Curse of the Arctic Star (2 page)

“Sounds like a mystery to me,” George agreed, kicking at a loose board on the dock.

I nodded slowly, still not entirely convinced. Brock Walker was an A-list actor who’d starred in a popular series of bad-boy comedy-action films. But in real life he was supposed to be a hard-working, down-to-earth family man, married to his high school sweetheart, with a couple of kids. Definitely
not
the type to flake out on a commitment, at least according to his reputation.

“I wonder what they told the paying passengers.” Bess glanced around. “Especially since the rest of the entertainment is C-list at best.”

George patted her laptop, which she’d slung over her shoulder in its case. “I checked earlier today—Brock put out a statement saying it was a scheduling conflict.”

“Yeah.” I shuffled forward as the line continued to move. “But Becca said he’s really mad about the
threats. He told the CEO of Superstar Cruises that if the company doesn’t figure out who did it, he’ll tell everyone the truth.”

“Bummer.” George shrugged. “But that sounds like a job for the cops or the FBI or someone like that.”

“I know.” I sighed. “The trouble is, the CEO is afraid that any bad publicity involving police investigations might scare off passengers and sink the company.” I chuckled, realizing what I’d just said. “So to speak. Anyway, that’s why we’re here—undercover. The CEO used to work with Becca’s grandfather, so I guess she and Becca are practically like family. Since it was too late to re-book Brock’s suite, Becca talked her into flying us out and letting us stay there while we keep an eye on things.”

“Which is totally awesome,” George said with a grin, shooting a look up at the ship. “I’m not sure about this whole cruise thing, but I’ve always wanted to see Alaska!”

“So what else did Becca tell you?” Bess asked me. “You said there were some other suspicious incidents.”

I nodded. “That’s what she said, but she didn’t go into much detail. Just mentioned something about threatening e-mails, and some prelaunch mishaps. She’s supposed to fill me in when I see her. Once we know more, maybe we’ll be able to—”

I stopped short as Bess cleared her throat loudly. A moment later Alan arrived, apologizing to the people in line behind us.

“Found it,” he announced, holding up his passport. “I got there just in time—that porter was about to roll our cart away.”

I forced a smile. Having Alan along was definitely going to make things more difficult. That hadn’t been part of the original plan.

But when he’d heard that the three of us had won a free cruise to Alaska in a four-bedroom suite—cover story, remember?—he’d begged to come along. As an environmental studies student at the university in River Heights, he’d pointed out that Alaska was the perfect place to get a jump-start on his sophomore-year research project, and he’d never be able to afford that
kind of trip on a college kid’s budget. Especially when he lavished what little spare cash he had on his new girlfriend, Bess.

Okay, so he hadn’t
actually
mentioned that last part. He hadn’t had to. Bess had invited him along and told us we’d just have to deal with it. The girl seems sweet and agreeable most of the time, but she’s got a backbone of steel when the situation calls for it.

Soon we were inside, being checked in and issued our ship ID cards. “Enjoy your time with Superstar Cruises!” the smiling employee told us.

As we thanked her and stepped away, I nudged Bess in the side. “Can you distract you-know-who for a while?” I whispered. “I want to look for Becca.”

“Leave it to me,” Bess murmured back.

Alan had just moved away from the check-in desk to tuck his ID into his wallet, but he looked up quickly. “Did you say something?” he asked Bess.

She stepped over and looped her arm through his. “I was just telling Nancy we’d meet her and George at the suite later,” she told him with a flirty little tilt of her
head. “Want to go for a walk to check out the ship?”

She didn’t have to ask twice. Seconds later they were strolling out of the check-in area hand in hand. George shook her head as she watched them go.

“That guy’s got it bad,” she said. “I really don’t know what Bess sees in him, though.”

“That’s a mystery for another day.” I headed out after them. “Let’s not waste time. Becca said we’d probably find her on the main deck.”

George glanced around as we emerged into what appeared to be a sort of lobby area. It was carpeted in red, with murals on the walls depicting famous Hollywood landmarks. A pair of winding, carpeted staircases with gleaming mahogany banisters led upward, with a sign in between that showed the layout of the entire ship.

I barely had time to glance at the sign before a smiling young female employee rushed toward us. She was dressed in shorts and a piped vest and was holding a tray of tall, frosty glasses with colorful straws and umbrellas sticking out of them.

“Welcome to the
Arctic Star
,” she gushed. “Would
you ladies care for a complimentary Superstar smoothie? They’re made with a refreshing fruit mixture, including real Alaskan wild blueberries. A specialty of the ship!”

George was already reaching for a glass. She’s not the type to turn down anything free. “Thanks,” she said, then took a sip. “Hey, Nancy, you’ve got to try this! It’s awesome!”

“Thanks, but I’m not thirsty,” I told the waitress. Grabbing George’s arm, I dragged her toward the stairs. “Focus, okay?”

“Whatever. A girl’s got to stay hydrated.” George took another big sip of her smoothie as we hurried upstairs.

A couple of flights up, we found the lido deck. It was a partially shaded area spanning the entire width of the ship, and appeared to be where all the action was at the moment. As we emerged out of the stairwell, we almost crashed into another employee. This one was a lean, tanned man in his late twenties with slicked-back brown hair.

“Welcome aboard, ladies,” he said with a toothy grin.
“My name’s Scott, and I’m one of your shore excursion specialists. Our first stop the day after tomorrow will be Ketchikan, where you’ll have the chance to experience anything from a flight-seeing trip to the fjords to the Great Alaskan Lumberjack Show or . . .”

There was more, but I didn’t hear it. I’d just spotted Becca halfway across the deck chatting with some passengers, looking trim and professional in her silver-piped navy jacket and skirt.

“Sounds great,” I blurted out, interrupting Shore Excursion Scott’s description of kayaking in Tongass National Forest. “We’ll get back to you on that, okay?”

“Save me a spot on those kayaks,” George called over her shoulder as I yanked her away.

“Ladies!” someone called out cheerfully. Suddenly we found our path blocked by yet another uniformed employee. This one was a short, skinny guy with a wild tuft of blond hair and a slightly manic twinkle in his big blue eyes. “Hollywood Suite, right?” he asked.

“Yeah.” George sounded surprised. “How’d you know that?”

“Oh, they send us photos of our guests ahead of time. You’re Nancy and you’re Georgia, right?”

“George,” George corrected with a grimace. She hates her real name. “Call me George.”

“George it is!” The guy seemed as if he couldn’t stand still. He sort of bounded back and forth in front of us. It reminded me of my neighbor’s over-enthusiastic golden retriever. “My name’s Max. Oh, but you probably figured that out already, right?” He grinned and pointed to his name tag. “I’ll be your personal butler.”

“Our what?” I said.

“Whoa!” George exclaimed. “Seriously? We get a
butler
?”

“Absolutely.” Max nodded vigorously. “Each of our luxury suites has its own dedicated staff, including a butler and two maids, to make sure your trip is as pleasant and comfortable as possible. You can call on me day or night for all your needs.”

“Cool,” I said briskly. Max seemed like a really nice guy, but I was feeling impatient. Over his shoulder, I
could see Becca moving on to another set of passengers. “We’ll get back to you, okay?”

But Max had already whipped out a handful of pamphlets. “Here’s a partial list of our available services to get you started,” he said brightly. “Our room service menu, the shipboard activity schedule, spa services, our exclusive pillow menu . . .”

George was already examining the pamphlets eagerly. I could see that it wasn’t going to be easy to shake Max.

Then I had an idea. I grabbed one of the pamphlets. “Er, the pillow menu, huh?” I said. “Come to think of it, I can’t sleep well on anything but a . . . um . . .” I quickly scanned the list. “A buckwheat pillow. Do you think you could find me one right now? I might need to take a nap soon.”

“Certainly, Ms. Drew!” Max beamed as if I’d just asked him to be my best friend. “I’ll take care of it right away. Just text me if you need anything else.” He handed us each a card with his name and number on it, then scurried away.

“Wow,” George said. “A real butler! This is awesome. Maybe I should tell him to get me a special fancy pillow while he’s at it.”

“Forget it,” I said, slapping her hand as she reached for her cell phone. “Becca. Now.”

This time we actually made it over to her. I hadn’t seen her in a couple of years, but she looked pretty much the same—curly dark hair, sparkling brown eyes, a quick smile. She was chatting with a rather weary-looking couple in their thirties. The man wore a T-shirt with the Canadian flag on it, and the woman was keeping one eye on the eight-year-old boy dribbling a soccer ball nearby.

“Careful, Tobias,” she called, interrupting something Becca was saying about the dinner schedule. “We don’t want to be a bother to the other passengers.”

“Maybe
you
don’t,” the boy retorted, sticking out his tongue. “I told you I didn’t want to come on this stupid ship!” With that, he kicked the ball into a column. It bounced off and almost hit a passing woman.

“Wow,” George murmured in my ear. “Brat much?”

Becca’s smile never wavered. She glanced toward me and George briefly, then returned her focus to the parents. “We have lots of activities for our youngest guests,” she told them. “Perhaps your son would enjoy checking out the rock-climbing wall or the arcade. There’s also a kids’ tour of the ship scheduled for first thing tomorrow morning. One of our youth activities coordinators can give you all the details if you’re interested.”

She gestured toward a good-looking young Asian guy standing nearby. Tobias’s parents thanked her, then grabbed their son’s hand and dragged him toward the youth coordinator.

“Nancy!” Becca exclaimed as soon as they were out of earshot. “Thank goodness you made it. Hi, George.” She glanced around. “Where’s Bess?”

“She’s, uh, busy right now.” I didn’t want to waste time explaining about Alan. I knew we probably only had a few seconds before Becca had to return to duty. “So when do you want to meet to talk?”

“Soon.” Becca shot a cautious look around, her smile fading. Then she lowered her voice. “Something
else has happened, but I don’t have time to fill you in now. Can you meet me at my office later?”

“Sure. Where is it?”

She was writing the deck and cabin numbers down on her card when a sudden, shrill scream rang out from somewhere farther along the huge deck area.

“What was that?” George exclaimed.

Becca instantly looked worried. “I don’t know, but I hope—”

Before she could finish, someone let out a shout. “Help! There’s a bloody body in the pool!”

“WHAT?” BECCA BLURTED OUT, HER FACE
going pale. Without another word, she rushed off in the direction of the commotion.

I traded a worried glance with George. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go see what’s happening.”

We followed the crowd and soon emerged onto a sunny, open-air part of the deck dominated by a large free-form pool. It was a riot of fountains, slides, and potted palms.

But nobody was looking at any of that. Everyone’s focus was on the blond woman’s pale, still form floating
facedown in a widening reddish circle!

My heart pounded, and for a second I felt dizzy. I’ve been involved in a lot of mysteries. But very few of them involved bloody bodies of any kind. Somehow I’d just about convinced myself that Becca was imagining trouble where it didn’t exist, that this was really just going to be a fun, free vacation with a little sleuthing on the side. But now? Maybe not so much.

“Oh, gross,” George exclaimed, watching as a lifeguard-looking guy in silver-piped trunks dove into the pool and sliced through the pinkish-tinged water. “There’s a ton of blood!”

Before I could answer, the lifeguard reached the body. He grabbed one arm, then jumped back. “Hey, it’s not a real person!” he called out, sounding confused. “It’s just a mannequin!”

Realizing I’d been holding my breath, I blew it out in a big
whoosh
. “Thank goodness.” I glanced around for Becca and spotted her nearby. Hurrying over, I touched her on the arm. “Do you have any idea what this is all about?”

She shook her head, looking grim. Meanwhile George was staring at a young couple nearby. A pretty, willowy blonde in her midtwenties was huddled in the arms of a tall, handsome, broad-shouldered man around the same age.