EIGHT

 

Our suite was situated on the starboard side of the ship. Perhaps the port side faced the dock. Or the ship had nosed in or backed into its assigned berth. If so, shouldn’t I at least have a view of other cruise ships docked alongside us? After all, we were at the height of the winter cruise season in the Caribbean.

Zack had already risen. When I entered the bathroom, I found a note on the counter next to the sink: Woke early. Went up to the bridge to view the passport photos from the manifest. Will meet you in the dining room for breakfast. Z.

The evening before, the cabin steward had left us a copy of GemEvents when he brought fresh towels and turned down the beds. Along with listing the day’s shipboard activities, various available shore excursions, and Nassau shops featuring the best prices on anything a tourist might desire, the newsletter included a weather report. We could look forward to a sunny day with a mild breeze and a high in the mid-seventies.

Once I showered, I slathered on sunscreen. Even with relatively cool temperatures, I knew I needed to protect my skin from the harsh rays of the Caribbean sun. I dressed in a pair of black jeans, a scooped-neck pink T-shirt, and my Mets ball cap for additional sun protection.

By the time I finished dressing, Mama and the boys were also awake and dressed. Or in Mama’s case, overdressed. She wore a yellow, peach, and orange floral tea-length sundress, better suited for the annual Westfield Garden Club luncheon than a morning of walking on cobblestone streets. A yellow-dyed straw hat with a floral band in the same patterned fabric as her dress sat perched on her head. Strappy yellow sandals with a kitten heel finished off the outfit.

“Mama, part of our tour involves walking around Nassau’s historic district. Maybe you should rethink your choice of footwear.”

“Oh, I’m not going with you this morning, dear.”

“You’re not?”

“I decided to switch to the wine and dine food tour with Lenore and a few of the seniors I met at the social yesterday. We’ll be transported around the city in a jitney. I’m sure I mentioned it to you last night.”

I was certain she hadn’t. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Mama, not until Emerson is apprehended.”

“Nonsense, Anastasia. You worry too much. I’ll be in a group with a tour guide. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

I couldn’t do much beyond sigh. Mama was an adult. It’s not like I could ground her. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”

“Of course, dear. Now let’s go to breakfast. I’m famished.”

~*~

We arrived in the dining room to find Shane and Sophie waiting for us. Although the teens had decided at dinner last night to ditch us at mealtime in the future, I had insisted we all dine together this morning. I knew I couldn’t keep tabs on them twenty-four/seven, but after the events of last night, this mother hen wanted her chicks snug under her wing for as long as possible. Under protest, they had agreed to join us for breakfast.

“But that’s it,” said Nick.

“We’ll see,” I said, knowing I’d have to give in eventually. However, I hoped I could stretch out eventually to more than one meal.

To my surprise, Birdie Gilbert and the Marwoods were also at the table and already eating breakfast. They gave no signs of Orson’s horrific demise the night before. No dark circles, red eyes, or puffy faces indicated any of them had spent a sleepless, tear-filled night. I glanced questioningly at Shane. He offered a nearly imperceptible shrug of one shoulder.

What does one say in a situation like this? Should I even acknowledge their loss, or was it best to ignore the pachyderm in the dining room? I suddenly understood the responses—or lack of them—from many of our friends and neighbors when Karl died suddenly in Las Vegas.

As I grappled with whether or not to mention Orson’s death, Mama took control of the situation. Sometimes having served as the social secretary of the local Daughters of the American Revolution chapter had its advantages. “Please accept our condolences on your loss,” she said.

I probably would have verbally tripped and stumbled as I searched for the perfect words.

Birdie paused, a forkful of scrambled eggs halfway to her mouth. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes flat and her voice completely devoid of emotion.

Dennis and Bunny looked up from their plates to acknowledge Mama with a nod of their heads but said nothing. Then all three turned their attention back to their breakfasts.

How odd! Perhaps they’d all self-medicated prior to arriving in the dining room this morning.

I glanced out the wide expanse of dining room windows, again seeing nothing but water. “Are we in port yet?” I asked Shane.

“Doesn’t appear so. I wonder what’s going on.”

The waiter handed menus to Mama, the boys, and me. Alex and Nick both ordered cream cheese and blueberry stuffed French toast with a side of sausage links. Mama chose a Belgian waffle with fresh berries and whipped cream.

I frowned behind my menu. Oh, to have my mother’s metabolism! But since I didn’t and never would, I opted for an egg white omelet with spinach, mushrooms, and feta cheese, along with a fresh fruit cocktail.

Shortly after we placed our orders, Lenore arrived. She wore a blue and lavender floral sundress so similar in style and pattern to Mama’s that I had to wonder if they’d coordinated their outfits this morning. Lenore had forsaken her tight bun for an equally tight ponytail threaded through an opening at the back of her lavender-dyed straw sunhat.

She greeted all of us and took the seat next to Mama. “Well?” asked Mama. “How’d it go last night?”

“With what?” asked Lenore.

“Your…headache?” Mama ended her question with a wink, then added, “I wasn’t born yesterday, dear.”

Lenore feigned ignorance. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Mama glanced over at the teens. “I’m sure the evening will come back to you once we’re alone. And when it does, I want details of your rendezvous with that good-looking gentleman we met in the casino.”

“Really, Flora, my only rendezvous last night was with two aspirins and a glass of water. Besides, do you think I’m the kind of woman who would kiss and tell?”

“I guess I’ll soon find out, won’t I?”

I wondered how recently Lenore’s husband had died. Last night at dinner she grew teary-eyed when she mentioned this was her first cruise since his passing. Yet it now sounded like less than an hour after that emotional performance, she’d hooked up with a complete stranger for a bit of senior hanky-panky—unless Mama’s imagination had run wild, and Lenore really did have a headache last night.

Mama then leaned over and whispered in Lenore’s ear. When Lenore glanced sideways at Birdie and the Marwoods, I knew Mama had told her about Orson’s death.

As soon as Mama stopped whispering, Lenore turned to Birdie and said, “My sympathies on your loss.”

With tightly pursed lips, Birdie stared at her without saying a word.

Zack finally joined us about five minutes later. “Sorry,” he said as he settled into the empty chair next to me. He nodded across the table to Birdie and the Marwoods but said nothing. I suppose he’d already offered his condolences at some point after they had arrived on the bridge last night.

The waiter swooped in and handed Zack a menu. With the menu raised to cover his face, he spoke under his breath so that only I heard him. “Things are a bit chaotic upstairs.”

“Have you decided, sir?” asked the waiter, stepping between us.

Zack quickly scanned the menu, choosing a Western omelet with a side of hash browns and a rasher of bacon.

“Did you find Emerson?” I whispered after the waiter took Zack’s menu and hurried off to place his order.

“I’ll tell you later. There’s something else going on.”

“Does it have anything to do with our not being docked in Nassau?”

“It does. I believe the captain will be making an announcement shortly.”

Sure enough, almost before Zack had finished his sentence, the bells sounded, alerting us to an impending message.

“Ladies and gentleman, good morning. This is Captain Halvorson,” he said. “Some of you may have noticed we’re not docked in Nassau.”

Around the room many passengers shifted in their seats to stare out the windows. I wondered how they hadn’t previously noticed we were still at sea, especially since many of the shore excursions were scheduled to depart within the next hour.

The captain continued, “This is due to a forced change of plans. One of our crewmembers came down with a case of measles last night. He was immediately placed in quarantine. Because his duties don’t include interfacing with passengers, he poses minimal risk to any of you who have not had the measles or the measles vaccine.”

A buzz of angry voices now filled the dining room.

“As mandated by law, we have notified the CDC and the Ministry of Health in Nassau, which is presently rounding up doses of vaccine to tender out to our ship. I’ve been informed that administering the vaccine within seventy-two hours of exposure should provide protection to those unvaccinated passengers who may have been exposed, even though, as I said, exposure is highly unlikely. I will make another announcement once we have the vaccine onboard.”

He cleared his throat before continuing. “Meanwhile, I regret to inform you that due to the highly infectious nature of this disease, the Bahamian Health Minister has denied us docking and disembarkation at any of our ports of call in The Bahamas.”

At this, the angry buzz within the dining room grew into a loud roar of objection, the rising decibel level nearly blocking out the sound of the captain’s voice.

“So now what?” I asked Zack.

The captain answered for him. “Once we have the vaccine, we’ll move beyond the twelve-mile limit, enabling us to open the casino. We’ll then begin a leisurely sail around the various islands of The Bahamas until it’s time to make our way back to Bayonne, New Jersey. Meanwhile, our cruise director and her assistants will schedule additional onboard activities for all of you.”

At the table next to us a man stood abruptly, knocking his chair over backwards. “We should all go up to the bridge and demand our money back,” he shouted above the noise in the dining room.

Others immediately agreed, jumping to their feet. As the man stormed out of the dining room, dozens of other passengers followed him.

The captain finished by saying, “I apologize for the change of plans, but my crew and I will endeavor to make your stay onboard the Gemstone Empress as enjoyable as possible.”

“Why won’t they allow the ship to dock in Nassau and let those of us who aren’t sick onto the island?” asked Sophie.

“Because measles is highly contagious,” I said. “Worst of all, if you’re infected, you’re spreading the virus for several days before you even know you’re ill.”

“So you have measles before you know you have measles?” asked Alex.

“That’s right, but you don’t have to worry. Both you and your brother were vaccinated, as was I, and your grandmother had measles as a child.” I turned to Zack. “I’m assuming you were also vaccinated as a kid?”

“With all the traveling I do? I’m vaccinated for everything, including viruses you’ve never heard of.”

“What about you and me?” Sophie asked Shane.

“Totally protected,” he assured her.

“Then why do we have to stay on the ship?” she asked.

“Because we don’t carry around proof of vaccination with our passports,” I said. “The authorities in the Bahamas are not going to take our word that we pose no risk to any of their citizens.”

“And they shouldn’t,” added Zack. “Too many people would lie, putting the island’s population at risk.”

“And to think,” said Nick, “we could be skiing in Vermont right now.”

“Hey Dad,” said Sophie. “Any chance you’d like to take us up to Stowe for spring break?” She held her breath, her hands clasped in front of her in the universal gesture of teenage begging. “Please?”

Shane studied his daughter for a moment before glancing over at Alex and Nick, both of whom held their breaths awaiting his answer. Then he turned to me and said, “The ball’s in your court.”

“Mom, you have to say yes,” said Nick.

I shot him a Mom Look. “Really, Nick? I have to?”

“Way to go, bro,” said Alex, landing a punch on Nick’s bicep. “You better hope you didn’t just blow it for us.”

Nick hung his head and eyed me sideways. “I’m sorry, Mom. That came out all wrong.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

“Can we still go?”

The way I saw it, I had several options. I could outright deny the trip, hands-down capturing the Worst Mother Ever Award. In addition, Alex and Nick would probably remind me of my fall from grace for the next several decades, if not the remainder of my life.

I could keep them in suspense, stating I’d have to think about it, but what would be the point of setting myself up for a barrage of nonstop nagging?

Then there was my third option, the one that would garner my sons’ undying gratitude now, plus hopefully ensure they’d pick out a decent nursing home for me when the time came.

I turned my head to find Zack watching me as I performed a mental Eenie-Meenie-Miney-Mo. The boys might be worried about my answer, but from the slight smile playing on Zack’s lips and the twinkle in his eye, I knew he knew the choice I’d make.

And why shouldn’t I give in and let them go skiing? They’d suffered enough over the last year, thanks to their father’s betrayal. What purpose did it serve to deny them a fun trip, especially since I knew it wouldn’t cost me anything? There was no way Shane would ever allow me to pay the boys’ expenses, not after saving Sophie from a kidnapper and clearing him of murder charges.

“Okay,” I finally said, “as long as Shane doesn’t mind dealing with you on his own.”

To my surprise, both boys jumped out of their seats and sandwiched me in a bear hug. “You’re the best,” said Nick, planting a kiss on my cheek.

“Ditto,” said Alex, adding a kiss to my other cheek.

As the boys returned to their seats, I noticed Birdie and Bunny sporting identical tight-jawed frowns. Although they kept their heads bowed over their plates, I realized they had turned their attention to the conversation going on across the table, observing us through dark, hooded eyes. However, I couldn’t tell if their expressions telegraphed disapproval or some other emotion. Envy, perhaps?

I wondered if either of them had children or grandchildren, but both women had made it clear, even before Orson’s death, they had no desire to converse with us. Such a question would have been met with a blank stare yesterday. Asking now would be completely inappropriate.

When they realized I was aware of them watching us, they both turned their attention back to finishing their breakfasts. Shortly thereafter they and Dennis rose from the table and left just as the waiter delivered our meals.

“Strange people,” said Mama, staring at the trio’s backs. “They didn’t even say goodbye. Up and left as if they were the only ones seated at the table.”

“Maybe they’re in shock,” I said. “People handle grief in different ways.”

“They were strange before Orson’s death,” she reminded me.

I couldn’t argue with her on that point. If Ralph were on the cruise with us, he’d squawk about something being rotten in Denmark, even though we were sailing in the Caribbean.

Lenore cocked her head toward Mama. “I’ll second that. Although I suppose I can’t blame Birdie for giving me the evil eye. I know it’s not right to speak ill of the dead, but did you notice how her husband pawed me last night? And right in front of her, no less!”

“You handled the situation with admirable restraint,” said Mama.

“I saw no point in making a scene,” said Lenore.

“Speaking of dead bodies,” said Alex, “what do they do with them when someone dies on a ship? Do they hold burials at sea like in olden times?”

“They probably store the corpses in the refrigerator,” said Nick.

“With our food?” asked Mama. Her eyes grew wide as her hand flew to her heart. “I certainly hope not.”

“Relax, Flora,” said Shane. “I did a little research last night. All cruise ships are outfitted with morgues. The bodies are nowhere near our food.”

“Well, that’s a relief!” said Mama, fanning herself with her napkin.

~*~

With shore excursions canceled, after breakfast the teens opted for the gym while Mama took Lenore to check out the spa facilities. “Stick together,” I told Sophie and the boys as they stood to leave. “No one goes off alone, and I want a text if you see Emerson, even if he doesn’t approach you.”

“And text us when you leave the gym to go somewhere else,” added Shane.

Nick opened his mouth to object, but before he could say anything, Alex beat him to the punch. “No problem. We’ll check in hourly if you want.” He waved as the three of them raced from the dining room.

At least one of my sons was progressing toward becoming a mature adult. At fifteen, Nick still needed time to learn a thing or three—or three hundred.

I turned to my mother. “Same directions for you, Mama.”

“Really, Anastasia, how am I supposed to be aware of a man I’ve never seen? Have you any idea how many men on this ship fit the general description you gave me last night?”

Zack had pulled out his phone. “I’m texting his passport photo to everyone right now, Flora.”

“Who’s Emerson?” asked Lenore.

Mama rose from the table. “A murderer who is supposed to be in prison.”

Lenore’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. “And he’s on this ship?”

Mama placed her hand on Lenore’s arm. “I’ll tell you all about him on our way to the spa.”

Lenore turned to Zack. “Maybe I should have his photo as well.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Zack. “What’s your cell number?”

Lenore rattled off the digits. A moment later her phone pinged. “Got it.” She stared down at the image on her screen and frowned.

“Have you seen him?” asked Zack.

“No.” She shook her head and emitted a long sigh. “But what a shame!”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Lenore continued to fixate on the image on her phone. “He’s rather handsome, isn’t he?”

“So are jaguars,” said Zack, “but trust me, you don’t want to get up close and personal with either a jaguar or Emerson Dawes.”

Lenore pulled her attention from her phone and shuddered. “Noted.” She waved the cell toward Zack. “Thanks for the warning.”

Mama and Lenore looped arms. Acting like they’d known each other forever, the two women started toward the dining room exit, but after taking three steps Lenore stopped and turned to face Mama.

“Something wrong?” asked Mama.

“Just thinking,” said Lenore, “since our excursion was canceled and we’re confined to the ship, we should change into something more comfortable. Why don’t we meet at the spa in half an hour?”

Mama nodded in agreement, and the two women resumed their side-by-side strut through the dining room.

“I’m glad Mama has found someone to hang with during the cruise,” I said to Zack. “I just hope they stay out of trouble—and away from strange men.”

“We are talking about your mother, right?”

I sighed. “Point taken.”

Zack glanced over at Shane, then back toward me. “We need to talk.”

“I’m listening,” said Shane.

Zack cocked his head to indicate the buzz of activity going on around us. Dozens of wait-staff scurried about, clearing dishes and resetting tables as passengers finished their breakfasts and left the dining room. “Not here. Somewhere private.”

“Our suite?” I asked.

Zack shook his head. “It’s probably being cleaned or will be shortly. Let’s find an empty corner of the ship where we’re out of earshot from everyone.”

Easier said than done, since we were all stuck on the ship. After strolling around several decks, we finally found a vacant outdoor patio attached to one of the celebrity chef restaurants. We chose a table hidden from the deck promenade by oversized, brightly colored glazed pots filled with fragrant flowering shrubbery.

Since the restaurant didn’t open until dinnertime, chances were good that we could talk freely without fear of any eavesdroppers. Even so, before taking a seat, Zack pulled out his phone and checked the area for listening devices.

Shane’s brows knit together as he watched Zack scan the area. “You think Emerson’s bugged the ship?”

“Not personally,” said Zack, “but someone is helping him, and I have no idea how deeply that help runs, including having paid off crewmembers.”

“But still…” said Shane.

“Seems paranoid to you?” asked Zack.

“Slightly.”

Zack shrugged. “Never hurts to control what you can. Especially when there’s so much in life you can’t.”

“I see your point,” said Shane.

I was more bothered by the fact that checking for bugs meant Emerson Dawes still had the run of the ship. Had Emerson been picked up after Zack identified him through the passport photo on the ship’s manifest, we wouldn’t still need to worry about bugs—or Emerson.

Once Zack was satisfied no listening devices were hidden around the patio, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and joined Shane and me at the table. “Emerson is traveling with a Canadian passport under the name Desmond Rutledge.”

 “I’m sensing a huge but,” I said.

Zack grimaced. “The captain circulated his photo to the crew. No one admits having seen him.”

“Not even his cabin steward?” asked Shane.

“No.”

“How is that possible?” I asked. “We know he was in the Pearl of the Sea Buffet yesterday before we sailed and later in the jewelry shop where he approached Sophie and me.”

“Plus, when he accosted Zack outside the restrooms by the theater,” said Shane.

“It’s easy to get lost in a crowd when you don’t stand out for any obvious physical reason,” said Zack.

“You two nearly came to blows last night,” I said. “Surely someone noticed.”

“Probably, but apparently none of the ship’s security officers or other crewmembers were nearby at the time,” said Zack.

“So what happens now?” I asked. “Will the captain have Emerson’s cabin staked out?”

Zack shook his head. “Doubtful. The captain has his hands full right now, both with Orson’s death and the measles case. Emerson has become a low priority.”

“Why?” I asked. “He’s a killer.”

“A paroled killer who hasn’t committed any crime on this ship.”

“Other than using a fake passport,” I said.

Zack sniggered. “The captain actually suggested I had no proof that Emerson hadn’t legally changed his name and become a Canadian citizen.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Security is aware of the situation and will remain on the lookout, but the captain isn’t devoting any additional resources toward apprehending him.”

Until Emerson succeeds in pulling off whatever he has planned, moving him back to the top of the priority list. Of course, at that point it might be too late. “What about Orson?” I asked. “Does the captain have proof Emerson wasn’t involved in his death?”

“No, but according to what he told me this morning, he thinks it’s a long shot. All indications are that Orson jumped.”

“How can he be sure?” I asked.

“From his discussion with Orson’s wife, her sister, and the brother-in-law. They told him Orson suffered from dementia. They suspected he had chronic traumatic encephalopathy.”

“The brain injury football players and other athletes sometimes get?” I asked. As the mother of two sons who played sports, I constantly worried about them sustaining concussions that could eventually lead to CTE. To my immense relief, so far both had remained free from head injuries.

“Many CTE sufferers wind up committing suicide,” said Shane.

“Exactly,” said Zack. “And since the captain said his crew found no evidence of a struggle or tampering of railings or balconies on any deck above the lifeboat where Orson was found, he considers the case closed.”

“How convenient,” I said.

“There’s one more thing,” said Zack. 

His brow furrowed and his face grew dark. I was certain I wouldn’t like what he was about to say. “What?”

“Emerson’s key card hasn’t been used to enter his cabin since shortly after he arrived onboard yesterday afternoon.”