Chapter Six #3
She frowned. “Of course. Hey! Okay, state law enforcement, not as big and bright as that going around the country, but we’re
incredibly well-trained, we work—”
“Stop! Please!” he begged her, grinning. “I didn’t mean in that way. I just meant, well, you know, this takes an emotional
toll. I mean, I’m not bugging you when I play with your hair or—”
“You stop! Yes, you’re cute enough, but not to worry—I’m not going to turn around and attack you or throw myself into your
arms!” she told him, grinning.
He shook his head, laughing, as well. “I’m just asking because it’s natural to become frustrated!”
“Well, in this field, we spend most of our lives frustrated.” She winced. “Now I didn’t mean—”
“And I didn’t mean to imply!”
Chloe laughed again softly. “Okay, so I say that we get to Ocho Rios and do the Dunn’s River Falls. Have a lovely lunch—and
another hour and a half bus trip back to the ship. Then, we shower and change, grab dinner—and hit the dance floor and then
the casino. You a gambler?”
“Not really, though the powers that be have allowed us a little bit of a budget. And, yeah, I can play poker, craps, or . . .
Well, anyone can play roulette,” he said with a shrug. “And you?”
“I can play a mean slot machine if I must,” she told him, before frowning. “Hm, not. I’m not taking taxpayer money into any
big games!”
“Fine, you can play the cheapest slots, and I’ll see what’s there when we go in. And, more importantly, who’s there,” he said.
“That works for me!” Chloe agreed. “I can take the couch—”
“Take it tomorrow night,” he told her. “We’ll be a great deal more tired!”
Chloe, grinning, shook her head and retired into the cabin’s bedroom.
She peeked out for a minute. “Such a gentleman!” she told him.
“I told you when we boarded—”
“Just kidding! I don’t mind my nights on the bed at all!”
Chloe disappeared into the bedroom.
Wes sat on the sofa, smiling for a minute. Playing husband and wife on this was no hardship. The longer they worked together . . .
The more he liked her.
The more he respected her, too.
But, of course, he was human. And no matter what the color of her hair, Chloe was a truly beautiful young woman. She could
be quick to smile . . .
She could play a part incredibly.
And he was one hell of a liar. Frustrated? Oh, hell yeah! He could get frustrated.
But he could stop emotions and physical responses, too. He could, did and would. And most of the time, he was too busy reading
people to give much thought to his emotions or reactions to any stimuli.
He grabbed his pillow and his blanket and was just getting ready to throw them on the sofa when there was a tap on his door.
He hadn’t carried his weapon—the gun which had been created from plastic with a 3D printer—out on deck and while hanging out
in groups, because Chloe had easily been able to carry hers in her bag. At the tap, he hurried to his small suitcase to dig
around his clothing and find it, holding it to his back as he went to the door.
He looked through the peephole and frowned.
It was Markowitz.
Sliding the gun into the front of his pants, covered by his shirt, he quietly opened the door.
“I’m so sorry to bother you!” Markowitz said.
“It’s all right. What is it?”
“I just . . . well, I wanted to warn you. I mean, you and your wife, you seem like really nice, good people. That guy . . .
the big guy, Thompson, he wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you two.”
“I know that you’re getting off the ship and I respect you doing so, but—”
“No, I know you two don’t want to leave your cruise.
But be careful. I don’t like that lady. I wanted you to know that she was having a big fight with her husband in the casino.
He pretended it was over money. But I heard them.
And she just told him to shut up, that she was the breadwinner, he was lucky that she let him hang around.
I think that you need to be very careful around her, and I know that I sound like a paranoid kook, but . . .”
“No, no, I can understand your feelings. She can be very rude to him, but some people are just like that and—”
“Why does anyone stay? Unless she is promising something big!” Markowitz said.
Wes shook his head. “Who knows? All kinds make the world go around. But thank you. And the best to you and your wife. I hope
you’re able to have a good vacation sometime soon!”
Markowitz nodded. “I hope I’m just being paranoid. Well, please, do be careful. You have a brave and beautiful wife, sir.
Take care of her!”
“Not to worry, I intend to,” Wes assured him.
“Well, good night, then,” Markowitz told him. “The best to you, too.”
Markowitz turned to leave. Wes watched as he walked down the long hallway to the elevator.
He closed and locked the door.
He swung around, almost drawing his plastic weapon, but he smiled because he expected what he saw.
Chloe was there. She had changed into a long nightdress, but he knew that she stood by the door to the bedroom, half opened,
because she had her plastic gun out and she’d been standing there, quietly listening.
“You had my back,” he said.
“Always,” she promised him.“Did I miss anything?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing we didn’t know. Celia Henderson is a narcistic ballbuster and when people hear what she says to her husband, they don’t like her very much.”
“But it is possible that she’s much more. Possible that she’s been responsible for these deaths and that he’s scared, too,
doesn’t want to go to jail or wind up dead himself, and falls right into line so that something like that doesn’t happen.”
“He could go to the police,” Wes said.
“He could be too scared. Then again, maybe somewhere along the line, if she is the mastermind behind some imagined takeover,
he has plans to turn against her.”
Wes nodded. “Possibly,” he said softly.
“My fault. We should have gone dancing with them tonight.”
“How could you have known?”
“And, of course, we will be with them on an hour and a half bus ride!”
“Plenty of time to listen to the lovely couple argue.”
Chloe smiled and nodded. “Okay, well . . .”
“You were armed, right?” he asked her.
“Always. You know I carry one of our little plastic pieces at all times, just in case. And, of course, when I saw you open
the door, you had already dug your weapon out, too, right?” she asked him.
“I did. Which makes me think . . .”
“What’s that?”
“Tomorrow, bathing suits, almost nothing on . . .”
“Wes! Of course, I’ll have a bag. We need towels and our wallets, right?”
He laughed. “Yeah, of course. What was I thinking?”
She grinned. “That you’re frustrated?” she teased.
He groaned softly. “Okay, then. Good night. With any luck, we can just go to sleep now.”
“With any luck. Good night.”
She disappeared behind the door again.
Wes picked his pillow and blanket back up and stretched out on the sofa. He still lay awake. Lying down, he smiled for a minute.
Yeah, he was frustrated.
In many ways! But . . .
If Celia was guilty and she was planning something on this cruise . . .
Where and when did she intend to strike?