Love Overboard

Chapter 3

“CRUISE DIRECTOR IS THE PERFECT COVER.” The man lounging across from Jon tugged on the front of his wrinkled Hawaiian shirt as its buttons made a valiant attempt to join the overextended fabric. He threaded a hand through his graying hair and leaned back in the office chair. Reid Collins looked more like a retired accountant from Baltimore than a now-private detective who’d spent thirty years in the FBI.

Jon forced his attention away from the white T-shirt peekabooing from the gaping holes in the man’s outfit—though he was grateful for the barrier it offered from the skin beneath—and adjusted the stapler on his desk. “Not that I object to the job, but why is it perfect?”

“You have the run of the ship, and no one will question you for being up in people’s business. Watch for the warning signs. People traveling alone. Passengers arriving from a day in port with large amounts of luggage. Jumpy crew members.”

Jon typed into his computer. “Have you noticed anyone suspicious?”

“Lots.” Collins popped a piece of gum in his mouth. “You can’t dismiss anyone. I remember one drug ring I busted on a cruise ship in ’99 was headed by a seventy-year-old grandma. She tried to plead senility.”

Jon made another note. “I met a woman like that today. She lives on board the ship.”

“Did you catch her name?”

“Emily Windsor. A very friendly lady. But I doubt she has anything to do with this. Too nice.”

Collins smirked. “You’d be amazed how many nice people I’ve slapped the cuffs on through the years. Have any of the crew appeared overly interested in the missing cruise director?”

“No. More like relieved he’s gone. I don’t think they cared for Newberg much. Apparently, he was great at schmoozing the passengers but was a stuck-up snob to the employees.”

“I understand he died while everyone was off ship for repairs.” Collins yanked a small notebook from his pocket and flipped the pages. “Dexter Newberg. Age thirty-two. Found floating in the ocean with enough cocaine in his system to choke a horse. The police wrote it off as an accidental drowning due to overdose.” He snapped his gum. “Good thing Monarch’s general manager still had my number and gave me a call. How ’bout you give me some background on this case in your own words?”

“It’s not uncommon for people to sneak recreational drugs on a cruise for party purposes.” Jon closed the lid of his laptop. “But large amounts of narcotics are showing up on Monarch ships with alarming frequency. Two months ago, a drug-sniffing dog unearthed five kilos of cocaine on the MS Versailles in the wall behind a crew member’s toilet, and last week, the FBI busted a couple of passengers on the MS Alhambra smuggling more cocaine in hollowed-out Virgin Mary statues. Tabloids got ahold of the story and slapped us with the label Ship of Sin. My deacon father strongly objected to that term. After all, we bill ourselves as family friendly and don’t even offer casinos, unlike a lot of the other cruise lines. This situation puts a major dent in our squeaky-clean image. The PR department isn’t happy.”

“Too many scandals, too close together.” Collins nodded. “Be glad you brought in an expert from the outside. Can’t trust anyone on board.”

No. There was one person he could trust. Jon’s thoughts drifted to Lacey. Intelligent and loyal to a fault, she’d be a valuable asset in the search for a culprit. Maybe I could—

The memory of Dexter Newberg’s swollen, waterlogged body stopped that thought cold. He’d seen pictures of the corpse, and they weren’t pretty. The idea of putting Lacey in harm’s way was unthinkable. Better keep her as far from this as possible.

Collins spit his gum in the trash can by the desk. “What’s our first move?”

“My first move is to give the welcome orientation.” Jon stood from behind the desk. “Time to distribute door prizes.”

“Hey, babe, can you get me one of those drinks with the little umbrellas?” A middle-aged man with a too-tight T-shirt, a diamond stud earring, and jet-black hair that didn’t match his thinning eyebrows stopped in front of Lacey.

“I’m so glad you asked me.” She’d perfected the art of answering stupid questions with a believable smile. “But we don’t offer beverage service during our welcome orientation. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“What!” His voice rose, and the female companion holding his arm cringed. “That lifeboat practice took forever, and I still can’t get a drink?”

“The muster drill can be a bit overwhelming, can’t it?” Lacey made sure her tone was appropriately consoling. “We have bottled water on a table in the hall if you’re thirsty, but if you’re willing to wait, I promise our cruise director will make this orientation worth your time.”

He sucked a giant breath through his nose and tilted his head forward, but his girlfriend tugged on his sleeve. “I’ll mention this in my online review.” He glared at Lacey as he emphasized the words.

“There’s also a phone number for customer service on the card in your cabin.” Her smile remained at full capacity. “Have a wonderful cruise, sir.”

She left the man with the midlife crisis and found the whole Shipper posse waiting with sympathetic expressions.

“Don’t listen to him, sugar.” Daisy laid a hand on her arm. “That kind is never satisfied.”

Althea wrapped her soft arms around Lacey. “You give me a squeeze and forget all about him.”

“I’m surprised to see you here.” Lacey patted Althea’s back before she let go. “Don’t you usually skip the embarkation meeting? You must have the speech memorized by now.”

Gerry waved her novel. “Never fear. I came prepared.”

Emily stood clasping a pen and a black three-ring binder. “Besides, this embarkation features the new director’s welcome speech. We want to check him out.”

As if on cue, Jon poked his head into the group. “I love it when beautiful women check me out. Be sure to let me know how I rate.” He pointed a cheesy finger gun at her. “You too, Lace.”

Lacey’s eyes started to roll upward, but she stopped them in time.

Jon held two elbows out to the women at his sides. “May I escort you ladies to your seats?”

“Yes indeedy.” Althea grabbed an arm before he even finished making the offer, and signaled for Daisy to take the other.

“How kind of you.” Daisy placed her hand in the crook of his arm. She received his attention as if it were owed her. Jon accompanied them down the aisle, bending his head toward Althea as she chattered. Gerry and Emily followed in their wake, part of the honored procession.

Lacey watched as the group passed rows of sturdy navy-blue couches and chairs until they reached the front. Jon waited while they settled, then walked up the center stairs and onto the stage. He studied the room and rested his gaze on her for a brief instant before he raised his microphone.

“Ahoy, everyone. Welcome to the MS Buckingham. Are you ready for the best vacation of your life?”

Hoots and hollers answered.

“You came to the right place. Let me ask another question. Is this the first cruise for anyone?”

Hands rose around the room.

“Whether this is your first time or you’re an old sea dog like my friend Emily”—he motioned to her on the row below him and winked—“I’ll try to keep this short and sweet so you can get out of here and hit the buffet.”

“I’m in no hurry.” On Lacey’s left, a ruby redhead wearing cutoff jeans and a neon pink tank top snickered with her friend. She flipped open the bejeweled case on her cell phone and recorded Jon as he made his speech. “Keep talking, hot stuff.” She perched on the edge of a row, leaned out at a precarious angle with her device pointed at the stage, and pinched at the screen to enlarge the picture. “Whoo, check out the muscles.”

Lacey paused for all of five seconds before she wandered into the aisle and stood a few feet in front of the redhead. After years of being asked to “take a quick picture” for social media junkies, she knew camera angles cold. If she calculated correctly, this should be the spot.

“Hey,” the woman behind her whispered. “You’re in my shot.”

Lacey pretended not to hear.

“Cruise ship lady. Hey!” The woman’s voice got louder.

People shushed her, and she sat on her seat with an offended huff.

Lacey enjoyed the silent victory—until she surveyed the auditorium and saw at least seven other females with their phones out. Call her cynical, but she didn’t think they were recording Jonathan King for informational purposes.

Fine. Let them drool. What did it matter to her? It wasn’t like she’d never been leered at by a passenger. It was part and parcel of working on a cruise ship. Inappropriate people did inappropriate things. Jon was getting ogled. So what?

“Lacey.”

Her attention jerked to the stage, where Jon was motioning for her.

“Can you join me please?”

Lacey smiled bigger and shook her head.

“Oh, come on.” Jon waved his arm a little more.

Lacey shook her head a lot more.

“Looks like she’s shy.” Jon grinned at the crowd. “How about a round of applause for encouragement?”

The crowd cheered and clapped.

“La-cey. La-cey. La-cey.” Jon chanted into the mic, and the audience chimed in.

Her name echoed through the room, and Lacey hurried forward to make it stop. She climbed up the stairs to center stage. The last step was wider, and Jon held out a hand to assist her. She grabbed it and dug her nails into his fingers. His bottom teeth showed as he smile-grimaced and pulled away.

“Can we get another microphone for our fabulous hostess?” Jon called to a worker backstage.

Lacey faced the audience. The house lights were up, and she had a clear view of the entire room. Tiny-Umbrella Man slouched in the sixth row with his arms crossed, still pouting. Leering Lady in the back curled her lips and eyed her with disdain. And the Shippers were front and center, observing everything. Daisy sat with perfect posture, while Althea whispered in her ear. Emily took Gerry’s book, handed her the binder and pen, then raised her phone and pointed it at the stage. A crew member appeared with the extra microphone and passed it to Lacey.

“Don’t worry,” Jon said. “I won’t make you sing.”

“If you value your life.” Her smile dripped honey and her voice retribution.

The passengers laughed and applauded.

“I’m going to let you in on a secret.” Jon leaned out to the crowd and whispered. “This is my first cruise too, at least on this ship, so I wanted to introduce the woman with the answers. Anything I don’t know, she does. Take note of her uniform. She, or any other person wearing this white jacket with gold buttons, is your sailing sage. If you have any questions, please ask.”

“How about a date tonight?” A college-aged guy stood from the front row on the left side and leaned his arms on the stage.

Jon bristled, but Lacey spoke into her mic.

“You’d have to get permission from the captain first.”

The young man stuck his bottom lip out, and his friends jeered as they dragged him to his seat.

Jon maneuvered to stand between the frat boys and her. “Trust me, you’ll have to take a number and get in line for a date with Lacey.”

“What number do you have?” Another voice from the audience called out.

Jon flinched. “Not high enough.”

The listeners moaned.

He shrugged and looked at her. Their eyes connected.

Suddenly, Lacey’s feet didn’t feel so steady. Had the ship hit a rough patch? It must be motion sickness. Breathe, girl.

In and out.

In and out.

She was going to need a Lamaze coach before this cruise finished. For breathing. Not for anything—Whatever.

Lacey tore her gaze away and found the Shippers. They sat in a row like four satisfied cats eyeing a bowl of cream. Gerry scribbled in the binder. Althea fanned herself with splayed fingers. Daisy hid her mouth behind a handkerchief. And Emily popped a piece of butterscotch candy past a pair of smiling lips.

Lacey’s neck tingled like Marie Antoinette’s as she was led to the guillotine. Was it too late to swim back to shore?