Brooklyn pointed a large finger at a nearby couple. “Ask them if they got the same deal. I’m gonna save us some seats.”
He sauntered off with Martha Shore, while Marla glanced at the pair he’d indicated. The guy was a hunk with a shock of black hair, deep-set eyes, and sculpted arms like a bodybuilder. He looked as though he’d be at home camping in the woods, unlike his companion. The lady’s refined gestures and redheaded elegance seemed more suited to hosting a soiree.
Betsy made the introductions. “Marla, this is Cliff Peters and Helen Bryce.”
Cliff gave Marla’s hand a hard squeeze, while Helen clutched her Gucci handbag and smiled. Betsy determined that the pair had received the same invitation to the art preview.
“What do you do at the museum?” Marla asked them, holding out her glass for a circulating waiter to refill.
“I’m head docent,” Helen explained, “and Cliff is chief of security. We’re so excited to be on the cruise.”
“Me, too.” Bustling activity at the other end of the room told her they needed to be seated soon. “I think we’d better go find our chairs,” Marla said, excusing herself. Signaling for Betsy to follow, she veered down the center aisle.
“Thank goodness your fiancé saved me a seat,” Betsy told her. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be near Thurston Stark. Have you noticed how he brags continually about all the trips he and Heidi have taken?”
Marla grinned. “He likes to sound important. Do you have much contact with him at work?”
“Not really. I’m the public relations specialist, so I work with Bob, who’s our business manager, and Olly, the director. Thurston is chairman of the foundation that supports the museum.”
Balancing her glass and handbag, Marla shuffled through a row of seats toward Dalton, whose bored expression made her feel guilty. She hadn’t even noted his parents leaving. In her eagerness to make new friends, she shouldn’t have neglected the main reason she came aboard: to spend time alone with him and his daughter.
Dropping onto the cushioned chair beside him, she nodded in gratitude. “Thanks for saving us the seats. Hopefully, this won’t take too long and we can join your parents.”
His lips curved in an understanding smile. “Mom is having fun in the casino. Don’t worry about her.”
“Man, are you lucky to find such a nice guy,” Betsy commented, tugging on her elbow. “I’m going to the singles mixer tonight, so maybe things won’t be so dull hereafter. Hello, what’s the matter with Olly? He looks as though he’s seen a ghost. Holy mackerel!” Betsy’s attention riveted on the man who’d just taken center stage. His boyish face and bow tie reminded Marla of Matthew Broderick in The Music Man.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” the man said. “I’m Eric Rand, your auctioneer, and I’m here to explain what you can expect this week at our auctions.” His eyes crinkled as he regarded the room packed with guests. “First thing you’ll want to do is register with that lovely lady at the table in the rear. She’ll assign you a numbered bid card. You’ll keep this same number at all the auctions. Just for attending, we’ll give you a free work of art at the end of each session, plus you’ll be eligible for raffles where we give away art worth several thousand dollars!”
He swept his arm in a wide gesture. “You can get an extra raffle ticket by signing up for our special collector’s card. The average credit is fifteen thousand dollars if you get approved, and you have thirteen months to clear your balance. That’s thirteen months of no interest and no payments! Use our money to start your collections, folks. What could be a better deal? Whoo-hoo!” He circled his fist in the air.
Marla pursed her lips. “They sure come up with creative ways to take your cash,” she muttered.
“No kidding.” Vail glanced at her, a pained expression on his face. “Can we leave now?”
“This shouldn’t take too much longer,” she said, hoping it was true. A waiter came around pouring more champagne. She held up her glass for a refill.
“All sales are final once the gavel comes down,” Eric continued, speaking into his headset microphone. “Since we’re independent contractors, we have to add a fifteen percent buyer’s premium. But don’t forget, you’re getting a hefty savings off retail prices. All our works come framed, matted, and shipped.”
He paused to answer questions from the audience. “We have sixteen hundred works of art to offer, folks, including originals from the classics: Picasso, Rembrandt, Dali, and Chagall, plus popular artists like Tomasz Rut, Kinkade, Tarkay, and Peter Max. We’ll even include a registered certificate of authenticity to go with your piece. Whoo-hoo!”
“Do we hold the card up to bid?” a guest shouted.
“That’s right. Occasionally we’ll have what we call mystery items. The picture will be turned around on the easel so you can’t see it, but if you’re interested, raise your bidding card. After people bid, we’ll show the piece. There’s no obligation if you don’t like it.”
His eyes narrowed as he examined the front-row warriors, where the Smernoffs, Wolfsons, and Starks sat. They shifted uncomfortably, as though he were beaming telepathic thoughts in their direction. Marla glanced at Betsy. She seemed transfixed, her eyes glued to the auctioneer. Did the museum people know Eric Rand?
“Appraisals are available and recommended for insurance purposes,” the auctioneer continued. “The first one is thirty-five dollars, with each subsequent appraisal fifteen dollars apiece.”
“Another way for them to make money,” Vail drawled.
“Each cruise, we offer a special collector’s portfolio.” Eric paused, his eyes sharp as lasers. “This week, we’re especially fortunate to have a rare collection of Alden Tusk’s signed suites for sale.”
Betsy stiffened. “Holy mackerel, he can’t be serious.”
Others in the audience murmured among themselves while Marla’s eyes widened.
“Bless my bones, I haven’t heard his name in a long time,” she muttered to Vail.
“Whose?”
“The artist.” She lowered her voice and leaned toward him so no one else could hear. “Remember those unsavory photos I’d posed for in order to earn money to pay the lawyers after Tammy died?” She flushed at his curt nod. “Well, that wasn’t my only modeling job, so to speak.”
“What do you mean?”
“I did a legit modeling stint when I was still taking ballet lessons, right before Stan and I got married. An artist came into the studio and wanted a subject for a series of portraits. He hired me, and I posed for several sessions in my leotard and tights. His name was Alden Tusk. I never heard from him again, but he’s popped up on the Internet now and then for winning awards. I’d love to find one of the paintings he did of me.”
Vail’s face brightened. Clearly, he’d expected a different sort of confession. “There’s no telling what might show up at the auction,” he said, patting her knee.
Eric’s booming voice drew her attention back to the podium. “Many of you may not know that Alden Tusk painted a series of three pictures known as a triptych,” he said, with a broad grin. “His series is complete, and it’s on board the ship. Let me tell you, folks, this is the opportunity of a lifetime! Tusk’s work has soared in value since his death. Whoo-hoo!”
Oliver Smernoff launched to his feet while Thurston twisted his head and raised his hand in a gesture to Cliff Peters. The rest of the museum crew looked astounded.
“How did you get Tusk’s triptych?” Oliver demanded. “It was last shown at our museum. It belongs to us!”
“Our buyers scour the world for interesting pieces,” Eric said, without acknowledging the question. Nor did he glance at the front-row occupants, focusing his gaze on those seated beyond. “We even commission some artists directly to produce work for our auctions. Last year, our company sold over three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of art. Don’t forget, these buys are tax and duty free. You’re getting a bargain, folks, not to mention a sound investment. You don’t want to leave
without owning one of these fabulous pieces.”
“Olly’s wrong,” Betsy mumbled, squeezing her handbag strap. “Alden’s set doesn’t belong to the museum. It was one of the works he’d donated for sale, before he, um, you know…”
“Before he what?” Marla asked, curious to learn what had happened to the artist.
“Sorry to cut this short,” Vail interrupted, “but we have to meet my parents in fifteen minutes at the Meridian Showroom.”
He rose, his meaningful glance making Marla remember her obligations. As soon as the last raffle number was called, she raced to join him in the rear of the room. First, she stopped to register for her bidding card and pick up her free picture, a signed seriograph by Picot. “I’ll see you around,” she mouthed, waving to Betsy from the exit.
Too bad she hadn’t had time to follow up on Betsy’s remark, Marla thought as Vail led her down three levels via the central atrium staircase. She’d enjoyed working for Alden, even for such a brief time. The young man had been an enigma to her back then, and now she wondered about the outcome of his career. She could always ask Betsy for more information tomorrow, or at the next art event.
Tempted to linger by the shops, she gazed wistfully at displays of gold neck chains, Puerto Rican rum, perfumes, and logo shirts. Time for that later. Trailing Vail into the theater, she halted inside the entrance, awed by the tiered red velvet seats and glittery gold stage curtain. State-of-the-art lighting and sound equipment escalated her anticipation for the show. She spotted Brianna and ushered Vail in his daughter’s direction. After stumbling her way through the row, she air kissed the teen. “Hi, honey, we’ve missed you. Did you meet any other kids?”
“Yeah, we’re gonna hang out at the pool together tomorrow and maybe meet in the disco after dinner.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Marla squeezed between Brianna and Vail, with Kate and John on Brianna’s other side. She felt the swaying motion of the ship and the engine vibration, more noticeable here than in the art gallery.
“We really appreciate you giving us this cruise,” she said, leaning over to address Kate. “It was very generous of you.”
The older woman smiled, lines crinkling beside her warm hazel eyes. “Consider it an engagement gift. We’re so thrilled you and Dalton are getting married. We just can’t wait to see your new house, too. From what he’s told us about you, I know you two will be happy. All we ask in return is that you treat our son right.”
Marla blinked. It was difficult for her to think of the stalwart detective as someone’s child. “I’ll do my best.”
“Brie told us how you’re teaching her to apply makeup and advising her on female issues.”
She cleared her throat. “I’ve had enough teenage clients share their concerns. I’m glad Brie feels she can turn to me. I hope I won’t disappoint her,” she said, patting the girl’s arm.
“She adores you.” Chuckling, Kate added, “Maybe you can help me with my hair this week. It flies away in this humidity.”
“I’d love to,” Marla said, surveying Kate’s wavy style. “If you wouldn’t mind, I could trim your ends, too. It’ll give more bounce to your hair and cut down on those flyaways.”
“Super. How great is it to have a hairdresser in the family?” Kate said to the others, grinning broadly.
“She’s a smart business lady, Grandma,” Brianna remarked, pride in her tone. “You should see her salon. It’s the coolest place, but her new one will be even more awesome.”
“Oh yes, Dalton told me you’re planning to expand. I hope you’ll share your plans later.”
“I’d be delighted.” Marla smiled back. “And I hope you’ll advise me on what’s good to shop for in the ports.” She couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to Kate. How unlike Dalton’s former mother-in-law, who’d criticized her every move when she came to visit. Marla still didn’t know how Kate and John felt about their religious differences but hoped it wouldn’t be an issue between them.
“I want to buy you an item of jewelry,” Kate told her, “something to show you how happy we are over your betrothal. Let me know if you have a preference for white or yellow gold. It’ll give me an excuse to browse in the stores.”
John rolled his eyes. “As if she needs a reason.”
“Mom is a shopaholic at heart,” Vail explained with a grin. “That’s something you two have in common.”
“What about me?” Brianna said. “I want a David Yurman bracelet. All my friends have one.”
“Whoa, honey, that’s awfully expensive,” Marla said, touched by Kate’s offer. She’d have to look for a gift to give her prospective in-laws in return. She still couldn’t believe they’d accepted her so readily. How did they know she’d make a proper mother for Brianna when she wasn’t even sure of it herself? As for Brianna, it actually gave Marla more pleasure to shop for the teen than for her own needs. She’d get Brianna something special, too, a remembrance from the cruise.
“We should check the shore excursion list,” Vail suggested. “The tours might fill up early.”
“You’re right; we can look at the schedule after the show.”
As if on cue, the lights dimmed. The curtain parted after a brief musical prelude, and a guy in a flashy royal blue jacket strutted on stage.
“Howdy, folks. I’m David Whetstone, your cruise director.” His golden-boy looks would have gone over well in Hollywood. “Welcome to the Tropical Sun. I hope you’re all prepared for a fantastic week,” he said, with a wide grin. “Did you all enjoy your dinner?” A loud chorus responded with cheers. “We have award-winning chefs, and they’ll make sure you can’t resist their meals. You may come on board as passengers, but we’ll roll you off as cargo.”
When the laughter died down, he went on, “I need to caution you to pay attention to the signs around the ship. When you use the restroom, for example, you’d better heed the one that says to close the lid before you flush. Otherwise, you’ll find out the meaning of the word suction in a very unpleasant manner.”
More guffaws. “If you can’t find enough to do, we have a special double-feature movie tonight: Titanic and Poseidon.” Finishing his round of jokes, David introduced a Las Vegas-style musical review. Marla was surprised to see him among the singers. He had a pretty good voice, but then she supposed the requirements for entertainers were stringent. In particular, she enjoyed the glittering costumes with their elaborate headpieces, and the dance numbers. When the show finished, the cruise director returned to describe the next day’s activities.
With a smile on her lips, Marla shuffled toward the exit alongside the rest of her group. “Now what?” she asked Vail. “We could go dancing, listen to piano music, or try the karaoke.” With eight bars and lounges, they had almost too many choices. “Or we could check out the shops and the embarkation photos.”
“I’m going to the casino,” Kate stated. “John can mosey along with you, if you don’t mind.”
“Hell no, I’m turning in,” the big man said, rolling his shoulders. “It’s been a long day.” He peered at them from behind his spectacles. “You kids have a good time. Brie, you should come along. It’s past your bedtime.”
Brianna turned a pleading face to Marla. “Can I go see the shops with you? I didn’t get a chance earlier.”
Marla put her hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Sure, honey. I can walk you to your cabin afterward.” Then she asked the girl’s grandparents, “Would that be all right?”
“Hey, don’t I have a say in this? She’s my daughter.” Vail hunched his posture like a protective male bear.
“You’re coming along,” Marla told him. “Brie will be happy to point out all the things you can buy her.”
“Oh no, I’m letting her loose with the shopping demon.” His face took on a resigned expression. “Mom and Dad, help me out!”
John chuckled. “Get used to it, son. See you in the morning.”
“Be good to your fiancée, Dalton,” Kate advised after her husband had sauntere
d off. “Watch what she looks at in the stores. Then you’ll know what to get her for birthdays and anniversaries. Men have to learn how to be observant.” She winked at Marla before heading away to conquer the slot machines.
“I like your parents,” Marla told Dalton. Brianna walked beside her as they climbed two flights toward the indoor mall.
“They’re smitten with you. I told you they would be.”
Glowing with warmth, Marla led the way into the jewelry store on deck five, where she scanned the colored gems on display.
“It’s tax free if you buy the stones without a setting,” said a familiar voice from behind. Whirling around, Marla observed Sandy Wolfson at a counter showcasing watches.
“I’m not into fancy jewelry,” Marla admitted.
“Me neither, except I’ve always wanted pink sapphires. I’m tempted to get myself something on this trip. If I wait for Bob to buy me a gift, I’ll never get anything.”
“Which port do you recommend for shopping?” Marla asked, wondering if the woman always kvetched about her husband.
Sandy shifted her handbag, an inexpensive canvas tote. “Cozumel is great. We cruise there every year. Bob prefers the western Caribbean.”
“That’s good to know.” Glancing around to reassure herself that Brianna and Vail were occupied, Marla leaned inward. “I was surprised to see everyone from the museum at the art preview this evening. Did you receive a private invitation on your door?”
Sandy tilted her head. “Yeah, and I’m guessing our benefactor had the invitations sent to all of us.”
Marla’s pulse accelerated. “How so?”
“He booked us together, right? I’ll bet it was Thurston. He donates a lot of money to the museum.”
“Wouldn’t he just admit it? Mr. Stark doesn’t strike me as being the anonymous type.”
“That’s true, but then who else could it be?” Sandy’s mouth turned down. “They should have given Bob a raise instead. He works so hard and never gets a word of appreciation.”
Killer Knots Page 4