Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [22]
Renie glared at Judith. “I don’t believe this. Maybe it’s really an act.”
Erma Giddon was fanning herself with a lace-edged handkerchief. “Trouble follows Rick and Rhoda St. George just like their loathsome dog,” she said, without making eye contact with the cousins. “They’re like characters out of a 1930s detective movie. Why everyone makes such a fuss over that pair, I’ll never know.”
“I like them,” Renie declared, at her most contrary.
Still not looking at the cousins, Erma sniffed. “They’re frivolous, shallow dilettantes.”
Renie pulled Judith out of Erma’s hearing range. “Aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to find out what’s going on?”
Judith shook her head. “The less I know, the better. In fact, I think we ought to get off this ship. Now.”
“I can’t.” Renie’s expression was bleak.
Angrily, Judith grabbed her cousin’s arm. “What do you mean, you can’t? We’ve got to leave while everyone is distracted.”
“I mean,” Renie said grimly, “that I have to know who’s in that piano. It could affect my livelihood.”
Judith noted that a half-dozen white-coated waiters had surrounded the piano to keep the guests at bay. The cabaret was cloudy with cigarette and cigar smoke, as if the city’s famous fog had crept inside the ship. Rick St. George was holding a hysterical Connie Cruz in his arms. “I’m afraid,” Rick said, “that Magglio Cruz is dead.”
Gasps went up from the other guests. Judith started for the cloakroom. “That’s it. We’re out of here.”
Renie, looking grim, didn’t budge. “I knew it. There goes my retainer.”
“Coz!” Judith exclaimed. “Don’t say things like that!”
Renie shrugged. “We need the money. We have children, remember?”
“Fine,” Judith snapped. “You stay. I go.” She kept moving.
Captain Swafford’s voice boomed out: “No one leaves the premises! No one leaves the ship! I’m posting a senior officer at the gangplank in case anyone tries to disembark. This is a serious matter.”
Incredulous voices broke out in the saloon. One of them was Judith’s. “Damn!” She grabbed Renie by the arm. “It’s your fault! If you’d come with me a few minutes ago, we could’ve escaped!”
“If Bill had come with me, you wouldn’t be here acting like a twit!” Renie shot back. “Bill knows the importance of making a buck!”
Judith forced herself to simmer down. Briefly, she glanced toward the stage. Connie had collapsed in Rick’s arms and was being carried to a divan at the far side of the room. Dixie was on her feet, walking to the same divan with the aid of Jim Brooks. Captain Swafford, Rick, and Émile were conferring near the piano.
“Okay,” Judith said in a reasonably calm voice, “your father was a seagoing man. Is there a way to get off of a ship other than via the main gangplank?”
“Sure,” Renie retorted. “Jump and swim. Or would you prefer lowering a lifeboat?”
Judith’s expression turned sour. “You can’t swim.”
“So? I’m not leaving.”
Frustrated, Judith gazed around the cabaret. Anemone clung to her mother; Horace Pankhurst was sweating more profusely; Paul Tanaka looked utterly stunned. Between sips of her martini, Rhoda St. George offered words of encouragement—or condolence. CeeCee Orr had lighted two cigarettes at once and was drinking out of a fifth of vodka. Maybe, Judith thought unkindly, she’d pass out, too.
Renie was moving slowly toward the stage. Reluctantly, Judith followed.
“Look, Skipper,” Rick was saying, “I know one of the big wheels at police headquarters. Biff McDougal is tops when it comes to discreet investigations. With his help we can avoid damaging publicity.”
Horace Pankhurst spoke up from the stage’s edge. “As an attorney, I must advise you, Captain, to take all precautions against lawsuits that might arise from this unfortunate accident. It is an accident, isn’t it?”
An accident, Judith thought. That would be good. Except, she realized, not for Magglio Cruz.
“We’ve called in the ship’s doctor,” Swafford replied.