by Diane Rapp
“Then we need to figure out who did kill her before she goes insane. You saw what she did on the pier. I’m sure she’s capable of sinking this ship to inflict revenge.”
Swenson scowled. “I’d like to put your ghost into the brig. If I knew who killed her, I’d throw them overboard without a second thought. How do we secure the ship against a danger we can’t even see?”
Steven stood. “We’ll talk with Vincent.”
“I’ll back you up lad,” Swenson said.
“No. It’s less threatening if Kayla and I speak with him. If we need your help, we’ll call.”
Swenson’s eyes narrowed but he nodded. “Talk to him—quietly—but if he gives you any trouble it would give me satisfaction to toss someone in the brig.”
Steven paused at the door. “Did you find out anything about our attacker?”
Swenson shook his head. “No new crew boarded in Bermuda and there’s no evidence of who tampered with the lifeboat winch. We lashed the lifeboat in place until we can dismantle the whole mechanism for proper repairs in Gibralter.”
“How about the phone records? Who made calls?” Kayla asked.
Swenson frowned. “A few passengers placed calls to the States but no one phoned the Azores, except on official ship business. Your man may have a satellite phone.”
Steven nodded. “That makes sense. We’ll talk to Vincent and report back.”
As they headed to see Bollard, Kayla asked, “What do we say? We can’t ask Vincent if he killed his first wife and took a shot at his second wife.”
Steven nodded. “We’ll discuss Paula, maybe it will get him talking.”
The door sprung open at Steven’s knock. Vincent stood grinning with a champagne glass in his hand. “Angela, you’re late—” His dark eyes turned angry as he focused on Kayla and Steven. “What are you doing here?” he growled. “You were the people who took Paula ashore!”
Kayla said, “Yes. Buster asked us to take Paula off the ship to keep her away from reporters.”
Glowering, Vincent gestured them inside. “Is she safely tucked away?”
Seeing the elaborate table setting, champagne, candles, and covered dining plates, Steven said, “Paula will spend the night at a resort outside the city, but she’ll return before we sail tomorrow.”
Vincent said, “Why bother? Let her have fun wracking up charges on my credit card.”
Kayla moved to the sofa. “Paula claimed you were both playing a game, and you’ll get back together at the game’s end.”
“A game?” Vincent laughed. “But why should that surprise me? Paula loves creating scenarios, thinks she’s an actress, and wants us to cast her as my leading lady. Believe me, I wouldn’t play any kind of game with her, and I never intend to reunite! Tell her that for me.”
Steven stared at Vincent for a long, awkward moment. “Someone took a shot at Paula outside the bar last night. Was it you?”
“What?”
“You must have heard about the attack.” Kayla said, “Paula thinks you tried to kill her.”
“Boy! She’s really something!” Vincent rubbed a hand across his face and sat down. “I hate guns! They give me the creeps, even when I fire stage pistols in a movie.” He looked up with a weary expression. “I don’t own a gun.”
Steven said, “Mr. Bollard, your room steward discovered a gun in your cabin this morning. It had just been cleaned.”
“That’s impossible!” Vincent paced the room. “Someone’s trying to frame me.”
Steven added, “The captain seized the weapon for ballistics testing.”
“That gun was planted I tell you. It’s not mine.”
He sounded sincere, believable. Kayla had to remind herself that Vincent Bollard made his living convincing audiences his feelings were genuine.
Hearing a knock at the door, Vincent said, “My guest has arrived, so I’ll ask you to leave.”
Angela swept into the suite dressed in a turquoise silk pantsuit. At the sight of the room’s occupants, she froze. “Vincent, why are they here?” she asked.
“We’re leaving,” Steven said as he and Kayla walked to the door. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Bollard.”
As she reached the door, Kayla felt a familiar chill. Would the ghost strike again? No. Celeste just wants one question answered. She turned to Vincent and asked softly, “Did you love Celeste?”
Sucking in a sharp breath, Vincent’s eyes widened and the corner of his mouth twitched. “You have no right to ask . . . I know . . . Paula put you up to this!” His voice sounded rough, angry. “I loved Celeste more than I loved anyone in my life! Paula used Celeste’s death to manipulate me, to make my life a living hell! I’ve had enough! Tell Paula it won’t work this time!”
The scent of lavender tinged the air, but Kayla experienced no vision shift, no disorientation as she stared into Vincent’s angry eyes. She said, “Paula didn’t get me to ask about Celeste. It was my own idea.”
Vincent blinked and gazed at the ceiling. “This needs to end. I’ll accept whatever happens . . . well . . . Tell Paula I’m willing to face the consequences so she can’t push me around anymore. She’d better stay away if she knows what’s good for her!”
Vincent slammed the door and the small hairs on Kayla’s neck prickled. A sense of foreboding overwhelmed her. She leaned into Steven and he curled a protective arm over her shoulder.
“Doesn’t sound like he’s playing games!” Steven said.
“I wonder what he means by he’s ‘willing to face the consequences?’” Kayla said. “Is it a threat?”
Back at Emily’s suite, they found her sitting alone. She said, “Jason left this note for you. He’s making progress meeting the staff and checking schedules.”
As Steven read Jason’s note, Kayla described their theory about the smuggling ring using garbage dumps to deliver contraband.
“Most of the kitchen staff served on other ships in the Mediterranean. Word got out that we were hiring and people applied from other cruise lines. It’s possible the smugglers infiltrated the staff.”
“How much to you know about your chef?” Kayla asked.
Emily frowned. “We’re lucky to get a man of his caliber. Evidently he was unhappy in his last position, sought us out, and encouraged other experienced personnel to join him.”
Steven finished reading and rubbed his chin with the folded paper. “Where did your chief steward come from?”
“Jean-Claude? He’s the only French officer who remained with us from the last crew. He was eager to stay onboard when we bought the ship and speaks excellent English.”
“Tell us about the other officers.”
Emily said, “We transferred officers from our other ships—career men, familiar with company policies, and completely trustworthy. Captain Swenson retired five years ago from a Norwegian cruise line, and ran a small company for his wife’s family until she died six months ago. There was a nasty dispute among his wife’s family over money and they took the business out from under him. He applied for the job and we felt lucky to gain an experienced officer familiar with Mediterranean waters.”
“Good. If Swenson’s just returning to sea duty, he couldn’t be our man.” Steven stuffed Jason’s note into his pocket. “Jason can ferret out the culprit.”
Emily sighed with relief. “I was afraid you were asking because . . . well . . . the way Kayla described the scheme, Captain Swenson could have been involved.”
Steven shook his head. “The smuggling operation’s been in full swing for several years, so Swenson wasn’t around. Frankly, I’m happy to hear it. I like the man and wouldn’t want to consider him a suspect.”
“Do you suspect my chef?” Emily asked in a distressed tone. “He prepares the best cuisine, and a food critique is ready to publish a favorable article about the Sea Mist. We just can’t lose him now.”
“I don’t think it’s him. Our man must remain inconspicuous.” Steven smiled in Kayla’s direction. “Can you imagine a head
chef tossing out packages with the garbage without everyone noticing?”
“Why did you ask about the other officers?”
“It’s possible our culprit is working with a confederate, someone who’s had access to the ship’s radio equipment.”
Emily nodded. “Captain Swenson discovered no unusual calls to shore.”
“A clever man would disguise a message to sound like official ship’s business. That’s why I’m relieved to know Captain Swenson’s not a suspect. Our list of suspects is short.”
“The first mate, chief purser, radio officers, and boatswain all regularly communicate with shore,” Kayla said. “Should we ask Captain Swenson to check into their activities?”
Steven shook his head. “He inquired about messages but if the captain took more interest in their activities, our man could get nervous and ditch the whole operation. We need proof.”
“What kind of proof?” Emily asked.
“A signed confession would be nice, barring that, we need a link to our smugglers on shore. There must be regular communication to offload the cargo.”
Emily nodded. “I’m on the bridge every day. I could watch activity and ferret out information.”
Steven frowned. “I don’t like you placing yourself in danger, since this group doesn’t mind killing.”
“This is my company!” Emily’s gaze turned steely. “If these crooks are working aboard CCL ships, I need to stop them. I can read lips, so I’ll snoop without anyone knowing.”
“Okay. If there’s any sign of trouble, just promise you’ll contact Jason or myself.” Steven sighed. “I don’t want anything to happen to another friend.”
Emily squeezed his hand. “I promise.”
He kissed her cheek. “Be careful.”
Back in their cabin, Steven called the hotel and spoke to Natalia. “My mobile seems to work while we’re in port. Take this number down and call if anything happens on your end. We’ll see you in the morning.”
Kayla felt edgy, wondering if it was safe for Emily to snoop on the bridge. Dealing with an angry ghost felt safer than confronting armed crooks—after all, the ghost was helpful until she flew into a crazy rage.
She remembered the expressions on the paparazzi as they fled the pier. If anyone deserved a maniacal phantom on their tails, it was the paparazzi. Did Paula lie about playing games or was it Vincent? I don’t feel sorry for either of them. Steven fidgeted, picking up a logbook, then setting it down unread. He must feel upset—he’s already lost one friend—and now he’s forced to sit idle while Jason and Emily risk their lives.
As if her thoughts spurred him, Steven stood. “I can’t stand waiting! I’m going to the port authority and see if Interpol faxed pictures of that custom’s chap.”
“You want some company?”
Steven pulled Kayla to her feet. “Of course! If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have hatched a new theory about the crime. You make an excellent partner.”
His kiss became long and passionate. Kayla broke away and gasped. “Keep that up and we’ll never get to the port authority.”
Checking his watch, Steven grinned. “They’ll be open in the morning.”
“Good!” Kayla pulled him down onto the bed. “I’ve got to rid myself of some pent-up energy and you’re the perfect target.”
“Shoot away, darling. I can take it.”
Chapter 11 ~ Attack on Paula
Ring, ring! Ring, ring!
Kayla could never get used to the blaring double ring of European telephones. She grabbed Steven’s cell phone and said, “Hello,” in a grumpy, sleepy voice. Steven slept soundly beside her. They experienced no trouble boarding the ship last night and enjoyed a blissful evening alone.
“Paula’s gone!” Natalia sounded distraught.
Kayla bolted upright, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “What?”
“She left the hotel early this morning while I was sleeping. I didn’t hear her leave and I couldn’t find her in the dining room. When I asked the desk clerk, he told me she checked out, paid for the room, and left orders for the maids to let me sleep.”
Kayla checked her watch. “It’s nearly ten o’clock. She might be back onboard by now.”
Natalia said, “We watched the news last night about the commotion at the dock, and we both laughed at the reporters being tossed around. When she spotted Vincent and Angela standing at the rail, she got furious. I tried to make her laugh it off but she sulked the rest of the evening. She’s acting crazy and it might get her killed.”
Kayla nudged Steven who rolled over grumbling. “Grab a taxi and get back as soon as possible. If Paula makes a scene, Vincent’s in no mood to humor her.”
“I’m waiting for a cab now, but I wanted to call and warn you before Paula makes the situation worse,” Natalia said.
“Meet us at the pool when you get back—I bet Vincent will be there. Bye.” Kayla disconnected and shook Steven. “You awake?”
“No,” he mumbled and Kayla pulled off the bedcovers. “Okay, I’m up! What’s Paula done now?” He sat up, rubbed his scalp with one hand and his sleepy eyes with the other.
“She skipped out on Natalia early this morning. Evidently they saw Vincent and Angela on the news last night and Paula’s furious.”
“Blast! I wanted another half-day before the fireworks started. I’m knackered. Can we get some breakfast?”
“There’s no time. Paula could already be back on the ship.” Kayla tugged on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
“Do I have time for a shower?” Steven asked.
“Yeah, I’ll go check Paula’s room and told Natalia to meet us at the pool.” She brushed her hair and tied her ponytail with a scrunchy.
“Okay. I’ll order tea and biscuits from the steward at the pool.” Steven headed into the bathroom.
“Order coffee for me with plenty of cream and sugar.” Kayla blinked as she dabbed mascara onto her lashes. “I hope Vincent gets up late.”
Steven turned on the shower but poked his head around the bathroom door as she finished her lip gloss. “Give us a kiss before you go, luv.”
Trying to slip a sandal on, Kayla hopped over and kissed him. “See you at the pool!”
He rubbed lip gloss from his mouth and grinned. “I’ll be there, soon as I wake up.”
The corridor felt chilly. Kayla detected the scent of lavender and muttered at the ceiling, “Not this morning, Celeste! I don’t have time for visions if we want to stop a murder.” Marching down the hall, her arms swinging, Kayla said, “Damn that Paula! Why couldn’t she stay put?”
A few minutes later Kayla pounded on Paula’s door. The room steward poked his head into the hallway from another cabin. “She’s gone, got in about half-nine and left straight away.”
Kayla looked at her watch. If she left at 9:30 she’s got a thirty-five minute head start on me. “Which way did she go?”
The steward said, “She looked ready to smash some bloke square in the face, so I kept clear. She headed up them stairs.” He pointed.
“Great!” Kayla’s stomach churned. “If you see her come back, could you page me on the pool deck?” She wrote her name on a paper towel from his cleaning cart and handed it to the steward.
Reading the paper, he said, “No problem, Kayla Sanders, happy to help.” His wide grin sparkled against his dark skin.
Kayla swiftly covered the distance to the staircase and climbed the steps two-at-a-time. The pool deck was already packed with passengers who sipped coffee, munched breakfast rolls, and checked their watches impatiently. They wore broad-rimmed hats, brightly flowered shirts, baggy shorts, and cameras dangled from their necks.
“Would the group on Tour A please follow me?” a pretty shore excursion director said, waving an orange clipboard over her head.
Standing against the rail to avoid the stampede, Kayla scanned the crowd. She couldn’t see Paula. To Kayla’s relief Vincent and Angela were not there either. Had Paula gone to Vincent’s room? She h
eard the ding of the elevator and dashed inside. As the elevator doors slid open, she found a body on the floor.
Kayla couldn’t breathe.
Frozen in place, she stared until the elevator doors started to slide shut. She jammed her hand into the opening and hoped the automatic sensor worked. The rubber on the door bumped her hand and the door jolted open with a loud ding. Kayla stepped inside and heard a faint moan.
Gently she turned the body over and saw the woman’s bloody face. Blue eyes fluttered open and a hand clawed at Kayla’s arm. “Paula!” Kayla cried. “What happened?”
“A woman attacked me,” Paula groaned. “Help me get out of here!” She tried to sit up, but her eyes rolled back and her body went limp.
“Paula! Wake up!”
The doors shut and the elevator rumbled. Rubbing Paula’s cold hand, Kayla smelled a flowery perfume in the enclosed space. The scent seemed vaguely familiar but Kayla just felt grateful it wasn’t lavender. The doors opened and a white-haired woman stared down at Kayla holding Paula’s bloody head off the floor.
Kayla said, “Call the doctor. This woman’s injured and we need help right away.” The old woman nodded but didn’t move. Kayla wiped blood on her white T-shirt and reached toward the elevator phone.
The old woman crumpled.
“Damn!” Kayla punched the “emergency” on the phone and thrust her leg out to keep the elevator door open. “Hurry up and answer!” she shouted into the phone.
“What’s the nature of your emergency?” a lethargic male voice answered.
“I’ve got two unconscious women in the aft elevator on deck four, one is bleeding and the other might be having a heart attack.”
“Stay where you are ma’am. I’ll send security and the doctor straight away. Please remain calm.”
“How can I remain calm?” Kayla screamed. “You get down here and remain calm!”
“Yes ma’am, right away ma’am.”
The voice from the telephone paged the doctor over the loudspeaker and soon footsteps thudded down the staircase. The sound matched the pounding of Kayla’s heart as she sprawled on the floor between the two women, afraid to move. She blamed herself for the entire mess.