by Cindy Sample
“My husband doesn’t want me to do anything dangerous, but he said I could wander around flaunting this bracelet, hoping to pick up a lead somehow.”
“I agree with Tom. One bump on the noggin is sufficient for you on this trip. Does Tom think whoever killed Sanjay also did away with Nicole?”
I shrugged. “That’s one possibility. Unfortunately, there are many others.”
Sierra warned me to be careful then led me backstage, where the activity could best be described as chaotic.
Elizabeth Axelgard, the singer who had taken Nicole’s place, stood next to Seth, the understudy now cast as Danny Zuko. The previous lead had flown back home to get new dental veneers put in. This show had turned out to be a terrific opportunity for both understudies. I studied the woman now playing the role of Sandy. Was she desperate enough to throw Nicole over her balcony railing to get the part?
Or was I so desperate to find the murderer that I was seeing killers at every corner?
While Sierra searched for Zac, I ambled over to the two lead singers. “I’m looking forward to the show tonight.” I put my hand out to shake each of theirs, wondering if they would notice my diamond bracelet.
Elizabeth and Seth each shook my hand, mumbled their thanks, ignored my glittering accessory, and went back to their scripts. So much for my subtle sleuthing.
I wandered off hoping to find Stan. I hadn’t laid eyes on my friend for almost two days. I finally found him leaning against one of the show’s props––a full-scale jalopy. At least, the front half of one.
This cruise line certainly did not stint on its sets.
I walked up behind Stan and tapped him on his leather-jacketed shoulder. He jumped, twirled and landed in a pose that screamed “bad-ass wannabe.”
I would have rolled my eyes but Stan needed my support, and I needed his skill set. I was certain that in the short amount of time Stan had been practicing with the dance crew, that he would rival TMZ when it came to cruise gossip.
“You look great,” I said. “Just like one of the guys in the gang.”
His eyes lit up. “I do?”
Not really, since he would be the first kid at Ryder High with a receding hairline. But from a distance, most passengers wouldn’t notice.
“What are you doing backstage?” he asked.
“I wanted to wish you good luck.”
“Thanks, I’ll need it. This routine is harder than I realized when I was watching rehearsals earlier in the week.”
“I have confidence in you.” I reached up and rearranged the collar of his jacket. He grabbed my wrist and appraised my new trinket.
“Whoa. Those are some diamonds. Did Tom win a jackpot in the casino?”
“I wish.” I placed the tip of my finger on his lips. “This is confidential, but Tom and I found this bracelet in Nicole’s cabin. Did you ever see her wearing it?”
Stan examined the bracelet more closely. “I suppose she might have worn it at the opening show. She wore that long red sequin gown for the final number. Maybe her sugar daddy gave it to her. I wonder why she didn’t take it with her when she took off.”
“I’m about to share something with you, but if you repeat it to anyone,” I shook my finger at him, “I will tell Zac about our trip to Hawaii and your time with the Samoan dancers.”
Stan’s light gray eyes turned a terrified charcoal. He lifted his right hand. “Scouts honor. Tell all.”
“There are signs of a struggle in Nicole’s room including bloodstains on the bedspread. Plus all her personal items, her wallet and passport are still in the safe.”
“So you think someone kidnapped her?”
“Worse. Nicole may be the person I saw go overboard.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Stan’s eyes popped open so wide he looked like an oversized Jiminy Cricket clad in a black leather jacket.
“OMG times ten,” he exclaimed. “What are we going to do now?”
“You are doing nothing except sharing any gossip you’ve heard about Nicole. You mentioned a sugar daddy. Do you know who he is?”
Stan pursed his lips and pondered. “I went to congratulate Zac backstage that first night and walked right past Nicole. Other than telling her that her performance was awesome, we didn’t chat. But I remember Elizabeth complaining when Nicole didn’t show for rehearsal the next day that the only reason Nicole got the starring role in Grease was that she slept her way to the top.”
I frowned. “Top of what? The stage? The ship? Zac?”
“Puh-leeze. Honestly, I really don’t know. I didn’t want to pry.”
“Since when?” I asked him. He merely shrugged.
“Let’s ask Elizabeth,” I said. “She might know the boyfriend’s name.”
We scooted around a couple of workers and ran into Sierra and Zac in a heated discussion.
“What’s the matter?” I asked them.
“I know you told me to keep quiet about Nicole, but I felt Zac needed to know. What if one of the performers killed her?” Sierra asked. “Do you think we should disclose to the cast what happened so they can stay alert?”
The bristles of Zac’s blond hair stood straight up like rows of dominoes. “You can’t do that before the show. It would be a complete disaster.”
I stepped between them. “I agree with Zac. The performance is important to this troupe. In the meantime, maybe you,” I nudged Sierra, “and Zac and Stan can keep an eye on everyone. I’ll ask Tom if and when he thinks Nicole’s situation should be disclosed to the cast. At this point, we don’t know exactly what happened to her. It’s just highly suspicious.”
Sierra heaved an Oscar-worthy sigh. “I suppose that’s for the best. I still can’t believe what’s been going on aboard this cruise.”
“Yeah, it makes sailing on the Titanic look almost fun in comparison,” Stan said. Zac looked upward, put his hands together and mumbled a quick prayer.
One of the stagehands walked by, and Zac called out to him. I stopped Zac before he could disappear on me.
“Do you know the name of Nicole’s boyfriend? Tom would like to contact him to see if he has any information about her disappearance.”
“No, although one of the girls might know. He’s in show business from what I’ve gathered.” Zac scanned the room and then pointed to the woman playing the part of Rizzo. “Go ask Gina. She has her nose in everyone’s business.”
Zac and Sierra walked away so Stan and I moseyed up to Gina. As head of the Pink Ladies, Gina was dressed in black capris and a pink satin jacket. When I tapped her on her shoulder, she knocked my hand off and shouted, “Whadaya want?”
I stepped back, wondering if she was staying in character or if she hailed from the Bronx.
“Sorry to bother you. Zac sent us over.”
“Well, make it quick. I got a show to do, you know.”
“And you are so awesome in it.” Stan fawned over her.
She blew him a kiss. “Thanks sweetie. Good thing that loser Nicole flew home, or I’d still be stuck in the chorus.”
“Right,” I said. “That’s what we wanted to talk to you about. Do you know the name of Nicole’s boyfriend?”
Gina examined her flamingo pink nails. “Sure do. That bimbo was schtupping her agent.”
“Her agent?” I asked, confused at first. “Oh, you mean her talent agent.”
“Who else would I mean?”
“There are a lot of agents out there. Do you happen to remember his name?”
She scrunched her face in thought. “Let’s see. Ralph? Robert? No, that’s not it. Gimme a minute.”
“If it comes to you, please tell Stan and he’ll get the information to me.”
“Yeah. For some reason I got the feeling the guy was a dick.”
That was helpful. Not.
Her face suddenly lit up. “Hey, that’s it. His name was Richard. But he wasn’t a Dick, he was a Rick.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
What were the odds that the only talent agen
t I’d ever met was on this cruise ship? And also named Rick.
“Was it Rick Nerwinski from Top Talent Creative Agency?” I asked Gina.
“Yeah, maybe. Not sure how many guys named Rick work at TTCA, but that’s her agency. Mine too.” Gina rolled her heavily made-up eyes. “Although I don’t need to schtup my agent to get parts. If you talk to Nicole, tell her thanks from me for taking off.” Gina let out a brassy laugh and wandered away.
“You look like you’ve been sucker punched,” Stan said. “Do you want to sit down?” He led me to the jalopy we’d stood by earlier and opened the passenger door for me. What do you know? It even came with seats, of a sort.
I plopped down, deep in thought. What if Nicole had threatened to tell Claire about her relationship with Rick? Would he resort to killing her to save his marriage? Was Nicole in love with him and was he in love with her? Or was she just another notch on a very long belt. I imagined that wouldn’t be unusual for a high profile Hollywood agent.
Poor Claire.
And poor, poor Nicole. Another starlet whose star was extinguished far too soon.
I shivered as cold air swirled around me. Then I wondered if Nicole’s spirit still flitted aboard the ship, hoping someone would solve her murder.
Had I solved the case of the missing singer or was I jumping to conclusions? Then a thunderbolt hit me when I remembered Mizuki’s remark that the person in the hoodie went into the men’s room. That could be the last nail in Rick’s coffin.
It was time for me to track down my husband and tell him what I’d discovered. Even more worrisome, to me, was Claire’s safety. If Rick had killed once, he also might have killed Sanjay, assuming the security officer had tried to blackmail the agent.
Did that mean Claire was in danger?
A bell went off, disturbing my reverie.
“You have to go,” Stan said, leaping out of his side of the fake fifty-three Chevy. “That’s the twenty-minute warning.”
I glanced at my watch. Yikes. Where had the time gone? The show was starting in twenty minutes, and I hadn’t even eaten dinner. My stomach chose that moment to growl, in case I hadn’t noticed my increasing hunger pangs.
Solving murders always trumped stuffing my face. Although wasn’t tonight the night they served all you could eat crab legs? Next time I went looking for a killer, I would time it a little better.
Stan showed me a hidden passageway that led from the backstage area to the disco. Since the disco didn’t open until ten o’clock, they occasionally brought in performers and props using this passage.
I wound around the hallway that was decorated in noir. Black walls with minimal lighting. At the end was a door. I pushed on it and found myself in the empty disco.
I pulled my cell out of my purse to tell Tom about my discovery. First, I texted him, but my iPhone informed me the text couldn’t be sent.
Darn those stupid satellite blockers the cruise ships install so they can rape and pillage their passengers the old-fashioned way. By overcharging us for the internet. Although we’d been able to use our phones at our island stops, it was impossible to get a connection on the ship.
I zipped out of the disco and found myself in a hallway teeming with people intent on getting a good seat for the only performance of Grease that evening. The theater would be packed in minutes.
I followed the stream of people and then noticed one of the ship’s phones not too far from the ladies room. I picked up the phone and dialed our cabin. No one answered. Tom was likely still processing any evidence he could find in Nicole’s cabin.
I left a message for him to meet me at the theater. Sierra had been able to reserve seats for our family in the third row. Since the show would begin shortly, I decided to check if the rest of my relatives were already seated. I might even find Tom with them, although I doubted it.
I stood at the top of the staircase on the left side of the large room, which looked filled to capacity. Thank goodness, Sierra reserved those seats for us. On the opposite side of the theater, I noticed Jimmy Bond escorting the Peabody sisters. That man was a glutton for punishment. I hoped they’d find seats or he would never hear the end of it.
Latecomers crowded the steps, scanning the theater for empty seats. I eased my way past some frustrated passengers and eventually discovered most of my family already seated. I slid into an empty seat between Gran and Mother. Two vacant seats were on her left.
“Isn’t Robert coming to the show?” I asked Mother.
“Evidently his former partner stumbled onto a crime scene.” She drilled me with an annoyed look. “Would you know anything about that?”
“Sorry,” I apologized. “But you wouldn’t want a murderer to get away, would you? This is the last night before we dock so it’s the last chance to catch him.” I leaned closer and murmured, “And I think I know who the killer is. But I can’t get in touch with Tom.”
“Did you call him?”
I nodded. “I left a message in our stateroom, but my cell is useless on board.”
She looked at her watch. “Five minutes until the show starts. The killer can’t escape off the ship, so you might as well wait for the men to show up. Robert promised me they would try to make part of the show.”
I settled into my seat. Mother was right. I couldn’t exactly wander around the ship looking for Rick and Claire. I would enjoy the production until my husband appeared then share my supposition with him.
Sierra walked onto the stage. To the audience, she appeared as professional and enthusiastic as usual. But I detected a few beads of perspiration on her normally placid brow. When she moved to the wings, the curtain opened wide and the stage filled with the Grease gang.
Other than one dancer, by the name of Stan, who occasionally moved out of sync with the rest of the dance crew, the first half of the show mesmerized the crowd. A huge round of applause erupted when the curtain went down for the fifteen-minute intermission.
I popped out of my chair, wondering if Tom and my stepfather were waiting for the intermission to join us. The stairways were crowded with folks taking advantage of the short restroom break. I couldn’t locate either of the men so I sat back down. Mabel flagged down a waiter and ordered a round of drinks for us.
I checked my cell looking for any form of communication from my husband but nothing appeared. I rose once again and scanned the enormous theater, hoping to find one of the guys. I found one, but not the one I was currently searching for.
Rick Nerwinski stood in the front row of the theater close to the far left aisle, thumbing through the program. The seat next to him was vacant.
What did that mean? Had he done something horrible to his lovely wife?
I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Claire, dressed in a black sheath, making her way down the crowded stairs. I called out to her, not sure if she would hear me from fifteen seats away.
Claire glanced to her right, her expression confused until I waved to her. She smiled then abruptly stopped on the stairs. She brought her hand up to her throat and stared at me for a few seconds, oblivious to the people now forced to maneuver around her still figure. Then she responded with a small flick of her hand and hurried down the stairs to join her husband.
Omigosh. Claire looked frightened to death. The lights began to dim for Act Two, but I couldn’t sit through the entire second half without checking on her first. Perhaps I could talk Claire into sitting with my family. Our seats were higher with a better view of the stage. Anything to get her away from her husband.
“Where you goin’?” Gran asked as I rose from my seat. “The show’s about to start.”
“I need to check on someone.” I stumbled over Gran’s shiny pink tote, climbed over Mabel’s fleshy knees and trotted down the center aisle. I narrowly missed colliding with the server who was passing out our drinks. He handed my daiquiri to me as I walked past him.
Claire and Rick stood arguing with one another in the front row. She snatched a large black clutch and attempted
to leave, but Rick blocked her escape with his arm. I rushed forward to join them before he could harm her.
The curtain rose and the orchestra began playing.
“Stop,” I said to Rick. “Don’t hurt her.”
Rick looked at me like I was crazy, while the people in the rows behind us yelled at our trio to sit down and shut up.
With fifteen hundred people sitting in the audience, I wasn’t afraid of Rick, but I didn’t want him to lead his wife away, possibly to her doom. He dropped her hand as I moved between them, prepared to douse him with my daiquiri if necessary.
“What the…” Rick stopped as he gazed down at my left wrist. “Laurel, why are you wearing Claire’s bracelet. Are you the thief?”
Between the murmurs from the people seated around us, and the noise blasting from the stage as the cast performed the opening number of Act Two, I could barely hear Rick.
“Did you ask if I’m the thief?”
He nodded and pointed to my wrist. “That’s Claire’s bracelet. It’s been missing since the first night.”
Uh oh.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
I turned to see Claire sidling away from us toward the exit.
“Stop,” I screamed at her. She pivoted on one foot and raced up the stairs leading to the stage where the dancers were now in the middle of the infamous hand jive dance sequence.
Claire disappeared into a sea of pastel-colored dresses and guys dressed in tight black pants. I dropped my drink on a serving tray and attempted to follow her. The next thing I knew one of the male dancers picked me up and flipped me upside down in a dance move not designed for chubby forty-year-old women. My legs wiggled back and forth until he flipped me right side up. I pointed up with my finger, and he grabbed me around my waist and lifted me straight up in front of him, giving me a better viewing perspective while I searched for my quarry.