by Diane Rapp
A sick feeling spread from Kayla’s stomach to her chest. “I’ll call his secretary and find out what they’re doing.” Kayla said in a quavering voice.
Jill cleared her throat. “I’m afraid we can’t keep the cottage for you. It’s too dangerous if criminals can…you’ve got to understand…I’ve got kids to think of…we’ll take Sorrell to our house if we can catch her…and I’ll put your things into storage, at least anything still in one piece…I’m sorry.”
Kayla nearly sobbed. She remembered the joy of picking out dishes and furniture with Steven and how the moist soil felt as she planted flowers. They’d never sit on the porch watching the sunset drinking iced tea again. She felt like someone hacked out a piece of her body without using anesthetic.
“Kayla?” Jill’s voice broke into her thoughts. “You do understand? If criminals stalk our tenants…it puts our children in danger, too.”
“I understand, Jill. Besides, I’m not sure how long my job’s going to last. I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble…packing…keeping the cat. I’ll send you some money to cover the cost of storage and pet food. When I straighten out my schedule, I’ll come back to settle things.”
Jill sighed, sounding relieved. “There’s no hurry. I’ve got your deposit to cover the storage and the kids love Sorrel. Let me know what you want to do. We’ve got plenty of people who want the cottage, so I’ll have no trouble renting it. Insurance should cover the damage to the door, but I didn’t want you to get mad at me.”
Kayla forced a laugh. “We’ve been friends too long for me to be mad…and I don’t want to endanger your kids. Let me know if the police turn up anything and I hope you can catch Sorrell.”
“I’m sure the kids can coax her out now that we know about salmon. You take care of yourself. If these guys can track Steven to Colorado, they might trace you to the ship. Be careful. Good bye.”
“Bye,” Kayla said, hanging up. She turned to her friends. “Somebody broke into my cottage and left a threatening note for Steven. My landlady doesn’t want to keep the cottage for us. She’s afraid.”
Kayla’s lip quivered and tears burned her eyes. Emily wrapped an arm around her and Kayla sobbed into her shoulder. “There, there. Let’s call Steven and see what Interpol plans to do about those thugs.”
Natalia said, “Think on the bright side. You won’t waste money on rent while you’re not there to enjoy yourself. Who’s Sorrell? What kind of salmon tempts her?”
Kayla laughed, wiping tears from her cheeks. “Sorrell is my cat. She’s black with white boots on her feet so we named her Sorrel after a brand of white snow boots. She ran away during the break-in and they saw her hiding in the bushes nearby.”
“Salmon’s a great inducement. That cat will get hungry and turn herself in for the reward.” Natalia ran her tongue over her lips. “It sounds tempting, I might give up my freedom for an unending supply of salmon, how about you, Emily?”
“Sounds delicious, your cat is lucky you laid in a good supply.”
Kayla tried to smile through more tears. “I’d better call Steven.” It took a few minutes to reach Steven’s secretary. “I understand I can’t speak with him, but I thought I’d better find out what’s happening on your end.”
The secretary explained that investigators with Interpol would handle the crisis in Colorado. Kayla found herself nodding into the phone while she dabbed at her tears. “Thanks. Can you tell Steven I’m okay? The criminals didn’t know I’m on the Sea Mist and I hope Interpol will keep him safe…” She prayed he was safe. “Ask him to call me at this number when he gets a chance, please.” The secretary gushed promises and sympathy but Kayla hung up still feeling rotten.
Emily tossed a logbook back in the box and said, “We all deserve a day off. Let’s go to Williamsburg and play tourist. The ship’s nearly ready to move from dry dock to the port. When passengers board we won’t have any time for ourselves. What do you say?”
Natalia grabbed Kayla’s hands. “You can’t refuse a chance to avoid reading logbooks. Come on. Let’s find something frivolous to wear, look like real tourists.”
On the drive to Williamsburg, Kayla thought about Colorado. The cottage had been safe, cozy, a perfect place to recover from her gunshot wound. Steven played the role of protector, nursing her back to health, but did Kayla really expect to live in the mountains with Steven?
Sure, it was fun to buy cute things to decorate the walls and shelves, but living in a remote mountain town was an unrealistic dream. How would Steven find work? Kayla barely made a living as a part time typist and author in Colorado. If Steven stayed with Interpol, they’d be separated. His first wife got bored, sitting alone in their Caribbean bungalow, waiting for him to visit between investigations. Did Kayla almost make the same mistake? Kayla swiped at tears trickling down her cheek. She thought Steven’s first wife had been a fool. Could Kayla’s foolishness wreck her relationship with him?
Steven loved working as an undercover Interpol agent, flitting from ship to ship. Should Kayla work for Constellation Cruise Lines on a permanent basis? She’d be part of a shipboard family and Steven could work for Interpol. They really needed to talk.
In Colonial Williamsburg the three women enjoyed a lazy afternoon wandering past refurbished brick buildings, watching costumed people recreate pre-revolutionary life, portraying slaves, parlor maids, blacksmiths, and famous characters. They ate fish and chips and drank ale in a pub while they listened to actors argue about reasons for declaring independence from Britain. They participated in a courtroom “trial” and watched a drum and fife corps march down a cobbled street playing their instruments. At the end of the afternoon they rode to the parking lot in a horse and buggy.
Kayla thought, I wonder if Steven would enjoy this or—as an Englishman—would he be insulted? I’ll have to bring him here and we can argue all the points about revolution. Her favorite character/actor was Thomas Jefferson, who delivered a witty speech and gave clever answers to modern-day questions. At the end the character agreed to stand while people “painted” their portraits with strange boxes.
Their day off was wonderful and quiet.
Embarkation day with its hectic schedule diverted Kayla’s concern over the loss of her Colorado home and threatening note to Steven. The crew assumed duties often mismatched to skills. Dancers guided passengers to cabins, waiters organized incoming luggage, and casino personnel handed out name badges.
The refurbished Sea Mist looked wonderful, docked at the Norfolk wharf awaiting passengers. She sparkled. Polished chrome accented fresh white paint and each deck was labeled with the traditional symbols of Constellation Cruise Line. The color scheme of the décor—carpet and wallpaper in colors of jewels, turquoise, sapphire, ruby, emerald, and diamond—matched the emblems on corridor walls.
It was a clever system. Staff who transferred between ships felt at home in familiar surroundings and passengers quickly identified deck locations without constant questions—at least fewer stupid questions.
Escorts shepherded arriving passengers from the airport and local hotels in minivans leased for the purpose. The system ran smoothly without major glitches and groups of passengers arrived together, herded by smiling faces, including Emily, Natalia, and Kayla.
By day’s end, Kayla’s facial muscles felt frozen into a permanent smile, faces blurred together and names escaped her memory. As she waited to greet the final group at the airport, the Constellation Cruise Lines placard she held aloft seemed to weigh a hundred pounds.
She recognized an actress walking in her direction and glanced eagerly at her clipboard. Yes! Angela Hearns, one of her favorite actresses was sailing on the Sea Mist! Good Lord! Vincent Bollard’s name also appeared on her list. Kayla’s fatigue evaporated in a wave of excitement.
Angela Hearns earned an Oscar the previous year for her role of a portly middle-aged wife pushed to the brink of insanity by a physically abusive husband. During the film her character transformed from a fainthearted mee
k victim into a savvy assertive woman. The character murdered her husband, outwitted the police, and launched a successful murder-for-hire business, soliciting abused women as clients.
The quirky role revitalized the flagging career of the aging actress, making Angela Hearns a hot commodity in Hollywood. Kayla grew up watching Angela on the big screen. She usually portrayed beautiful heroines pursued by handsome leading men. In Roman Courtship Angela was a blond cabaret singer, relentlessly pursued by a wealthy prince, played by the suave, debonair, and charming Vincent Bollard.
Angela was no longer an ultra-thin blond sex symbol who wore diamonds, furs, and designer-gowns. She now looked more like a mature Ann-Margret from the movie Grumpy Old Men. Deep cinnamon brown hair enhanced Angela’s peachy complexion. Dressed simply in an elegant blue tunic over silk pants and low-heeled suede boots, she looked chic and sexy. Fabric eased over Angela’s buxom figure in a comfortable relaxed weave, floating as she walked with a confident stride.
Offering a hand to Kayla, she said, “I’m Angela Hearns.” Her low voice, trained to project clearly, remained soft and friendly.
“Oh! Miss Hearns, I’m so pleased to escort you to the ship. Would you care to wait in the van while the other passengers arrive?”
“That’s not necessary. It feels good to stretch my legs. Oh! There’s Buster and Vincent.” Angela pointed at Vincent Bollard, accompanied by the famous director, Buster Northrup. They sauntered down the corridor surrounded by an entourage of Hollywood-types.
In contrast to Angela, Vincent Bollard looked haggard and short. About five-ten, his once-trim figure had ballooned over the years to a paunchy, thickset shape. His dark thinning hair betrayed streaks of yellowish gray, and chocolate brown eyes looked bleary with an alcoholic haze. A fan stepped forward to request an autograph.
“I don’t sign anything!” he barked. “Buster, can’t you see to this? I’m being hounded.”
Buster shrugged an apology to the fan. The director, a short man with a dark receding hairline, looked trim and fit, dressed in an expensively tailored suit. Kayla thought he resembled Bob Hoskins, the actor in Roger Rabbit. He gestured a manicured hand to his assistant, who walked along the edge of the group and deflected further autograph seekers.
In a low voice Angela said, “Buster booked this cruise. He wants us to film a sequel to Roman Courtship.”
“That sounds exciting,” Kayla said, thinking it would take real magic for Vincent Bollard to pull off a romantic lead in his condition. “I’d love to see that film.”
“Angela, darling,” Vincent Bollard rushed forward, pecking Angela’s cheek with a light kiss. “You look spectacular! It’s so good to see you after all these years. You know my wife, Paula.” He tilted his body, gesturing at the tall woman standing behind him without moving his eyes from Angela’s face.
“It’s good to meet you again, Paula.” Angela leaned around Vincent to grip Paula’s hand.
Vincent snapped, “Don’t stand there like a deaf-mute. Say something.”
Paula’s pale blue eyes blinked rapidly. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Hearns,” she mumbled.
Tall and gangly, Paula looked painfully thin with short dark hair, and tanned olive skin. Not very pretty, her face looked long and narrow with pinched squinting eyes behind overlarge glasses. Paula’s dress, constructed of expensive silk, hung limply from her skeletal figure as though it had been designed for someone twice her size. Paula retreated to the periphery of the crowd, hiding from view while her pale blue eyes watched Vincent fawn over Angela.
No one introduced the other members of the troupe, who fetched baggage, jotted notes, and scurried to fulfill demands, like worker bees buzzing around a hive.
As Kayla drove the van, she remembered an article describing Angela’s fight to conquer bulimia, an eating disorder that almost took her life. After her brush with death, Angela advocated health and fitness and accepted robust character roles. Glancing at the woman in the rearview mirror, Kayla thought that Angela looked beautiful with more weight on her frame and color in her face. Vincent’s rapacious expression and Buster’s enthralled attitude illustrated a mutual admiration for Angela. However, a glance at Paula revealed intense jealousy.
Back in her cabin, Kayla plopped onto the bed and rubbed her aching feet.
Natalia burst into the room. “I spotted her!”
“Who?”
“Our ghost, the Lady hovered around the fringes of the boarding crowd, searching for someone. I’m absolutely sure her killer will be on board ship.”
“Well, I had an interesting time. I chauffeured Angela Hearns and Vincent Bollard from the airport.”
“Really? Are they traveling as a couple? They were a hot item during the filming of some sticky-sweet romantic comedy years ago.”
“No. They’re not a couple, and Roman Courtship was not sticky-sweet!” Kayla said. “The director, Buster Northrup brought them on this cruise to convince them to film a sequel.”
Natalia examined her list. “Here they are. Vincent Bollard and his wife, Celeste sailed sixteen years ago. Angela Hearns and Buster Northrup were on the same cruise.”
“Vincent’s current wife is named Paula,” Kayla said. “I don’t see why he married her, she’s kind of mousy and he treats her like a drudge.”
“Many actors don’t want to compete with beautiful women and marry down,” Natalia said.
“We can do some celebrity-watching on this cruise. Angela Hearns was real nice but Vincent Bollard demands service and attention. He barks at anyone seeking an autograph,” Kayla said.
“I know the type, thinks he’s a god but acts like the devil.” Natalia rolled her eyes. “They’re impossible to please and horrible to work with. Speaking of work, I’d better shower and get dressed for my show.”
Kayla picked up the passenger list. They hadn’t read the logbooks from sixteen years ago. She wondered what the young Vincent Bollard and Angela Hearns, hot off a romantic film, were like at that time. The press probably followed their every move.
That night she slept fitfully, dreaming of film stars followed by swarms of paparazzi and fans. Everywhere she turned a famous face grinned at her, dropped dead at her feet, and then turned into a phantom. She felt grateful to wake on a ship with only one ghost.
Emily joined Kayla for breakfast in the crew mess. Natalia slept late, having performed two shows the evening before. “What’s up?” Kayla asked.
“Why should anything be up?” Emily responded.
Kayla poured coffee into Emily’s cup and passed the cream. “You look ready to explode.”
Glancing suspiciously around the room, Emily nodded. “I’ve heard from headquarters. The Board of Directors scheduled a meeting to discuss the problems onboard the Sea Mist.”
“That’s not surprising. There’s probably a corporate spy on board.”
“I thought I could pick a loyal crew and John…Captain Swenson recommended officers he knew personally. I feel like a bad judge of character.”
Kayla sipped her coffee. “A good spy is cagey. He’s a pro and only loyal to his money. Next time he’d do the same job for you.”
“This means we’ve got to make some headway on this cruise. I’m likely to be looking for another job if we don’t.”
Glancing at her watch, Kayla said, “I’d better meet our passengers.” She picked up her clipboard. “I’m doing interviews for the ship’s newsletter. Someone should remember a murder on their first cruise.” She grinned.
Emily made a shooing motion with her hand. “You go ahead, I’ll be on the bridge talking with the captain about our spy.”
In the passenger’s dining room, Kayla roamed from table to table without uncovering any good information. Feeling disappointed, she approached three couples and greeted them with a friendly, “Hello. I’m Kayla Sanders. I’m writing a piece for the ship’s newsletter.” Smiles and nods encouraged her to continue. “Since everyone aboard previously sailed on the Sea Mist, I’m trying to uncover speci
al stories to include in my article. Can you tell me anything unusual about your last trip?”
Waiters hustled past the table with platters of hot food, steaming carafes of coffee, and tubs of dirty dishes. Sunlight streamed through the large dining room windows, reflecting off white linen tablecloths and silver service.
Freshly baked sweet rolls, crispy bacon, stacks of pancakes, and waffles piled with berries and real whipped cream arrived as she sat down. Tantalizing aromas tempted Kayla’s taste buds. “I’ve already eaten. You go ahead,” she said, waving the waiter away after he poured her a cup of coffee. Hot steam caressed her cheeks as she savored the mellow chicory flavor.
The woman sitting across the table gestured with her fork. “We had a startling experience on our first trip, but I’m not sure it’s fit to print. A woman committed suicide.” Her rosy cheeks paled as she remembered the incident with displeasure. “She was a teacher, traveling with her sister. Evidently, she got depressed over a bad love affair and jumped overboard our second night out. The ship turned around, searched the water for hours, but she was gone—just like that.” The passenger snapped her fingers.
Kayla nearly choked. Her cup clattered against the saucer as she fumbled for her list. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name.”
“Mary Rush.” The woman nodded at her companion. “This is my husband, Jim.”
Kayla found their names on her list. “You sailed with us ten years ago?”
“Sounds right,” Jim said. “The incident shocked everyone. We’d met the woman and her sister the night before—name of Jaspers I believe—they were from Atlanta.”
Kayla spotted the name on her list. You’re right. Her sister, Annabelle Jaspers is sailing with us again.”
“Mary’s eyes widened. “Why would Annabelle want to come back? She seemed so upset.”