12. Cabin & Closets
P oppy tried to avoid replaying this afternoon’s conversation with Calliope as she soaked in the large tub in her bathroom.
She hadn’t thought she would be able to bring herself to get in a tub again after seeing Patrice’s body, but it was her favourite place in the world and she’d desperately needed to relax, so she’d decided the best way to get over it would be to get under the water.
Instead of inducing a panic attack, the warm water had turned her muscles to mush while the lavender fragrance washed away her stress.
She groaned when the phone on the bathroom wall rang; there was no way she was going to answer, in case it was Calliope trying to set up another dinner date.
At least she didn’t have to worry about running into her at the opera tomorrow night.
Thankfully, the phone stopped ringing quickly, allowing her to relax again.
“Can I come in?” Isaiah asked, tapping lightly on the door just as she closed her eyes.
“Come in,” Poppy called, making sure she was covered by a blanket of bubbles.
As he entered, he focused his gaze on the marble tiles. She found his bashful concern for her privacy adorable.
“I got a call from the reception desk. I need to head down. Are you okay here for a while?”
“Poppy, do you have any moisturiser?” Mina walked into the bathroom, pausing when she saw Poppy in the tub and Isaiah by the sink. “I suppose I should be grateful this is a bathroom, not a fridge.”
“Very funny,” Isaiah replied. “But I’m glad you’re here. I need you to keep an eye on Poppy while I step out.”
“Keep an eye on me? I don’t need a babysitter,” Poppy protested.
“Don’t put me in the middle of your foreplay,” Mina joked, holding her hands up in mock surrender as she started to back out of the room.
“I’ve got a dinner date tonight with a world champion.
I need a nap and some moisturiser, because I think I’m starting to peel.
I can’t look like a burnt lobster on a date– it’s gross.
I don’t have time to get caught up in whatever you two are doing. ”
Poppy winced in sympathy; Mina’s freckled shoulders matched her own painted nails. She turned to Isaiah. “Why do they need you to go to reception?”
“Eckells sent me something that he wants me to review,” Isaiah replied, shifting uncomfortably. His unease was palpable. Poppy wasn’t sure if he was lying, or just feeling awkward about Mina’s teasing. Or her diminishing bubbles.
“Did you speak to him? Is something wrong with the club?” Mina asked anxiously.
“I thought you didn’t care about your boss?” Isaiah teased.
“Did you two spend more time in fridges while I soaked up too much sun?” was Mina’s retort.
“No more fridges, but we did get our nails done.” Poppy chuckled, proudly displaying her ruby-red manicure.
Mina looked at Isaiah and laughed. “Eckells would love to hear that his tough and terrible Detective Rivers had his nails done.”
“Hey, a real man looks after himself,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “And the salon wouldn’t let me in unless I booked a treatment. Besides, I’m sure he’d be equally interested to know that you have a date with an F1 driver, one of his guests!”
Mina’s smile faded. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would, so stay here with Poppy until I get back,” Isaiah threatened.
“If you’re so worried about me, maybe you could leave us with a gun?” Poppy suggested, trying to tease him.
“The thought of you with a gun frightens me more than any threat out there.”
“It should,” Poppy muttered.
“I think she’s starting to like you,” she heard Mina said as Isaiah closed the door behind them harder than necessary.
“If that’s what liking me looks like…” Isaiah whistled. “I’d hate to be her enemy.”
“You’ve no idea,” Mina chuckled.
“I can hear the two of you!” Poppy called, stepping out of the tub and wrapping herself in a fluffy towel embroidered with gold tridents.
She found Mina in her room, still looking for moisturiser. Poppy told her where it was as she put on her denim shorts and crochet halter top.
“Where are you going?” Mina asked, frowning as she got the moisturiser out of the top drawer.
“I need you to stay in the bathroom and pretend to be me when he returns,” Poppy told her, adjusting her outfit.
“I can’t. I’ve got dinner plans,” Mina insisted.
“Just move them back an hour,” Poppy urged. “I won’t be long, but this is my only chance to go out alone. I don’t want to involve either of you in case I get caught.” She didn’t want them to end up in ship jail with her.
“At least tell me where you’re going?” Mina asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I want to check out Patrice’s room. I have a hunch about something, but there’s no way Isaiah will let me wander into the staff quarters and risk upsetting the captain. I’ll be in and out,” Poppy promised.
Mina hesitated.
“Okay, I’ll move my dinner date, but please hurry back,” she said finally. “I don’t want to face Isaiah’s wrath.”
“Here, take my smartwatch, so he’ll think I haven’t left the room,” Poppy said, thrusting it into Mina’s hands. “I’ll knock to be let in.”
“This is going too far. What if something happens and we need to find you?”
“Don’t worry so much. I still have the anchor.” Poppy waved her charm bracelet. “If I’m not back in the hour, you can send in the cavalry. I bribed a maid earlier while Isaiah went to get lunch. I know exactly where Patrice’s room is, so it’s not like I’m going to wander around aimlessly.”
“Go before I change my mind,” Mina sighed, rubbing moisturiser into the reddening tattoos on her arms.
“You can keep that,” Poppy said, slipping on her sandals. She grabbed one of Isaiah’s baseball caps. A terrible disguise, but it was the best she could do.
Mina’s eyes widened. “But it’s so expensive. It’s enough that you let me use some of it!”
“You can tell Isaiah that I bribed you.” Poppy winked, closing the door behind her before Mina changed her mind.
After a quick ride in the staff-only lift, Poppy found Patrice’s cabin sealed with red tape. She sneaked under it, relieved to discover the door wasn’t locked. Clearly, the captain was overly confident and believed no one would be bold enough to break into a dead woman’s room.
Poppy didn’t dare turn on a light, so she could only rely on the dim light coming through the porthole and under the door.
As she rummaged through Patrice’s clothes and belongings, searching drawer after drawer, she felt increasingly uneasy.
It felt wrong going through a dead woman’s belongings.
The wardrobe was filled only with uniforms, and the mattress offered no clues.
There were no suspicious photos, files, or scrawled notes in sight.
Patrice’s toothbrush still sat by the sink, and her unmade bed had pyjamas sticking out from under the pillow – indications that security hadn’t touched her belongings, but simply sealed the room as they’d found it after her death.
Under the bed, Poppy discovered a small suitcase filled with Patrice’s off-duty clothes. As she crouched on the floor, her head in her hands, she realized she had exhausted all the hiding spots in the cramped cabin. I guess I was wrong.
The sound of footsteps passing outside jolted her, a reminder to speed up her search. She hurriedly pushed the suitcase back under the bed, only to find it resisting her efforts. When she reached under, she pulled out a lockbox – the kind used for petty cash – with the key still in it.
“Patrice was stealing from the guests,” Poppy muttered to herself as she examined the contents.
She found strands of pearls, a few watches, and a diamond pendant.
“Is that what got her killed? Did she steal from the wrong person?” She placed the items back in the top tray; it wasn’t like she could take them and ask the other guests which items belonged to them.
Could Patrice have been in her room late at night looking for anything worth stealing?
She lifted off the top tray of the lockbox and gasped.
“Audiotapes?” she murmured, her voice echoing in the silent cabin, remembering the recorder they had found on Patrice’s body.
She sifted through a dozen tapes, noting the different names and dates written on each case.
Beneath the tapes, she found a little blue notebook.
Flipping through it, she was shocked to see lists of names, dates, and amounts dating back years.
Patrice wasn’t just stealing; she was blackmailing guests with their secrets.
The guests of the Midas wouldn’t murder anyone over a few missing jewels, but secrets were a far more dangerous commodity.
Poppy searched for any tapes marked with the date of Patrice’s murder to account for the one missing from the recorder when they’d found her.
A case marked “Calliope Chase” stood out, but when she opened it, the case was empty.
Was Calliope the one who’d taken the tape? Had she been Patrice’s next target?
Scanning to the final entry in the notebook, Poppy found Calliope’s name alongside the amount of fifty thousand dollars, with a question mark beside it.
Patrice could have sold the tape to Calliope and then gone to Poppy’s room to plant the recorder or search for anything worth stealing.
This would explain why the tape recorder was empty, but if she had sold it to Calliope, wouldn’t she have had the money on her?
Poppy hadn’t found any sign of money in Patrice’s cabin.
A wave of urgency washed over her. The only way to find out for sure was to check Calliope’s suite and see if she could locate the missing tape before it was disposed of – and before Isaiah found out about her leaving the suite.
She tore the page out of the notebook and shoved it into her shorts pocket before returning the lockbox and suitcase to their original position.