Love Overboard

Chapter 11

FISH SKELETONS WITH PREHISTORIC-SIZED teeth decorated the chalkboard ceiling of Hibachi Coast, the MS Buckingham’s Japanese restaurant. Multicolored glass ocean creatures hung on the walls. Their comedic pupils bulged at anyone who dared to look at them. Emily ignored the fanciful decorations as she and her fellow Shippers settled in at a booth for their once-a-week treat of the ship’s private dining options. She opened her binder and spread her notes on the table.

“Aw, baby.” Althea stared at the stacks of paper. “Can’t it wait till after dinner? I’m starving.”

“Just a short strategy meeting. Then we can order the food.”

“But the sushi’s calling my name.” Althea cast a longing glance at the bar, where a chef wrapped the fresh seaweed rolls in front of waiting diners.

“It won’t take long.” Emily passed a one-sheet summary to each woman. “They always bring miso soup.”

“But me so hungry.” Althea nudged Daisy with an elbow, and her roommate chuckled obediently.

Gerry took out her spectacles and studied the handout on Jon. The short list of details regarding their cruise director didn’t even fill half the page. “Not much to go on, is it?”

“What new information have you found?” Emily held her pen above the paper, ready to write.

“I combed the social media sites,” Gerry said. “He’s not listed on any of them. I even tried the Florida government page. I found thirteen men with the name Jonathan King in Fort Lauderdale alone. Who knew it was such a common name? In the end, I got zilch.”

Emily dropped her pen. “Nothing?”

Gerry leaned back on the bench seat, crossed her arms, and wrapped her long fingers around her elbows. “I employed all the usual methods. When using his name didn’t work, I ran an image search on Google. I even checked the sex offender registry, but still nothing.”

“Thank heaven for that,” Daisy said, shivering.

Althea grabbed a cloth napkin from the table and spread it across her lap. “What do we do now?”

Gerry rubbed the nape of her neck. “Without a hometown or the name of his school to narrow the results, there are way too many Jonathan Kings in the public records. It would take forever to sift through the agglomeration. Details. We have to find them.”

Emily reached over and patted Gerry’s arm. “You’ve done your best, dear. But the fact that we can’t easily locate any information is highly suspicious. Let’s consider other options.”

Daisy’s drawl was tinged with a hint of trepidation. “Such as?”

“Tell me, Gerry.” Emily picked up her pen and slid it in her pocket. “Don’t you have a cousin who’s a retired detective?”

“Yes, I do.” Her sudden catlike smile matched her spectacles. “And as a matter of fact, he owes me a favor.”

“Wonderful.” Emily closed her binder. “Give him Jonathan King’s name and profession and see what he can uncover. We’ll continue this discussion after your cousin does some research. Meeting adjourned.”

Althea’s arm shot in the air. “Waiter.”

One round of miso and two appetizers later, the Shippers dug into the main course.

“They hired a new magician for the after-dinner show,” Althea said around a mouthful of chicken katsu. “We should go.”

“I lost my interest in magic shows at the age of twelve,” Emily said.

“Think of it as matchmaker research. A new man means a new workup for our employee files. You’re the one who insists we keep them updated.”

“She’s right.” Gerry squeezed her chopsticks to grab a lone fried dumpling on the appetizer plate. “He might be a prospective client.”

Daisy set her fork down and fingered the high neckline of her dark cotton blouse. “I’m not dressed for a show. I’ll have to change first.”

Althea waved her fork. “You’re wearing black from top to toe. That’s dressy enough. I bet some people will come in flip-flops.”

Daisy smoothed her shirt and buttoned it at the collar. After reaching in her purse, she withdrew a rose-tinted cameo brooch and pinned it at her neck. “I suppose you’re right. Young people these days lack proper fashion sense.”

“Or common sense.” Gerry pushed her plate away. “It’s settled, then. Let’s head to the show.”

They left the restaurant, maneuvered through the crowded lobby, and entered the main auditorium. Emily led them to their usual couch in front of the stage, and the Shippers made themselves comfortable. The opening numbers remained the same. An overblown master of ceremonies in a flashy blue-sequined jacket introduced the next performers, and an energetic samba group spilled onto the stage. The dancers jiggled and shimmied to the syncopated music.

Emily’s attention wandered to her friends. Althea clapped along even though she’d watched the show many times. Gerry’s eyes held the faraway look she got when she was plotting a new story, and Daisy had shut her eyes altogether. The Southern matron wore a pained expression.

Daisy whispered, “Those women haven’t got enough clothes between them for one decent outfit.”

“Bless their hearts.” Althea squinted. “Not a panty line to be seen on any of them. I wonder if the men are wearing thongs.”

Emily couldn’t care less about the performers’ underwear. She scrutinized the room, but Lacey wasn’t there. She’d been out of sight since Punta Verdad. The hardworking hostess was usually easy to spot. Was she angry enough to cut them out completely? Emily sucked the inside of her cheek between her teeth and chewed. Perhaps they had gone a bit far … Emily straightened at the thought, rejecting it. They would go further still if it meant helping Lacey find love.

A deafening crescendo jolted Emily from her musings. The MC dashed from behind the curtain and bellowed into his microphone.

“We hope you’re enjoying the entertainment, ladies and gentlemen. You’re going to love this next guy, a new addition to our Monarch family. We imported him straight from Ireland for your entertainment pleasure. Please put your hands together for Seamus O’Riley.”

A man in his late sixties dressed in an old-fashioned tuxedo with pointy tails, white silk vest, and matching bow tie strutted onstage carrying a small magician’s table with a black velvet cloth covering the top. Streaks of silver ran through his Celtic red hair.

“Saints preserve us, we have a beautiful crowd tonight.” He wore a face mic and gestured at the auditorium with both hands.

Gerry squirmed. “Is that accent for real?”

“Shhhh.” Daisy smacked her well-manicured fingers on her friend’s arm.

“Are you ready to be amazed?” The magician walked to the edge of the stage and cupped his hand to his ear.

Cheers and whistles answered.

“Let’s heat things up.” He clapped above his head, and a fireball shot from his fingers.

“Oh, mercy!” Althea jumped, clutching the front of her shirt.

Seamus looked at the row of Shippers. His focus swept the four ladies, resting a few seconds longer on Gerry, who sat with her arms crossed over her chest. He reached behind his back, and a full-size top hat appeared. Seamus placed the chapeau at a jaunty angle on his head and patted the crown.

“Let me ask you,” he said. “What does a magician always require?”

“A rabbit,” someone called.

“Can’t stand the furry beasts.” Seamus shook his head. “No. I was referring to a beautiful assistant.” He plucked a microphone from under the cloth on his table, shielded his vision against the bright spotlights, and studied the audience. “Is there anyone willing to volunteer?”

Althea raised her hand and pumped it up and down. “Ooooh. Right here!”

His gaze lowered to the row in front of him. “Wait. I found the perfect lady.” He hopped off the stage, stood in the aisle, and held the microphone out to Gerry.

The woman drew herself taut with the austerity of fifty years in the public library system. “I did not volunteer.”

“Maybe you were volun-told.” Seamus’s green eyes sparkled, and the audience laughed and cheered.

“Do it, baby.” Althea pushed her off her seat and into the aisle.

Gerry’s lips pinched together, but she took the mic and followed the magician, ignoring the hand he offered her at the steps. They reached center stage and stood side by side. She topped him by a full head.

He grinned up at her. “I always did fancy someone taller.”

“Me too,” Gerry droned into the microphone.

The crowd roared.

Seamus made a dramatic show of wiping his brow. “I think I’ll need all the fairies in Ireland to help me with this one.”

Emily chuckled at her friend’s embarrassing predicament, but her attention wandered as she scanned the room again. Gilded Corinthian columns rose from the ground floor to the balcony. Every seat was full. Staff in white uniforms walked the aisles, serving trays of refreshments to the passengers, but still no sign of Lacey. Was she avoiding them? Emily’s conscience prickled. If the girl detested the idea of a relationship that much, perhaps they should leave her alone.

No. Lacey deserved to be happy, whether she wanted to be or not. Emily wasn’t sure what had locked the poor girl up tighter than a fortress, but Jon might be the man who could scale the unbreachable walls of her heart.

“Don’t act so pained, my darlin’.” Seamus beamed at Gerry as he waved to a stagehand behind the curtain. “One trick to go.”

Two crew members wheeled out a tall black box with a window cut out of the front.

Gerry glared at the massive prop. “You don’t expect to lock me in that thing, do you?”

“Only if I can climb in with you.” He elbowed her. “Two’s company.”

“Company,” Emily murmured from the front row. She smacked a fist against her palm. “That’s it.”

Althea shuddered beside her. “The last time I saw that look, they almost made us walk the plank.”

Emily stole a glance at her watch. How much longer till the show ended? She had to return to HQ and draft the new mission.

This one would be groundbreaking. Every bone in her body confirmed it.