[Scarlet Wilson 05] - Miz Scarlet and the Perplexed Passenger Read online

  Miz Scarlet and the Perplexed Passenger

  A Scarlet Wilson Mystery #5

  By Sara M. Barton

  Amazon Edition

  Copyright 2015 Sara M. Barton

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the authorized author, Sara M. Barton, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  What Makes This A Cozy Mystery?

  Cozy mysteries are a subgenre of crime fiction. Sex and violence are not usually important parts of the story; if they do occur, the reader is not normally privy to the action. Good-natured humor may be found in some cozies, like this one, but even when there may be murder most foul, there is not foul language -- only the mildest of profanity ever graces the pages of a cozy mystery.

  The term “cozy mystery” first emerged in the late 20th century, as modern authors sought a return to the Golden Age of Detective Fiction, in the tradition of Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, Dorothy L. Sayers, Josephine Tey, Frances Iles, Georges Simenon, Margery Allingham, Ngaio Marsh, and other masters of that era.

  The crimes in cozy mysteries usually take place within a close-knit community and the detectives are almost always amateurs, who just happen to have good contacts in law enforcement. This story does not stray from that format. It is both people- and pet-friendly.

  Acknowledgments --

  Thanks go to my editorial team, who serve me well: “Gull”, Dino, and Penny, story lovers all. Thanks also to Fiona Wallner at Angloscand HB.

  Scarlet Wilson Mystery Series Cast of Main Characters:

  -- Scarlet Wilson, former high school teacher-turned-innkeeper, AKA Miz Scarlet

  -- Laurel Wilson, Scarlet’s mother, AKA one of the Googins girls

  -- Kenny Tolliver, Scarlet’s heartthrob, formerly the public safety officer at Princeton University, now the regional head of Mercer Security, AKA Captain Peacock

  -- Dr. Thaddeus Van Zandt, retired surgeon and volunteer coroner

  Chapter One --

  “What was that?”

  Just as I got to the part of the story when my heroine snatched up the piece of evidence that would put her suspect away, my mother broke the spell. My eyes raced along the printed page, trying to keep up with the ever-daring Delia Delicato as she hunted for more clues in the mysterious disappearance of Josephina Agnelli, the elderly philanthropist. Did the blood on the knife belong to Josephina?

  “What was what?” I replied, continuing to read. I stretched my right leg, and then my left, before rearranging myself on the deck chair. Personally, I thought the culprit was Josephina’s nephew, Enrico. His Milan-based company just went belly up after a cyber theft ring exploited a security issue in his Sky Suitcase software, leaving behind thousands of victims; it drove his company into bankruptcy.

  “What was that thing that just went by?”

  “Huh?” I had no intention of tearing myself away from the adventure before me. I wondered how Enrico would have benefitted from his aunt’s estate. After all, rumor had it she had left the bulk of her money to her three children, even though she was estranged from her daughter, Aurelia, and thought the other two were spoiled sycophants merely biding their time until she passed. Could one of them have played a role in her vanishing?

  “Scarlet!” The alarm in my mother’s insistent voice finally broke through my addled brain and captured my reluctant attention. “I think someone just jumped.”

  “Jumped?”

  “Yes!”

  “Into the water?” I was stunned. We were, after all, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, sailing to Bermuda.

  “Of course into the water, Scarlet! We’ve got to do something!” She struggled to rise from her wheelchair, her hands grasping the railing.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” I was on my feet. “I don’t want you going overboard!”

  “Hurry up and look!”

  Leaning forward, I fastened my hands on the teak railing and scanned the churning waters below. My mother bumped against me in her attempt to make me her human crutch, as she tried to stand upright on legs that no longer functioned. Those terrified fingers of hers latched onto my forearm like a vice, tightening their hold on me.

  “Do you see anything?”

  “I’m looking, Mom. Give me a second.” Squinting against the bright, sunlit tableau, I continued to search for anything that didn’t belong in that dark blue sea. Sure enough, there it was -- a tiny figure with flailing arms and legs, dressed in blue shorts and a white shirt, bouncing on the buoyant ocean waves like a discarded Raggedy Andy doll.

  “Do something!”

  “Like what?”My mind went blank as I tried to come up with a plan. Should I scream? Should I holler up to the bridge, hoping one of the ship’s crew would hear me?

  “Scarlet!” My mother’s panic continued to escalate, a feeling I understood all too well. How could I get attention as quickly as possible? Should I pull the fire alarm, the one out in the hall? Think, for God’s sake! A man could be dying!

  “Stay here!” I instructed her. “Keep your eyes on the man, but do not lean over that railing!”

  I dashed into our cabin, tripping over myself to get to the room telephone, picked up the receiver, and with trembling fingers, punched at the buttons.

  “This is Gerta. How may I assist you?” said the calm voice on the other end.

  “Connect me to the security office! I have an emergency!”

  “One moment please.” I heard a click, followed by cheery calypso music as I was put on hold. A moment later, the tune ended abruptly and a gruff voice spoke.

  “Security.”

  “Man overboard!” I managed to get out. “He fell into the water!”

  “What?” There was a three-second pause as the man on the other end tried to comprehend what I was saying. “Where are you?”

  “I’m in Cabin 7620.” I gave him the details as quickly as I could, the answers coming fast and furious. “You have to stop this ship!”

  “Miss, can you still see him?”

  “Hold on. I’ll ask my mother.” Hollering in the direction of the open door, I relayed the question to her and waited for her to answer.

  “Yes, but he’s far away now! They have to hurry, Scarlet!”

  I passed this news on. Dread took over as I did the math in my head and tallied up the likelihood of a successful rescue mission. By the time they stopped the ship and dropped anchor, the poor man would be so far away, how would they ever find him?

  “We’re on it. Someone will be right up to speak with you,” said the security man. I could hear alarms blaring in the background.

  Hanging up the phone, I hurriedly joined my mother on the balcony. She pointed at the distant horizon. A tiny speck of white was all that remained of the floundering man.

  “Oh, this is terrible!” my mother moaned. “Tragic!”

  What could I say? She was right. How long could he stay afloat in those rolling seas? What if he can’t swim? If he did manage to tread water, that didn’t mean he’d survive. My mind began to imagine what would come next. No doubt the first responder on the scene would not be human. Th
e dreaded fin would pop up to the surface and the deadly predator would begin to circle its victim. Dun-dun...dun-dun...dun-dun.... Stop it, Scarlet. You’re only making things worse. How do you know some friendly dolphin won’t swim up to the guy and give him a ride back to the ship? My mind tried to remain optimistic in the face of overwhelming reality. I didn’t need anyone to tell me that the chances of a dolphin rescue were slim to none. Still, I wanted to believe that a fellow passenger from the ship had at least a fighting chance to survive such a horrible ordeal.

  The minutes seemed to drag on as we waited for some sign that the crew was mounting a rescue effort. Suddenly the ship gave a big shiver, causing us to sway back and forth. As those powerful engines slowed down, protesting the change in course, we fell against each other, our limbs entwined. After a few moments, the dull roar faded to silence, only to be replaced by anxious voices and then, a moment later, a loud siren. We watched the swirling water below us slap against the ship.

  “They’re launching a tender right now!” my mother announced. “And there’s another!”

  “Thank goodness.” I admit I was relieved to see the two vessels lowered into the water from their perches a few decks down from us.

  “Do you think there’s still time to rescue that poor man?”

  “I hope so, Mom.”

  We spent the next few minutes watching the boats cut through the rolling waves. They were almost out of sight when a knock came on the door.

  “Security!”

  I left the balcony, crossing the room at a trot, and opened the door to find four men standing there. I just happened to know one of them.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I was visiting with my old buddy when your call came in, Scarlet,” said Kenny, the man who was not only my traveling companion, but also the head of the regional office for Mercer Security, a private investigations firm. “It’s purely a coincidence.”

  “Oh.”

  “May we come in, miss? We have some questions.” A stick pretzel of a man gestured with his left hand. He was holding a tablet in his other hand.

  “Please,” I encouraged them, stepping back. “My mother’s still on the balcony. You’ll want to speak with her. She’s the one who saw what happened.”

  Laurel was grace under fire, reciting her observations without any of the usual drama of a witness to a tragedy being interviewed on the local news station for her fifteen minutes of fame. “Yeah, it was God-awful. First the guy does a 180 off the upper deck, right into the ocean. He hits the water, screaming ‘Save me!’ at the top of his lungs. I thought about jumping in to rescue him, but there were a bunch of sharks circling the guy. At least I thought there were sharks, because they had teeth the size of my fist!” Instead, she gave a succinct, bare bones description of what she saw, without emotional embellishment or editorializing. I chalked that up to the fact that she was in shock after such a traumatic experience. She seemed to regain some of her confidence as the questions continued.

  Fifteen minutes later, a cell phone buzzed. We all looked around the room to see who responded.

  “Schmidt here,” said an older man, rising from the edge of my bed. “Yeah, okay. I see. No, I’m here now questioning witnesses. Right. Yup, yup. Okay, will do.”

  I hung on every word, trying to decipher the gist of the conversation on the other end of the phone while my mother nervously passed the time plucking at the purple flowers of her cotton pants in search of non-existent lint. She finally looked up, still hopeful.

  “Kenneth, does this mean they rescued the man?” she wanted to know.

  “It’s hard to tell, Mrs. W. We’ll know soon enough,” he quietly replied. Another minute passed, with the tight-lipped Schmidt on hold. He wasn’t about to spill the beans until he was good and ready. “Yeah, I’m here. Give it to me.”

  He wiped his brow a couple of times and heaved a heavy sigh. Studying his face, I decided something must have gone very wrong. Did they find the man who went overboard or not? Was he still alive when they reached him, but later succumbed to his injuries? Maybe the shark hit a vital artery when he chomped on the poor man’s leg.

  “Right. How soon?” Another long pause had us waiting on tinder hooks. “Okay. We’ll be there to meet you.”

  Schmidt stood up, gave a little nod in the direction of the hallway and the other three men followed him out the door.

  “What’s going on?” I trailed after them, only to find Kenny blocking my path as I tried to squeeze out the door with the others.

  “Give us a minute, love.” His normally congenial face was tight with concern. “It’s important.”

  That minute dragged on endlessly, like a bad blind date. When Kenny finally returned, he wasn’t alone.

  “Laurel, this is Marley Hornsby. He needs to ask you some questions about what you saw.”

  A trim man, a few inches shorter and ten pounds lighter than my heartthrob, strode across the room with all the energy of a coffee addict in the midst of a caffeine buzz and made himself at home on my mother’s bed.

  “Of course,” my mother nodded. “Does this mean the man died?”

  “I’m afraid so, Mrs. Wilson.” Marley wore a blue-and-white seersucker shirt, charcoal pants, and black tassel loafers. A pair of black glasses perched on his nose; judging from the magnification of the lenses, I guessed he was farsighted. “Can you tell me what you were doing when the incident occurred?”

  “My daughter and I were sitting on the balcony. She was reading. I was enjoying the view.”

  “What happened to catch your attention?”

  “The man went flying past our balcony at a great rate of speed.”

  “Did you get a look at his face?”

  “Yes.” A little chill seemed to go through her as she revisited the memory of that moment. “His eyes were shut. You would have thought he’d be horrified that he was falling, wouldn’t you?”

  “Was his mouth open or closed?”

  “It was closed. He didn’t even scream.”

  “Did you notice anything odd about him?”

  “He didn’t seem...conscious. He went past us with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.”

  “Did either of you hear anything else, like any other passengers screaming or speaking?”

  “No,” my mother acknowledged.

  “No,” I agreed. “The only sounds I heard were a couple of seabirds squawking.”

  “It was a pair of storm petrels,” my mother, the bird lover, replied.

  “Well, it’s a good thing this happened in daylight,” Marley Hornsby told us. “We were able to recover the body.”

  “How sad for the family,” Laurel sighed. “Does he have a wife, a girlfriend, anyone at all?”

  “He does, a wife. They’ve only been married a few years. This was supposed to be an anniversary cruise.” The man got to his feet slowly, as if something weighed on his mind. “I need to ask you two ladies not to talk to anyone else about this. We’ve got investigators meeting us in Bermuda. I’m sorry to say that you’ll have to answer their questions. If you could both take a little bit of time now and write down what happened and what you observed, that will be helpful.”

  “Of course we will. His poor wife must be devastated,” she remarked. “What a horrible accident to have happen.”

  “It was no accident,” Marley Hornsby announced confidently. That information elicited a shocked gasp from my mother.

  “He deliberately took his own life?”

  That made absolutely no sense to me and I said as much. “Why would you spend all that money on a cruise, just to kill yourself?”

  “Oh, he didn’t kill himself,” the security man announced. “When we found him, he had a knife sticking in his back. He was dead long before he went over the railing.”

  “He was murdered?” my mother and I asked in unison. One look at Kenny and I knew this was the big secret.

  Chapter Two --

  “Oh dear me, we took this cruise to get awa
y from all the crime!” Laurel shook her head.

  She was right. It had been a tough year and a half for those of us residing at the Four Acorns Inn, our bed-and-breakfast back in Cheswick, Connecticut. The Wilson family has a knack for being dragged into danger. I think it’s in the genes. We had been menaced by a couple of unsavory creeps, a convicted killer, and a couple of wannabe hitmen, who tried hard to join the Murder-for-Hire Club. Luckily for us, they all failed. I tried to spin it, hoping to soothe her frazzled nerves, but unfortunately I did it with all the grace of the proverbial bull in the china shop.

  “It just goes to show you that we’re not attracting crime to the inn, Mom. It can happen anywhere.”

  “You’re suggesting it’s followed us here to Bermuda?”

  “No, um, what I meant was....”

  “Actually, Mrs. W., if it’s any consolation, this doesn’t look like a random crime. The killer probably knew his victim.” Kenny stepped in to rescue me as I tripped over my own tongue. And just as soon as he finished, I managed to roil the waters again by blurting out an obvious observation.

  “But doesn’t that mean the murderer is still on the ship?”

  “Well, yes.” So intense were those piercing eyes as Marley Hornsby scrutinized me, I felt as though I was the main course for dinner. Slather me with olive oil, garlic, and mustard, throw on a little salt and pepper, and you can call me Lamb Chop. This guy is a real wolf. “This is part of the reason we’ve asked you not to speak to anyone about what happened. We want to keep you safe until we get to port.”

  “You think the killer might come after us?” Laurel was clearly apprehensive. I heard the clamor of alarm bells ringing in the recesses of my mother’s mind. This was supposed to be a fun cruise for her. We weren’t due to arrive in Bermuda until morning. It was going to be a long night.

  “He might,” was the blunt answer. Marley’s gaze fell upon me again and, for a fleeting moment, I wondered if I’d be safer with the bad guy. How long is he going to keep this up? He’s starting to give me the willies.