“Excuse me, I’ve been wanting to meet you. My name is Marla Shore, and I just love your outfits,” she gushed, hoping the woman bought her introductory remark. “Where do you shop?”
The countess’s smile erased years from her expression. “I am Veronique Delacroix,” she said with a pronounced accent. “This is my companion, Claude Rabaud.”
“Enchante” the gentleman said, bowing. He appeared as the perfect image of a gigolo keeping company with a wealthy older woman. From his amiable countenance, he didn’t mind the role.
“I shop in Paris,” Countess Delacroix replied. “It is still the best place, in my opinion, for high fashion.”
Wishing she had the money to spend on Parisian clothes, Marla cast an admiring glance at the older woman’s red and black tulle ensemble. The loose top and skirt flowed together with an outward flair.
“Those shoes are fabulous,” she said, staring at the heels of the woman’s shoes, crafted in a clear Lucite-type material. Their painted floral design matched a flower barrette in the countess’s coiffed blond hair.
“Merci. Now if you will pardon me—”
“Can we talk in private?” Marla said quickly. “I’d be honored if you’d join me for a drink in one of the lounges. I saw you in town today entering the guavaberry liquor store, and I have some questions about the proprietress.”
“Vraiment?” The countess turned to her companion. “Claude, I can catch up to you later, non?’
He caught the drift, nodded, and meandered off, jangling some coins in his pants pocket.
“All right,” the elder lady said, with a puzzled frown. “Madame Nadine is a friend of mine as well as a business acquaintance. I am curious as to why you are interested in her.”
“We’ll discuss it, but first I have to tell my fiance where we’re going. Come along and I’ll introduce you.”
After agreeing to meet Vail at the show, Marla led the countess to the Nautilus Lounge on deck four. Selecting a quiet corner away from the piano player, they settled at a small round table with a flickering oil lamp. The countess picked up the bar menu and studied the wine selections.
After they’d ordered their drinks, Marla leaned forward. “I saw you enter the emporium in port, but by the time I got there, you’d disappeared.”
The countess raised a penciled eyebrow. “You followed me?”
“Well, yes. I’d hoped to catch up to you. We have a mutual friend, Sandy Wolfson. She’d mentioned your name,” Marla lied.
“Ah,” Countess Delacroix said, with a noncommittal shrug. “Then why do you ask about Nadine?”
“You weren’t in the shop when I entered. Madame Nadine gave me a sample of her liquor while I waited for you to return.”
“It warms your throat, non?”
“Actually, it tasted very strong, too strong for me. I had a bad reaction.”
“How unfortunate. You must be careful what you drink in the ports, although I have never known Madame Nadine’s customers to be displeased.”
“I’m sorry I missed you. Where did you go?”
“I used the restroom and left through a back door, after I heard customers come inside.”
“I wish you had still been there, because I could have used your help. After drinking the liquor, I passed out. When I woke up, I was locked in a strange house some distance away.”
“Indeed? That must have been truly frightening. Who brought you there, and for what purpose? And why are you telling me about this, mademoiselle?”
“Someone wants me out of the way,” Marla explained. “It relates to events that have transpired among my dinner companions. Sandy is one of the people involved. Did you just become friends on this cruise?”
“What concern is that of yours?” the countess snapped.
She related the whole megillah about Alden Tusk and the museum gang. “Now Martha is missing, Helen got pushed down the stairs, and someone detained me in St. Maarten. Naturally, I’m concerned. Who’s going to be next?”
The countess sighed. “I suppose I should explain. My business with Sandy Wolfson concerns vanilla beans. How much do you know about the industry?”
“Nothing, really.” Allowing her muscles to relax, Marla sank back against the cushioned seat. Fatigue ebbed into her limbs. She hadn’t rested enough after her ordeal.
“Then listen. Vanilla is the only edible fruit of the orchid family,” the countess began, tapping her long fingernail on the tabletop. “It is an extremely valuable crop. The plant stock is native to Mexico, but the beans are also grown in places like Indonesia, Madagascar, and Tahiti. Variations in soil and climate account for the differences in flavor.”
“I see. So what is your interest in this commodity?”
The countess tilted her head. “My family has been engaged in the industry for many years. Although we’ve expanded into Central America and the South Pacific, Mexico remains the primary location for our plantations. That is why it is so critical for us to obtain Bob Wolfson’s property.”
“Huh?” The waiter chose that moment to appear with their wineglasses, and his interruption was followed by a loudspeaker announcement. “You were saying something about Bob Wolf-son’s property?” Marla prompted after peace descended.
Sipping her French vintage wine, the noblewoman regarded Marla from across the table. “I have been talking to Sandy because her husband is too stubborn to sell his land. It is adjacent to one of our plantations.”
“He owns land in Mexico?” Glancing at her watch, Marla cursed under her breath. Twenty minutes until the show started. While she yearned to hear what the countess had to say, being with her family took priority.
“Can you believe the man had told his wife nothing about the real estate purchases he’s made during each of their yearly cruises?” her companion countered. “Mrs. Wolfson was totally in the dark. Mon dieu, I had no idea she was so ignorant when I approached her. It came as quite a shock to the poor woman.”
Marla struggled to focus. “So you want to buy a piece of property that Bob owns in Mexico? And his wife didn’t know anything about it? Why is he investing his money there?”
“Ah, you do not understand much, do you?”
You ‘re supposed to be enlightening me.
The countess paused, swirling the wine in her goblet. “The legend of the Totonacas began in blood, and so the goddess returns to extract her toll again. You see, Wolfson does not appreciate this valued heritage. He plans to build a resort when his holdings are large enough. Such sacrilege will despoil the land meant for growth. Tonoacayohua is offended. The goddess has infected the mortal’s colleagues with tendrils of evil in retribution for his selfish acts.”
“What legend are you talking about? What goddess?”
“It began in the Land of the Resplendent Moon. The ruler was blessed with a beautiful daughter, who dedicated her life to serve Tonoacayohua, the goddess of crops.
“One day while gathering flowers in the forest, the girl came upon a young prince. He fell in love with her and persuaded her to run away with him. The priests stopped them and beheaded the doomed couple. Their hearts, cut from their bodies, were given as an offering to Tonoacayohua.”
“That’s awful.”
“I am not finished. In the spot where their blood spilled, a bush grew. From the earth sprang a vine that twisted around the bush like a pair of lovers embracing. Orchids sprouted on the vine, and when the flowers died, slender green beans developed, releasing a powerful perfume. Thus, vanilla was born from the blood of a princess and thereafter offered as a tribute to the goddess.”
Marla took a moment to absorb her words. “Great story, but getting back to reality, let’s think about what happened to me in St. Maarten. I’ve concluded that someone drugged my drink. A man entered the shop after me, so it could have been him. The only other person would be your friend, Madame Nadine.”
“That is absurd. Nadine would have no reason to harm you. More likely it was that man who followed you inside. He co
uld have been an islander hired by…whoever wanted you to be delayed.”
Marla grabbed the check from the table and scribbled her signature. “Who do you think is responsible? Please tell me what you know,” Marla urged when the countess rose to leave.
“Ah. If we had the answer to your question, mademoiselle, the game would be over. That is the whole point of this voyage.”
More bewildered than ever, Marla hustled toward the theater. She had just enough time to sink into her saved seat and mutter a greeting to her relatives before the lights dimmed. Drat, she’d wanted to discuss the countess’s information with Vail. She hoped his detective brain could figure things out, but it would have to wait.
Turning her attention to the dance troupe on stage, she dropped her jaw. Holy hot rollers, their costumes didn’t leave much to the imagination. If this were a movie, their thongs and feathers would earn an R rating.
Mesmerized by the pounding music, flashing strobe lights, and glitzy numbers that followed, she forgot her concerns until they filed from the theater at the end.
“Did you learn anything from the countess?” Vail asked her in an undertone.
“I found out why she’s so interested in Sandy Wolfson, but she hinted at other things I don’t understand. We’ll talk about it later.”
“No fair,” Brianna chimed in. “I wanna get the scoop.”
Turning to the teen, Marla hugged the girl. “You’re on this cruise to have fun, honey. Have you been down to the photo gallery to see if the photos are up from St. Maarten? We could stop by there, and I want to see the silent-auction items at the lounge across from the atrium steps.”
“Do you really think Eric would show the triptych this openly? My guess is he’s saving it for a mystery item on the last night,” Vail said on their way past the lower entrance to the Pirate’s Grotto.
“You’re probably right. In the meantime, maybe I’ll find one of the pictures Alden painted of me,” she replied.
Splitting from her family at the martini bar, Marla wandered along, gazing at the paintings on display. Unfortunately, she didn’t find a single item of Tusk’s among the pieces displayed. Too bad; she’d have to wait for the next live auction.
Crossing to the photo gallery, she perused the racks of pictures. It was hard to find her group among the hundreds of people. Scanning the rows, she stopped at a picture of Cliff Peters and Kent Harwood among the tour bus crowd. Deep in discussion, they appeared oblivious to the turmoil surrounding them. Cliff’s posture was hunched while Kent smiled in a manner befitting a crocodile approaching its victim.
“Hey, Marla, we should buy this photo. You and Dad look great,” Brianna said, tugging on her elbow. She held up one of the shots from formal night.
“Okay, let’s add it to our collection. What else have you found?” Unable to resist several souvenir photos from their ports of call, more shipboard poses, plus an album bearing the cruise line’s logo, Marla ended up with a stack of items.
“Ninety-nine dollars and eighty cents?” she said to the cashier. “Holy highlights, these things add up fast.”
Kate ambled over and paid for a few of her own. “I always swear I’m not going to buy any more photos, but I do regardless.”
“We’ll enjoy them when we get home,” Brianna chimed in. “Hey, it’s time for me to meet my friends. I’ll catch you guys later. We’re going to the party on the pool deck.”
“Don’t be too late getting back to our cabin,” Kate called.
“Why not? We’re at sea tomorrow. I can sleep all morning.”
Marla’s brows drew together. “Your grandparents will worry if they wake up and you’re not there.”
“Where the heck else can I go?”
Vail glowered at her. “Don’t be rude, muffin. If Grandma tells you to be back by a certain time, I expect you to obey. You’re not old enough to stay out all night yet.”
“You just can’t accept that I’m growing up, Daddy.” With a sniff, Brianna turned away and bounded toward the elevators.
With that responsibility lifted, Marla turned to the elder couple. “So Dad, what’s this I hear about you being a fledgling artist? Being new to the art world myself, I have a lot to learn. It’s nice that you have someone like Irene on board to offer advice.”
“Marla says you’ve been spending time with that woman,” Kate snapped. “Perhaps more so than Oliver.”
“Have you noticed how they’re almost never together?” John responded, his voice laced with anger. “Irene keeps company more often with a drink in her hand than with her husband. I feel sorry for her.”
“Sorry?” Kate sneered. “That’s just your excuse to pester her. I wonder if she really thinks you’re such an art prodigy or if she’s using you as a male door prize.”
His complexion reddened to the extent Marla feared he’d have a stroke. “You don’t like my hobby. I have talent, and you won’t acknowledge it because that might make your stuff less important. Well, I’m retired now, and I’ll do what I want!”
Kate drew herself upright. “Fine. Enter all the art shows across the country. See if she’ll travel with you.”
Lifting her chin, she spun and stalked away.
CHAPTER 13
I’ve never seen Dad so upset, but then I haven’t lived at home for a number of years. Vail stretched his tall form onto a chaise lounge by the pool deck, where they’d gone to spy on Brianna. Well, not spy exactly. They’d only wanted to make sure she had found her group of friends.
It gave Marla a thrill to watch her almost stepdaughter gyrating on the dance floor. Brianna would give them anxiety attacks when she got older. Her spirited nature wouldn’t keep her at home and already she bristled at restraints.
Settling onto a lounger near a lamppost, Marla inhaled the salty night air. From their vantage point, she could see the dancers, but the steel-band music was pleasantly muted.
“Do you think Irene is using your father like your mom suggested? If Irene isn’t getting enough attention from Oliver, she could hope to make him jealous by flirting with another man.”
Vail scowled. He didn’t look at all relaxed, his shoulders tense and his head bent forward. Silver framed his temples. “I doubt that’s the case, especially if you saw them talking to an art dealer. Dad obviously hopes to gain an introduction to the art world from his connection to her.”
“So? She could be preying upon his interest. You know, hang around with me, darling, and I’ll set you up with the right people.”
“Dad is smart enough to recognize when he’s being taken for a ride. He’s a retired attorney, remember?”
“Following a dream can make you desperate.”
“Uh-uh, not Dad. He knows the score. Mom, on the other hand, would rather keep her eyes closed. I think his retirement has been really difficult for her.”
“Well, if he starts entering art competitions and winning, she’ll have to acknowledge his talent.”
“I’ll ask Dad about that dealer on St. Maarten. Maybe the guy wants to buy some of his work. It’s possible Dad sent a sample ahead, but that would mean he’s been in cahoots with Irene from the beginning. In other words, this cruise wasn’t the unexpected treat we’d been led to believe.”
She heard the hurt in his tone. “I’m sorry if things aren’t going smoothly for your parents. Their problems will iron out eventually. The best we can do is offer your dad encouragement. He and your mother will have to find common ground themselves.”
“It was a mistake to let Brianna stay in their cabin. She’s caught in the middle.”
“Your daughter is smarter than her years, Dalton. Don’t worry about her. Look what a great time she’s having.”
A waiter circulated in their direction, carrying a tray of green drinks that looked like frothy seawater. “Care for an Anchors Away, one of our specialty beverages? Only eight-ninety-five, and you get to keep the glass.”
“No, thanks,” Vail barked.
Judging from his harsh response,
changing the subject seemed a safe route. Marla didn’t want him to brood about his parents the entire trip. It might make him have second thoughts about their wedding.
“I need to tell you about my conversation with the countess,” she commented, brushing a tendril of hair off her face. “She said Bob Wolfson possesses land in Mexico, and her family, which is into vanilla plantations, has been trying to get him to sell. When he refused, she approached Sandy. Bob’s wife didn’t know anything about his real estate purchases there.”
“Is that the whole megillah?” Vail asked, grinning. He’d taken to learning Yiddish words to impress her clan at their recent family reunion.
“Not quite.” Marla shifted so she could see him clearer. Tiny white lights strung about the deck provided illumination, along with lamps. Relaxing with the ship’s swaying motion, she heard splashes from below as the bow cut through the swells. Then the steel band swung into a rendition of “Hot Hot Hot.”
“Countess Delacroix suggested it was the man who’d followed us inside the guavaberry shop who’d drugged my drink, and that he’d been hired by someone on the ship.”
“No shit. Like whom? Tell me, and I’ll go bust up the guy.”
“She didn’t know. The countess gave me some mumbo jumbo about a legendary goddess being offended by Bob’s sacrilege. Apparently, he wants to build a resort in Mexico when he has enough land. He buys more property during each annual cruise.”
Vail’s eyebrows raised. “Where do you think Bob gets the funds to invest?”
“Good question. Countess Delacroix claimed the goddess is getting retribution for Bob’s selfishness by infecting everyone from the museum with evil.”
“If Bob keeps buying more property, why can’t she beat him at his own game?”
Killer Knots Page 15