Murder of a Needled Knitter (6 page)

May ignored her husband, trailing her fingers on the sofa's rich upholstery. She paused to caress the smooth marble and glass coffee table, then strolled into the bathroom.

“I'm surprised Mom hasn't laid into Dad for letting Guinevere kiss him.” Skye shook her head, then added, “But I bet she does once she gets him alone.”

“That woman kissed Jed?” Wally stopped in midstride, halfway to the wet bar. “Right in front of his wife?”

“I think goading Mom may have been the whole reason she was flirting with Dad in the first place.” With her parents out of the room, Skye hurriedly told him and the Fraynes what her mother had revealed about Guinevere, then outlined the security officer's response to May's fight with the group leader.

“Seriously?” Trixie flopped into an armchair after accepting the glass of wine that Wally offered her. “Guinevere was hitting on your dad?” She ran her hands through her hair, making the short brown strands stand up like quills on a porcupine. “No offense, but why? Jed's not particularly young or handsome or rich or sophisticated or—”

“We get it, Trix,” Owen said, cutting off his wife and accepting a bottle of beer from Wally.

“No offense taken,” Skye assured her friend. She refused the can of Diet Coke Wally held up. “That's what Mom said, and believe me, I can't quite picture the kiss either, but Officer Trencher didn't seem all that shocked.” Skye joined Wally who had just taken a seat on the sofa. “Of course, people in law enforcement often have a really good poker face.” She nudged her husband. “Like you.”

“What do you mean?” Wally put his arm around Skye. “You can read me like a book.”

“A book written in Latin, converted into code, and locked in a vault.” Skye wrinkled her nose, then asked, “Do you think Guinevere has gotten into these situations on previous cruises?”

“Possibly, since Officer Trencher was so willing to sweep the incident under the rug,” Wally said. “From my brief research on the Internet, the security chief's
statement that the cruise line's policy is to avoid any possibility of lawsuits seems to be correct.” He tapped his chin. “But her saying that a lot of people wanted to do to Guinevere what May did is the really interesting part.”

“Good point.” Owen shed his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and unfastened the top button of his shirt. “But if this Stallings broad is such a troublemaker, why does the cruise line keep hiring her?”

“I know.” Skye raised her hand. “Earlier tonight while Wally and I were at the Coronet Brasserie, I overheard her saying that she was a last-minute substitute for a woman named Pearl.”

“That's right.” Wally squeezed Skye's shoulder. “I wasn't paying as much attention, but now that you mention it, she did say that.”

“I wonder—” Trixie started to speak, then cut herself off as Jed walked back into the room from the balcony.

“You got yourself quite a view out there.” He had removed his suit coat and his tie was stuffed in his pants pocket. “And being aft, no wind.” Jed was only a few inches taller than his daughter's five-foot-seven frame, and his perpetual tan, graying crew cut, and worked-roughened hands made him the image of a Midwest farmer. His brown eyes crinkled in his weathered face when he smiled and said, “One thing would make it perfect—a keg of Budweiser.”

Before anyone could respond to Jed, May came out of the bathroom and said, “Wooee, everything's real fancy in here.” She clasped her hands to her chest. “All of us could fit in that shower, and the tub is a Jacuzzi.”

“Mom.” Skye decided it was time to take charge before May got it in her head to move in with them. “We need to discuss what happened tonight.”

“It's over.” May puckered her mouth, and like the cheerleader she'd once been, tossed her head. Now that she wore her salt-and-pepper hair short, the gesture wasn't as effective as it would have been when she was
a teenager and sported the long black ponytail Skye remembered from her mother's high school photos. “And I don't want to talk about it anymore.” May put her hands on her hips and scowled.

“But—” When Skye tried to regain control of the situation, her mother stamped her foot.

“It. Is. Over. My life is not turning into a country song.” May lasered a stare at her daughter, smoothed the skirt of her green chiffon dress, and drew herself up to her full height of five-foot-two. “I'm not one of your students who has to be counseled and guided to do the right thing.”

“Fine,” Skye huffed. “In that case, I'm sure we're all tired.”

Trixie and Owen rose to their feet and said good night. Then, over May's protests, Skye and Wally walked her parents to their cabin. Skye was determined to see that her folks didn't stop off for a nightcap at any of the many bars along the way. She'd had about as much drama as she could take for the evening and didn't want to receive a call from Officer Trencher telling her that her mom and dad were in custody.

As Skye and Wally made their way back to their suite, she said, “I'm just glad the drink incident turned out okay and we don't have to think about it for the rest of the cruise.” She snuggled against her husband's side. “Worrying about my mother being carted off to the brig isn't how I want to spend my honeymoon.”

“Me either, darlin'.” Wally kissed her forehead. “Me either.”

While Wally got out of his tux, Skye toyed with the cute elephant made out of rolled-up towels that the steward had left on their turned-down bed and said, “The problem with Mom and Guinevere isn't really solved, is it?”

“Probably not.” Wally stood in the bathroom doorway wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs riding low on his hips. “May is too full of piss and vinegar to
let anything go, and she holds a grudge like it was superglued to her fingers.” Wally blew out a breath. “From the little bit I've seen of that Stallings woman, she doesn't back down, either.”

“Shoot!” Skye forced her gaze away from her new husband's naked chest and said, “At least I know for a dead certain fact, Dad will avoid Guinevere to the point of jumping overboard before he'll let her touch him again.” Skye chuckled at the image of the group leader running after Jed, and him vaulting over the ship's railing.

“I sure wouldn't want to be your father tonight.” Wally crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the doorframe. “When we left your folks in their cabin, May was already laying into Jed for being so chatty with Guinevere when he hardly ever says two words to anyone else.” Wally grimaced. “I was glad we were out of earshot before your mother got to the part about allowing that woman to kiss him. I bet May really read him the riot act about that.”

“Yeah, Mom obviously didn't want to fight with Dad in front of Trixie and Owen, but I guess she didn't care if we heard her yelling at him.” Skye played with the sunglasses that had been perched on the towel elephant's trunk. “Even if my father steers clear of Guinevere, and I'm sure he will, Mom'll be with that dragon lady for a good part of every day.” Skye bit her lip. “Which is so not a good situation.”

“It's not an ideal state of affairs,” Wally agreed, then stepped back into the bathroom.

Skye raised her voice over the running water. “The only saving grace is that what we heard from the other knitters this afternoon suggests that Guinevere rubs a lot of them the wrong way.” Skye wiggled out of her dress. “Several of the women were complaining about her.”

“Any chance May will avoid the knitting group's activities?”

“About as much as our winning the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes.” Skye put on her nightgown, then joined Wally in the bathroom and watched him finish brushing his teeth. Once he had wiped his mouth on a towel, she nudged him out of the way and washed her face. “Mom paid her fee and she'll want to get her money's worth.”

“That's what I thought.” Wally slumped against the wall. “I don't suppose I can convince you that your mother isn't our problem. She's a big girl and doesn't need you to take care of her.”

“I know you're right.” Skye rubbed moisturizer on her face. “But . . .”

“But that's not who you are.” Wally straightened, wrapped her in his arms, and leaned his forehead against hers. “You feel responsible for everyone, especially your family.” He kissed her cheek. “And that's a part of the woman I fell in love with, so I'm not complaining.”

“You're the best.” Skye took his hand and led him out of the bathroom and toward the bed. “I promise not to obsess, but I do think it would be a good idea to check in on Mom tomorrow. Since we'll be at sea all day, I bet there will be a lot of knitting activities scheduled, and she'll be exposed to Guinevere for hours on end.”

“No doubt.” Wally skimmed Skye's nightgown over her head and nuzzled her neck. “As long as you don't feel the need to supervise her twenty-four/seven, I'm cool with you doing what you feel you need to do.”

“You're not only the best”—Skye pulled down Wally's boxer briefs and he kicked them aside—“you're the super best.” She tugged him until they both dropped onto the mattress.

“I bet you say that to all your husbands.” Wally began to take his kisses southward.

“Nope.” Skye groaned as he hit a particularly erogenous spot. “Just the ones I really love.”

Dead in the Water

T
uesday, their first full day at sea, dawned clear and bright. Skye had woken early and slipped out of bed, leaving Wally still asleep. Now she stood on their balcony and peered over the rail. The water was a deep indigo and the white-capped swells looked like lace on the ocean's satin surface.

It was hard for Skye to believe she was here, married to the man of her dreams and starting a new life. She kept expecting to wake up and find herself still twenty-nine and living in New Orleans—broke, jilted, and out of a job. A lot had happened in the six years since she'd returned to Scumble River, but even now she could remember the feeling of desperation as she had dragged herself home in utter defeat. It had truly been her lowest point, and she'd been sure that she'd blown her chance for happiness.

Back then, all she'd wanted was to build up her résumé, fix her credit rating, and heal her broken heart. Once she'd accomplished those goals, she planned to put her small-town roots in her rearview mirror, and revisit them only on the occasional Christmas or Thanksgiving.

Skye smiled, tasting the salt spray on her lips. She'd been such a fool. Happiness hadn't been a thousand miles away; it had been waiting for her in her own backyard. She'd thought there could be no future for her in a town with a population hovering at the three thousand mark. She'd thought she had to live in the big city to find excitement. She'd thought the only way to be all she could be was to travel to far-off places. Thankfully, God had led her back to the right path and luckily, for once she'd listened to Him.

If there was one thing she'd learned from the experience, it was to be glad every prayer wasn't answered with a yes. She was grateful that she had finally figured out that it's not where you live, but the people you live with that counts.

Her reverie was broken when she felt the deck under her feet tilt and she had to grab the railing to keep her balance. The ship must be picking up speed. The sun was higher on the horizon and it was time to kiss her new husband good morning and start their day.

With one final glance at the endless blue sea, Skye went inside, jumped on the bed, and said, “Wake up, sweetheart.”

“I can't.” Wally didn't open his eyes. “I'm dead. Leave flowers.”

“Sorry if I kept you up too late last night.” Skye brushed the hair from his eyes. Wally was normally an early riser, but they hadn't gotten to sleep until after two. “Come on, honey. I'm starving.”

Wally growled softly, then grabbed her and pulled her onto his chest. His hands tunneled into her hair and angled her mouth for his kiss, making her forget her growling stomach.

It was quite a while before she and Wally got around to ordering room service. Skye wasn't unhappy with the delay. Being a glass half-full kind of gal, she figured that in the interim she'd burned enough calories to splurge on Belgian waffles and whipped cream.

As they finished their breakfast, Wally looked up from his perusal of Tuesday's
Diamond Dialogue
and said, “There's a presentation about the shore excursions for St. Maarten in the theater at nine.”

“It might be a good idea to go to that.” Skye took one last sip of her coffee and put down the cup. “What time is it now?”

Wally checked his watch. “Eight forty.” He got up and pulled Skye from her chair. “If you don't mess around with your hair or put on makeup, which you don't need, we can get there with a few minutes to spare.”

Skye appreciated that Wally loved her as she was, but there was no way she was going out in public without a little cosmetic enhancement. With the seconds ticking down, she ran to the closet, threw on tan shorts and a black-and-beige-print top, and slid her feet into flip-flops. “We probably should decide which tours we want to take before they fill up. I hear the good ones go fast.”

“Uh-huh,” Wally agreed distractedly as he searched for his sandals. He'd already put on a pair of cutoffs and a navy T-shirt with S
CUMBLE
R
IVER
P
OLICE
S
OFTBALL
L
EAGUE
printed in red across the front.

After sweeping her hair into a loose twist on top of her head, applying a little concealer under her eyes, and brushing on a few strokes of mascara, Skye picked up her purse and met Wally at the cabin door.

Grabbing Skye's hand, Wally led her at a jog through the maze of corridors. Their suite was located at the very back of the ship, so it was a long walk to the theater, which was all the way in the bow. By the time they arrived, Skye was panting and the speaker was testing the microphone.

They walked down the aisle looking for empty seats until Trixie popped up from a row near the stage and motioned for them to join her and Owen. After exchanging quiet hellos, the two couples settled in to listen to the lecture.

The shore excursion manager gave a brief overview of St. Maarten, and then for nearly half an hour she highlighted all the ship-approved stores. Finally, with only fifteen minutes left, she went over the available tours. For the adventurous, there were riding Segways along the waterfront boardwalk, participating in a yacht race, scuba diving, and snorkeling. The more sedate could choose sightseeing buses or sunbathing on a quiet beach.

After the presentation, Wally, Skye, and the Fraynes discussed their preferences. Skye's choice, visiting the St. Maarten Park and Zoo, was outvoted when Trixie joined the men in lobbying for the Rhino Rider Boat Adventure, which consisted of driving a two-person inflatable motorboat, a beach stop, and snorkeling.

The idea of being in the middle of the ocean on what was really no more than a rubber raft scared Skye, but Wally said, “Besides being fun, this excursion has an added advantage that I'm sure you'll agree is worth considering.”

“Oh?” Skye tilted her head, thought about it for a second, then grinned. “Because no way will my parents decide to take it?”

“Right in one.” Wally tapped Skye's nose. “Your mom would never do something that might mess up her hair. So how about it?” he coaxed.

“Let's give it a whirl.” Skye rose to her feet and tugged Wally up. “The shore tour manager said that capacity is extremely limited so we'd better go book it now.”

Trixie glanced at her watch and stood. “Bingo starts in ten minutes and it's at the other end of the ship.” She looked at Skye with big puppy dog eyes. “Owen doesn't want to play, so he can turn in both our reservation sheets. Will you two come with me? I was so close to winning the big cover-all prize yesterday. I only needed one number and I would have won over a thousand dollars.”

Skye hesitated. Bingo sounded fun, but she knew Wally wouldn't enjoy it. Still, they'd been together for
three solid days. Maybe a tiny break wouldn't be a bad thing. And it would be great if Wally and Owen bonded on this trip. She really wanted the men to become as good friends as she and Trixie were.

Evidently Wally read her mind because he said, “I'll go with Owen and we can meet you girls at noon for lunch.” He kissed Skye on the cheek. “Shall we try the buffet or go to the formal dining room?”

“Buffet,” Trixie and Skye answered in unison. Skye added, “I can't take three courses after that big breakfast. All I want is a salad.”

“Not me.” Trixie looped her arm through Skye's and towed her toward the exit, saying over her shoulder, “I'm going to have some of everything.”

Skye had long since forgiven her friend for being able to eat like a linebacker and never gain an ounce, but she let out a sigh. Between the holiday parties and all the food on this cruise, she was afraid the pretty new clothes she'd bought for her honeymoon would be too tight before she had a chance to wear them.

Bingo was held in the Club Creation, a lounge located at the rear of the ship. Trixie raced down the promenade deck with Skye hurrying to keep up. As they passed the passenger service desk, Skye said, “I need to stop here for a schedule of the knitter's activities. I'll meet you at bingo. Save me a chair.”

Once Skye finished at passenger services, she jogged to the entrance of Club Creation, where she stood in a long line to buy her bingo cards. Inside, she scanned the crowded lounge until she saw Trixie on the balcony, sitting at a bar that overlooked the main floor.

Skye joined her friend, then arranged her equipment on the counter in front of her. She had purchased a bright pink dauber and Trixie had opted for neon green. Both had bought a book of five different colored pages with three cards printed on each sheet. After each game the used cards would be discarded.

As the host called out numbers and Skye blotted out
the ones on her cards, she did a little mental math. At least three hundred people were playing, at twenty bucks for one set of cards, and several people had bought two or three sets; that was six thousand smackers. The prizes ranged from a hundred to a hundred and fifty dollars; times four games, that was less than six hundred. The cover-all, at the end of the session, was only a grand, which meant the cruise line made over four thousand per day on bingo.

True, the last day at sea, the final game had a purse of five thousand dollars. But a player had to cover his or her entire card within a certain number of calls. What were the odds of anyone actually winning the big money?

They were on the last game of the session when Trixie said, “You can call me butter because I'm on a roll now. I only need two more numbers.”

Before Skye could respond, a dishwater blonde at the table directly below them stood and screamed, “Bingo!”

Trixie gripped Skye's knee and whispered in her ear, “I think she's cheating.”

“How can you cheat at bingo?”

“I haven't figured it out yet, but that guy sitting with her won the two biggest pots yesterday and now she's won the big one today.” Trixie narrowed her eyes. “No one is that lucky.”

“She must be.” Skye loosened Trixie's fingers from her leg. “Don't you love her accent?”

Trixie muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Damn Brits,” then glared at the couple who had settled back in their booth and were ordering a celebratory drink.

Skye shook her head, stood, and changed the subject. “We have fifteen minutes until we need to meet the guys for lunch. Would you mind going with me to check on Mom?”

“Not at all.” Trixie joined Skye as they shuffled along
with the rest of the crowd toward the exit. “Do you know where she is?”

“Yes. Remember I picked up the knitting group's schedule at the passenger service desk on our way here. They're meeting in Cloud Walkers Nightclub from ten until noon today.” Skye studied her pocket-sized trifold map of the ship. “It's right above us, on the top deck.”

“The elevators are over here.” When they emerged from Club Creation, Trixie pointed to their left. “Or we could take the stairs.”

“Ten flights?” Skye shook her head. “I can do three, four in a pinch, but not ten.” She pushed the
UP
button and kept an eye on the indicators above the three widely spaced elevators. It was like a game of roulette to guess which set of doors would open first.

Trixie repeated her complaints about the bingo winner cheating as they rode to the seventeenth floor, but she quieted when they approached Cloud Walkers. A shiver ran down Skye's spine and she glanced at her friend. Was it the overly air-conditioned temperature or was she picking up a weird vibe? The lower decks were full of people, bright lights, and noise. Up here, the hall was dim, deserted, and the only sound was their own breathing.

A freestanding pedestal sign that read P
RIVATE
F
UNCTION
,
positioned in front of the nightclub's closed frosted-glass doors, made Skye hesitate, and she said in a low voice, “Maybe we shouldn't bother them.”

“We're here.” Trixie grabbed the chrome handle. “We might as well take a peek.”

“I guess so.” For some reason, Skye didn't want to go inside.

“We'll be quiet.” Trixie pushed the door and it swung noiselessly open.

They entered an empty vestibule and Skye whispered, “I guess they broke up early.” She walked down
three steps into a larger open area. “I don't hear anyone talking.”

Along the front wall was a bar lit by neon stars and swirls, and in the rear were floor-to-ceiling windows. The place was divided into two distinct spaces separated by opaque panels.

“I don't think anyone's here,” Trixie said in a hushed voice.

“Yeah,” Skye agreed. “Either they changed locations or they already finished their activity.” She took another look around. “Let's go.”

“Okay.” Trixie turned back toward the entrance, then froze. “What was that?”

“It sounded like a thud and then glass breaking.” Skye tilted her head. “Someone might have fallen.” She called out, “Is everything okay?”

Silence.

“It came from over here.” Trixie gestured to a partitioned-off area to their left, then dashed off.

“Wait!” Skye yelled. “We should stay together.”

A door slammed shut. Then a split second later, Trixie screamed. Skye ran around a circular booth and saw her friend standing at the far end of the space behind a seating arrangement that consisted of two chairs on either side of an occasional table. Trixie had one hand over her mouth and she was pointing to a spot a couple of feet in front of her.

Skye skidded to a stop next to Trixie and looked down. There, sprawled on the floor next to an overturned table lamp with miniature cloud-shapes cut out of the brass shade, was Guinevere Stallings. Sticking out of the group leader's throat was a pair of knitting needles.