Set Sail for Murder (13 page)

“She thinks so. But I can’t believe it and sincerely hope it’s not true.”

“I guess we’ll all sleep better tonight knowing that the killer has been caught,” Lawrence said with a bit of unease in his voice. “Although I wasn’t expecting to sleep.” He chuckled seductively.

When the atrium was filled to capacity, Polly climbed up to the platform stage and pulled the microphone out from its stand on Lawrence’s piano. She offered her perfect movie star smile and welcomed her fellow passengers, all of whom she said she hoped to become intimately acquainted with during the remainder of the cruise.

“As you all know, my dear friend Laura Crawford was brutally attacked and murdered on our first day at sea,” Polly began. “I couldn’t let her killer go free. I simply had to find the person who did this terrible thing to her.” Polly
looked up and saw that Captain Sheridan had joined the group with a team of ship security personnel.

“It gives me no pleasure to make this announcement, because the killer is someone we all know and admire. His talent is delicious. He seems so adorable and sweet on the outside….”

“It must be Cori Berman,” a voice called from the crowd. It was Cori himself who made the announcement.

Polly regrouped. “That would be nice and easy, but a little too obvious. No, the person who killed Laura is …”

The atrium began buzzing during her pause. “Who is she talking about? Is this another game created by the cruise director?”

At last, Polly turned and looked directly at Lawrence. “It’s this man!” She pointed. “Lawrence Deerfield. Our wonderful piano player!”

Lawrence laughed at Polly’s joke.

But as a wave of incredulity swept through the crowd, and Polly became stone-faced, he started to feel uneasy.

“What are you talking about?” Lawrence demanded. “I’m not a killer. I’m a piano player.”

“And you do that so well, dear,” Polly said. “But facts are facts.”

“What facts? I had nothing to do with Laura Crawford’s murder,” Lawrence said. “I swear! This is stupid. Ridiculous! I must have an alibi, or something.”

Polly motioned for the crowd to calm down. “We’ve all heard that Laura was murdered with a DVD disc copy of my famous television musical/comedy variety show, which was in the top ten for the entire twelve years that we aired and garnered twelve Emmy Awards for me, and a buncha other fun commendations. Specifically, Laura was killed with disc number six.”

Polly picked up Lawrence’s boxed set of DVDs. “Please drop by the All Bound Up bookstore on the main deck, and purchase your very own set,” she said to the crowd, as
if hawking cubic zirconia on QVC. “I see that the captain has joined us,” Polly announced. “Let’s give him a loud and warm welcome and call him up here to inspect this box, which came directly from Lawrence Deerfield’s cabin.”

“What were you doing in my cabin?” Lawrence said. He looked at Placenta, who avoided his eye contact.

The captain made his way through the crowd and ascended the six steps to the piano platform. He gave Polly an intolerant look. She responded with an even larger smile. “Captain, dear, would you please open this box and tell us what you find … and don’t find?”

Begrudgingly, Captain Sheridan picked up the box and carefully emptied the contents on top of the piano. He looked at each disc case. One by one he inspected them and held them up for the passengers to see.

“Open the jewel case, dear,” Polly encouraged.

When Captain Sheridan opened the first plastic case, he also took out the disc. He continued to the second jewel case. And then the third. Each disc was accounted for. When he arrived at the plastic case for disc #6, he slowly opened it, looked at Polly, then at Lawrence and then held it high above his head.

Instantly, a massive roar of “Oooooh” swept through the atrium. “Empty,” he said, and looked at Lawrence again.

Lawrence was in shock. “No!” he yelled. “It’s got to be there! I didn’t even know Laura Crawford! Why would I kill her?”

Polly spoke into the mic again. “But you did know her, Sweetums. She fired you from a production of
Follies
last season. Remember? And you hated her guts and wanted her dead, and so you killed her.”

“Sure she was a shrew, but I got this gig almost right away. I didn’t hold a grudge!” pleaded Lawrence.

“Then what about this voodoo doll we found in your stateroom?” Polly held up Dick Cheney for the crowd to see. They offered the same response of incredulity as they
had for the missing disc. “All the pins are in Dick’s neck, or should I say, Laura’s neck? You even pinned her name to the doll!” Polly pulled the small bit of paper from the pin and read, “‘L.C.!’ Laura Crawford!”

The captain looked at Polly, and then looked at the crowd, which was suddenly out for blood. He nodded toward Deerfield and instantly four crew members in white uniforms and black epaulettes ascended the stage and took a flailing Lawrence Deerfield into custody.

Polly took a long bow and received thunderous applause from the other passengers. When she’d had enough of the ovation, Polly waved to her admirers and brought the mic to her lips. “I simply couldn’t let my dear Laura die without finding her killer. I’d do the same for all of you! We’re family!”

“You’re the only sleuth I’d want investigating my murder,” a voice from the crowd called.

Polly looked out among the throng and saw Cori Berman leaning against a faux marble column with his arms folded across his chest. “Dear Cori,” she said, “I’d be especially happy to look for your killer.”

Cori laughed with the crowd. “I’ve made so many showbiz enemies, you just might have that opportunity. But not on this ship of has-beens, please!”

Polly graciously, but facetiously applauded Cori. “Enemies? In Hollywood? Oh no, dear. That’s impossible. You’d have to
work
in Hollywood to make enemies there. Your last show was over a quarter century ago.”

“So was yours!”

The crowd erupted in laughter, and Polly saw that even Cori was nodding and laughing at his own expense.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Cori called from the edge of the crowd.

“The minutes fly by, don’t they?” Polly retorted and waved good-bye to the crowd. Tim and Placenta both took her hands and guided her down the steps from the platform to
the deck. “I’m parched,” Polly said. “It’s time to hit the Mermaid Lounge! There’s a magnum with my name on it!

Placenta looked forlorn. Polly reached out for her hand. “I’m terribly sorry about your stinky love life. I sincerely wish that Lawrence hadn’t been a killer. But now you can get on with finding Mr. Right.”

Placenta halfheartedly agreed. “I suppose it’s better I found out this way, instead of getting the same treatment from Lawrence. I’ll be fine once we get back to Bel Air.”

As the trio sipped the last of their champagne, a well-dressed crew member in white uniform entered the lounge and looked around for Polly. Upon spotting her, he approached the table. “Miss Pepper?”

Polly cast her sleepy eyes upon the handsome young sailor. “Naturally,” she responded.

“Captain Sheridan has sent me to escort you to Lawrence Deerfield’s cabin. Follow me.”

“Lovely,” Polly said, taking the sailor’s hand and standing unsteadily. Tim and Placenta took over and held Polly’s arms as they followed the leader down the corridor. “A medal for bravery,” Polly sang, and did a little soft shoe. “At the very least, a commendation scroll. Suitable for framing! I’ll try to act as humble as possible.”

The quartet entered the elevator and dropped to the main deck. From there, they found another elevator that was hidden from the one used by the general passenger population. Down they went three more levels until the seaman held the door for Polly and her clan to exit.

“Looks familiar,” Polly said with a grin. When they arrived at Lawrence Deerfield’s cabin, the seaman knocked once on the door, opened it for Polly, then stepped aside.

The room was as it had been when they visited earlier in the day, minus the boxed set of DVDs, the voodoo doll, and the theater program. Now there was the addition of
the stern-looking Captain Sheridan standing straight and steely. Suddenly, Polly wasn’t feeling so giddy. She reached out to take Tim’s and Placenta’s hands.

Captain Sheridan was silent as he appraised Polly. He saw a woman of middle age, her hair colored an indecipherable shade of rust, her nose and chin sculpted by Beverly Hills’ most experienced surgeons, and a look of fear across her face. He looked away from Polly for a moment, picked up the remote control for the television, then handed it to Polly. “Turn on the damn machine,” he said curtly.

“I’m not so great at working these gadgets,” Polly chuckled.

Captain Sheridan bellowed. “Turn it on!”

Polly’s body began to shake as she looked for the On button. Tim pointed to the power source, and Polly pressed the small bump on the remote. Suddenly, she saw herself on the screen. It was one of her finest comedy sketches. Then Laura Crawford came into view. Polly, Tim, and Placenta looked at the screen, then each other, then at Captain Sheridan.

“Very funny stuff. Now, eject the disc,” the captain said in an angry tone. “Now!”

Again Tim showed his mother the correct button. When the tray slid out from the DVD machine, Captain Sheridan instructed, “Take the disc out of the tray.”

Polly did as she was told and looked at the title. She turned ashen.

“Read it aloud, please,” the captain said.

“‘The Polly Pepper Playhouse.’”

“What else does it say?”

“‘Season …’”

The captain was seething. “Season what?”

Polly whispered, “‘Six.’ God, no! What about the voodoo doll and the initials L.C.?”

“Lawrence Casey. His passport was in the drawer. You
should have looked at it. The so-called voodoo doll was nothing more than a pincushion. Seems that Mr. Deerfield, his stage name, alters his own pants to save a buck.”

“But the theater program. And all those horrible things he said about Laura Crawford?”

“There’s a difference between being mad and jotting down a few choice words, and slicing up someone’s throat.”

Polly slumped onto the bed. “I was sure that I had my killer.”

The captain started to leave the cabin. “If I were you, I’d lay low for the rest of the cruise. When the other passengers hear about this, it’s going to be humiliating for you. Oh, and surprisingly, Mr. Deerfield is not pressing charges of slander. He’s a pretty neat guy, if you ask me.”

T
im and Placenta guided Polly back to her stateroom. As they walked down the long corridors to the elevator, Polly wrapped her arm around Tim’s waist for support. When she was finally settled in her cabin, she was still shaking. “I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning. That’s it. My excuse. I’m not responsible for my actions because of sleep deprivation. Tell Arnie and Tommy they’ll have to cancel tonight’s performance. I can’t face an audience.”

As Placenta laid out Polly’s bedclothes, including her bathrobe, slippers and sleep mask, she tsk-tsked about Polly having to also miss her date with Dorian, “or whatever his real name is.”

Polly slipped out of her skirt and blouse and stepped into the robe. “Why would I miss my date? The fans can wait. My social life can’t. We’re not meeting until eleven. And don’t bother accompanying me to the Lotus Lounge. Dorian, er whoever, and I are adults. I can take care of myself.”

Placenta put her hands on her hips. “At least get a plausible explanation for him lying to you.”

“Nobody would lie about being given a first name like Dorian,” Polly said. “Away with both of you. And hang the
PRIVACY, PLEASE
sign on the door. The last thing I need is housekeeping coming in here and making those silly towel animals while I’m trying to recuperate from the most miserable day of my life.”

As Placenta led the way out the door, she called back and said, “Thanks to the iconic Polly Pepper, I’m going to have to work extra-hard tonight to comfort Lawrence and make him feel special. Should be a hoot.”

When Polly was at last alone, she peeled off her undergarments and slipped into her jammies. She pulled back the bedsheets and made herself comfortable. Donning the sleep mask, she settled in for a much-needed nap.

Hours later, Polly awoke and felt along the wall above her head for the light switch. When she pushed the button, she slowly removed her sleep mask to avoid being shocked by the brightness of light. She looked at her wristwatch. It was ten o’clock. Perfect timing. Polly stretched and then made her way to the tiny bathroom to shower and prepare for her evening with Dorian.

Forty-five minutes later, Polly checked her reflection in the mirror on the cabin door. The red hair was casually brushed. Her makeup covered her flaws and accentuated her best features, which, until she’d been able to afford cosmetic surgery, were nil. As always, her smile was her best and most famous physical asset. For this night’s occasion she selected an elegant, royal-purple wrap dress with a dramatic sash tie. The couture slimmed her slightly fuller hips and thighs to stress her still shapely figure. Accessorized with an enamel swirl pendant necklace, she was ready to turn heads. Picking up her red leather clutch, and dropping her key card and lipstick into the pouch, she moved to the door, turned off the lights, and stepped into the corridor.

In a matter of minutes Polly Pepper made a star’s entrance at the Lotus Lounge. She stood elegantly at the hostess’s lectern and was immediately met by a young, shapely woman who couldn’t have looked as stylish as Polly, even if she’d had a makeover by Carson Kressley. “Miss Pepper. We’re delighted to see you … again,” the woman said with a wide fake smile.

“This is my first …”

“I was at your performance this afternoon.”

“I canceled the show.”

“Your earlier recital.”

“Hmm.”

“Mr. Dawson is waiting by the piano.”

Mr. Dawson,
Polly repeated to herself. Polly looked at the piano player. “Where’s Mr. Deerfield this evening?”

“I imagine he’s committing suicide. Please follow me.”

As Polly wended her way through a maze of small tables, the piano music grew louder. From a distance, she could see the elegant man she remembered from the night before sipping champagne. When Polly and the hostess arrived at the table, Dorian instantly stood to greet them. He gave Polly a polite kiss on her cheek. “You look very smart,” Dorian said as he pulled out a chair for Polly to be seated opposite him. “Champagne?”