Chapter 29
“If I were a single man on a cruise ship and not scrapbooking, where would I be?” Vera said as she leaned back into her lounge chair. It was after lunch and they had all gathered at the pool, each one of them with outrageously expensive fruity alcoholic drinks in their hands.
“You’d think most of them would be scrapbooking. After all, this is a scrapbooking cruise,” Sheila said. “There’s a man I keep seeing everywhere. He seems unattached. He’s been to every activity I’ve been to.”
“The next time you see him, you should find out a bit about him,” Paige said, fixing her floppy hat on her head.
“I most certainly will not,” Sheila said. “I’m here for the scrapbooking, not the sleuthing. The only thing I care about as far as all this is concerned is getting my scrapbook back. I’d like to see them bring the murderer to justice, but that’s not my business.”
“You know, Sheila, you’re right. None of us should be involved, least of all you. You need to focus on making connections for your career. Leave the rest up to us,” Vera said.
“Oh Lord,” Sheila said, and rolled her eyes. “Please leave well enough alone. Would you?”
A beautiful young woman walked by in a white bikini. Eric perked up.
“You know, if I were interested in women on this cruise, I think I’d be right here at the pool—or maybe at one of the lounges,” he said.
“Ya don’t have to ask me twice,” Paige said. “I’m willing to circulate a bit and get out of the sun. I’ve had it. I want to get to the crop around five and I’ve got a couple hours to kill.”
“I’ll come with you,” Randy said.
“No,” she said. “You better stay here. I don’t need my son tagging along while I work my magic.” She winked before taking off down the deck.
Randy sat back in his chair, astonished. “Well, I never!” he mocked.
Vera laughed the loudest. “Stick around, Randy. Your mother is quite a character.”
The ship jiggled around a bit. Vera grabbed on to Eric; the rest of them grabbed on to their chairs. Sheila closed her eyes for a moment. Her head still ached, though the drink seemed to be helping a bit. When she opened her eyes Vera was scanning the crowd.
“What are you looking for?” Sheila asked.
“I’m looking for single men,” Vera said. “I think I found one. The guy over by the diving board. You see him sitting there?”
“Yes,” Sheila said. “What are you going to do?”
“You just watch me,” Vera said.
Sheila watched her old friend walk to the other side of the pool as Eric looked on, horrified. Vera, at the age of forty-four, was still a stunning woman, with her heart-shaped face, big blue eyes, and high cheekbones. As she walked by the man in question, she dropped her bag, with her things scattering everywhere. He rose from his chair to help. The next thing Vera knew, he was getting her a drink. She cozied up next to him, pulling her chair close to his.
“I’m not sure I like this,” Eric said as he watched, his chest puffing out a bit.
“Calm down,” Sheila said. “She’s prodding him.”
“He doesn’t know that,” Eric said. “I don’t like how he’s looking at her.”
“You don’t own her, doctor,” she snapped. “She can talk to whomever she wants to talk to.”
Silence. Randy scootched around in his chair with discomfort.
“I know you don’t like me, Sheila,” Eric said. “I’ve tried to ignore your snide remarks. Your eye rolling.”
Sheila sat up as a sudden wash of embarrassment came over her.
“I think Vera has enough room in her heart for both of us,” Eric said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She didn’t know what to say. Her heart was thumping in her chest. Her face felt hot.
“It’s not that I don’t like you,” she said after a moment. “I’m not used to husbands and boyfriends hanging around. Mine doesn’t. Bill didn’t. There’s family time—then there’s girl time. I don’t know why you’re always hanging around.”
His eyebrows knit.
“I don’t mind having you around sometimes, but give Vera room to breathe. Allow her to have time with her friends,” Sheila said.
“I’m sorry. I’m crazy about her,” he said, and glanced in Vera’s direction. “She’s never complained about my tagging along.... In fact I think she’s always invited me.”
He looked crestfallen and Sheila wished she had never opened her mouth.
“She probably has invited you,” Sheila said. “But you don’t need to accept every invite.”
Randy turned the page of the magazine he was pretending to read.
“You know I’m crazy about you, too,” she said, reaching out and patting his hand. “Don’t pay any attention to me. I’m probably being a selfish old coot. I love her, too. She’s my best friend.”
Sheila’s cell phone buzzed. And then so did Eric’s.
“We must be getting close to land,” he said.
Sheila picked up her phone and read Annie’s text: Harold’s ex-wife, Sharon Milhouse, is on the passenger list. Your killer?
How odd. She’d known a Sharon Milhouse in college. Now, she had been an odd bird. Surely it could not be the same person she went to school with. A wave of panic gripped her as a memory of Sharon hit her hard. Sharon had been madly in love with Steve. In fact, she had been Steve’s girlfriend when Sheila and he met. When they broke up, Sharon had tried to kill herself. Sheila had felt so sorry for her at the time, but later, when she and Steve started dating, she began to get death threats. They were never able to prove it, but everybody, including the local police, assumed it was Sharon.
The Sharon Milhouse of her college days on board the Jezebel? That was too much of a coincidence. Must be another one. Must be. Oh, she’d find out. Yes, she would.
“Are you okay?” Vera said as she approached the group. The boat rocked, making Randy spill his drink, just a little. He sat up to clean it. “You’re so pale.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Sheila said.
“Is it your head?” Eric said.
She waved her hand. “I just got a text from Annie.” She read it to them: “Harold’s ex-wife, Sharon Milhouse, is on the passenger list. Your killer?”
“Sharon Milhouse?” Vera squealed.
“What? Who is she?” Eric asked.
Vera explained.
“I’m sure it’s not the same one,” Randy said with assurance in his voice.
“We need to find out. That woman was a hot mess,” Vera said.
“What did you find out from the mysterious man from across the pool?” Sheila said.
“His name is James Spangler,” Vera said. “He’s an accountant from Oklahoma. This is his third scrapbooking cruise. Hard-core scrapbooker. He seems like a nice man,” she said.
“Don’t they all,” Randy said, and sighed.
The shipped rocked harder, sending the pool water right over the edges of the deck. The lifeguards blew their whistles. “Everybody out of the pool!”