Killer Knots

by Nancy J. Cohen

  Marla didn’t care to think about the implications of the museum’s gift shop manager being missing for more nefarious reasons than just getting caught up in shopping. Remembering the creepy look one of the men on shore had given Brianna, she shuddered. That wasn’t a place where she’d want to be left behind. “Let me know what you find out, will you?”

  “Okey dokey.” Helen rose reluctantly, as though unsure what to do first.

  “Let’s get in line,” Marla said, gesturing toward the registration desk where people waited to hand in their bidding cards. She exchanged her card for a free seriolithograph.

  “Isn’t this lovely?” Helen said, pulling her eight-by-ten picture from the envelope. The colorful tropical scene, red beach chairs in front of a cabana overlooking a harbor with sailboats, was a work by Fanch Ledan called Volets Caraibes.

  “It’ll look nice on one of the walls in our new house,” Marla said, pleased with her acquisition. They’d all received the same signed picture, albeit with different numbers in the limited series.

  Helen pointed to Marla’s diamond engagement ring. “Are you getting married soon?”

  “We haven’t set a date. I’m a little nervous about taking the plunge for a second time.”

  A sad expression crossed Helen’s face. “I can relate. For a long time, I wasn’t ready to date anyone else.”

  “Are you divorced?”

  “Widowed. Bill had heart disease.”

  “I’m sorry.” They moved toward the exit, proceeding down the foyer steps and into the corridor. “Did your husband support the art museum when he was alive?”

  “Sure, that’s how I got involved with the docent program. I love learning about art and wish I had the money for my own collection, but I have to be grateful Bill left me enough so I don’t have to work. My volunteer activities keep me quite busy.” She brushed a speck of lint off her slacks.

  “Where were you—” Marla began, intending to ask about the night Alden Tusk died, but just then Helen spotted the Wolfsons.

  “Excuse me,” Helen interrupted, “but there’s Bob. Maybe he’ll come along to my cabin to see if I have any messages.”

  Hey, what about me? I offered to go to the purser’s desk with you. Watching her scurry away, Marla wondered why Helen would even approach the museum manager to accompany her. But when she saw the woman’s body language, another message came through loud and clear. Bob’s wife figured it out, because Sandy snatched his elbow and propelled him away.

  And to think I felt sorry for you, Marla said silently to Helen’s retreating back. You’re nothing more than a man-eater disguised as a lonely widow. Keep away from my guy, lady.

  “Hey, Marla,” Betsy said, poking her. “I guess none of us won the raffle again, huh?”

  “Nope. Some lucky devil walked off with three thousand dollars’ worth of art. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow night. I could’ve plotzed when they brought out those three mystery pictures. Didn’t you think they might be Alden’s?”

  “Too bad they weren’t. Eric is keeping us in suspense.” Betsy fell into step beside her.

  They descended the central stairs to deck five. Maybe Dalton and Brianna would be on the promenade. Glancing around, Marla sniffed beer fumes coming from the pub but didn’t spot Kate or John inside. Nor were any members from her party in the Cargo Cafe, shops, champagne bar, or Sailaway Lounge.

  “I think Oliver was mad that he lost the bid,” Betsy said. “Irene spoke to him at the last minute, and so he wasn’t paying attention when Eric called the final number.”

  Marla gave her companion a curious glance. “Speaking of Oliver, I saw him in town today talking to Martha Shore. Kent was there, too. Now Helen is concerned because no one has seen Martha since the ship cast off. Apparently, she was left behind, and we sailed without her.”

  Betsy’s eyes widened. “No shit? Poor gal. I wonder what she’ll do. Man, I wouldn’t want to be stranded in that port.”

  “Me neither. I’m hoping she’ll catch up with us in St. Thomas tomorrow if she can get a flight.”

  “You said it. I can see why Helen is worried.”

  Marla hoped to get voice mail from Helen later on saying the gift shop manager had turned up safe and sound on the island, but by the time she located Vail, enjoyed a drink with him in the fourteenth-floor lounge, and returned to their cabin, no one had left a message.

  “Do you think I should give Helen a call?” Marla asked Vail, as she removed her necklace. “She might have heard from Martha via e-mail.”

  “It’s late. I wouldn’t bother her until morning.” His gaze darkening, Vail watched her slip out of her dress. “In the meantime, I can think of a way to put your mind at ease.”

  “Oh, really?” Stepping closer, she stroked his chest with her finger while the air-conditioning cooled her underwear-clad body. “Show me.”

  Ding dong, ding dong. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to St. Thomas. This is the captain from the bridge….”

  Marla threw her mascara wand on the bathroom vanity when a knock sounded on their door. Feeling rushed because they’d woken late, she’d been hurrying to pack her bag for the day and put some finishing touches on her makeup. She heard Vail, who’d opened the door, greet someone in the hallway.

  “Marla,” he called, “there’s an officer here asking us about Martha Shore.”

  She reacted to his business like tone by scurrying out. A white uniformed man with a crew cut and clipboard stood there. He had a lean build, blond hair, and cold blue eyes.

  “So sorry to disturb you when you’re getting ready to debark, but I have to ask a few questions. Mrs. Helen Bryce has filed a missing person report on her roommate, who failed to return to the ship yesterday before we sailed.”

  “Are you with Security?” Marla asked, her heart sinking. This meant Martha must still be out of touch with everyone.

  “I’m Carl Jenkins from Guest Relations. Our manager has put me in charge of this investigation.” Wearing an earnest expression, he consulted his paper. “I have here that Ms. Shore was last seen shopping in San Juan by yourself, Kent Harwood, and Oliver Smernoff. Is this correct?”

  Marla gestured for him to enter, and then she sank down on the sofa. She noticed how Dalton shook his head in resignation. Hey, don’t blame me. At least this isn’t another murder…yet.

  “Dalton’s daughter was with me,” she told the officer before addressing Vail. “Did you see us talking to Martha and Oliver?”

  Pacing, Vail crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I was stuck in the jewelry store. By the time I came outside, you and Brie were down the street at the Guess outlet.”

  “Do you know where Ms. Shore was heading next?” Carl asked, scribbling notes.

  “Speak to the others. They talked to her after me.”

  “Did the lady say anything at all to indicate she might not be returning to the ship?”

  “No, she didn’t.” Clasping her hands, Marla examined a spot on the carpet. “Does this happen often that people don’t make it back on time?”

  “We get the occasional stragglers. We’ll give them about twenty minutes before we raise the gangplank. People get busy shopping or sightseeing, and they forget to watch the time. It’s costly for us to remain in port, so we can’t wait too long.”

  “Doesn’t your security team know right away if someone hasn’t come back? They swiped our cards when we left the ship. You should be able to confirm who’s missing.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We paged the lady on board just to make sure she didn’t slip through unnoticed.”

  “I was unaware she hadn’t shown up until I saw her roommate at the art auction last evening,” Marla said.

  She glanced at Vail who hovered near the door, clearly anxious to be on his way. Doubtless he wanted to avoid any investigative work while on vacation. So what if this didn’t concern them personally? She felt bad for the woman. Hopefully, Martha had kept her passport, but she’d still have to get a hotel r
oom, contact the airlines, and such. What a hassle.

  “Can you verify the passenger’s physical description, ma’am?” Carl asked. Gripping his pen, he regarded her with a level gaze.

  “She, um, sort of looked like me.”

  “Did you get in touch with the authorities in Puerto Rico?” Vail interrupted. Marla gave him a startled glance. He might not appear to be involved, but his mind must be running in detective mode. Force of habit, she thought with a smirk.

  “Yes, sir. They are conducting a search, but no one answering her description has come forward.” Carl returned his attention to Marla. “Can you tell me which areas on the ship Ms. Shore liked to frequent?”

  “I didn’t really know her that well. I ran into her on the bridge tour, and she seemed interested in the talk. Elsewhere? We didn’t come across her in any of the lounges. Maybe she liked to hang out in the casino. I don’t gamble, so I don’t spend time in there. Nor do I make use of the spa.”

  “Did the lady have any medical complaints?”

  “How would I know? I just said we were barely acquainted.” Her brain registered his words. “Oh, do you think she might have gotten sick on shore and sought medical help?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Will anybody check the hospitals? I mean, how awful to be stuck in a foreign place alone and to become ill.”

  “It’s being covered. Now, can you tell me who else Martha Shore associated with on the ship, besides her roommate and the other two people mentioned earlier?”

  Holding up her hand, Marla counted on her fingers. “Cliff Peters and Brooklyn Jones. They’re assigned to her table in the dining room. Along with Helen, plus the folks at our dinner table—they all work for an art museum in Tampa,” she told the officer. “Did Helen inform you that they received their tickets courtesy of an unknown benefactor? And how we’ve been getting private invitations to the art auctions on board?”

  “That’s not so unusual,” Carl said, “especially if these people work in the art field together.”

  “Someone on the ship’s crew must know about them,” Marla persisted. “Someone like the ship’s auctioneer, who previously had been employed as curator at the museum.”

  “He left the Tampa facility months ago,” Vail pointed out. “How would he have kept up with the employees and volunteers?”

  “Beats me, but someone brought them here for a reason.”

  Carl interjected, “Is there anyone else whom Ms. Shore associated with, to your knowledge?”

  Ignoring him, Marla addressed her fiancé. “Should I tell him about the note?”

  Vail shrugged. “Why not? But make it quick. We have to meet the tour group outside.” He tapped his watch for emphasis.

  At the last minute, they’d signed up for the excursion to Coral World after arguing whether they should do Blackbeard’s Castle, Magen’s Bay, or spend the entire time shopping. Dalton had balked at the latter, while Brianna had wanted to explore snorkeling. They’d finally compromised when Kate and John said they would like to visit the underwater observatory.

  Marla had saved the original note from their cabin door. She pulled it from her purse and unfolded the worn sheet of paper. “This was addressed to Martha, same as the private invitations to the auctions that I received. At first, I assumed my name had been spelled incorrectly, but when I met the other people from the museum, I realized I must’ve been getting messages meant for Martha.”

  “I see,” Carl said, taking the paper from her hand and scrutinizing it. “Any idea what this means?”

  “No clue. I haven’t really discussed this particular message with any of our tablemates, and I hesitated to bring it up to Martha. Those words could mean anything, but they sound sinister to me.”

  Especially since Martha has gone missing.

  CHAPTER 7

  Marla passed through the security gate toward Havensight Mall, where people congregated with their tour groups. St. Thomas had so many choices of things to do that in her opinion, it was easiest to do nothing and go shopping. But she had never been to the island and confessed to a curiosity about the mountainous wonder that awaited them. The harbor facing Charlotte Amalie was entrancing enough with sailboats bobbing in the water.

  She watched people depart for the snorkel excursion, helmet dive, jet boats, and Atlantis submarine. The crowd going on the Kon-Tiki raft were already into party mode, laughing and dancing their way behind the guide, a woman holding up a big sign. Marla could imagine their boisterous return after they sampled a few rum punches on the ride.

  Shading her face, she halted beside the group going to the Kayak Marine Sanctuary. “Do you see Brie or your folks anywhere?” She reached into her purse, rummaging for her sunglasses among the guidebooks she’d shoved in there before they left. She kept her key card pass in the zippered compartment along with her passport and traveler’s checks.

  “What a mob,” Vail complained, scanning the passengers milling about. “We should have just taken our own taxi.”

  “You’re probably right.” Vowing to buy a hat, she wiped the sweat already beading her brow.

  “It took me fifteen years of marriage,” said a guy to another man standing next to her, “but now I understand that when a woman says she’s going shopping, that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s buying.”

  “No kidding,” the other fellow said. “When my wife shops, she can’t make up her mind, so we go from store to store.”

  “Personally, I think it’s genetic.”

  Marla smiled to herself. She noticed both husbands carried large canvas shopping bags, no doubt prepared to escort their wives and pick up their own souvenirs.

  “Oh, there’s Brie,” Marla said, spotting the teen’s lavender Bebe shirt as she squeezed through the security gate in front of her grandparents. Shoveling her way through the crowd, Marla hugged the girl. “Hi, honey. We’ve missed you.”

  Kate beamed at her. “You look fresh and bright this morning.”

  “I’m excited about seeing the island. It’s such a beautiful place, with the town at the base of the mountains and the picturesque harbor.”

  “We need more than one day here,” Brianna stated, bouncing from foot to foot. “I’d love to go to the beach. Magen’s Bay is supposed to be one of the best. I don’t want to spend the whole afternoon shopping.”

  “But there’s so much to buy here!” Marla exclaimed. “Jewelry, liquor, linens, perfume, island coffees and rum balls. And next to AH Riise is a place that just sells David Yunnan.”

  “Oh yeah? Maybe they have the bracelet I want.”

  “You’ve been eager to see Coral World,” Vail reminded his daughter, patting her shoulder. “Don’t let Marla turn you into a shopping fiend.”

  “Too late for that,” John remarked in a dry tone. He stood beside his wife, tall and stalwart, with a bored expression. Straightening his glasses, he jerked his thumb at one of the buses. “Are we heading over or just standing here?”

  Once inside the bus, he took a seat next to a handsome older man while Marla and Kate sat next to each other, and Vail kept his daughter company. Marla heard the stranger introduce himself as an ex-seaman to John and soon they were chatting like old buddies. Peculiar, she thought. He opens up to someone he doesn’t know more than he does to us.

  “I’ll tell you a funny story,” the Navy guy said in a manner that reminded her of Wilda Cleaver, the psychic who’d inherited a salon from Marla’s dead rival. Wilda began her long-winded tales in a similar fashion, and Marla had heard enough of them to cringe when anybody said they had a story to tell. She got an earful of the man saying how he’d given a young midshipman a requisition for fallopian tubes in the days before there were women on ships, and how the crew had sent the poor sap around in circles until he’d ended up asking the captain for help.

  John responded with loud guffaws and started telling his own war stories, which she would’ve liked to hear, but Kate touched her arm and struck up a conversation. “Look out the
window, Marla. Isn’t this island beautiful? I’m so glad Dalton has you to share these adventures with him and Brie.”

  She met her future mother-in-law’s warm gaze. “I hope we’ll be able to do more traveling. I’ve hardly been anywhere.”

  “Dalton says you’re expanding your salon. Won’t that make you even busier?”

  Here comes the reprimand, she thought. Kate will inform me how being a good stepmother means staying home more. “Actually, once we get up and running, I’d like to cut back my hours. But I’ve put too much hard work and effort into establishing a name in the community to step away entirely. Besides, I really like working behind the chair. It’s just so gratifying when a client looks great and feels better about herself.”

  “Well, I really admire your skill and ambition. I couldn’t combine working and raising children myself, but things are different today. You’ll manage; you have lots of energy.”

  Marla’s mouth dropped open. “Thank you, Kate. I appreciate having your support. It isn’t always easy,” she said, thinking of the dressing-down she’d gotten from Vail’s former mother-in-law, Justine.

  “When you and Dalton are married, you’ll have to call me Mom. Unless that’s what you call your own mother?”

  She laughed. “Ma is going to like you. I’ll bet you have a lot in common.”

  “Yes. When am I going to meet her? We’ll have to coordinate our dresses for the wedding. Have you chosen a color scheme?”

  Her bright tone notwithstanding, Marla caught a hint of underlying anxiety in her tone. Surely she isn’t afraid I’ll change my mind?

  “Uh, not yet. Maybe something will strike me on this trip when we don’t have so many distractions.” Pointing out her window, she added, “Another McDonald’s? They’re everywhere.” Their bus chugged past a chain drugstore and gas station before turning onto the route to take them across the island.

  Her attention diverted to the winding ride through verdant hills colored by flaming-red royal poinciana trees, pink azaleas, green banana plants, and white oleanders, along with hibiscus, bougainvillea, and frangipani. As the bus rounded a hairpin curve, they were met by an ocean vista. She glimpsed dark and mysterious islands rising from the distant sea.