My poor lonely balcony had company for a while that afternoon, thanks to Petronella.
True to her word, she unplugged the cabin phone, which had not rung once during this cruise that I was aware of. I pledged to rest and she finally left, saying she was going to her cabin, but she would be on guard that no one bothered me.
I could have resisted.
I could have slipped out as soon as she left me.
Truth be told, I felt the need of quiet to sort through what I knew, and what I didn’t.
With a cruise liner pad of paper and pen I sat at the small balcony table, making notes. The ocean hadn’t calmed and the clouds remained. But no rain fell and my cabin was high enough to miss any spray. The sea air and sounds of the ocean clapping against the ship proved as restorative as a nap.
My cell phone chimed with an arriving text.
Aunt Kit.
Her voice sounded in my head as I read it:
What are you being told, by whom, and why?
Odette flashed into my mind. A lot of my background information came from her, especially about the Marry-Go-Rounders. That was the whom and what. Why remained.
It didn’t occur to me until now, with you asking these questions.
Was that true? Or had Odette led me to the brink of those questions? Had she molded my thinking about the Marry-Go-Rounders? To believe she was so open and honest about what had happened and how she felt about it that I couldn’t possibly suspect her.
Even before there was a murder.
Which would mean….
I shuddered. Could I be so wrong about a person?
Yes.
She certainly hid things — don’t we all? She could have any number of secrets. Including, possibly, that the rub between her and Leah wasn’t solely competition? That she wanted revenge against Leah for stealing Wardham? That she still loved him? In fact, she’d had no reason to confide in me what she had confided.
Was that confiding, by itself, suspicious?
I needed to talk to Odette.
Then I remembered my first thought on finding Leah, Did Maya finally crack?
I needed to talk to Maya, too, if I could get past Ralph.
Maybe asking Maya about Leah’s troll reviewer role would open that door.
I didn’t necessarily see Leah’s Dee North persona as a motive for murder. If Aunt Kit had been aboard, maybe, considering her view on those who treated reviewing as a blood sport.
As it was, it would have made more sense for Leah to kill Maya for giving away her secret.
How could I—?
A second text came in. This time from Imka.
Constantine would end his shift at the poolside bar in half an hour.
* * * *
I called room service and had three chocolate desserts delivered anonymously to Petronella’s cabin.
I was poised when the waiter arrived with them. From a crack in my door, I watched her answer and follow the waiter back inside with the tray. That’s when I bolted out of my cabin and down the hallway the other direction.
The elevator doors opened almost immediately. I was a bit out of breath when I said, “Hi,” brightly to the redheaded Valkyrie, alone in the elevator.
Her “Hi” conveyed considerably less enthusiasm.
“I’m glad I ran into you.” That at least got her to look at me. “Is Coral really hurt? Or is the cast for show?”
Elevators don’t leave time for subtlety.
“Why should I tell you anything?”
I debated with myself for less time than it took her to turn away. “Because of our mutual friend, Jason.”
She stopped turning and looked at me. “You’re friends with Jason?”
“Not the way you are. Our bond is over champagne and tips. Yours is much more … personal. The kind of bond a husband might be interested in—”
She stopped my first attempt at blackmail with a vulgar and vehement word.
I interpreted that as a change of heart about my questions. “Is Coral’s injury real?”
“How the hell would I know? I’m not her nurse.”
“Have you seen anything that made you speculate or wonder if she isn’t as badly injured as she’s said?”
“I don’t have to speculate. She makes a big deal over a scratch. So, yeah, she’s not hurt as bad as she’s crying about.”
“What about the cast? Is that real?” She stared. I kept on. “Could she possibly take it off?”
“Take it off? It’s not like a bracelet or something, you know.”
I did know. Darn it.
It would be so much easier if she wore a walking cast that could come off in a pinch. A brace would be even better. But she had an old-fashioned cast.
I wasn’t ready to give up, though.
The ding announced we’d reached the top deck.
“If you have any reason to think she could take that cast off, text me immediately.” I wrote my number on the pamphlet with the day’s activities stacked in a holder.
She took it, but as the doors opened, she growled, “Right.”
“Give my regards to your husband.”
She sent back a gimlet glare. I smiled.