“I’ll make an appointment, too.” Trixie touched her short brown hair. “Maybe for highlights since I obviously don’t have much to cut or style.” She glanced sideways at her husband. “Or I could go completely blond.”
“No!” Owen yelped. “We’ve talked about this before, Trix. I don’t like dyed blondes.”
“It’s my hair.” Trixie’s eyes narrowed. “Do I say anything about your buzz cut?”
“Folks, can we discuss our personal style preferences some other time?” Wally asked, then zeroed in on Trixie. “So Ben didn’t have anything helpful to share?”
“I didn’t say that.” Trixie glared first at her husband, then at Wally and Skye. “If you all would stop distracting me, I was going to tell you that Ben mentioned that the day after Guinevere got on board she did something to tick off her steward.”
“That sounds interesting,” Skye said, dangling one of her turquoise-encrusted sandals from her toe. “Did he tell you any more?”
“Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything more to tell. Ben didn’t get the whole story, but he said he was in the crew bar and the steward was telling a buddy from his home country about whatever happened. When he noticed people eavesdropping, he switched from English to Ukrainian, and Ben couldn’t understand the rest.”
“You know”—Skye tilted her head—“it’s odd that with workers from all over the world, I haven’t heard them speaking anything but English.” She pursed her lips. “Not even to each other.”
“Ship employees are forbidden to speak any other language in front of the passengers,” Trixie said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Ben told me that the cruise line has lots of rules that can get you fired.” She widened both her eyes. “Or even worse.”
“Did you get the steward’s name?” Skye asked before Trixie went on a tear about workers’ rights. Not that she didn’t agree with her friend about civil liberties, but they needed to head off to the party soon. “Did Ben suggest how we can find the guy to talk to him?”
“Yuri Cheburko is his name,” Trixie answered. “He works the crew cabins, and Ben had no idea how we could track him down.” She giggled. “Ben said guests aren’t allowed into the crew area without special dispensation, so we might have to go undercover.”
“Hell, no!” Owen slammed his hand down on the table. “That was the one thing I said when we started this whole shebang.” He glared at Skye and Trixie. “You both promised no Lucy and Ethel capers.”
“I was just kidding,” Trixie assured her husband. “Skye and I wouldn’t do something that foolish with a murderer running around.”
Skye’s heart sank when she glanced over at Trixie, and saw that her friend’s fingers were crossed. Why did she have a feeling that soon she and Trixie would be wearing a housekeepers’ uniform and making the crew’s beds?
CHAPTER 17
Three Sheets to the Wind
The party for the suite guests and entertainers was held at the Haven, an adult-only solarium where passengers who were willing to pay an extra fee could relax on plushy cushioned lounge chairs in a quiet atmosphere. Unlike the noisy, crowded Sun Deck, the Haven’s stewards circulated, offering chilled face towels and Evian water atomizers. Tranquil yoga sessions and massages were the norm rather than bikini volleyball and beer pong.
This was her first visit to the Haven, and Skye admired the seamless blend of indoor and outdoor settings. A wall of windows had been rolled aside, and a warm breeze blew gently through her hair. She leaned against Wally and enjoyed the romantic atmosphere. It was hard to believe that, according to her brother, it was snowing back home in Scumble River.
The Boyds and the Fraynes were among the first to arrive, but within a few minutes, two dozen or so other couples trickled into the lounge. Soft music and cheerful voices blended together in a pleasant medley.
At ten thirty, the performers entered, escorted by the cruise director, a slick-looking man with a deep mahogany tan. He led the sixteen entertainers to the center of the room, asked for everyone’s attention, and presented the singers and dancers. As he introduced Candace Davidson, Skye studied the ingenue. Candace reminded Skye of Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada—tall and slim with an innocent yet sexy quality that was very appealing. If she had talent, there was a chance she might make it big in Hollywood.
After the cruise director finished his introductions, he instructed the performers to circulate and they obediently headed toward the guests. Skye figured they were used to doing this week after week and had developed a routine. She noticed that the entertainers worked the room in pairs, and Candace had joined another of the female performers.
Trixie whispered to Skye, “We should nab Candace Davidson now.”
“Let’s watch her for a while first,” Skye said in a low voice.
“Why?” Trixie’s brows met across her nose. “What if she leaves early or something?”
“You girls decide,” Owen said, nodding toward the temporary bar set up in a corner. “I’m going to get a beer. Anybody else want something?”
When Trixie ordered a glass of wine and Skye asked for a Diet Coke with a slice of lime, Wally said, “I’d better give you a hand, Owen.”
Once the two men left, Trixie asked, “So are we waiting or what?”
“It’ll be fairly hard to bring up the fight Candace had with Guinevere out of the blue,” Skye explained. “Maybe if we hang around the fringes and listen for a while we’ll hear something we can use to ease into the subject of the argument.”
“Okay.” Trixie’s tone was grudging. “But just remember, this may be the only chance we have to talk to her, so we can’t let her get away.”
An image of Trixie dressed as Annie Oakley lassoing and hog-tying the young dancer flickered across Skye’s mind. “Right,” she said, hiding her smile.
“Let’s go out on deck.” Trixie gestured with her chin, grabbing Skye’s hand. “Candace is with a group that just walked outside.”
“Candace seems to be the youngest of the performers,” Skye commented as she and Trixie strolled casually in the direction of their quarry. “The others appear to be in their late twenties to early thirties, but if she’s had her twentieth birthday, I’d be surprised.”
“Now that I see them close-up, I agree,” Trixie said. “The rest of them definitely look as if they’ve been around the block a couple of times.”
Skye and Trixie stood near Candace’s group, but didn’t attempt to join the conversation. The guests peppered the entertainers with questions and Skye noted that the other female performer monopolized the exchange, chatting with a practiced ease. Instead of talking, Candace downed a glass of champagne and grabbed another from the tray of a passing waiter.
As Skye listened, one passenger pointed to a table containing various canapés and desserts surrounding a centerpiece of a dolphin carved out of ice and asked, “Can we buy ice sculptures like that in one of the gift shops?”
Candace had been sipping her drink, and when she heard the ridiculous question she choked. Her gorgeous face turned red and tears streamed down her cheeks until her friend patted her on the back. When she finally stopped coughing, Candace apologized.
The other performer stepped smoothly into the awkward situation and answered, “I don’t believe ice carvings are available for purchase in any of our onboard stores.” The entertainer’s expression was innocent as she added, “But maybe you could inquire about getting one of the used ones to take home after it melts.”
Trixie and Skye exchanged amused glances, but when Trixie opened her mouth to comment, Skye put her finger to her lips and shook her head. Trixie raised her brows, then nodded her understanding and they both refocused their attention on Candace and her friend, who were excusing themselves to mix with the other passengers.
As Candace and the other entertainer moved on to another group of guests, Wally and Owen approached Skye an
d Trixie. Skye was explaining the plan to wait to talk to Candace until they’d had a chance to observe her when they were joined by the show’s male and female leads.
Both were in their thirties and wore heavy stage makeup. The man had on dark slacks, a blue-and-white-striped shirt, and a navy blazer and the woman was dressed in a tight black lace sheath with a plunging neckline and deep V in the back. They introduced themselves as Valentyn and Calliste, and asked where Skye’s foursome lived.
“We’re all from a small town in central Illinois about ninety minutes south of Chicago,” Skye answered. “How about you two?”
“I’m from South Africa,” Valentyn answered. “And Calliste’s from Paris.”
“The crew and staff must be a mini United Nations,” Wally commented.
“Oh, yes.” Calliste put her hand on Wally’s arm and fluttered her lashes. “We certainly are that. It sounds like the Tower of Babel in the crew bar.” She winked. “But most nights it’s more Sodom and Gomorrah.”
“I imagine with so many cultures, people clash all the time,” Skye said, trying to ignore that the beautiful woman was openly flirting with Wally.
“Not as much as you might think.” Valentyn shrugged. “In the end we all have more in common than we do differences.” He smiled sadly. “We all have jobs to do and we all miss our homes and families.”
“I can see how it would be hard to be away for so long,” Skye’s voice was sympathetic. She glanced at Candace, who was standing with a group a few feet away staring into her glass. “Especially for the younger workers who might be on their own for the first time.”
“Some of us are happy for the adventure.” Calliste pressed her breast against Wally’s arm. “And the chance to meet such charming gentlemen.” She tilted her head. “You don’t sound as if you’re from the Midwest.” She tittered. “You sound like the cowboy movies.”
“I’m originally from Texas,” Wally admitted, moving away from the clingy performer. “But I’ve lived in Illinois since I got out of college.”
“For your job?” Valentyn asked, a slight frown line forming between his eyes as he observed his costar take a swig of her martini and step close to Wally again. “What type of work do you do?”
“I’m the chief of police.” Wally edged away from Calliste for a second time, clearly uncomfortable with the woman’s continued pursuit.
“Ah,” said Calliste. “You are like the handsome Clint Eastwood in the Dirty Harry movies. I have the whole DVD collection.” She gave a theatrical shiver and licked her lips. “Perhaps you would like to make my day?”
“Are you on a case right now, Sheriff?” Valentyn’s frown grew deeper as he tried to deflect his costar’s attempts at seduction.
Skye and Wally exchanged a look and she understood that he didn’t want to reveal that they were investigating Guinevere’s murder. Intent on distracting the couple’s interest in Wally’s law enforcement background, Skye nudged Trixie and Owen out of the way, strolled over to Wally, and sidled between him and Calliste.
Turning to the predatory star, Skye said, “No. Wally’s not on board in his official capacity.” While she played with the two-carat engagement ring and the diamond-studded wedding band on her left hand, she stared meaningfully into the woman’s eyes and said, “We’re on our honeymoon, so he has more than enough to occupy him.”
“Touché.” Valentyn smiled at Skye, then said, “Calliste, my darling, it is time to withdraw your claws before this nice lady calls the vet to have you spayed.”
“You are always so funny!” Calliste’s laugh was a bit forced.
“You are mistaken, my pet.” Valentyn put his hand over Calliste’s. “I’m not really funny. I’m actually mean. You just choose to think that I’m joking.”
“Ah, I see it is past time for us to continue mingling with others.” Calliste narrowed her eyes and waved her fingers. “Bye-bye.”
Trixie put her hands on her hips. “The nerve of that woman. You should have slapped the plastic surgery right off her face. I was about two seconds away from doing it myself.”
Skye chuckled. “She did remind me a little of Cheez Whiz. You know, cheesy and overprocessed.”
“There are four of us standing together. Clearly, we are two couples,” Trixie said, continuing her tirade. “What did she think Wally was going to do? Start an affair with her while his wife is on board the same ship?”
“I suspect there are quite a few people who do,” Skye commented as she slipped her arm around Wally’s waist. “Not all men are as wonderful as our husbands. And there’s something about a cruise that seems to make people act differently than they might back home. What they would consider a sin there they think of as an adventure here.”
“Like this is all a dream and how you behave here doesn’t count,” Owen said. “It does seem more fantasy-like than I was expecting.”
“Yeah.” Trixie nodded. “There is a kind of vibe that implies that what happens on the ship stays on the ship. I bet a lot of husbands and wives do things here that they wouldn’t be caught dead doing on dry land.”
Wally, Skye, and Owen nodded in agreement. As the conversation turned to lighter subjects, Skye glanced at her watch. It was eleven forty. The party was supposed to end at midnight, and she figured that although guests wouldn’t be kicked out on the stroke of twelve, the singers and dancers would definitely pull a Cinderella. She was fairly sure that after performing in two back-to-back shows they were tired, and would rather go to bed or be with their friends than make nice with the passengers.
It was now or never if they wanted to talk to Candace about Guinevere. Skye glanced at the young woman who had been downing glasses of champagne at an alarming rate. Candace’s defenses would be lowered and her judgment impaired. This was the time to approach her.
Skye’s best chance of getting Candace to talk might be to find some common ground. She had overheard the young woman say that she had grown up on a farm in a small town near Kansas City, and decided to approach the girl as one farmer’s daughter to another.
Thinking that Trixie would be an asset since she was as used to dealing with adolescents as Skye was, but that the men might intimidate the entertainer, Skye explained her strategy to Wally and Owen. The guys agreed with Skye and she and Trixie drifted toward Candace.
The young woman had joined a group discussing shopping on St. Thomas and swimming with the dolphins in St. Maarten. Skye and Trixie put themselves between Candace and the rest of the crowd. Chatting aimlessly, they edged the young woman several feet away from the herd.
Once she was sure no one was paying any attention to them, Skye said to Candace, “Did I hear you say you were from Missouri? We’re from Illinois.”
“Do you live in Chicago?” Candace asked, her hazel eyes brightening.
“Nope.” Trixie leaned against the railing. “Scumble River’s about as far removed from the city as you can get. We like to say it’s seventy-five miles south and seventy-five years behind Chicago.”
“Yeah.” Candace nodded. “Shadow Bend is like that too. We’re about ninety minutes from Kansas City, but it might as well be on the moon.” She sighed. “That’s why I couldn’t wait to leave there. Growing up on my parents’ farm, all I ever dreamed about was getting away.”
“Been there. Done that,” Skye said. “Got the T-shirt, but would rather go naked than have to wear it again.” She smiled companionably. “I left my hometown the day after I graduated from high school and didn’t go back until twelve years later—and then only after my fiancé dumped me, I was fired from my job, and I had maxed out my credit cards.”
“Wow.” Candace’s back straightened. “That’s not happening to me. I’m going to be a big success and everyone in Shadow Bend who thought I was a fool to try to make it in show business will have to eat their words.”
“I’m sure that’s true.” Trixie patted the youn
g woman’s hand.
“Still . . .” Skye tipped her head. “It must be hard being so far from your family.” She took a sip of her soda. “Is this the first time you’ve been away?”
“Except for vacations,” Candace confessed. “I tried community college.” She twitched her shoulders. “But school was never my thing. I don’t have the patience to sit and read. And I was totally lost when we stopped using numbers and started using letters in math. Luckily one of my dance instructors told me that cruise ships were looking for performers, so I sent in an audition tape and they hired me.”
“College isn’t for everyone,” Skye assured the young woman. “So this is your first time on your own? I remember missing my parents more than I thought I would when I went away to college.”
“Me, too!” Candace said. “And I miss my animals so much it hurts.”
“I can understand that,” Skye said, digging in her purse and producing a photo. “This is my cat, Bingo. I haven’t been gone even a week and I think about him all the time.”
“He’s a doll,” Candace gushed. “I’ve been on board for seven months.” She sighed. “This is my first contract with the cruise line and I had to sign up for a year.”
“That’s got to be tough,” Trixie commiserated. “You haven’t been able to get home at all during that time? Not even for a short visit?”
“We barely have a day off, let alone time to fly back to Missouri.” Candace’s voice hitched. “It’s not exactly what I expected.”
“I imagine the crew and staff become like a family.” Skye had finally figured out a way to work Guinevere into the conversation. “Is everyone friendly and supportive of each other?”
“Most of them.” Candace took a swig of her drink and hiccupped.
“Oh?” It occurred to Skye that Candace didn’t seem old enough to be drinking, but maybe the age was lower on the cruise ship or maybe they just didn’t check IDs as closely as they did in the States. She’d certainly seen a lot of sloshed people. This truly was a booze cruise. Refocusing, she asked, “Who wasn’t very nice?”
Murder of a Needled Knitter Page 17