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It was after ten p.m. when Dottie and Mic left the dining room. Dottie was exhausted, pale with fatigue, Mic was dog-tired herself, and even Angel seemed to be missing his spunk. Michaela couldn’t wait to hit the sack and said so as they headed to the elevators.
Michaela broke the silence. “Well, Dottie. You didn’t tell me you were bringing me on a cruise where there’d be a murder. Thanks a lot. This may turn out to be a busman’s holiday,” she said with a laugh.
Dottie shrugged her shoulders and with a note of derision in her voice said, “I had no idea any of this would happen. But now that you mention it, lots of crimes do occur on cruise ships. It doesn’t make the newspapers – at least for the most part, which is certainly good for my business.”
Mic was surprised. “Really, I’ve never thought about crime aboard a cruise ship,” she admitted. “I think of cruises as being happy vacations, certainly not people on board planning to murder each other.” She stopped for a moment and began again. “Except, of course, for the newlywed wife who pushed her husband overboard a few years back.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Dottie muttered. “That was a marriage made in hell.”
“What kinds of crimes occur on ships?” Mic asked as they reached their staterooms.
“Let’s sit on your deck for a few minutes,” Dottie suggested. “I’m so wide-awake from the news of a murder, I don’t think I can calm down and go to sleep quite yet. Maybe a little fresh air will make me sleepy.”
“Sure, that’s okay with me. But I’m taking off this evening gown and putting on my sweats. And, by the way, I’m not dressing for dinner tomorrow night. I think I’ll order room service and eat in my jeans or sweat pants,” she informed Dottie who rolled her eyes.
“Oh, whatever,” Dottie said in a caustic voice. “I guess we’ll dine al fresco if you like. Then, perhaps we can go to the Royale Casino and gamble for a bit. I haven’t gambled on this cruise.”
Mic was quiet for a moment and then asked, “Ah, the scene of the crime. By the way, is there someone on board who gathers forensic evidence? It’ll be hard to find the killer if no one gathers evidence.”
Dottie gave a short laugh and said, “Trust me, Michaela. There’s no one to gather forensic evidence. Most likely, the murderer will never be found. If they don’t find him in a few days, my guess is he’ll leave the ship when we dock in Athens. Besides, no one has jurisdiction at sea. Very few crimes or deaths are even investigated.”
Mic pulled on her T-shirt, picked up a bottle of brandy and two snifters, and motioned for Dottie to open the glass door that led to the balcony.
Mic poured them both a snifter of brandy. Dottie accepted the glass gratefully and said, “It’s chilly out here. I thought the wind had died down, but I guess it’s come back up.” She looked over the balcony. “The Mediterranean is usually still, but the wind has churned up the water.” Mic stared into the dark water below and shivered in the darkness.
She stood and placed her brandy glass on the small table between them. “Wait here. I’ve got another heavy sweatshirt in my closet. I’ll get it for you, Dottie.”
Dottie nodded her thanks and said in a prim voice, “I’ve never worn a sweatshirt with an evening gown.”
Mic went into her stateroom, grabbed the sweatshirt, returned, and said, “The last thing I need is your ornery tail getting sick aboard the ship. That would be a real pain in my ass,” she snorted.
“It would be a bigger pain for me. The medical facilities here are limited. The cruise line offers immediate medical attention, for things such as heart attacks, but if someone is acutely ill, they’ll order them off the ship at the next port, no matter what language is spoken,” Dottie said with a frown. “The cruise line will transport the passenger to the closest hospital and that’s about it. I have no intention of becoming ill at sea... or anywhere else,” she assured her.
Mic nodded and said, “So, who has legal authority aboard ship?”
“Pretty much, it’s the captain, then the first mate, and so on down. Anytime there’s a crime reported at sea, the captain may, or may not, decide to report it to authorities,” she said as she paused to think. “Although, if an American dies at sea and it’s suspicious, the FBI is notified and they may decide to investigate. The crime is reported to law enforcement officials in the next port of call and they can choose to investigate or not. They rarely do. And, from what I’ve heard, they don’t really give a rip, so an investigation is pretty useless.” Dottie shrugged her shoulders at the blistering look Mic gave her. “I know it sounds bad, Michaela, but I can’t control any of it,” she said as she reached for her brandy.
Michaela was disturbed about how crime was handled at sea. She sipped her brandy and it warmed her all over. She reminded herself to take two Tylenol before she jumped in bed to deter any potential headache she might develop the next day. Mic rarely mixed her alcohol, but she had that evening. “So, suppose an American is killed at sea. Certainly, that wouldn’t go unnoticed. I’m still steamed up about the blackjack dealer who was killed. Will the cruise ship notify the family? Will there be an investigation?”
“We’ll notify the young man’s family about his death,” Dottie said. “As you know, most crewmembers come from poor countries and make almost no money. They sign on for three- to six-month tours of duty and are barely paid minimum wage.”
“Humph. That’s not much,” Mic said. “The service has been excellent.”
“It gets worse,” Dottie said with a sigh. “The minimum wage is terrible because the salary is based on the crewmember’s country of origin and the ports of call the ship visits. Although truthfully, most of the money made by the cabin stewards, bar people, restaurant workers, and so on, is based on the tips you leave when you check out.”
Mic nodded, “Yeah. That’s what I heard. I suppose that’s why there are no American employees on board.”
“Pretty much.” Dottie bottomed up her brandy snifter. “I’m tired, so I’m going next door to turn in,” she said with a yawn.
Mic looked up at her standing at the rail. Dottie looked tired. “Do you need any help getting all those clothes off? I can come over and help you get your jewelry off,” she offered.
“Hell no,” Dottie snapped. “I put it on and I’ll take it off, but thanks for the offer.”
Mic shook her head and walked her to the door, “You’re a stubborn old bat, Dottie. Get some rest; we’ve got a lot more traveling to do.”
Dottie nodded briefly and Mic watched her enter her stateroom. She shook her head. Dottie could be one stubborn pain in the ass. No question about that.