Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries 07 - Deadly Cruise Read online

  That was another trick she’d learned as an actress—you could change your mood by changing your facial expression. If you wanted to feel sad, put on a sad face. If you wanted to feel confident, push back your shoulders and act like you were. And if you wanted to cheer yourself up, force a smile on your mouth—or at least stick a pencil between your teeth to mimic one—and your mood would brighten in no time.

  So with a fixed grin, Zoya made her way around the ship. Before long, she reached the pool deck aka the drive-in movie theater.

  “A drive-in next to the pool? It should be a dive-in!” she said to herself quietly, and then she giggled at her own joke.

  There had been a movie playing earlier, but it had been scheduled to finish around nine o’clock, so everything had been switched off, packed up, and the customers all long gone back inside.

  There was a large white screen set up against the wall of the ship, and then the pool, and then on the other side of the water was the area where chairs had been set up for people to watch the movie. They were all gone now though, stacked up in neat columns, leaving a large, vacant area that in the day time would be full of sun loungers.

  The only sign of cars at this supposed drive-in were painted murals on wooden boards which were used as props. She supposed that during the movie there would have been people selling popcorn seat-to-seat instead of car-to-car, but the only sign of that now was the few stray pieces here and there on the ground that had been missed in the cleanup.

  In some ways, it reminded her of a movie set. While they usually looked very real on film, in person they did not. You really had to use your acting skills just to make believe the sets were real. Let alone reading your lines and interacting with other cast members. In the same way, the painted-on cars needed a lot of imagination to make you even consider pretending they were actually real.

  On the floor, Zoya saw a small movie program that had been missed in the nighttime cleanup. Curious, she picked it up to see what had been playing.

  “Unbelievable,” she said in annoyance.

  The very first movie they had played at the drive-in was Mad Maiden. A not-very-good late seventies horror movie, starring none other than the worst person on the ship, Susan Shelly. Zoya’s smile had fallen off her face without her even noticing, and as she frowned at the program, her mood darkened along with her expression.

  Annoyed, she tossed the card back down onto the deck where she’d found it. She’d have to have a word with that little cruise director woman. Put in a complaint. They should have shown one of her movies first. She was the much bigger star. Much bigger.

  With heavier footsteps and a darker mood, Zoya continued on. She tried to put a smile back on her face, but it wouldn’t take. It kept falling. She’d try again when she got back inside.

  As Zoya passed the end of the pool, she saw something underneath the big white screen.

  “Is that…” she said to herself, her mouth falling open.

  She hurried along the edge of the pool toward the wall of the ship and the movie screen, so she could approach the object she had seen.

  “My poster…!”

  Sure enough, Zoya’s poster had been moved out of the Grand Ballroom to the pool deck. That was where they’d originally wanted her to do the photo signings, before she’d insisted on using a more impressive location. It looked like she’d been downgraded again.

  She stared at the framed print in anger. The glass covering it was still daubed with the offensive words. They seemed to mock her under the starlight, calling out to her. Fraud, fraud, fraud.

  What did it matter that it wasn’t actually her in the photograph? It was her movie. And they always retouched the photographs anyway—no one could ever claim it was really them in a movie poster. She had as much right—no, more of a right—to claim ownership of it than Susan ever had. The other woman was just a body double, who back then couldn’t be trusted to do anything in front of a camera except take her clothes off so that more talented actors, like Zoya, wouldn’t have to.

  “Unbelievable,” she said with a final shake of her head.

  There was the sound of a shoe scuffing against the floor behind her.

  Zoya whirled around. “Who’s there?” she said. But she couldn’t see anyone.

  Maybe she’d imagined it. Or perhaps it was a bat or a gull or something flying around. Or maybe even a ship’s cat. That was the thing about actors like her—they had very active imaginations. It was just part of the job.

  Turning back to the poster, she ran her eyes over it a final time. Maybe that Platinum Power cleaning product would get the words off. And maybe it would be nice to pose for pictures outside, in the fresh air. It would be good to be with some adoring fans again.

  As long as they weren’t too adoring.

  Just then, there was the faintest swishing noise. It was closer than the shoe scuff earlier.

  “Bat,” she said to herself.

  But she was wrong.

  Even as she said the word, the cold, sharp point of a knife buried itself through her blouse, piercing her skin…

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BZZZ.

  Urgh. My phone was vibrating. It wasn’t supposed to be buzzing; it was supposed to be silent so that I could sleep. It definitely wasn’t time to wake up yet.

  So I did the sensible thing and ignored it.

  The infuriating device was sitting on the metal desk on the other side of the small cabin that Sam and I shared. It was supposed to wake me up at seven o’clock with the pleasant sound of birds chirping.

  Sitting on that metal desk, the supposedly unobtrusive vibration mode made the phone extra-loud, as it bounced, danced, and skittered across the surface. After half a dozen rings or so, thankfully, it shut off.

  But since it had stopped, I could get back to sleep. Not that there was much time left for sleeping. I could sense that it was almost, but not quite, time to wake up.

  Just as I was drifting off again, the landline phone, which also sat on the metal desk, began to ring.

  Sleepily, I thought that it shouldn’t really be called a landline, since we were at sea. Perhaps it was a sealine phone. Like a sea lion. Did sea lions have phones? Despite the ringing, I was half-asleep again, dreams of sea creatures and phones hovering on the edge of my unconsciousness.

  “Answer the phone!” shouted Sam from the bunk above me.

  Since my phone had been buzzing on the desk, we both knew the call was for me. Sam liked her sleep and didn’t like it to be interrupted by anyone or anything. She was at her absolute crankiest at about this time of the day.

  Driven to alertness by Sam’s ire, I rolled out of bed, barely landing on my feet instead of falling to the floor. I took the one step needed to cross our room to the desk.

  “Hello?” I croaked into the phone.

  “Adrienne! It’s Kelly!”

  She was so chirpy I almost banged the receiver against the desk. But as my brain slowly came to life, I realized that would have absolutely no effect on Kelly, who was… wherever she was.

  “Yes?” I mumbled.

  “I have a question.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  My mind wasn’t ready for this nonsense yet. “What is it, Kelly? It’s the middle of the night.”

  There was a brief pause where I guessed she was scrunching up her face in confusion. “No, it’s not. It’s morning, silly. Have you seen Zoya’s poster?”

  “Yes? We all saw it last night.”

  “Not then, sleepyhead. This morning.”

  “This morning? No. You just woke me up. Why? What happened to it?”

  “I don’t know!”

  I held the phone away from my head and shook it. My head, that is. And then the phone.

  “Kelly, I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

  “The poster, it’s gone. It’s not in the ballroom where we left it anymore. It’s walked off.”

  “Walked off where?”

  “I
don’t know! That’s why I’m calling you. We need to find it before Zoya finds out it’s missing. After how upset she was yesterday, I can’t imagine how angry she’ll be if she finds out we’ve lost it.”

  “Umm, right. So, you want me to look for the poster? Like, now?”

  “Yes, now. And is Sam there with you?”

  I looked up at the top bunk. Sam had pulled her pillow over her head and was trying to block out the sound of my conversation by pressing it against her ears.

  “Ye-es.”

  “Good. Send her to Zoya’s cabin. Tell her to wait outside and hope Zoya doesn’t leave. If she does leave, make sure she doesn’t go looking for the poster in the ballroom. Stall her, delay her, stop her—whatever Sam has to do until we’ve found it.”

  “Umm. Right. Okay. The ship’s pretty big though, Kelly.”

  “So’s the poster. Don’t worry. I’m on the hunt too. See you later!”

  “Bye,” I said to the dead line. Kelly had already hung up and no doubt bounced off to start her own search for the poster, or possibly wake up some other staff members first.

  “Sam,” I said. “You’ve got to get up now.”

  The response was received as well as you’d expect. I was still wincing half an hour later.

  T he original plan with the poster had been to set it up at the pool deck, before Zoya insisted that such a location wasn’t grand enough for a star that shone as bright as her own. So, that’s where I went first. I figured some other staff member probably moved it there after the fiasco in the ballroom the night before. If it wasn’t there, then it was probably in some storeroom somewhere.

  It’s not like the thing could have exactly disappeared.

  I had eventually gotten Sam out of bed and on her way to Zoya’s. Neither of us had breakfast or coffee, so we weren’t exactly in the best of moods. But that’s the thing about working on a cruise ship where things can happen at any time of the day or night: although you have your fixed working hours, you can always be called upon at any time of the day or night to work some more.

  When I went out onto the constitutional deck, which wrapped around the entire ship allowing guests to take long walks, my mood immediately lifted.

  The sun was just creeping up over the horizon, a semi-circle of brilliant red and orange that lit up the already blue-purple skies, and it tinged the ocean a delightful rosy hue. The morning air was fresh enough to be invigorating, without being cold enough to regret not wearing a sweater.

  I was back in my regular uniform instead of my reporter’s outfit. I’d grabbed my normal blue Swan blouse and my own jeans out of the closet without even focusing my eyes on anything else, dressing myself on auto-pilot and trying to avoid Sam’s early morning pre-coffee vitriol.

  Sam, seemingly blaming me for Kelly’s wake-up call, hadn’t been in a chatty mood either.

  I walked around the deck, following the walking course. I was the only person there that early. Most of our guests didn’t venture out onto the decks until they’d eaten breakfast, which thanks to the massive array of dishes available often took them until mid-morning.

  By the time I reached the pool deck, I was feeling better. Being alone on the deck during the beautiful early morning had done wonders for my mood.

  It was there I found the first other sign of life during my walk.

  “Oh, cornstalks,” I said to myself under my breath.

  At the pool deck, I could see the large white movie screen which had been set up to display films in the evening. Underneath it, and slightly to the side, was what Kelly had set me to find: the movie poster.

  I should have been happy, right? An easy win to start the day. There was one problem though. Someone else had found it first.

  Standing in front of the poster, seemingly staring at it, was Zoya. Her long blonde hair hung down her back, just like in the poster. She was dressed more casually than the day before, wearing what looked like a designer training outfit.

  Sam was going to be annoyed. She’d been woken up early and sent on a fruitless mission to wait outside of Zoya’s door—when Zoya was already here.

  I would send her a message as soon as I’d finished with Zoya.

  I walked around the edge of the pool toward the actress. It was early enough in the day I didn’t want to be shouting greetings across a large open space.

  When I was close, I thought there was something a little odd about Zoya’s figure. It looked like she was shaking. Must be cold, I figured. Although the actress would hate to admit it, she wasn’t far from seventy, and I knew people felt the cold more as they aged. At least my grandmother did.

  “Zoya,” I called when I was near enough that it wouldn’t be a yell.

  Her head swished back and forth in a shake as she turned around. I was momentarily confused as to why, until I realized I’d made the same mistake as the day before. It wasn’t Zoya at all; it was Susan!

  “It’s me,” she said in a whisper. “Zoya’s…” she turned her head back and looked down.

  That’s when I really saw Zoya.

  Crumpled in a heap at Susan’s feet was the actress. Buried in her back, like a scene from one of the slasher flicks she was queen of, was a knife.

  My face blanched. Although it wasn’t the first dead body I’d ever seen, you don’t exactly get used to it. At least I didn’t.

  “Oh… oh no…” I said, biting my bottom lip.

  A thought occurred and my eyes flicked back up to Susan, my gaze narrowing as I focused on her.

  She shook her head again. “I just… I just found her. I was going to the gym and I stopped by here on the way.” She was pointing a finger at her designer workout clothes as she gave me her excuse for being there.

  “You were going to the gym? Now?”

  I tried not to make it sound accusatory, but it kind of was. The two women had been fighting just the night before, and now one of them was dead while the other was standing over her body—and they were both in front of the main object of their disagreement.

  “Yes. I like to go in the morning. Before it’s busy. Even if there are people there, they bother you a lot less early in the morning.”

  Tentatively, I walked a little closer. I was on my guard. Despite Susan’s denials, I wasn’t convinced she was telling the truth. I glanced down at her legs and saw that the lower part of her sweatpants were stained with blood.

  She realized I was staring, looked down herself, and looked back at me, wide-eyed.

  “I was kneeling to check on her. To see if she was… You know… and she was. That’s why it got on me.” Susan grimaced as she looked down at her stained pants, as if she wanted to rip them off because of the blood.

  Zoya’s body seemed so small and so still. Even from where I was standing, it was clear she wouldn’t be getting up again. Had Susan really needed to kneel down so close to confirm it?

  “Susan, why don’t you sit down? I’ve got to call this in.”

  A few yards away was a stack of chairs that had been used the night before during the movie screening. I took one off the top and set it up, facing it away from the body toward the ocean.

  “Here. Sit down.”

  Susan walked over as if she was thinking about each of her steps as she did so. When she finally sat down, she locked her eyes out onto the horizon and dabbed at the corners of her eyes where tears were beginning to form.

  Looking at the movie poster one final time as I pulled my phone out of my pocket, I saw that it had an addition to the graffiti from the night before. There was a single streak of blood from a handprint, running from almost the top of the picture all the way down to the bottom.

  I dialed Ethan’s number.

  “Hey. It’s me. I’ve got some bad news…”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A fter I called Ethan, I went on to call the ship’s chief medical officer, Doctor Ryan Wilson.

  Although he couldn’t do anything to treat her now, his medical bay had storage facilities for guests who unfortunate
ly didn’t make it back to port.

  While I waited for everyone to arrive, I stood between Zoya and Susan, watching the still-living actress. She was staring out to sea while she sat on the chair, her shoulders shaking every now and then as she was wracked by sobs.

  I couldn’t help but think of two days earlier, when she had arrived at Tom Devlin’s talk and treated us all to a fake scream. Her acting had been very, very convincing. But was she acting now? Or was her reaction genuine?

  When Ethan finally arrived, it was with three security officers from his team. They came equipped with rolls of tape for sealing off the area, cameras to document the scene, and bags of who-knows-what to collect samples for analysis or whatever else they planned to do.

  While the security team was no police forensic unit, they were well trained and knew what they were doing.

  “Hey,” said Ethan, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as he greeted me. Despite me calling him less than ten minutes earlier, he looked fresh as a daisy in his first officer’s uniform. His white shirt seemed to glow with a gentle orange tinge in the early morning sunlight. Ethan released his half-embrace and peered down at Zoya’s still form.

  “This is exactly how you found her?”

  “Yeah, but it was Susan who found her.” I gestured toward the actress who was sitting in her chair. “She says she kneeled down to check if Zoya was alive, but I don’t think she interfered with the scene apart from that.”

  Ethan nodded.

  “Okay. Let’s talk to her together in a moment.” He turned to address his security team. “I need this area sealed off. One of you contact the cruise director and let her know that all events in this area today need to be canceled and rescheduled right away. I want photographs, I want samples, I want professionalism, and I want discretion. Is that clear?”

  “Sir!” they all replied in perfect unison, the yes preceding the honorific not even needing to be said.

  I recognized a couple of the security guards from previous incidents aboard the ship which had needed their presence, though they had always been too busy for me to get to know any of them.