Set Sail for Murder

by R. T. Jordan

  “Pity the poor accountant who picks up the phone when J.J. calls,” Tim tsked.

  As the trio sat on the sofa watching the debarkation process on the television screen, and expecting the passengers on their deck to be summoned at any moment, Polly said, “Once the Peeper runs a story about my paintings and the big part they played in Laura Crawford’s murder, I’ll bet they’ll finally be worth something.” She turned to Placenta. “You said freak-o fans bought Matt Dillon’s jacket for tons o’ dollars …”

  “Damon’s jacket. The younger Matt,” Placenta said. “Affleck’s sexier better half.”

  “Whichever. We might just come out ahead after all,” Polly brayed.

  “Ahead is where you’d better stay, or you’ll be sued for copyright infringement,” Tim suggested.

  “Go steel a pot of espresso, Sweetums. You’re in your prejava mood.”

  “Stick to the story you’ve told for years,” Placenta said to Polly. “You unknowingly bought forgeries from Laura and were shocked to find out the truth. But Good Samaritan that you are, you not only forgave her, but you replaced her fakes with other fakes.”

  “Which is sorta true.”

  “You’re still an accessory to unauthorized reproduction of intellectual property, and one degree of separation from being personally responsible for Laura’s murder,” Tim said.

  Polly winced.

  “Who cares that you convinced a naïve art student to illegally create second-generation copies.” Placenta tried to calm Polly. The statute of limitations must have run out by now!”

  “They were a gift,” Polly defended herself. “For an ungrateful but destitute Laura.”

  “If she hadn’t had the knockoffs in the first place, she wouldn’t have been killed for her larceny,” Tim said.

  “And stupidity,” Polly added. “I’m only responsible for cleverly escaping from getting myself murdered in an effort to find Laura’s killer!”

  Tim leaned over and hugged his mother. “If Dorian had succeeded in doing to you what he did to Laura, I’d be going to jail for murdering him, to avenge you. And thank God for the law of aerodynamics! I know I’m heartless to say this, but I sorta giggle every time I imagine Dorian’s coat blowing open and filling with sea air. I can see your description of him rising like the flying nun before being whisked overboard and dropped into the ocean!”

  Polly failed to stifle a titter. “I’ll go to my grave remembering Dorian with his big brown eyes, and the exact same expression of shock and resignation to doom on his face that Wile E. Coyote wears when he’s outsmarted again by the Road Runner and finds himself standing midair and about to plummet to the desert with a boulder closing in for a direct hit.”

  Polly turned to Tim and hissed, “By the way … eww! I never made love to Dorian. I know I said ‘sparklers,’ but trust me, he wasn’t even a lit match!”

  “That’s a story for Grandma,” Tim chuckled.

  While watching the television and the stream of passengers filing out to the gangway, Placenta reminded, “You have an appointment with the police as soon as we set foot in Alaska.”

  “A quick interview and a few autographs,” Polly said.

  “You’ll be lucky if they let you go in time to watch the world end in 2012,” Placenta countered.

  “Nonsense. They’ll give me a commendation for bravery and actions above and beyond the call of duty,” Polly said confidently. “After all, I did them a huge favor by finding Laura’s killer.”

  Over the ship’s PA system the announcement was finally heard that passengers on Polly’s Veranda Deck could queue up for the debarkation process. “Next time we’ll float aboard the Queen Mary II,” Polly said as she looked around for anything she may have neglected to pack. She spied a candy dish of chocolate mints and handed it to Placenta who slipped the candy and the dish into a side pocket of her suitcase. “Did you get all the soaps and shampoos?” Polly asked.

  “Yes, and the extra complimentary bottles of champagne, too.”

  Polly took a last look at her beautiful stateroom, then made her way out the door and down the corridor. She was followed by Tim and Placenta, both of whom wheeled Polly’s luggage as well as their own. “Where are the fans when you need ‘em?” Placenta griped.

  When they finally arrived on the main deck, Polly, Tim, and Placenta merged into a tributary of other passengers moving toward the exit at the speed of a clogged sink. As Placenta watched those disembarking ahead of them, she saw that all Kool Krooz Swelltime Passes were being collected. She reached into her purse to find Polly’s Zip ‘n Sip liquor card too. When the trio’s cards were scanned and their departure confirmed, they stepped off the ship. They walked a bit unsteadily at first, finding their land legs, then moved down the gangway and descended via escalator into the cruise ship terminal and into yet another queue. There, Homeland Security guards were checking passports and transfer documents.

  Suddenly, Polly’s eyes automatically locked on the open double doors in the distance and she excitedly took a deep intake of breath. She eagerly called out to Tim and Placenta, and everyone else, “My Randy’s here! He’s come all the way from Beverly Hills, California, to lipstick-smudged pit bulls in Alaska, to surprise me!” With her eyes trained on her attractive boyfriend who was standing outside with a bouquet of cellophane-wrapped flowers, Polly waved wildly and slipped out of line. She pushed past other passengers and uniformed Homeland Security guards.

  Polly was deaf to all but the affectionate sounds she was imagining she would soon hear from Randy, until she was abruptly sidelined by four Homeland Security officers blowing whistles and shouting her name. Polly was where she ordinarily preferred to be—the center of attention—but this time she was flummoxed by the commotion.

  “Yes, we’re well aware of your celebrity, Miss Pepper,” said one officious officer, in response to Polly’s look of surprise. “We’ve been assigned to drive you to police headquarters. There’s a matter of a murder.”

  “Not just any murder,” Polly insisted. “The murder of a dear and trusted friend of mine. A used-to-be, almost star.”

  As Polly was agreeing to fully cooperate, Randy showed his badge and identification to security at the entrance to the building and quickly rushed to Polly’s side. They gave each other a long tight hug before Randy stepped back, shook his head, smiled, and said, “Let me guess. You were minding your own business, casually sipping a flute of champagne and gazing at the stars in the sky, when a seagull suddenly dropped a body at your manicured toes.”

  Polly sniggered and gave him a playful shove. “You’re too silly. I don’t think seagulls fly at night. And only storks drop bodies. But I wish you could have been there with me!” Polly lamented. “You would have been proud of the way I did my research and how I finally figured out who the madman was.”

  “Aha! There was a murderer. And presumably a body, too!”

  Tim and Placenta exchanged smiles as they listened to Polly’s revisionist history of how, apparently, she alone had cleverly pieced together the clues to find the killer.

  “Not just any body!” Polly continued. “A semicelebrity body that soon will be more famous than when it was walking around making trouble for the living. Her head was missing.”

  “Hardly,” Placenta sassed.

  “Almost! And let me tell my story my way!”

  As Polly and her posse were escorted with much police fanfare toward the building’s exit, Lawrence Deerfield stopped on his way out and gave Placenta a hug good-bye and handed her his business card. Then he turned to Polly and said, “You know I adore you, Miss Pepper, just like everyone else. But being accused of murder was the last thing I ever expected to happen in my lifetime. In lieu of court action, I’ll be writing to you for a letter of recommendation to secure a gig for me at the Pasadena Playhouse. You owe me big time.”

  “I hear you, Mr. Talented Piano Man,” Polly laughed, trying to pretend that Lawrence’s farewell was a private joke just between them.

&nbs
p; As Lawrence shook his head and stepped out of the terminal, Deena Howitzer and Cori Berman, their arms linked together, walked up to Polly. Deena gave the diva a peck on her cheek and said, “If it hadn’t been for all of your false accusations about who killed that bitch Laura C., darling Cori being among them, I might never have found the love of my midlife.” She turned to Cori and gave him a kiss on his lips. “He’s been remanded to my custody,” she cooed in a sultry whisper. “Remanded. Isn’t that the most seductive word you’ve ever heard?” Deena giggled and added, “We’ll work to get rid of that dopey charge of pilfering from the dead.”

  Cori, too, gave Polly a kiss on her cheek. “You never complimented me on my New England accent?” he said. “And Jeez, lady, you were right when you said you weren’t good at solving riddles. I gave you tons of clues about Dorian!”

  Polly looked at Cori. “You were my ghost?” Then she corrected herself. “I figured as much but had to hear it from your own lips. And you knew that Dorian was the killer because you overheard him talking to Laura on his cell phone.”

  “No. I was at the spa. With Talia. We finished our, um, treatment, and I was leaving when I saw a man enter the next room. I heard him swear and shout Laura’s name. He called her a double-crossing slut! Then I heard Laura yell something back. She clearly said, ‘Polly Pepper.’ I didn’t catch the rest and didn’t think any more about it until the next morning when I learned that Laura was dead and then saw the two of you together. I added things up and figured you might be at risk. I tried to warn you, but God, you’re so obstinate.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the captain what you saw?” Polly asked.

  “Because you were already doing a damn good job of casting aspersions. I decided I didn’t want to look as foolish as you.”

  Deena interrupted. “We have to file statements with the authorities, too, and my Cori will tell all. Mind if we join your police escort?”

  As the security team continued to lead Polly and her troupe toward the exit, two women approached. “Remember us? Rachel and Sarah? We wish we could say it was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Pepper, but the truth is that you burst our bubble. Celebrities do that at their own risk. If you’re Julie Andrews, we expect a nun. On the other hand, if you’re Jim Belushi, well, we probably don’t expect too much of him. But you’re Polly Pepper, and we’re very disappointed with your phony baloney act! You’re not the saint that Betty White is. We both hope to see you on Judge Judy!” Rachel said.

  Sarah added, “If I weren’t a member in good standing at The Church of the Righteous Sinners alumni, I’d tell you what I really think of someone who casts stones at moral and high-minded saintly people like me. You’re damn lucky that I’m a true Christian. Otherwise, I’d …”

  “You’d delete my name from your online prayer list?” Polly completed Sarah’s sentence. “Would you seriously deprive the millions of people who read those Web sites of thinking they were personally helping a show business legend?”

  Sarah made a face and held up her Bible. She babbled something unintelligible before moving away.

  “Tongues?” Tim asked.

  “Expletives in pig latin,” Placenta answered.

  “Give my regards to Pastor Deuteronomy, and the entire Righteous Sinners congregation,” Polly called back, as she finger-waved good-bye to the women. She cinched one arm into Randy’s and linked the other with one of the Homeland Security officers. “Wait’ll I tell you all about this appalling Kool Krooz and the nut jobs I’ve met this week,” she said to Randy and the security officers. “It’ll make a great chapter in my book!

  “Speaking of which”—she turned to one of the security officers—“please make a note that I’m writing my memoirs and need a copy of my police deposition for the chapter titled ‘A Body 4 Sail.’ God knows I don’t want The Smoking Gun or Oprah accusing me being another James Frey!”

  Outside, as they walked toward a convoy of police cruisers, they were accosted by a squadron of television news vans with cameras and microphone wielding reporters. Polly smiled and waved cheerfully. Despite the efforts of the four Homeland Security officers to keep her by their side, Polly broke away and nearly danced up to the journalists.

  “Sweetums,” she called out, “it’s sort of a common courtesy to the brave men and women in blue who earn their pay with our taxes, to not discuss details of a murder investigation. So let me just tell you all that despite the lovely and talented Laura Crawford being beheaded on this boat, I sold a shipload of the brand-new Polly Pepper Playhouse boxed set collector’s edition of DVDs. They’re available everywhere and I know your TV audiences will want to know that the dead actress who was aboard the Intacti is heavily featured on these discs. So get ‘em while she’s still hot. As a commodity, I mean. Of course the real Laura is pretty darn cold.”

  A reporter called out, “Polly! Are you going to jail?”

  Polly rolled her eyes. “For finding the deranged killer who murdered the delicious Laura Crawford and who nearly chopped me up into Kibbles ‘n Bits? No way, José. As a matter of fact, after I sign a statement, I’m going to a luxury hotel to have an intimate reunion with my sexy boyfriend. That’s him over there.” She pointed to Randy.

  “Polly!” Another voice called from among the reporters. “Is it true that your old costars Arnie Levin and Tommy Milkwood hired a hit man to kill Laura Crawford?”

  “Sweetums, that was twenty years ago!” Polly laughed. “This time it was Laura who got herself in trouble and couldn’t get out of it.”

  One of the Homeland Security officers rushed to Polly’s side and whispered in her ear.

  Polly blew kisses to the reporters and the crowd that had gathered and said, “I’m being told that I’ve said too much and I have to save the really juicy stories for my deposition. I suppose it’ll be available on the Internet by tonight. Feel free to quote me as often as you like. But pretty please, be kind to this living leged and use decent pictures. Ta, Sweetums!”

  “One last question, Polly!” an intrepid reporter called out. “What’s your next movie or TV gig? We miss you!”

  “Miss you more!” Polly shouted back. “Watch this space for some big news very soon. My agent is putting me up for the new Spielberg project.”

  “Sorry to hear it,” the reporter called back. “I guess we can look forward to reading your memoirs soon, too.”

  “Something great will come along for me, I assure you,” Polly trilled. “You know that Polly Pepper always lands in clover!”