Mystral Murder (Julie O'Hara Mystery Series) (7 page)

“Security has been all over the ship. Did they question you and Gill?”

“Yes. We had a small problem; Gill went out for a walk. How about you?”

“Oh, worse than that.
I was so mad at Joe, I spent the night in front of Solaria spa on a chaise.”

“Gill said they think it happened on Deck 12. Did you see anything, or hear anything?”

“No, nothing. I took a sleeping pill, an Ambien. You could cook dinner on that stuff and not remember it. Thinking back, it was really stupid of me to take it and then go out on deck. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m lucky
I didn’t take a header overboard.”

“Well, thank God you didn’t. Oh, look, there’s Gill,” she said. He was wending his way through the deck chairs and lounges, tall and tan with thick silver hair, his open floral shirt lifting in the ocean breeze. He had a drink in one hand and a magazine in the other. He dropped the magazine on Cathy’s lap.

“Hey, Julie, how are you?”

“Oh, I’m okay, considering…”

“Yeah, it’s terrible.  Everybody’s shocked. I never saw Adrienne drink like that. She was always so…responsible. You know what I mean?”

“Yes. She struck me that way, too. Have you been friends a long time?”

“Yeah, quite a while.  She planned all our cruises, right, Cath?”

“Yes, we always went together,” Cathy said, standing and putting on a wrap. “Gill, I’m getting hungry. Let’s go get something to eat.” She turned to Julie, tucking the magazine under her arm. “Would you like to come with us?”

“Oh, no, thank you. You two go ahead. I’m just going to relax here for a while.”

As they walked off, Julie considered their disparate reactions. Gill apparently liked Adrienne, but Cathy certainly wasn’t going to miss her. Julie settled back on the chaise, her eyes drifting across the pool. Lottie Pelletier was gone.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 19

J
oe had called Dale Simpson to express his sorrow about Adrienne and to apologize in case he’d been out of line the night before. To his surprise, Dale had welcomed his call and suggested they meet at Barrister’s Pub on the Promenade.  It was obvious that Dale’s choice of meeting place and his method of coping with Adrienne’s disappearance dovetailed. Hearing Dale’s slight inebriation on the phone strengthened Joe’s vow of abstinence. When he got to the small pub, he had a quick word with the bartender/ waiter, to omit the alcohol in anything he ordered…and then he took a table outside, so he didn’t have to stare at the bottles.

Like most of the casual restaurants on the Promenade, Barrister’s Pub was a sidewalk cafe.  Although there were no other patrons in the bar, the ship’s stores had plenty of activity on this “At Sea” day. All the duty-free shops were open - something that was not allowed whenever the ship was docked - and the Promenade looked like an upscale, tropical Mall with liquor stores, designer boutiques, perfumeries, coffee/bakery shops and the like. Joe passed the time watching all the happy shoppers with their
Mystral tote bags bulging.

He looked up several stories to the ceiling covering the huge area. It was made of translucent panels cleverly designed to resemble a vast skylight.  Landscaped oases were carved out of the polished marble floor of the Promenade. 
The artificial light doesn’t seem to bother all these palms and plants,
Joe thought idly.

He glanced to the right and saw Simpson approaching.

“Hi, Dale,” he said, standing. “How are you doing?”

The two of them shook hands.

“Okay, I guess, Joe.”

“Hey, I’m sorry about Adrienne, buddy.
Any news?”

“Thanks. No, there’s nothing new.”

They sat and waved the waiter over.

“They’re not going to find her after all this time, Joe. I don’t understand it. What could have happened when she left the club? How could she have fallen overboard?”

“I wish I could help, Dale. The truth is I got really drunk and went back to my cabin. I have no idea where she went when I left her.”

Oddly, Dale seemed to accept that simple disclaimer at face value. Was it because Joe had just met Adrienne a few hours prior and had no reason to harm her? Or did he know Joe wasn’t on the scene? 

They were quiet for a moment or two.

“So, how long have you two been married?” Joe asked.

“Let’s see, six years. Yeah. I’m thirty-two, so it’s six years. I was playing for the Rays. We met at Tropicana Field in Tampa.”

“Do you ever miss playing?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” he shrugged. “The truth is they would have let me go. I thought it was better to take the money and run.”

The waiter arrived and Dale ordered a vodka and tonic.

“I’ll have the same,” Joe said.

The waiter nodded at Joe. “Yes, sir, right away.”

“Anyway, the timing was right,” Dale said. “Adrienne needed me to woo the wives and keep them from feeling jealous. Besides, we had a helluva spark in the beginning, you know what I mean? I thought I died and went to heaven when I married Adrienne.”

“So you two travelled with your clients a lot?”

“Yeah, the heavy hitters like Gill and Cathy. Especially cruises, Adrienne likes cruises.
Liked
cruises,” he said.

Although Dale wasn’t spelling it out in so many words, it sounded to Joe as if the “spark” had fizzled a while ago. “So what happens now? Do you keep working for
Paradis Travel?”

“Damned if I know. I signed an agreement with Adrienne when we got married, but I don’t remember exactly what’s in it. Her folks live in Paris, you know. They’re rich, wanted to make sure I wasn’t after her money.  Funny thing was
, I really loved her. I didn’t give a shit about her money.”

Joe noted the past tense again and something that sounded like a pre-nuptial agreement.
Like hell he doesn’t know what’s in it.
“So, no kids, Dale?”

“No.  Adrienne never wanted any; I did, but…”

But you’re still a young stud and now you can have some,
Joe thought. 

“I could use some advice, Joe. The security cops think I did something to her. Hell, I was in my cabin the whole night, but how am I supposed to prove that?  I was alone.”

“I don’t think that means much. So was I. So were a lot of people.”

“
You were alone?  Where was Julie?”

“We had a fight.  She slept in the Solaria spa, came back before dawn,” Joe said. “We made up.” Once again, he noted Dale’s unquestioning acceptance of someone who got bombed with his wife and didn’t have an alibi for the night.
Why doesn’t he suspect me? I wouldn’t be so trusting if our positions were reversed.

“Listen, Dale, the problem you’ve got isn’t just opportunity. Take it from me; I’ve been an investigator for a long time. When you get off this ship, what the cops will be looking for is
motive
.  For instance, they’re going to ask if Adrienne had insurance and who’s the beneficiary.”

“Yeah, I figured that,” he said, frowning.

“So here’s how it’s going to go; pretend I’m the cops.  Are you on her policy?”

“Yeah, but I never figured anything like this.”

“Of course not,” Joe said sympathetically.  “The other thing they’re going to look at is your relationship, Dale. I mean, if you two weren’t getting along…”

“Hey, we had our differences like anybody, but we weren’t planning a divorce or anything like that!”

Yeah, I bet the pre-nup ruled that out…

Dale picked up his glass and drained it. “This whole thing really sucks.”

“It does. Sorry, man,” Joe said.

“Oh, hell,” he said, rising. “I’ve got to go.
Paradis Travel has a shitload of unhappy passengers who want to make sure they get their refund for their cancelled St. Maarten tours. I’ve got to go check the list. Can you believe people are actually coming up to me and asking about that?” He shook his head. “I’ll see you, Joe.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you. Just take it one day at a time, buddy.”

Like me,
Joe thought
.

***

Dale Simpson went to the Tour Desk and checked the
Paradis Travel list of guests against the list of those who had booked either the Phillipsburg Shopping Tour or the Explore St. Maarten bus tour. To his relief, every agency guest was accounted for by name and number of tickets. The Tour Desk assured him that all would be credited back the full amount they’d prepaid for the cancelled tours.

At least that was off his mind…“least” being the operative word.

Dale hurried back to his cabin, which was a complimentary mini-suite on Deck 10. Miguel, the cabin steward, had been there in his absence and cleaned everything. As usual, he’d twisted a beige towel into the shape of an animal and left it on the center of the bed. This time it was a dachshund adorned with tiny white plastic sunglasses.  The stupid dog seemed to symbolize everything that was wrong. Dale snatched it off the bed and threw it against the wall.

He went to the bar and made himself another vodka and tonic. He put ice, vodka and then tonic in a short tumbler, looked at it for a few seconds, and then dumped the whole thing into a bigger glass, topping it off with more vodka. Grabbing the drink, he went to the sliding glass door, opened it and stepped out on the balcony. He sat on a deck chair and stared at the clouds that were gathering on the horizon. There were just a few white puffs, but somehow they seemed ominous. He took a deep, comforting swallow of vodka.

Dale Simpson was scared. In spite of all his planning to be free of Adrienne, there was no joy now that she was gone.  On the contrary, Dale felt as if Adrienne was reaching out from her watery grave to clutch him and pull him in with her.

*
* * * *

CHAPTER 20

“A
nything else you need, Captain Collier?”

“No. That’ll be all, Captain Houghton,” Andrew Collier said, quickly closing his computer screen. Alan Houghton was the Staff Captain, head of the Deck Department and second in command onboard. He would be on the bridge tonight, giving Andrew a sorely needed break. Ever since the MOB, there had been no rest for the Commander.

Always reluctant to share his personal life, Andrew didn’t care to have people reading his email over his shoulder. This particular one was from his son, Kyle, twenty-nine, who was just beginning to understand the break-up of his parents’ marriage fifteen years ago when Andrew was forty. His younger son, Jake, was unforgiving, but Andrew had hopes of changing that over time. 

The divorce hadn’t been Andrew’s idea, but the sea was a jealous mistress. When he became a captain, the extra months away proved too much for Susan. At first, the mere thought of being permanently separated from his sons, who were only fourteen and ten at the time, cut to the quick, but he accepted his wife’s decision graciously.

Although he was faithful with their support, the boys had refused to see him or even speak to him for several years. That was a terribly painful time, but now that they were older and more mature - especially Kyle - Andrew was trying hard to rebuild his relationship with them, albeit by telephone and the internet.

At least that’s going well
, he thought, considering recent events onboard.

As commanding officer, Andrew was acutely aware of his responsibility for the efficient operation of Holiday Cruise Lines’ $800 million ship,
Mystral. Paramount in his mind was the welfare and safety of the nearly four thousand people onboard. He had been absolutely sickened by the recent disaster involving the Costa cruise ship, Concordia, which had veered from of its approved course and run aground off the Italian coast, ultimately listing and sinking, with many lives lost.

The despicable behavior of the Captain - who had been drinking and partying with a young woman, and who then abandoned the ship prior to the passengers and crew - was unthinkable to a ship’s captain like Andrew. 

It was the reason Conde Nast Traveler magazine was aboard on this cruise. The Mystral and her captain had been chosen for a story that would counteract the terrible publicity generated by the Concordia. The spread would showcase a properly run ship and all that was wonderful about cruising. Of course, that was not happening now. Andrew had already called Valerie Gilman, the Cruise Director, and told her to cancel it.

But some things couldn’t be summarily cancelled. With Adrienne
Paradis overboard, quite possibly murdered, a full-blown investigation of everyone with any animosity toward her was inevitable.  Andrew closed his eyes, his head resting on his hands.

Oh, Michelle.  How can I protect you? What are we going to do?

* * * * *

CHAPTER 21

J
oe and Julie were having dinner at the Aussie Grille, one of the ship’s small, elegant specialty restaurants.  They’d chosen a secluded table and they were presently enjoying their main course, superbly grilled shrimp and filet mignon with asparagus. The problem was that they couldn’t talk privately because of the over-solicitous staff.  So far, they’d been visited by the sommelier, the headwaiter and the master chef.