Set Sail for Murder (17 page)

Suddenly she spat, “Placenta! Are you wearing
my
Chanel No. 5?”

Instantly, from out of the darkness under the stairs, two sets of hands reached out and grabbed Polly by the waist, and dragged her into the vice of four arms.

“As for you, Timmy, your Dolce isn’t very subtle,” she said.

“You’re being followed,” Tim’s voice whispered.

“Anyone interesting?” Polly retorted.

“If you’re interested in Cori Berman. And Rosemary from the spa. And Dangelo, too.”

“He’s all yours, Sweetums,” Polly said.

“Nah, that’s over,” Tim said, accidentally speaking without muting his voice.

“Darn,” Polly whispered without much conviction. “There’s still Neil Patrick Harris. You know darn well that I want him to be my son-in-law. You promised you’d at least try.”

Placenta interrupted Polly’s fantasy of seeing her son married to the one man in show business who she felt would be the perfect match for her son. “Dorian’s hanging around the deck, too. Careful. He’s getting closer. Where the hell is security?”

Polly tried to peek out from the cloak of the shadows, but she was pulled back into the fold of Tim’s and Placenta’s arms. The trio watched as a few pairs of passengers strolled by. When they could see Dorian approach, they held their respective breaths. Cori, too, walked toward Polly’s hiding place, and when he was mere inches away, he stopped, sniffed the air, and caught the scent of perfume.

“Nice night,” Cori said.

Polly almost answered but was interrupted by another voice, which Polly instantly recognized.

“Skip the Twitter.”

It was Rosemary’s voice. “When does she cash in?”

Tim quietly wrapped his arm tighter around his mother and drew her a few inches deeper under the stairs.

“A change of plans,” Cori said.

“Cold feet?” Rosemary sneered.

“A warm heart. He needs more time to get it right. But the fish has nibbled on the bait.”

Cori and Rosemary moved on, and Tim cautiously peered out from their place of hiding. “All clear, I think,” he said, and took Polly’s hand. Placenta held Polly’s other hand. They moved in tandem and retraced their steps back to the inside of the Promenade Deck. Walking briskly past the atrium, to the bank of elevators, Tim suggested that they use the stairs for a faster return to their cabins. With his mother sandwiched between him and Placenta, Tim began the descent.

“I’m in heels, dear,” Polly said as she tried to keep up with her son. Tim slowed down, but when he arrived on upper Deck Seven, he wanted to dash for the safety of Polly’s stateroom.

Just as the trio arrived at Polly’s cabin door, a familiar voice bellowed down the corridor. “Polly Pepper!”

Polly and her team turned around and found Captain Sheridan, the cruise director, and two uniformed officers from the ship’s security team.

Polly was dead tired. However, she turned on her smile and waited for the ship’s staff to reach her. “If it’s about the champagne, I don’t recall any restrictions in my contract about what I’m allowed to order at dinner. You can check with my adorable agent, J.J.”

“I just want to try and fathom what you think you’re doing on this ship,” Captain Sheridan said.

“Aside from feeling that you’re a mean-spirited bully, I’ve been hired to perform a job,” she said, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. “Frankly, your disposition
has been pretty fierce ever since we arrived here. What’d I ever do to get on the wrong foot with you?” She stopped for a moment and said, “Oh, right.”

Captain Sheridan looked at Polly for a long minute. “You rich and famous and pampered celebrities …”

“Icons,” Placenta corrected.

“… are always looking for publicity stunts to keep your name in the public eye. Twice on this voyage you’ve gone too far. First with the false accusations about Mr. Deerfield’s involvement in the murder of Laura Crawford. Now, with the phony obit in our daily newsletter.”

Polly’s smile faded. “If you continue to impugn my integrity I’ll have no other choice than to call in a few favors from my nearest and dearest in the cruise line industry. You’ll be swabbing the decks instead of running the bridge!”

The captain harrumphed. He looked at Polly and flatly stated, “I intimidate the passengers. Not the other way around.”

Polly laughed. “You obviously don’t read the
National Peeper
or catch
TMZ.
If you did, you’d know that hard-boiled studio heads cringe when they have to deal with me—or more precisely, my agent. I can play the sweet, lovable, lady-next-door while J.J. pushes publicity department senior VPs to tear off their own fingernails. But don’t underestimate my own ability to handle myself in a crisis.”

Tim stepped forward. “In other words, P.P.’s J.J. has titanium
cojones
the size of bowling balls.”

Polly chuckled. “Timmy exaggerates.”

“But not in this case,” Placenta said.

Polly turned to Saul. “I thought we were going to keep the newsletter mess away from Herr Poseidon,” she said.

Saul looked down to avoid eye contact with Polly. “I didn’t have a choice. As a matter of fact, Captain Sheridan sent a special unit of the ship’s security to keep their eyes on you. After reading the
Daily Wave,
he was genuinely concerned for your safety.”

Polly’s attitude melted. “Concerned? For
moi?
You’re too sweet. All right. If I was slightly insane a few moments ago, keep in mind that I seldom say what I really mean. I’m really a pussycat. I just regurgitate dialogue from old Barbara Stanwyck movies to sound tough. Joan Crawford comes in handy too. You’d be surprised how often I can get away with lines from Alec Baldwin’s famous phone call rant to his daughter!” Polly took what she thought was a tough-guy stance and quoted, “‘In Sicily, women are more dangerous than shotguns!’”

Tim nudged his mother. “Um, that’s from
The Godfather.”

Captain Sheridan crossed his arms and said, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Polly made a face. “Question? Oh, publicity stunts, et cetera. Let’s step into my stateroom. The walls have ears, and too many cameras.”

Tim inserted his key card into the lock and led the way for his mother, Placenta, and the team of maritime personnel to crowd into the room.

Placenta uncorked a bottle of champagne and looked at the captain. “You’re out of luck. Housekeeping doesn’t provide enough glasses.” She then poured a drink for Polly.

“I’d share,” Polly said, “but Saul was telling me all about the icky germs people bring aboard ship. I wouldn’t want you to come down with some hideous virus that I may have brought from Hollywood.”

Captain Sheridan was exasperated. “There’s always at least one passenger on every voyage who I have to keep an extra eye on. This time, it’s you. From the moment we set sail, you’ve been at the center of every storm. First your cabin wasn’t big enough. Then your girlfriend was murdered. Then you started a monsoon of accusations subjecting an innocent man—an employee of the ship—to the embarrassment of having people think he was a killer. I’m forced to add another demerit to the file of one of my best deck stewards because he’s spending more time playing with
your son than serving the passengers. And now, our cruise director has to announce that the
Daily Wave
contained a belated April Fools’ Day joke because you didn’t die.”

“You’d be happy to see me die?”

Tim took a sip from Polly’s glass and said, “It’s early yet. The paper said she goes overboard at seven in the morning.”

The captain straightened. “Which brings me to why we’re joined by masters-at-arms Ronson and Garner.” He pointed to the two seamen dressed in the white uniform of ship’s officers. “They will be stationed outside your door. I’m confining you to this cabin until ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Polly swallowed the remainder of the champagne in her glass and set the flute down for a refill. “I’m a victim, not a criminal!”

Tim stepped in. “Mom, I think it’s for the best. You’ll be protected.”

“Lockdown is not the way to protect me,” Polly said. “Anyway, I haven’t actually been threatened by anyone.”

Placenta added, “It’s just for the night, Polly. You’re ready to go to bed anyway. When tomorrow comes, and you’re still breathing, we’ll regroup and investigate Laura’s killer.”

“If you so much as investigate rats in the galley, you’ll find yourself back in protective custody for the duration of this cruise,” Captain Sheridan grumbled. “Everybody out! Go to your respective staterooms and don’t try to return until late tomorrow morning. Miss Pepper is going to bed!”

Tim and Placenta gave Polly a kiss good night. As the trio engaged in a group hug, Polly said, “Cori and Rosemary. Find out what they know.”

“P
olly Pepper is the most fascinating person either of us will ever know, but frankly, her detention is our freedom,” Placenta said as she and Tim left Polly’s stateroom and walked toward the main bank of elevators.

“Some vacation. We should have known Polly would find herself in hot water,” Tim said. “Wherever Polly goes, dead people spoil the party.”

“And we get sucked into the final exit mess. Forget Polly’s investigation,” Placenta said. “I’m not spending the night on anybody’s tail—other than Lawrence’s. Let’s hit the piano bar and have a drink while he’s still playing. If you’re nice, I may introduce you to the bartender.”

“Been there. Done that.”

As the two stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the Promenade Deck, they talked in hushed tones about what they’d overheard Cori and Rosemary say regarding Polly “cashing in.” Tim shrugged and said, “We don’t really know that they were talking about Polly.”

“Who else?”

“Someone in the casino? I don’t know.”

When they arrived at the bar it was crowded with older couples dancing on the parquet floor, and singing along to
“The Twelfth of Never.” Tim and Placenta found seats on a long bench behind a small round table that was bolted to the floor. They were close enough for Placenta to see and be seen by Lawrence, who winked when she caught his eye. A cocktail waitress arrived and placed two napkins on the table before them. Tim looked at Placenta and said, “This one night, let’s
not
have champagne!”

“Right-o. A dirty martini, straight up,” Placenta said to the waitress. “Gin! Not vodka!”

“Same here.”

Humming along with “The Candy Man,” Placenta divided her attention between talking with Tim about the handsome sailors who were guarding Polly, watching Lawrence’s fingers dancing over the piano keyboard—and thinking of his fingers dancing around her navel. A particularly interesting couple at a table several feet away in front of them caught her eye. She nudged Tim and nodded in their direction. “Our friendly cruise director, and the lovely and talented Rosemary. They seem to be having a wee tiff.”

Tim and Placenta watched as Rosemary gave Saul a short but strong shove. As she rose to leave her seat, Saul grabbed her wrist and forced her to sit down.

“Ouch!” Tim flinched when he saw the pained expression on Rosemary’s face. “Let’s join the lively couple and see what’s up.”

Tim and Placenta made their way to Saul and Rosemary’s table. They came up from behind the pair and arrived just in time to overhear Saul complain, “We’ll all roast in hell.”

Rosemary sneered, “I’ll happily stoke the coals under your butt!”

“Plans for a barbeque?” Placenta squealed as she and Tim caught Saul and Rosemary by surprise. “I have a fab recipe for a chipotle and red wine barbeque sauce. It’s positively delish. I’ll give it to your executive chef. The passengers will mutiny for more!”

Saul looked away, and Rosemary fumbled to open a cosmetics compact to check her lipstick in the mirror. They remained quiet.

“I couldn’t help noticing your darling tennis bracelet from across the room,” Placenta said, pretending that admiring Rosemary’s jewelry was the reason for their visit. “A present? Did the bruise come with it?”

Rosemary quickly covered her wrist with her other hand. “It’s nothing,” she said, and gave Saul an elbow to his ribs.

“Such a crazy day! Death always makes me thirsty!” Tim said, attempting to engage them in conversation. He looked around for the cocktail waitress. “Ah! Perfect timing,” he said, as she found where they’d moved to, and set two martinis on the table. “Another round here.” He indicated Saul and Rosemary, and handed their margarita glasses to the waitress.

The objections from Saul and Rosemary came in a simultaneous burst of “Thanks, but no thanks.” However, Tim made a grand gesture of insisting on playing host and sent the waitress off to fill the order. “It’ll be fun,” he said. “We finally have a night without my mother.” He looked at Rosemary. “Did Saul tell you she’s been put away? Captain’s orders. And they’ve thrown away the key for the next twelve hours.”

Rosemary was snotty. “Probably a safety measure—protecting the other passengers. Your mother’s a little … eccentric.”

Placenta gave Rosemary an icy stare. “If you mean that in the same way that Saint Oprah is eccentric as she single-handedly saves the planet one free car giveaway at a time.”

Rosemary made a patronizing nasal sound and tried to squeeze out from behind the table. “I need to go. It’s been fun, but …”

Placenta did not budge. “Your drink’s on its way,” she said with a sharp edge to her voice. “Afterward, you can sleep like the dead.”

At the keyboard, Lawrence segued from “Little Green Apples” to “Weekend in New England.” Placenta sighed and raised her glass to the pianist. She looked at Saul. “Did you ever think about what song you’d like played at your funeral?”

The cruise director gave her a look that translated to unexpected wonder at her lack of tact.

“That’s a rather odd question,” Rosemary said, looking down her nose.

Placenta was unfazed. “Nonsense. One should be prepared for the inevitable. You’re dying. I’m dying. Saul’s going too. Heck, everyone on this boat will take a final breath someday. ‘I’m Still Here’ can’t always be your theme song.”

“I’m torn between ‘Send in the Clowns,’ and ‘Alone Again, Naturally,’” Tim said.