Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Box Set

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “Won’t the body resurface more quickly in this warm water?”

  “Yes, Jack. Captain Andrews will keep patrols up nonstop, even after dark, hoping to recover the body if we're not able to rescue the passenger. By morning, we should have support from Papeete to continue the search so we can move on."

  "I hope you can identify the passenger who's gone overboard. That might help us figure out who the third guy is who’s still roaming around on the ship somewhere,” Jack said.

  “That’s an awful thought, Jack, given he may have killed two men already. Aren’t there cameras nearby that can help identify him?” I asked.

  “Unfortunately, that’s more bad news. I had someone scan the footage collected in that area at the time the dispute took place, and the passenger went overboard. We got a great look at the dead man, but no clear view of the other two men. I don’t know if they knew where the camera was placed and avoided it on purpose or if they just lucked out. Mostly, it’s a blur of bad guys in dark clothes.”

  Gone was my easy-going guy who had swept into the suite less than an hour before those blood-curdling screams. “Are you concerned that this could be an act of terrorism?” Jack asked.

  My heart skipped a beat. It had crossed my mind when all the screaming began, but once that “man overboard” cry went out I’d let go of that fear. Now it was back.

  “That’s always an immediate concern these days when there’s trouble on board. Terrorism is the biggest nightmare for security in the industry. We’ve notified Homeland Security and have run the scenarios we’ve been trained to use to sort problems. This incident looks more like a falling out among thieves, Jack.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “A piece of jewelry was found at the scene.”

  “Well, that’s important. I’d like to review whatever information you’ve gathered about the thefts. As soon as you can, make a copy of Jake Nugent's photo on his passenger I.D. or driver's license. Maybe the eyewitness or one of the passengers who reported the stolen jewelry can tell us something about him.”

  “That’s a terrific idea, Jack,” I said. “If he was hanging out with the other two men, maybe someone saw them together and can help I.D. the other men.”

  “I can email those files to you right away. I have a laptop you can use if you don't have one, or I can send them to your cell phone. You’re also welcome to review the video footage from that fight on Deck 6. Maybe you’ll spot something we missed.” Bill bit his bottom lip. “This is an unbelievable mess. I’ve been in the business for almost twenty-five years. I’ve had to deal with shipboard crime lots of times but never anything like this. I want to get to the bottom of this quickly but without scaring the heck out of people. What do you suggest, Jack?”

  “I'll take you up on the offer of the laptop. Send me all the background you have on your investigation into the jewelry thefts, along with any information about Jake Nugent. Keep the public focus on the search and rescue efforts you’re making to locate the missing passenger. At this point, that’s the issue that’s going to arouse curiosity and concern—especially when your guests realize how this will impact their itinerary. If I’m clear about what you’ve said, we’re going to put into Bora Bora a day late and won’t stay long enough for passengers to go ashore. Not everyone is going to be happy about that. From the standpoint of a homicide investigation, that’s a break though. If passengers and crew remain on board, there’s less chance for our murderous thief to become a fugitive.”

  “If I could do it, I’d head back without making that stop in Bora Bora. Captain Andrews tells me it’s needed to restock water and other provisions for the return trip to Papeete. He’ll keep the stop short and will send as few crew members ashore as possible. I’ll post watches around the clock so no one can sneak off.”

  “In the meantime, Bill, I’ll do what I can to preserve evidence from the crime scene and keep my inquiry into Jake Nugent's death as discrete as I can. No matter how reassuring you try to be, hearing about a murder on board is going to trigger concerns about terrorism. All we need is to start a panic.”

  I tried not to imagine what that might mean in a confined space like a cruise ship. Jennifer, my best friend who runs a travel agency, had once told me about problems on board a cruise ship when an engine failed. In that case, Jennifer said the fear that the ship was going to sink had led to an ugly situation. I hadn't seen it, but cell phone footage that passengers had shared on Facebook and other social media sites was dreadful from the way Jennifer described it.

  “I suppose it’s good this all happened so early when most passengers were still in their staterooms, rather than milling about on Deck 6 or elsewhere,” I offered struggling to find a bright spot in the dismal situation.

  “When that alarm sounded, it set off a rush of activity from passengers. Mostly a flurry of phone calls and questions for cabin stewards who were nearby. Captain Andrews acted quickly to post staff on the upper deck to answer questions about the fact that a passenger had gone overboard. No one other than Wendy Cutler has come forward as a witness to that fight or the passenger going overboard.”

  “The first thing I need to do is have a look at the dead man, and I’d like to speak to the first responder. We want to take photos and collect evidence before it gets contaminated or deteriorates in the heat. Did you leave the jewelry where you found it?”

  “We haven’t touched a thing except to put up that tent around the area. A member of our security staff, Tom Reasoner, was the first to reach the scene since he happened to be on Deck 6 already. He was there in less than two minutes after David Engels called security about the fight on Deck 6 that coincided with the loss of that passenger. When Engels mentioned the possibility that an injured passenger might be in that location, I called for the ship’s doctor and ordered that tent then too. The ship’s doctor is there now taking photos. Dr. Maggie Hayward’s no coroner, but she did an internship or something like that during her medical training, so she understands how to collect and record necessary information. She checked the passenger for signs of life and pulled that I.D. card from his pocket so we could get a name and cabin number for him. She told me she wouldn’t move anything until you arrived.”

  “Excellent! Um, we’re going to need a morgue—someplace cool.”

  “No problem. Cruise ships are required to carry body bags and to have a morgue. Murders don’t often happen on board, but deaths do.” Jack and Bill chatted for another minute or two and agreed to meet in ten minutes at the scene of the crime with a couple of crew members who could help move the body.

  I could tell the wheels in Jack’s head were turning, trying to figure out how to make do without all the supports available to him in Orange County. Max had done the right thing to put Jack in charge, I thought as we said goodbye to Bill.

  “Get dressed, Georgie. You’re coming with me.”

  “I am? You want me to help out at the crime scene?” I was caught off guard by the suggestion. Part of me wanted to tag along and poke my nose into the murder and mayhem. On the other hand, I don't do well with dead bodies.

  “No, Dear. You’re part of my cover. A happy honeymoon couple out and about on one of the last days of their romantic South Sea Island cruise.”

  “I should have known I’d be a prop or a decoy. Do you want me to flash my legs to distract passers-by if they wander our way?” I lifted my skirt and pointed the toe of my slipper bending my leg like Claudette Colbert flagging down a passing car in It Happened One Night.

  “I have no doubt that would work like a charm. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’d prefer to keep those gams of yours under wraps like the rest of this investigation.”

  “Good luck. None of this will remain undercover for long. Once Mad Max arrives it’ll be game over, Detective.”

  “True. Your meddlesome boss is likely to beat us to Papeete, Georgie. Even if he uses the corporate jet and bypasses airport hassles, he can’t reduce the flight time by much, especial
ly if he stops and refuels along the way. That means many hours in the air once he files a flight plan and gets to the airport. I figure we’ve got 24 hours before Max Marley can have a Rumpelstiltskin tantrum on this ship or anywhere nearby.”

  “That’s not a lot of time to solve a murder—even for you. Maybe I should contact Max and try to head off that tantrum. I’ll appeal to the importance of keeping a cool head and low profile when we arrive in Papeete. If I can call forth Max the Guardian Angel of Marvelous Marley World and tap his concern about not blemishing his brand that might take precedence over his desire to punish the bearers of bad news.”

  “Go for it, Georgie,” Jack said handing me a cup of coffee and pouring himself another. “Knowing you, by the time he gets here he’ll believe the whole cool-head-low-profile approach was his idea in the first place. Getting updates from someone he trusts will help him feel more like he has control.”

  “One can only hope,” I said as I scarfed down that coffee and one of those delicious chocolate tarts. “What does one wear to a shipboard crime scene?” I wondered aloud.

  “I’d opt for comfort. We’ll make this as quick as we can, but it could take a while.”

  “Will do,” I said as I dashed into our bedroom and slipped into a pair of black, stretchy cropped pants and a red knit boatneck top. Finally, I combed my hair, and put on a bit of mascara and lip gloss.

  “Red is your color,” Jack said when I reemerged moments later. He smiled appreciatively. I’m not sure whether red was my color or his, but I’d added more of it to my wardrobe since I learned how much he liked to see me in it.

  “And so forgiving if you happen to have blood and gore on your itinerary. Just so you know it, I’m considering making gold or purple my new favorite color.”

  “No problem. You’d look just as ravishing in those colors, too.” Jack swept me into his arms and kissed me. I returned the favor. “Let’s go before I change my mind about getting involved in this cops and robbers mission,” he said, releasing me from that embrace.

  “Or before this honeymoon can get any more bizarre.” I glanced over my shoulder at the underwater scene on the opposite wall. The cats had figured out how to trigger the motion detectors, and the scene was flowing again. Little Ella was dashing back and forth, chasing after a school of brightly-colored fish. Miles’ head was moving rapidly as he tracked her motions, like a sports fan at a tennis match. “At least the cats are having a good time,” I said knowing full well the game afoot for us was not tennis.

  3 Passenger X

  “We’ve done a complete census, and we’re not missing a passenger, Sir,” the young man said as his gaze wandered to the tented area from which Jack and Bill had just emerged. When we first arrived on Deck 6, I had followed Jack in there, but I hadn't stayed long. The blood was more than I could handle. Besides, it was crowded. Tom Reasoner, waiting at the scene, had gone over what he found when he arrived at the site, and what he had done since then. He repeated much of the story Bill had told us in our suite, but this time with show and tell. Gruesome.

  Jack inspected the identification card Dr. Maggie Hayward had retrieved from Jake Nugent’s pocket. It was now in a small plastic bag. Dr. Hayward, who asked that we call her Maggie, had brought plastic bags with her from the infirmary along with latex gloves, tweezers, and a few other items. Jack slipped on a pair of those latex gloves and began to inspect the area.

  Bill took photos as Jack or Maggie pointed out one thing or another—including a bloody shoe print. Scrapes and scuff marks on the rail suggested there had been a scuffle before that passenger went overboard.

  “What’s that, Jack?” I had asked pointing to something snagged on an exposed edge of the rail.

  “I’m not sure,” Jack said as he had Bill take a photo before using a gloved hand to slip it into a plastic bag. He held it up. “It’s a piece of plastic, I think, Georgie.”

  “I have a magnifying examination lamp in the infirmary. We can take a closer look. At these, too,” Maggie said as she lifted two blond hairs from the body lying on the deck in a pool of blood. That’s when I began to feel the need to escape.

  “Can you get a picture of this, please, Bill?” Bill leaned in close and snapped a photo of a necklace partly hidden by the dead man's body. After Bill snapped a picture or two, Jack lifted the body a little and slid that necklace the rest of the way out of a pocket where it must have been before the man fell. Bill shot more pictures as Jack held aloft an elaborate piece of jewelry that combined braided gold with gems of various colors. As he slipped it into a plastic bag, I spoke up.

  “I’ve seen that necklace before,” I said.

  “Was it worn by a cool blond with shoulder length hair?” Jack asked.

  “If I can clear my head, I might be able to remember,” I replied. When I peered more closely, I got a better look at the necklace. Unfortunately, when Jack had lifted the body to pick up that necklace, I also got a better view of a savage wound that must have caused the man’s death. That’s when I had abandoned Jack and the others, leaving them in that little tent of horrors.

  “What I can tell you is that it’s a fake,” I said as I fled.

  As soon as I drew in a couple of deep breaths of sea air, my memory of that necklace came back to me. The woman wearing it was no blond. A sultry brunette with dark eyes set off by smoky eye makeup and wearing dark red lipstick. Men surrounded her as she stood in a lounge area waiting for the maître d’ to seat her for dinner. She spoke with great animation and apparent ease.

  Had that dead man been among them? I strained to recall the appearance of each of the men with her that evening. That scene in the tent still had me shook up. At this point, I couldn't even be sure I remembered how many men had been in that circle of admirers.

  I gave up and composed a message to Max. When I sent that message, I hoped the “angel Max” rather than the “devil Max” would be on the receiving end. My boss who avowed he possessed those two warring personas, was as chimerical as the fantasies spun by the entertainment conglomerate he had founded decades ago. In his 70s, Maximillian Marley showed no signs of relinquishing his leadership role anytime soon. While I was still pondering the fate of my text message to Max, a member of Bill’s security team showed up in his spiffy white uniform. That’s when we learned that we had a man overboard but not a single missing passenger.

  “What about the crew?” Jack asked after Adam delivered his message about the passenger census.

  “All present and accounted for, Sir.”

  “Thanks, Adam,” Bill said. That sounded like a dismissal to me, but Adam lingered scanning the deck, glancing side-to-side.

  “Sir, is this the point at which Passenger X went overboard?”

  “Passenger X?” I asked.

  “Yes. That’s how we’re referring to the missing passenger until we have a cabin number or name to use.”

  I scrutinized the young man who was shifting from one foot to another. Perhaps he was anxious about the missing person report he had just delivered to his boss, the Security Chief, Bill Tate. A missing passenger at sea was bad enough. Not being able to account for the person’s identity had to be much worse.

  Does he know more about all that has gone on here on Deck 6 than has been shared publicly? I wondered. Despite the hope to handle the homicide investigation discretely, it seemed unlikely that a murder could be kept from the crew, even if they could conceal such information from passengers. Is that what had him so antsy? There was one way to find out.

  “Adam, is there something bothering you?” I asked. He glanced at me and then his eyes flitted Jack’s way before settling on Bill’s face.

  “We had an incident near this spot the night before last. A steward broke up a confrontation and reported it as a dispute between passengers who’d had too much to drink.”

  “That’s good to know. Do you have a record of the passengers who were involved in the incident?” Jack asked.

  “We don’t have their names. The st
eward didn’t call security to the scene but filed an incident report later. The reason I remembered it now isn’t just that it happened near here, but one of the passengers the steward spoke to didn’t have a ship-issued identity card with him. He claimed he’d left it in his cabin. When he filed the report later, the steward made an offhand comment. Something like, ‘how did he get that drunk if he didn’t have his I.D. card with him at the bar?’ I assumed the guy fighting with him must have bought the drinks before they went at it. What if the guy without an I.D. card is Passenger X?”

  “Since he didn’t have I.D., did the steward include the passenger’s cabin number in the report?”

  “Yes, Bill. He also offered to escort the passenger back to his cabin, but he declined the offer of assistance. They seemed to have settled their differences, so the steward let it go at that point.”

  “Jack, if you can handle the investigation here, I think Adam and I should go check out the cabin this guy claimed was his. Maybe the incidents are unrelated. It’s also possible that it involved a disagreement between two of our three thieves. Maybe already fighting as their scheme unraveled. It's a shame that steward didn’t call security, though. We would have scanned the card for the passenger carrying an I.D. to confirm his identity. And, we would have insisted that the passenger without I.D. take us to his cabin to retrieve it.”

  “There’s another thing. Bill. I already checked the passenger manifest. The passenger occupying the stateroom with the number recorded on that incident report is a woman traveling alone. I’m guessing that drunken passenger was out of it or just picked a cabin at random hoping to get the steward off his back.”

  “The point of issuing those electronic I.D. cards is so that sort of thing can’t happen,” Bill said, sighing deeply. He ran a hand up the back of his neck. “Let’s go have a talk with the woman in that cabin.”