Paradise Can Be Murder

by Susan Bernhardt

  “What does that have to do now with Sybil’s death?” Elizabeth asked.

  “It would shed more light on solving the case. Who all was involved in this plot? We don’t know who all the players are in this murder. Learning anything will help.”

  “The boyfriend might have been helping her,” Deirdre said, ignoring Elizabeth.

  We all went quiet. There were so many possibilities. I didn’t know what to think anymore.

  * * * *

  At dinner that evening, none of us were surprised to see George and Sybil’s table empty. My heart sank. How could this have happened? A few days ago I knew nothing of this woman. Now this tragedy. I still felt guilty that I had been so suspicious of her, if I was wrong.

  We told Phil and Mike what we had found out that day. They thought the theory of Sybil possibly trying to kill George was a bit farfetched.

  “Mike and I went on the internet after the lecture. According to Maritime Law, the Captain is the absolute authority on the ship. It’s called “Admiralty Law.”

  “You did? Really, you guys looked that up? I’m so surprised,” I said.

  “It’s not what you think. If you mess around with this death, the Captain could throw you all in the brig for interfering if he wanted,” Phil added.

  “Well, Elizabeth will just have to seduce the Captain with her charisma with a capital C and have him see it our way,” Deirdre said.

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Funny, Deirdre.”

  “Do they have a brig on this ship?” Janey asked.

  “Yes,” Phil answered. “They have a special one for tweens who wake up too early in the morning.”

  Janey crossed her arms. “Funny!”

  “Remember at tea, Sybil said that George worked for the State Department,” I said. “I wonder what his job was. Perhaps he worked for the CIA, or was she lying about that as well?”

  Phil smirked. “You’ve been reading too many mysteries.”

  “Don’t give me that look. I’ve seen enough CIA movies to know that what you see on the surface is almost never what goes on below.”

  Phil cut into his pan-seared Basa filet. He continued to have some type of fish at every meal. “There are lots of jobs in the State Department. Ambassadors and their staff, consulates in all of the foreign countries. Do an online search.”

  “Then why was he so secretive about his work?” I asked.

  “Sybil said he was secretive?” Mike asked.

  “Sybil said they suddenly had to move,” Deirdre commented.

  “I bet he was a spy for the CIA. They all have cyanide pills in case they’re caught,” Janey said. “That’s what Sybil died from, cyanide poisoning.”

  “Maybe he got fired and didn’t want to tell his wife. I don’t know how you would ever find out,” Phil said. “Seems like a dead end and especially now that you found out Sybil wasn’t being truthful.”

  Deirdre and I looked at Elizabeth.”

  “But even lies are usually based on truth,” I said. “One thing we can find out about is the scuba incident.”

  “I’ll get on that,” Elizabeth said.

  “Elizabeth, you could also get George drunk,” Janey said. “He’ll spill his guts.”

  Elizabeth looked indignant.

  I clicked my tongue. “Janey! No one here is going to get anyone drunk.”

  She shrugged. “Just trying to help.”

  “What’s on for the entertainment tonight?” Phil said, changing the subject.

  And with that our conversation ended. I sat eating my dessert, New York cheesecake, thinking about what we knew. Sybil was in fact dead, murdered, by poison. I figured her body was in the refrigerated flower storage, but that didn’t matter any longer. George could have poisoned his wife or killed her anywhere, anytime. Why do it publicly? Why on a cruise? That didn’t make sense. And if he didn’t poison her, hadn’t he noticed that Sybil didn’t come back to the room that night? Had Sybil tried to kill George, and George got to her first? So many questions needing answers. And what about a motive? What about the boyfriend? I put my fork down.

  That evening, on our way to listen to the house band, we saw George sitting at a bar. He was holding a mixed drink in his hand and flirting with a pretty, long-limbed blonde who looked to be twenty years his junior. George seemed to have advanced through the five stages of grief rapidly.

  His eyes were glassy and bloodshot. I could smell alcohol on his breath from where I was standing when we walked up to him.

  He eyed Elizabeth up and down. “Hello, lovely lady. You look familiar,” he said loudly. “What can I get you?”

  “Couldn’t you wait until your wife’s body was cold before hitting on other women?”

  Elizabeth asked. “You’re pathetic.”

  The blonde George had been talking to picked up her drink and walked away.

  He turned away from the retreating woman and faced the bar, downing the rest of his drink. “Thanks a lot.”

  He held out his glass to the bartender. Another woman, a decade older than the previous one, sat down on the bar stool next to him. He started chatting her up.

  As we walked away, I reminded Elizabeth about finding out from John, the Head of Security, if an incident report was ever written up on George’s scuba diving accident.

  Chapter Eleven

  Day Seven on the ship

  Friday, April 1

  JUST LIKE CLOCKWORK, at nine o’clock that morning, there was an announcement that the engineers were continuing to work on the repairs. The work was expected to be finished later in the day. The announcer went on to say that we should arrive at Grand Cayman Island tomorrow morning.

  Janey took a sip of her orange juice. We had ordered in juice, coffee, and pastries and were relaxing on the balcony. “There wasn’t any mention of a murder on board.”

  I looked out at the water. I still hadn’t seen any dolphins, whales or anything in the open waters. “There wouldn’t be. The staff doesn’t want to upset the passengers. Just like they denied to us that there was a murder.”

  “With the limited law enforcement on board, they won’t want to make a big deal about it and have people panic,” Phil said. “They’re more concerned about getting to the next port and getting the body off the ship discreetly.”

  Looking back at Janey, I said, “This might be a good day for you to get your photos in order and start writing your report for school. That way you won’t have to think about it tomorrow and you can have fun on the island. If you’re spending ten days in paradise your teacher will expect an interesting report.”

  “With all that is going on, it should be an exciting report. I’ll title it, ‘Paradise Can Be Murder’.”

  “That would be a great title for a book,” I said.

  Phil agreed. “It’s catchy.”

  “I have to wait, though, to finish the report and write about how we solved the murder mystery. So what’s the plan, Kay?” Janey’s eyes widened.

  Phil’s face reddened. “What plan, and what do you mean, how ‘we’ solved it? We are not in Sudbury Falls. Kay—”

  I put my coffee cup down. “But are you sure you should write about a murder for school? Do you think you should be telling your friends about this? Their parents might be upset.”

  She shrugged. “I told them about how we solved the murder last summer. Besides, what could be more exciting?”

  There was a knock on the door.

  Janey jumped up from her chair. “I’ll get it.”

  Deirdre and Elizabeth came out on the balcony. “We’re going to the pastry shop. Would you like to come along?”

  “I’d like to,” Janey responded from behind them.

  “Janey, I think you should start on your project.”

  She sighed and went back out to the balcony, plopping down on a chair.

  Phil was still talking to Janey about not solving any crime when I closed the stateroom door.

  “At home, whenever we were stumped on some murder investigation
, it always helped to go to Sweet Marissa’s to come up with a solution,” Elizabeth said as we walked down the hall.

  “Face it. You’re a chocoholic,” Deirdre said. “That’s why you really want to go.”

  On our way down to the atrium, George was being led away by two crew members. I stopped dead in my tracks. “Did you see George?”

  “Yup. That was John with them,” Elizabeth said. “I bet they’re arresting him for killing his wife. Good, I’m glad they got their murderer.”

  We ordered our pastries and coffee and sat at a table near the cafe.

  “I guess there’s nothing to solve after all,” I said. “Phil will be happy about that. Janey will be mad she missed seeing him being led away.”

  “I wonder where they would detain someone suspected of murder on a ship?” Deirdre took a bite out of her scone.

  “Probably in a regular stateroom with guards outside the door,” I said. “I can’t imagine there’s a jail on board.”

  “I hope it’s not a balcony room. He might try to escape.”

  “I need to find out what is going on.” Elizabeth stood up. “What time are we going to lunch?”

  “You didn’t finish your chocolate pastry yet,” I said.

  “No time.” She hesitated, then grabbed the chocolate croissant and left in a hurry.

  “Off to talk to her sources, I suppose.” I took a sip of my mocha. “George was the logical suspect in Sybil’s murder.”

  “Maybe he confessed?”

  I put my coffee cup down. “But it still doesn’t make sense to me why he would kill Sybil in such a public place and after having a heated argument? Janey heard them. The bartender was there.”

  “They must have something on him to take him off like that. Did you notice if he was in handcuffs?”

  The custard tart was delicious. Deirdre and Elizabeth had arrived before I had a chance to eat any pastries out on the balcony of our stateroom. I put my fork down. “I didn’t notice, and I doubt that he was. That would be hard to explain to the guests.”

  “If you don’t think George killed Sybil, who else could have?” Deirdre asked.

  “I didn’t say George didn’t kill her, but...” I shook my head. “We’ve been through this already. I don’t know. Maybe her old boyfriend. He was on the ship. Perhaps she was a threat to him.”

  “Perhaps it was the mystery woman we saw at karaoke. We never did get a good look at her in the shadows. We never thought of her. There are innumerable possibilities. It could be anyone, someone we have no idea about.”

  “Deirdre...quick!” I got up from our table and rushed over to another table where Sybil’s old boyfriend had just sat down.

  “Hello. Can we join you?” He was wearing an expensive jacket and was holding a glass of iced tea. On his wrist reflected a heavy modern gold watch. His plate was full of pastries. He’d be here for a while.

  The man had a surprised expression on his face, and then looked at Deirdre as she arrived carrying her coffee. “Of course. I’m Aaron Langdon.” He put his glass down and waved his hand towards the chairs on the other side of the table.

  We sat down.

  “I’m Kay. This is Deirdre. I recognize you from afternoon tea a few days ago. I believe you know our friend Sybil Smith.”

  Aaron shifted in his chair and raised a waxed metrosexual eyebrow. “Sybil Smith?” He clasped his hands together, then picked up his glass again. He swirled the ice cubes around in the glass, not taking a sip.

  He was playing dumb. Why not? This worked when I confronted George not knowing Sybil was indeed dead. “Yes. Sybil Smith. I don’t know how you could forget her. She said she knew you from way back, when you lived in New York City.”

  Deirdre looked over at me, her mouth open.

  Aaron cleared his throat. His eyes narrowed, his mouth hard. Putting down his glass once again, he said, “Is that what her name is now? She was Sybil Kartowski when I knew her. I thought I recognized her that day at tea. I’m surprised she would mention me to you.”

  “She did.” Deirdre nodded.

  “And at great length,” I added, waiting for his explanation while I studied his face.

  He flexed his fingers, curling them and uncurling them. He grimaced. “That was a long time ago. Something I’d like to forget and keep from my wife.”

  “We saw her talking to you since.” I didn’t mention the kiss.

  He looked around the area.

  I looked at him expectantly.

  Then looking down at his pastries, he picked up his fork. His hands were shaking. He put the fork back down, put his hands on his lap, and started talking rapidly. It was almost like we had put a nickel in him. “I didn’t know she would be on this cruise. Believe me.”

  I didn’t believe him. Of all the cruises in the world to go on and they chose the same one?

  “Yes, we used to live together in New York City. I didn’t force her to work at the gentlemen’s club, if that’s what she told you. We were both struggling, and were dangerously poor, trying to survive in the city. The rent was immoral. I got a job at the club. It was soul-sucking, but it paid decently and I got her a job. She was good at what she did and made good tips. She was a strong woman and had a lot of confidence. She knew what she had to do to get what she wanted. We used that money to better ourselves. And left the business as soon as we could.”

  While he told their story, Deirdre and I remained silent. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and how forthright he was about everything. I never would have guessed Sybil worked at a gentlemen’s club. She acted so prim and proper. Of course, so did Aaron.

  He blinked rapidly, continuing to act nervous. “I see my wife. She’s coming over. Please, I beg you, don’t say anything about this or about Sybil. My life is different now. Sybil was a long time ago, before I met my wife. She knows nothing about my past or about Sybil.”

  “Do you know Sybil is dead, murdered?” Deirdre asked.

  He gasped and immediately his hand clutched at his chest.. “What? Really?”

  “And you had a motive,” I said.

  “Good morning!” Aaron’s wife, a well dressed woman sat down at the table smiling. She put her large leather shoulder bag on the chair next to her. There was a strand of pearls around her neck, and she had perfect makeup and a lovely smile.

  Putting her hand, with her perfect French manicured nails, on her husband’s arm, she said, “I’m Mary.” She looked over at Aaron, her eyes alive with curiosity. “Aaron, please introduce me to your friends. I believe I recognize you from tea. You both were with two other women.”

  Aaron still looked shaken. His smile stiff in an effort not to lose it.

  I smiled at Mary and then glanced at Aaron again. His posture remained rigid. He looked at me with a pained gaze.

  “Good morning. You are correct. We did see you the other day at tea. I’m Kay, and this is my friend—”

  Deirdre interrupted, looking at her watch, “Look at the time. I’m sorry, but we’re late meeting up with our husbands. Kay, I’m afraid we’d better hurry.”

  She quickly stood up. I followed. We said our good-byes and left. I turned around. Aaron was watching us retreat.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Deirdre said, when we had crossed the atrium and were heading up the stairs. “Aaron looked completely stunned by the mention of Sybil’s death.”

  “He could be faking it. I think his pained look was more for concern about his wife finding out about Sybil than Sybil being dead. And he does have a strong motive to kill Sybil. He seemed so worried, so concerned, that his wife not learn about his past.”

  “Perhaps he’s dependent on his wife’s money. She could be his ‘sugar mama’,” Deirdre said.

  At the top of the stairs, overlooking the area by the pastry shop, I said, “Did you notice how he spoke about Sybil using the past tense? He could have said, ‘Sybil is a strong woman.’”

  “You’re right.”

  I nodded. “Sybil definitely ha
d an interesting past...a gentlemen’s club. There must have been a really good reason why Sybil and Aaron were both on this cruise, especially with Aaron not wanting to risk his wife finding out about Sybil.”

  “That puts rekindling their relationship out of the question.”

  “I agree, at least for Aaron. Perhaps Sybil was here to put an end to a marriage or Aaron, to a threat.”

  * * * *

  Elizabeth came into the dining room at lunch and sat down. She looked pleased with herself. “Well, ladies, I got the scoop from John.”

  “John called?” Janey asked.

  “John, the Chief Security Officer,” I said.

  Janey smiled. “Oh, lover boy John.”

  “Janey!” I reprimanded her immediately.

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at Janey, her brow furrowed. Then looked to us. “I’m getting tired of this harassment about John. It isn’t funny any longer. He’s been a big help in getting us information. Perhaps you don’t want to hear what else he had to say.”

  Janey looked down. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. We’re dying to know what you found out.”

  “At first he said he couldn’t talk about it. But when I pushed the matter, he mentioned that during their interview, George said he used to work for the CIA.”

  “Yes! I was right!” I said. I couldn’t wait to tell Phil. “Did you ask about the scuba incident and the accident report?”

  “I did. He said he’d check into it. There was a breach in security at the agency and George’s cover was blown. He had to quit and was relocated to Iowa.”

  “Iowa?” Deirdre said. “Why Iowa of all places?”

  “Who would ever look for an ex-spy in Iowa?” I said. “I’m sure he was in something similar to witness protection.”

  “So does that take him off the hook for killing his wife?” Janey asked. “The CIA probably kills people all the time. He was used to killing.”

  I shook my head at Janey’s statements. “It shouldn’t take him off the hook. Go on, Elizabeth.”

  “That’s all I have.”

  “That isn’t much,” Janey said.