“Did you find out anything about the man in the gallery?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. The captain has no record of anyone by the name of Wade Randall on his crew or working with the gallery, and he doesn’t fit the description of anyone who works there. The gallery is independently run, but they did a check, and they can’t explain what that man was doing there.”
Juliette sat up in her chair. “I’m getting a bad feeling about him.”
Jack’s walkie-talkie crackled.
“That was the captain. He wants to see us outside the gallery right away. Something’s come up.”
Chapter Ten
“They found him in the gallery storage room, covered in a tarp,” whispered the captain. “He’s been stabbed to death.”
Kate and Juliette exchanged glances. The church bells had tolled disaster.
“How long do you think he’s been there?” Jack asked.
“Well, we just set sail yesterday, but we’re going to need our doctor to get more definitive information. We’ll have a helicopter pick up the corpse. I want Kate and Juliette to look at the body and see if that’s the man they spoke to.”
Two officers escorted Kate and Juliette to the back room, where they unwrapped the tarp so the women could get a closer look at the body.
Juliette held her nose.
Kate stared at the corpse.
“T-that’s not him. He doesn’t look at all like Wade Randall or whoever the man we talked to really is. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Juliette grabbed Kate’s hand and led her out of the gallery.
“Kate,” Jack called frantically when he got a look at his wife’s pale face.
“She’s fine. She’ll be fine, Jack. I’ll look after her.”
“Murder seems to follow us wherever we go,” Kate said.
“Well, we are in the business of investigating murders.”
“Do you think the man we met did this?”
“I don’t think it was a coincidence. You could almost sense the evil emanating from the recesses of his mind.”
When Kate got to the restroom, she threw up in the toilet, then stood at the sink while she washed her face.
“Feeling better?” Juliette asked, handing her a paper towel to wipe her hands.
“I’m fine. It’s just seeing that body—”
“I think it was the combination of the body and the baby,” Juliette said.
“We’d better get back. Jack will be worried.”
The women walked back into the gallery, where Jack placed his hand on Kate’s shoulder. “Are you okay, honey?”
“I’m fine,” she assured Jack, looking up into eyes that reflected concern and love. “I would like to get another look at those fabulous paintings we saw last night,” Kate said, as she strode over to the alcove where she and Juliette had last seen the masterpieces.
“They’re gone.”
“What do you mean?” asked the captain.
“The paintings that man showed us. They’re gone.”
Kate walked up and down the gallery aisles, looking at the walls and the prints encased in plastic.
“They were here last night, an assortment of what I think—no, what I know, is stolen art,” Kate insisted. “Irreplaceable art.”
The captain brought to Kate a man she’d never seen before. “Katherine Crystal Hale, I’d like to introduce you to the shipboard gallery manager, Pierre Dumas.”
Kate stared at a plump but well-appointed gentleman who offered her his fleshy hand.
“Mrs. Hale, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Kate extended her hand. “And this is my mother, Juliette, um, Bradley.”
“Mrs. Bradley,” said Monsieur Pierre Dumas, inclining his head in greeting.
“Mrs. Hale says that she and her mother were speaking to an art auctioneer, who called himself Wade Randall, inside this gallery at around eight p.m. last evening. He showed them around, spoke to them about some artists, and said he was inventorying some paintings. The ladies got a look at those paintings, and from the description, they were of some import.”
“They were priceless pieces,” Kate interjected. “Rembrandts, Monets, a Matisse, a Vermeer, a Jan van Eyck, a Cezanne, even a van Gogh.”
Monsieur Dumas laughed heartily.
“Mrs. Hale, I think you must be mistaken. We don’t have the caliber of paintings you’re talking about anywhere in this gallery, not on our cruise ship. We do have beautiful lithographs in color, hand signed and numbered, and an archived Old Masters’ collection with original Picassos, Rembrandts, Matisses, Renoirs, Dalis, and Chagalls of impeccable provenance, as well as post-impressionists, at our U.S. gallery. But we don’t offer those on the cruises. However, I assure you we maintain the highest professional standards to give passengers a premier collecting experience. Our stateside pieces come directly from the estates of deceased artists or are purchased from reputable international auction companies. But to bring those aboard ship? The insurance alone would be cost-prohibitive.
“Although there are some upscale passengers aboard, none of them could even hope to afford paintings such as those,” Monsieur Dumas continued. “Ah, would I love to have even one of those works in our onboard gallery? Of course. Those priceless pieces remain locked up in our vault in the States.
“Most of our collection comes directly from living artists doing contemporary paintings of landscapes, places they’ve lived or visited. But our artists are primarily unknown—of a certain quality, yes, but not the equal of any of the masters you describe. The people who come to our auction here like the look of a painting that might suit the décor in their living room or dining room. They are gambling that one day, perhaps, these unknown artists will rise to the level of a Chagall and that their investment will be worth something. And that has certainly happened with many of our artists.
“We offer watercolors, giclées in color on canvas with hand embellishments, some oils on canvas. We try to demystify art by making it accessible to the passengers on cruise ship auctions. At best, we might have a Picasso print or lithograph, but for the most part, I’m afraid the level of the art we offer does not rise to the level of art auctioned off at a Christie’s or a Sotheby’s. We try to offer passengers something they can take home, a memento of their cruise, but no, the artworks you are talking about would never be sold on this ship.”
“But I saw them,” insisted Kate when she was finally able to interrupt the flow of Monsieur Dumas’ monologue. “Not only did they look authentic, but many I recognized as stolen from various museums around Europe.”
“And you would recognize these how?” asked Monsieur Dumas, raising his eyebrows in doubt.
Jack defended his wife. “Kate majored in art history at one of the finest colleges in the country. She’s worked in a gallery. She knows about art. Her family owns a number of paintings by the artists you spoke of.”
“My dear,” said Monsieur Dumas. “Let us have a look around my humble gallery, and you can see for yourself that you’re mistaken.”
Kate spewed a stream of fluent French, and Monsieur Dumas’s face colored.
“I certainly didn’t mean to be condescending, Mrs. Hale. “It’s just that what you say happened could not have happened, not here, not in my gallery.”
“Are you calling my mother and me liars?” Kate railed. “Because we know what we saw. So if you do not carry such pieces in your gallery, then that man brought them in here, perhaps to hide while the ship is in progress, and plans to offload them when we dock or to claim them later. Is it possible that he hid them in the same frames as some of your other paintings, which he will purchase and have shipped to his house?”
Now she had Monsieur Dumas’s undivided attention.
“What happens to the paintings once they leave here?” Kate demanded.
“They are sent to our facility in New York that acts as our distribution center servicing our cruise ship auctions. There the paintings are custom-framed and shippe
d worldwide to the buyers.”
“So couldn’t someone hide a masterpiece in the frame of one of your less spectacular paintings and have it ultimately shipped to his or her home?”
“I hadn’t considered that, but I will check that possibility immediately.”
The gallery manager went from painting to painting, checking the backs, undoing the frames, working furiously, on a mission to recheck his entire inventory.
“I will also see if anyone expressed an interest in a number of paintings to be finalized at auction next week,” he added.
“Meanwhile, Kate and Juliette, I want you to come up to Security and have a look at every passenger’s photo ID to see if you can help identify this mystery man,” said the captain. “No one, including me, can get aboard or off the ship without showing his ID.”
“Captain, I just had a thought. My wife and her mother are the only ones aboard who can identify this man. If he is the one responsible for killing the gallery employee, then we have a killer and a highly skilled art thief aboard this ship. I don’t think my wife or Mrs. Bradley is safe.”
“I have to agree with you,” acknowledged the captain. “We aren’t making a stop until we get to Bermuda. For the next few days, we’ll be at sea. You will need to keep the women close at all times unless I am with them. Meanwhile, I’ll have my security people gather some evidence. We’ll have to do a thorough search of the ship, to see where these masterpieces are being hidden, if they are indeed aboard ship. If we determine the cabin of the man in the gallery, we can search it while he’s out. If not, we’ll turn this ship upside down to find him. As you saw on our tour, there are hundreds of places a person or the paintings could be hidden, especially if he has an accomplice in the crew. I’m sure the killer must have been blindsided, caught in the act by this poor gallery employee, so he will have to come up with another plan to hide the paintings. We need to stay one step ahead of him. After the body is flown off the ship and returned to Barcelona, the medical examiner and proper authorities will see if we can get an ID of the killer from DNA or fingerprints that we can circulate to Interpol and the CIA.”
“What a shame the deceased discovered what Wade Randall was up to,” Juliette reasoned. “He paid the price with his life.”
“Kate, Juliette, why don’t you go with the captain to the security area and see if you can identify this passenger,” said Jack. He whispered to Will, “I don’t want either of them out of your sight for one minute.”
“Don’t worry, Juliette, I will protect you,” Will said, within earshot of the captain, kissing her cheek.
Juliette pursed her lips, trying not to react. It was almost a sweet kiss. Romantic. Protective. But there must be an underlying motive. There always was, with men like Will. He was just showing off to the captain, in front of witnesses. His tenderness toward her was anything but genuine. She was a psychic. Wouldn’t she know that? Or were her growing feelings toward Will blinding her to his motives? Would she ever learn to trust a man again?
Juliette, Kate, and Will took the elevator with the captain, down to the level where the security area was located. He led them over to some monitors and assigned a crew member to pull up pictures of everyone aboard ship, both crew and passengers.
“You can sit here and look through the photos and keep advancing until you think you have a hit. We will split the photos between the two of you. If Wade Randall or the man calling himself Wade Randall is on this ship, then he’s in this database, and we’ll find him.”
Chapter Eleven
Kate stood up from the desk, massaging her back. “I need a bathroom break. My bladder must be the size of a pea.”
“Pregnancy will do that to you,” Juliette whispered. “I’ll come with you.”
Will stood up from where he was sitting with the captain.
“Have you found something?”
“No,” Juliette said. “We’re taking a break.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“You can’t go where we’re going,” Juliette said, frowning at Will. “We’re going to the ladies’ room.”
“But Jack gave me strict instructions not to let you out of my sight.”
“I don’t think he meant that literally. We’ve been at this for hours. We need to stretch and powder our noses.”
Will came over to Juliette.
“Well, then, I’ll just wait outside the door.”
“Suit yourself.” She and Kate headed outside the security area toward the closest restroom. Will followed.
“That man is going to drive me insane,” said Juliette when they got inside.
“What’s he doing?”
“He’s hovering over me. And he tries to take liberties every chance he gets.”
Kate laughed. “I think he likes you, Juliette. After all, you two are married.”
“You think this is funny? I have to sleep with the man, well, not literally, but I have to wake up beside him every morning. And his hands are always in places they shouldn’t be.”
“Maybe he makes you uncomfortable because you like him?”
“I most certainly do not. He’s an oaf and a boor and we have nothing in common. He doesn’t know the proper way to treat a lady.”
“He’s pretty hot.”
Juliette sighed. “That’s what makes this so difficult. If he wasn’t so damned cute, with that sexy Southern accent, and all those muscles, and those infernal dimples… But his attentions are all an act he puts on. When we’re alone, he spends most of the time trying to get into my pants.”
Kate tried to smother another laugh.
“I hear you trying not to snicker in there. You are legitimately in love with your husband. I am just pretending.”
“It’s just that I don’t think this is a proper conversation to be having with my mother. Maybe you should just try relaxing and see what happens.”
“You mean you want me to actually sleep with him—for the good of the case?”
Kate came out of the stall and washed and dried her hands. “No, but try going along, and see how it makes you feel. Stop fighting him and take it from there. Let your guard down.”
“Last time I did that, I fell under the spell of an evil man.”
“But you’re much stronger now. And Chief Bradley is anything but evil. Besides, you’re a powerful psychic. Can’t you look into his mind and sense what he’s feeling?”
“Can you do that with Jack?”
“Well, no, I’ve never been able to.”
“It’s just as well.”
“Are you afraid of what you’ll find? Maybe he really does care for you.”
“And maybe he’s trying to take advantage. Because, I swear, if he paws me one more time, I’m going to turn him into a—”
Kate laughed. “Come on, you can’t really do that, can you?”
“I’m not a witch. But I could make him very uncomfortable in a number of delicious ways.”
Juliette smiled. “What kind of mischief are you planning, Mom?”
“It’s best you don’t know.”
The women linked arms, opened the door of the ladies’ room, and nearly knocked the Chief over.
“Was everything okay in there?” he asked.
“Do you want a detailed report?” Juliette asked, her eyes twinkling.
“I just meant I wanted to make sure nothing happened.”
“No art thieves or murderers lurking in the toilet, if that’s what you mean.”
“Juliette, you’re not taking your predicament seriously. You and your daughter are the only ones who can identify that man, and he knows that, and he is somewhere on this ship. If he killed once, he will kill again.”
Was that genuine concern in Will’s eyes? Or was she misreading him? He was walking ahead of them, which gave her a good view of his seriously fine backside and left her wondering what it would feel like to have her hands on him and his on her. Or what it might be like to have him inside of her.
Juliette dismissed her naugh
ty thoughts and sat down next to Kate again for another round of photo ID viewing. She doubted the man would be sloppy enough to show his true self in a passenger photo. The face of the man they had seen in the gallery was real. But she suspected he was smart enough to disguise his looks for the ID photo.
Will huddled with the captain, and then Jack came in, and the three men were deep in conversation. Jack looked over at Kate and smiled, and, sensing his presence, she looked up and returned the smile, her upturned lips an open invitation.
“I think the girls need a break,” said Jack. “They’ve been at it most of the night and all morning. Do you mind if we take them out on the deck to get a little sun?”
“No, we have more than enough coverage on the banking meetings. Nothing seems to be happening there. We’ll resume our watch this afternoon.”
Jack helped Kate up from her seat and kissed her forehead.
“You look tired, honey.”
“I’ve been staring at faces on a computer screen for an eternity.”
“Well, let’s take a break in the cabin, get your bathing suit, and then we’ll meet Will and Juliette out on deck. Maybe we’ll take a dip in the pool, grab some lunch.”
“That sounds blissful,” Kate sighed, hugging Jack.
“What was that for?”
“Oh, just because,” Kate said.
They rode up in the elevator with Will and Juliette. Will was restraining himself, making an obvious attempt to keep his distance from Juliette. Maybe he actually believed she could turn him into a—well, a frog or something worse—with her magical talents.
Jack opened the door of their suite, and they watched as Will and Juliette entered their cabin.
“Will’s got it bad for your mother.”
“Do you think?”
“I know. He told me so. She’s a lot of woman to handle, but Will is determined to wear her down.”
“If she doesn’t turn him into a frog first,” Kate said.
“You’re not serious.”
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