“It was nice seeing you too, Katherine.”
Jack watched Katherine walk out of the restaurant. He was tempted to follow her. He wanted to see Amy more than anything in the world, but he’d moved across the country to get her out of his heart and head. Knowing she was on board was bad enough. He silently cursed. Wasn’t it bad enough he had two murders to solve? He didn’t need this distraction.
***
When Katherine exited the restaurant, she was relieved to see Scott and Alex walking toward her. Amy was crossing the deck too. Katherine looked over her shoulder, glad that Jack hadn’t followed her out. She pretended to look at a watch that wasn’t on her wrist.
“Where have you been?” she asked Scott. “You were supposed to meet me here at two. And what’s wrong with him?” Alex had taken a seat on a nearby lounge chair, his head between his legs.
“Hungover,” answered Scott. “And the suite we used last night is a disaster area. The party is still going on up there.”
“Really?” said Katherine. “Wow.”
Scott laughed, then said, “Yeah, we saw Jason. Guess what he was wearing?”
Katherine smiled. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“A diaper!” Both Katherine and Amy laughed out loud. Amy had gone on a few dates with Jason before she’d started seeing Jack.
“I knew he was freaky,” she said.
“So what’s on the agenda?” asked Katherine.
Scott looked down at Alex, then back at Katherine. “Sorry, babe. I need to help Alex. Sophie has him checking on wedding stuff. Alex said she’s freaking out about the wedding. They’re going to have to have it early. Did you hear? Someone got hurt—ship’s probably going to be turned around.”
Katherine looked at Amy. “Yeah, we heard.”
Scott quickly kissed Katherine’s cheek. “Maybe we can all meet for dinner later,” he said, then he held out his hand. “Come on, Alex.” Alex reluctantly stood and allowed himself to be led away.
“Well what now?” asked Amy. Katherine wanted Amy as far away from the lido deck as possible. She wasn’t sure what would happen if Amy saw Jack, and he wouldn’t be in the restaurant forever.
“Shopping,” answered Katherine.
Chapter Fourteen
Sunday morning Jack woke with a stiff neck. He had two murders on his hand, a bakery thief who might also be a witness, and an attraction for a possible suspect. He took some aspirin for the headache that had begun behind his eyes, then stood. He changed into some swim shorts, grabbed a towel, and headed for the ship’s sauna.
He wasn’t supposed to use the sauna. It was for the guests, but that minor infraction was something he’d risk. He was too tightly wound to think straight. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went inside, the moist heat hitting him with a rush. At first he was the only one inside, but after a few minutes the door opened and someone else entered.
“Hello,” said Jack, but got no answer.
Whoever it was stopped walking when Jack said hello. He couldn’t see what the person looked like through the steam. For a sauna, the room was actually pretty big—probably so it could accommodate more people. Jack felt his guard going up as the person neared.
“Hello, Detective,” said a soft voice. Jack recognized as Marni Michaels.
“I watched you come in here. I hope you don’t mind, but I followed you.” Jack could just make out Marni’s form. He took a deep breath. See, this is why you don’t use the facilities meant for the paying customers, he thought. He imagined the next person to come in would be Frank, so that his discomfort could be complete.
Marni sat on the bench a few feet away. The steam had begun to clear up some and Jack worked to keep his eyes forward, rather than on her petite form in the petite swimsuit. He licked his lips, wondering how it was that even in a room filled with moisture, they were dry, though he knew the reason.
“Why did you follow me, Ms. Michaels?” he asked.
“Oh, I wanted to apologize. You know, for the way I acted earlier. I know you’re just doing your job.”
“No apology necessary.” Jack was startled to feel her hand on his leg. He watched, transfixed, as she gently squeezed his thigh. He stood.
“I’d better go, Ms. Michaels.”
She also stood and he sensed, rather than saw, that she was very close. He’d never had a suspect come on to him, and he’d never wanted to sleep with a suspect. But there’s a first time for everything, he thought.
“Goodbye, Ms. Michaels.”
“Goodbye, Jack.”
Back in his room, Jack wondered about Marni Michaels. What could have motivated her to make a pass at him? Could it be that she was attracted to him? Some women did have a thing for cops. Or could she have a different motive?
Jack dressed and headed for the ship’s jewelry store. He approached the first clerk he saw, a tall, slim man in his late twenties. From his pocket, he pulled out the object he’d found in the kitchen.
“I’m hoping you can tell me if this is what I think it is.” He pushed the tiny object across the glass case. The clerk picked it up then looked at it through a jewelry loupe.
“I’d say that’s at least one carat,” said the clerk. “And pretty high quality.”
Jack left the jewelry store with more questions than answers. He’d suspected the object was a diamond, but what was it doing in the employee cafeteria kitchen? How did it get there?
Was it connected to Matt Smith’s murder? How? He quickly dressed and went up to the bridge. Answers seemed to be on the video footage, but in its’ current condition, it was useless.
“Captain, I need to call the mainland. Can I do that from a secure phone?”
“Certainly,” answered the Captain. Directing his attention to a male crewmember he said, “You there, please take Mr. Harney to my office. Show him how to make a ship-to-shore phone call.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Captain.” Jack said before following the young man down the hall. They passed Mr. Smalls’s still-empty office. The young man showed him how to make his call and he soon reached the switchboard at the Tampa Police Department.
“I.T. Forensics please,” he said.
“Hello?” The connection wasn’t great, but Jack recognized the voice of Mark Webber. Mark was the police department’s computer go-to guy.
“Hey, Mark. This is Jack Harney.”
“Hey, Jack. I thought you’d taken a leave of absence.”
“I did, but I need a favor. Can you do something for me, discreetly?”
“Well that depends on what it is.”
Jack said, “I’ve heard that you’re the go-to guy for all things computer related. I need something recovered, but it’s not on a computer. Can you reconstruct video that’s been damaged?”
“Sure,” said Mark. “Of course.”
“How quickly can the footage be recovered?”
“I can’t guarantee anything, Jack. It depends on how bad the material is. But if you send it to me today, I’ll take a look at it and let you know asap.”
The two men spoke a few minutes longer, with the understanding that Jack would be sending copies of the ship’s video footage to Mark later that day.
Jack’s next stop was the security office. For a change, Bobby and Jojo weren’t working.
“Hi,” said Jack to the two men on shift, Brian and Paul. “Listen, I need copies made of Friday night’s footage. Specifically, the murder of Pam Larsen and the footage in the cafeteria that seems to show Matt Smith’s murder.”
“Sure, Jack,” said Brian. “But you know a copy won’t be any clearer than the original.”
“I know,” said Jack. “That’s okay. I’m sending a copy of it to a friend in the department. He specializes in recovering damaged data, or in this case, video footage.”
“Whew,” said Paul. “So with any luck you might be able to get a better look at whoever killed Pam Larsen.”
“Yeah,” said Jack. “And see better all the people wh
o came and went in the cafeteria that night. I’m going to go grab a quick bite on the lido deck. I’ll be back in around thirty minutes. Will that be enough time?”
“Yeah,” answered Paul. “Plenty.”
***
Frank stood at a tall countertop table, hunched over his plate, his large hands trying unsuccessfully to keep the ingredients of his sushi roll from falling out. He loved sushi, and the more wasabi the better. For some reason the sushi always fell apart before he could get it to his mouth. He suspected it was a conspiracy between the sushi chef and the waiter. More than once he’d looked up to see them snickering at him.
It was a beautiful day—clear and blue with a hint of a cool breeze. Frank turned and watched the various tourists milling around the lido deck. Some people swam in the oversized pool, some were sunning themselves, others played silly games created by the ship’s staff. Organized fun was not something Frank had ever gotten into. He enjoyed his job, but only because the ship made frequent stops. He couldn’t understand people who paid good money for long cruises such as the one they were now on.
If not for the murders, they’d have spent another week on the water, spent a few days in port, then spent two more weeks on the open sea, returning home. It was unfortunate, to say the least, what had happened to Matt Smith and Pam Larsen, but he was grateful it meant they’d only actually spend two weeks at sea. He knew the passengers weren’t happy about it. After two weeks at sea, they’d expected to be somewhere exotic, not back in Tampa. He walked to the bar.
“Coffee please.”
Frank sighed. As soon as he’d awoken, he’d gone to the captain and requested the ship’s manifest listing all the crew members by name and occupation. Soon he’d need to find Jack and tell him he’d found nobody on the crew that seemed to match the initials RJ. He turned to take his coffee from the waiter, and when he turned back around Jack was standing nearby.
“I was just thinking about you,” said Frank.
“Oh yeah,” Jack said. He got the waiter’s attention and pointed at Frank’s coffee.
“Yeah, I went to the bridge, checked out the list of crewmembers like you wanted.”
“Good news?” asked Jack.
Frank shook his head. “Sorry. A couple of guys with the same first name, but nobody with a last name that makes sense for the second letter. But I’ll speak to the guys with the same first name, and let you know if I find out anything useful.”
Jack took the outstretched coffee. As he added some cream and sugar he said, “Damn. I thought we’d gotten a break. I don’t know, Frank. I’m starting to think this thing might not get solved before returning to Tampa. Maybe if we can find our cake thief. She might have something to tell us.”
“Seems like a long shot, Jack. I mean, if she saw anything, why hasn’t she come forward?”
“Hard to say. Fear maybe. She could be afraid of the trouble she might get into, because of the cake she took. Or more likely, she’s afraid Matt’s killer could go after her if he knew what she’d seen.”
Frank didn’t answer. He’d been giving a lot of thought to the woman they’d seen on the video. Was she a simple thief, or could there have been more to her presence in the kitchen? Who would steal such a large cake? It could have been a dare. He’d seen that happen a few times since he’d started working on board. One kid would dare another to steal this or that, but usually it was something from the ship’s store, not food. He figured he knew why the pies and smaller baked goods had been messed with, but the cake was another thing altogether. If the cake had been stolen for the same reason as the smaller items, he was sure that he’d know it.
“So what now?” he asked Jack.
“Back to security. I’ve got the guys making a copy of the footage from the two murders. I’ve got a buddy at the department who’s going to try to restore it.”
***
Paul turned toward the door when Jack and Frank walked in. Holding out a disk he said, “Your friend will have his work cut out for him. Hard to believe a simple thunderstorm did so much damage, but it is what it is.”
“Thanks, Paul.”
Frank followed Jack back to his office and sat on the fold-out chair across from Jack’s desk. Jack set the disk on the desk, next to his newspaper.
“Do you think your friend will have luck with that?” asked Frank.
Jack picked up the disk, turning it over in his hand. “Don’t know, but he has a good reputation. If anyone can get something from nothing, it’s him. I’ve been thinking about the woman. The one who took the cake. You remember that the footage shows her coming out of the kitchen after Matt’s murder? I hope that after this,” he held up the disk, “is restored, we can identify her. She’s the key. I have to hope she is anyway.”
Frank stood. “Well,” he said, “I’ve got some things to do before my shift starts. I’ll see you later, Jack. You’ll keep me posted right? Let me know when you get the restored footage back. I’m as interested as you are to see what it reveals.”
“I will,” Jack said. “Thanks a lot, Frank, I appreciate all your help.”
“Anything I can do to help, just ask.”
After Frank left, Jack took out his notepad and looked at his scribbles again. He looked over everything that Ms. Albright had told him, and his interview with Marni Michaels. He had less than squat to go on.
Marni Michaels. What’s her deal?
Jack looked around his tiny office. It was downright depressing. One crummy light bulb on the ceiling, that didn’t even have a cover, paint peeling on the walls, and a desk that seemed better suited for an elementary classroom than an office. He glanced at the disk. He’d email the contents, but first he’d get the hell out of his “office.”
As he walked toward the elevators, he saw Mr. Smalls approaching.
“Hello, Jack, I was coming to see you.”
“Hello, Mr. Smalls. What can I do for you?”
Mr. Smalls turned around and took Jack by the elbow. He walked with Jack toward the elevator. “I was hoping you could give me an update. On the investigation.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have much to tell you.”
“Nothing?”
Jack felt bad. He wanted to tell Mr. Smalls something that would ease the owner’s mind. He figured the ship’s financial worries coupled with two murders were causing the man many sleepless nights.
“I had security burn me a disk, with the footage from the murders.”
“Why?”
“I have a friend in Tampa. He’s going to try to restore the footage. If we’re lucky, we might get a better look at Pam Larsen’s killer. I don’t know if we’ll ever find out who killed Matt Smith.”
Mr. Smalls seemed lost in thought for a moment then said, “That’s fabulous news, Jack. Please keep me posted.”
“I will.”
Out of the cafeteria walked Chef Philippe, looking as stressed out and frazzled as usual. One stolen pie away from a heart attack, thought Jack. Chef Philippe walked over and addressed Mr. Smalls.
“Did Jack tell you about my baked goods thief?”
Mr. Smalls turned toward Jack, a surprised expression on his face. Jack shook his head. Oh jeez.
“No, he didn’t,” answered Mr. Smalls.
“Well, someone’s been going into my kitchen and destroying my beautiful baked goods. And if that’s not bad enough, they stole a cake too. I believe it has something to do with the competition.”
“Chef Philippe,” said Jack, “we’re working on that issue, but you know I have a murder to investigate.”
“Of course,” answered Chef Philippe. “I understand all about priorities.”
He said he understood, but his expression conveyed annoyance that his baked goods issues weren’t getting more attention.
“Good day,” said the chef as he walked away, in a huff.
Mr. Smalls watched him leave then said to Jack, “What’s going on with his baked goods?”
“Oh nothing. Well, something. Someone,
probably some bored kids, have been sneaking in and messing with his pies and such.”
“Any leads?”
Jack smiled to himself. Leads? Oh yeah tons. I have all available resources investigating the baked goods bandit. But he answered, “To tell you the truth, like I said to the chef, this has been a pretty low priority. I’ll tell you this: we do have footage of a woman leaving with a cake. It was right about the time Matt was killed, so it was night and she had no legitimate reason for being there, or taking the cake. We think she might have seen Matt’s killer.”
“Do you know who she is?”
“Not yet.”
Mr. Smalls started walking toward the cafeteria. “Well,” he said, “you be sure to tell me if you do. I’m very interested.”
Chapter Fifteen
Scott threw himself into a chair, half hanging off it, and looked around the room. Sunday morning, and the bachelor party that had started on Friday night was finally over. Alex had been approached by the housekeeping staff and informed that he would be expected to clean the room, since it was such a disaster area. The wedding planner, who had reserved the room for him, had been told they would get a discount for the remainder of the weekend. Soon, Alex and his friends would arrive to help clean up, Scott had arrived early.
He glanced at the garment bag he’d brought with him. It held the tuxedo he’d be wearing at the wedding; a week earlier it had fit perfectly, but for some reason had become uncomfortably snug. After they were finished cleaning, Scott planned to drop it off at the ship’s tailor and have it taken out some. He looked up, startled. He’d thought he was alone, but was surprised to see Kimy standing across the room, looking lovely in a white, barely there, summer dress.
“What are you doing up here?” he asked.
Kimy walked over. She picked up the garment bag, then sat on the arm of his chair. Scott stood.
“Sophie wanted to know how bad it was, but she didn’t have time to see it for herself. Poor thing, she’s running around crazy now that the wedding is Thursday instead of Friday. You wouldn’t think one day would make such a huge difference. Anyway, I’m glad we’re alone Scott.”
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