Killer Knots (3 page)

“Mom said she’d save us seats at the show tonight if you don’t mind waiting for the ten-thirty performance. She wants to check out the casino first,” Vail said on their way upstairs.

“That suits me fine. All the shops are open now, so we can take a look. I just need to freshen up.” The ship rocked underfoot, and she stumbled. Clutching the staircase railing, she realized they must be moving at a good clip. The swaying motion made her unsteady. She hadn’t noticed it in the dining room, possibly because they’d been closer to the water level.

“I feel like I’m drunk,” Vail said, grinning as a swell made them fumble to the left.

“It won’t be like this the entire trip, will it?” Her full stomach clenched as the next dip drove them starboard. “Maybe I should take one of those Bonine capsules.”

Vail slapped her on the back. “Have a few more drinks; then you won’t notice.”

Stopping on the next landing to catch her breath, she considered getting an exercise machine for their new home. “Did you think our dinner conversation was strange?” she asked.

“I wasn’t listening.”

“You were busy eating. I’m sorry about the mix-up in seating arrangements. Maybe the restaurant manager will straighten things out by tomorrow night.”

“I hope so. He wasn’t much help this evening.”

“Betsy seems nice. I don’t think we have much in common with the other people,” Marla offered.

“They were fortunate to receive a free cruise ticket from an unknown donor.” He gave her an indulgent grin.

The sexy curve of his mouth and the tenderness in his eyes turned her thoughts in another direction. Hmm…making love while the ship swayed could be rather erotic.

Placing one foot above the other on the carpeted stairway, she resumed the climb. Her thigh muscles felt the strain. She did too much standing in place at work and not enough aerobics.

“They must have a rich patron who wants to remain anonymous. Art museums always get wealthy contributors.”

“So what’s bothering you?” He ran a finger inside his neck collar, making her want to loosen his shirt for him.

“For colleagues who work together, they seemed awfully uncomfortable with each other. If I didn’t know better, I’d say things were tense among them.”

“Well, sweetcakes, you don’t know better, and if we’re lucky, we’ll be seated with my parents tomorrow evening.”

When they reached deck eight, she couldn’t remember if their room was port or starboard. Glancing at the corridors branching on either side of the elevators facing them, she hesitated. “Which way?”

“We’re on that side.” Vail let her cross in front of him.

Marla brushed against his torso and figured they might have a good time in the cabin until they met his parents. But when she saw another envelope tucked into the seashell decoration by their door, she dismissed that notion. “It’s another message for Martha Shore,” she told Vail, her stomach sinking.

“Open it,” he commanded.

Inside their room, Marla ripped open the envelope and drew out a folded paper. Relief swept through her as she read the contents aloud while Vail shrugged out of his sports coat.

Please join us at the fine art preview and Champagne Reception this evening at 9:00 P.M. in the gallery, Deck 7, forward. Don’t miss this unique opportunity to preview some of the works we will have for sale and enjoy a glass of complimentary champagne. Meet Eric, your lively Auctioneer, who will explain the auction process and tell you about our artists featured during the cruise. Bring this invitation, and collect two free raffle tickets for a chance to win a five-hundred-dollar framed work of art
.

“Sounds like fun,” she said. “Maybe we should go. We don’t have to meet your folks until after ten.”

“I didn’t know you were an art enthusiast.” Loosening his tie, Vail approached her, his eyes gleaming with desire.

“I’m not, but it’s a good chance to learn something new. Plus we might find a piece we like for our new house.”

“That’s true, but wouldn’t you rather play a bit?” Rubbing his body against hers, he made his arousal known.

She cast a surreptitious glance at her watch. They could either make it quick, or savor each other later. Despite her wish not to get caught up in planned activities, she couldn’t deny the feeling that they’d be missing an important event if they didn’t attend the auction.

“We can relax after the show tonight. I didn’t notice invitations on anyone else’s door, although other guests probably received the flyer that was on our bed when we arrived. Maybe we received this special offer for a reason.”

Speculation lit his gaze. “It’s possible,” he admitted. “All right, we’ll stop by and see what’s going on. Perhaps someone there can tell us why your name keeps being misspelled.”

Her heart swelled with love. “Good idea. I knew I brought you along for a reason,” she said, giving him a brief kiss.

Fifteen minutes later, Marla pushed open the door to the art gallery and entered a foyer that took her breath away.
This looks like one of those European opera houses that Thurston mentioned
. The plush red carpet, framed oil paintings, crystal chandelier, and curved staircase made her jaw drop in awe.

“Sweet,” Vail remarked, with a cynical twist to his lips.
He’s probably wondering how much they mark up the items for sale
, Marla thought. Certainly no expenses were spared in decorating.

Compelled to climb the stairs, she held on to a polished wood banister. At the top was a set of double mahogany doors. She entered the gallery proper, where rows of cushioned seats upholstered in red and gold faced forward. A bar took up a rear corner, with filled champagne glasses on its counter. Her nose detected a citrus fragrance while her mouth salivated for a glass of bubbly. Passengers milled about, chatting and sipping from fluted glassware. Paintings on easels lined the room, and more canvases were stacked against the walls.

Someone bumped her elbow. “Marla, I’m so glad you came. Now I’ll have someone else here I know.” Betsy, the brunette from dinner, gave her a wide grin.

“Oh, hi, Betsy. We got an invitation to the preview in our room, so we decided to attend. We’ve never been to an art auction before.” Vail meandered toward the bar, leaving them alone. She hadn’t thought about it, but if Betsy had received a free cruise ticket, she still could have come with a companion. “Pardon me for asking, but did you come on the cruise by yourself?”

“Yep, none of my friends could take the time off.” Betsy giggled. “I’ve got my own cabin, even though I understand normally you have to pay extra for a single. Hello, there’s Kent. I suppose he’s in the same boat as I am. See, he isn’t wearing a wedding ring. Not that I care; I don’t think my parents would be happy if I hooked up with an exterminator.”

“He must be interested in art to attend the preview.”

Betsy poked her. “Maybe he came for the free champagne.”

“It looks as though the rest of your colleagues had the same idea,” Marla noted, observing the familiar faces of their table-mates among the guests. She felt a vibration underfoot as the vessel steadied itself from a large swell.

The doors burst open, and Kate and John strode inside. They spotted Marla at once and headed over. Dalton reached her at the same time as his parents.

“Mom, I thought you were going to the casino. And where’s Brie?” He handed Marla a glass of champagne. She took a sip, enjoying the fizz as the cool liquid slid down her throat.

“Brie went to the teen mixer in the disco. I read about this event in the newsletter and decided to stop by. We’ve been looking for a new picture for our family room. Hi, Marla. Do you have an interest in art?”

“I don’t know much about it, so I’m here to learn. I’m sorry about the mix-up with our seats at dinner.”

Kate patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll work things out. I hope your cabin is comfortable.”

“Yes, it’s great, thanks.”

Recognition dawned in Kate’s eyes as she glanced beyond Marla. “Oh, look. Some of the people we met in the dining room are here. I’ll introduce you.”

She dragged over a young woman with a slender build and shoulder-length brown hair. “Marla and Dalton, I’d like you to meet one of my dinner companions. You won’t believe this, but her name is Martha Shore.”

Martha Shore? What a coincidence. We even look a like.” Marla studied the woman, who could have stood in for a carbon copy of herself. Glossy mahogany hair, dark brown eyes, and a long neck above a well-endowed chest. Martha’s hair was even the same length as hers, tumbling onto her shoulders instead of curving inward at chin length. Was it a coincidence that Martha was seated at the same dining-room table as her prospective in-laws?

“Your mother-in-law was telling me about you,” Martha said in a low contralto voice. “I gather there was a mix-up at dinner, but there’re too many of us to switch.” Martha twisted one of her dangling earrings.

“What do you mean?”

“We have three people from the museum at my table, and you’d only have two seats available at yours.”

“You work at the same art museum in Tampa as the people at my table?” Marla said, blinking.

“Sure do. I’m the gift shop manager.”

No wonder the people at Marla’s table had given a start of recognition at her name. Someone at the cruise line must have confused her with Martha Shore and exchanged their dining-room assignments.

“Hey, Martha,” said Betsy while Marla digested this notion, “you guys all got your cruise tickets as freebies too, right?”

“Yep. I don’t know why everyone’s come to the art preview, though. Like the bug man over there. How can he afford to buy any of this stuff?”

“Maybe he came to check out the chicks,” Vail cracked before moving off with his parents and leaving Marla with her newfound friends. “I’ll save you a seat,” he called over his shoulder.

“Kent may have gotten the same invitation on his door as I did,” Marla suggested. “After all, who can pass up the chance to win a free raffle?”

Betsy jabbed her. “You got a separate note? So did I. I wonder if the others in our group found one on their doors, too.”

“What about the rest of these people? They’re not with the museum,” Marla replied.

“Hello, probably everyone got that flyer on their bed. Plus the preview is listed in the newsletter. The only difference is that we get two extra raffle tickets when we register. Let’s ask Brooklyn if he got the same invitation.” She led them over to a large man with mocha skin. “Marla, this is Brooklyn Jones. He’s in charge of the museum cafe.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Brooklyn’s ready grin accompanied his deep, rumbling chuckle.

“Nice shirt,” Marla said, admiring the tropical rum drinks depicted on his colorful top.

“Thanks. You that gal at the other table? Your boyfriend came around during dinner.”

Marla’s shoulders tensed. These continual references to the seating snafu were getting tedious. “We were wondering if you’d received a private invitation to the art preview?”

“Sure, didn’t you?”

“I think I’m receiving messages meant for Martha here.” Marla noticed how Martha stiffened. “Someone must have mixed up our names. That could be how Dalton and I ended up at the wrong dinner table.”

“You may be right,” Betsy said, nodding. Her glossy brown hair, straight down her back, swished as she spoke. “Are you saying only people from the museum got this free raffle ticket offer, and you received Martha’s by mistake?”

“Yes, and that means someone on the cruise staff knows the members of your group. But then again, if all your tickets were booked together, that makes sense.”

Brooklyn pointed a large finger at a nearby couple. “Ask them if they got the same deal. I’m gonna save us some seats.”

He sauntered off with Martha Shore, while Marla glanced at the pair he’d indicated. The guy was a hunk with a shock of black hair, deep-set eyes, and sculpted arms like a bodybuilder. He looked as though he’d be at home camping in the woods, unlike his companion. The lady’s refined gestures and redheaded elegance seemed more suited to hosting a soiree.

Betsy made the introductions. “Marla, this is Cliff Peters and Helen Bryce.”

Cliff gave Marla’s hand a hard squeeze, while Helen clutched her Gucci handbag and smiled. Betsy determined that the pair had received the same invitation to the art preview.

“What do you do at the museum?” Marla asked them, holding out her glass for a circulating waiter to refill.

“I’m head docent,” Helen explained, “and Cliff is chief of security. We’re so excited to be on the cruise.”

“Me, too.” Bustling activity at the other end of the room told her they needed to be seated soon. “I think we’d better go find our chairs,” Marla said, excusing herself. Signaling for Betsy to follow, she veered down the center aisle.

“Thank goodness your fiancé saved me a seat,” Betsy told her. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be near Thurston Stark. Have you noticed how he brags continually about all the trips he and Heidi have taken?”

Marla grinned. “He likes to sound important. Do you have much contact with him at work?”

“Not really. I’m the public relations specialist, so I work with Bob, who’s our business manager, and Olly, the director. Thurston is chairman of the foundation that supports the museum.”

Balancing her glass and handbag, Marla shuffled through a row of seats toward Dalton, whose bored expression made her feel guilty. She hadn’t even noted his parents leaving. In her eagerness to make new friends, she shouldn’t have neglected the main reason she came aboard: to spend time alone with him and his daughter.

Dropping onto the cushioned chair beside him, she nodded in gratitude. “Thanks for saving us the seats. Hopefully, this won’t take too long and we can join your parents.”

His lips curved in an understanding smile. “Mom is having fun in the casino. Don’t worry about her.”

“Man, are you lucky to find such a nice guy,” Betsy commented, tugging on her elbow. “I’m going to the singles mixer tonight, so maybe things won’t be so dull hereafter. Hello, what’s the matter with Olly? He looks as though he’s seen a ghost. Holy mackerel!” Betsy’s attention riveted on the man who’d just taken center stage. His boyish face and bow tie reminded Marla of Matthew Broderick in
The Music Man
.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” the man said. “I’m Eric Rand, your auctioneer, and I’m here to explain what you can expect this week at our auctions.” His eyes crinkled as he regarded the room packed with guests. “First thing you’ll want to do is register with that lovely lady at the table in the rear. She’ll assign you a numbered bid card. You’ll keep this same number at all the auctions. Just for attending, we’ll give you a free work of art at the end of each session, plus you’ll be eligible for raffles where we give away art worth several thousand dollars!”

He swept his arm in a wide gesture. “You can get an extra raffle ticket by signing up for our special collector’s card. The average credit is fifteen thousand dollars if you get approved, and you have thirteen months to clear your balance. That’s thirteen months of no interest and no payments! Use our money to start your collections, folks. What could be a better deal? Whoo-hoo!” He circled his fist in the air.

Marla pursed her lips. “They sure come up with creative ways to take your cash,” she muttered.

“No kidding.” Vail glanced at her, a pained expression on his face. “Can we leave now?”

“This shouldn’t take too much longer,” she said, hoping it was true. A waiter came around pouring more champagne. She held up her glass for a refill.

“All sales are final once the gavel comes down,” Eric continued, speaking into his headset microphone. “Since we’re independent contractors, we have to add a fifteen percent buyer’s premium. But don’t forget, you’re getting a hefty savings off retail prices. All our works come framed, matted, and shipped.”

He paused to answer questions from the audience. “We have sixteen hundred works of art to offer, folks, including originals from the classics: Picasso, Rembrandt, Dali, and Chagall, plus popular artists like Tomasz Rut, Kinkade, Tarkay, and Peter Max. We’ll even include a registered certificate of authenticity to go with your piece. Whoo-hoo!”

“Do we hold the card up to bid?” a guest shouted.

“That’s right. Occasionally we’ll have what we call mystery items. The picture will be turned around on the easel so you can’t see it, but if you’re interested, raise your bidding card. After people bid, we’ll show the piece. There’s no obligation if you don’t like it.”

His eyes narrowed as he examined the front-row warriors, where the Smernoffs, Wolfsons, and Starks sat. They shifted uncomfortably, as though he were beaming telepathic thoughts in their direction. Marla glanced at Betsy. She seemed transfixed, her eyes glued to the auctioneer. Did the museum people know Eric Rand?

“Appraisals are available and recommended for insurance purposes,” the auctioneer continued. “The first one is thirty-five dollars, with each subsequent appraisal fifteen dollars apiece.”

“Another way for them to make money,” Vail drawled.

“Each cruise, we offer a special collector’s portfolio.” Eric paused, his eyes sharp as lasers. “This week, we’re especially fortunate to have a rare collection of Alden Tusk’s signed suites for sale.”

Betsy stiffened. “Holy mackerel, he can’t be serious.”

Others in the audience murmured among themselves while Marla’s eyes widened.

“Bless my bones, I haven’t heard his name in a long time,” she muttered to Vail.

“Whose?”

“The artist.” She lowered her voice and leaned toward him so no one else could hear. “Remember those unsavory photos I’d posed for in order to earn money to pay the lawyers after Tammy died?” She flushed at his curt nod. “Well, that wasn’t my only modeling job, so to speak.”

“What do you mean?”

“I did a legit modeling stint when I was still taking ballet lessons, right before Stan and I got married. An artist came into the studio and wanted a subject for a series of portraits. He hired me, and I posed for several sessions in my leotard and tights. His name was Alden Tusk. I never heard from him again, but he’s popped up on the Internet now and then for winning awards. I’d love to find one of the paintings he did of me.”

Vail’s face brightened. Clearly, he’d expected a different sort of confession. “There’s no telling what might show up at the auction,” he said, patting her knee.

Eric’s booming voice drew her attention back to the podium. “Many of you may not know that Alden Tusk painted a series of three pictures known as a triptych,” he said, with a broad grin. “His series is complete, and it’s on board the ship. Let me tell you, folks, this is the opportunity of a lifetime! Tusk’s work has soared in value since his death. Whoo-hoo!”

Oliver Smernoff launched to his feet while Thurston twisted his head and raised his hand in a gesture to Cliff Peters. The rest of the museum crew looked astounded.

“How did you get Tusk’s triptych?” Oliver demanded. “It was last shown at our museum. It belongs to us!”

“Our buyers scour the world for interesting pieces,” Eric said, without acknowledging the question. Nor did he glance at the front-row occupants, focusing his gaze on those seated beyond. “We even commission some artists directly to produce work for our auctions. Last year, our company sold over three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of art. Don’t forget, these buys are tax and duty free. You’re getting a bargain, folks, not to mention a sound investment. You don’t want to leave without owning one of these fabulous pieces.”

“Olly’s wrong,” Betsy mumbled, squeezing her handbag strap. “Alden’s set doesn’t belong to the museum. It was one of the works he’d donated for sale, before he, um, you know…”

“Before he what?” Marla asked, curious to learn what had happened to the artist.

“Sorry to cut this short,” Vail interrupted, “but we have to meet my parents in fifteen minutes at the Meridian Showroom.”

He rose, his meaningful glance making Marla remember her obligations. As soon as the last raffle number was called, she raced to join him in the rear of the room. First, she stopped to register for her bidding card and pick up her free picture, a signed seriograph by Picot. “I’ll see you around,” she mouthed, waving to Betsy from the exit.

Too bad she hadn’t had time to follow up on Betsy’s remark, Marla thought as Vail led her down three levels via the central atrium staircase. She’d enjoyed working for Alden, even for such a brief time. The young man had been an enigma to her back then, and now she wondered about the outcome of his career. She could always ask Betsy for more information tomorrow, or at the next art event.

Tempted to linger by the shops, she gazed wistfully at displays of gold neck chains, Puerto Rican rum, perfumes, and logo shirts. Time for that later. Trailing Vail into the theater, she halted inside the entrance, awed by the tiered red velvet seats and glittery gold stage curtain. State-of-the-art lighting and sound equipment escalated her anticipation for the show. She spotted Brianna and ushered Vail in his daughter’s direction. After stumbling her way through the row, she air kissed the teen. “Hi, honey, we’ve missed you. Did you meet any other kids?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna hang out at the pool together tomorrow and maybe meet in the disco after dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Marla squeezed between Brianna and Vail, with Kate and John on Brianna’s other side. She felt the swaying motion of the ship and the engine vibration, more noticeable here than in the art gallery.

“We really appreciate you giving us this cruise,” she said, leaning over to address Kate. “It was very generous of you.”

The older woman smiled, lines crinkling beside her warm hazel eyes. “Consider it an engagement gift. We’re so thrilled you and Dalton are getting married. We just can’t wait to see your new house, too. From what he’s told us about you, I know you two will be happy. All we ask in return is that you treat our son right.”

Marla blinked. It was difficult for her to think of the stalwart detective as someone’s child. “I’ll do my best.”

“Brie told us how you’re teaching her to apply makeup and advising her on female issues.”

She cleared her throat. “I’ve had enough teenage clients share their concerns. I’m glad Brie feels she can turn to me. I hope I won’t disappoint her,” she said, patting the girl’s arm.

“She adores you.” Chuckling, Kate added, “Maybe you can help me with my hair this week. It flies away in this humidity.”