Quickly, I went around to the other side of the desk, and began to rummage through the drawers. But it was to no avail. If she did have Hannah’s phone, she wasn’t keeping it in her office.
I had just closed the top drawer of Beverly’s desk when I heard heavy footsteps hurrying toward the room. I stood up straight, resting one hand on Beverly’s shoulder as if to offer her support.
The door swung open, and both Cece’s and my love interests burst in, Ethan Lee at the front, with Dr. Ryan Wilson right behind him.
“Please step away,” said Dr. Wilson kindly, but in a tone that brooked no argument. I did as I was told, and he gently began to lay her onto the floor.
Ethan put an arm on my shoulder and guided me away from the desk. “What happened?”
I explained as best I could, that I really didn’t know, but that the pastry looked a little suspicious.
“Okay, I think we’ve got it from here.”
I nodded at him, understanding. It was time to make myself scarce.
“I’ll call you later and let you know how she is,” he said by way of farewell. Giving my shoulder a final squeeze, he then walked me to the door of Beverly’s office.
“Good luck,” I said to him with a tight smile.
He nodded back, and then closed the door behind me.
Chapter 17
I spent the next few hours doing my job, but my heart wasn’t really in it.
It was like my mind and body were in completely different places. But, dutifully, I wandered around the ship taking pictures of anything that looked interesting or cute, and uploading them.
The whole time I was thinking about Beverly, and what had happened to her. After the conversation I’d overheard the night before. If she truly had been poisoned, I only really had one suspect in mind for now.
Finally, after a lunch so tasteless I forgot what I had while I was still eating it, I got the call from Ethan. Technically it was the first phone call after our first date, but the topic of this one was unconventional to say the least.
I was outside on a small sun deck, and I had just started interviewing an exceedingly well-tanned lady of late-middle-age. The topic was the best places for sunbathing. The woman assured me she knew the best spots from daybreak to sunset, and the most effective oils to slather on to achieve the deepest and longest-lasting of tans.
“Just a moment,” I said to her. “I have a call from the first officer.”
The woman nodded and looked suitably impressed.
“Adrienne? She’s awake. Why don’t you come down and see what you make of what she has to say?”
“I’ll be right there.”
“I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to go,” I said.
Her face immediately began to fall. “Oh, I was just about to tell you about how I keep my skin this color through the winter.”
I actually was curious to hear the answer. Judging from the mahogany color she had achieved, I imagined it might involve a trip to the hardware store and some kind of wood-stain or lacquer.
“That sounds amazing. You’ll have to tell me soon. But this is kind of an emergency. Have a great day!” I gave her a wave and started to hurry away before she could trap me into any more conversation.
When I got to the sickbay, I was waved through from the reception area to the treatment and recovery rooms beyond. Beverly’s room was the only occupied one, and thanks to the light and sounds coming out of it, I found it immediately. When I arrived, Ethan Lee was sitting beside the bed on a visitor’s chair talking to a dozy looking Beverly.
She was in a hospital bed with crisp white sheets, one that’d been tilted and raised so that she could sit nearly upright. The room smelled strongly of disinfectant and I had to suppress a shudder; I hated the strong chemical smell that hospitals all seemed to possess. When I got there, Beverly looked pale, but otherwise okay. At least, as far as I could tell.
“Do you know what happened to you?” I asked as soon as I entered.
“Hi,” said Ethan to me.
“Oh yeah, hi, and hello Beverly.”
Ethan gave me a lopsided smile, impressed with my enthusiasm. Or perhaps amused by my lack of manners. I had previously helped him—or rather, I had basically solved it all on my own—a murder that had occurred on the last cruise. Naturally, I’d fallen straight back into my role of investigator this time.
“I know exactly what happened,” said Beverly, her voice raspy
“Okay, tell us slowly,” Ethan spoke very calmly.
“It was her. That woman. Meredith DeLuca.”
“How so? Could you go back and explain a little?” asked Ethan.
Beverly pushed herself up straighter in her bed and took a couple of deep breaths before she began to tell us her story.
“Last night we had an argument—”
“—about what?” Ethan interrupted.
Beverly bit her lower lip. Like she didn’t want to answer.
“I… I accused her of killing Hannah. I think she did, you know. Really.”
Ethan leaned forward on his chair, resting his hands on his knees, his eyebrows raised. “I see. Go on.”
“Anyway, we had an argument. This morning, she had a pastry sent down to my office. Our words had gotten heated, and this was supposed to be some kind of apology.”
Ethan and I were both nodding slowly. The story seemed to fit so far.
“It was a pastry made by Vince, supposedly. It was one of his specialties. An almond and frosting thing, a bit like a danish, but with chocolate cream inside.”
It sounded delicious to me, but I didn’t say out loud.
Beverly took in a deep breath. The small amount of talking she had done so far seemed to have exhausted her.
Her voice seemed to be losing a touch of its raspiness as her anger filled her with righteous energy.
“I ate a pastry. At least—I remember starting to eat it. I don’t know if I even finished it,” she said, looking up to the ceiling thoughtfully.
“You didn’t,” I said.
“I thought not. And, well, that’s it. She gave me that pastry, and now I’m here. She tried to kill me, just like she killed Hannah.”
Ethan let out a long, low whistle.
I needed Beverly to say something. I had some information that I hadn’t shared with Ethan yet, and I didn’t want to explain how I’d gotten a hold of it.
So I said, “What made you think that Meredith killed Hannah?”
“She sent her a message. On her phone. It said to stay away from Vince, or else. With exclamation marks. Lots of them.”
“Wow, that does sound incriminating. Do you still have Hannah’s phone?”
Beverly nodded. “It’s in my desk, in the top drawer. I’d go and get it for you, but… well.”
“Would you mind if I—I mean we—had a look at it?” I asked.
Ethan was nodding his head.
I hadn’t wanted to tell him that I’d overheard her conversation from the captain’s cabin the night before. That would’ve been awkward.
I also didn’t want to tell him that I’d already searched her desk. It had only been a quick look, anyway. I could have missed something.
“You should go there now,” Beverly said, seeming to regain some of her previous energy. “Otherwise Meredith may break in and try and take it! You have to watch out for her. That woman is dangerous.”
“Yes,” said Ethan grimly. “We’ll be needing to talk to her. Very, very soon.”
“Let’s go check for that phone,” I said.
“Thank you for coming to see me,” said Beverly, letting her eyes fall closed. “I think I need another little rest now. If that’s okay?”
“Of course. Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll make sure the ship runs smoothly while you’re in here. Take as long as you need to recover.”
Beverly’s eyes were still closed, and she was nodding to seemingly herself. “I’ll be back… soon.”
And with that, she promptly fell asleep.
�
��Shall we?” asked Ethan.
And so we did.
Chapter 18
We left Beverly to sleep in the sickbay and went up in a noisy service elevator to the deck with the cruise director’s office.
“How are you doing, Adrienne?” asked Ethan in the elevator.
“I’m great. Apart from all this,” I said spreading my palms.
He nodded. “Good. I was worried you might have something else on your mind, but I guess this is more than enough, right?”
“Yeah, definitely,” I said with a laugh and a nod. Had he really picked up on my preoccupation with the postcards I had received? He must be very observant if he had. The elevator dinged as we reached our floor, and the door slid open with a rattle.
“Actually, there was one thing,” I said.
We stopped in the hallway just outside the elevator. “What?”
“I didn’t want to mention it until it was confirmed, but maybe it won’t happen now anyway. Meredith offered me a job, working for her and Vince as their PR manager.”
He crossed his arms and looked at me. “Working for a celebrity chef could be a good career move, I suppose.” He didn’t look very happy while he was saying it. “Though if what Beverly is saying is true…”
I nodded. “Yeah. And even if she isn’t, you know,” I lowered my voice, “a killer,” I whispered, “she does seem a bit unstable.”
Ethan nodded in understanding. He’d seen Meredith in action almost as much as I had.
“Are you unhappy on the ship?”
I shook my head rapidly to dispel any notion that I was unhappy with the ship, or him. “Oh no! I’ve been really happy here. I’ve met so many interesting people, and the job’s a lot of fun. And I get to travel. It’s actually been like a dream come true, really.”
“Then why were you thinking of accepting her job offer?”
Good question. Why was I thinking that? I took a moment to consider. “Sometimes I feel like just working on social media stuff is pretty unfulfilling, you know? It’s just popcorn, microsecond entertainment for people who don’t really care. If I was working in PR though, for a pretty big name, I’d be helping to advance his career. I’d feel like I was really achieving something. At least, I think I would.”
“Right.” Ethan’s brow was furrowed while he thought about what I’d said. “I’m not actually a big social media person myself.”
This didn’t surprise me. Ethan wasn’t exactly the type to spend hours browsing through other people’s photos for little shots of endorphins.
“Is PR closer to journalism than what you’re doing now? Just asking—I don’t know, none of it’s really in my wheelhouse,” he said with a chuckle.
“I think so,” I said, suddenly less certain than I had been. “I mean, it can be.”
“You’ve got to do what’s best for you. But if you’re going to make the jump, make sure you’re sure.” He gazed into my eyes with his own deep brown ones. It made me feel more important than the thought of solving either the murder or the freshly attempted murder. I smiled up at him.
“Thanks. I will. Now come on, let’s see if we can get this phone.”
When we entered Beverly’s office, it looked much the same as before, though the pastry was now missing.
Ethan noticed me glancing around for it. “I had the pastry bagged up and put in the freezer. We’ll hand it over to the police to have it tested in a lab when we get back to port.”
“Good thinking.”
I waited by the door as Ethan went over to check the top drawer of the desk. I was pretty sure I knew what he was going to find: nothing. It was possible that I had missed the phone before, but I didn’t really think so. I had checked all the drawers, and even though I had been in a rush, I was quite certain I hadn’t missed anything.
He pulled it open, and rummaged around with his hands. After that, he opened each of the other drawers in turn, checking all of them.
“It’s not here.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to have to take Meredith in. I don’t suppose you know where she is…?”
“Actually, I do. Vince is leading a class called Perfect Pastry right about now, and I’d bet dollars to danishes that Meredith is going to be up on the stage, standing right beside him.”
“Yeah, the poor guy never seems to get a moment to himself, does he?” He paused, and looked up. “Though, actually, I guess he will now.”
That was true. I wondered how Vince would deal with his first taste of freedom in years, once Ethan had Meredith locked away. Would he be helpless without her? Or, as I suspected, would he try and enjoy his newfound freedom?
M eredith was indeed with Vince. He was at the front of the same converted conference room where he’d demonstrated the super-fast omelets. This time, Vince was demonstrating the fine art of mixing cool fats with flour to make the lightest, crispiest of pastries, while the audience stood by their own tables ready to follow along in the practical part of the demonstration.
Meredith was about a yard away from him, standing in her usual high heels and wearing another elegant Italian dress, arms folded as she scanned the guests constantly, looking for any signs of potential trouble.
Ethan motioned for Meredith to come to the back of the room. She saw us, but she just shook her head, turning her gaze back to the crowd. I didn’t like being ignored, and I suspected Ethan hated it even more than me.
“Come on.” Ethan nudged me and started to walk to Meredith with determined footsteps. He was almost marching.
I trailed behind him until we reached the front. Meredith was now holding a basket of pastries that she had tilted forward so that the whole crowd could admire them. These were ones that Vince had prepared earlier. They looked nearly identical to the ones that had been delivered to Beverly. Ethan saw this, nudged me again, and nodded his head toward the basket. I nodded back.
“Excuse me,” said Ethan in a low voice so as not to disturb the performance. “Could we have a word?”
Meredith glanced at me with a look of quizzical annoyance, as if asking me to get him to buzz off. I raised my palms at her to suggest it was out of my control. I had to tread a fine line here. In the event that Meredith was completely innocent, I didn’t want to ruin my chances at the job. But if she wasn’t…
“I’m afraid I must insist,” said Ethan more loudly than before. “Come with me now, please.”
Meredith gave him a contemptuous look. “I said no. Leave me be. I can spare a few moments more for you after this is over. You may visit my quarters at four o’clock.”
Ethan shook his head. He reached out, and before Meredith knew what he was doing, he had lifted the basket of pastries out of her hands and passed it to me. I clutched it against my chest with both arms, a slightly panicked look on my face.
“What is the meaning of this!?” Meredith’s jaw was quivering in outrage and her eyes glared daggers at Ethan.
“Come with me, now, please. We can do this the nice way or—”
“What’s going on? What’s happening?” said Vince, finally abandoning his demonstration. He walked toward us, his hands covered in wet pastry.
“I need to talk to your wife. This is a security matter, not a personal one. She needs to come with me right now.”
“I do not.”
“Maybe, dear, if he says—”
“Shut up!” she shouted at her husband. She turned to Ethan. “You shut up too!”
The audience gasped.
“Adrienne! Tell this bumbling idiot of an oaf to leave this event at once.”
Bumbling idiot? Ethan Lee? Oh no.
“I’m afraid this is completely out of my hands. He’s the head of security. If he says you have to go, then…” I shrugged my shoulders.
“This is outrageous! We’re never doing one of these cruises again! It doesn’t matter how much money you offer us! I have never been so insulted in all my life!”
Ethan listened to her patient
ly until she was done with her current rant.
“That may well be. Now, are you coming?”
I looked around and saw that every single guest in the room was staring at Meredith and Ethan. I think Meredith realized the same thing, and with a look of outrage firmly fixed to her face she started to walk toward the back of the room, shrugging off Ethan’s arm when he tried to hold hers. He didn’t force it.
“This is outrageous!” said Meredith, addressing the room. “I hope you can all see how Swan Cruises is treating its celebrities. I’m going to sue the pants off of them.”
“Woo!” shouted a guy near the back. He began to clap. No one else joined in and his enthusiastic appreciation for Meredith soon trailed off.
With every stomping footstep, Meredith expressed her outrage at what was going on as she reluctantly left with Ethan.
“And I’m afraid that’s the end of today’s demonstration,” said Vince to the crowd. They groaned in disappointment.
I set the basket of pastries down onto the counter.
“You can take one if you want,” Vince said to me.
“No thanks.”
It was time for me to make an exit too.
Chapter 19
I met Samantha and Cece at Hemingway’s beside the Lagoon Pool. We were almost never all off work at the same time during the daytime. But today, Vince’s schedule had been put on hold and Cece had finished her cleaning duties already.
I technically wasn’t done, but the beauty of my job was it could be done anywhere. As long as I snapped a few photos while we were together and shoved them out for the world to see, I’d be doing my job.
Samantha and Cece were already sitting at a bamboo table, and in front of them were colorful drinks with umbrellas and bendy straws poking out of them.
“Nothing like an afternoon off midweek, right?” said Sam with a grin.
I nodded back. “It is a Saturday though, by the way.”
Sam tilted her head at me. “Really? I guess it all runs together.”
It certainly did. We didn’t get days off during short cruises. We worked every day at sea, so there was no such thing as a weekend for us. Except for today.
Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries 02 - Cooks, Crooks and Cruises Page 10