Set Sail for Murder (14 page)

Polly smiled. “You obviously know nothing about me! Bubbles? Of course! I’ve had the most horrific day. I’m sure you heard all about it.”

“I suppose the news has traveled to every deck and stateroom aboard the ship.” Dorian smiled.

“What was I thinking?”

“You were thinking with your heart,” Dorian said. “You wanted atonement for the utterly odious savagery perpetrated against your dear friend. You should be proud of what you accomplished today.”

“Yeah, nearly ruining an innocent man’s reputation. Not
to mention being told that my name will be added to the ‘No Float’ list of people the ship won’t let on another cruise.” Polly pouted.

Dorian’s annulment of any wrongdoing by Polly started to heal her wounded pride. “I’m incredibly loyal to my friends and fans,” Polly agreed. “I did what I thought I had to do. I shouldn’t punish myself just because I got it one hundred percent wrong. At least I tried!”

Dorian raised his flute and clinked glasses with Polly’s. “You’re a legend. A symbol of hope for others. Never fall into the trap of believing anything negative that others may say about you.”

This time Polly raised her glass to Dorian’s. “You’re good for my fragile ego. So, Dorian, tell me about your day. And why isn’t there a Dorian listed as a passenger on the ship?”

“Caught me!” He took another sip from his glass. “This is more embarrassing than what you endured today.” He hemmed and hawed for a moment. “I’ve been known as Dorian ever since I had the lead in my high school production of the Oscar Wilde play. It was a disastrous debut, and same-day ending, of my never-a-chance-in-hell acting career. My friends would not let me forget that I ruined the production with my lack of talent.”

He held out his hand. “Allow me to reintroduce myself. Pete Dawson. And now I’m having a very good day.”

“Kids!” Polly said, and took another sip of champagne. “The darling light of my life but sometimes way too suspicious son had dozens of odious scenarios that starred you as someone about whom I should be wary.”

“You’re lucky to have someone who’s concerned about you. I’m sure he’s a terrific young man. How old is he?”

“Old enough. I had him when I was two.” Polly fussed with her hair and took another sip from her glass. “What about you? Children? Pets? A wife waiting in your cabin, or who thinks you’re on a business trip?”

“No. No. And not at the moment.”

Polly and Dorian’s conversation continued with superficial banter. They discussed the ship: “A Vegas knockoff on the high seas,” Dorian said.

The other passengers: “Why would anyone pay to travel with a boatload of self-absorbed celebrities?” Polly asked.

“Are there celebrities aboard?” Dorian joked.

Polly playfully slapped Dorian’s forearm. “The entire upper Promenade Deck is crawling with more used-to-be’s than at Bob Hope’s funeral. Why are you on this cruise?”

“Had to get away,” Dorian sighed. “Too much pressure. Found a last-minute deal that you wouldn’t believe!”

Polly studied Dorian for a long moment. “Which means that you’re not independently wealthy. Darn! Or, you’re loaded and you know how to hold on to a buck! Yes?”

Dorian laughed. “I’m afraid I’m a working stiff, just like nearly everyone else on the planet.”

“A glamorous job?”

“Buster Brown shoes. I sell ‘em.”

“No wonder you had to get away,” Polly teased. “So you’re not on this cruise to load your cell phone camera with candid pictures of Susan Dey denying that she ever starred on
The Partridge Family?”

Dorian shook his head. “What’s a Partridge Family? Don’t get me wrong. I watch a little television.
60 Minutes, The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, The Colbert Report.
And of course I know who you are. But I’m too busy, and I certainly don’t want to experience life vicariously.”

Polly raised her glass again. “To living.” Suddenly she felt sad. “If only my old costar Laura Crawford could have lived longer and enjoyed life a bit more.”

“A tragedy,” Dorian agreed. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Any other leads as to who her killer may be?”

Polly shook her head. “Nope. It’s a mystery. There are a couple of possibilities, but I have a feeling they’ll end up the same way that Lawrence Deerfield did. Innocent.”

Dorian signaled for the cocktail waitress and ordered a bottle of Dom Pérignon. “I know it’s late, but there’s so much to talk about. I think we’ll be here for hours. First, let’s dance.”

“I love dancing!” she said as she eagerly accepted Dorian’s outstretched hand and was smoothly guided to a small square of dance floor beside the piano. As soon as they stepped onto the parquet, the pianist deftly completed “Blue Bayou,” and immediately began playing “Long Ago and Far Away.” As Dorian held Polly close to his chest, she looked into his brown eyes. “This is my favorite song,” she said, and suddenly remembered Tim’s warning about how all of her personal information was available for public scrutiny on her Web site, her official fan site, the unofficial fan sites, and Wikipedia. “How did you know?” she asked, a bit circumspect but still pleased to be dancing with an elegant and strong man.

“I didn’t,” Dorian said.

“Any chance that
An Affair to Remember
is in your top ten list of favorite movies?”

“Just below
A Star Is Born
—the Garland version—and above
Somewhere in Time.”

Polly’s knees almost buckled. Dorian had just mentioned two of her all-time favorite films. “If we get into comedies and you say
Young Frankenstein,
I’ll follow you all the way to your stateroom! Kidding of course! Sorta. Maybe.”

Dorian drew Polly closer. Their dance movements were slow and smooth and in beat to the music, but they hardly moved. As the song ended, Dorian said, “I’ll have the Dom sent to my stateroom.”

“You can’t drink the whole bottle alone.” Polly smiled and allowed Dorian to lead her off the dance floor and out of the lounge.

When Tim and Placenta arrived at Polly’s stateroom the following morning, they discovered her bed had not been slept in. “Yes!” Placenta said, pulling her fist down in triumph.

“I don’t like this one bit,” Tim hissed. “We don’t know who this Dorian character is. He could be …”

“He could be the hottest thing since Jake Gyllenhaal buffed up and took off his shirt in
Prince of Persia.
Look, your mama’s a big girl. If she wants to have a night out on her own, I, for one, am thrilled. Give the woman a little leeway.”

“I’m responsible for her,” he said. “This ship is loaded with strange fans, not to mention a killer. When I said that it wouldn’t be so bad to make a new friend for the week, I didn’t think it would really happen.”

Placenta shook her head. “You young people think that intimacy is reserved for your own generation.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You just said that you didn’t think that anyone would be interested in Polly, other than as a fan. So she’s not as young as Jennifer Aniston—who’s not so young. Well, I have news for you, kiddo. Everybody wants to be touched. I don’t care how old you become, you still think about skin on skin. My ninety-two-year-old grandmother told me that once every few years she still has sex dreams at night.”

Tim made a face. “I just want to know that Polly is safe. Of course I hope she’s having a swell time. But we need to know that she’s not in any trouble.”

“You’re right,” Placenta grudgingly agreed. “We do need to find her. If she doesn’t come back or call within thirty minutes, I’ll contact security. Although Captain Sheridan would probably love nothing better than to be rid of her.”

“It wouldn’t look good for his ship to have two murders on the same cruise,” Tim said. “In the meantime, I need coffee. I saw a carafe across the hall.”

Tim opened the stateroom door, and Polly was standing at the threshold with her high-heel shoes dangling from her fingers in one hand and her key card in the other hand. She looked at her handsome son and nearly floated past him. “‘I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts.’” She sang the old hit song by Merv Griffin as she twirled like Julie Andrews on an Austrian mountaintop. She quickly came to rest on the nearby bed. Polly completed a few more bars of the song, before leaning back on the bed and releasing a long sigh of satisfaction.

“Sorry that you had such a lousy time,” Placenta cracked.

“If it was any worse, there’d be a symphony in the room with us,” Tim said, and sat on the mattress beside his mother. “Don’t ever do that again! Scare us, that is. You should have left a note saying where you were.”

Polly raised her head, leaned on her elbow, and took a long look at Tim. “Sweetums, I didn’t know that I’d be away all night. You’ve gotta teach me the proper etiquette for how much time you have to spend with a guy after …”

“A drink?” Tim said.

“A kiss?” Placenta added.

“Pillow talk!” Polly came right to the point. “I was ready to leave five hours ago, but I didn’t want to hurt Dorian’s feelings!”

“So it wasn’t all Fourth of July fireworks?” Tim said, trying to conceal a smile.

“Sparklers, sure. Cherry bombs? Not so much,” Polly confided. “But he’s very … okay, if not a teensy bit of a snore.”

Placenta shook her head. “I could never be with a tedious man. If he was Dorian Dullsville, why’d you stay the whole night?”

Polly thought for a moment. “Maybe it was fun feeling a little naughty.”

“You should have hit the road as soon as your heart rate returned to normal,” Tim said. “Now he has expectations. He’ll think you’re his mate for the rest of the voyage.”

Placenta grinned. “You should have these mother-son talks more often. You’re so adorable!”

Polly gave them the back story and explained that the evening had started out like a romantic fantasy. She recalled dancing, and that on the surface they would have passed the e-Harmony compatibility test. “Songs. Movies. Books. Plays. We shared many of the same likes and dislikes. Love Angela Bassett. Hate Vince Vaughn. The usual. But there was something missing.”

“It’s called chemistry,” Tim said.

“At least he has hair on his head, and he doesn’t need a hearing aid,” Polly said.

“Still, if he’s dreary, that’s a deal breaker,” Placenta said. “Monotony is not what I’d tolerate in a friendship, let alone a playmate.”

Polly lay back down on the bed. “Perhaps it’s just me. It’s possible that I expect too much from a man. Dorian is far from The Elephant Man. He seems smart enough, he’s sensitive, not very worldly or sophisticated, but he passes the age-appropriate test.”

Tim said, “Your problem isn’t with Dorian, it’s with Randy. You’re feeling bourgeoisie guilt.”

“Not!” Polly defended herself. “You were completely right when you said that Randy and I aren’t engaged or married. So why would I feel the least bit guilty about having a little fun?”

“Because you’re going steady,” Placenta said. “It’s high school all over again.”

Polly sighed and thought for a long moment. “I’ll admit that part of me was uncomfortable because I really like my
dear Randy. But there was something else. I can’t put my finger on it, so let’s just forget it. I promised to meet Dorian for a drink after my lecture. Then we’re going to dinner and dancing and …”

“There’s no ‘and’ unless you’re perfectly cool with it,” Tim insisted. “You don’t have to give a reason or an excuse for anything. Don’t ever forget that. If you don’t want to see Dorian again, he’ll get over it.”

As Polly got up from the bed and started to unfasten her dress, Placenta reached for a coat hanger. “You didn’t even bring us any gossip,” she quipped.

Tim looked at Placenta. “Boring people aren’t worth gossiping about.”

“What about his phony name?” Placenta asked.

Polly stepped out of her dress and shrugged her bare shoulders. “Dorian’s a nickname. It’s a family thing. Goes way back. His real name is Pete, but he’s Dorian to me. He’s used to it.”

Tim poured more coffee into his cup. “What else is he used to? Preying on lonely international icons from the golden age of television?”

“Yeah, he and Bob Newhart had a sloppy affair together,” Polly quipped. “And who’s lonely? Not me! He is just a guy. He sells shoes. He knows about contemporary art. He’s a good dancer. And he wants me to stop looking for Laura’s killer.”

“I like him after all,” Tim said.

Polly stepped into the phone booth-size bathroom and turned on the shower. As Tim and Placenta waited in the cabin, they agreed that it was in Polly’s best interest for them to keep her under covert surveillance, for her protection and their personal peace of mind.

Polly stepped out of the bathroom wearing one of the ship’s robes. “You’re still here?” she said, genuinely surprised
that Tim and Placenta had waited for her. “I’m going to bed. Call me at three, so I can be ready for the show at four.” She opened the stateroom door and whisked her son and maid out of the room. “Ciao!” she said, and closed and locked the door.

W
hen Polly sauntered onto the stage for her four o’clock lecture, the applause was thunderous. She visored her eyes with her hand and looked out at the audience. As the ovation continued, she pointed with appreciation and recognition to a dozen faces that she recognized, groupies who had attended each of her appearances. There they were, mostly older women, but a smattering of younger faces too, including Cori Berman’s. “Thank you all for coming!” she said, and applauded the audience. Polly then took her seat on the stage beside Tommy Milkwood and Arnie Levin.

Since the death of Laura Crawford, they had left one empty chair, a symbolic gesture to remind fans that Laura would always be part of the
Polly Pepper Playhouse
family. Gone but not forgotten.

As always, Polly, Arnie, and Tommy went through the routine of lying about how much fun they’d had for twelve seasons together on television. Film clips from some of the classic sketches as well as behind-the-scenes bloopers were played on large screens. Then it was time for the most popular segment of the program: reading audience questions. On her original hit series, Polly had started each week’s
program by reading a couple of letters from the mailbag. Although she and her writers prescreened the missives, and had come up with clever answers, she was now on her own. Whatever was written on a card is what she had to respond to. But no matter what her answers, it was her facial expressions, body language, and superb comic timing that made audiences scream with laughter.