Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [27]
“This would be heaven,” she said as they returned to the sitting room and collapsed on the navy-blue couch, “if Magglio Cruz hadn’t died.”
Renie studied Judith’s worried face. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that if foul play was involved, we’ll be among the leading suspects?”
Judith grimaced. “I suppose that’s true. Even counting the crew members, not that many people are on board tonight.”
“When Joe finds out,” Renie noted, “he’ll pitch a five-star fit.”
“We’re only speculating about murder.”
“No matter how discreet,” Renie murmured, “this is bound to leak out to the media. Our mothers will be beside themselves.”
“There was no shot, no blood that Dixie noticed, probably no obvious wound.”
“Joe will never let you out of his sight again. You’ll become a virtual prisoner at Hillside Manor.”
“Was that piano always onstage? Or was it moved there just before we went into the cabaret? And why did Magglio Cruz disappear so quickly after we arrived?”
“I doubt that Joe will ever let you see me again. That’s an unbearable thought.”
Judith stared at Renie. “What did you say?”
“I said that Joe won’t ever—”
Judith waved a hand. “I know, I know. But I was only half listening. Dammit, you’ve got me going. But I’m not really getting involved.”
Renie sighed. “I know.”
“I mean it,” Judith reiterated.
“I got it,” Renie replied. “I already said I’d do it. It’s my money.”
“So you told me.”
“Stop it!” Judith barked.
Renie looked at the two clocks on the wall, which displayed only chrome hands and numbers. “I see we’re two hours ahead of the Cook Islands. It’s eight-fifty here and six-fifty there.”
“So what?”
“So it’s too soon to go to bed, even if we did get up early,” Renie explained, standing up and going to the minibar to check out the supplies. “Besides, I feel kind of wired. Ah, Pepsi. Good.”
“I feel very tired,” Judith replied. “I wouldn’t mind some of that bottled water, though.”
Renie removed the bottled water from the small fridge and handed it to Judith. “I think I’ll wander around the ship. You know, check out the spa and the swimming pool and the gym. See you later.”
“The gym?” Judith knew that Renie’s idea of exercise was elbowing other women out of the way at a Nordquist’s designer sale. “Hold it.” Wearily, she rose from the sofa. “I know what you’re up to, and you aren’t going alone. You know darned well it could be dangerous.”
Renie smiled. “How sweet of you, coz. Maybe we won’t walk very far. I wonder who these other suites are assigned to? I’ll check the passenger list. There should be one on the table with the menus and other cruise information.”
Sure enough, the passenger manifest was included with a ship diagram, safety regulations, navigational charts, and other helpful data.
“Erma and Anemone Giddon are in the W. C. Fields suite,” Renie noted. “Jim Brooks and Horace Pankhurst are across the way in the Ronald Colman and the Marx Brothers suites. Let’s start with the Giddons.”
But the moment the cousins entered the passageway, they saw Rhoda St. George, urging her wheezing Komondor to keep moving.
“Is that dog okay?” Judith asked.
Despite all the commotion, Rhoda’s stunning ensemble was impeccable, including the veiled hat, which remained firmly in place. “No, actually,” she said, with a fond glance at Asthma. “He was born with a respiratory condition. That’s why we could never show him—not that we really wanted to. It’s such a bother. Unfortunately, this breed is prone to allergies. They also have hip problems.”
“Who doesn’t?” Judith murmured.
Rhoda looked curious. “You do?”
Judith nodded. “I’ve had a hip replacement.”
“You move quite naturally,” Rhoda said. “Asthma will have to get two hip replacements after we return from this cruise. Are you a dog owner?”
“No,” Judith replied. “We have a cat.”
“Cats are very