Overboard on the Ocean

by Ellen Jacobson

  “Mollie, what are you doing here?” Sylvia asked.

  “Anthony and Madison are worried sick about you.” I turned to the captain. “Those buffoons guarding your office wouldn’t let them in. You should be ashamed of yourself, separating a distraught widow from her family.”

  The captain glanced at the door to his office. “But I didn’t—”

  “Save it. I don’t want to hear another word out of you,” I motioned to the captain to move over on the couch, then squeezed in between him and Sylvia. “How are you doing?” I asked her.

  “As well as can be expected, I guess,” she said. “I think I’m still in shock. Do you know that I haven’t cried once?”

  “Grief hits us in the strangest ways,” I said.

  The captain cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, who exactly are you?”

  “Mollie McGhie,” I said, turning to fix my gaze on him. “Don’t make me show you my badge again.”

  Sylvia furrowed her brow. “Badge?”

  “That’s not important. What’s important is if they’re treating you okay. Have they given you anything to eat or drink?”

  She pointed at her teacup. “Earl Grey.”

  “What about a lawyer?”

  “Why would I need a lawyer?”

  “Because they’re interrogating you. They’re trampling all over your rights.”

  “This isn’t an interrogation,” the captain said. “I simply asked Mrs. Tolliver a few questions about her husband. Then she started telling me stories about her time as a magician’s assistant.”

  “I’ve probably bored him silly. But it’s been such a lovely distraction. I haven’t had to think about what happened until now.” As Sylvia took a sip of her tea, a lone tear fell down her cheek. “Where did you say Anthony was?”

  “He’s in the lounge with Madison.”

  Sylvia set her cup on the table and stood. “I think I’ll go find him. I’ll need his help making arrangements.”

  “Here, let me go with you,” I offered.

  “No, I’d rather go by myself.” Sylvia kissed the captain on the cheek and thanked him for his hospitality.

  After she left, I grilled the captain. “I assume you’ve recovered Fletcher’s body, correct?”

  “I can’t comment on that,” he said.

  “What about the murder investigation? I assume you’ve examined the scene of the crime. What clues have you found?”

  “Ma’am, it was most likely an accident,” he said crisply. “Not murder.”

  “But my husband and I heard him arguing with someone. Fletcher was pushed overboard.”

  “According to his wife, he was drinking heavily. It wouldn’t be the first time someone who was drunk fell to their death on a cruise ship.” The captain looked at me thoughtfully. “Or it could have been suicide. Do you know of any reason why Mr. Tolliver would have killed himself?”

  “Fletcher was too full of himself to even consider taking his life. But I think there’s at least one person who would have wished him dead.”

  * * *

  “Who exactly did you say you are?” The captain asked.

  “I’m a friend of Sylvia’s.”

  “If you really are her friend, then I’d advise you to keep this idea that her husband was murdered to yourself. She’s dealing with enough. The last thing she needs is for someone to suggest there was foul play. It would traumatize her unnecessarily.”

  “But don’t you think it’s possible that someone killed Fletcher?”

  “Murder on a cruise ship? The idea is preposterous.” The captain narrowed his eyes. “And if I hear you’ve been spreading rumors to that effect . . .” his voice trailed off, leaving the rest of his threat unsaid.

  “Oh, I see what’s going on,” I said. “This isn’t about Sylvia. This is about protecting the cruise line’s reputation. You don’t want to lose future bookings when word gets out that someone was killed on your watch.”

  The captain stood. “I think it’s time you left.”

  As he escorted me to the door, I asked why he had guards outside his office. “What are you afraid of?”

  “Guards? What guards?” When he saw crew cut guy and goatee guy struggling to put the statue back on its pedestal, the captain sighed. “Oh, those two. They aren’t guards. I told them to wait outside my office so that I could speak with them about an operational issue.”

  “Then why did they try to keep people out of your office?”

  “Because they’re idiots.”

  He had a point. The two self-appointed guards had managed to place the statue back in place. Only now they were trying to decide if they could use duct tape to reattach an arm that had broken off.

  While the captain dealt with his two crewmen, I headed to the restaurant in search of some caffeine.

  Scooter was sitting at a table with Ned and Nancy. He waved at me, then held up his coffee cup, indicating that it was empty. Ned and Nancy spotted me, but shook their heads when I mimed getting them coffee as well.

  I grabbed two cups from the beverage station and filled them up, adding double the usual amount of sugar to them. It had been a long night, and my body was crying out for an energy boost. Then I spotted a tray of brownies on the buffet. Chocolate and sugar together in one delectable morsel? Yes, please. This is what makes cruises so enjoyable—delicious snacks twenty-four hours a day.

  I placed two brownies on a plate, then added a couple of slices of pie and a few donuts for good measure. A waitress came to my rescue when she saw me struggling to balance my tray and walk at the same time.

  “Here, let me help you with that, ma’am.” She expertly placed the tray on her shoulder.

  Her soft Bahamian accent and intricately braided hair were familiar. “Weren’t you working at the casino earlier tonight? Or was that last night? What time is it, anyway?”

  “It’s four-thirty, ma’am.”

  “In the morning?” She nodded. “So, it’s tomorrow. Or rather today.” I rubbed my eyes. “It’s like I have jet lag. I can’t stay up all night like I could when I was younger.”

  As we walked toward the table, I asked her what she knew about Fletcher’s death.

  “Such a tragedy.” Her face clouded. “We’re not supposed to talk about it. Captain’s orders.”

  “I was with the captain discussing what happened just moments ago. I’m sure he would be fine if we discussed it.”

  She shifted the tray she was carrying. “Really?”

  “Of course. You were serving Fletcher at the casino last night. You’re a key witness to what transpired.”

  “I am?”

  “Definitely. How did Fletcher seem to you? Did you notice anything unusual?”

  “The gentleman seemed to be enjoying himself,” she said diplomatically.

  “That’s one way of putting it,” I said wryly.

  “I already told my manager everything I know.” The waitress set the tray on the table. “I’m sorry, but I really need to help set up the breakfast buffet before it gets busy.”

  As she bustled off, I handed Scooter his coffee. Noting the dark circles under his eyes, I asked how he was doing. “Maybe you should try to get some sleep.”

  “At this point, I might as well stay up,” he said. “What about you? You didn’t take a very long nap.”

  “No, I couldn’t sleep.”

  “I have a meditation app you could try,” Scooter suggested.

  “I use one of those occasionally when I’m having insomnia,” Ned said.

  Nancy peered at Ned over her reading glasses. “Only weak-willed people need help falling asleep. I simply tell myself that it’s time to go to bed, and I’m instantly asleep. I’ve told you a million times, it’s a matter of self-discipline.”

  “Not everyone is as regimented as you are, Nancy,” I said. “And it’s no surprise that I couldn’t sleep. We witnessed someone plummeting to their . . .” I glanced at Scooter who was calmly sipping his coffee.

  “It’s okay,” h
e said. “You can say it out loud.”

  I pushed a brownie toward him. “Are you sure?”

  “Fletcher fell to his death,” Scooter said, ignoring the brownie. “It was an accident.”

  “Accident? No way. I can understand the captain trying to convince himself that it was an accident or suicide, but you were there. You and I both heard Fletcher arguing with someone. It was definitely murder.”

  “You didn’t tell us you were there when he died,” Ned said.

  “You didn’t mention that?” I asked Scooter. “What in the world have you guys been talking about?”

  “We’ve been discussing the fundraiser at the Yacht Club,” Scooter said. “Nancy is in charge of the event. She’s been showing us her project plan.”

  Nancy held up her tablet, showing me the colorful spreadsheet that she had created.

  “I told you she was organized,” Ned said to me. “You should let her help with the bachelorette party.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Do you even have a project plan?” Nancy asked.

  I pulled a notebook out of my purse. “It’s all in here.”

  Nancy scoffed. “There’s a spaceship, unicorns, and gnomes on the cover. You can’t plan a party properly in something like that.”

  “You can if you have these.” I showed her my collection of glitter pens, washi tape, and cat stickers, which I had used to jazz up the pages.

  Ned seemed interested in the pens, but Nancy told him they would create a mess. “Stick with normal ballpoint pens, dear.”

  “What are the two of you doing up so early, anyway?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Nancy said.

  “Which means no one could sleep,” Ned muttered under his breath.

  I grinned mischievously. “Didn’t you just finish telling us how it was a matter of self-discipline.”

  She scowled. “The sheets are a very poor quality. They’re scratchy and hadn’t been ironed. No one could sleep in those sheets. Wait until I see the captain and tell him about it.”

  “I think the captain will be busy today. I could loan you one of my pens so you could fill out a comment card instead,” I suggested.

  “Speaking of the captain, you mentioned something about him saying that Fletcher’s death was accidental,” Scooter said. “When did you see him?”

  “I just came from there. Anthony and Madison were worried sick about Sylvia. She had been in the captain’s office ever since she found out about her husband’s death. I told them that that I’d check on her.”

  “She was with the captain this whole time?” Ned cocked his head to one side. “If he was questioning her for that long, maybe there was foul play.”

  I leaned forward, glad that someone believed murder was a plausible explanation. “Fletcher’s death happened when we were in international waters, right? What does that mean for jurisdiction? Who’s responsible for investigating?”

  “Those are all very good questions.” Ned grabbed his wife’s tablet. “Let’s see what we can find out.”

  “We don’t have cell phone coverage.” Nancy plucked her tablet out of his grasp. “And we’re not paying the exorbitant rates the cruise ship charges to connect to their WiFi.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Ned conceded.

  Nancy looked at Scooter. “You’re in telecommunications. How come it costs so much to use WiFi at sea?”

  He held up his hands. “Not really my department.”

  “Did anyone notice that the ship isn’t moving?” I asked. “When did that happen? How come I didn’t notice that before?”

  “They would have stopped the boat to search for Fletcher once the crew was alerted,” Ned said. “I wonder if we’ll continue to the Bahamas or return to the States.”

  I looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s already after five. Other passengers are going to wake up soon and wonder what’s going on.”

  “I’m sure they’ll make an announcement in due course,” Nancy said.

  The four of us sat quietly for a while. Nancy worked on her project plan, Scooter and Ned polished off the pie, and I ate all the brownies while I stared out the window. When I glanced back at the clock to see what time it was, I noticed framed pictures of islands in the Bahamas on the wall.

  “I think I have an idea for Anabel’s bachelorette party,” I said.

  “What’s that, my little . . .” Scooter shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t think of a new pet name.”

  “I have some ideas,” Nancy said.

  Ned, wisely sensing that perhaps Nancy’s pet names for me wouldn’t be very flattering, chimed in. “What’s your idea, Mollie?”

  “We could sail to Destiny Key and have the party there. The island isn’t that far from Coconut Cove.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Scooter said. “We haven’t taken Marjorie Jane out of the marina in a while. I’d love to get back out on the water.”

  “Sorry, it’s girls only.”

  “You can’t fit everyone on your boat,” Nancy said. “If you had a project plan, you’d know that.”

  “Well, I was thinking Penny could take her boat as well. Between the two of us, we can ferry everyone to the island.”

  “There’s another flaw in your plan.” Nancy looked almost gleeful. “You need to set up for the party in advance. How are you going to do that if you’re sailing half the guests over on your boat?”

  “There’s an easy solution to that,” Scooter said. “Why don’t the guys go over earlier on Ben’s boat and get everything ready. Then we’ll make ourselves scarce once you ladies get there.”

  Ned’s eyes lit up at the prospect. “Count me in.”

  “See, Nancy,” I said. “Everything is figured out for the party and I didn’t need a project plan.”

  A frail voice behind me said, “How can you think about a party at a time like this?”

  Turning, I saw Madison clutching her box of tissues in her hands. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Anthony was standing behind her, a worried look on his face.

  I started to apologize, but Madison cut me off. “Someone murdered Fletcher and you want to celebrate?”

  Scooter cleared his throat. “I thought it was an accident.”

  “We just came from the captain’s office,” Anthony said. “It was definitely murder.”

  6

  My Little Sexadecimal

  I took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Oh, my gosh. I was right. It was murder.”

  “That isn’t the type of thing you want to be right about,” Scooter said quietly to me. Then he turned to Madison and Anthony. “Grab a seat. I’ll get you some coffee.”

  “Herbal tea for me, please,” Madison said. “My nerves can’t take the caffeine.”

  “What about you?” Scooter asked Anthony.

  Anthony pulled a chair out for his girlfriend. “Strong and black, please.”

  While Scooter went to grab their drinks, I introduced everyone.

  “Ah, yes, Herbert told me about the two of you,” Anthony said to Ned and Nancy. “You own the marina in Coconut Cove.”

  “Are the two of you sailors?” Ned asked.

  “Heavens, no,” Madison said. “I’m scared to death of the water. Besides, I get terrible seasickness.”

  “Fortunately, cruise ships are so big and have stabilizing systems that seasickness isn’t typically a problem,” Ned said. “I guess that’s one advantage of them over smaller boats.”

  “It’s always cracked me up that you’d have to wear bathing suits in beauty pageants, but you’ve never actually been swimming,” Anthony said.

  “I don’t think they have the girls in beauty pageants wear bikinis, because they expect them to swim,” Nancy said dryly. “I think it’s more for the judges. The male judges, that is.”

  “Oh, no, we didn’t wear bikinis,” Madison said. “Only one-pieces. It was all very modest.”

  Nancy shook her head. “I bet y
ou wore high heels with your modest swimsuits too.”

  “Of course,” Madison said. “Heels are great for posture. You carry yourself better when you wear them.”

  While Nancy muttered something about sensible shoes and her bunions, Scooter set steaming mugs in front of Anthony and Madison. “I brought some Danish pastries too. They’ll start serving a full breakfast soon, but I thought you might be hungry now.”

  “Thank you. That was very sweet of you.” Madison batted her long eyelashes at Scooter. I’m not sure it had the effect she was going for with all the mascara and eyeliner smeared under her eyes. “But I’ll pass. We girls have to watch our figures.”

  I looked down at my belly, shrugged, then grabbed Madison’s pastry.

  Scooter sat next to me, then asked Anthony and Madison how they knew that Fletcher had been murdered.

  “They recovered his body,” Anthony said matter-of-factly.

  “They could tell from the body that it was homicide?” I asked.

  Anthony looked blankly at me for a moment, and Madison jumped in. “Yes, of course. It was obvious.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Did you see his body?”

  Madison and Anthony exchanged glances. Madison started to say something, but Anthony put his hand on hers. “No, we didn’t. We overheard one of the stewards say something to the captain about it.”

  Madison nodded. “Yes, that’s what happened.”

  “The news was too much for my aunt to bear,” Anthony said.

  “Should she be by herself at a time like this?” Ned asked.

  “She asked that we give her some space,” Anthony said. “The ship’s doctor gave her a sedative. She’s resting comfortably in her cabin.”

  After wiping icing off my fingers with a napkin, I asked Anthony and Madison if they had any theories as to who killed Fletcher.

  “You don’t need to answer,” Nancy said. “Mollie is just being nosy. She’s been involved in so many murder investigations in Coconut Cove that she thinks she’s some sort of private investigator.”