by K. J. Emrick
That caught the woman’s full attention. The nametag on her vest said Rose, Cookie noticed, in that absent way that the mind has of picking up on completely unrelated information when something serious is going on. “When did you see him last?” she asked Cookie, her face taking on a true look of concern, her blue eyes seeming to darken under the bright lights. “How long has it been?”
Cookie was embarrassed to remember she’d been out to dinner, having a good time, while her best friend in the world had been stolen away from her. “It’s been at least two hours,” she admitted ruefully. “Maybe three. I left him locked in my cabin, and—”
“I see. All right, I don’t want you to worry. This is a big ship, but it’s still a ship. I’m sorry that your dog slipped out somehow but he really can’t have gone too far.” She seemed so sure of that. “Do you have a picture of him? I’ll get it circulating among the crew and I’m sure one of us will spot him.”
“Yes, of course I have a picture…” Her wallet was back in the room. That’s where she kept her photos. Oh, except for the ones on her phone! “Here, I have a few saved on my cellphone. Um. Here’s a recent one. His name is Cream, and he’s a Chihuahua, his name and my information are on his ID tag.”
She brought the picture up to show Rose, who smiled and said Cream was cute and snapped a close up photo of it with her own cellphone. “I’ll text this to all of our employees and ask them to keep an eye out for him. We’ll find him.”
Unclipping the walkie talkie from her belt she brought it close to her mouth and pressed the button. “George? Are you there George?”
A sticky voice answered. “Always, Rose. What’s up?”
“We have a missing dog. I’m texting out the info now. Can you start a report?”
“Another one? Sure. I’ll have it ready for you.”
“Thanks, George, you’re a peach.” Then she turned back to Cookie and put the radio away. “Everyone is starting to look for him, I promise. In the meantime, can I get your information? Your name and cabin number?”
“My name is Cookie… I mean, Karen Williams. I’m staying in cabin three-oh-four on the Calico Deck. But, really, I need to explain…”
“I see. Yes, I know that area. It’s the one with the painting of the three wild horses, right?”
“What? I… don’t know. I haven’t paid attention. Please, Cream was locked in the room. There’s no way…”
“Oh, wait,” she interrupted. “Did you say cabin three-oh-four? That’s the one where the dog got out yesterday, isn’t it? Yes. I remember.”
Her tone wasn’t exactly accusing but Cookie felt like the woman was blaming her now, or blaming Cream, when she was trying to explain the dog had been in a locked room and there was no way he got out on his own. She’d even remembered to put out the “Do Not Disturb” sign this time so the staff didn’t let him out either.
“Please,” she said. “Just listen to me.”
Rose laid a hand on Cookie’s shoulder, speaking in a calm tone even as her other hand worked the screen on her phone. “I understand. Accidents happen, Ma’am, and you shouldn’t blame yourself. I’m sure you meant to close the door. I’ve seen this happen before.”
Pressure built up inside of Cookie and made her feel like she was going to explode. Curling her hand tightly around her cellphone she gave serious thought to taking Rose by the front of her red vest and shaking her, hard. “I’m trying to tell you something!”
“Cookie!” Jerry’s voice cut across the drone of conversation and music around her. He was running to her, only keeping from bowling people over by means of luck and fancy footwork. When he was at her side he folded her into his arms and held her tight.
Now the tears began, and she had no way of stopping them. She cried into his shirt. This man who had been so distant and careless of her feelings was still her rock. Whatever might happen between them in the next few days, right here and now she needed him.
“I’m here,” he told her. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Cream is missing. He got taken from the cabin. Stolen.” She collected herself enough to step back and point at Rose. “I’ve been trying to explain that to this woman here but she won’t listen to me!”
Rose seemed honestly confused about what she might have done. Or not done, as the case was. “Ma’am?”
“My dog isn’t just missing,” Cookie said to her in clipped tones. “He was taken from my cabin. He was stolen!”
Her shouting had attracted the attention of every passenger within earshot. She wished she could make herself calm down but there was just no help for it. She was too upset.
Rose looked at Cookie like she’d gone crazy, then turned her questioning gaze on Jerry.
“If she says the dog was stolen,” he said, “then he was stolen. Listen, I was just with Captain Abrams on another matter. Call him, please, and ask him to meet with Jerry Stansted on the main deck.”
She looked skeptical, but Rose took her walkie talkie back out and hailed for Captain Abrams.
That was better, Cookie thought, but still it wasn’t enough. She needed everyone on the ship looking room to room to find her dog. The thought came to her suddenly that she should be looking for Cream herself. If anyone was going to recognize him, or his bark, it would be her.
But what if they had dyed his hair, she thought, immediately jumping to the worst conclusion. What if they shaved him bald, or something? Would she recognize him then?
Yes. She’d know her friend anywhere. Nothing would ever change that.
“Cookie,” Jerry asked, his tone changing. “Why did you accuse me of stealing Cream?”
“What?” Now that was just nonsense. She didn’t have time for nonsense. “I did no such thing!”
He took out his phone and turned the screen toward her, showing her the text message string between the two of them. Her last text was still there, as well as three or four that Jerry had sent back to her that she’d been too flustered to even notice.
Did you take Cream?
She closed her eyes for a slow breath. Yes, she had said that. “I didn’t mean it that way, Jerry. Of course I would never think you stole Cream from me. I thought, maybe, you had taken him for a walk or some exercise. Something like that. I’m… I’m sorry if it sounded like anything else but don’t you see? Whoever wrote that note to me was threatening Cream. Let sleeping dogs lie, it said. Jerry, what if… what if it meant…”
He nodded and put the phone away into his pocket but his expression didn’t lighten up. “You know who I think might have done it?”
“Yes. Same as me. Jayce. He didn’t want me looking into Joseph’s murder and he threatened me that if I didn’t stop I’d regret it. Now Cream is… missing and I… oh, I hate this! My dog never did anything to anyone. Why would someone do this? He must be so scared and lonely!”
She didn’t care that people were watching. It was just good to have Jerry on her side, supporting her, getting the crew after Jayce to get Cream back...
But then she saw that he was just waiting for her to finish before he started arguing. “I’ve been trying to talk to Jayce. He doesn’t seem to want to be found. That’s not who I meant, though. I think your new friend took Cream.”
“My new friend… you mean Avery?”
“Yes, Avery. Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious that he started chatting you up right when you started poking into the investigation?”
Cookie gasped. “Oh, and I suppose there’s no chance that a man would just happen to find me interesting?” Now she did begin to take notice of the crowd gathering around them, of the people staring, and… was that a cell phone camera recording them? “Rose, would you mind terribly shooing these people away? This is a private conversation.”
“Then maybe we should have it somewhere private,” Jerry suggested. “Rose, tell Captain Abrams that I’ll be down in our cabin, all right? Number three-oh-four on the—”
“I already told her!” Cookie interrupted him. Sh
e stalked away without looking to see if he was following, heading for the stairway down. She wanted to stay in the cabin anyway in case anyone found anything, or if the person who took Cream tried to slip her another note.
All the way there, Jerry didn’t say a word. He waited until they were inside and the door was closed and they were finally alone. “Okay. Now, hear me out. Yes, I think Avery is the one who took your dog.”
“You are an insufferable man, Jerry Stansted!” she blurted out, hands on her hips. “I can not believe you. Another man shows an interest in me while you’ve been doing nothing but pushing me away and you’re going to stand there and tell me that it’s only because he wants to keep me from investigating the mystery of Joseph’s death. I suppose next you’ll be telling me that he’s the murderer?”
“I think it’s a good possibility, yes.”
She threw her hands into the air and turned in a circle, wishing now that they’d stayed up on deck where everyone could see them. At least then she’d have room to walk away from him! “That’s it. You’re officially insane! I’ve never liked the color of jealousy on a man. It doesn’t suit you, either.”
“It’s not jealousy. Based on my experience and my cop instincts I think we need to consider that Avery may very well be involved in all of this.”
“Oh, so you at least agree that Cream getting dognapped is related to the murder investigation?”
“Of course,” he said, like that was the most obvious thing in the world. “There’s no way it can’t be connected.”
“Then would you mind telling me,” she dared him, “how Avery could have stolen Cream away from our cabin when he was with me having dinner the whole time?”
He sat down, and he didn’t quite smile, but he sounded far too smug in Cookie’s opinion. “Was he really there the whole time?”
She opened her mouth to tell him that yes, Avery was there the whole time. Only, she couldn’t say it. The words crumbled like dry oatmeal in her mouth because she suddenly remembered that Avery had not been with her the whole time. In fact, he had shown up late. While Cookie had sat at the table waiting for him, could he have been the one to…
No. Of course not.
“That’s ridiculous,” she told him, but without the same level of conviction that she’d had a moment ago. “I’ve spent time with Avery. He loves dogs. He wouldn’t do that to Cream.”
“He loves his own dog, maybe, but I’ve known thieves and robbers who loved their own family and still stole from other people. Besides, Cookie, if he’s the one who killed Joseph then there’s no telling what he might do.”
“He didn’t do it!”
Her throat hurt from yelling so loudly, and she could feel her face turning red as a turnip. Not a very becoming color for a woman of her age. Whatever. He’d pushed her last button and now things were really coming to a boil.
“Jayce murdered Joseph. I’m sorry if you can’t see that, with all of your vast police knowledge, but there it is. So he’s the one who took Cream. If you won’t prove it, then I will!”
With that she stormed out of her cabin, almost straight into Captain Abrams coming down the hall. It was hard to say which of them was more startled, but Cookie didn’t have time to be careful. She didn’t have time for finding anything except finding Cream. So, she mumbled a hasty apology and kept going.
“Cookie?” the captain called after her.
She stopped and looked back.
“We’ll find your dog,” he said. “I promise you that. I won’t let anyone disembark until we find him.”
In three strides she bridged the distance back between them and stared him in the face. “You better, Captain. Do whatever you need to, and I’ll do what I need to.”
She realized that she was being very rude, but the anger was the only thing keeping the tears at bay.
Behind her, she heard their cabin door open and then Captain Abrams was talking to Jerry.
“That’s a very spirited lady you have on your hands.”
“Yes,” Jerry agreed. “Don’t worry about her. She won’t find the man she’s accusing of doing this. I’ve been looking for the past three hours and he hasn’t turned up anywhere.”
“I’m not worried about her,” she just heard the captain saying as she turned the corner at the end of the hall. “I’m worried about her tearing my ship apart to get her dog back.”
***
Jerry was wrong.
Maybe he was a good police officer… well, all right, there was no maybe about it. He was a very good police officer, but that didn’t mean he knew everything. People were creatures of habit. They went to where things felt familiar for them. A quick check of the ship’s brochures told her exactly where she’d find Jayce.
Sure enough, there he was.
Among the many offerings onboard ship were three separate gambling establishments with clever names like “The Fifty-Two Pickup Lounge.” Cookie correctly pegged Jayce for more of a sports junky than a card shark. She figured stealing cars was more for the thrill of speed for him than for anything else. There was only one gambling lounge on the ship that featured racing and baseball and even Australian Football. “Stealing Home,” the place was called. The perfect place to find someone who used to steal for fun.
There were televisions suspended from the ceiling everywhere. Barstools were full of men and women staring at the different events on the screens and writing down their bets. Cookie felt out of place among so many young, buff men and girls in too much makeup and jewelry. It was definitely a young person’s atmosphere. Jayce fit right in. In his black shirt and gold chains, he was definitely here to play.
Cookie was not.
His back was to her as she came into the lounge, sitting at the bar watching a car race, and she was able to get right up behind him. She slammed a hand down on the bar next to him and had the great pleasure of having him jump in his seat.
When he turned around, she glared into his dark brown eyes. “Where is my dog, you thieving piece of scum!”
He stared at her. And then, he broke out laughing.
“Language, Karen. We wouldn’t want you to fall off that pedestal you like to sit on, now would we?”
“Don’t get smart with me. I want my dog back! What did you do with him?”
The people in the lounge had all stopped what they were doing to watch the little show Cookie was providing them. The televisions still blared their sports games and commercials and statistics, and no one paid them any attention.
Jayce knew how to play to his audience. He swung around on his stool, lifting his hands up as if to gather everyone closer. “Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Why would I know where your dog is?”
“Because you took him,” she said, her voice dangerously low.
“Don’t be stupid.” He leaned back on his stool and crossed his arms. “You got anything else you want to accuse me of? Murder, dog stealing, what’s next? Got some trash on your lawn you think I put there?”
“I know you have my dog,” she insisted, throwing her finger in his face. “I want him back!”
“Lady, what makes you think I got your dog?”
“Because you’re trying to keep me from looking into who killed Joseph, that’s why.”
That sparked a dozen conversations all around the room. The tide in the room had turned against Jayce, and he knew it. Hanging his head, Jayce jumped off his stool. “You’re crazy. I don’t know when this dog of yours got took, but I’ve been here all afternoon.”
“It’s nighttime,” Cookie pointed out to him.
“Is it?” He looked up at the clock on the wall, then down at his watch as if he needed to double check. “Huh. Whatever. I’ve been here the whole time. Look for yourself.”
He picked up the sheet of paper from the bar in front of him and handed it to her. Cookie glared at him, but took it from him anyway. It took her a minute to figure out how to read it but when she did she saw that it was a betting tally sheet, showing not j
ust the wager placed but an electronic time stamp for each event. The sheet was nearly full from two o’clock on. No wonder Jerry hadn’t been able to find Jayce. He’d been here, losing money in five and ten dollar increments. Who would have ever thought that living beyond your means would be a valid alibi for murder?
Maybe he could have faked it, she thought, but then she realized there was no way. The time stamps for each bet was electronic. The bartenders would have to be the ones marking the card for each patron. There was no way for Jayce, or anyone, to have faked this.
She was just about to hand it back to him when something else caught her eye and she snatched it away again. The handwriting. The way Jayce wrote…
Her frown deepened. “You didn’t leave me that note in my cabin.”
Snapping his fingers in her face, he made a rude noise and snatched his betting form out of her hand. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Look, I don’t know what your problem is with me, but just keep out of my orbit, got me? I’m not a nice man when I get angry. Sure my sister told you that.”
He spun back to the bar, making some comment to the people next to him about what a nut Cookie was. She didn’t even care. Her world spun out of control. Jayce didn’t have Cream. She’d been wrong. About everything. Wrong about him stealing her best friend, wrong about him killing Joseph, and wrong about him leaving her that threatening note.
With her shoulders slumped she left the lounge, ignoring the people pointing and whispering about her. Somewhere on this ship, Cream was depending on her to find him and save him. Only, she had no idea where to look anymore. Captain Abrams could probably insist on a search of Jayce’s cabin, but it wouldn’t make any difference. She now knew that whoever sent that note to her, it wasn’t Jayce.
She should have taken that betting sheet with her, she knew. Jerry would want to see it for himself. Well, he’d just have to take her word for it. It wasn’t him.
Jayce was dyslexic. Hardly any of the words he’d written down were spelled correctly.
Walking blindly through her tears, Cookie tried to figure out a next step. Maybe Jerry was right. Maybe she shouldn’t be investigating crimes.