An unexpected lump formed in my throat because I didn’t want to hear anything bad. But I had a feeling it was too late. I swallowed tensely while his dark eyes focused on mine.
“I was part of a Latino gang,” he said, “when I was eighteen. And I got knifed.” His fist tightened for a split second, and a trace of regretfulness crossed his face. “I’d been helping my mother in her salon and was trying to stay clean while my father was away working. But life isn’t always easy.” He took a breath like he was remembering the past. “After that incident, I decided I was either going to survive and become something or die in a street fight and devastate my family. Being knifed to death didn’t hold much appeal.”
“So that’s when you entered the navy and became a master-at-arms?”
“The time frame’s a little broader, but yeah, you got it.”
“That’s a little different from the dream-to-be-in-the-navy story you gave me a few months ago. An urge to see the world at twenty. Big ships enticed me.”
He nodded. “That’s all true. The slashing incident made it clear. I came to the States, got my head straightened, then after a few years, I enlisted.”
My muscles relaxed. Jock’s life was like something out of a suspense novel. Hard to believe three days had passed and I’d seen him little more than half a dozen times. And what I had seen always made me question who he was.
I gave him a reluctant nod. I was relieved to hear his story. But I had to focus on finding Tantig. If I hadn’t been so engrossed in Lucy’s murder, I wouldn’t have gotten sidetracked in the first place.
I rolled off the table and headed toward the chair where my clothes were laid out. I turned my head over my shoulder. “Do you mind looking the other way so I can dress?”
“You weren’t this modest last night.”
I shot him a lethal glare, not trusting myself to verbalize what I was thinking.
“Turning,” he said, palms up.
I flung on my clothes and slapped on my hat, not trusting his roving eyes. “By the way”—I whipped around with my good hand on the doorknob—“as for who locked me in the steam room, you might want to put Molly and Polly down as a couple of suspects.”
“Molly and Polly?” he said thoughtfully.
“Yes. Buxom blonds? Wear only bikinis? They took part in the contest, and if you haven’t noticed them yet, you’d better have your eyes checked.” I held up my bandaged hand, feeling like Quasimodo, physically battered and emotionally bruised. “They’re the reason I’m in this state.”
It wasn’t an Oscar-winning performance, but it was as good an exit as I’d ever made.
* * *
I went straight to my parents’ cabin, hoping to find my mother and Tantig inside. I knocked on the door and waited. I called their names. I tried the doorknob. Nobody was there, and I couldn’t stand around doing nothing.
I did a lap around the ship in the hot sun, looking in every nook and cranny for any member of my family. My scare in that steam trap had me imagining all kinds of horrible things, but if I was being rational, I’d admit it was possible Molly and Polly hadn’t taken Tantig or locked me inside the steam room.
I thought about our conversation and the girls’ illegal activities that I—and perhaps Tantig—had witnessed. But even if Tantig had seen them dealing drugs, I couldn’t come up with a good reason why they’d abduct her. She was an elderly lady. How much of a threat could she pose?
The handle on the steam room door was another thing. It could’ve been temperamental to begin with, and when they shut the door, the action could’ve jammed and locked it. Or maybe someone else happened along, bumped into it, and broke it.
I took a deep breath, sorting this all out. Assuming Tantig wasn’t with my parents, she wasn’t senile. She wouldn’t do something crazy like get locked inside a steam room. Or fall into a lifeboat. I looked heavenward. Thanks for that thought. But the truth was, she was aging and forgetful. I had to accept it was a possibility she could’ve walked off the ship and not returned. Or if she did return, she may not have been with my parents. All I knew was if Tantig came through this ordeal, her forgetfulness would be a blessing.
I continued my search, opening and shutting every door I could find. Then, just in case she had wandered too close to the edge, I rushed along the length of the ship with my head hung over the railing, scrutinizing each lifeboat below.
My clothes were plastered to my body; I was sticky, sweaty, and headachy from the steam room; and my hand was aching. I slurped back a pink lemonade from a passing waiter and decided I’d be in a much better frame of mind once I showered off the filth and sweat from today.
I marched into my cabin and found the beds newly made, fresh-cut flowers in the vase, and mint chocolates resting on both pillows. The smell of acetone still hung in the air. Cringing at the memory of nearly blinding Jock, I dug out my Musk and freshened the room. Then I stripped and jumped in the shower, taking care not to soak my bandage.
After I lotioned my arms and legs, I tugged on a short flowered skirt and top. If I’d had an extra twenty minutes and a hand that wasn’t sore, I could’ve done something fabulous with my hair. But I didn’t worry about perfection. I wanted to get back to searching for Tantig.
I stuffed my charged phone in my bag, plucked a pink flower out of the vase, snapped off the stem, and tucked the blossom over my ear. I stopped for a moment and thought about the flowers Molly and Polly were wearing and their visit to the florist shop in San Juan. Was there a link to this and the drug deal I’d witnessed? Or was I overthinking things? With no time to deliberate on it now, I slid into my open-toed white stilettos with bows on the sides and rushed out of the cabin.
* * *
I found myself heading toward the dining room, probably because of my rumbling stomach and the smell of nachos and salsa pulling me in. Colorful piñatas hung from the ceiling, waiters wore ponchos and sombreros, cacti and red hibiscus sat in corners, and a Mexican trio strummed their guitars to a well-known Mexican tune.
I pushed my steam-room episode to the back of my mind and showed Tantig’s picture at several tables, asking if anyone had seen a white-haired woman in Nikes roaming around. No one had.
Deflated, I shoved the photo back in my bag, thinking if I grabbed a bite to eat off the early-afternoon buffet, maybe my mother and Tantig would stroll in with the same idea. Also, I hoped it’d dull the persistent ache from worry in my stomach.
I spotted Sabrina sitting alone in a corner of the room. I carried over my plate that I’d filled with a nacho dish and a quesadilla and asked if I could join her. She said, “Be my guest,” and complimented the flower in my hair.
“Housekeeping hasn’t finished cleaning our floor,” she said, tissue in hand, a half-eaten burrito in front of her. “I’m allowed back in our cabin since the police said they were finished processing everything.”
“You okay with staying in the same cabin?”
She sighed. “I think so. While housekeeping’s still at it, I was deciding whether to take one of the San Juan walking tours or go gold-hunting.”
I bit into my nacho dish, and she looked at me as if she was expecting a barrage of questions. “Aren’t you going to grill me?” She blew her nose. “Like everyone else? Because I knew Lucy?”
I licked my lip. “No. I’m just hungry.” That was part of the truth. The other part was I saw Mr. Jaworski weaving through tables, looking for a place to sit. I hated to see an elderly person eat alone, and I could’ve invited him to join us, but I wasn’t up for more talk of the prodigal son and maraschino cherries. In all honesty, I’d had enough of my landlord for one day.
Sabrina looked in the same direction, and we watched Mr. Jaworski plant himself at a table. The other five people at the table smiled at him, then shifted a few inches in the opposite direction.
“Yep. Uncle Sam.” Sabrina smiled and wiped her nose. “He used to drive Lucy nuts.”
“Did she talk about him much?”
“Ha
rdly, except to say he was coming on this cruise, and it wasn’t her idea.”
I dabbed my mouth with a sombrero-shaped napkin, my bandaged hand catching Sabrina’s eye.
“What happened?” she asked.
I put down my napkin. “I had a run-in with a wall.” Half-accurate.
“Sprained?”
“A cut.”
She frowned like she was trying to figure me out. “Is it true what they say about you?”
“That I’m beautiful, sexy, and smart?” I batted my eyelashes.
“No.” She gave a polite smile. “The other thing.”
Oh. “That depends. People have a way of embellishing the truth.”
“But you’ve solved murders.”
“Solved is a complex word, and one usually avoided in association with my name.”
“Then you’re not trying to solve Lucy’s murder?”
“I just want to find my great-aunt.” I took a sip of water.
“Your great-aunt?”
“Yes.” I pulled Tantig’s picture out of my bag. “Have you seen her?”
She took a good look at the photo. “Not much since the contest. But I’ll keep my eye out for her.” She glanced around the dining room and quivered. “I hope she’s okay. It’s been eerie around here since Lucy’s murder.”
Tell me about it.
“How did you know Lucy?” I asked.
She pushed away her burrito and patted her mouth dry. “I worked for Lucy. She had a salon in New York City. Shortcuts.”
“Good name.” I recalled Holly’s news about Lucy’s arrests and her possible involvement in a homicide. I wasn’t sure if I should take this questioning to the next level. “Work there long?”
“Six years.”
“You must’ve been fairly close.”
“It wasn’t a partnership, if that’s what you mean.”
I didn’t know what I meant, but I was getting a feel for their relationship.
“We were doing pretty well, too, until all of a sudden customers started leaving.”
I knit my eyebrows together. “Too much competition in the Big Apple?”
“You could say that.” She rolled her eyes. “One rival in particular. Kashi.”
“Kashi?”
“Yes. His salon is down the street from Shortcuts. He’s a real snake in the grass.” She flattened her lips. “Do you know he was responsible for the dead skunk?”
I scrunched up my nose. “Dead skunk? As in one got hit on the road in front of the salon?”
She shook her head in a thoughtful manner. “Nooo. More like one was delivered in a hair box with a message saying it was free hair extensions.”
“You’re kidding.”
“That’s what Lucy said when she opened the box.”
“And you think Kashi delivered it.”
“We know he did. It came with a nicely decorated card, saying so.” She gave a disgusted head shake. “Word traveled fast about a dead skunk in the shop, and with dozens of salons nearby that people can patronize…well, business hasn’t been great. When Lucy saw the ad for the cruise contest, she decided this was what we needed to make a comeback.”
“And she won,” I said, trying to find the bright side in all this.
“Yeah. Some people have all the luck.” She zeroed in on me. “I can tell you one thing. Kashi disliked Lucy with a passion. He’d do anything to remain top dog in New York’s hair world.”
“Anything?” Like come on the same cruise and murder Lucy?
She gave me a direct nod, a nod that said she was nailing Kashi to the cross.
Was he the snake in the grass she made him out to be? Was I trying to convince myself he was innocent when he was a ruthless murderer? I scratched my chin, deciding how to broach the subject of Kashi and the vial of liquid and what happened in their cabin Saturday night after Max and I left.
Then out of the corner of my eye I spotted Tantig leave the dining room.
* * *
I leaped from the table and called an apology over my shoulder to Sabrina for deserting her so abruptly. But I didn’t want to lose sight of Tantig. Sabrina called out it was okay, that she was heading ashore anyway. Then she shouted my name.
I screeched to a stop, turned around, and found her standing there waving my bag in the air. “You forgot this.”
I dashed back to the table, grabbed my bag, said thanks, and hitched it over my shoulder. Then I aimed for the exit. By the time I got there, Tantig was gone. I looked right, then left, then forward, then back. I didn’t know where she’d gone or whether she’d stepped into the elevator. I whipped out her photo and asked a young couple coming into the dining room if they’d seen her. They weren’t helpful. Okay, the elevator it was.
I rode down to her floor, figuring she was finally heading back to the cabin. I got there in record time, but still no one answered my knock on the door. Nonetheless, it was a relief knowing she was on board the ship and safely trundling around. She was probably glad for the independence.
I retraced my steps, thinking maybe Tantig took the elevator but got off on the wrong floor. Maybe she ended up on my floor. Couldn’t hurt to check.
I rode the elevator to my floor, walked the hall to my cabin, and didn’t see any life. I kept walking and before I knew it, I ended up in Lucy and Sabrina’s wing.
It was the conversation about Kashi that had me stupefied. More than ever, I needed to see if I could find any clues about what was in that vial. If I could search Sabrina and Lucy’s cabin, maybe I’d find a drop of potion left in the glass that Kashi had spiked and I’d knocked over. I didn’t think a dirty glass from Saturday would be lying around, especially after the police had examined and bagged everything, but it wouldn’t hurt to look. Plus, there could be other clues as to why Lucy was killed. All I needed was the key. And since housekeeping was still making the rounds, and Sabrina was heading ashore, this was my chance. It would only take me a few minutes. Then I could get back to locating Tantig.
I saw a cabin steward with his cleaning cart parked in their hallway. I approached the steward and hummed a ditty. “Buenas tardes,” I chirped.
“Buenas tardes.” He slipped a master key in a door, then hung it back on the corner of the cart. He took an armload of towels, glasses, shampoo, and mint chocolates, and slid into the cabin without another look back.
I took a deep breath. I wasn’t a pickpocket or a thief. I was borrowing a key and taking a friendly look in a murder victim’s room. If I could even just find the vial Kashi had used, I’d be in and out before the steward finished making up the beds. In theory, my plan worked great.
I whipped the key string off the cart, darted across the hall to Sabrina and Lucy’s room, slipped the right key in the door, and magically it opened. I tossed the string back on the corner of the cart and dashed into the cabin.
I flicked on the lights and double-locked the door behind me. Whew. I took a look around the freshly made-up room. Darn. The police obviously did a thorough job processing the cabin. Almost looked too empty, which seemed odd. But what was missing? I opened and closed several drawers. Sabrina’s clothes were neatly folded along with a few small souvenirs. Nothing screamed peculiar. I slammed the last drawer shut. Everything looked the same as the night of Lucy’s win, except now her belongings and big blue suitcase were gone.
I took a moment to absorb this, and my heartbeat slowed down. As mean as Lucy was, she left her mark on many people. The cabin didn’t even have the same vitality to it. I glanced at the nightstand where the photo sat. It too was gone—probably sent home with Lucy’s other belongings—and replaced by a fashion magazine, pen, and pad of paper. The only glasses in the room were clean and sitting upside down on paper coasters.
I crouched and looked under the bunks. No glasses, wine bottles, or signs of a vial anywhere. And the carpet was spotless. Now I’d never know what Kashi poured in Lucy’s drink—not that it mattered since I’d knocked over the glass before she drank from it. Unless Kashi
spiked Lucy’s drink again after we’d left, and the substance somehow showed up in the autopsy report. Of course, there was a fifty-fifty chance of Romero revealing what was in that report. But it was logical to think Lucy could’ve ended up in the ice mold after being poisoned or drugged. If that was the case, she really could’ve frozen to death.
The bigger issue was that I worried Kashi was guilty and I was unwilling to rat him out until I investigated more in case I was wrong. On the other hand, if he was innocent, I needed proof to reassure myself. Best not to jump to conclusions until I gathered more information.
I took a quick look in the bathroom. Nothing outstanding. Clean glasses there, too, plus a fresh papered bar of soap.
I picked up the soap and sniffed. Mmm. Herbal. We had lavender in ours. What gives?
Suddenly, a voice came over the speakers. My heart jumped in my throat. I squeezed the soap so hard it plopped into the toilet. Wide-eyed with disbelief, I looked from my bandaged hand to my good hand. Now what? One thing was certain. I wasn’t plucking it out.
The voice continued. “Valentine Beaumont, please report to the purser’s desk. Valentine Beaumont.”
Why was I being paged? They didn’t page people like this. It had to be about Tantig. Did they find her? Was she okay?
I cracked open the door. The cleaning cart was in the same spot. Dirty sheets lay in a bundle on top, and a stained lampshade sat over everything. The cabin steward was nowhere in sight.
I stepped out into the hall at the same moment the chief steward and his cohorts rounded the far corner, deep in conversation. Guilt filled my bones, and out of fear I grabbed the lampshade, plunked it on my head, and sprinted in the opposite direction.
“Wait! Senorita!” one of the men called. “You dropped your flower!”
I felt the side of my head. To heck with the flower. I kicked up my heels and kept running until I turned a corner and crashed into my mother. The lampshade tumbled to the ground, and I screamed for my life.
“Valentine!” My mother clapped a hand to her heart, trying to remain on two feet.
Murder, Curlers, and Cruises Page 14