Page 60 of Love Overboard
Collins yawned. “Security checked Amante as he got off the ship. You already know they didn’t find anything but souvenirs in that duffel bag he had on Nevis. He’s still clean. Sniffer dogs didn’t find anything either.”
Jon thumped his fist against a wooden crate.
“Take it easy.” The detective unwrapped a stick of gum and folded it into his mouth. “You can’t hit a home run every time.” He stumbled back as a cartload of luggage almost ran over his foot. “Is it always this crazy?”
“Turnaround day?” Jon nodded. “Disembarking thousands of people, cleaning their rooms, restocking the kitchens, and ushering on a whole new batch of passengers in a mere ten hours is like conducting a giant, noisy orchestra with suitcases.” He pushed the hair away from his forehead. “And for all we know, one of those suitcases leaving the ship has millions of dollars of cocaine stashed in it.”
“Don’t get frustrated. It’s possible there weren’t any narcotics this time.”
“Or we missed them because I was searching in the wrong place.” Jon scrubbed a hand across his face.
“Amante fit the profile. It was a natural mistake. Did you get any new information from the FBI investigation?”
“They found threatening emails on our former cruise director’s personal laptop that confirm he was involved in something nefarious but wanted out.”
“Must be why they killed him. Do you think they switched their operation to a different ship?”
“It’s possible. But my gut tells me Newberg wasn’t acting alone. Someone else on the MSBuckinghammust have helped. Maybe multiple people. This voyage, let’s focus our energy on the crew.”
“What is that, a thousand employees?” Collins blew a bubble with his gum and popped it. “Do we each take five hundred?”
“Don’t worry. I know a woman who can help. She’s smart and recognizes every person on this ship.”
But even as he said it, Jon’s nerves snapped like a piece of Collins’s gum. Was he roping Lacey into a dangerous undertaking? This drug business already cost one Monarch employee his life. But there were too many secrets between Lacey and him. He wanted to be as honest as possible, even if he couldn’t tell her all the details.
“We must ward off disaster.” Mr. Kapoor, the head manager, walked down the row of hostesses, giving his pre-board pep talk. “Be the front line of Monarch Cruises. As our great founder, J. P. McMillan, said in his last company memo, ‘Make them wish they didn’t have to go home.’”
Lacey waited with her posture stiff as a board. When he finished, the doors between the ship and the waiting passengers opened, and the noise from the pier floated into the room. She straightened the gold crown pin on her lapel and adjusted the purple scarf around her neck. Suitcase wheels rattled on the outside gangplank as a new round of passengers streamed into the main lobby.
“Welcome to the MSBuckingham.” She repeated the phrase over and over as she pointed people to the elevators and answered the same old questions.
“The buffet opens as soon as the lifeboat drill and orientation end.”
“You can ask the front desk about a room upgrade.”
“The golf instructor reserves any course you wish to play ahead of time.”
Her shoulders ached from holding them ruler-straight, but she remained at attention. The first impression these passengers received came from her greeting. She refused to disappoint them.
“Lacey-bell!”
Her head whipped to the receiving doors, and her vision tightened like one of those eerie camera shots in a horror movie. A handsome older man walked across the threshold, dressed in a cream linen suit and a straw safari hat. He held open his arms and waited as if he expected her to rush into them.
Lacey took a step back. “Dad?”
Women cast admiring glances at Ronald Anderson, still striking at fifty-eight, as they walked around him.
A frail woman stood at his side, grasping the handle of a carry-on bag. “Hello, honey.”
“Mom?”
Lacey’s father breezed over and picked her up around the waist, twirling her in a circle. “How’s my little girl?”
The ostentatious chandelier spun above her head. The front-desk workers whizzed past, and the musky scent of her father’s expensive cologne enveloped her. The last remnants of Lacey’s breakfast churned. She pressed her lips together in a tight line. Vomiting in the lobby was not an attractive option.
“Please put me down.” She wriggled in his grip. “People are staring.”
He dropped her to the ground and pushed his hat up his forehead. “Can’t a man be happy to hug his own daughter anymore?”
