Love Overboard

Chapter 4

JON WOVE THROUGH THE GAUNTLET of sunbathers as he made his rounds on the upper deck. He passed a young man stretched out on a lounge chair. His pasty complexion and bushy beard would put any caveman to shame. Beside him slept a teenage girl with a smiley face drawn on her stomach in sunscreen.

She’ll regret that in the morning.

But he didn’t have time to offer unsolicited advice. How was he supposed to catch a band of smugglers when people kept asking so many questions? Passengers stopped him every few feet, and he gave the same responses over and over.

“The earlier dinner time has seats available.”

“There’s a shop on the promenade deck that sells Dramamine.”

“No, I can’t set you up with a cruise hostess, but I highly recommend the Single Mingle at midnight.”

At least three men asked the hostess question. Did they all mean Lacey? Not that he blamed them. He scanned the deck for the lady in question and noticed four aged heads bent together around a table. Collins’s suspicions replayed in his memory. A grandma drug syndicate? Sounded ridiculous even in his brain. But he had to check every angle.

Jon skirted the pool and found the Shippers sitting with a large purple-and-gold umbrella shielding them from the sun. A thick novel with a racy cover hid the thin one’s face, while Emily wrote in a binder, and the other two watched him approach, whispering behind raised hands.

“Good afternoon, ladies. How would you rate my opening speech yesterday?” Jon noted a spreadsheet Emily was working on and craned his neck for a closer look. “Did I pass muster?”

Emily shut the binder and nodded her head. “I think you’ll do, Jon.”

“That’s a relief. I really didn’t want to go back to washing dishes.”

“Did you work in the kitchen?”

“There’s hardly a place on board I haven’t worked. Busboy, steward, art auctioneer, photographer, waiter, disc jockey—”

“Your résumé must be an inch thick.” The large woman with the rhinestone-studded baseball cap and matching fanny pack who was sitting beside Emily interrupted him. “Couldn’t find a position you favored?”

“I don’t believe we’ve met, at least officially.” Jon held out a hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. Jonathan King, cruise director extraordinaire, at your service.”

“Mrs. Althea Jones.” She gave his hand a hearty shake. “Bingo player extraordinaire.”

“That’s a lovely name, Mrs. Althea Jones.”

“My father was an English teacher. He named me after his favorite poem.”

“Ah, Richard Lovelace. I remember from my college lit class: ‘When Love with unconfinèd wings hovers within my Gates, and my divine Althea brings to whisper at the Grates.’”

“Mmm-mmm.” Her eyes sparkled as she rested her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her laced fingers. “Baby, you must have to beat the ladies off with a stick.”

“Were you an English major?” The woman with the cat-eye spectacles spoke with her gaze still fastened on her novel.

“No, ma’am.”

“Call me Gerry. It’s short for Geraldine.”

“Thank you, Gerry. I wasn’t an English major. I just had a penchant for reading.” He reached out to the remaining unnamed woman at the table. “Jonathan King, ma’am.”

“Daisy Randolph Masterson. How do you do?”

She rested her manicured fingers against his, and he gently pressed them instead of shaking. Nobility encompassed her like an invisible mantle. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn she descended from a queen of England. She retrieved her hand and reclined on her chair, pulling the brim of her large black sun hat over one eye.

Emily clicked the top of her pen. “Where did you go to school?”

“Someplace I couldn’t find a decent taco.” Jon gave an exaggerated shudder.

“You’re a fan of tacos, then?”

“I’m Florida-grown. We’ve got some of the best food trucks in the country. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted the sweet fusion of juicy Korean bulgogi and spicy coleslaw wrapped in a fresh corn tortilla.” He pulled an empty chair out and sat next to Althea. “Did you ladies know each other before you came aboard?”

“Only Althea and Daisy.” Emily motioned to the women on her right. “They share the same hometown.”

“Where would that be?”

“The Big Easy,” Althea said.

“Ah, New Orleans natives. Were you friends for a long time?”

The two shook their heads, Daisy with her hat still covering half her face.

“Hardly,” she said. “We met a week before sailing.”

“It was my idea to share a cabin.” Althea leaned over and swallowed petite Daisy in an affectionate hug. “I was going to have to pay a single supplement without her. This way, it’s cheaper for both of us. She’s got me to thank for all this luxury.”

Daisy tilted her head and granted a soft smile to her roommate. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“But why a cruise ship?” Jon asked. “Doesn’t it get tedious? Visiting the same ports? Attending the same shows?”

Gerry poked her head out of her literary foxhole. “More tedious than an overpriced retirement community where the highlight of the year is a pack of screeching first graders singing Christmas carols?”

“Gerry.” Daisy stuck her hand up, her pinky tipping a little farther back than the rest of her fingers. “Mr. King doesn’t know you very well. He won’t understand you’re joking.”

“Who said I was joking?” Gerry mumbled as she descended into her book.

“Consider the facts, Jon.” Emily raised a finger and pointed at it with her ballpoint pen. “It costs approximately the same amount of money to live on board as a retirement community these days. But you make our beds, do our laundry, offer nightly shows, and provide a wide variety of food options.” She ticked off the amenities on her fingers. “We eat what we want, when we want, and have it delivered to our room if we don’t feel like going out—and it’s a lot better than cafeteria food.”

Jon admired their ingenuity. “I concede to your point.”

“Excuse me.” A pudgy man in a Speedo approached Jon. A bloated green snake tattoo with a rose in its mouth curled around his milky-white belly button. “My wife wants me to ask when the ballroom lessons start.”

“Day after tomorrow.” Jon stood. “I can help you register, if you’re interested.”

“Are you crazy?” The snake charmer lowered his voice. “Why don’t you schedule me a root canal while you’re at it? Day after tomorrow, you said? I’ll make sure I’m sick in bed.” He stalked away and caused a minor tidal wave when he jumped in the pool.

“Did you notice the artwork?” Daisy said. “Bless his heart.”

“I bet that python was a grass snake twenty years ago.” Gerry quipped from behind her novel.

Althea laughed and slapped her on the back.

Jon clocked a familiar shabby Hawaiian shirt and Collins’s face frowning above it in the distance. The detective made eye contact. His head jerked to the right before he headed for the stairs, and Jon pushed in his chair. “I’d love to stay longer, but I should continue my rounds. We’re docking in Cozumel tomorrow. A port call generates lots of questions. Are any of you getting off the boat?”

“Why yes,” said Daisy. “The ship’s manicurist recommended a little salon we plan to visit.”

“Be sure to tell me if you need anything.” He tapped the table with his knuckles.

“Good talking to you, Jon.” Emily rested her pen against her chin. “I’m glad the Lord brought you to our ship. I’m sure he had a good reason.”

“He always does,” Jon agreed.

“So you’re on speaking terms with the Almighty?”

“Every single day.”

Emily’s smile broadened. “That’s good to hear. I hope you and I can get better acquainted soon.”

“My pleasure.” Jon bowed his head in a courtly fashion and left the ladies on the upper half of the lido deck. He headed in the direction Collins had gone. As Jon descended the stairs, he spotted Lacey a few feet away, observing him. He jumped down the last two steps and approached her. “Good morning!”

“What were you talking about?” She manufactured a counterfeit smile with both rows of teeth showing, then pointed above his head.

Jon looked up. Three of the four women peered over the rail like a row of expectant children watching for Santa Claus. He waved with a big grin. “This and that. They’re quite the characters.”

“Keep on your guard.” Lacey turned her back to them, and her smile disappeared. “The Shippers will have you tied down before you can blink.”

“Tied down?” Jon’s muscles tensed.

“Married. They imagine themselves the ship’s unofficial marriage brokers. They already matched two couples in the crew and reconciled one set of passengers who were on the brink of divorce.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” The left side of Jon’s mouth quirked upward.

“Absolutely. If you want to be married. But if you don’t, no amount of argument will dissuade them. Once they have you in their cross-hairs, you might as well start shopping for a tuxedo.”

Jon pictured himself in formal wear. His vision of the future quickly shifted to the woman beside him at the altar—Lacey in a flowing white dress. Beautiful. He tried to pull his attention back to the conversation, but a breeze playing with her hair distracted him. A shiny strand dipped and swayed above her long eyelashes in a flirtatious, silken dance. Should he fix it?

“Jon?”

“Hmm?” He ignored the blond temptation and focused on Lacey. Time to pull it together before he found himself dumped by the same woman again. The first experience hurt enough. Besides, he had bigger issues to worry about than dating. His family’s reputation was on the line, he had responsibilities, and Collins was waiting for him.

Emily and her friends didn’t miss a second of the drama playing out below. The Shippers observed everything from their chairs on the deck, except for Daisy, who lounged with eyes closed under her sun hat.

“This new candidate is a good choice.” Gerry nodded her head, settled back on her seat, and pulled her laptop from the canvas bag at her side.

“Isn’t he perfect?” Emily clasped her small hands and squeezed her shoulders so tight they formed tiny, euphoric points. “I’m sure we’re on the right track this time.”

“I see why you switched horses.” Althea patted Emily’s leg and gave her a thumbs-up. “If I were ten years younger!”

“If you were twenty years younger, you’d still be old enough to be his mother.” Gerry typed on her computer without looking at the keyboard.

“Age is just a number, baby.” Althea rose from her chair, took off her fanny pack, and smoothed the fabric of her bright-red swimsuit with sparkly pink strawberries on it. “Seventeen years separated me and my third husband, and he had zero complaints. I must admit, I enjoyed being the older woman. We never needed an electric blanket in our marriage.” She sashayed to the nearby hot tub, climbed in, and sat between two men.

“I’ve created a new file on Jonathan King.” Gerry paused with her fingers poised over the keyboard. “What did we gather from our conversation?”

Emily studied her binder. “He talks to God. A major point in his favor. Born and raised in Florida. Attended college somewhere else. Didn’t major in English literature. Likes poetry and tacos.” She threw her pen on the table. “Not much to go on. Are we losing our touch?”

Gerry entered what little they had gleaned. “Was it my imagination, or was he being evasive?”

“You aren’t imagining things,” Daisy drawled from under her hat. “My late husband used to answer questions the exact same way. He would change the subject and have you off on a rabbit trail before you knew it.”

Emily’s gaze followed Jon as he walked away from Lacey on the lower deck. “My bones tell me he’s one of the good ones, but we have to be careful. Gerry, you’re the research queen. Fire up the internet engines. Let’s find out a little more about Mr. King before we give him the official Shipper stamp of approval.”

“Is that the old lady you told me about?” Collins smacked his gum as he rested his girth against the metal railing.

Jon surveyed the flocks of sun-drenched tourists. No one was close enough to hear them. “Emily Windsor. And she’s got three friends who are equally curious. I’m not sure who was grilling whom back there. Lace … someone I know, called them the Shippers. She said they live on board year-round and amuse themselves by matchmaking. Which might explain why they asked so many questions. I’ll keep an eye on them, but I’m pretty sure it’s a dead end.”

“Do we dock in Cozumel tomorrow?”

“Yes. Because it’s festival time, we bypassed our usual stop in Progreso and are spending two days in the Cozumel port as opposed to the normal one and done.”

Collins spit his gum over the side of the ship and drew a fresh piece from his pocket. “Prime time to sneak a stash aboard.” He unwrapped the stick and shoved it in his mouth. “Are the grandmas planning to get off?”

“They said something about visiting a salon. But I don’t—”

“Got it.” Collins raised both hands. “You don’t think it’s them. But go with me on this. I’ll trail the old biddies a while, mark their names off the suspect list, and then we have fewer people to track. Make sense?”

Jon shrugged. It was corporate’s idea to bring the retired FBI agent on the case, and he’d come highly recommended by their general manager, who’d worked with Collins on another cruise line. The idea sounded good at the time, but now he was beginning to wonder. Was the man on the job or enjoying a free vacation? Either way, while Collins was wasting his time on the wrong people, Jon would monitor the crew members. Port time provided a golden opportunity for an off-duty worker to make a pickup.

His phone buzzed, and he checked his text messages. Being the cruise director, he got plenty. Jon’s eyebrows scrunched as he read.

“Bad news?” Collins asked.

“It’s a message from Emily Windsor.”

“You gave her your number?”

“No.”

The detective chuckled. “Resourceful woman. What does she want?”

Jon rubbed his neck. “She says Lacey’s at the front desk, and she’s thirsty.”

“Lacey? Ah, that someone you know you started to mention earlier. Why is the old lady telling you this?”

“Guess I should’ve paid more attention when Lacey warned me the Shippers’ hobby is matchmaking.”

“Or they’re onto you and trying to divert your attention elsewhere,” Collins said.

Jon tapped his phone against his hip. This was going to be a problem. Balancing the investigation with regular cruise director duties was difficult enough without a bunch of well-meaning but insistent busybodies pushing him toward romance. Even if the woman they had in mind was the one that got away.