Murder, Curlers, and Cruises

by Arlene McFarlane

Added to the mystery was Molly and Polly’s secret exchange. If this was drug-related and had something to do with Lucy’s death, I was yet to find out. And once I located Tantig, that was exactly what I intended to do.

  * * *

  After hours of searching the island for Tantig, and two people telling me they saw her with another couple heading back to the ship, I hurried to the dock, convinced she was safely on board with my parents. My mother obviously found her and was probably at this very moment ushering her into the cabin, gently scolding her for leaving the ship by herself.

  First thing I planned to do was head to my parents’ cabin. Make sure everyone was okay. I stepped onto the deck when Molly and Polly came up from behind, slipping their arms through mine.

  “We were just talking about you,” Molly said, an orange flower tucked behind her ear.

  “You were?” I looked from her to Polly who had a yellow flower tucked in her cleavage. Flowers from the florist shop they’d entered earlier?

  “Yes.” Polly glanced over her shoulder like she didn’t want to be overheard. “We saw you at the market this morning. Tried to catch up to you, but you disappeared.”

  I kept my expression neutral, but inside I was gasping. “There was so much to see. Felt like I was running all morning.” No lie there.

  “I know what you mean. Hardly seems fair to be enjoying ourselves when Lucy is no longer with us.” She shuddered. “And what a way to go. I’d hate to be frozen in a block of ice, even if it was a beautiful statue of Aphrodite. But she was small. Maybe for a little person it wasn’t so bad.”

  I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation. As they listed all the terrible ways to pass on—not once mentioning drug overdose—I listened with half an ear. What I really wondered was how Lucy truly died. Chef Roy said she had to have been dead when she went into the mold. If this were true, were the two blonds messing with me? Pretending they didn’t know Lucy had been murdered before she’d been frozen?

  I rewound things to last night. In my drunken state, I didn’t see Molly and Polly at dinner. Was that planned? If they’d killed Lucy, did they think their absence from the dining room would guarantee they wouldn’t be questioned or be suspects? Then again, what would their motive be for murder? As far as I could see, the only thing Lucy did to annoy them was win the contest. Not something a reasonably sane person would kill over. Unless this was all tied to drugs.

  People were hustling past us, heading toward the high-in-the-air obstacle course. If I wanted to question Molly and Polly about Lucy, it’d have to be in private. I didn’t want to put off checking in on Tantig and my mother, but I was certain Tantig would be resting by now. I looked at their beach garb, and an idea struck me.

  “Want to join me in the steam room? I was just heading there.”

  Molly stared down at my plaid skirt and high heels. “You’re not even in a bathing suit.”

  Polly gave Molly a flippant wave and tightened her grip on my arm. “No need, Molly. Where we’re going, she won’t need one.”

  * * *

  Molly pulled out a pack of spearmint-flavored gum on our way to the steam room. “Boy, am I dry. Want one?” She held out the pack toward me. “I usually carry Tic Tacs, but I can’t find them anywhere.”

  Tic Tacs? I coughed and almost swallowed my molars.

  Molly whacked me good and hard on the back. “You going to live?”

  I gulped back a breath. “Yeah, thanks.” I took a piece of gum and chewed the life out of it, telling myself lots of people carried Tic Tacs. Probably five percent of the people on this ship carried Tic Tacs. With a ship this size, that was a lot of people.

  We arrived at the steam room, not a soul in sight. It was as if everyone was having a siesta or up on deck climbing the high ropes. All the better. Relaxing harp music played in the background, and a stack of white towels sat on the counter along with a sign asking guests to drop dirty towels in the wooden box next to the door.

  We stripped in the dressing rooms around the corner. By the time I tiptoed into the ten-by-ten steam room, Molly and Polly already had their heads back in relaxation mode.

  I hated these suffocating soundproof steam boxes. Sweat bubbled on my lip, and I’d only just stepped inside. If it wasn’t something I thought they’d enjoy, I wouldn’t have suggested it in the first place. Better make this quick.

  I clicked the narrow door on the magnetic catch behind me. My towel was draped tightly around my body, my bag wrapped inside another towel by my side. Silly to bring a purse into a steam room, but the truth was, I didn’t trust these two. And my bag of tools gave me a sense of security.

  I settled on the tile bench across from Molly and Polly, chewing my gum, pretending to be as relaxed as them. I let out a heavy sigh. Polly cracked an eye open at me, blinking through the fog, and I thought this was my chance to see what they really knew about Lucy’s death.

  “This is the first time I’ve tried the steam room.” I leaned my head back against the wall. “Lucy had suggested using it the first day we boarded the ship.” That was a fib, but I needed to say something to steer the conversation back to the murder. “Guess she enjoyed them.”

  “Could be,” Polly said. “She was full of surprises.”

  I nodded. “Speaking of surprises, it’s like she disappeared after the contest Saturday.” Another fib since I was with her in her cabin for the post-contest party. “Did you see her Saturday night or yesterday morning when we were in port in Nassau?”

  “Can’t recall seeing her around.” Molly shrugged. “But it’s a huge ship. Hard remembering who you’ve bumped into.”

  “True. What about before the contest? Did you see anything that looked out of the ordinary? Maybe Lucy was involved in an argument, or someone was threatening her?”

  “Ha!” Polly barked. “Lucy was always arguing with someone. If it wasn’t a waiter, it was a passenger, or a steward, or anybody with two legs.”

  She had a point.

  Molly scooted onto the bench next to me. “What did you buy at the market today?”

  I wasn’t sure why the sudden change in conversation, but I decided to make nice. “Not much. A few souvenirs. My hat. How about you?”

  They gave each other a quick glance. “Same thing. Shopping…for souvenirs.”

  Polly slid on the other side of me. “We California girls like to sniff out rare souvenirs whenever we can.” She ran a bead of sweat off my neck. “Know what I mean?”

  I gulped down my gum, sensing the tables had just turned. Why were they dropping hints regarding their drug activity? Were they expecting me to spill the beans about what I’d seen earlier? I was good at playing dumb. I could pretend I didn’t see them making a drug deal. I’d even pretend I was the Queen of Sheba if it’d get them to back off. A steady stream of water trickled down my spine, and I wriggled my shoulders in discomfort. “Sure.”

  “Good!” Polly said.

  Molly jumped to her feet. “Time’s up for us. It’s still early, and we’ve got to see more of San Juan before we head out to sea!”

  They pranced out of the steam room, securing the door behind them.

  I closed my eyes, glad for the peace, though still unclear whether they were involved in Lucy’s murder. If Lucy had been under suspicion for trafficking and these two were making their own deal in San Juan, could there have been a connection in all this to Lucy’s death? Suppose the beach babes also did some dirty dealings in Nassau and arranged for a hitman to come on board to kill Lucy. Then suppose the killer arranged to have Lucy dumped in the mold and got off the ship once we docked in San Juan. Or suppose he disembarked before we even left Nassau. It was a lot of hypothesizing, and I had no idea if there was merit to any of this.

  I’d give them a minute to dress, then I’d quickly throw on my clothes and see if they were going ashore again. Shoot! I opened my eyes. Tantig! I couldn’t sit around here or follow Molly and Polly back to San Juan until I knew Tantig was fine.

  Thick steam
clouded the room, and it was getting harder to breathe. I squinted through the dense fog at the control panel on the wall but couldn’t make out numbers. I darted over and found the heat cranked up to one hundred and forty. Probably Molly and Polly playing a joke on me, turning up the control outside. The joke was on them. I wasn’t staying here a moment longer.

  I grabbed my bag and sprang for the door and fresh air, but the door wouldn’t budge. I yanked on the handle. Nothing. I stepped on my tiptoes, rubbed the safety glass, and peeked out. Nobody there.

  Suffocating temperatures made me panicky, and my pulse surged. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take the steam. Sweaty and shaking all over, I reached for the dial and accidentally loosened the hard-plastic cover. The cover broke in two, jammed the dial in place, and sliced my palm. Blood oozed out of the gash while the intensity of the steam snowballed around me.

  I nabbed the towel that had covered my bag and wrapped it around my hand, wincing from the pain of the stinging cut. I was now beyond panicky. The walls were getting smaller around me, and my head was throbbing from the heat.

  “Help!” I pounded on the door with my good hand. “Anyone out there?”

  Okay. Calm down. Nobody’s going to hear you. You’ve got to help yourself.

  Yeah? I couldn’t get myself out of a locked laundry room at work. How was I going to manage it in a sauna or steam room—or whatever the hell this was—on board a ship with no one around? Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. When I’d been trapped in the laundry room a few months ago, Jock had been by my side. Where was he when I needed him? Suddenly, I didn’t buy Molly’s story about the lost Tic Tacs. Worse, I began thinking about Tantig and where she might be.

  I recalled the tapping sound I’d heard this morning when I was in the shower. Maybe Molly and Polly had taken Tantig, locked her up, stolen her mints, and dropped them on my doorstep to taunt me. But why? Did Tantig stumble upon the two of them in Nassau the other day? See something she shouldn’t have? Perhaps more drug dealings such as I’d witnessed today?

  None of this made sense because several people saw Tantig today head back to the ship with another couple. Another couple! Oh, no! What if that couple wasn’t my parents? What if it wasn’t even Tantig?

  I was getting worked up. I could barely focus. Through the blur of tears, I looked down at my bag. Your phone, stupid. Message Max, or Jock, or someone. I dumped my bag on the floor. Where was my phone? Darn it all. No phone. Right. Dead battery.

  I delved through my heap of supplies. Perm rods, scissors, combs, gel. Blow dryer. Yes. I clutched the butt of the dryer and lunged at the tiny window. Bang. Nothing. Bang. Bang. Zilch. Damn safety glass. I flung more tools and bottles around. It was no use. I had nothing. Who was I kidding? I was a dumb beautician with good skin who was going to die in a boiling sauna.

  Fighting dizziness, I unwrapped the towel from my body, wiped the sweat and tears off my face, and stuffed the towel in one of the steam vents. So I was naked. It was a hundred and forty degrees, and I was alone. Now wasn’t the time for fashion or modesty.

  I swiped my hair off my back, twisted it in a bun, and went to secure it with the bobby pins I’d fastened earlier. Bobby pins! I ripped one out of my hair and wheedled it around the magnetic latch. It always worked on the bathroom door at home when Yitts accidentally locked herself inside. I jiggled and rattled the door, whipping my wet hair out of my face.

  “Oh, come on! How hard can it be?” The more frantic I grew, the more bent out of shape the bobby pin became. My towel unraveled from my hand, and blood smeared everywhere. I gave a loud err and banged my fist on the door.

  “I’m screwed!” I slid down to the floor, light-headed and exhausted. “Wait! A screw!” That’s it! I plunged through my mess of products, glanced up at the door and back down again. It wasn’t an especially thick door, nor was it wide. If I loosened the screws on the hinges, I might get out of here.

  “Aha!” I gripped my nail clippers and unwound the sturdy arm. I started with the bottom hinge, working it loose. The clippers slipped out of the socket time and time again, stabbing my hands, cutting my skin. I did a haphazard job of rewrapping my palm and finally managed to twist out the pin, but I grew more desperate and sloppy in my one-handed approach. My whole body was slick with sweat like a turkey basting in oil. Blood trickled down my fingers, and tears rolled down my cheeks. None of that mattered. I had to escape.

  After an eternity, I freed the second pin. I stepped back from the door, swiped my toweled hand across my mouth, and was about to start on the third pin when the door banged open, broke off its last hinge, and crashed to the ground. A rush of steam whooshed out.

  “Aaaaah!” I shrieked, leaping for the towel covering the vent.

  Captain Madera, Jock, and a handful of the crew stood, heads angled inside the door frame, gawking at me like they’d never seen a naked woman before.

  Jock turned off the steam and held up a clean towel in front of me, his face carefully devoid of expression.

  I snatched the towel, realizing how this probably looked.

  “Bella,” Captain Madera said, “you look in the strangest places for entertainment.”

  “I…I…” I swaddled myself and looked from my toweled hand to my tools strewn on the floor. My bottom lip began to tremble, my head woozy. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.

  I closed my eyes and took a huge breath. Everything was going to be fine. I kept telling myself this because it was the only way I wouldn’t lose control.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Despite my best intentions to stay alert, I must’ve blacked out. I came to in the ship’s infirmary and looked up into Jock’s face. No doctor in sight. Only Jock, a mix of worry and exasperation etched in his blotched eyes.

  I frowned and tried to roll off the table.

  “Easy.” He pressed down my bare shoulders.

  I glanced at myself, relieved I was still covered in a towel. My hand was wrapped in a white bandage, my clothes were on a nearby chair. Someone must’ve gathered my stuff. I looked up at Jock, knowing who that someone was.

  “I’m fine.” I struggled to sit up.

  “You got pretty dehydrated in there.” He handed me a paper cup. “Here, drink this.”

  I peered into the cup and didn’t ask questions. I was bone dry. “Yuck!” I sputtered. “What’s in this?”

  “Electrolytes.”

  “Blech!” I made a sour face. “I need a Diet Coke.”

  “You’re not getting one. Doc insisted you drink that before getting off that table. And I’m here to make sure you do. Think of me as the enforcer.”

  I dragged my gaze from his healing corneas and looked over my shoulder around the white sterile room. “I want to see the doctor.”

  “He’s out on a call. You’re not the only person who needs regular saving. Speaking of which, how’s the bruise on your backside?”

  “What?” Then I recalled my several falls. “When did you see—”

  “When you were butt-naked in my bed.” He grinned. “I’m glad everything else looked okay.”

  “O-kay!” How much roving did he do when I blacked out? “I thought you were a gentleman!”

  “I said not always.”

  I put up my nose. “I’m done talking to you. I want to see a nurse.”

  “This isn’t Grey’s Anatomy. The nurse had to join the doctor, so you got me. Your blood pressure lowered within minutes of getting you out of that steam bath, and your heart rate is normal. The nurse took your pulse before you came to.” He raised his palm. “And before you ask for the captain, he’s gone back to the bridge to look up your history. He’s curious about Valentine Beaumont.”

  He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Now, while you’re sipping on that, do you want to tell me what you were doing, digging your way to China with nail clippers?”

  I felt a tantrum coming on, but it wouldn’t get me anywhere with Mr. Mighty here.

  “I was locked in.” I threw back my drink i
n one swig. I coughed, made another acidic face, and extended my empty cup to him. “Happy?”

  He scrunched the paper cup between two fingers and tossed it in the garbage. “How’d you get locked in?”

  “I didn’t lock myself in, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  He fought to keep the grin from spreading up his cheek. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

  “Yes, you were.” I balled up my good fist. “You were thinking how ridiculous I looked, sweating and helpless in that sauna.”

  “Steam room,” he corrected, his eyes lowering to my loosening towel. “And believe me, that’s not what I was thinking. But I will tell you the handle was busted and jammed tight. I’m assuming this wasn’t accidental. Someone wanted to keep you in there.”

  “Aha!” I scrubbed up the towel, knotting it under my armpits, not daring to let myself be taken in by his heroic deed. “What were you and the captain doing there anyway?”

  He gestured to the discarded bloody towel that had covered my hand. “A spa employee went down to get dirty towels from the steam room. She discovered the broken handle on the door and saw someone moving around inside. She quickly notified the captain—who I happened to be with—and he didn’t waste time addressing the situation.”

  “He could’ve knocked first, you know.” Stupid thing to say since I was in a soundproof room.

  “I’ll pass that on.”

  My blood pressure may have been back to normal, but heat rushed to my face. “Since you’re on such good terms with the Grey’s Anatomy team, maybe you want them to look at that scar on your groin. It looks pretty nasty.”

  His laugh was short but genuine. “You’re talking about this morning.”

  I did a pleased “Mmm-hmph,” crossing my arms while I was at it.

  “I didn’t think you were looking at my scar.”

  My voice faltered. “Well, I did, uh, see it—the scar.”

  He bent forward, his breath a soft whisper on my neck. “I bet you’re dying to know how I got that scar.” He grinned in that sexy way that made women melt. Then he backed up a foot. The humor faded from his eyes, the weight of what he was about to say resting on his shoulders.