Part 3 (1/2)

The elevator pinged pinged to a stop. Nana and Tilly stood aside to let a couple of pa.s.sengers off, then bustled forward to get the best places by the floor selection panel. Nana punched in a number before looking out the door at me. ”You comin' with us, dear?” to a stop. Nana and Tilly stood aside to let a couple of pa.s.sengers off, then bustled forward to get the best places by the floor selection panel. Nana punched in a number before looking out the door at me. ”You comin' with us, dear?”

”I gained a pound just sniffing the air in the Coconut Palms Cafe,” I confessed, ”so for the sake of my hips and thighs, I better take the stairs. I'll meet you back in your cabin in a few minutes.” After I made a slight detour to deck twelve. After I made a slight detour to deck twelve. I knew Bailey Howard was so emotionally distraught that her perception might be a little off, but something she'd said hadn't rung true. I needed to check it out for myself. I knew Bailey Howard was so emotionally distraught that her perception might be a little off, but something she'd said hadn't rung true. I needed to check it out for myself.

I trudged up nine flights of stairs, staggered out the bulkhead door into the open air of deck twelve, and collapsed against the rail, starved for oxygen. Oh yeah, taking the stairs was a great idea. Maybe I'd try it again sometime...on my next vacation.

When I was able to breathe again, I cast a long look toward the stern, trying to picture what Bailey might have seen a little over two hours ago. She'd been right about one thing. The stern did seem half a city block away, but from this vantage point, you'd have a clear shot of anything that was happening at the port rail, though the details might be a little fuzzy.

I began walking aft, the open ocean to my right, the bulkhead to my left. The deck was too narrow at this point for deck chairs, but as I pa.s.sed beyond the curve of the bulkhead, the s.p.a.ce expanded into a sports area that boasted a regulation-size basketball court enclosed within a flexible mesh cage, kind of like an aviary for amateur athletes. Adjacent to it, on the starboard side, a tangle of aquamarine waterslides corkscrewed like the L.A. highway system, spiraling down toward an elevated pool that looked much more geared toward children than the large, kidney-shaped pool on deck eleven.

But there were no giggles or splas.h.i.+ng from the pool area. No hoopsters slam-dunking the ball on the basketball court. Two thousand guests on this cruise s.h.i.+p, and not one of them was using the sports area. The place was quieter than a Tuesday night at the Windsor City Drive-in Theater.

Which is exactly what Bailey had said.

But I hadn't believed her.

I skirted around the basketball court, slowing my steps as I approached the golf simulators. I popped inside a little foyer cut into the bulkhead and noted two doors on the interior, one labeled SIMULATOR SIMULATOR 1 and the other 1 and the other SIMULATOR SIMULATOR 2, with a sign-up sheet posted on the wall. I checked the sheet and found Dorian Smoker's name printed in block letters beneath a list of a half dozen other names, his a.s.signed time for simulator two being eight o'clock this evening. 2, with a sign-up sheet posted on the wall. I checked the sheet and found Dorian Smoker's name printed in block letters beneath a list of a half dozen other names, his a.s.signed time for simulator two being eight o'clock this evening.

A little chill lifted the down on my arms. Was this evidence? Shouldn't someone bag this and dust it for fingerprints or something? I looked around helplessly. Uff da Uff da. I didn't even know who had authority over criminal investigations at sea.

I returned to the deck and as I rounded the stern, found my progress halted by a chain that extended from the rail to a hook on the bulkhead. Beneath the chain were several plastic cones stamped with the words, DANGER -- WET -- KEEP OFF DANGER -- WET -- KEEP OFF. I guessed chains and cones were the cruise liner's version of crime scene tape.

I regarded the narrow s.p.a.ce between the rail and the bulkhead, a sour taste creeping into my mouth as I realized this was where someone had pushed Dorian Smoker to his death. I walked to the rail and in the stunning silence of the moment, peered down at the froth of whitecaps rippling the water below. Bailey had obviously been telling the truth.

There was a killer walking the decks of the Aloha Princess Aloha Princess.

I propped my chin in my hands and sighed.

Deja vu all over again.

”I could have donated it to the Smithsonian for future generations to study. They have a magnificent rare book collection.” Tilly sat achingly stiff on the narrow sofa in her stateroom, pining over what might have been.

She and Nana were booked into a ”Large Oceanview” cabin -- the ”large” referring to the size of the porthole rather than the size of the cabin. But all the amenities were there. Twin beds aligned in an L against the interior and exterior walls. Mirrored vanity with a bank of lights. Minibar and refrigerator, itty-bitty safe, and television stacked in a wall cabinet. Sitting area complete with sofa and miniature coffee table.

”I could have donated it to the British Museum,” Tilly continued, ”or...or the Naval Museum in Portsmouth.”

”Didn't you want no money for it?” Nana was perched next to me on the edge of her bed, removing her stash of scavenger hunt items from her pocketbook.

Tilly looked appalled. ”Financial remuneration is the last thing I would ever want for a doc.u.ment that rightfully belongs in the public domain.”

”Bet you coulda got millions for it at that famous auction place,” Nana contended.

”Sotheby's?” I asked.

”Nope, eBay,” said Nana. ”You wouldn't believe what folks are sellin' these days. Some fella advertised an aircraft carrier a couple a months back. I thought about biddin' on it, but I chickened out.”

I looked at Tilly. Tilly looked at me. We both looked at Nana. ”No place to store it?” I teased.

Nana shook her head. ”Didn't wanna pay the postage.”

I laughed in disbelief. ”Why would you bid on an aircraft carrier?”

”For your father's birthday, dear. By the time you reach my age, you run outta good gift ideas, so it was either that or a necktie.” She eyed the articles she'd arranged on the bed, then opened her pocketbook wide and poked her head inside. ”Osmond give me one a them rocks from the spa when I seen him in the hallway, but I don't know what I done with it.” Sweeping her scavenger items to one side, she dumped the contents of her pocketbook onto the bed in a Mount Everest of a pile. I eyed it in amazement. Wow. She'd really cut back on the nonessentials.

”They've chained off the area where Professor Smoker was pushed overboard,” I announced, as Nana began the slow process of sorting through her things.

Tilly nodded sagely. ”The captain must be quite shocked by this turn of events. Cruise s.h.i.+ps are probably more secure than gated communities. I read that being on a cruise s.h.i.+p is safer than virtually anywhere else in the world, except the teacup ride in the Magic Kingdom. Do you realize that in the last twenty years, there hasn't been one cruise pa.s.senger death related to a maritime accident? Twenty years. Can you imagine?”

”Quite a streak,” I admitted uneasily. I had a streak of my own going: largest number of dead bodies found by a non-European while traveling abroad. At least this time, someone else had found the body...or not found it, as the case may be. ”Do either of you know who handles criminal investigations aboard s.h.i.+p?”

”They explained that on the A&E special.” Nana waved a hair pick triumphantly in the air. ”I been lookin' for this for months! Musta been hidin' at the bottom of my pocketbook.” She leveled a severe look on the gargantuan bag. ”Your grampa always said I should downsize. He mighta been right. Anyway, that show was sayin' every cruise s.h.i.+p has a private security force aboard, kinda like them fellas what guard those fancy buildin's in New York City, but they're not law officers, so they don't know nothin' about police procedures.”

”So who decided to chain off the area around the crime scene?” I asked.

Tilly laid her walking stick in her lap. ”It seems logical to a.s.sume that the chief security officer and the s.h.i.+p's captain were probably instructed to do that by either the Coast Guard, the FBI, or some other mainland law enforcement agency.”

Nana nodded agreement. ”Cruise s.h.i.+ps got the right to ask help from any law enforcement authority they want.”

”Did you learn that on your A&E special, too?” I asked.

Nana shook her head. ”Reruns a The Love Boat.” The Love Boat.”

”So do you think they'll ask the authorities to come aboard when we reach Kauai?” I persisted.

”I suspect that might be why they cordoned off the crime scene,” said Tilly. ”To preserve the area as much as possible for the island police, though I'm not sure how much evidence can be preserved on a windswept deck. This is a cruise line's worst nightmare. They're in the business of selling fantasy, and crime scene tape and evidence kits are not part of the Aloha Princess Aloha Princess fantasy package. Can you imagine the panic aboard s.h.i.+p if word leaks out that there could be a killer prowling the decks?” fantasy package. Can you imagine the panic aboard s.h.i.+p if word leaks out that there could be a killer prowling the decks?”

”But there is is a killer prowling the decks!” a killer prowling the decks!”

Nana tossed a collapsible cup and a package of tissue to the side. ”Could be the killer's not interested in knockin' off no one else. Mabe his only target was the professor fella.”

Tilly mulled that over. ”That's a consideration, Marion. If Professor Smoker's death was a random killing, every guest on board is in danger. But if he was specifically targeted by one of his enemies, as Bailey suggested, then no one else's life is actually in jeopardy.”

”Don't seem to me that Bailey's too safe,” Nana argued. ”What if the killer thinks she got a good lookit 'im? What if he decides his next step is to kill her before she can finger 'im?”

”How would the killer know it was Bailey who saw him?” I questioned. ”As far as he knows, it could be any one of over a thousand woman aboard who screamed at him.”

Nana shook her head. ”Well, the police are gonna need a better physical description of the fella than a gray warm-up suit. Shoot, everyone on board's probably got one a them. You s'pose they're gonna go through everyone's grips?”

”They'll never do that,” Tilly a.s.serted. ”Much too intrusive. Besides, I doubt they have probable cause. And they certainly want to avoid the publicity an official search would entail. Not to mention potential litigation should some disgruntled pa.s.senger take issue with what he might consider an unwarranted invasion of privacy.”

”I don't get it,” I sputtered. ”Exactly what kind of theories could a professor suggest that might get him killed?”

Tilly shook her head. ”I'm embarra.s.sed to say I haven't a clue. I know Professor Smoker was purported to be the world's leading authority on Cook, but I'm afraid I accepted the claim at face value. Perhaps when Bailey is feeling better, she could enlighten us about what made his theories so controversial. But remember, we're talking about academia. Academicians can spend entire careers arguing over whether it's best to crack an egg at the wide or the narrow end.”

Nana gave a loud suck on her teeth. ”Well, would you lookit that.” She pulled a small plastic bag from the bottom of her pile and brandished it in the air. ”It's a little care package, with all my favorite goodies! Midget Tootsie Rolls. Licorice Jelly Bellies. Cinnamon bears. And look! A bag a peanut M&M's!” Her eyes lit up like halogen lights. ”This must be your mother's doin', Emily. Bless her little heart. She musta hid it in my pocketbook when she come to say good-bye.” She clutched the bag to her breast and threw a contrite look toward heaven. ”I take back every unkind word I ever said about Margaret.”

I smiled. ”I guess this means you'll be a shoo-in for the scavenger hunt prize, hunh?”