by Nic Saint
“Did you see anything, Salvatore?” I asked our small Maltese friend.
“Not a thing,” Salvatore confessed. “I tend to curl up in a ball and go straight to sleep.”
“Your humans didn’t leave their cabin last night?”
He eyed me curiously. “Is this a trick question? It is, isn’t it?”
“Not a trick question at all,” I said. “Just routine stuff.”
“Well, since I slept in Laura’s cabin last night, I can only vouch for her. And as far as I know, she didn’t get up to any mischief last night. Though as I said, I’m a sound sleeper.”
“I hope they catch whoever did this soon,” said David. “It’s an awful feeling that this happened so close to our cabins.” He shivered visibly. “Which just goes to show: if you insist on displaying your extreme wealth there will always be people who decide they want to take it away from you. It almost makes me feel glad we’re not rich.”
“You can be rich, but you have to be discreet about it,” said his wife. “Not like Mr. Thug, who liked to flaunt his wealth for all to see. And now if you’ll excuse me,” she added, throwing down her napkin, “I think I’ll enjoy some of that early-morning sun on the upper deck. This whole thing has completely spoiled my appetite, I must say.”
Judging from the enormous amounts of food she’d managed to stow away, that statement wasn’t borne out by the facts. But then again, I understood what she meant. If a person is killed right next door, it kind of takes the joy out of a cruise vacation.
“You’re all so selfish,” suddenly Laura burst out. “All you can think about is you, you, you. But what about that poor Lil Thug? Such an incredible talent—an absolute genius—and now he’s gone. Just like that. What a waste—and what a terribly, terribly sad day!”
And with these words, she pushed back her chair and hurried off.
“You’ll have to forgive my daughter,” said Mrs. Biles. “She’s very high-strung.” She then gestured to Adele, who immediately got up and started maneuvering her employer away from the table and in the direction of the elevators. David brought up the rear.
And as we watched the Biles family stride off, Chase said, “What do you think? Were they telling the truth when they said they didn’t hear a thing last night?”
“I think so,” said Odelia. “They all seemed truthful to me. Besides, why would they want to do a horrible thing like that? It doesn’t seem feasible.”
“For the money,” Chase suggested. “You told me yourself that Mrs. Biles isn’t exactly swimming in money.”
Odelia glanced down at me, since I was the one who’d supplied her with that information, straight from the mouth of Salvatore.
“Yeah, but I really don’t see Mrs. Biles cutting a diamond from a man’s face,” she said.
“So how about David? What do we really know about him?”
“Not much,” Odelia admitted. “Which is why we probably have to find out more about the guy. In fact we have to find out more about every single one of them. Which might prove a little hard, as we’re aboard a boat.”
I’d already told her that I’d heard some noises in the night: voices and such. Nothing conclusive though, since it’s hard to link an anonymous voice to a crime. Still, it could have been the murderer—or murderers, plural. Suddenly Odelia’s phone sang out a pleasant tune, which may or may not have been belted out by Taylor Swift. “Oh, hey, Gran,” she said, as she held her phone aloft. “Yeah, we’re on deck right now, having breakfast.”
“What a life you lead,” said Gran. “So what’s all this I hear about a murder?”
“Lil Thug, the rapper I told you about, was murdered last night, and his diamond was stolen.”
“What do you mean, stolen? How can you steal a diamond when it’s glued to a guy’s face with Gorilla Glue?” Odelia arched a meaningful eyebrow, and we could hear a distinct gasp. “You mean they actually…”
Odelia nodded.
“No way!”
“Yep. Whoever killed him cut that diamond from his face. Pretty gruesome stuff.”
“You can say that again! So are you two involved in the case now or what?”
“Yeah. Garth Dagit, that’s the guy in charge of security, has asked us to help him conduct an investigation, since Chase is the only cop on board.”
“I don’t believe this. You’re supposed to be honeymooning, not crimebusting!”
“I know, but what can we do? We can’t just tell Garth to take a hike.”
“Of course you can.”
“No, we can’t. Besides, I want to know who’s responsible for this terrible crime, too. It happened right next to our cabin, you know.”
“Right next door,” Chase said.
“Oh, my God! That’s just terrible!”
“I know, right?”
“You know what you should do?”
“No, what?” said Odelia, frowning at her phone, and ready to receive some golden tip from Hampton Cove’s premier neighborhood watch commander.
“You should tell the captain that you’re going to help him solve this murder on one condition and one condition only: that he puts you up in his best suite, and agrees to comp your cabin and expenses. Oh, and your meals.”
“Oh, Gran,” said Odelia with a groan.
“It’s the least he can do!”
“No, we’re not going to do that.”
“You’re not getting paid to play detective, you know.”
“I know, but…”
“Next time you see the captain, you give me a ring and hand him your phone. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll arrange everything. Just you wait and see.”
“No, thanks.”
“Oh, you silly, silly child.”
“Why doesn’t Odelia want the captain to give her a better cabin, Max?” asked Dooley.
“Because she doesn’t want to be a nuisance,” I said. “And besides, all the cabins are taken, so even if he wanted to put them in a better cabin, he couldn’t do it.”
Also, it sounded a little iffy for Odelia and Chase to ask the captain to comp them their entire trip in exchange for their help in solving his murder. Unethical, if you see what I mean. Then again, ethics has never been Gran’s strong suit.
Suddenly Odelia placed the phone next to us on the floor. And as I glanced at the device, I recognized a familiar face staring back at us. It was none other than Kingman!
“Hey, Max,” said the big cat. “Hi, Dooley. What’s this I hear about you getting involved in some murder business?”
“Yeah, a murder was committed last night,” I told our friend. “Right next to us, in fact.”
“And you didn’t hear nothing? You’re starting to lose your touch, Max.”
“I heard something, but then one hears a lot of noise on a big boat like this.”
“I’ll bet you’ll catch the killer,” said Kingman, sounding a little resigned about it. “Look, I hate to say this, Max, but things around here aren’t the same without you.”
“Is that so?” I must admit these words buoyed me up to some extent. One likes to feel one is indispensable, does one not—and hey, I’m only feline, you know, not Supercat.
“Yeah, for one thing Vesta’s been making a real nuisance of herself again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she seems to think she’s going to be some kind of influencer star or something, and has been snapping pictures for her Instagram and shooting videos for her YouTube channel.”
“So what kind of content is she posting?”
“Oh, this and that. I haven’t seen everything but mainly it’s beauty tips, and Vesta’s been going from store to store, asking to get clothes for free in exchange for posing with them on her YouTube and her Instagram.”
“Free clothes, huh?”
“Yeah, clothes and shoes and all kinds of accessories. Cosmetics, you name it.”
“And do these shops actually give her this stuff?”
“No, they don’t, which is why
she’s annoyed. She claims the stores are sabotaging her attempt at greatness, and she’s not happy about it.”
“I think before you can go around asking for free stuff you first need to be famous,” I said.
“That’s what I keep telling her!” said Kingman. “But she claims it’s the other way around. First you get all kinds of free stuff and that’s how you get famous.”
“Oh, well,” I said. Gran’s shenanigans frankly paled in comparison with the murder of Lil Thug.
“You guys keep up the good work,” said Kingman, “and I’ll try to keep Vesta from floating off into space and getting entirely too cocky for her own good.” He produced a deep sigh. “It’s a tough job but now that you’re not here someone’s got to do it.”
And with these wise words, he signed off.
I glanced up at Odelia and said, “Please tell me that Garth is searching the cabins for that diamond? And that second earring?”
“Oh, you can bet your tiny tush he is,” said Odelia with a smile as she picked up her phone. “So maybe within the next hour we’ll know who’s responsible for the murder.”
“If that were true, this would be the shortest murder investigation in history,” I said.
Somehow, though, I doubted it would be so easy.
13
Garth Dagit had set up a series of interviews, and since Odelia wanted me and Dooley present, we were led into the man’s office, causing him to give us a look of surprise. But since he was basically a kindhearted man, he didn’t say a word when we settled in for the duration in the corner of his office and made ourselves comfortable.
I wished Odelia had brought along our litter boxes, but who was I to get prissy? We were there to do a job, and by golly we were going to do it. After all, dogs managed to restrain themselves for hours at a time, so we should be able to follow their example.
Much to my delight, Garth found it in his heart to place a bowl of water in front of us, so at least we wouldn’t be suffering from a parched throat. Like I said: a good man.
“So did you find anything?” asked Odelia.
“We didn’t find the diamond, and we didn’t find the matching earring, but we did find something of interest in the Ketterings’ cabin.” And he produced a clear plastic bag with some kind of white piece of cloth inside. There were red marks on the cloth, which would have aroused Garth’s suspicion.
“Let’s ask them when they come in.”
“Oh, and I hope you don’t mind, but I already interviewed the Bileses. They said they wanted to leave for the day, so I had them come in.”
“That’s all right. We talked to them at breakfast, didn’t we, Chase?”
Chase nodded as he studied the security man’s little office. It was pretty nondescript: several pictures of a nautical nature bedecked the walls, and one very large picture of Garth posing in front of a lighthouse, a big smile on his face.
“For the rest no dice,” said Garth sadly. “We searched all the cabins but so far nothing. I asked the cleaners to keep an eye out, but I’m not holding out much hope.”
“Do you trust your cleaners?”
“Oh, absolutely. If they find that stone, they’ll hand it over.”
“But if the stone isn’t in one of the cabins, then where is it?”
“No idea.”
“The killer must have hidden it where we wouldn’t find it,” said Chase as he thoughtfully rubbed his chin.
“But where?” asked Odelia. “If the stone was in one of those cabins you would have found it by now.”
“Unless the killer kept it on his or her person,” said Garth.
“Now that’s a distinct possibility,” Odelia agreed. “So do you have the authority to frisk these people?”
“I do,” Garth confirmed. “On the captain’s authority. But he told me to go easy on them and not treat them like suspects. They’re valued clients, and cruise line management doesn’t want to antagonize people.”
“They do understand that a man was murdered last night?”
“Of course, but they also know that we have two thousand paying customers on board, and they don’t want to ruin their vacation, or inconvenience them in any way.”
“It’s hard to fight crime with one hand tied behind your back,” said Chase, as he sympathetically clapped the other man on the shoulder.
They all took a seat behind the desk of the security officer, then a tap at the door sounded, and after Garth had bellowed, “Enter!” the influencer couple strode in, looking extremely uncomfortable. I almost hadn’t recognized them without their ubiquitous selfie sticks. Last night’s murder must have shaken them to a certain extent.
“Please take a seat,” said Garth kindly, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. “You know Chase Kingsley and Odelia Poole. They will assist me in carrying out an inquiry into the death of Lil Thug. Chase is a police officer, and Odelia a police consultant. Together I hope we’ll be able to shed some light on this terrible tragedy.”
“So what happened? Is it true that Lil Thug was murdered?” asked Oren nervously.
“I’m afraid he was. Murdered and robbed,” said Garth as he leaned forward and took in the twosome. “Now I’m going to ask you a couple of questions, and even though you don’t have to respond if you don’t want to, I think it’s in your best interest if you cooperate.”
“Of course,” said Oren. “What do you want to know?”
“First off, does this earring look familiar to you?” Garth held out the plastic baggie with the earring inside.
Both influencers shook their heads. “I don’t wear earrings,” said Chiquita.
“Me neither,” said Oren. “Also, it looks kinda cheap.”
Garth studied the earring with a frown. “It does?”
“Did you know Mr. Thug?” asked Chase.
“Not personally, if that’s what you mean,” said Oren. “I knew of him, of course. Everyone does.”
“We did have a quick chat with him yesterday,” said Chiquita. “I asked him if he wanted to feature in one of our videos.”
“He respectfully declined,” said Oren.
“Yeah, he said he was a great admirer of the kind of work we did, but didn’t feel comfortable featuring in videos destined to create a profit for us.”
“He then referred us to his manager,” said Oren ruefully.
“Which I guess is understandable.”
“Can you give us an idea of the activities you two engaged in last night?” asked Odelia.
“Well, we decided to go to bed early,” said Oren, “since Chiquita wasn’t feeling well.”
“I had a headache,” said Chiquita, “and since Oren didn’t want to stay out by himself, we got back pretty early.”
“How early?”
“Ten o’clock? Something like that.”
Garth consulted his notebook and nodded. Apparently the statement jibed with the footage he’d pulled from the camera at the entrance to the corridor.
“And then what did you do?”
“I took an ibuprofen and went straight to bed,” said Chiquita.
“And how about you, Mr. Vittle?” asked Garth.
“Well, I did the same,” said Oren. “Not the ibuprofen, but I got into bed at the same time. Took me a while to fall asleep, but when I did, I must say I slept like a log.”
“Same here,” said Chiquita. “And when I woke up this morning, my headache was gone—thank God.”
“You’re here to work?” asked Odelia.
“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” said Oren, nervously licking his lips. “We splashed out pretty big for this cruise, and we need to make it worth our while.”
“And how do you do that?”
“Well, we shoot videos and post them on our YouTube channel A Good Planet with Oren and Chiquita, and the more views we get, the more we get paid. So we try to make our videos as exciting and interesting as possible, to attract more followers.”
“Tough business model,” said Chase.
> “Yeah, it can be pretty tough, but it beats sitting behind a desk crunching numbers.”
“I guess,” said Chase dubiously. Clearly he wasn’t a big fan of the influencer lifestyle.
“So how are you both settled, financially?” asked Garth. “Are you doing well, or… not so well?”
“Um…” Oren shared a look with Chiquita, and uttered an awkward laugh. “We’re doing very well, sir. In fact you could say business is booming. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”
“Oh, yeah. We’re making more money than we know what to do with right now.”
“That’s odd,” said Garth. “We talked to a witness this morning who overheard you two arguing yesterday. Something about financial problems? And about the way you don’t see eye to eye on what your goals are?”
“A witness?” said Oren, scooting forward on his chair. “What witness?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you. But this person overheard you two arguing about the nature of your business. Chiquita here wants to focus more on the environmental challenges our planet is facing, while you, Oren, you just want to make money, plain and simple. And the fact that you’re here on this ship is a point of contention between the two of you, isn’t that right? Chiquita doesn’t feel entirely happy about this trip, which Oren more or less talked you into. Feel free to interrupt me, Oren—Chiquita?”
For a moment, neither influencer spoke. They both had that look on their faces of a person caught in a lie. “Look,” said Oren at length, “it’s true that we don’t always see eye to eye on everything. But that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Not see eye to eye?” Chiquita burst out. “You’re kidding, right?” She turned to Garth, her face flushed. “He wanted to save the planet… by going on a cruise! Can you imagine? Not exactly a low-impact, sustainable holiday, right? So I told him this was a terrible idea, and we’d get plenty of flak from our followers. And guess what? I was right—they hate the idea!”
“That’s not true.”
“Hate it and hate us right now! They accuse us of selling out, and I don’t blame them.”