“Maggie says she has on a wig cap or a wig band or something like that. Her blond hair tucked up under it. She also had one blue eye and one brown one—courtesy of a contact lens that stayed put during that fight and her drowning.”
“Drowning? Are you saying she was still alive when she fell into the water?”
“Yes. Probably unconscious, if Maggie’s correct in her assessment of Abby’s condition. She’s only had time to do a preliminary examination of the body.”
“A wig and contact lenses have to mean she was in disguise, Jack. Why trade in the perfect cover for pilfering from the spa for drab ware?”
“I don't know. Maybe the thieves were on their way to a theft that required they dress more as stealthy cat burglars. Or Abby decided she liked being on the boys’ team better. Given it was so easy to lead them both on, why not join them?”
“But being a girl is what worked for her, Jack. Why give that up? Besides, Abby’s the one who was being led on by her teammates for them to have ganged up on her and shoved her overboard.”
“Given that Martin Santo took Jake Nugent out, too, I’d say he’s the ‘player’ among the men in that group.”
“If she was tossed overboard early yesterday, how did that strand of Abby’s hair get caught on the Velcro tab in Perroquet’s costume later in the day?”
“If Abby had been in Tina’s cabin earlier on this cruise, that hair could have been anywhere in there. We found more of Abby’s hair in her cabin last night, too.”
“Well, that’s odd, too, since stewards had cleaned her cabin before someone ripped that place apart,” I said.
“At the time, I just assumed Abby had been in that cabin along with the demolition team. The level of desperation makes more sense if they expected to find something in that room and it wasn’t there after they had already killed Abby Kinkaid and Jake Nugent. Who’s left to ask about the whereabouts of that necklace or whatever they were trying to find? Even though Abby wasn't there, it’s not too surprising strands of her hair turned up. Those hairs could have been in a drawer that was pulled out or on the mattress under the clean sheets. Who knows?”
“What about the blood, Jack? Is that Abby’s?”
“It’s hard to say at this point since we don't even have a blood type for any of the principle suspects. That’s for the FBI agents to figure out, along with all the other unanswered questions about this case.”
“Does that mean backup is on the way?”
“Yes, thank goodness! They should arrive in Bora Bora by helicopter when we do in the next hour or so. I’m not sure exactly when they left Tahiti. They could get there before us. Anyway, the sooner, the better. We’ve done about as much as we can with the resources at our disposal. Both Bill and Maggie have done wonders given the tools available to them and the fact that there are half a dozen investigations underway, not just one.”
“Two bodies in the morgue and that loser in the brig ought to make that immediately clear. I doubt even seasoned members of the FBI have encountered that too often on a cruise ship.”
“You’re right. Hopefully, there are enough clues in all the evidence stored down in the infirmary to nab the culprits, even if they manage to get off this cruise ship when we get back to Papeete tomorrow morning. That’s presuming we arrive in Bora Bora, take on the supplies the crew needs, and are underway again this afternoon as Captain Andrews plans.”
“I can’t get over the fact that our mysterious Passenger X turns out to be Abby. How come she didn’t get reported as missing when they did that passenger census?”
“Bill says she wasn’t in her cabin when they made the check, but a woman called in claiming to be Abby Kinkaid. A charge in Abby’s name turned up a few minutes later at a coffee shop, too. They used that kind of information to account for passengers who weren’t in their cabins.”
“Tina could have made that call. Martin Santo must have taken Abby’s keycard before he and Jake Nugent shoved her overboard. Clever to use it to make it look like she was still on board. How did he manage to get it from her?”
“We’ll have to ask him if we run into him. He’s a slippery devil. It’s good there aren’t as many holes in the hull of this ship as there are in accounting for passengers and crew members. We’d be underwater by now.”
“Abby must have turned both men against her if they were willing to work together to get rid of her,” I suggested.
“I doubt either man trusted her if they figured out she was playing them both for fools. Romantic triangles sometimes result in bloodshed, but there’s even more at stake here. An untrustworthy partner in crime can put you away for a long time. You’d be surprised how many criminal cases get solved because a jilted lover decides to turn in the guilty party, Georgie.”
“It still doesn’t make sense to me how that leads to murder. I suppose Abby's pals couldn’t just punish her by cutting her out of her share of their ill-gotten gains. That could make her more inclined to rat them out.”
“It’s hard for me to get into their kill-or-be-killed mindset. Abby must have become a liability somehow. Jake Nugent, too.”
“Not to mention there are fewer mouths to feed, as you put it earlier. Here’s another issue that’s bugging me about Martin Santo. Why was he wearing overshoes? If those shoes are standard-issue for members of the kitchen staff, maybe Martin Santo’s not a passenger but a crew member. I know Bill says his name doesn’t show up on the roster of employees, but that doesn’t mean he’s not there using another name.”
“I’m sure that photo of the man we’re calling Martin Santo has already circulated among the crew as well as passengers. I left a message for Bill to see if he can plaster the crew quarters with ‘wanted posters’ using pictures of all the known culprits. Even though he's done something like that on the electronic bulletin board already, I don't know how often crew members access that site.”
“I hear you,” I said, disheartened. “If our thieves are in disguise, maybe Martin Santo’s face is as big a lie as his name.” I wasn’t even dressed yet, and it was very early on Day 9 of our honeymoon. Still, I felt a wave of defeat engulf me.
“Georgie, my sweet, I’m a step ahead of you on that one. Heck, we didn’t even have the gender right when it came to searching for the missing passenger. I mentioned that to Bill, too, although I'm not sure what to do about it. Maybe he's had a brainstorm since I called him at 6:30 a.m. It's after seven, now."
"Oh, no, are you kidding me? No wonder I feel like I do. You know I don't do early mornings well, Jack."
"Get dressed, Georgie. I’ll see if Bill can meet us at The Captain’s Table and let us in there to do another search for your pendant. That way you won’t have to drag Gerard up there. Bill and I need to touch base about how to manage the handoff to the FBI. We need to speak to Captain Andrews about who’s going to provide an update to passengers, now that we're underway. Some of them may have noticed the flurry of activity at dawn.”
“It’s a good idea to prepare a brief statement, so everyone’s on the same page about how to respond to questions from passengers. I can put my PR experience to work and pull something together if that would help.” I could hear my phone ping me from the bedroom. I ran to get it.
“Oh no, that can’t be Max, can it?” Jack moaned as I hurried to check my messages. “Even he wouldn’t contact you before 8 a.m. on your honeymoon, would he?”
“False alarm, Jack. It’s not Max," I replied. "Carol texted me. She’s going to email me some information,” I said as I returned to the veranda.
“Carol? Why? What kind of information?”
“You’re not the only one who followed up on some loose ends after we got back to our cabin last night. Since you didn’t have anyone who could investigate Paolo’s background, I said I was going to ask her to do that, remember? He is a Marvelous Marley World associate, after all. True, in a roundabout way via the cruise line. Carol was more than happy to help when I asked her to check into his background. She didn't ev
en ask for details about why, although she already knew Max was on his way to Tahiti. The word is out—trouble in the South Seas.” Jack didn’t say a word but wore a skeptical expression.
“Oh, ye of little faith. Look at her message.” I handed him the phone as I dashed into the bathroom to shower and dress.
WOWZA! WHAT A HUNK. TOO BAD YOU CAN’T ALWAYS JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER. IT’S PAOLO VANNELLI—NOT VANNETTI—MORE COMING VIA EMAIL SOON. ONE PICTURE IS WORTH A 1000 WORDS. I'M SENDING SEVERAL.
16 Anagrams and Arrivals
The fresh morning air was invigorating as we strode purposefully up on deck. Well, as purposefully as you can with two cats on leashes. Miles had much more experience on the leash than did little Ella. More than once, I simply had to stoop down and pick her up. Sometimes her curiosity got the better of her, and she refused to move on. Another time or two, the five-month-old kitten became spooked, plopped down and covered her eyes.
“I guess she figures if she can’t see scary, it can’t see her,” Jack said, watching as I picked her up.
“I’ve been known to do something similar,” I retorted.
“Yes, not so different than that old ostrich head-in-the-sand strategy, is it? My parents used that for years trying not to see what they didn’t want to see among the less savory members of the Wheeler family.”
“That must be especially true with pretty boys like Paolo Vannelli. I can’t believe women fall for that hooey he doles out. I hope Carol gets that information to us soon. Maybe there will be enough to upgrade Paolo from a person of interest to a suspect by the time we catch up with the FBI,” I said.
“Using an assumed name on his visa and employment application ought to do that for starters—if that’s what Carol says he did. That message was a little too cryptic to be taken into evidence. I’ll have Bill pick Paolo up and question him once we get that information she’s sending you.”
“Are we the only two people on board this ship traveling under our real names? What do we pay people in Human Resources to do if they miss something like that with their background checks?”
“It’s more complicated when you’re trying to gather information from other countries. Many places don’t keep records in the same way we do. Some smaller locales don’t automate background information. That’s still true even in our data-obsessed world back in the states, Georgie. We could try out assumed names if you think that would be fun,” Jack raised his eyebrows a time or two.
“No thanks. There’s enough confusion about who’s who on this fantasy cruise as it is. Oh, Jack, look!” I said as I caught a breathtaking view of our destination. The ragged peaks of Bora Bora were larger now that we were closer to the island. More than a dark silhouette against a brilliant blue sky, they cast an almost mystical vision, as though drawing us to them. Those vivid green craggy points rising from an aqua sea were made more mysterious by a shroud of misty clouds that hung low about them.
“Sights like that make this whole trip worthwhile, despite all the trouble, don’t they?”
“They sure do, Jack. If we're only an hour away, that’s earlier than Captain Andrews planned to arrive, isn’t it?”
“Yes. He was going to wait until more vessels joined us this morning to take over the search. Apparently, Max made that arrangement so the MMW Fantasy of the Sea could move on without abandoning the search altogether, but that’s not necessary now,” Jack said, sighing deeply.
“That’s a good sign that Max is thinking rationally about the loss of a passenger.”
“True. Even bordering on the compassionate, although I’m sure your boss is primarily concerned about protecting Marvelous Marley World’s image.”
“No doubt. Recovering Abby’s body puts an end to any misgivings about giving up the search too soon. Another murder at sea and the fact that Passenger X turns out to be an XX and not an XY isn’t good news either.” Jack looked a little perplexed. “You know what I mean—two X chromosomes as in female rather than an X and a Y as in male…oh, never mind.”
“There will need to be clarification about the fact that the man overboard wasn’t a man after all. We’ll skip the discussion of chromosomes if that’s all right with you. The FBI can decide how much to say about the circumstances that make Abby's death a murder.” Jack stopped at the entrance to The Captain’s Table. He tried the handle, but the door was locked. Then he peered through the window.
“I’m sorry I mentioned it. Good luck explaining any of that in a way that's reassuring to passengers.”
“Someone’s in there, I think.” Jack knocked on the door. No one answered so he pounded louder.
“Hang on, Jack. I’ve got my keycard,” Bill said as he rushed up behind us. Jack was straining to see inside the restaurant.
“I could have sworn I saw movement in there.”
“Let’s go in and see.” Jack and Bill went through the entire restaurant and found no one. Even the kitchen was empty at this hour.
“You two ready for a treat and a nap?” I asked Miles once we were inside. I took his leash from Jack and led the two cats into a corner of the lounge area at the entrance to the restaurant. After a bit of sniffing and a couple of treats, they hopped up next to each other on a plush bench. Like perfect angels, they struck their Sphinx pose and sat perfectly still, side-by-side, staring at Jack and Bill as they began to move chairs away from the table where we had been seated the night before.
Just in case they got the itch to wander, I looped the end of their leashes around the foot of a heavy Captain’s chair near their bench. Then, I went to work, knowing I couldn’t count on their perfect angel routine to last for long.
We spent the next half hour searching the empty restaurant for my necklace. Bill had been thoughtful enough to bring latex gloves with him, so I could search the garbage bin in the women’s bathroom—just in case it had slipped off in there. Another first and certainly not an activity I had expected to do on my honeymoon.
Once I was satisfied that necklace wasn’t anywhere in the lavish restroom, I rejoined the men. They had begun taking items from the side tables and waiters’ stations, placing them on the long dining table after examining each object. I followed suit and pitched in. Not long after another wave of defeat had set in, Jack spoke, and Miles let out an ear-splitting call.
“Georgie, come here, please.” I rushed to his side. “Do you recognize that?” Jack dumped the contents of a small silver teapot into a gloved hand. My heart sank when I saw what he held. I looked over my shoulder at Miles. How does he know when something’s up? I wondered. No more Sphinxes. Miles and Ella were sitting straight up like a pair of porcelain figurines.
“That’s the clasp from my necklace, Jack, along with a bit of the chain. That clasp is unique and unmistakable.”
“A perfect hiding place for a talented thief. I’m almost sure I know who did it and when, too.”
“Who?” I asked.
“How?” Bill chimed in seconds later.
“To answer your question first, Georgie. It was the young man who poured our last round of coffee. When you came back from that visit to the restroom, he leaned in and offered to refill your cup, remember?"
"Yes. I know who you mean. I noticed the guy several times—especially when that blowhard was spewing bad puns. Our server tried to hide it, but he was annoyed."
"That's him. As for how, Bill, a touch on Georgie’s arm and a flourish with the tea towel draped over his arm must have been enough to distract us as he cut the necklace and slipped it off. I caught him eying you earlier in the evening, Georgie, but what man in that room wouldn’t have had his eye on you?”
“Not me, Jack. My necklace, if you’re right about him. It’s an audacious move to steal my pendant while I’m sitting next to the detective who happens to be investigating murder and thievery on this ship of fools.”
“I’m sure that’s the point. The bad guys figure they have us outsmarted. With the cruise coming to an end tomorrow, they must have an exit strategy i
n place.”
“Let’s round him up, Jack. Adam has the names of everyone on duty last night. If we pull them all together, you can pick him out of a lineup.”
“Good luck finding Matt Rosinna, even though his name is on the crew roster. He was long gone by the time Adam started frisking people.”
“What makes you say it was Matt Rosinna, Jack?” Bill asked. “There were a dozen names on the list last night in addition to the maître d’.”
“The name stands out in my memory now because it’s another anagram of Tina Marston—like Martin Santo.”
“No!” I exclaimed. “He’s a she, too?”
“Like Abby Kinkaid?” Bill inquired a split second later.
Before Jack could reply to either of us, my phone pinged. “It’s that info from Carol.”
I opened my email message and headed straight for the photos. There was a captioned picture of Paolo Vannelli—not Vannetti—in Vegas, not Tuscany. The newspaper photo showed him standing next to an imposing chocolate castle, holding a blue ribbon, and beaming his Pavarotti-style smile. Behind him and a little off to the side was Tina Marston, or whoever she was, since the caption didn’t mention her name. She wore a happy smile, too, along with kitchen whites.
“Aw, what a happy pair,” I commented, sarcastically, as I showed that photo to Bill and Jack. It took less than a minute for Jack to explain what Carol had discovered about Paolo’s alias. Bill was on the phone in an instant, barking orders to locate and take Paolo into custody.
“I’d say the pretty boy’s luck has just run out,” Jack muttered, putting an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t believe there’s anything more we can do for now. Once Bill has Paolo in custody, he might need to speak to us again.”
A bellow from Miles made it known that he was more than ready to go.
“We’re taking the kids home,” I said. “You know how to reach us, Bill.”
As soon as we were out on the deck, I took a deep breath. While we were inside, searching for my necklace, the ship had reached Pofai Bay. The dark blue color of the deep water where we would anchor stood out in contrast to the lighter color of the shallow water near a startlingly white beach. Beyond, I could see a marina and low-lying buildings that had to be Vaitape. The largest city on Bora Bora, half of the island’s ten thousand residents live there. Still, it’s a small town by comparison to most any standard.
Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Box Set Page 51