Killer Knots

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “I can’t wait to check out the music. How many bands do you think they have on board?” Oliver asked, looking at no one in particular.

  “Shipboard music doesn’t compare to your classical collection at home, Olly,” Irene said with a sniff.

  “So? That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it,” he replied, with a quelling look in her direction.

  “What about you?” Kent Harwood asked Bob Wolfson. “How did you get the week off?” Taking a toothpick from his shirt pocket, he picked his teeth, impervious to the opinions of others.

  Bob scratched his jaw. “I had the hours coming to me. If I got as much time off from work as I deserve, I’d take more vacations. With my luck, it’ll rain when we’re in port.”

  Dalton and I are the only ones who don’t belong here. Marla glanced at Vail, busy digging into his salad, and a wave of affection swept through her. Rarely did he have the luxury of relaxing and enjoying himself. But what a shame about his family. They’d have to catch up with Brianna and his folks later.

  “What do you do at the museum?” Thurston asked Kent. “I don’t recall running into you, not that I’m there that often. I’m involved with the foundation, you understand, not the day-today affairs.” Blink, blink.

  Kent gave him a sly glance. “I run an extermination business.” Finished with his toothpick, he dropped it in his bread plate.

  “Is that so? I respect that,” Thurston said in a snotty tone.

  “You should. I was called to flush out some palmetto bugs in the cafe. Did a mold inspection while I was there, too. You don’t want any problems to develop because of leaks, especially where humidity control is so important.”

  The waiter delivered their entrees and then offered to debone Marla’s duckling. She acquiesced, wishing she had the same service at home.

  “Where are you from?” Betsy asked, smacking her lips as she bit into a piece of steaming sole. “I am so going to have a great time this week. Gotta meet some guys, though. You two getting married soon?”

  Marla nearly choked on a piece of broccoli. “W-we haven’t set a date. As for where we’re from, we live in Palm Haven. It’s just west of Fort Lauderdale.”

  “No shit? I’m from Clearwater. So what’s it like having a live-in? My last boyfriend ditched me before we shacked up together.”

  “I have my own town house,” Marla replied. “This will be a second marriage for both of us. We’re getting ready to move into a new home together, but Dalton has a teenage daughter, so we’ve been taking things slowly.”

  “You’re from Palm Haven, eh?” Kent piped in. “What do you do there?” he asked Vail.

  “I’m in the law field,” Vail responded, meeting the man’s appraising glance. Marla knew he didn’t care to elaborate that he was a police officer.

  “You didn’t tell me you called an exterminator to the museum,” Sandy Wolfson chided her husband. “I could have used him at home. We still have that raccoon in the attic.”

  “Critter Control handles that type of problem,” Bob said, shoveling a piece of steak into his mouth.

  “Don’t give me that crap. It’s typical of you to put all your energy into work instead of our house maintenance.” Sandy’s eyes narrowed into slits. “How long ago did you hire this man?”

  “He’s been coming on a routine basis for a few months.”

  Thurston half rose from his chair. “Not since the, you know, that night—” He stopped when Heidi put a hand on his arm.

  “The waiter is coming around, dearest. Could you please ask him to refill our bread basket?” she said in her child like tone, batting her eyelashes.

  The big man either fell for her ploy or decided to drop the subject. He complied as though accustomed to fulfilling his wife’s wishes.

  Marla gazed at Kent curiously. “How can you tell if there’s a mold problem? I’m a hairdresser, and I’m about to move my salon to larger quarters. I never thought to check the new building for anything other than termites.”

  “Call in a certified inspector,” Kent replied. “Molds produce toxins that can be hazardous to people exposed to them. Sometimes you’ll see thread like white substances or black circles accompanied by a musty odor. The spores themselves are invisible and will land on any moist surface. They can make you pretty sick if you’re allergic.”

  “So what do you do during an inspection?”

  He chugged down a gulp of water. “I’ll take air samples and swabs. Mold is a living organism that needs moisture to survive. You have to be especially careful where you have leaks, flooding, and condensation.”

  Marla noticed how Bob Wolfson kept shooting furtive glances at Oliver Smernoff. Was she sensing an undercurrent of animosity there? And why did Kent strike her as being more educated than the average exterminator? Had he majored in entomology in college before opening his own company?

  “So Marla,” Oliver said, pointing at her like a teacher calling on a pupil—she noticed that he’d done a good job of cleaning his plate—“is this a vacation for you, or will you check out the salon while you’re on board?”

  “No way; I’m not going near the place. Dalton and I are just here to relax.” She leaned back while the busboy, a young lad whose name tag said he came from Romania, refilled their water glasses.

  “Hey listen, they’re playing Mozart’s string quartet number fourteen in the background,” Oliver told them.

  “We heard the greatest concert in Vienna,” Thurston boasted in his loud voice. “You’d have appreciated it, Olly. Europe has the most amazing opera houses. You should go to the Baths of Garacalla to see Aida. Fabulous experience.”

  Marla, feeling adrift, exchanged smiles with Betsy, who cracked her knuckles under the table. “I’ve been lucky to get this far, never mind to Europe. If I ever cut back my hours at the salon, I’ll do more traveling,” she told her new friend.

  As soon as she and Dalton finished dessert—he had Black Forest cake, and she’d ordered crème brulee—Marla scraped her chair back. The waiters hovered, whisking dishes off the table so as to reset the dining room before the next horde arrived.

  Maybe on another cruise, they’d ask for later seating so they wouldn’t be rushed. In this instance, though, she was glad to escape from her tablemates.

  “I need to go back to the cabin,” she told Dalton as she rose. “If you’ll excuse us,” she said to the others.

  “Mom said she’d save us seats at the show tonight if you don’t mind waiting for the ten-thirty performance. She wants to check out the casino first,” Vail said on their way upstairs.

  “That suits me fine. All the shops are open now, so we can take a look. I just need to freshen up.” The ship rocked underfoot, and she stumbled. Clutching the staircase railing, she realized they must be moving at a good clip. The swaying motion made her unsteady. She hadn’t noticed it in the dining room, possibly because they’d been closer to the water level.

  “I feel like I’m drunk,” Vail said, grinning as a swell made them fumble to the left.

  “It won’t be like this the entire trip, will it?” Her full stomach clenched as the next dip drove them starboard. “Maybe I should take one of those Bonine capsules.”

  Vail slapped her on the back. “Have a few more drinks; then you won’t notice.”

  Stopping on the next landing to catch her breath, she considered getting an exercise machine for their new home. “Did you think our dinner conversation was strange?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t listening.”

  “You were busy eating. I’m sorry about the mix-up in seating arrangements. Maybe the restaurant manager will straighten things out by tomorrow night.”

  “I hope so. He wasn’t much help this evening.”

  “Betsy seems nice. I don’t think we have much in common with the other people,” Marla offered.

  “They were fortunate to receive a free cruise ticket from an unknown donor.” He gave her an indulgent grin.

  The sexy curve of his mouth and the tender
ness in his eyes turned her thoughts in another direction. Hmm…making love while the ship swayed could be rather erotic.

  Placing one foot above the other on the carpeted stairway, she resumed the climb. Her thigh muscles felt the strain. She did too much standing in place at work and not enough aerobics.

  “They must have a rich patron who wants to remain anonymous. Art museums always get wealthy contributors.”

  “So what’s bothering you?” He ran a finger inside his neck collar, making her want to loosen his shirt for him.

  “For colleagues who work together, they seemed awfully uncomfortable with each other. If I didn’t know better, I’d say things were tense among them.”

  “Well, sweetcakes, you don’t know better, and if we’re lucky, we’ll be seated with my parents tomorrow evening.”

  When they reached deck eight, she couldn’t remember if their room was port or starboard. Glancing at the corridors branching on either side of the elevators facing them, she hesitated. “Which way?”

  “We’re on that side.” Vail let her cross in front of him.

  Marla brushed against his torso and figured they might have a good time in the cabin until they met his parents. But when she saw another envelope tucked into the seashell decoration by their door, she dismissed that notion. “It’s another message for Martha Shore,” she told Vail, her stomach sinking.

  “Open it,” he commanded.

  Inside their room, Marla ripped open the envelope and drew out a folded paper. Relief swept through her as she read the contents aloud while Vail shrugged out of his sports coat.

  Please join us at the fine art preview and Champagne Reception this evening at 9:00 P.M. in the gallery, Deck 7, forward. Don’t miss this unique opportunity to preview some of the works we will have for sale and enjoy a glass of complimentary champagne. Meet Eric, your lively Auctioneer, who will explain the auction process and tell you about our artists featured during the cruise. Bring this invitation, and collect two free raffle tickets for a chance to win a five-hundred-dollar framed work of art.

  “Sounds like fun,” she said. “Maybe we should go. We don’t have to meet your folks until after ten.”

  “I didn’t know you were an art enthusiast.” Loosening his tie, Vail approached her, his eyes gleaming with desire.

  “I’m not, but it’s a good chance to learn something new. Plus we might find a piece we like for our new house.”

  “That’s true, but wouldn’t you rather play a bit?” Rubbing his body against hers, he made his arousal known.

  She cast a surreptitious glance at her watch. They could either make it quick, or savor each other later. Despite her wish not to get caught up in planned activities, she couldn’t deny the feeling that they’d be missing an important event if they didn’t attend the auction.

  “We can relax after the show tonight. I didn’t notice invitations on anyone else’s door, although other guests probably received the flyer that was on our bed when we arrived. Maybe we received this special offer for a reason.”

  Speculation lit his gaze. “It’s possible,” he admitted. “All right, we’ll stop by and see what’s going on. Perhaps someone there can tell us why your name keeps being misspelled.”

  Her heart swelled with love. “Good idea. I knew I brought you along for a reason,” she said, giving him a brief kiss.

  Fifteen minutes later, Marla pushed open the door to the art gallery and entered a foyer that took her breath away. This looks like one of those European opera houses that Thurston mentioned. The plush red carpet, framed oil paintings, crystal chandelier, and curved staircase made her jaw drop in awe.

  “Sweet,” Vail remarked, with a cynical twist to his lips. He’s probably wondering how much they mark up the items for sale, Marla thought. Certainly no expenses were spared in decorating.

  Compelled to climb the stairs, she held on to a polished wood banister. At the top was a set of double mahogany doors. She entered the gallery proper, where rows of cushioned seats upholstered in red and gold faced forward. A bar took up a rear corner, with filled champagne glasses on its counter. Her nose detected a citrus fragrance while her mouth salivated for a glass of bubbly. Passengers milled about, chatting and sipping from fluted glassware. Paintings on easels lined the room, and more canvases were stacked against the walls.

  Someone bumped her elbow. “Marla, I’m so glad you came. Now I’ll have someone else here I know.” Betsy, the brunette from dinner, gave her a wide grin.

  “Oh, hi, Betsy. We got an invitation to the preview in our room, so we decided to attend. We’ve never been to an art auction before.” Vail meandered toward the bar, leaving them alone. She hadn’t thought about it, but if Betsy had received a free cruise ticket, she still could have come with a companion. “Pardon me for asking, but did you come on the cruise by yourself?”

  “Yep, none of my friends could take the time off.” Betsy giggled. “I’ve got my own cabin, even though I understand normally you have to pay extra for a single. Hello, there’s Kent. I suppose he’s in the same boat as I am. See, he isn’t wearing a wedding ring. Not that I care; I don’t think my parents would be happy if I hooked up with an exterminator.”

  “He must be interested in art to attend the preview.”

  Betsy poked her. “Maybe he came for the free champagne.”

  “It looks as though the rest of your colleagues had the same idea,” Marla noted, observing the familiar faces of their table-mates among the guests. She felt a vibration underfoot as the vessel steadied itself from a large swell.

  The doors burst open, and Kate and John strode inside. They spotted Marla at once and headed over. Dalton reached her at the same time as his parents.

  “Mom, I thought you were going to the casino. And where’s Brie?” He handed Marla a glass of champagne. She took a sip, enjoying the fizz as the cool liquid slid down her throat.

  “Brie went to the teen mixer in the disco. I read about this event in the newsletter and decided to stop by. We’ve been looking for a new picture for our family room. Hi, Marla. Do you have an interest in art?”

  “I don’t know much about it, so I’m here to learn. I’m sorry about the mix-up with our seats at dinner.”

  Kate patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll work things out. I hope your cabin is comfortable.”

  “Yes, it’s great, thanks.”

  Recognition dawned in Kate’s eyes as she glanced beyond Marla. “Oh, look. Some of the people we met in the dining room are here. I’ll introduce you.”

  She dragged over a young woman with a slender build and shoulder-length brown hair. “Marla and Dalton, I’d like you to meet one of my dinner companions. You won’t believe this, but her name is Martha Shore.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Martha Shore? What a coincidence. We even look a like.” Marla studied the woman, who could have stood in for a carbon copy of herself. Glossy mahogany hair, dark brown eyes, and a long neck above a well-endowed chest. Martha’s hair was even the same length as hers, tumbling onto her shoulders instead of curving inward at chin length. Was it a coincidence that Martha was seated at the same dining-room table as her prospective in-laws?

  “Your mother-in-law was telling me about you,” Martha said in a low contralto voice. “I gather there was a mix-up at dinner, but there’re too many of us to switch.” Martha twisted one of her dangling earrings.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We have three people from the museum at my table, and you’d only have two seats available at yours.”

  “You work at the same art museum in Tampa as the people at my table?” Marla said, blinking.

  “Sure do. I’m the gift shop manager.”

  No wonder the people at Marla’s table had given a start of recognition at her name. Someone at the cruise line must have confused her with Martha Shore and exchanged their dining-room assignments.

  “Hey, Martha,” said Betsy while Marla digested this notion, “you guys all got your cruise ticket
s as freebies too, right?”

  “Yep. I don’t know why everyone’s come to the art preview, though. Like the bug man over there. How can he afford to buy any of this stuff?”

  “Maybe he came to check out the chicks,” Vail cracked before moving off with his parents and leaving Marla with her newfound friends. “I’ll save you a seat,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Kent may have gotten the same invitation on his door as I did,” Marla suggested. “After all, who can pass up the chance to win a free raffle?”

  Betsy jabbed her. “You got a separate note? So did I. I wonder if the others in our group found one on their doors, too.”

  “What about the rest of these people? They’re not with the museum,” Marla replied.

  “Hello, probably everyone got that flyer on their bed. Plus the preview is listed in the newsletter. The only difference is that we get two extra raffle tickets when we register. Let’s ask Brooklyn if he got the same invitation.” She led them over to a large man with mocha skin. “Marla, this is Brooklyn Jones. He’s in charge of the museum cafe.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Brooklyn’s ready grin accompanied his deep, rumbling chuckle.

  “Nice shirt,” Marla said, admiring the tropical rum drinks depicted on his colorful top.

  “Thanks. You that gal at the other table? Your boyfriend came around during dinner.”

  Marla’s shoulders tensed. These continual references to the seating snafu were getting tedious. “We were wondering if you’d received a private invitation to the art preview?”

  “Sure, didn’t you?”

  “I think I’m receiving messages meant for Martha here.” Marla noticed how Martha stiffened. “Someone must have mixed up our names. That could be how Dalton and I ended up at the wrong dinner table.”

  “You may be right,” Betsy said, nodding. Her glossy brown hair, straight down her back, swished as she spoke. “Are you saying only people from the museum got this free raffle ticket offer, and you received Martha’s by mistake?”

  “Yes, and that means someone on the cruise staff knows the members of your group. But then again, if all your tickets were booked together, that makes sense.”