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The man was about twenty-five years old. He had a blonde, closely-cropped buzz cut and an athletic build. His skin was nicely bronzed, suggesting he spent lots of time playing outside in the sun. He was a good looking fellow with defined muscles and a chiseled jaw. He was the type of guy women probably swooned over.
He was dressed in brand name clothing from head to toe. Either he was well off or he wanted to give the impression that he was. He wore a burgundy polo shirt, grey khaki shorts and a gold chain around his neck. He was missing one of his flip flops; it was something that bothered Claudia more than it should have for reasons she couldn’t quite explain.
Time stood still.
It also raced.
Her brain couldn’t seem to comprehend that the man in front of her was dead. So instead, she focused on that absent flip flop. As people were alerted to her awful discovery and events began to unfold at breakneck speed, she sat on the floor a short distance away grieving the loss of the deceased man’s footwear.
“It isn’t fair,” Claudia told Scott, leaning heavily against him. “What good is one shoe?”
“You’re in shock,” Scott told her gently, a look of concern in his eyes. “It’s understandable.”
“Mew,” the orange and white cat announced, suddenly making an appearance. It wound itself around Claudia before affectionately headbutting her chin. It seemed to sense that she needed distraction and comfort, and was more than happy to oblige.
A group of onlookers had gathered. As they stood around observing the scene, they began to murmur amongst themselves. As was often the case, it didn’t take long for the speculation to start. It was only natural, Claudia supposed, for people to desperately try to make sense of something so shocking.
“How awful!” someone murmured.
“Imagine, dying on vacation! What terrible luck!”
“If he was older, it might not be such a shock. But look at him! He’s young - in the prime of his life! No one expects a young fellow like that to die. What a tragedy.”
“Do you think he had a medical emergency?” a bewildered middle aged man wondered aloud as the dead man was loaded onto a stretcher and covered with a white sheet. “Maybe he had a heart attack or something...although that doesn’t explain how he wound up in the closet.”
“I bet it was a drug overdose,” an older woman said in a disapproving, know-it-all tone. “He probably bought some drugs in Nassau, got high as a kite and then wandered into the storage closet. All these young people do on cruises is party.”
“It wasn’t a heart attack or an accidental overdose,” Claudia told Scott quietly.
He looked at her curiously. “How do you know?”
“I got a good look at him before a security guard showed up and made everyone back up. I mean, the image of that poor guy dead in the closet is seared into my brain. His knuckles were all scraped up, and he had bloodstains on his shirt. It looked like he had been roughed up.”
“Jeez. So someone killed him?” Scott asked, reading between the lines.
“It looks like it. I wonder how he ended up in the closet,” Claudia mused as she absentmindedly stroked the cat. “I mean, someone had to have put him in there. My guess is they were hoping to hide the body until they could dispose of it.”
“It doesn’t seem like a very well thought out plan,” Scott remarked.
“No, not at all. Maybe the death wasn’t planned at all,” Claudia theorized. “Maybe it was an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment thing. The killer or killers panicked and stashed the body in a closet while they tried to figure out what to do.”
“Maybe.” Scott looked at the cat. “Should I escort your new friend off the ship?” he asked.
“I guess,” she agreed, reluctantly handing the fluffy feline over.
“Claudia!” Emily called out as she strolled around the corner. She stopped in her tracks and looked at the group that had gathered in confusion. Then she took note of the grim expressions on everyone’s faces. “What happened?” she demanded, rushing over.
Wordlessly, Claudia pointed to the stretcher.
“Is that...is that a body under there?” Emily whispered, her eyes wide. “Did someone die?”
Claudia nodded.
Just then an official looking man boarded the ship waving a badge around. He walked over and spoke with the cruise ship workers who had loaded the dead man onto the stretcher. Then he pulled the sheet down so he could have a look at the victim’s face.
Emily took one look at the dead man, gasped and stumbled backwards.
“Are you okay?” Claudia asked.
“No,” Emily replied, her face ashen. She swallowed hard, struggling to maintain her composure. “I know him!” she finally managed to choke out, pointing to the dead man with a trembling finger. “It’s Kyle’s cousin!”
