Death on the Wind

by M. J. Mandrake

  Chapter Ten

  “Delaying death is one of my favorite hobbies.”

  ― Rick Riordan

  “You will sit with us tonight, yes?” Jorge asked Kitty as they headed out of the Bingo room, but he was looking at Leander.

  “It’s my night off. I was just going to eat in one of the little cafes, so I could read. Something simple.” She had two dinners during the cruise where she was able to dine wherever she wanted, although she usually stayed with her tour group because the food was just as good and she didn’t mind their company.

  Leander looked uncomfortable. “I was going to ask if you would like to have dinner with me.”

  “Oh.” Kitty had a sudden flashback to high school when she’d been asked to prom by two boys in a matter of ten minutes. Her insides were floating, as if she’d stepped into a very fast elevator going down.

  Chica cocked her head and fixed her with a look as if to say, Now what are you going to do?

  “That would be nice, too,” she managed.

  Leander looked relieved.

  “Excelente,” Jorge said, clapping his hands. “That is solved. You will both eat with me. See you at seven.” He flashed his extra-white smile and left before they could say anything about it.

  “So…” Leander looked around to make sure they were alone. “Have you been able to ask anyone any questions yet?”

  Kitty’s floating feeling settled into something more solid. Of course there was a reason Leander had asked her to dinner. They were in the middle of a murder investigation, after all.

  “I talked to Ralph and Judy when we got back to the ship. I asked them about the article they’d seen in the magazine. Apparently, it was a gossip weekly that Judy likes to buy when she goes grocery shopping. There was a little picture of Heather with her friends. Ralph started visiting the gossip websites, looking for any mention of when the cruise would be.”

  “They didn’t keep it secret, then.” He gestured toward the stairs and they made their way toward the main deck. “You would think, as wealthy as she is, they would be more careful.”

  “Ralph said he thought Heather’s family would have twenty four hour security, but I guess they like to report to her parents and she wanted her privacy.” Kitty paused to let a group of teenagers walk by. “I can understand why she decided to leave the babysitters at home.”

  Leander shook his head. “So much of this simply doesn’t make sense. How did someone find Luis and pay him? It must have been arranged long before your group arrived that morning. The chief showed him pictures of the group and he picked out someone.” He’d dropped his voice as an older couple approached them.

  “He did?” Kitty couldn’t help the surprise in her tone. “Why didn’t they arrest him? Or her?”

  As soon they were alone again, he went on. “He identified the person who had given him the money as Heather herself.”

  “What? How?”

  “It was all done online. He showed the chief the messages. It said Heather wanted to commit suicide, but wanted her family to get the insurance money. They used Google translate. He doesn’t know how they found him, but since he’s had a few run-ins with the law related to the local gang, it wouldn’t have been too hard.”

  Kitty blew out a breath. “I assume her family is being interviewed.”

  “Yes. Of course they deny anything to do with an insurance scheme, and Heather didn’t have a very large policy. It seems more logical that the person who hired Luis just made that part up.”

  “So how did this shady guy get on the parasailing crew, anyway? They’ve always had great employees.”

  “The chief said that Luis took the place of an instructor who was sick. They brought him in for questioning and he said that Luis paid him a hundred dollars to stay home. Luis said he wanted to be Juan’s instructor, but Juan said Luis deliberately chose to go with Heather, and Juan simply assumed it was because Heather was pretty.”

  They started up the staircase on the far side and it was much emptier, as most of the pool-goers had headed back to their cabins to change for dinner. “I was thinking that, too. About something not adding up. I feel like I’m missing something obvious. Could it possibly be more than one person?”

  Leander shot her a glance. “Just what I was thinking,” he said in a low voice.

  She shivered. “I didn’t thank you yet for getting us back on the ship. I feel safer here.”

  “You’re welcome. And I think you still need to be careful. Obviously,” he added, looking sheepish. “I’m telling you what you already know.”

  Kitty smiled. It was nice to have someone worried about her, and not because they were worried about their schedule, or because they needed her to complain to the stewards about their sheets. “I don’t mind,” she said.

  He stopped and turned to her. Kitty could see the glitter of the late afternoon sun on the sea behind him and smell the coastal breeze mixed with the familiar scent of chlorine from the pool below. “You probably have to deal with this kind of thing all the time but…”

  “Murder? Only twice so far.”

  “No, I meant…” He waved a hand at himself. “I don’t want to be inappropriate, or make you uncomfortable. I know this is awful timing.”

  She felt her eyebrows go up. Inappropriate. That definitely sounded promising.

  He looked at his feet and Kitty realized that he really wasn’t much older than she was. “I’m not happy someone from your group died, but I am glad to see you again. If we lived closer to each other…”

  Kitty wished she had a better poker face. Her expression probably mirrored the one Chica had when Kitty waved a strip of steak under her nose. Clearing her throat, she said, “I actually don’t know where you live, exactly. And why didn’t you write back? I mean, it’s not a big deal. I know I tend to go on and on in letters.”

  He frowned. “I did. The last thing I had was a note and then there was nothing until I saw you today.”

  “Oh.” Kitty couldn’t help smiling. So her two page ramble hadn’t scared him away after all. “It wasn’t anything important. Just some little―” Chica pushed her toward Leander, and Kitty lost her balance, nearly landing in his arms.

  “Chica!” Her face went red. He probably thought she’d trained Chica to nudge her into a handsome man’s embrace. Turning, she put her hands on her hips and said, “Not okay. That’s―”

  Growling low in her throat, Chica threw her body weight against Kitty again, pushing her to the side, now narrowly missing Leander. At the same time, Kitty saw something metal flash by her and heard a dull thud as it hit the wall.

  Leander pushed past her and sprinted down the walkway, yelling, “Stop!” He dodged a couple with a stroller and two middle aged women, then disappeared around the corner.

  A large steak knife was buried in the wall. Kitty stood there, her brain struggling to catch up with her body, which had quickly registered the near-death missile and was now flooded with adrenaline. Chica’s fur was raised along her back and her teeth were still bared. A few passengers stared after Leander, then lost interest and went back to whatever they’d been doing. If there wasn’t blood or a fistfight, it didn’t merit any attention.

  She called out to a young, dark-haired crew member picking up towels. “Did you see anything? Did you see who threw that?”

  He frowned at her. “Threw?” His accent was very thick.

  “Someone threw a knife. Did you see them?”

  He shook his head.

  Kitty walked forward and stood in front of the knife. The handle was about the same level as her heart. Someone with very good aim had tried to kill her. Or Leander. She’d been standing in front of him, so the knife had more than likely been meant for her. And they’d been ordinary enough to escape notice until the very last minute.

  Looking back down the walkway, she felt a shiver of fear, wondering if Leander had caught whoever it was. Maybe he was locked in a life and death struggle at that very moment, and she was here gazing
at a knife stuck in a wall. She started to run, Chica quickly catching up to her.

  Just as she turned the corner, she nearly bowled Leander over backward. They managed to regain their balance and not go down together. He was breathing hard and his tie was askew.

  “Are you okay?” they asked each other at the same time.

  “I’m fine,” they both said together.

  He managed a smile.

  He knelt to give Chica a good rub around the ears. “You’re a great friend, you know that? You’re a good girl, Chica.”

  “Someone’s getting bacon for dinner,” Kitty said, trying her best to keep her tone light. If she hadn’t shoved Kitty into Leander, she’d have taken that knife in the back. “Did you see who it was?”

  “I never saw their face. About five-foot-ten, with a dark hoodie and black jeans. I looked up just before they went around the corner.” He gave Chica one last rub and stood up. “We could take Chica around, bringing her near everybody in the group and see how she reacts.”

  “She may not have seen anything.”

  Leander took her arm and they walked slowly back down the walkway toward the knife. “Why do you say that?”

  “It’ll sound ridiculous,” Kitty said.

  “Try me.”

  “She has this sort of sixth sense.” Kitty glanced at him to see if he was rolling his eyes. “She knows before the phone rings. She can tell when someone is coming to visit, long before they arrive. Those are the things I can’t explain. The others, I’m sure you can chalk up to her noticing little things we don’t. Gestures, expressions, the tone of someone’s voice.”

  “Doesn’t sound ridiculous.” They had arrived at the spot and gazing at the polished wooden handle and gleaming steel. The tip was buried a few inches deep.

  “I didn’t touch it. I thought maybe we could get it dusted it for prints. And I know I shouldn’t have left it but I thought you might need help.”

  Leander nodded, deep in thought. He walked around it, looking at it from all sides. “That was a good throw.”

  “Someone has good aim.” Kitty left her other questions unvoiced. Why her? Was it another assassin? How far would this circle of suspicion spread?

  “Strong, too.” Leander tapped the wall. “To go that far in…” His gaze flicked to Kitty and she felt a ghostly pain between her shoulder blades, as if the possibility was enough to cause her harm.

  He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call security so they can watch it while I get my kit.”

  “I can watch it,” Kitty said. It was nearly deserted now, and she had Chica.

  He made the call anyway, his eyes dark in the fading light. He told the guard who answered the phone that he needed to speak to the head of security. Somehow he wasn’t available, but they were assured that someone would be there quickly.

  When Leander was done, he put the phone back in his pocket and said, “I don’t think you should stay here alone. That was an attempt on your life. In fact, you should have someone stay with you tonight.”

  “You don’t mean during the night, of course.” She had a vision of him standing at her door in his suit and tie while she lounged on the bed in her oldest pajamas, trying to work her way through Moby Dick and eating Doritos.

  He looked uncomfortable. “Do you have someone who can spend the night with you?”

  “Sure. Chica.” She lifted her chin. “The door locks. I’ll be fine.”

  “Do you think that knife was smuggled on board?”

  “No. That looks like it’s from the kitchen.” It was a big one, too. Probably used for cutting roast or a turkey.

  “Then someone is able to come and go without much notice. They stole a butcher knife and didn’t get caught. You think they can’t steal a master key card?” His expression softened. “I get it. Nobody likes to be shadowed. But that’s how Heather died, by not allowing someone to protect her.”

  Kitty nodded slowly. “I― I don’t really know anybody except Jorge. Or Penny and Elaine.” Well, there was always Louise Derry but she’d rather tangle with the killer, honestly.

  “You don’t feel comfortable asking Jorge?” There was something in his voice, a careful neutrality.

  “I’d rather not.” An awkward moment passed. “Maybe one of the security guards?”

  Leander looked out at the sea, his jaw tense. He seemed to be trying to make a decision. “Okay, I’m just going to lay it out here.” He met her eyes. “I’m more than willing to keep you company tonight. I’m happy to sleep on the floor. Or you can ask a security guard to stand outside your door all night.”

  Kitty hated that her face was getting hot. They were two grown adults. She trusted him. She didn’t care what he thought about her pajamas or how she looked in the morning.

  Sighing, she had to admit that last bit was a complete lie. For the first time in years, she thought she’d met someone who just might… who maybe could be… And now he was going to see her at her worst. Running through the jungle in the middle of a hurricane, or being pulled from the surf with a half-gallon of sand in her hair was one thing. Seeing her stumble from her bed, yawning and scratching, bleary-eyed and grumpy, was quite another. It would be like looking twenty years into his future. Their budding romance would go down like the Hindenburg, a flaming spectacle of what could have been.

  “All right. I choose you. But don’t blame me for any residual nightmares,” she said, making a sad attempt at humor.

  He laughed and started to respond, but a security guard arrived in that moment, and they spent the next five minutes explaining the butcher knife in the wall. The guard shook his head, declared he wasn’t qualified to deal with the situation and called head of security, Jim McCallister. Leander politely refrained from pointing out that he had asked for the man not ten minutes ago.

  Jim McCallister was there in a matter of minutes. He listened to their story without interrupting, and then examined the knife without touching it. He was a retired police chief from a small town in Indiana who had decided a life aboard a cruise ship sounded like a great way to spend his retirement. His wife had taken a bit of convincing, but when she heard that the worst thing her husband had to contend with was a few drunks and maybe a fistfight or two, she had joined him. For the last five years they’d traveled the Gulf of Mexico, enjoying a luxury for free that most people paid thousands to experience for just a few days.

  “Are you headed to dinner?” Jim asked Kitty.

  “Yes, in a little while.”

  They decided the security officer would escort Kitty back to her cabin while Leander took prints from the knife.

  “I’ll come pick you up for dinner,” Leander said.

  Kitty agreed, but she still thought Chica was more than enough protection. Minutes later, she looked around at the luxury suite. There were perks associated with being a semi-official member of the crew. A nicer bed, a bigger balcony, a large screen TV, and an overstuffed couch. Kitty was glad she wasn’t the messy type or she’d have to spend the next hour tidying up.

  Stripping off her clothes and stepping into the hot shower, she thought of how long it had been since she’d prepared for a date. Of course, now the potentially romantic meal had morphed into a security escort and an overnight stake out.

  Kitty shut off the water and wrapped up in the soft, fluffy cruise ship robe. There were much worse things than getting to dress up and eat dinner with a handsome, intriguing embassy attaché who was nice to her dog. Like being stabbed in the back with a butcher knife. She was just going to think on the bright side of things and enjoy herself for once.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What is called a reason for living is also an excellent reason for dying.”

  ― Albert Camus

  Kitty was just putting the finishing touches on her make-up when there was a soft knock at the door. Despite her own pep talk about enjoying the moment and not having any expectations, her stomach still summersaulted at the sound.

  “Coming,” she called. Sm
oothing her hands over her simple black silk slip dress, she took one last look in the mirror. She’d put her hair up in a simple chignon with a few curls loose around her face. The smallest dab of perfume, and she was ready. Some guests went all out at the formal dinners, dressing in tuxedos or sequined gowns but Kitty put on a little make-up, a black dress, and called it good.

  Opening the door, she stared in confusion at the empty hallway. A strawberry margarita sat on the floor with a note tucked underneath. Her enthusiasm for the dinner rushed back in a single wave. How thoughtful of Leander to send her a drink.

  Picking it up, she flipped the note open. A treat for you and Chica.

  She didn’t think she’d mentioned that Chica had slurped up the rest of her margarita that morning, but she must have. Setting it on a low table in the cabin, Kitty went to find her clutch. She hated little purses because she felt unprepared without a book, but some evenings demanded the sacrifice.

  As she came back into the cabin, she found Chica in front of the margarita, nose almost in the glass.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Kitty snatched it up. “I don’t need any red dog barf on the carpet. Especially since we’ve got a visitor coming.” Suddenly, the idea of Leander coming back to her room after dinner made her mouth dry with nerves. Maybe she should have asked for the security officer.

  She leaned down to rub Chica’s ears and she barked, so close that Kitty experienced Chica’s breath like a hot wind.

  “No barking,” she said firmly. That was all she needed: a complaint from all her neighbors about Chica’s barking.

  Kitty wondered if Chica had developed her own addiction to the drink. “You can’t have any. And remind me to make an appointment with the vet for a dental cleaning. Yuck.” She set it on the dresser, out of Chica’s reach.

  Chica went to sit in front of it, but instead of facing the margarita, she faced Kitty. She growled low in her throat, a warning.