She’d never thought of Jensen Hardy as a pouncing tiger, that was for sure.
Maybe a smitten kitten...but a pouncing tiger?
“Thank you,” Alexi said, determined to take Byron’s words as a serious warning.
How well did she really know Jensen, anyway?
Byron seemed pleased with himself. Casual and happy. He leaned against her door and shut his eyes. “We’re getting close. I can feel it. We’re going to catch this bastard.”
The ship swayed again, and Alexi fell backward, onto her bed.
Byron’s eyes flew open and he appeared to bounce away from the door. He seemed to fade, reappear and fade again.
“I’m watching, Alexi, I swear, always watching. I will not let him get near you.”
“You mean Jensen Hardy?”
“Him—or any of the others. Whoever the killer turns out to be.”
She smiled, righting herself.
She was grateful to have Byron watching over her.
* * *
In their office, Jude and Jackson were able to make contact with Angela for five minutes or so before the satellite went down. Angela told them that their investigation still hadn’t proved—or disproved—anything about the suspects’ movements at the various “murder ports.”
They were trying to figure out what the medallions might signify.
“I don’t think what the medallions themselves mean really matters,” Angela said. “I think it’s what they mean to the Archangel. We’re working on that angle, tracing family histories, schooling and so on, for each of the men who were in the cities at the times the murders occurred.
“How are you doing there?” she asked when Jude and Jackson had thanked her.
“We’re noticing some interesting behavior. Trouble in rich folks’ paradise, between Roger and Lorna Antrim,” Jackson said.
“And we also need to know if you’ve learned anything about Virginia Monk,” Jude added.
“She’s currently a student at Loyola. She’s been working on a bachelor’s for several years and we’re not clear on where her money’s coming from. She makes a lot of cash deposits on her bank account.”
“Stripper, I understand?” Jude asked.
“Could be,” Angela replied. “Which means there might not be any traceable income. We’ve learned she has an apartment in Metairie and lives alone. She doesn’t have a criminal record. She hasn’t sailed before, as far as we can tell. She booked through a travel agent and we’re checking on that agent now. Thing is, when you deal strictly in cash, you make it hard for anyone to follow your movements. If she has been working as a stripper or even a prostitute, someone has to have seen her. As soon as—”
Angela never got the rest out. The connection turned to static.
“Interesting,” Jackson murmured.
“You bet,” Jude agreed. “I’m not sure yet whether to be afraid for Ginny Monk—or for our dot-com millionaire.”
“So far, according to ship security, she goes back to her own cabin every night.”
“You said we’ve got a meeting with Beach and some of his people?”
Jackson glanced at his watch. “We do,” he said. “They’re due here right about now.”
During the meeting a few minutes later, Beach’s security men confirmed that there was, indeed, trouble in mega-rich paradise.
“Mrs. Antrim has spent a great deal of time in the infirmary and in their cabin by herself. On the other hand, quite a few passengers are staying in their cabins. The captain hasn’t closed down the ship’s activities yet, although he’s stopped the functions at the pool and assigned Jensen Hardy to create more bingo contests and the like in the main ballroom. As you requested, we’ve followed Roger Antrim religiously and discovered that he’s been seeing a lot of a Mrs. Flora Winters, cabin 615, on the Promenade Deck.”
Beach kept his face straight as he spoke.
“He’s been seeing her? Doing what?” Jackson asked.
“Nothing overt,” Beach said. Three of his men who weren’t following a suspect at the moment were in the meeting, as well. They all nodded.
“Is he especially...friendly?” Jackson asked.
“He’s not holding her hand or anything like that. He is signing her drinks to his tab and they’ve engaged in what looks like deep conversation,” Beach said. “None of us knows what they’ve been talking about.”
“We’ll see if we can get a little closer,” Jude said. “Anything to report on anyone else?”
“Simon Green’s spent most of his free time in his cabin. When he’s not there, he’s at rehearsals or in the employee cafeteria. We’ve kept a tight watch on the employee cabins. Nothing unusual,” Beach said and cleared his throat. He turned to Jude. “If we were just going by behavior, Special Agent McCoy, you’d be the most suspicious.”
Jude nodded. “Yes. I suppose I would be.”
“We’ve seen all the suspects return to their own rooms. Oh, except for one instance,” he said, checking his notes. “Jensen Hardy’s room is more toward the forward section of the cabins, and he was seen walking down to the central area where you and a number of the actors and musicians are staying.”
“What did he do there?” Jackson asked.
One of Beach’s men stepped forward and introduced himself. “Ben Eckles, sir.” Then he described what he’d seen. “Hardy just stood there and looked at the doors, and then...nothing. Oh, we also followed him late one evening. He went up to the chapel. He tried the door but it was locked.”
“We need you to keep a close eye on him,” Jude said.
“Yes, sir.” Eckles nodded vigorously. “Mark Naughton is following him, but Hardy’s running a bingo game in the Egyptian Room.”
“Is that it?” Beach asked, turning back to the agents.
“Yes. Thank you,” Jackson replied. “We all know you’re not convinced that we’re right about this. We want you all to know how much we appreciate your diligence.”
Beach acknowledged Jackson’s words.
Beach and his men trailed out of the office cabin, and Jackson glanced at Jude.
“Well?”
Jude sat there thoughtfully for a moment. “I don’t like Jensen Hardy,” he finally said. “I’m trying to discount that. But I’ve seen the way he looks at Alexi, and that scares me. And Roger Antrim—is he just going through a middle-age crisis and flirting to feel better about himself? Or is he lining up a victim?”
“When we get hold of Angela again, we’ll have to find out what we can about the woman he’s seeing.”
“What do you think about Ginny Monk?” Jude asked.
“She may have planned this trip in order to meet Osprey,” Jackson said.
“If she did some research on him, she might have found out that he usually sails alone, without a bevy of assistants or advisers. And, if so, she might’ve realized that this would be a prime opportunity to get to know the man—and seduce him.”
“I agree,” Jackson said. He gestured at the computer screen with disgust. “The ship’s going onto emergency status pretty soon,” he said. “May be good, may be bad. If everyone’s in his or her cabin except for the necessary crew, at least the women aboard will be safe.”
“Let’s hope.” Jude got to his feet. “I’m going to see what I can find out from Lorna. I went in to see how she was doing at the infirmary yesterday. I’ve got a bit of a connection with her—I think. I’ll see what she can tell me.”
Jackson nodded. “And I’ll see if I can engage Ginny in a discussion while you’re at it.” He opened the desk and produced a square black object. “Walkie-talkie,” he told Jude. “Computers are down, and that means the cell phones will be out. These are clunky and awkward, but they’ll work.”
* * *
Alexi grew restless.
She couldn’t work on her computer; nothing was coming in.
She tried calling Jude; there was no cell phone reception.
She bathed, washed and dried her hair and paced the cabin.
Byron Grant was gone, and she doubted he’d reappear for a while.
Clara hadn’t come to Alexi’s room, because they were supposed to stay in their own, orders of Jude McCoy. The captain hadn’t put the ship in lockdown yet, but Alexi felt as though it had already happened.
Finally, so much time had passed and Alexi was so on edge that she cracked open the door to her cabin. She looked both ways down the hall and saw no one.
Just when she was about to step out, Jude came walking down the hallway.
He was frowning at her. “Alexi, I told you not to open the door!” he said.
“I’m sorry, but you didn’t come back. And I’m worried about Clara. And isn’t there supposed to be a security man assigned to this hall? That means I should be safe enough checking on Clara!”
“Don’t you understand the risks?” he shouted. “Death. You might face a terrible bloody death!”
“I do understand that, but if you expect me not to worry about a friend in the same situation, you’re flat-out crazy,” she told him angrily. “Have some faith in me! I was just stepping into the hall—where there should be a security man!—to check on my friend.”
He was equally frustrated and angry, Alexi realized. But when she thought that he’d blow up again, he went silent.
“Stay there!” he snapped.
“Hey!” she protested as he walked down the hall.
It was a very long hallway. He walked the entire distance; she could see him retreating, and then coming back, eventually striding in the opposite direction, all the way to the stern.
He returned, looking perplexed.
Before she could say anything, he pulled out a black box that had to be a walkie-talkie. It was. He sounded terse as he spoke to someone, presumably Jackson, on the other end.
“I’m telling you, there’s no one down here,” he said. “I’ve been up and down the length of the ship.” He listened to whatever Jackson was saying.
Then he turned to her. “You want to get out of the cabin? Fine, let’s go pick up Clara. You two can play bingo.”
“Bingo?” she said with dismay.
“And keep an eye on Jensen Hardy while you’re there.”
“Really?” Alexi demanded. “If Jensen’s leading a bingo game, I imagine an awful lot of people will have their eyes on him.”
“Alexi, damn it, will you just play bingo?”
She crossed her arms. “Do you realize, Jude, that I know all these people better than you do? And that if they need to be drawn out, if someone needs to speak with them, it should be me?”
He lowered his head and she guessed he was fighting for control. Either that, or maybe he was actually considering her words.
He looked at her again. “Alexi, I have no idea where the security man is, the guy who was supposed to be watching this floor. If he’s disappeared...”
“Could he be in the men’s room?”
“Then he would’ve reappeared by now, don’t you think?”
“Check the hall again,” she suggested.
He stepped back outside; she did, too.
It was easy to see forward.
And aft.
And, as he’d said, there was no one.
“Hold on a minute,” he told her.
As she watched, he knocked on Ralph Martini’s door. A minute later Ralph answered sleepily, still wearing his robe.
“Yeah?” he asked, puzzled.
“Just making sure you’re okay,” Jude said.
“I was. I was sleeping,” Ralph said. He frowned. “Anything new? Anything with the storm?”
“We’ll be battening down soon,” Jude said. “That’s all.”
“Keep us informed, huh?”
“Absolutely,” Jude promised. “Is Larry in there with you?”
“No, he’s in his own room,” Ralph said. “He’s fine. He, uh, left here a little while ago.”
Alexi waved to Ralph, who rolled his eyes and smiled. Apparently, he—and the others—knew exactly where Jude was sleeping.
Jude went on, knocking at select doors. Simon Green was next, and he seemed perfectly okay. He was playing show tunes on an iPod or other sound system; “Oklahoma!” sounded from his cabin as he opened his door. Alexi saw him nod, then go back inside.
It took Larry a few minutes to come to his door. He must’ve been in the shower, since he was draped in a towel. Larry seemed bewildered, but in the end, he, too, nodded—and seemed to appreciate Jude’s visit.
Jude returned to Alexi’s door and said, “Let’s go get Clara. Will the two of you play bingo? Please?” he added quietly. “I know you’ll be safe while you’re in a crowd—and that way you can observe Hardy for us, too.”
“All right, all right,” she said, feeling aggrieved. “Bingo. Great.”
They went over to Clara’s cabin and tapped on her door. She threw it open, saying, “I checked. I checked the peephole. I knew the two of you were the ones at the door.”
“Excellent,” Jude said.
“He wants us to play bingo,” Alexi told her.
“Oh,” Clara responded, looking from Alexi to Jude. She grimaced. “We’re not actually allowed to play bingo. Ship’s rules.”
She hadn’t known that, since the question had never come up for her. She wasn’t much of a gambler, period. The only time she’d ever played bingo was at a church charity.
“There!” Alexi smiled at Jude, relieved. “We can’t play bingo.”
“Yes, you can, when a ship’s executive says he’s sending you in to help out with passenger entertainment due to the storm,” he said pleasantly.
Alexi realized she was going to play bingo, whether she liked it or not. And she didn’t.
“Bingo. Can’t wait,” she said with a sigh of resignation.
They took the elevator up to the ballroom, where a large crowd had gathered. Shelly Moore, one of Jensen’s crew, was assisting him, but she seemed a little overwhelmed.
Jensen was speaking to the group, some ready to play, and some still in line buying cards.
“We’ll be going for a straight line down the middle this time around,” he announced. “Remember, not just any old bingo—a straight line down the center. Now, this is the Celtic American line, the Destiny!” he said. “If we don’t make our stop in Belize, everyone on the ship will be getting a free cruise to replace this one, even though we’re not responsible for acts of God. That’s the Celtic American way! But whoever wins this game gets an upgrade to a suite on their next voyage!”
He stopped speaking, aware that Jude, Clara and Alexi had entered the ballroom. He looked at the three of them with annoyance.
Jude walked between the rows of tables to reach Jensen first. “I’ve brought a couple of the entertainers to help out.”
“Clara and Alexi?” Jensen asked warily.
“Yes.”
“You’re, uh, leaving the two of them with me?”
“Yes.”
“And you...”
“I have other business,” Jude said.
“Oh.” Jensen’s expression was blank at first. Then he grinned. “I can certainly use the help. I have my other people running around, going from cabin to cabin with news sheets for the passengers. Everything’s topsy-turvy because of the storm.”
“Of course. And Celtic American understands,” Jude said agreeably.
“Can one of you give me a hand with the game sheet sales and the other one check the winners, confirm that the cards match the letters?”
“I’ll do sales,” Clara said.
“I guess I’m the checker,” Alexi chimed in.
“See you all after bingo,” Jude told them.
She watched as he left. He definitely had his sea legs.
And that was impressive because the Destiny was rolling even more heavily than it had been before.
* * *
Jude got hold of Jackson as he walked down the hall, taking the stairs to the higher decks.
There was something very wrong with the fact that their assigned security guard wasn’t on duty in the employee sector—where one of their three suspects and at least two potential victims were staying.
“I’ll talk to David Beach and we’ll start a search,” Jackson said.
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Yeah, I do, too,” Jackson said. “Over and out.”
“Over and out.”
Jude shut down his walkie-talkie.
He wasn’t sure how to separate Roger and Lorna Antrim, since he needed to speak with Lorna alone. He’d try their cabin first, see what kind of arrangement he could make.
Cabin? Suite!
When he knocked on the door, Roger answered. “Mr. McCoy.”
“It’s Jude, please.”
“Jude. Come on in. Have you seen a salon like this? Oh, but you must have, being with Celtic American.”
“Actually, I’ve never seen this particular salon,” Jude said politely.
It was one hell of a salon.
Roger, dapper in a velvet-and-silk dressing gown, his gray hair still damp from the shower, made a sweeping gesture and gave him a tour of the lower level. “Piano here—hey, it would be fun to get Alexi Cromwell up here for a private party sometime, huh? Anyway, mini-kitchen there, meeting room in there, parlor area, games table—and all that balcony space over there is mine. Two bedrooms upstairs.”
Jude could hardly imagine what accommodations like this would cost on a ship.
“Very nice,” Jude murmured. “We’re delighted that you’re pleased with it.”
“There aren’t many ships as grand as this,” Roger said. “With such old-world elegance. The Destiny is a special ship, indeed. We’ve always loved sailing on her. Well, except for this trip, but that’s not the ship’s fault, eh? No one can predict nature. Other than Lorna being so sick, I rather like the fact that nature is still stronger than any of us—any politician, any government, even our most advanced technology.”