neck, “Manfred Robert Williams, the only feelings you are allowed on this holiday have to do with my ass and a great time.”

  Manny laughed and promised, again, to do as he was told.

  He held the door and followed Louise out. He knew she wanted it to be that easy, and he would try. But he didn’t always know when to quit. A trait he loved and hated about himself.

  CHAPTER-18

  The Crosby wedding group agreed to meet on the crowded, festive Lido Deck at 10:15 p.m. sharp. Manny, Louise, Gavin, and Stella waited for the others, marveling at how the Sail Away Party had begun to take on a life of its own.

  Loud Island music engulfed the crowd of a thousand or so diverse cruisers with its mesmerizing cadence. And who doesn’t like party music?

  Manny watched as cruisers sang with the band and danced with freedom and gyrations that would embarrass them to a bright red if their co-workers and family could observe their “vacation” behavior. But the atmosphere was spellbinding. It reminded him of the National Geographic documentaries. An indigenous tribe in some third world country would dance to a traditional, centuries-old drumbeat celebrating a wedding or important festival. Primitive, yet exotic and riveting. He had never seen traditional native dancers with rainbow umbrella drinks and silver cans of beer clamped to their hands in any of those documentaries, however. Maybe, someday, recordings of cruise-ship behavior would be studied to see how this primitive culture celebrated.

  At that point the others arrived, minus Lynn and Liz. The couple was probably “enjoying” the new surroundings and would be here soon enough.

  The ship released a deep bellow, and Manny watched as dark smoke rolled from the unique stack as the majestic vessel began to shimmy and move away from the pier. She swung left and headed toward the narrow canal that would set her free to roam the Caribbean Sea and its wondrous islands. The group pushed to the railings and watched San Juan slip away into the dark, humid evening, waving at imaginary well wishers, laughing at the gesture.

  After moving away from the railing, they waited another fifteen minutes for Liz and Lynn to show, but they didn’t. The young natives in the group were getting restless.

  Finally, Gavin released the young couple with an impatient wave of his hand. “I don’t know what on earth I was thinking. Why would they want to hang out with us?” said Gavin.

  “Hey. Hey. Speak for yourself. I’m not that old. I could hang with them,” said Alex Downs.

  “Maybe you don’t remember that little nap I just woke you up from, party boy,” ribbed his wife Barb.

  “Oh yeah, that,” Alex grinned.

  “You too?” asked Gavin.

  “What is this, an old fogy’s cruise?” said Sophie, shaking her head.

  “Nope. Just conserving energy for the rest of the week,” answered Gavin.

  “I don’t know where Liz and Lynn are, but let’s grab a place to sit. They can find us when they get here,” suggested Stella.

  “Good idea.” Manny moved to claim two empty deck tables, and promptly plowed into an older, corpulent woman. She would have hit the deck with authority if he hadn’t reached to steady her. He winced as her pina colada tumbled to the deck, splattering in a hundred directions.

  The woman was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a blue flannel shirt. Her thin white hair was mostly covered with an experienced straw hat. Her black-rimmed glasses were fogged over from the humidity.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you. Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay. It’s these damn glasses. They steam up out here. I probably walked right in your way. Blind old woman, I am,” she rasped. She had “that” sound, like she had been sucking on cigarettes the majority of her life.

  “I’m sure it was my fault. I get in a hurry. Let me make it up to you and replace your drink,” Manny said. Without giving her a chance to respond, he called over one of the many willing waiters and ordered a fresh drink.

  The old woman strained at Manny through her glasses, looking like an owl in some long-forgotten cartoon.

  “It wasn’t necessary, but thanks.”

  Manny started to reply and stopped in mid-sentence, looking at her intently, like he should know her or that he had been in this scene before.

  “What it is it, young man?” grated the old woman.

  “Nothing. Just a little Déjà Vu. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  The woman said she was and waddled away toward the buffet.

  “What the hell was that?” asked Sophie.

  “Like I said, just a little Déjà Vu. Almost like I knew her.”

  “Do you?” asked Louis
e.

  He thought for a moment. “No. Just that weird feeling thing, I’m sure.” Except he wasn’t sure. There was something about her. Another place in time?

  “Okay then.” Louise grabbed his arm and bum-rushed him to the dance floor. “We’re going to shake our booties.”

  Between the music, dancing, and a few drinks, Manny forgot the incident with the old lady, eventually plopping down in his chair, perspiring heavily from the impromptu Dance Night.

  Two hours later, the crowd was thinning and the atmosphere settled to a dull roar when Alex commented that Liz and Lynn had never put in an appearance, suggesting he should go roust them out of bed.

  “No need to harass them tonight. Maybe they needed the rest. They’ll be on the excursion to Trunk Bay in the morning. We can give them a hard time then,” said Manny.

  The group talked awhile longer, and Manny and Louise got up to go to their cabin. As they walked past one of the occupied deck chairs, he noticed the old woman he had bumped into sleeping hard, her slack mouth half open, breathing heavily. A partially consumed drink resting on the deck near her hand showed Manny she had enjoyed the evening a little too much. Her wayward hat revealed more of her thin white hair, and it made him think of someone recovering from chemotherapy.

  The same odd sense of Déjà Vu returned. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but it would come to him, if it needed to.

  CHAPTER-19

  The loud knock at the door woke Lynn Casnovsky from his sound slumber, forcing him to a shaky sitting position. He rubbed one eye and blinked around the cabin, attempting to gather his wits. The brass reading lamp pushed out a soft funnel of light that spilled over his shoulder, giving that side of the room an unnatural faded glow. His eyes glanced down at his Rolex, and he moaned. They had missed the Sail Away Party. Liz and he had made it a practice to never be late--for anything, and especially with these guys. The ribbing was going to be amazing and no telling when it would end.

  The last thing he remembered was booking two island excursions and scheduling Liz’s full body massage. It was marvelous that you could book any activity on and off the ship by just following the prompted menus on the TV screen. He looked at the remote resting on the ruffled bed comforter.

  Another magnificent use for the all-powerful Excalibur.

  He was glad he had checked out Carousel’s stock situation because it could end up being one profitable investment.

  Standing on the small balcony, Liz had been taking in the incandescent sunset, right after they had returned from the perfunctory lifeboat drill. He had meant to join her, but never made it. He must have lain back on the bed. Liz had let him sleep.

  The knock came again. Liz was bustling around in the tiny bathroom with the hair dryer going full bore. She obviously hadn’t heard the door. It seemed an appropriate metaphor for how things had been going for the last few months. She talked. He pretended like he hadn’t heard her or acted like she had meant something else.

  His wife the attorney. She knew he was whoring around with his current fling, and the last thing he wanted to do was get anywhere near the subject. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  The rap was louder this time, more persistent. It was probably the Purser’s desk with the bottle of champagne he had ordered. But it could be their room steward, checking with them to see if they needed anything else for the evening.

  “Hold your horses.” He crawled off the front of the bed, and shuffled to the veneer-covered door.

  Maybe it was the pervasive sense of comfort that had wrapped itself around Lynn like a warm blanket on a cold Michigan night, but it never occurred to him to peer through the security hole in the door. He should have.

  Lynn pulled open the door and was sent crashing toward the queen-sized bed by a powerful right hand that instantly shattered his jaw in four places. Amazingly, he hung on to a groggy consciousness. The room was spinning as he heard the towering figure shut and lock the door.

  The intruder jerked him from the floor and turned him around so that Lynn’s face was pointed away from him. The man possessed the strength of the damned. Lynn knew what was next. His training in the Marines opened that hideous door of enlightenment.

  Why?

  His arms wouldn’t move, and he was helpless to stop the attacker. He wanted to scream for Liz to lock the bathroom door. To save herself. Pain seared his mouth as he sought to move a jaw that had already swollen to twice its normal size.

  Lynn caught sight of the reflection of the man shining from the polished terrace window, and confusion assailed his senses. He recognized the tall man behind him. What was he doing here? Why would he want to kill him?

  The large, strong hands positioned themselves on each side of his chin. Regret raised its ugly head, and fear held his hand. He wasn’t ready to die.

  A revolting sound of breaking bones disrupted the silence as several of Lynn’s vertebrae shattered into something that resembled moldered cement. He was dead before he hit the floor.

  ****************

  The visitor pulled the limp body of Lynn Casnovsky onto the bed and positioned him so that he looked like an innocent, slumbering child. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and waited.

  Tall, shapely Liz Casnovsky would exit the bathroom in a few minutes. He would greet her his way. She would be confused, shocked, maybe even drop her mouth open. Not only because someone else was in their cabin, but that it was him.

  What could be better than this?

  A moment later, Liz emerged from the tiny bathroom as predicted.

  “I’m ready for dinner, Lyn…” the rest of her statement stuck in her throat like a wayward piece of steak.

  “Hi, Liz.”

  He watched her try to regain some of her lost composure, “What are you doing in here?”

  “Anything I want, DA Casnovsky. Anything I want.”

  He saw alarm steal over her. She swung her hand at him, and he caught the blow like it came from a two-year-old. He trapped her eyes with his own and read them like a familiar book. She was thinking that this sort of thing just doesn’t happen, at least not to folks like her. This scene, this invasion, was only played out in a horror movie or a Dean Koontz novel.

  It wouldn’t do to let her scream. Not when he was this close. With incredible quickness, his hand caused her face to disappear under the chloroform-laced rag, forcing its sickening fumes into her nose and mouth.

  A few seconds later, her lithe body relaxed completely. “Now the real party can begin,” he uttered as he carefully laid Liz beside her dead husband.

  His eyelids fluttered in ecstasy while he anticipated what would happen next. She was quite attractive, and he would enjoy this one. Paybacks are sweeter when one can orchestrate the exact set of circumstances.

  He slowly began to unbuckle his belt.

  CHAPTER-20

  Captain Vicente Serafini stared at the taunting piece of paper in front of him--even after he read it a third time. The words reached out and grabbed him by the front of his uniform and demanded attention he took no pleasure in giving.

  It was early on Monday and they had just docked in St. Thomas when his first officer brought the disturbing fax to his office. He had never gotten one quite like this, not in his fourteen years as a cruise ship Captain.

  He gazed around his opulent office and fixated on the plaques and black-framed certificates of achievement hanging neatly on the teal wall. They reminded him of the accomplishments his hard-driving ego had to achieve, and he liked them. Why shouldn’t he?

  He’d worked with uncompromising effort to learn the intricacies of being a ship’s captain in Italy, his homeland. Those years of commitment and sacrifice had been rewarded when Carousel Cruise Lines hired him and two years later gave him his own ship. The appointment of his first Captainship rivaled the births of his two sons, and his wedding day, as the most special events in his life.

  Standing, he gazed out the small porthole behind his desk. It was another day in paradise, and that’s just w
hat he and Carousel sold, paradise. Lavish green, riveting blue, charming native cultures, and colorful umbrella drinks for those who paid their hard-earned money. He rubbed his chin. There was no room in paradise for messages like the one laying spread eagle on his desk. None.

  The Captain turned back toward his chair and caught his reflection in the mirror-like polished chrome that encircled the window. Even though his hairline had been receding over the last couple of years, he was still good-looking, in a distinguished sort of way. But the crow’s feet were gathering, and it was mornings like this that accelerated the process. They made him feel older than his forty-six years.

  The fax begged him to read it again.

  Dear Captain Serafini,

  We regret the necessity of sending this communication, but we deem it essential to alert you and your officers of potential danger to your passengers and crew.

  Yesterday morning, at approximately 11:55, we discovered the brutally murdered body of a young woman at the Condado Wyndham Hotel. We have reason to believe that the murderer may be a passenger on one of the three cruise ships that sailed from San Juan last evening. We emphasize may. We are still conducting our investigation and will advise if anything pertinent arises to the contrary.

  If you or your crew witness anything unusual with any of your passengers or uncover any information that would assist in this investigation, please contact me at once.

  Again, the purpose of this communication is to simply request that you alert your security staff and senior officers of the potential risk. We do not wish to cause widespread panic aboard your ship, but every precaution should be exercised, given the level of the disturbing attack administered against the young victim.