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That little bit of news seemed to surprise her. She studied the faces of our dining companions, taking in their nods. “Really?”
“Really. My husband had an unexpected heart attack and died on the spot,” my mother told her. “I was absolutely devastated. He was my Rock of Gibraltar.”
“My wife was a passenger in a car that was struck by a tractor trailer on the highway. Rosemarie died instantly,” Thaddeus announced. I let out an involuntary gasp, shocked at the unexpected revelation. How many meals had I shared with the good doctor? It was the first time I’d ever heard him talk about his late wife.
Kathleen turned to Kenny, waiting expectantly. He did not disappoint.
“My wife had multiple sclerosis for years and was sometimes unsteady on her feet. One day she fell down some stone steps and hit her head. Jillian never regained consciousness.”
The woman sitting at our table took a long breath, trying hard to compose herself. She filled her lungs with air, pursed her lips, and then slowly exhaled, as if trying to expunge the events of the day. For a moment, she teetered on the brink of success, but then a little sniff turned into a sob and that started another crying jag. We waited while she collected herself. At last she spoke.
“You really do understand what I’m going through.”
“Absolutely,” Thaddeus reassured her. “I still remember that punch to the gut, the disbelief.”
“The first few days are difficult. You don’t know what to do or how to feel.” Laurel’s fingers curled around the stem of her water goblet. “The hours just seem to drag on.”
“I just can’t believe he’s gone. George always said we were so lucky to find each other late in life. He’d been married before, but not me. This was only our second anniversary.”
“At a time like this it helps to be with people who love you.
“I wish I had some.” Kathleen took another swipe of her eyes with a tissue. “I’m on my own.”
“No parents?” Thaddeus inquired of her, a kindly note in his voice. He took a sip of his drink, looking away briefly, politely, as she wiped another stray tear.
“No. My parents died several years ago. My only sibling, Donna, died three years ago. She had two kids. They both live on the other side of the country. I do have a couple of adult stepchildren. Greg works...worked with his dad at the funeral home. Kayla is a school nurse. But I don’t really know them all that well.”
“Oh, you poor dear,” my mother commiserated with her. “You need to have good support at a time like this, just to keep going.”
“It sounds like they seated you at the right table,” I interjected into the conversation. I might not have lost a husband, but I understood loneliness and longing, and more than that, I understood what a chilling effect murder had on a family. Heaven knows I came close to dying more than once. I still woke up now and then in a panic, remembering the terror of looking into a killer’s eyes. That was probably not something I should share with the new widow. “You don’t have to worry about whether we understand what you’re going through, Kathleen. You’re among friends here.”
“Thank you, Scarlet. It means a lot.”
“Will you be flying back to the States once we dock in Bermuda?”
“I don’t think so. The cruise line told me they would pay for a flight for me, but George’s body has to be autopsied. It will take a few days to get the results, so it’s not as if I have to plan a funeral any time soon. I don’t think I can bear to be in that house all by myself.”
“I understand what you mean,” Kenny told her. “The house was suddenly so empty without Jillian. I threw myself into my work, just to avoid the endless, mind-numbing nights in front of the TV.”
“Does it ever get better?” she asked. The three members of the Widow and Widowers Club heaved a collective sigh.
“Eventually it does. It’s a long process, though,” Kenny warned her. Thaddeus raised his glass, agreeing.
“Sometimes it feels like that ache will never go away. It subsides now and again. You learn to take it one day at a time, and after a while, you start to look forward to the good days.”
My mother was watching Kathleen closely. I couldn’t fathom why, until she spoke.
“The hardest thing is to avoid falling into the trap of giving up on life, Kathleen. You have to ask yourself what George would want you to do and then find the strength to go on. Sometimes it’s a lot of work to propel yourself forward, but when you get into the daily habit of doing it, it slowly becomes routine. That’s really what helped me the most, knowing that my husband would have wanted me to continue living a good life. ‘Gentleman George’, as I called him, had taken care of me through my struggles after I was crippled. The thing I regretted most was the fact that I didn’t have the chance to do the same for him, but we had no idea how damaged his heart was. I never had the chance to tell him all the things I appreciated about him or how deep my love really went. These we find out too late, when we’re suddenly without the one we love.”
“His name was George too?” Kathleen seemed to cling to that fact like it was some magic talisman that Laurel handed to her. Maybe she thought that if Laurel got through widowhood, she could do it too. “Do you still miss him?”
“I do,” my mother nodded. “But I am blessed to have the opportunity to discover new love and my life is certainly richer for it.”
Laurel and Thaddeus exchanged a meaningful glance. For a second, I felt my throat tighten and thought about my dad. “Gentleman George” would surely approve of my mother’s choice of companion.
That’s the thing about death; it changes the world as we know it. One day everything is fine and dandy; the next, it’s turned upside down and inside out. I knew all too well the need to summon up one’s courage when we most feel alone. No doubt Kathleen would face waves of sorrow head on in the coming days, as the reality of her husband’s brutal killing washed over her again and again. But she would remember this evening long after the ship had docked and use it to get herself through those difficult, heart-wrenching hours.
After indulging in liqueur-laced coffees and decadent desserts, it was time to end our meal. Laurel and Thaddeus returned to Deck 6. Kenny and I walked the harrowed widow back to her quarters and waited while she opened the door to Stateroom 7310.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” she sighed. “Why would anyone want to kill George?”
The tears flowed freely once more, no doubt helped in part by returning to the last place she had been with her husband. Looking around, I could see the ghost of George Delaney was pervasive here, at least for his widow. It was hard to ignore his shoes, neatly positioned by the bed from which he had risen just this morning. Through the open bathroom door, I could see his black leather shaving kit sitting on the sink. Those reminders were likely to trigger memories, good and bad. Now that she was beginning to ask questions about the killer’s motive, she might be able to provide us with some clues about his final hours on the ship. What if she knew something she didn’t know she knew? Would that information put her in greater danger? Should we worry about her safety?
“Kathleen, would it be helpful or hurtful for you to move to another room?” I inquired.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She seemed torn as she sat down on the bed, letting her fingers stroke the bedspread, no doubt remembering those last treasured moments with George. “He was such a kind man.”
Kenny’s phone rang. He stood up and took a few steps in the direction of the balcony. “Do you mind?”
“No.” The widow shook her head. With that, Kenny opened the sliding door and disappeared into the night. I took advantage of the opportunity to ask her more questions, looking for some little tidbit that might yield a clue to the killer’s identity.
“Was George worried about anything lately? Was everything okay with his business?”
“Well, we suffered through the recession, just as everyone else has. He told me that the funeral business has changed a lot over the last decade. People used to spend money on lavish caskets and big flower displays. Now everything is eco-friendly. His friend Hector has a big boat for deep sea fishing excursions, so they partnered up for burials at sea.
“It’s an interesting concept. What does one of those entail?”
“Well, most people opt to have the body cremated, so there’s a boat ride out to a special place for a memorial service, after which the ashes are scattered. He and Hector could do that just about anywhere. But these days, the new trend is to return the dearly departed to the sea intact. For that, you need a mortician to prepare the body properly, because there’s no casket.”
“No casket at all?”
“They wrap the body up in environmentally-friendly materials before they slide it into the water. The funeral is a full day’s excursion for the passengers, because the captain has to go out at least thirty five miles, to where the ocean is six hundred feet deep. Everything has to be done according to Coast Guard regulations.”
“That makes sense. You certainly don’t want to have people unexpectedly come across a body floating in with the tide,” I remarked. “How many of those funerals did your husband do in a year?”
“Oh, offhand I’d say about fifteen or twenty a year, mostly in the warm months, although he and Hector also did unattended funerals at sea year round. They’d go out at first light, say a few words in remembrance of the deceased, slip the body into the ocean, and then go fishing for a few hours on the way home.”
“I had heard George was an avid fisherman,” I smiled. For a brief moment, Kathleen’s face softened, remembering.
“He certainly was. He used to say that it was the perfect job for a man creeping closer to retirement. Hector’s charter business fit right in with the burial-at-sea concept, so when word got out that this was a great alternative to the traditional funeral, there was a lot of interest. Fishermen, sailors, and even our summer residents wanted to do it after the local newspaper published a big article about it. George handled all the burial arrangements and, whenever there wasn’t a minister involved, he did the farewell prayers for the dead. Hector handled the food and drink for the passengers. Sometimes there would be a bagpiper or a singer. A lot of families turned it into a celebration of their loved one’s life, complete with videos and speeches.”
“If you’ll forgive me for saying this, Kathleen, it is rather odd that a man who did burials at sea ended up being murdered and tossed off this ship.”
“I agree.” Her big blue eyes lit on me. As she studied me, she seemed to hesitate. “Scarlet, can I tell you something? It’s been bothering me ever since that man came and got me at the pool.”
“Of course.”
“George mentioned to me that he thought he recognized someone on this ship, but when he tried to have a conversation with the man, he was brushed off.”
“I don’t suppose he told you the guy’s name?”
“No, but he was surprised to see him.”
“Was it someone from back home?” I inquired.
“I don’t think so. He would have told me that. We live in a very small town on the coast, where everybody knows everybody. It’s hard to have a secret in Caulkins Cove, Maine. Besides, I didn’t get the impression that he knew this man all that well. He was just kind of baffled that the guy blew him off, because he was fairly certain they had met before.”
Kenny chose that moment to reappear. The balcony door suddenly slid open and there he was. Talk about a conversation stopper.
“I’m sorry, ladies. I have to run down to the infirmary with Thad. Scarlet, your mom expects you back in the stateroom.”
“I don’t really want to leave Kathleen on her own right now,” I told him. It was true. I thought I might get her to cough up a few more details of George’s run-in, but only if I stuck with it. “It’s still early, Kathleen. Why don’t you come back with me? We’ll play some Scrabble in our cabin or just talk until the men get back.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you and your mother.”
“Don’t worry about that. We’re not going to bed right away. Besides, my mother enjoys talking to people.”
“But I seem to have monopolized the conversation all evening. Promise me we’ll talk about something else for a while.”
“Sure. Laurel and I will talk about our adventures at the Four Acorns Inn, where, as Kenny likes to say, ‘Nutty is the norm.’ There’s never a dull moment when you run an inn.”
Kathleen’s lips curled into a smile, but Kenny wagged a finger in the air.
“Don’t laugh. You have no idea of the trouble the Wilson family seems to attract. Why, I have spent many a day trying to keep them safe!”
“Surely you’re exaggerating just a little,” she replied. I let loose with a big guffaw.
“Actually, he’s not. It’s been one calamity after another. Come on. We’ll tell you all about it.”
Kenny escorted us down to the stateroom I was sharing with Laurel, where he met up with Thaddeus. My mother greeted Kathleen warmly as she sat on her perch by the bow window.
“I’m so glad Scarlet brought you with her. Come and see what’s going on. There’s some kind of parade.”
After the men departed, we watched the action for the better part of half an hour. Dressed in red hats, white slacks, and colorful “Hackensack Steamin’ Hot Mamas” tee shirts, the silver-haired ladies who marched in the street below us seemed to have more stamina than some of their younger cohorts. They performed a couple of line dances, waving their arms and shaking their fannies, before they made their farewells and disappeared.
Once the crowd dispersed on the promenade below us, we spent the next hour in lighthearted chatter, bantering about our respective lives in small town America. Kathleen had been an insurance agent for most of her adult life, taking over the family-run agency when her father retired. She had some funny stories about odd claims people filed. We shared some of our own tales about memorable inn guests who had passed through our doors. By the time Kenny came back with Thaddeus, we were laughing like old friends.
“Why don’t we walk Kathleen back to her room, while your mom and Thad have a chance to touch base, Scarlet?”
“Oh, I don’t want to take up any more of your time than I already have,” the new widow insisted. “I’m sure I can manage on my own.”
“I’m sure you can too, but I’m an old-fashioned guy. I’ll sleep better knowing you got safely back to your stateroom.”
“That’s the kind of thing George would say.”
“Well, all the more reason for us to accompany you,” he told her, holding the door for us.
As we headed down the hallway, I noticed she was limping slightly and wondered if she was in pain. I slowed my gait, trying to match hers.
“What will you do if you have trouble sleeping?” I wanted to know. “It’s easy to feel overwhelmed in the wee, small hours of the night.”
There was a long pause as she thought about it. Suddenly, her face changed slightly, a small, almost imperceptible twitch that signaled she was beginning to understand just how permanent George’s death really was. All that aloneness was a scary thought.
“I can always sit in the Café Promenade. Someone told me they’re open twenty four hours a day. You people are on vacation and you should enjoy yourselves. You don’t need me to drag you down.”
“Nonsense!” I put an arm around her shoulder. “Let me give you the phone number for our stateroom. You can call us any time, Kathleen. Laurel and I have pretty strong shoulders, if you need to talk.”
“That’s so sweet, Scarlet. I appreciate it.” She searched for a pen and a small notebook in her purse in the bottom of her purse. I watched her write down the information I gave her. When she was finished, she pulled out her Liberty of the Seas card and swiped the lock of her stateroom. “Thank you so much for....”
Kenny suddenly pulled Kathleen back into the corridor, pushing her at me with a force that nearly knocked me off my feet. We fell against the wall, making a rather loud thud. “Stay here!”
He quickly switched to stealth mode, carefully entering the room as if he expected a hostile welcoming committee to pop out of the closet. He was tightly wound and ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation.
Kathleen and I nervously stood in the doorway. We could see the contents of the room had been tossed like a chef salad. The closet doors and dresser drawers were wide open and clothing was strewn all over the place.
“Why would someone do this?” she asked me, her voice thick with disbelief.
“Someone was looking for something,” I decided. I took a step into the room. “Did you have anything of value? Money, jewels?”
“Not really.”
Kenny emerged from the bathroom and joined us out in the corridor. He carefully, quietly shut the door to Kathleen’s stateroom and then ushered us toward the elevator with an urgency that surprised me. The moment I opened my mouth to comment, he warned me off.
“Wait, Scarlet. Not here.”
Less than a minute later, I discovered we weren’t going back to the stateroom to rejoin Laurel; instead, we were on our way to the security office.
It was bustling with activity when we stepped through the door. People in blue shirts with distinctive epaulets were coming and going. Radios crackled as personnel contacted the security office to provide updates and request instructions. Kenny flagged the man sitting at the first desk for a short conversation and a moment later, we were buzzed into Marley’s office.
“Tolliver, what brings the conga line into my office at this time of night?”
“Mrs. Delaney’s room was broken into and its contents were disturbed.”
“Is that right?” Marley sounded skeptical.
“It is.” Kenny’s answer was definite.
For a few fleeting seconds, I wondered if Kenny and his old friend would try to arm wrestle for control of the case. I wasn’t sure which of the two would come out the victor.
“And how do we know the grieving widow isn’t just a sloppy passenger?” Marley made a point of looking her over like she was a plump boneless chicken breast in the butcher shop window and he was trying to decide how to cook her for dinner. He struck me as the kind of guy who would “shake and bake” her without blinking an eye.
“Because,” I cut into the conversation, more than a little disturbed that Kathleen was considered a suspect, “I was in the stateroom with her prior to that and it was as neat as a pin when we left it. She was never out of my sight from the time we left the immaculate stateroom until the time we returned, at which time we found it in disarray. Please tell me you’re not daft enough to think she had some role in this.”
“Stranger things have happened,” he shrugged. “Wives have been known to murder their spouses.”
“Not in this case,” I announced, standing my ground. “What factual basis do you have for believing Kathleen was involved in killing her husband?”
“We’re still looking into it.”
“Well, look some place else, because she’s innocent!” I met his gaze without blinking. I was damned if I was going to let him get away with railroading the widow, especially since I was convinced her shock at finding her stateroom a mess was genuine. “Are you implying she threw her husband over the railing all by herself?”
“She could have an accomplice,” said the head of the cruise line’s security program, a smug smile settling on his face as he continued to stare at Kathleen. She turned pale under his withering scrutiny, and for a moment, I worried she might pass out.
“And I could have a twenty-three inch waist and be an underwear model in a push-up bra, but that’s not happening in the real world! Care to join us as we deal with fact, not fiction?”