Cruise Chaos Read online

  “She criticized my books, and then she decided she was going to rearrange them all in the stupidest way I’ve heard.”

  I looked at Ethan. He nodded at me. It was my role to solve the dilemma.

  “I think the issue here is that we need to introduce a rule. We’ll say the books are part of the set, and that customers are not permitted to re-arrange any part of the set—the armchairs, the sofas, the lamps, the pictures, the rugs, or indeed the books.”

  Ethan and Oliver both nodded with approval at my declaration.

  “We’ll say that it could affect the plot—that there are some very precise clues that could be ruined if people move or rearrange things that they shouldn’t. Does that sound reasonable, Mr. McGinty?”

  “Yes. That rule should have been instituted from the start. Though I suppose no one could expect that kind of behavior. I’ve had my shop for fifteen years and I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I hope nothing has been damaged,” said Ethan.

  We looked over at the bookshelf that Felicity had been emptying. There was a heap of books on the floor in front of it.

  “I shall have to go and check. I’ll bill her for any damage,” he said with angry determination.

  “Right. If you do that, could you please pass on the bill to me, rather than giving it to her directly?” I suggested. Not that I had any intention of passing the bill on to Felicity. I figured Swan Cruises could better absorb that loss than the possible destruction that might ensue if we tried to give Felicity Bull an extra bill.

  “I will,” he said with determination.

  We could see Sam leading Felicity out of the room and it now seemed the immediate danger had passed.

  “If there’s anything we can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask Adrienne here,” said Ethan with a smile in my direction.

  I kind of wanted to hit him, but instead I just smiled sweetly at Oliver McGinty.

  “Oh, don’t you worry. I shall.” He bobbed his head up and down in agreement with himself.

  Leaving him to it, Ethan and I said farewell to the bookseller and we began to walk toward the door—but not too quickly. I don’t think either of us wanted to catch up to Felicity Bull.

  “What’s going on?” I asked him, pulling at his arm.

  For the first time since I’d known him, Ethan was in casual clothes. He had on gray corduroy trousers, a sky-blue short-sleeved button-up shirt, and brown brogues.

  Normally he was wearing his first officer’s uniform, a perfectly tailored white and gold outfit that really showed off his drool-worthy frame. But he looked good in casual clothes too—more relaxed.

  “I’m going ashore.”

  “Oh, that sounds fun,” I said. Maybe he would invite me with him. Not that I could go, of course; I had too much to do myself.

  “Maybe,” he said, vaguely. He didn’t sound excited about his day trip anyway.

  “Well, have a nice time,” I said to him as we reached the library door.

  “You too. Good luck with the customers.” He gave me a wry smile.

  “Thanks, I’ll need it,” I said as I peered back over my shoulder. Oliver had begun to pick up his books from the floor.

  “See you,” he said and gave a little wave.

  And so off he went, ashore, apparently without even considering inviting me to join him.

  Not that I could have gone anyway. At least, that’s what I told myself.

  Chapter 8

  When Felicity Bull arrived at the library at ten o’clock that evening, she was the only person there.

  She had some work to do, and what better place to work than in a quiet library? Even if it was a fake library that should more correctly have been called Conference Room B. Use of the facility from seven in the morning until nine at night was supposed to be one of the perks of the mystery-murder cruise, but even though it was past that time, she was going to make sure she made the most of it. She had a key, after all.

  When she entered the room, she immediately felt a surge of anger—almost of betrayal. Despite her earlier complaints, and the rudeness of the bookseller, her advice had clearly not been heeded. She walked around the room, inspecting each of the bookshelves.

  Just as she had suspected, he had arranged them all back in his own stupid order.

  Felicity was very particular about a lot of things, and how things were arranged was one of them. She'd been accused of suffering from OCD once, but that person had clearly not known what they were talking about. Everyone knew that you arranged things in order of size, didn't they? Biggest to smallest. It was simple, and beautiful. If you start worrying about names and titles and categories, you end up with a shelf of books that looks like it was thrown together by a chimp.

  She'd fix them later.

  That'd be a nice surprise for everyone in the morning, wouldn't it? If, when they arrived, all the books were neatly and beautifully arranged in the correct manner. She imagined she'd get some compliments from some of the other guests, and no doubt some more whining from the bookseller. What was his name? Oliver McNoIdea? Something like that.

  Felicity sat down at the old-fashioned roll-up desk in the corner. The wooden chair that accompanied it creaked when she sat down. She shifted her weight back and forth, checking to make sure it could hold the weight of a normal person like herself. It wobbled and quietly groaned but didn't seem to be in danger of immediate failure. It would go in the report though.

  Everything would.

  That was Felicity Bull's job, in fact. Reports.

  She worked for a ‘secret shopper’ agency that had been hired by Swan Cruises to find out just what the customer experience was like. She didn't have all the details, but she had been informed that some strange things happening onboard Swan Cruise ships—this one in particular—and she was to investigate and provide a thorough report.

  And Felicity Bull was very thorough indeed.

  She pulled out her notebook and a 2B pencil—she liked to really be able to press down and get some really dark emphasis on some of her words. She began to scrawl down some of the things she had seen and heard during her first day aboard.

  "When I'm done with this report, every last one of them is going to be in for some serious disciplinary action," she said, to herself with a surprisingly girlish giggle.

  Felicity Bull's most important characteristic was her desire for justice, ideally in the form of customer service workers being fired for poor service. There was no justice sweeter in her mind than a crying waitress being kicked out of a restaurant for bringing the wrong egg order, or a sales clerk being dragged before a disciplinary committee for smirking instead of smiling.

  She stuck the end of the pencil in her mouth and chewed while she thought about where she needed to begin.

  An idea came to her, and she began to scrawl on the first blank page of her little notebook.

  She'd type it all up later.

  She was going to begin with the staff. She scrawled the words STAFF on top of the page, and then, in parenthesis wrote: Incompetent? Problems? Fireable offenses? Her final report would be neat and clean, but for now it was more like brainstorming than formal reporting.

  She started with the woman Adrienne James. She was ill prepared for the event and hardly seemed to know what was going on. She seemed to be over her head and, in Felicity's view, needed to be replaced. She made a note of all these points, tapping the pencil against her teeth in her brief moments of thought.

  Next was Ethan Lee. He was supposed to be in charge of security, but after the bookseller had threatened her, all he'd done was placate him.

  The book man should have been put in the brig for the rest of the trip.

  Felicity paused, while she thought back to the earlier incident. Ethan Lee at least had the redeeming quality of being quite handsome. The way his shirt had hugged his broad shoulders had been almost statuesque. She tapped the pencil against her teeth until she realized she was daydreaming instead of reporting. She didn't write d
own what she thought of his physical appearance, but she made certain to get down all his failings.

  Then there was the first scandal she had seen.

  She thought of it in terms of first, because no doubt on such a poorly run ship there would be many others before the cruise was over.

  That morning, while walking to the sick bay to acquire some seasickness pills, she had almost bumped into what she thought, at the time, was a lady-of-the-night. She couldn't have been more shocked to find out that the scantily-clad girl was not only a Swan employee, but also part of the murder mystery event. The very idea that Swan thought her outfit was appropriate was really beyond the pale.

  The girl, who she had discovered was called Cece, and her supervisor both needed to be dismissed. Felicity underlined the word dismissed enthusiastically, swiping the pencil back and forth, back and forth, sending graphite dust flying. She had to blow against the page when she was done with Cece to remove all the little black bits of dust that had accumulated.

  Felicity tapped the pencil against her teeth in further thought. Who else was there?

  Oh yes. Another incompetent employee. The problem was,: she didn't even know this one's name! There was a woman she'd seen folding towels at one point, carrying a tray of food later, and directing passengers another time. It was like she didn’t even have a proper job. Just a general drudge. She'd even been at the cocktail party the night before in a big floppy hat. She needed to have a name badge and title at least. The mystery woman got a big circle and a question mark around her name.

  “Oh!” said Felicity to herself, as she remembered something else. There was just so much to think about.

  Inappropriate relationships!

  This got a special subheading of its own. She'd been observing everyone, and if she wasn't mistaken, there was certainly some inappropriate flirtation between the first officer and this Adrienne James, as well as between the lady-of-the-night and the doctor in the sickbay.

  Some people might think it old-fashioned, but Felicity was firmly of the belief that romantic relationships had no part of working life. If a situation ever did occur where a married couple ended up working together, they should show no outward signs of affection or anything beyond polite acknowledgment of each other. On that she was firm.

  What else? She tapped the pencil against her teeth again, and then stuck it back in her mouth to chew the end some more.

  "Aha! The pool!"

  There'd been so many examples of incompetence, inappropriateness, and downright insolence on the first day of the cruise that she had almost forgotten about one of the incidents.

  While taking a well-deserved break by the pool after that bookseller had ruined her morning, she had requested the pool boy bring her a towel. While he had done so, the stupid man had brought her a wet towel that had clearly been used by another guest.

  She underlined his name with several angry squiggles. Shaun Anderson.

  She'd made sure to get it down after she finished dressing him down. The whole time, he had seemed distracted, staring at that awful customer liaison girl who escorted her out of the library earlier. What was her name? Oh yes. Samantha. She scribbled that down, too, with more underlining.

  Felicity leaned back in the chair with a creak and chewed on the pencil some more. She'd never had so many notes to type up after the first day on a job. She should get a bonus for this, she thought with a shake of her head.

  Felicity leaned forward again to carry on writing. She'd almost forgotten! The icing on the cake of incompetence!

  GREG WASHINGTON, she wrote in angry, jerky, capital letters.

  He got some extra lines under his name, and he deserved them. They certainly needed to know his history. He was definitely going on her list of people that should certainly be dismissed.

  When she was done with Greg, she leaned back again and checked her watch. It was nearly ten thirty.

  It was a shame she couldn't write about the other guests as well.

  In fact, it was a business idea she had: she would review other customers, and then set up a blacklist of the worst ones so that companies could block them. She wasn't quite sure whether Oliver McGinty counted as customer or staff, but he definitely deserved some kind of censure. She’d put him in her report too, just to cover her bases. She removed the pencil from her mouth, licked her lips, and scrawled down the bookseller’s name.

  She checked her watch again. Just two minutes or so left. If they arrived on time, of course.

  She had arranged a meeting which could very well be to her own benefit, if not for the person she was meeting as well. Surely, they would have something to offer her in return for her silence?

  The library door creaked. Felicity dropped her pencil on the desk and turned to look. Nothing.

  She lumbered to her feet and headed over to the door. She could be there to greet them when they arrived at least. As she approached, the door slowly began to swing open. She checked her watch. Ten thirty exactly. But on time was late in her book, but presumably this ignorant fool didn’t know that yet.

  They were here! Felicity Bull put on her best welcoming scowl, pulled open the door, and…

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, I ate an early breakfast in the canteen while Sam was still snoozing. The first clues had been given out to the various guests last night and there’d been a happy buzz as they all mingled, chatted, and set about thinking about the solution to the murder.

  As was to be a daily tradition during the event, each person dropped their best guesses and motivations as to who the murderer was into a sealed box.

  At the end of the cruise, the first person to have figured out the murderer and the correct motivation would be declared the winner, and they’d receive a free cruise for them and a partner as the grand prize.

  We were going to continue later that morning. The plan was to have more breakfast pastries delivered—which I fully intended to consume this time, since I’d missed out the day before—along with juice, coffee, and tea, and the morning’s clues would be distributed. After some more mingling, the guests would have some free time to spend as they wished, thinking about the mystery or availing themselves of some of the ship’s facilities.

  I was wearing my blue Lady Adrienne James of Harkness gown as I walked down the ship’s hallways. There’s something quite magnificent about wearing a beautiful evening dress in the morning; people actually stopped and stared at me as I went by, a beaming smile on my lips. Strangely, one lady gave me something of a disapproving look. She was probably jealous, I surmised.

  “Yo!” shouted a familiar voice as I came close to the conference suite.

  Much to my surprise, it was Cece, dressed in her work uniform. She had taken a different route here and had emerged from a hallway that intersected the one I was on.

  “What are you doing up and about?”

  “Looking for you. Did you get that dress for me?”

  “Oh... shoot,” I said with a grin. We both laughed at my impression of Kelly Cline. “Sorry. I tried to ask Harley yesterday morning, but she wasn’t there. Then there was that fight. And last night I just totally forgot.”

  Cece nodded. She was currently wearing her housekeeper’s uniform, which fit the definition of maid, but didn’t really have the right feel for a murder mystery event. It was both too dowdy and too modern, particularly the top, which was more polo shirt than traditional maid’s blouse.

  “I bet it won’t be until the last day I get it, right?”

  “No way! We’ll get you sorted out by then,” I said with more confidence than I felt. I wasn’t sure Harley would actually agree to lending her dress—not because she would need it, but lending it to someone as lowly as a housekeeper didn’t strike me as something she’d be comfortable with.

  “So are you going to help me get set up? We’ve got to do the dead body drop this morning.”

  “Yeah. Maybe. I was planning to help you eat the danishes, but I guess I can give you a hand with s
ome other stuff. Oh, I think you were right about the other costume, by the way.”

  “Of course I was,” I said, giving her a gentle punch on the arm. I’d been telling her that I was always right since we’d met, but she never quite seemed to get it. “What happened?”

  “You know that horrible cow?”

  I coughed and spluttered. “Cece! We can’t talk about guests that way!”

  “Sure we can, if they’re not listening,” she said dismissively. “And anyway, I don’t talk about guests that way. I only talk about one guest that way. And it’s her name, isn’t it? Mrs. Cow?”

  I punched her again. “It’s Ms. Bull. And she is a valued and esteemed client.” I tried to keep my face straight as I said it, but we both ended up laughing instead. I know it was bad of me, but some guests really brought out the worst in all of us.

  “She cornered me yesterday afternoon. She said she’d seen me that morning.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. She said. She said she’d seen me in the maid’s outfit going into the sickbay, and thought I was some kind of... escort. Or worse.”

  I reached out a hand and gave her shoulder a supportive squeeze. “I’m sorry she said that to you.” I dug my fingers into her shoulder for emphasis. “But you were dressed rather... spicily.”

  She turned to me with a frown and then her face opened up in a wild grin. “I know—I looked awesome. You should have seen the look on Ryan’s face when I went into the sickbay. I dropped his pen, and when I went to pick it up—”

  “Umm, I can bet,” I said, interrupting her. “Anyway, we’ll sort you out a replacement look soon. Promise. Now come on, let’s go see if they wrecked the library in the night.”

  “Maybe Mrs. Cow went to rearrange the books again while we were sleeping.”

  “Do you think she did?” I said with alarm. “If she did, we might have a real murder scene on our hands.”