by R. T. Jordan
“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” Tim asked. “I mean, we don’t have a confession. We don’t even have real proof.”
Polly frowned. “What do you call a missing DVD, the same one used to kill Laura Crawford? And the Dick Cheney voodoo doll? And the Follies program with all those expletives about Laura? I think we have more than enough to drag Lawrence Deerfield’s skinny butt into a cell and charge him with murder.”
Just then the door opened, and Captain Sheridan stepped into the room with another officer who was bearing a tape recorder and a manila folder labeled CRAWFORD, LAURA A. “Please be seated,” Captain Sheridan said. “Miss Pepper, I understand that you have information about Laura Crawford’s killer?”
“Indeed, I do!” Polly stood up and began to pace. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, dear Captain, but one of your very own cruise entertainers is Laura Crawford’s killer. The piano player, Lawrence Deerfield. He slashed Laura Crawford’s neck in the spa on the night of May tenth, our first day at sea.”
Captain Sheridan nodded. “Evidence?” he asked.
“For one thing, he purchased my DVD collection on the day of the murder. It’s been established that the weapon used was disc number six. Deerfield has the collection, and that disc is missing! Also, I found this in his cabin.” Polly held out the pincushion and handed it to the captain. “Notice the location of all the pins, except the one in the back. Read what’s pinned there.”
Captain Sheridan did as instructed and raised an eyebrow when he saw the initials L.C.
“Finally, there’s this theater program from a show that Laura Crawford was supposed to do with Lawrence, but she had him fired. He’s held hostile intent ever since. Look at the back. He even spells out how much he hated Laura’s guts. I’m too much of a lady to have those words in my virginal vocabulary, but I’ve been in show business most of my life, so I know their definitions.”
The captain swallowed hard and shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do.”
Polly was shocked. “You’ll let a killer go free? I’m practically handing the murderer to you on a silver platter and you’re ignoring it? If you look at the fingerprints on the DVD used in the killing of Laura Crawford, and match them against Mr. Deerfield’s, I’m certain you’ll find that they’re the same.”
“That’s a job for Homeland Security when we reach Juneau,” Captain Sheridan said. “In the meantime, I cannot slander a passenger with allegations. You have nothing substantive!”
It wasn’t often that Polly Pepper publicly displayed any other side of her personality than what fans expected: sweet, down-to-earth, and lovable. However, this time her façade cracked. She looked the captain straight in the eyes, placed the palms of her hands on the table, and leaned her weight into her arms. “I’m not used to anyone saying no to me. I’ve been a star since you were playing with boats in the bathtub. When I want something, I get it. And I want you to arrest Lawrence Deerfield for the heinous crime of murdering my friend, Laura Crawford. I don’t want excuses. I want action. And I want it now!”
Captain Sheridan stood up to his full height of six feet four inches. He towered over Polly. “Would you like to be confined to your stateroom for the duration of this voyage? That’s easily arranged. If I hear one more unsubstantiated accusation about one of my crew or passengers, I will have zero hesitation about posting a guard outside your door twenty-four-seven.”
Polly backed down. “I know my rights. Freedom of speech being one of them.”
“You’re in international waters, Miss Pepper,” the captain said. “I make the laws on this ship.”
Polly switched back to Polly Pepper mode and said, “Shall I see you at the captain’s table for dinner one night?”
Polly and company were escorted not only back to the elevator, but to their respective staterooms. After a half hour of pacing her own cabin and trying to decide her next move, Polly called Tim and Placenta and instructed them to meet her in the casino. When they were all together, Polly sought out Michelle, the cocktail waitress.
“Honey,” she said when Michelle came into view, “I need a teensy favor.”
“Anything for you, Ms. Pepper.” Michelle smiled.
“You were such a help the other night when you summoned those two fans of mine to the lounge. Would you do that again? This time, if you would make an announcement that the legendary Polly Pepper is hosting a ‘Who Murdered Laura Crawford?’ party in the atrium in five minutes, and the entire shipload of passengers and crew is invited, I’d appreciate it so much.”
“You’ve caught the killer?” Michelle asked with excitement in her eyes.
“I will as soon as you make the announcement.”
“Right away!”
Tim and Placenta were both feeling more than a little trepidation at what Polly was about to do. But Polly wouldn’t place her own reputation and integrity in jeopardy by making a false accusation. They figured she must know something that they didn’t quite realize yet. They both shrugged in resignation and followed Polly to the atrium.
Soon, Polly, Tim, and Placenta heard the announcement calling for everyone aboard the ship to visit the atrium for a once-in-a-lifetime program featuring the iconic Polly Pepper as she announced who killed her former costar. As crowds gathered, Placenta looked at Lawrence who had stopped playing the piano. “What’s up?” he asked. “Does Polly really know who murdered Laura Crawford?”
“She thinks so. But I can’t believe it and sincerely hope it’s not true.”
“I guess we’ll all sleep better tonight knowing that the killer has been caught,” Lawrence said with a bit of unease in his voice. “Although I wasn’t expecting to sleep.” He chuckled seductively.
When the atrium was filled to capacity, Polly climbed up to the platform stage and pulled the microphone out from its stand on Lawrence’s piano. She offered her perfect movie star smile and welcomed her fellow passengers, all of whom she said she hoped to become intimately acquainted with during the remainder of the cruise.
“As you all know, my dear friend Laura Crawford was brutally attacked and murdered on our first day at sea,” Polly began. “I couldn’t let her killer go free. I simply had to find the person who did this terrible thing to her.” Polly looked up and saw that Captain Sheridan had joined the group with a team of ship security personnel.
“It gives me no pleasure to make this announcement, because the killer is someone we all know and admire. His talent is delicious. He seems so adorable and sweet on the outside….”
“It must be Cori Berman,” a voice called from the crowd. It was Cori himself who made the announcement.
Polly regrouped. “That would be nice and easy, but a little too obvious. No, the person who killed Laura is …”
The atrium began buzzing during her pause. “Who is she talking about? Is this another game created by the cruise director?”
At last, Polly turned and looked directly at Lawrence. “It’s this man!” She pointed. “Lawrence Deerfield. Our wonderful piano player!”
Lawrence laughed at Polly’s joke.
But as a wave of incredulity swept through the crowd, and Polly became stone-faced, he started to feel uneasy.
“What are you talking about?” Lawrence demanded. “I’m not a killer. I’m a piano player.”
“And you do that so well, dear,” Polly said. “But facts are facts.”
“What facts? I had nothing to do with Laura Crawford’s murder,” Lawrence said. “I swear! This is stupid. Ridiculous! I must have an alibi, or something.”
Polly motioned for the crowd to calm down. “We’ve all heard that Laura was murdered with a DVD disc copy of my famous television musical/comedy variety show, which was in the top ten for the entire twelve years that we aired and garnered twelve Emmy Awards for me, and a buncha other fun commendations. Specifically, Laura was killed with disc number six.”
Polly picked up Lawrence’s boxed set of DVDs. “Please drop by the All Bound Up books
tore on the main deck, and purchase your very own set,” she said to the crowd, as if hawking cubic zirconia on QVC. “I see that the captain has joined us,” Polly announced. “Let’s give him a loud and warm welcome and call him up here to inspect this box, which came directly from Lawrence Deerfield’s cabin.”
“What were you doing in my cabin?” Lawrence said. He looked at Placenta, who avoided his eye contact.
The captain made his way through the crowd and ascended the six steps to the piano platform. He gave Polly an intolerant look. She responded with an even larger smile. “Captain, dear, would you please open this box and tell us what you find … and don’t find?”
Begrudgingly, Captain Sheridan picked up the box and carefully emptied the contents on top of the piano. He looked at each disc case. One by one he inspected them and held them up for the passengers to see.
“Open the jewel case, dear,” Polly encouraged.
When Captain Sheridan opened the first plastic case, he also took out the disc. He continued to the second jewel case. And then the third. Each disc was accounted for. When he arrived at the plastic case for disc #6, he slowly opened it, looked at Polly, then at Lawrence and then held it high above his head.
Instantly, a massive roar of “Oooooh” swept through the atrium. “Empty,” he said, and looked at Lawrence again.
Lawrence was in shock. “No!” he yelled. “It’s got to be there! I didn’t even know Laura Crawford! Why would I kill her?”
Polly spoke into the mic again. “But you did know her, Sweetums. She fired you from a production of Follies last season. Remember? And you hated her guts and wanted her dead, and so you killed her.”
“Sure she was a shrew, but I got this gig almost right away. I didn’t hold a grudge!” pleaded Lawrence.
“Then what about this voodoo doll we found in your stateroom?” Polly held up Dick Cheney for the crowd to see. They offered the same response of incredulity as they had for the missing disc. “All the pins are in Dick’s neck, or should I say, Laura’s neck? You even pinned her name to the doll!” Polly pulled the small bit of paper from the pin and read, “‘L.C.!’ Laura Crawford!”
The captain looked at Polly, and then looked at the crowd, which was suddenly out for blood. He nodded toward Deerfield and instantly four crew members in white uniforms and black epaulettes ascended the stage and took a flailing Lawrence Deerfield into custody.
Polly took a long bow and received thunderous applause from the other passengers. When she’d had enough of the ovation, Polly waved to her admirers and brought the mic to her lips. “I simply couldn’t let my dear Laura die without finding her killer. I’d do the same for all of you! We’re family!”
“You’re the only sleuth I’d want investigating my murder,” a voice from the crowd called.
Polly looked out among the throng and saw Cori Berman leaning against a faux marble column with his arms folded across his chest. “Dear Cori,” she said, “I’d be especially happy to look for your killer.”
Cori laughed with the crowd. “I’ve made so many showbiz enemies, you just might have that opportunity. But not on this ship of has-beens, please!”
Polly graciously, but facetiously applauded Cori. “Enemies? In Hollywood? Oh no, dear. That’s impossible. You’d have to work in Hollywood to make enemies there. Your last show was over a quarter century ago.”
“So was yours!”
The crowd erupted in laughter, and Polly saw that even Cori was nodding and laughing at his own expense.
“It was fun while it lasted,” Cori called from the edge of the crowd.
“The minutes fly by, don’t they?” Polly retorted and waved good-bye to the crowd. Tim and Placenta both took her hands and guided her down the steps from the platform to the deck. “I’m parched,” Polly said. “It’s time to hit the Mermaid Lounge! There’s a magnum with my name on it!
Placenta looked forlorn. Polly reached out for her hand. “I’m terribly sorry about your stinky love life. I sincerely wish that Lawrence hadn’t been a killer. But now you can get on with finding Mr. Right.”
Placenta halfheartedly agreed. “I suppose it’s better I found out this way, instead of getting the same treatment from Lawrence. I’ll be fine once we get back to Bel Air.”
As the trio sipped the last of their champagne, a well-dressed crew member in white uniform entered the lounge and looked around for Polly. Upon spotting her, he approached the table. “Miss Pepper?”
Polly cast her sleepy eyes upon the handsome young sailor. “Naturally,” she responded.
“Captain Sheridan has sent me to escort you to Lawrence Deerfield’s cabin. Follow me.”
“Lovely,” Polly said, taking the sailor’s hand and standing unsteadily. Tim and Placenta took over and held Polly’s arms as they followed the leader down the corridor. “A medal for bravery,” Polly sang, and did a little soft shoe. “At the very least, a commendation scroll. Suitable for framing! I’ll try to act as humble as possible.”
The quartet entered the elevator and dropped to the main deck. From there, they found another elevator that was hidden from the one used by the general passenger population. Down they went three more levels until the seaman held the door for Polly and her clan to exit.
“Looks familiar,” Polly said with a grin. When they arrived at Lawrence Deerfield’s cabin, the seaman knocked once on the door, opened it for Polly, then stepped aside.
The room was as it had been when they visited earlier in the day, minus the boxed set of DVDs, the voodoo doll, and the theater program. Now there was the addition of the stern-looking Captain Sheridan standing straight and steely. Suddenly, Polly wasn’t feeling so giddy. She reached out to take Tim’s and Placenta’s hands.
Captain Sheridan was silent as he appraised Polly. He saw a woman of middle age, her hair colored an indecipherable shade of rust, her nose and chin sculpted by Beverly Hills’ most experienced surgeons, and a look of fear across her face. He looked away from Polly for a moment, picked up the remote control for the television, then handed it to Polly. “Turn on the damn machine,” he said curtly.
“I’m not so great at working these gadgets,” Polly chuckled.
Captain Sheridan bellowed. “Turn it on!”
Polly’s body began to shake as she looked for the On button. Tim pointed to the power source, and Polly pressed the small bump on the remote. Suddenly, she saw herself on the screen. It was one of her finest comedy sketches. Then Laura Crawford came into view. Polly, Tim, and Placenta looked at the screen, then each other, then at Captain Sheridan.
“Very funny stuff. Now, eject the disc,” the captain said in an angry tone. “Now!”
Again Tim showed his mother the correct button. When the tray slid out from the DVD machine, Captain Sheridan instructed, “Take the disc out of the tray.”
Polly did as she was told and looked at the title. She turned ashen.
“Read it aloud, please,” the captain said.
“‘The Polly Pepper Playhouse.’”
“What else does it say?”
“‘Season …’”
The captain was seething. “Season what?”
Polly whispered, “‘Six.’ God, no! What about the voodoo doll and the initials L.C.?”
“Lawrence Casey. His passport was in the drawer. You should have looked at it. The so-called voodoo doll was nothing more than a pincushion. Seems that Mr. Deerfield, his stage name, alters his own pants to save a buck.”
“But the theater program. And all those horrible things he said about Laura Crawford?”
“There’s a difference between being mad and jotting down a few choice words, and slicing up someone’s throat.”
Polly slumped onto the bed. “I was sure that I had my killer.”
The captain started to leave the cabin. “If I were you, I’d lay low for the rest of the cruise. When the other passengers hear about this, it’s going to be humiliating for you. Oh, and surprisingly, Mr. Deerfield is not pressing charges of
slander. He’s a pretty neat guy, if you ask me.”
CHAPTER 11
Tim and Placenta guided Polly back to her stateroom. As they walked down the long corridors to the elevator, Polly wrapped her arm around Tim’s waist for support. When she was finally settled in her cabin, she was still shaking. “I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning. That’s it. My excuse. I’m not responsible for my actions because of sleep deprivation. Tell Arnie and Tommy they’ll have to cancel tonight’s performance. I can’t face an audience.”
As Placenta laid out Polly’s bedclothes, including her bathrobe, slippers and sleep mask, she tsk-tsked about Polly having to also miss her date with Dorian, “or whatever his real name is.”
Polly slipped out of her skirt and blouse and stepped into the robe. “Why would I miss my date? The fans can wait. My social life can’t. We’re not meeting until eleven. And don’t bother accompanying me to the Lotus Lounge. Dorian, er whoever, and I are adults. I can take care of myself.”
Placenta put her hands on her hips. “At least get a plausible explanation for him lying to you.”
“Nobody would lie about being given a first name like Dorian,” Polly said. “Away with both of you. And hang the PRIVACY, PLEASE sign on the door. The last thing I need is housekeeping coming in here and making those silly towel animals while I’m trying to recuperate from the most miserable day of my life.”
As Placenta led the way out the door, she called back and said, “Thanks to the iconic Polly Pepper, I’m going to have to work extra-hard tonight to comfort Lawrence and make him feel special. Should be a hoot.”
When Polly was at last alone, she peeled off her undergarments and slipped into her jammies. She pulled back the bedsheets and made herself comfortable. Donning the sleep mask, she settled in for a much-needed nap.