Under the Moonlight collection

by MaryAnn Kempher

  “We have reason to believe your friend was killed by a woman.”

  Marni seemed shocked. “A woman?”

  “Yes. That’s all I can tell you.”

  Jack wondered about the expression on her face. Under any other circumstances, he might have thought she looked stressed or worried rather than grief stricken. Not that he expected her to be grief stricken—she’d told him her and Pam had just been acquaintances.

  “Hey,” he said. “I have until Friday. Try not to think about it, if possible.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s been rough. I know Pam’s dead, but at the same time, it feels like she isn’t. I mean, like she could be somewhere on board. We didn’t spend a lot of time together last week. So it’s weird, you know?”

  She rubbed her hand across her forehead. “Maybe I’ve been out in the sun too long. I’m not feeling so hot.”

  “Can I get you anything? Some water? Maybe something stronger?”

  “No, but thank you. I think I’ll go lie down.” She stood. “Can you walk me to my room?”

  The request surprised Jack. He looked at Marni, his eyes searching hers, as if looking for something unspoken in them.

  “Of course,” he answered. “If you’d like.”

  Jack’s mind was racing. He knew right from wrong, smart from stupid. He’d always been a huge flirt, but taking advantage of vulnerable women was not his style. Yet, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if she invited him into her cabin. On the way, they didn’t speak. Finally, they stood at her door. She unlocked and opened it, then turned toward him.

  “Would you like to come in?” she asked.

  Jack hadn’t wanted anything more in a long time.

  “No,” he answered. “I’d better not. I have, ah, things to do. I’m sure we’ll talk again, Ms. Michaels.”

  Jack didn’t wait for a reply. He considered himself a good cop, but he was human. He walked away wondering if Marni Michaels was sincerely distraught, or a world-class actress.

  Marni stood by the closed door, her hand on it. She was tempted to go back out, to call out to Jack. But what would she say? Hold me? She swallowed hard, annoyed at how emotional she was lately. Okay, so Pam was dead. Get over it. But she knew Pam’s death wasn’t what was scraping at the back of her mind, not really what was waking her up in the middle of the night. Just a few more days, she told herself. A few more days and she could get off this godforsaken boat.

  ***

  RJ’s back was against his closet door, the handle painfully jabbing into his back. An arm lay across his throat, an angry face inches from his own.

  “You’d just better keep your mouth shut.”

  “What makes you think I’m going to say anything?” croaked RJ. “I have as much to lose as you do.”

  RJ felt like firecrackers were going off in his head. Flashes of white light and stars appeared before his eyes. He’d be unconscious soon. The man towering over him must have sensed this because he lifted his arm off of RJ’s neck and tossed him toward the bed.

  “I’ll know if you talk, I’ll know if you whisper or imply, or so much as crap suspiciously.”

  RJ held up his hands defensively. “Is this really necessary? I don’t know where this paranoia is coming from.”

  The man towered over RJ. “You’re a weasel, RJ, always have been. You’d turn on your own mother, but your mother wouldn’t kill you for doing it. I will.”

  RJ sat up, scooching away from the man.

  “I’m insulted. I may be a weasel—not saying that I am—but I’m not a snitch. Plus, how can I tell anyone what happened without getting myself into trouble too?”

  The man straightened up, and walked to the door. He turned back toward RJ. “In a few days, we’ll be back in Tampa. The police are going to want to talk to everyone, including the crew. Just keep your cool, and we’ll all be long gone before anyone figures out what happened, if they ever do.”

  RJ shrugged. “Sure. Don’t worry about it. I’m cool.”

  “I’ve noticed you spending a lot of time with one of the passengers. You haven’t already forgotten what happened to the last woman you got cozy with?”

  RJ paled. “That was different. And not my fault, if you recall.”

  “Maybe not, but you do have a pattern. I seem to recall a woman on the last cruise. She didn’t make it back to shore either, did she?”

  RJ shifted uncomfortably. He liked to get rough during sex—not exactly unheard of. So he got a little carried away. One minute the woman beneath him was squirming with pleasure, and the next she was dead. Not his fault. He’d been really lucky she’d come on the cruise alone.

  “That was an accident.”

  “Sure. And the prostitute in the Bahamas? I’m sure you accidentally broke her nose. You like it rough, I get it.”

  RJ swung his feet over the side of the bed and started picking at threads on the bed’s blanket.

  “I’m much better than I used to be. I learned my lesson, I’m a lot more careful.”

  The man laughed. The sound made RJ nervous. The man opened the door and was halfway out before he said, “This woman, the one I’ve been seeing you with. She’s on the cruise with a large group. They’ll miss her if she suddenly disappears. So restrain yourself.”

  And then he was gone. RJ went to his bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. Now that the man had left, some of his courage returned. His lip curled with disgust. The nerve of that guy. Lecturing him on restraint. He thought about Amy. He’d be careful; he didn’t want or need any trouble. But one way or another, he was going to get the pants off that woman and teach her who was boss. Maybe he’d tie her up? Stuff a sock in her mouth? Yeah, she seemed like she might like things rough, like he did.

  RJ swallowed hard, his thoughts exciting him. He licked his lips as he walked to his dresser. He pulled out a small whip and gently slapped his hand with it. RJ’s cravings blinded him to his own poor judgment. Where might Amy be right now? And how could he get her back to his room?

  ***

  Amy stood by the lido deck entrance, seeing everyone in a different light, now that she felt depressed. Then she saw Jack. He was across the deck, talking to a woman. When they both stood and started walking toward Amy, her mouth fell open. Jack had his hand on the women’s lower back, in a familiar fashion. The blood thundered in Amy’s ears. She quickly moved, so he wouldn’t see her. She steadied herself on a nearby chair and watched as Jack followed the woman away from the deck.

  An hour ago, she’d been bummed that the ship would be back in Tampa by Friday. Now she wished it was returning that day. And even though she hadn’t had the chance to make herself look like a fool to Jack, she felt embarrassed and humiliated.

  After a few minutes, she felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked up, expecting to see Katherine, but it wasn’t. She’d run into RJ more than a few times since the previous Friday. They’d walked around the ship talking, shared a few drinks together, and she thought he was sexy and cute. If the ship hadn’t been returning to Tampa so soon, Amy was sure they would have ended up in bed together eventually.

  “Hi, RJ.”

  He smiled. “You called me RJ. You usually call me Robert.”

  Amy shrugged. “RJ’s less formal.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “You look upset.”

  Had Amy not been so preoccupied with images of Jack, she might have noticed RJ’s flushed face was. He even had beads of sweat on his top lip. She stood and took his hand in hers.

  “I was wondering …” she said.

  “Yes?”

  Amy looked in the direction she’d seen Jack leave. “I was wondering if you have a roommate.”

  He smiled. “No, sure don’t.”

  “Well then, I’d love to see your cabin.”

  “Great,” he said as he put his arm around Amy’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  After reluctantly leaving Marni Michaels at her cabin door, Jack quickly returned to the lido deck and headed b
ack to the restaurant, but it was busy and he didn’t feel like waiting in line for a coffee. He left just in time to see Amy. Her back was to him, but that didn’t matter. He’d seen Amy in his dreams a hundred times; he’d recognize her anywhere. She was leaving with some guy, and they were holding hands.

  Damn.

  Jack stood frozen in place as he watched her leave. Yeah, she’s all brokenhearted over me. When she was gone he followed, but slowly enough to ensure she’d be gone by the time he got to the elevators.

  Jack entered the elevator. Moments later, he arrived at his destination. Though guests could be seen coming and going from the many clothing and souvenir shops, he’d found that the café on the seventh floor was usually quiet, and so it was one of his favorite places to go to think.

  The cafe was of medium size. Large enough to accommodate a fair amount of people, but small enough to still feel intimate. Jack ordered a coffee and sat in a corner. Nobody was seated to his left, and to his right was a half wall that separated him from other guests, affording a small amount of privacy.

  As he sipped his coffee, a familiar voice drifted over the short wall. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but his ears perked up and his detective instincts took over as bits and pieces of conversation drifted his way. The voice belonged to the ship’s captain.

  “I don’t care how much it costs,” he said. “You know I’m good for it. I make plenty of money doing what I do. So don’t you worry about it. You’ll get paid.”

  Jack was unsure if the captain was on the phone or was talking to someone actually seated with him, until Jack heard a second voice. He didn’t recognize the other voice, but it belonged to a man.

  “I bet you wouldn’t want anyone knowing about this.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” the captain said.

  Jack sat up straighter in his seat.

  “Nothing. Just that you being in the position that you’re in … well it might not look good, all this.”

  “What?” the captain said. “A little gambling? It’s not a crime.”

  “Look, don’t take this the wrong way. I mean, who am I to judge? Have you ever thought about getting help?”

  “Help?” the captain said angrily. “I don’t need help.”

  “Maybe not, but I can’t float you any longer. Until you pay me what you already owe, I can’t help you out.”

  “I told you, after we get back to Tampa I can pay you.”

  “Why? What’s in Tampa?”

  Jack heard chairs shuffle and move across the floor. He heard the Captain speak again, and it seemed clear that he was now standing.

  “Never mind. All you need to know is that I have money, or know where to get it.”

  Jack half stood. He watched the captain walk away with an unknown man. Jack sat back down. He thought about the captain and his gambling. He wondered whether he was losing more than he was making, and he wondered what was in Tampa that would allow the captain’s debts to be paid.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Monday afternoon, Scott and Alex sat at the edge of the pool, their feet dangling over the sides.

  “Every time I look at you, you look more and more like Magnum, P.I.,” said Scott, laughing.

  Alex moved his sunglasses to the tip of his nose, looking over the top. “You think so?”

  “Don’t look so pleased,” said Scott. “That wasn’t meant to be a compliment.”

  Twirling his black mustache, Alex said, “Oh I don’t know. Sounds like a compliment to me. Could it be, little brother, that you’re a bit jealous?”

  Considering that Scott and Alex had often been mistaken for twins, that statement was met with a lot of eye rolling from Scott.

  “Yeah right, that’s it. You got me.”

  Alex pushed his sunglasses back into place and leaned back on his arms, his face soaking up the sun’s rays.

  “How’s all the wedding stuff coming along?” asked Scott.

  “Good, I guess. Sophie and the wedding planner are pretty much taking care of things. After I told Sophie the cake was ready, she let me off the hook for everything else. But it’s not like the wedding was moved up weeks—it was only moved up one day.”

  “So it’s this Thursday then?”

  “Yep. All I have to do is show up.” Alex sat back up. “What’s Katherine doing today? I haven’t seen her much.”

  “She’s been having headaches lately,” said Scott. “On and off. When I left, she was just getting out of bed.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad.”

  “Well it can’t help that Sophie doesn’t like her,” said Scott, “and mom barely speaks to her.”

  “Oh, you know they’ll come around. Mom’s still recovering from your gunshot wound.”

  Scott kicked at the water. “It’s been over six months. And what’s Sophie’s excuse? What did Katherine ever do to her?”

  “Seriously?” said Alex. “You have to ask?”

  “What?”

  “Kimy and Sophie are friends. Kimy wants to get back into your boxer shorts but can’t because of Katherine. Sophie’s being a loyal friend.”

  Scott let the subject drop. He knew better than to say a bad word about Sophie, especially to Alex, who was head over heels in love with the woman. But Scott thought Sophie was behaving badly, and he didn’t believe it was all because of Kimy. And his mother, she was another thing. He decided right then that soon he’d sit her down for a long overdue talk.

  Scott stretched his arm toward a glass of soda he’d brought with him, on a small table a few feet away.

  “Hey, is that Amy?” Scott asked Alex. “Is she holding hands with that guy?”

  “Looks like it.” said Alex. “That might be the guy she met the first day. They’ve been hanging out together a lot since then.”

  “Well that’s good, right?” said Scott. “I mean, with the break-up and all, she was pretty depressed.”

  “I guess,” said Alex. “Hope she knows what she’s doing and he’s not a perv or anything.”

  Scott stood. “Come on. We need to go to the tailor and check on my tuxedo.” They walked over and got into the elevator.

  “What floor?” asked Alex.

  “I think it’s on seven,” said Scott.

  Alex pushed the button. “Seven it is,” he said. “How come your tux is at the tailor anyway?”

  “I tried it on Saturday,” answered Scott, “and it had shrunk.”

  Alex laughed. “Oh it did huh? I hate it when that happens. So you needed it to be let out a little?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You are such a food hound.”

  The seventh floor was mostly shops for buying souvenirs, the tailor, and a small café. Alex and Scott entered the tailor’s shop and walked up to a counter, but nobody seemed to be around.

  “Ring the bell,” said Scott. Alex lightly tapped a bell sitting on the counter and from around the corner appeared a man so tall that Scott and Alex, who were both over six feet tall, needed to look up at him.

  “May I help you?” asked the man, in a voice usually reserved for children who had sampled from a helium balloon. Scott could see the corners of Alex’s mouth quiver. He put his hand on Alex’s shoulder and squeezed hard. Alex looked over at Scott, his eyes bright.

  “We’re here to check on a tuxedo,” said Scott. “It was dropped off yesterday, to be let out some.”

  The man bent down and pulled a book from under the counter. “Name?” he asked.

  “Mitchell,” answered Scott.

  The man thumbed through pages separated by lettered tabs until he got to M. “Ah, here we are,” he said. “Manson.”

  “No,” said Scott, “Mitchell.”

  “Oh sorry, my mistake. Minor.”

  “No, Mitchell.”

  “Moon?”

  Alex, who had been looking down to better control himself, looked up and shouted, “Mitchell.”

  The man shut the book shut. “No need to shout,” he said. “That’s what I said. Come this way.
” Alex and Scott followed the man around the corner, where there was a full-length mirror in front of a raised platform.

  “Please stand there,” the man instructed, then walked away. He returned, holding a suit with clear plastic wrapping. He handed the jacket to Scott, who looked confused.

  “What’s this for?” asked Scott. “The jacket was fine—it was the pants that were too small.”

  “I don’t understand,” said the man. “Your fiancée stopped by and said to take the jacket out,” he said.

  “I don’t have a fiancée,” said Scott as he pulled on the jacket. The sleeves reached past his hands and the coat seemed big enough for someone twice his size. The man took the pants off the hanger and held them out. From the looks of them, they either belonged to someone else—like a ten-year-old—or they’d been taken in instead of let out.

  “How am I supposed to fit into these?” asked Scott, trying to remain calm.

  The man held the pants against him. “I don’t understand,” he said. “A young lady stopped by yesterday, shortly after these were dropped off. She said there had been a mistake, that you wanted the coat let out and the pants taken in.”

  “What young lady?” asked Scott.

  The man put his finger to his forehead and tapped it three times. “I don’t believe she left her name. I didn’t actually speak to her. My assistant did, but I saw her as she was leaving.”

  “Well,” said Alex, “what did she look like?”

  “Hmm, I think she had long, dark hair and was very attractive. But don’t hold me to that.” He retrieved a tape measure from his pocket. “You should have told someone you needed the pants let out.”

  Scott’s eyes grew wide. He started to sputter, but only half sentences came out of his mouth. “Why, how? Wrong measurements. No sense.”

  Alex stepped over. “ How long will it take you to fix this?” he asked.

  “Oh, this is an easy fix,” said the man. “Twenty-four hours, maybe a little more.” Scott began to calm down. There was plenty of time.

  “Fine, I’ll be back tomorrow for a refitting.” He and Alex walked out of the shop. Alex started laughing.