Set Sail for Murder (12 page)

“Or, maybe the writer knows who killed Laura Crawford and wants you to know that you’re on the right track,” Placenta added.

“But I’m not on the right track,” Polly complained. “Other than your two beaux, I haven’t a clue who knocked off Laura Crawford. I don’t think it’s Rosemary from the spa. However, I’d still like to talk to the client that Talia was supposedly massaging. I want to corroborate that at the time of the murder she was servicing Mr. Moneybags, as she claims.”

Polly stepped out of bed and slipped into her bathrobe. “Meet me on the upper Tundra Deck in an hour.”

“Shouldn’t you get some sleep?” Tim asked.

“I’m too wound up. I’ve gotta find out who wrote this note, and have the captain arrest Lawrence Deerfield.” She looked at Tim. “And perhaps
your
cutie too. So much to do!”

“One more night?” Placenta begged.

“And give him an opportunity to do to
you
what he did to Laura? Forget it!” Polly said. “If Lawrence suspects that you looked at his DVDs, it won’t take him long to realize that you know he’s missing the murder weapon!”

Placenta sighed. “Why is there something seductive about bad boys?”

As Polly scooted her son and maid toward the cabin door, she said to Tim, “Which chorus boy from
Ha-Ha, Hollywood!
?”

Tim shook his head and gave his mother a kiss on her forehead. “Tundra. One hour.”

“S
orry I’m tardy,” Polly said as she arrived ten minutes later than expected at the appointed place on the Tundra Deck. “Ali MacGraw cornered me by the animal balloon exhibition for kiddies. She wanted my opinion about a
Love Story
sequel, and should she reunite with Ryan.

“I laughed too quickly and had to spend five minutes explaining that if she’s looking for obese, past their sell-by-date costars, Jim Belushi or Drew Carey would be far better-known choices than the widower O’Neal. I have to learn to keep my big mouth shut because I then spent another five minutes apologizing for quoting someone who said, ‘Age mellows some men. Others it makes more rotten.’ I swear I wasn’t talking about Ryan or anyone in particular. But dear Ali wasn’t buying it. I had to accidentally on purpose pop the dachshund balloon she was wearing on her head to escape.”

Placenta waved away Polly’s excuse. “Tim and I have some unsettling news. There’s no one named Dorian on the ship.”

“We checked at the information desk,” Tim said. “Did you get the guy’s last name?”

Polly looked confused. “That’s embarrassing. I spent the entire evening calling him Dorian. Maybe he was just being a gentleman by not correcting me. Where on Earth did I come up with Dorian? Maybe it rhymes with another name.”

Tim shook his head. “Tried that. Historian. Victorian. Kerkorian. Even Ecuadorian. Nobody on this cruise has a name similar to Dorian.”

“I’m sure there’s a simple explanation,” Polly said. “We’re having drinks after the show. I’ll come right out and demand clarification.”

“We’ll join you,” Placenta insisted. “And don’t put up a fuss, otherwise you’re not going at all!”

“Yes, Mother,” Polly said. “In the meantime, I’ve given a lot of thought to the fact that Lawrence purchased my DVD collection on the day we sailed, and you say he’s missing the disc of season six. Can you get me into his cabin? We need to find more evidence before going to the captain.”

Placenta smiled and withdrew a key card from her blouse pocket. “He gave it to me. Thought I might want to surprise him one night. First, let’s make sure he’s on duty. He should be at the piano in the atrium.”

The trio returned to the inside deck and raced to the Promenade Deck railing overlooking the wide atrium. There, ten floors below, was Lawrence Deerfield playing “Memory” from
Cats.
“Yep, we’re safe. Let’s get to his cabin, fast,” Placenta said.

Accommodations for the ship’s entertainers and staff were far below the other passengers on what was affectionately called the Derrière Deck. It was barely more suitable than a slavehold. When Placenta inserted the key card and opened the door, Polly looked at the cramped space and said, “Eww. There’s not enough room for the two of you.”

“You’d be surprised how little space two people need.” Placenta smiled. “Plus when I’m here I’m not paying attention
to the size … of the room. There!” She pointed to the small built-in table below the wall-mounted television.
“The Polly Pepper Playhouse
deluxe collector’s edition boxed set sitting out in plain sight.”

Polly picked up the box and withdrew the jewel cases in which the discs were stored. “Got him! Disc six
is
missing!”

“Careful of fingerprints!” Tim said as he plucked a tissue from a box on the floor by the bed and used it to open a drawer in the desk/makeup table. “A Bible. Pens. Passport.
Chitty Chitty
Gang
Bang
porn DVD.” He closed the drawer and opened the closet, which was crammed with clothes. Pushing aside the hangers, he checked the shelf behind the shirts and pants. He retrieved a shoe box and removed the lid. “Disposable camera. A bunch of cocktail napkins with names of men and women, and cabin numbers. What’s this?”

Tim set the box down on the bed and took out a theater program.
“Follies.”
He read the title aloud. “Rancho Grande Arts Festival. Isn’t this the place from which Lawrence got fired? Laura had him canned.” Flipping through the pages, he came to a bio of Laura Crawford. Her picture had been defaced with inky black eyes, scars, and devil’s horns. “I thought she was fired too.”

Polly looked at the program. “Small theaters often print these things in advance of the performances.” She looked further and found a paper insert. “‘The role of Carlotta Campion will be played by Tracey Edison.’ That was supposed to be Laura’s role. Why would Lawrence keep this?”

“What’s that on the back?” Tim said, noticing something written in hand.

Polly turned the page over. “Synonyms for L.C.” Polly went down the list “Oh, my! Can’t say that word aloud. Or that one. Or that one!” She handed the paper to Tim who raised an eyebrow and passed the paper to Placenta. “Where have I heard those words before?” she gloated. “Ah, yes.
Through a certain adjoining stateroom wall. Apparently, they’re also terms of endearment!”

“Let’s just hurry and get out of here,” Tim panicked.

“Not until we have more evidence.” Polly frowned. “A missing DVD and a few naughty words about Laura Crawford are far from sufficient to nail this guy!”

Placenta’s eye spotted something on the floor next to the overflowing wastebasket. “Looks like the housekeeping staff doesn’t get around to cleaning up after the ship’s performers. She picked up a pincushion that looked like a miniature plush toy of Dick Cheney. She pushed a finger into its rotund belly and made a squawking noise out of the side of her mouth. “I’ll never be able to look at Lawrence again.” She returned the toy to where she found it.

Tim bent down to pick it up again. “All the pins are in its neck. Except for this one in the back.” He withdrew the pin that held a folded fortune-cookie-size bit of paper. He unfolded the paper and read, “‘L.C.’”

“A voodoo doll!” Polly announced.

“D’ya think?” Placenta said, hopefully. “Maybe the pins are meant for Cheney.”

Tim shrugged. “L.C. could stand for Laura Crawford. All the pins are in her neck, which is where she was attacked.”

“The initials could also refer to Lynne Cheney. Or Lynda Carter, for that matter,” Placenta said.

“I’m willing to bet this is the evidence we need,” Polly said triumphantly, and placed the pincushion in her purse. “Let’s get out of here! Take the DVDs and the
Follies
program. I’ve got the scary voodoo veep.”

As the trio exited the cabin, they looked up and down the corridor for anyone who might see them. With the coast clear, they raced to the elevators and punched the Up button with repeated jabs. Finally, the car arrived and the three stepped in. “To the bridge!” Polly insisted. Tim pushed the button for the Navigation Deck. Without speaking to
each other they all had the same thought.
We’ve got ourselves a killer!

Security on the Navigation Deck was as tight as the San Onofre Nuclear Generating Station. The instant that Polly stepped from the elevator car, two ship’s officers blocked her way and insisted that she and her party return to an unrestricted area.

Instantly morphing into her queen of television mode, Polly gave the officers her most effulgent and endearing smile. “Silly me. I know that I should have made a reservation. But it’s urgent that I see the captain.” After a moment of explaining that she had information about the murder of Laura Crawford, one of the officers unhooked a walkie-talkie from his belt loop and radioed the captain. In a moment, a third officer arrived and escorted Polly, Tim, and Placenta through a series of locked portals. Finally, they were ushered into a small conference room. “Captain Sheridan will be with you shortly.”

“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” Tim asked. “I mean, we don’t have a confession. We don’t even have real proof.”

Polly frowned. “What do you call a missing DVD, the same one used to kill Laura Crawford? And the Dick Cheney voodoo doll? And the
Follies
program with all those expletives about Laura? I think we have more than enough to drag Lawrence Deerfield’s skinny butt into a cell and charge him with murder.”

Just then the door opened, and Captain Sheridan stepped into the room with another officer who was bearing a tape recorder and a manila folder labeled CRAWFORD, LAURA A. “Please be seated,” Captain Sheridan said. “Miss Pepper, I understand that you have information about Laura Crawford’s killer?”

“Indeed, I do!” Polly stood up and began to pace. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, dear Captain, but one
of your very own cruise entertainers is Laura Crawford’s killer. The piano player, Lawrence Deerfield. He slashed Laura Crawford’s neck in the spa on the night of May tenth, our first day at sea.”

Captain Sheridan nodded. “Evidence?” he asked.

“For one thing, he purchased my DVD collection on the day of the murder. It’s been established that the weapon used was disc number six. Deerfield has the collection, and that disc is missing! Also, I found this in his cabin.” Polly held out the pincushion and handed it to the captain. “Notice the location of all the pins, except the one in the back. Read what’s pinned there.”

Captain Sheridan did as instructed and raised an eyebrow when he saw the initials L.C.

“Finally, there’s this theater program from a show that Laura Crawford was supposed to do with Lawrence, but she had him fired. He’s held hostile intent ever since. Look at the back. He even spells out how much he hated Laura’s guts. I’m too much of a lady to have those words in my virginal vocabulary, but I’ve been in show business most of my life, so I know their definitions.”

The captain swallowed hard and shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Polly was shocked. “You’ll let a killer go free? I’m practically handing the murderer to you on a silver platter and you’re ignoring it? If you look at the fingerprints on the DVD used in the killing of Laura Crawford, and match them against Mr. Deerfield’s, I’m certain you’ll find that they’re the same.”

“That’s a job for Homeland Security when we reach Juneau,” Captain Sheridan said. “In the meantime, I cannot slander a passenger with allegations. You have nothing substantive!”

It wasn’t often that Polly Pepper publicly displayed any other side of her personality than what fans expected: sweet,
down-to-earth, and lovable. However, this time her façade cracked. She looked the captain straight in the eyes, placed the palms of her hands on the table, and leaned her weight into her arms. “I’m not used to anyone saying
no
to me. I’ve been a star since you were playing with boats in the bathtub. When I want something, I get it. And I want you to arrest Lawrence Deerfield for the heinous crime of murdering my friend, Laura Crawford. I don’t want excuses. I want action. And I want it now!”

Captain Sheridan stood up to his full height of six feet four inches. He towered over Polly. “Would you like to be confined to your stateroom for the duration of this voyage? That’s easily arranged. If I hear one more unsubstantiated accusation about one of my crew or passengers, I will have zero hesitation about posting a guard outside your door twenty-four-seven.”

Polly backed down. “I know my rights. Freedom of speech being one of them.”

“You’re in international waters, Miss Pepper,” the captain said. “I make the laws on this ship.”

Polly switched back to Polly Pepper mode and said, “Shall I see you at the captain’s table for dinner one night?”

Polly and company were escorted not only back to the elevator, but to their respective staterooms. After a half hour of pacing her own cabin and trying to decide her next move, Polly called Tim and Placenta and instructed them to meet her in the casino. When they were all together, Polly sought out Michelle, the cocktail waitress.

“Honey,” she said when Michelle came into view, “I need a teensy favor.”

“Anything for you, Ms. Pepper.” Michelle smiled.

“You were such a help the other night when you summoned those two fans of mine to the lounge. Would you do that again? This time, if you would make an announcement that the legendary Polly Pepper is hosting a ‘Who
Murdered Laura Crawford?’ party in the atrium in five minutes, and the entire shipload of passengers and crew is invited, I’d appreciate it so much.”

“You’ve caught the killer?” Michelle asked with excitement in her eyes.

“I will as soon as you make the announcement.”

“Right away!”

Tim and Placenta were both feeling more than a little trepidation at what Polly was about to do. But Polly wouldn’t place her own reputation and integrity in jeopardy by making a false accusation. They figured she must know something that they didn’t quite realize yet. They both shrugged in resignation and followed Polly to the atrium.

Soon, Polly, Tim, and Placenta heard the announcement calling for everyone aboard the ship to visit the atrium for a once-in-a-lifetime program featuring the iconic Polly Pepper as she announced who killed her former costar. As crowds gathered, Placenta looked at Lawrence who had stopped playing the piano. “What’s up?” he asked. “Does Polly really know who murdered Laura Crawford?”