Murder of a Needled Knitter (3 page)

“Inconsiderate? Hell, Ella Ann, you're way too nice.” Ms. Pink Hat snorted. “Where I come from it's a hangin' offense.”

The other two women laughed their agreement and
Ms. Lime Hat said, “Some people just need to be taught a lesson in the worst way.”

The mob continued to block Skye and Wally's egress to the platform above, and finally Wally cleared his throat. Several seconds went by, and when no one offered to make room for them to pass, he said, “Excuse us. Could you move over? We'd like to get by.”

There was no response. It was almost as if Skye and Wally were invisible.

Wally's mouth tightened and he leaned toward Skye and whispered, “I sure hope this crowd isn't going to be a problem during the whole cruise.”

“Maybe they won't be too bad,” Skye murmured, watching as a beautiful woman in her early forties arrived. She had a camera around her neck, but it didn't obscure the view of the décolletage revealed by her low-cut tank top.

The new arrival ignored the angry mutterings about her tardiness, murmuring, “Birdbrains of a feather sure flock together.” She curled her lips in disgust and began assembling everyone on the steps. When she was satisfied with the arrangement, she handed the large poster she'd been carrying to a woman in front. While the group leader lined up her shot, Skye read the sign. Printed in a nautical blue was the phrase W
ELCOME
U
-
KNITTED
N
ATIONS
.
Centered underneath were the words
D
IAMOND
C
OUNTESS
2007
.

Another flash of apprehension trickled down Skye's vertebrae. This was a knitting group, hence the knitted cowboy hats. Her mom and dad were taking a cruise with May's knitting group. She
had
seen her mother yesterday. Oh. My. God. Her parents were on her honeymoon!

Anchors Aweigh

“I
'm telling you, my mother and father are definitely aboard the
Diamond Countess
,” Skye insisted for the fiftieth time, as she kept her eyes peeled for a glimpse of them.

She'd been repeating this same sentence to Wally every few minutes for the past three hours while they ate a light lunch at the outdoor café and relaxed on their double chaise, enjoying the warm sunshine. The only time she'd stopped was when they were snorkeling off the island's white-sand beach, and she had started up again as soon as her head was above water.

Wally, on the other hand, had been maintaining that there must be more than one knitting cruise that her folks could have taken. But now, as he and Skye stepped onto the tender that would take them back to the cruise liner, he finally admitted, “Even if they are here, it's a big ship.” When the boat suddenly rocked from side to side and Skye nearly fell, he helped her take a seat and added, “There's a good chance we'll never run into them.”

“Seriously?” Skye looked at her new husband and wondered how he could be so clueless. “You've worked
with my mom for how many years? Ten? Twelve? But you still don't really know her, do you?” May was employed as a dispatcher on the police force Wally commanded. “If my mother's on board, and I'm pretty darn sure she is, she planned this whole so-called coincidence, and she has every intention of ‘running into us' as often as possible. For all we know, she and Dad are in a cabin on our deck—or even next door to us.”

“But why?” Wally slid an arm around Skye's shoulders, pulling her against him as the tender shot away from the dock. “May would have to be aware that her showing up on your honeymoon would tick you off.”

“You'd think so, wouldn't you?” Skye felt her stomach do a loop-the-loop and wondered if it was motion sickness. The Sea-Bands she wore around her wrist, which utilized acupressure to control symptoms of nausea, and the Dramamine, a good old-fashioned drug, had kept her feeling fine, but suddenly she thought she might vomit. “Too bad my mother views the world through the distorted Saran Wrap vision of her own reality. Her version of what's real and everyone-else-on-the-planet's version aren't the same.”

“Well . . .” Wally tugged at the neck of his T-shirt as the truth started to sink in.

“Mom changes the facts to suit herself.” Skye blew out an exasperated breath of air. “In her mind, we'll be thrilled she surprised us, happy to see her and Dad, and excited to have them join us at dinner and on shore excursions. I wouldn't be at all shocked to find her in our suite when we get back.”

“May wouldn't really do that.” When the tender struck a wave and Skye slid a few inches away from him, Wally tightened his grip and drew her back to his side. “Jed wouldn't let her.” Wally's protests were getting feebler, and he implored his new wife, “Would she?”

“Yep.” Skye smiled grimly. “You, my darling, are getting your first taste of Mom the Master
Manipulator.” Skye patted his knee. “From the moment she spotted those cruise brochures on your desk, you were her target. When you took the bait and went to the travel agent that she recommended, she had you hooked. Then it was just a matter of allowing you enough line. By telling you how much you could save with the group rate and how much I'd love staying in a suite, she reeled you in like a true pro angler.”

Skye watched the emotions play across Wally's handsome face as he gave in and accepted that what she had been telling him was true. She opened her mouth, but snapped it shut, deciding he needed time to process the implications of their situation.

Wally remained silent as the tender pulled alongside the ship. Climbing the metal gangway to the deck entrance, he started to say something but stopped. As he put their beach bag on the conveyor belt to be X-rayed, he tried again but couldn't seem to get the words past his lips, and instead walked mutely through the security gate.

Once he and Skye were in the elevator, Wally finally managed to form the question he'd been fighting to avoid. “Do you think Trixie and Owen are here, too?”

“Oh, yeah.” Skye pinched the bridge of her nose as they exited onto the Dolphin Deck and headed down the long corridor to their aft suite. “Didn't you realize that when the travel agent said she had a large group going, it meant we might be traveling with half the inhabitants of Scumble River?”

“Son of a buck!” Wally smacked the metal wall next to the suite's entrance and several sheets of paper fell from the diamond-shaped holder affixed there.

Skye picked up the pages, then used her key card to open the door.

“How in blue blazes could I have been so incredibly stupid?” Wally berated himself as he followed her into their cabin, threw the beach bag he'd been carrying on
the floor, and flopped onto the sofa clutching his head. “Why didn't I realize what I was getting us into?”

“Don't be so hard on yourself.” Skye placed flyers advertising the art auction, gift shop specials, and spa treatments on the wet bar near a tray of miniature booze bottles, then joined him on the couch. “Even though you've lived in town for over twenty years, you didn't grow up in Scumble River and you don't have family in the area, so you forget that everyone is either related to everyone else or at least knows someone whose cousin married that person's sister's uncle's daughter.”

“That's no excuse.” Wally leaned back and closed his eyes as Skye rubbed his temples. “The woman at the agency said she had a large group.” He groaned and Skye kept up her massage. “Where did I think the people in the large group were coming from? The moon?”

“Maybe we'll get lucky and most of the others will be from the neighboring communities,” Skye comforted him. “After all, there aren't any other travel agencies in a forty-mile radius. I think the one in Laurel is the next closest, so the Scumble River agency probably pulls from at least half a dozen or so of the towns around us.”

“True.” Wally brightened, then slumped. “But the real problem is your parents and the Fraynes. Most people will just say hi if they see us, but your folks will want to spend time with us.”

“Now you understand the difficulty.” Skye pulled him off the sofa, through the bedroom, and into the enormous marble bathroom. “Trixie and Owen will understand if we tell them we want to be alone, and it might actually be fun to hang out with them once in a while.”

“Yeah.” Wally tugged off his T-shirt. “There are a few excursions that looked good but would be more fun with another couple.”

“Unfortunately, Mom won't be so considerate. She'll want to move in here with us. Or at least spend all her waking hours with me. The terms Helicopter Parent and Velcro Mom were coined just for her.” Skye pressed herself against Wally's chest and ran her fingers through the crisp black hair at his temples. She loved the trace of gray feathered above his ears. “Which means we have to outsmart her.”

“How?” Wally swept Skye's cover-up over her head and threw it behind them, then unhooked the top of her swimsuit.

“Good question.” Skye turned on the water in the huge walk-in shower, then untied the drawstring on his trunks and yanked them down. “But let's think of that after we get rid of the sand. I think I might have brought back half the shore with me. And while I enjoyed the beach, I'm not nearly as thrilled about it in its present location.” She shimmied out of her swimsuit bottoms.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Wally grinned and followed her into the stall. “I bet we'll come up with a great way to avoid your mother once we relieve some tension.” He poured a dollop of body wash into his palm. “You know, take the edge off a little bit.”

“I'm sure we will,” Skye cooed as he ran his soapy hands over her back, then commented with a wicked smile, “It's getting a little steamy in here. We should have turned on the exhaust fan.”

“We don't really need to see anything.” Wally's fingers continued their journey south. “We can just feel our way to paradise.”

•   •   •

“It's a good thing we made dinner reservations for seven thirty. If we'd decided on six thirty, we'd never make it,” Skye commented as she stepped into her black lace dress. “I can't believe how fast the time went after we got back from the island. And I still haven't gotten us
completely unpacked. Maybe yesterday I should have accepted the butler's offer to do it for us.”

“I told you to take advantage of all the amenities.” Wally zipped her up. “But I'll never forget the look on that poor guy's face when you said you didn't want anyone but me handling your underwear.”

Skye giggled. “That popped out before I could stop it.”

“We could always order room service.” Wally stood in front of the closet and frowned into the full-length mirror on the back of the door. “One of the perks of a suite is being able to order from any dining room menu and have the food served on our balcony.”

“I definitely want to do that sometime. It might be fun to try when we sail away from a port or maybe when we're at sea and all the stars are out.” Skye slid on high-heeled silver sandals. “But this is formal night and I can't wait to see everyone dressed up.”

“Oh, yeah,” Wally muttered as he struggled with his bowtie. “We wouldn't want to miss that. I'm sure it's quite a show.”

“Besides, eating this late, we're safe from my mother.” Skye fastened the necklace that Wally had given her as a wedding present and adjusted the two swirling platinum ribbons—one lined with shimmering baguette diamonds, and the other with glittering round diamonds forming an X—to lie at the base of her throat. “No way on Earth will she be able to get Dad to wait past five for his supper.”

“Good point,” Wally conceded. “That's probably why they weren't in the dining room with the knitting group last night.” He put on his jacket. “But if they're a part of that crowd, and you've convinced me that they are, where were they this afternoon on the island? They weren't posing for that picture on the observation tower steps.”

“I've been wondering that myself.” Skye inserted the necklace's matching earrings and screwed on the
backs. It made her a little nervous to wear such valuable jewelry, but Wally had assured her that the pieces were heavily insured. “Do you think Mom and Dad might have missed the ship? They aren't exactly experienced travelers.”

“I suppose it could have happened, if they didn't make their original flight from Midway.” Wally's tone was doubtful. “But your folks are early for everything so I suspect they were at the airport hours before their scheduled departure time.”

“Maybe Loretta went into labor before they left town and they decided to stay home. Wouldn't that be the coolest payback ever? Mom hoisted by her own petard.”

“Son's first baby versus daughter's honeymoon.” Wally handed Skye her black silk evening clutch. “That would be a hard choice for May.”

“And I wouldn't be at all sad if the new little heir to the Denison throne won the coin toss.” Skye made sure she had her cruise pass, which acted as key, identification, and charge card. “But I'm not getting my hopes up because I'm pretty darn sure I saw Mom on Sunday.”

For their New Year's Day dinner, Skye and Wally had selected the Coronet Brasserie. It was one of two specialty restaurants on board the
Diamond Countess
. For a slight additional fee, specialty restaurants offered luxury experiences with upgraded service and cuisine. Wally had assured Skye that the premium aged beef and fresh seafood were supposed to be excellent, and he had waved away her protest about paying extra.

Before stepping inside the restaurant, Wally and Skye used the hand sanitizer dispenser at the entrance. It took a bit away from the glamour of cruising, but norovirus outbreaks were always a threat on a ship this size and the resulting gastroenteritis would be a lot worse than the antiseptic odor of the gel.

Wally told the maître d' his name, and as they were
shown to their table, Skye admired the dining room's rich wood and luxurious fabrics, as well as the beautiful dresses on the other women diners. Only a quarter of the men wore tuxedos, but even those who had opted for dark suits looked nice, all spiffed up in their best bib and tucker.

Once Skye and Wally were settled in their banquette-style booth, and had made the difficult choice of flat or sparkling water, Skye gestured in front of them. “Look, we can see into the kitchen. Isn't that the coolest thing?”

“Hmm,” Wally mumbled around a bite of the warm bread he'd just popped into his mouth. Swallowing, he joked, “Are you getting any cooking pointers?”

“In your dreams,” Skye teased, then bounced in her seat, excited at the new experience. “I've never been in a place where you could watch the chefs prepare the food.”

The sommelier appeared as if by magic next to Wally's elbow. “Would you like to order a bottle of wine? We have a Frescobaldi Castelgiocondo Brunello di Montalcino 2005 that would go well if you're having steak or a Placido Pinot Grigio 2006 if you're thinking of seafood.”

“I'm getting the New York strip. What do you want, sugar?” Wally asked Skye.

“Rack of lamb.”

“Then we'll take the Brunello,” Wally informed the wine steward.

After the sommelier left, Skye resumed her study of the menu. It was hard to choose. For her first course, should she order the tiger prawns with the papaya or the scallops with foie gras? She was debating the shrimp bisque versus the blue cheese onion soup when raised voices coming from the front of the restaurant drew her attention.

Scooting forward, she peered around the booth's high side. Standing at the podium, arguing with the maître d', was the woman who'd been late to take the
knitting group's photo at the observation tower. What had they called her? Oh, yes. Guinevere. And from her attitude and words, she obviously believed that she
was
King Arthur's queen.