Chapter 14
The announcement came over the intercom about Allie Monroe’s untimely death while the croppers were at an evening session on card making. There was no mention of murder.
“They said it was an accident,” Vera said. “Didn’t they tell us she was poisoned?”
The woman who was behind Vera at the next table over twisted her head and looked at her. She was also getting the evil eye from Sheila.
Eric put his arm around Vera and whispered into her ear. She nodded.
Even though “murder” and “poison” weren’t mentioned in the announcement, it still sent a hushed chill over the room as the crafters folded their card stock and sought out stamps and stickers, buttons, and other embellishments. Christmas music played softly in the background. Lights twinkled as the sun began to set.
“I’ll be meeting Theresa soon and I really wish I had my scrapbook. I don’t understand why they are insisting on keeping it,” Sheila said. “My scrapbook didn’t kill her.”
“Do you have the photos?” Vera asked.
“I do,” Sheila said. “But it’s not the same thing as having the scrapbook to show.”
She placed a paper daisy in the center of her card and held it up to eyeball it. “I really like making cards. I’ve often thought of starting my own line. I’m not good at the words part though.”
“You and Annie should go into business. She writes beautiful poetry sometimes,” Paige said.
“Really? I had no idea,” said Vera.
“Yep. She says she doesn’t write it much anymore. But I saw one of her poems in a literary journal. How many Annie Chamovitzes can there be? So I asked her about it,” Paige said.
“How about that?” Sheila said.
The room was filled with low murmurs, laughter, and the sound of cutting boards and scissors.
“I’ve been thinking,” Paige said. “Why don’t we see if Allie’s room is open? We could go in there and get the scrapbook and nobody would know. She’s got to have tons of scrapbooks in her room, right?”
“Now, that’s an idea,” Sheila said, grinning. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Eric said. “That’s a crime scene. You shouldn’t be there.”
“Eric’s right,” Vera said. “Just stay here and have fun. Your scrapbook will be fine.”
“It couldn’t hurt to look,” Randy said, after a few moments. “The door’s probably locked anyway.”
“Let’s go,” Paige said. “If the door is locked, there’s nothing we can do, right?”
“But if it’s unlocked, I’ll slip in and get my scrapbook,” Sheila said.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Vera repeated.
“Nobody asked your permission,” Sheila said with a bit of a bite to her voice.
Vera flung her arms out. “Fine. I’ll stay here and finish my card with Eric.”
“Whatever suits you,” Paige said. “We’ll be right back.”
The three of them left their crafting behind and stole away into the hallways of the cruise ship.
“Do you know where the room is?” Randy asked.
“Yes, we were there this morning. No worries,” Paige said. “We know where we’re going.”
The three of them walked through the gray, snaking corridors until they arrived at the right room. Sheila reached out for the doorknob.
“Wait!” Randy said. “Use this.” He handed her a handkerchief. “Better to be safe.” His eyes sparkled with excitement. Sheila was happy for it; he’d been so sad lately.
“Smart,” Sheila said, reaching for the linen cloth. “That’s my boy,” she said. Then she froze and listened. “Hold on. I hear voices.”
Randy leaned nonchalantly against the wall and Paige pretended to be passing by. Sheila just stood there, eyes wide.
The group of people passed through the hallway.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” Sheila said. Her heart was racing and her palms were sweaty. What if they got caught?
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re here now,” Paige said. Her blue eyes were lit with excitement.
Sheila knew there was no turning back. She hoped the door was open and she hoped her scrapbook was easily found.
She wrapped the doorknob with the cloth and twisted. The door came open.
“Isn’t that something?” Paige said. “Anybody could come in here and steal her things.” Indignant. As if that’s not exactly what they were doing.
Sheila stepped into the pitch black room, surprised that Allie didn’t have more luxurious quarters with windows. She took her handkerchief and used it to flip on the lights.
What she saw made her gasp. Paige and Randy clung to each side of her.
“This is freaky,” Randy said.
The room was completely empty. The bed was perfectly made. It smelled of disinfectant. It was one clean room. No suitcases, clothes, and certainly no scrapbooks.
“What are you doing here?” a male voice said from behind them.
It was Matthew Kirtley, with his dreadlocks and beautiful white teeth.
“I thought I might come in and find my scrapbook,” Sheila said, her voice quivering.
“Look, lady, I told you we’d get the scrapbook to you,” he said, his hands on his hips.
“I don’t have very much confidence in that,” Sheila said. “Sorry. That book means a lot to me.”
“I can see that, but you can’t go off to find it on your own. You’ll need to trust me on this,” he said.
“Trust you?” Paige said. “This is Allie’s room, right?” She gestured, as if to say, What the heck is going on here?
“Yes,” he said after a moment. He cleared his throat. “But by the time we got here the room had been cleaned out completely, unfortunately.”
“So when we were here earlier—”
“Yes, I’m sorry, but we really couldn’t tell you there was nothing in the room,” he said.
“So when you tell me you’ll get my scrapbook back to me—”
“It’s missing,” he said. “But we’re on a ship. It’s here somewhere. And we will find it along with the rest of her things.”
Sheila noted his weariness. Dark circles under his eyes and a raspy voice led her to believe the man had not been sleeping.
“I’m so sorry,” Randy said. “We really shouldn’t be here. Ms. Rogers has a meeting tonight and wanted her scrapbook for it.”
Matthew glanced at Randy and smiled a weary smile. “I understand. But now that you know, can we keep this to ourselves? And try to stay out of trouble?” He cocked an eyebrow at Randy.
Randy made a sound almost like a laugh. “Well, that’s no fun, chief.”
There was brief eyeball exchange between the security chief and Randy. Sheila was not certain, but she thought Randy was flirting with the chief of security. A blush creeped onto Randy’s face.
She shrugged. She wasn’t certain about much these days, but she was beginning to come to terms with the fact that she’d probably never see that scrapbook again.
“Are you okay?” Paige’s arm went around her.
“I think so,” Sheila said. “I think I’m giving up on that scrapbook. Maybe I’ll make a new one based on what I remember.”
“It’s a shame,” Paige said, looking at the chief, still eyeing her son.
“Let’s go, Randy,” she said, reaching for his arm. “Let’s finish our cards and get ready for dinner.”