Curse of the Arctic Star (6 page)

“YOU’RE UP EARLY,” I SAID AS I WALKED
into the main room of the suite the next morning.

Bess glanced up with a smile. She was sitting at the glass-topped coffee table, stirring milk into a steaming mug of tea.

“You too,” she said. “Luckily, Max the butler gets up even earlier. He brought us these.” She waved a hand at the platter of bagels, doughnuts, and other pastries on the table in front of her.

“Great.” I grabbed a glazed doughnut and took a bite. Then I wandered toward the balcony. The
glass doors were open, offering a spectacular view of the shoreline we were passing as the ship made its way from Vancouver to our first shore stop in Ketchikan. Low hills draped in thick forests of pine and spruce tumbled to meet the sparkling deep-blue water, while in the distance, snow-capped peaks rose to meet the sky.

“Nice scenery, huh?” Bess said. “I could stare at that view all day.”

I shot her a rueful look. “Me too. Unfortunately we don’t have time,” I said. “Have you seen George yet?”

Bess snorted. “What do you think? She’s not exactly a morning person, remember?”

I grinned. “Understatement of the year. What about Alan?”

“Haven’t seen him yet either. I guess he’s still asleep.”

“Good. Let’s get George and get out of here before he wakes up,” I said. “This could be our best chance to talk freely.”

Shooting one last glance at the scenery, I turned and led the way toward the bedrooms. We tiptoed past
Alan’s door. The sound of loud snoring was coming from inside.

Even louder snoring was coming from George’s room. We let ourselves in. She was curled up on her side, with her back to us.

Bess leaned over and poked her cousin in the shoulder. “Rise and shine,” she whispered loudly.

There was no response. I grabbed George’s foot and tickled it. She shot up into a sitting position.

“Hey!” she blurted out.

“Shh!” Bess and I hissed.

George blinked stupidly for a moment, then glared at us. “What time is it?” she mumbled, making a move to lie down again.

But Bess was too fast for her. Grabbing her cousin’s arm, she gave a yank that almost pulled her out of bed. “Get up,” she ordered. “We need to get out of here before Alan wakes up. Nancy wants to talk.”

It took a little more persuading, but finally we got her up. Leaving her to get dressed, Bess and I returned to the main room. I quickly gulped down
some coffee while she scribbled a note for Alan.

“I’m telling him we’re checking out the spa facilities to see if we can get facials this morning,” she told me. “That should sound girly enough that he won’t want to join us.”

“No. But he might wonder why
George
wanted to join us,” I joked just as George emerged, yawning and tousled, with damp hair from the shower and dressed in shorts and a River Heights University T-shirt.

“Huh? What’d you say?” she demanded sleepily.

“Never mind. Let’s get out of here.” I grabbed a jelly doughnut, stuffed it in her hand, then aimed her toward the door.

When we emerged from the suite, the hallway was empty except for a maid sweeping nearby. It was Iris from the day before.

“Hi.” I smiled at her as we passed. “Excuse us.”

“Guess she must be assigned to Tobias’s cabin, like Max is to ours,” Bess whispered as we hurried around the corner.

“Yeah.” I grimaced. “Poor thing.”

I forgot about the maid as I led the way toward the elevators. “Where are we going?” George asked, sounding marginally more awake as she finished the last bite of doughnut and licked jelly and powdered sugar off her fingers.

“Becca’s office,” I replied. “I’m hoping it’s still early enough to catch her there. I want to finish our talk and maybe get a look at that threatening e-mail she got before the cruise. I know it’s a stretch, but I might be able to tell if it was written by the same person who left me that note yesterday.”

But when we knocked on Becca’s door, there was no answer. I texted her and got a reply back within a minute or two.

“Where is she?” Bess asked as I scanned the message.

“She’s hosting some kind of VIP breakfast reception,” I said with a sigh. “Says she’ll be tied up for the next hour or two at least. Oh well.”

“Does that mean I got up at the crack of dawn for nothing?” George complained.

I ignored that. “Let’s go check out the pool,” I
said. “Maybe we missed a clue yesterday.”

But that was another dead end. When we reached the pool area, it was spotless. Any trace of “blood” was gone from the water, which sparkled like glass beneath the early morning sun. Every trash receptacle was empty and appeared to have been bleached clean. Even the pool chairs were arranged in perfect lines.

Bess glanced into the same trash bin where George and I had found that drink mix container. “If there were any clues, they’ve definitely been cleaned up by now,” she commented. “The cleaning staff here mean business!”

“Yeah.” My shoulders slumped as I considered what to do next. “Maybe we should try the kitchen. Last night I heard arguing . . . .”

I filled them in on that snippet of argument I’d overheard as we walked. George looked dubious.

“Do you really think some random squabble is part of our case?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Probably not. But you never know. We’re not exactly swimming in useful clues right now, in case you haven’t noticed.”

The main dining room was hushed and empty as we passed. But we heard the sounds of activity coming from a door right across the hall.

“That’s the café,” Bess said. “It’s where we’re supposed to eat breakfast and lunch. Dinner, too, if we don’t feel like being so formal.”

“What?” George yelped. “You didn’t tell me that before you forced me to dress up like I was entering some girly-girl beauty pageant.”

“Give it a rest,” I told her. “Wearing a dress for a couple of hours didn’t kill you, did it?”

I glanced into the café, which in this case seemed to be short for cafeteria. The setting was much less formal than the dining room, with passengers choosing their food from a long buffet line, then finding seats wherever they pleased. There were quite a few early risers in there, helping themselves to eggs, Danish, or fruit salad. I even spotted Tobias’s parents, though the little boy was nowhere in sight.

We continued past the door to the employees-only entrance. As soon as we pushed it open, a cacophony
of sounds and smells struck us—the sizzle of butter, the smell of bacon and eggs, the shouts of a dozen or more kitchen workers asking for more pancake batter or whatever. The hustle and bustle was a stark contrast to the serene peace of most of the ship.

“Now what?” George murmured in my ear. “Someone’s going to notice us and kick us out soon.”

I hardly heard her. I’d just spotted a familiar face. It was Mr. Hawaiian Shirt. Today’s shirt bore a different raucous pattern from yesterday’s, but otherwise he looked exactly the same. He was leaning against a stainless-steel countertop, stroking his mustache with one finger as he talked to a couple of young kitchen workers washing dishes nearby.

That was kind of weird. The first time we’d encountered him, he’d acted as if he didn’t know his way around the ship. And last night he’d been sitting in the dining room like just any other guest. Could he actually be some kind of supervisor or something? He didn’t exactly dress like the rest of the crew, but years of amateur sleuthing had taught me to assume nothing.

“Excuse me,” I said, stepping over to him. “Do you work here?”

He blinked at me. “Oh, hello again,” he said. “No, I don’t work here. I just came back here to thank these hardworking people for their efforts and let them know it’s appreciated by someone.” He waved one meaty hand to indicate the kitchen staff, though the workers nearby had turned away and seemed to be pointedly ignoring him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need some coffee.”

Pushing past us, he hurried out of the kitchen. Bess stared after him.

“That was kind of a strange answer,” she said.

George shrugged. “He seems like kind of a strange guy.”

I tapped the nearest worker on the shoulder. “Hi,” I said. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I wonder if I could ask you a few questions.”

The worker, a short, swarthy man with intelligent dark eyes, shrugged. “I’m sorry, miss,” he said with a shy smile. “Guests should not be back here.”

“I know. This’ll just take a moment.” I made my
smile as ingratiating as possible. “I was just wondering if there’s been any trouble around here lately. In the kitchen, I mean. Anybody not getting along?”

“I would hope not,” the worker responded. “If anything is upsetting you, however, the cruise staff is always available for complaints.” He picked up a stack of dripping pans. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

He hurried off before I could respond. I frowned, glancing around for another victim. At that moment the door swung open behind us.

“This way, kids!” a cheerful voice sang out. “Next I’m going to show you where all the food on the ship is prepared! If you’re good, you might even get some samples!”

“Yay, samples!” several childish voices cheered.

“Good,” another kid said. “I’m starved.”

That last voice sounded cranky. And familiar. Turning, I saw that a whole group of kids had just entered the kitchen, led by the youth activities coordinator Becca had pointed out to Tobias’s family yesterday.

And speaking of Tobias . . .

“This is boring,” Tobias went on, scowling at the coordinator. “When are you going to show us something cool?”

The coordinator’s smile barely wavered. “Now, now, Tobias,” he began. “The tour’s barely started. Just give it a chance, and I’m sure you—” He cut himself off as he noticed my friends and me. “Oh, hello,” he said, hurrying over. His name tag identified him as Hiro. “You must be lost. Are you looking for the café?”

“No, we were just looking around,” I said. “Thanks.”

Hiro looked uncertain. “Um, passengers really shouldn’t be back here.”

“Why not?” George pointed at the kids. “They’re passengers, right?”

“Yes,” Hiro said. “But they’re only here as part of the exclusive backstage tour of the ship.”

“We’re going to see everything!” a little girl spoke up eagerly. “Even the engine!”

Hiro smiled at her. “That’s right, Maria,” he said. Then he turned back to us. “There’s a similar tour for
adults—I think it’s the day after tomorrow. If you’re interested, all you have to do is let someone from the cruise staff know.”

“Okay, maybe we will,” Bess said. “Come on, girls, let’s move on.”

George and I followed her into the hall. “Okay, smelling all that food cooking made me hungry,” George said. “What say we hit up that café? I’m not much good at sleuthing on an empty stomach.”

“Take it easy, George,” I said. “Just because it’s all-you-can-eat, that doesn’t mean you have to try to eat it all.”

George looked up from her fourth helping of scrambled eggs. Bess and I had finished eating a good twenty minutes ago, but George seemed to be a bottomless pit.

“I’m almost done,” she mumbled through a mouthful of toast.

Bess checked her watch. “I should check in with Alan,” she says. “I just realized it’s been, like, an hour and a half since we left the suite. He’s probably wondering
where we are.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m surprised he hasn’t been calling or texting me.”

“Maybe he’s still asleep,” I suggested.

“Maybe.” Bess texted him. A moment later her phone buzzed. “Nope, he’s up,” she reported a moment later. “He just texted me back.”

By the time George finished her eggs, Bess had arranged to meet Alan on the Anchorage Action deck.

When we got there, Alan was waiting for us outside an Alaskan-themed snack bar. “Good morning, ladies,” he sang out, stooping to plant a kiss on Bess’s cheek. “You three were out and about early today!”

“Sorry for abandoning you,” Bess told him, slipping her hand into his. “I just couldn’t wait to check out the spa. Did you have breakfast?”

“Yes, back at the suite,” he replied, patting his belly. “I couldn’t let all those pastries go to waste! But now I’m thinking I need to work some of it off before lunch. What do you say to a round of miniature golf?” He gestured to a sign nearby. “I’ll buy a smoothie for anyone who can beat my score.”

“Mini golf? I’m awesome at that!” George said. “You’re on.”

“Why don’t you three go ahead?” I said. “I’m not really in the mood for mini golf. I might go check out the shops or something.”

Actually, I was thinking that playing miniature golf was a waste of time when I could be investigating. If I could get away, I’d have some time to snoop around, maybe track down that camera crew and see if they’d let me look at their footage.

But Alan shook his head. “What, are you afraid I’ll beat you?” he teased. “Come on, Nancy, you can’t chicken out.”

I forced a smile. “It’s not that . . . .”

Just then a pair of small boys came charging at us from around the corner of the snack bar. “I win!” one of them shouted as both skidded to a halt.

A moment later several other kids appeared too. Finally Hiro arrived, breathless and dragging Tobias by one hand. “Wait up, kids!” he called as his charges swarmed the snack bar. “Everyone’s got to sit quietly
before anyone gets their snack, okay?” Finally noticing us standing there, he smiled. “Oh, hello,” he said. “Can I help you folks find anything?”