I shifted my gaze away and ate. “Good red beans,” I said, watching my food as though afraid a cucumber or red bean might try to escape.
“I’ll tell the chef.”
“Please do.” I kept my eyes down. He was just a man, I told myself, and he knew exactly what he wanted from life. I, however, did not.
You know what you want. I’m going to continue to rediscover Cealie
, I mentally told him, as I had said aloud before we parted. The wife and mother part of me had lost the knowledge that it was okay to do things only because I wanted to. But now I was regaining that awareness.
I looked him in the eye, meeting as equals and not as man and woman sexually drawn to each other, and lifted a forkful of rice and beans. “Well seasoned.”
He watched my lips. I felt squeamish under his gaze, until he reached over and with a napkin, wiped the corner of my lips. And peered at my eyes.
I thrust my fork down, ready to say I was going for dessert—but Gil’s grin let me know what he would suggest if I said that.
“Did you get to speak with your uncle?” I asked.
“I did. I asked him about the man who died and Sue.”
“Did he think she hurt herself on purpose so she could get down to the emergency room and find out about Jonathan?”
Gil sipped his water. “He said he can’t give out personal information. It’s confidential.”
I blew out a sigh. “Did he say anything about Sue?”
“Yes, he’s definitely interested.”
“Good. What does he think about her? Does he have any idea about motives? No, I don’t mean that. I don’t really believe she hurt the man or even saw him after we met him on the Lido Deck. But what did your uncle think? And what do you mean—he’s interested? Does he want to know more about her surgery?”
“From what I gather, he’d like to make intimate contact—and possibly discover that information for himself.”
Chapter 7
“Gil!” I said, choking on my tea.
“What? You asked. That is what I believe Uncle Errol wants. He seemed genuinely interested in your aunt.”
“This is too strange. When did he meet her? Only when she went to his office with her hurt eye?”
“As far as I know. And I only know that because you told me.”
“Good grief, what does he see in her?”
“She is a stunning woman. And he’s a single man. Divorced.” Gil seemed to take delight in this weird conversation.
I leaned toward him. “Doesn’t he know she used to be a man?”
“Not until I told him just now. Obviously Sue doesn’t announce it to everyone who bandages her cheek.”
“And what did your uncle say?”
“That information seemed to make him more intrigued.”
I threw my arms up. “Men!”
His grin widened.
His uncle, the ship’s doctor, surely knew about transgendered individuals and how troubling their unique situations must make them. Either he didn’t care, or more probably Gil was teasing me, making up the whole thing.
My classmates were rising, their plates nearly empty. Tetter glanced at me, her expression bland—the usual for this trip. I needed to be around her to try to help her become our old buddy Tetter again. Surely that fun girl was still under that troubled demeanor.
“I need to go,” I told Gil. “My friends are leaving.”
“I hope I’ll see you later.”
I evaded answering by wiping my mouth with my napkin. I stood. “I don’t guess your uncle believes Sue could have hurt Jonathan.”
“Probably not. I doubt that he’s kinky enough to want to date a killer.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You men seem to like women, no matter what.”
“You do have a point.”
I shook my head and headed for my classmates, not believing for a minute that he was serious about his uncle being interested in my aunt. I caught up with the last person, Randy. He glanced at me, a little fear in his eye, probably thinking I’d hurt him again. I moved beyond him and fell into step with Tetter. Moving faster ahead, Jane kept up with Sue’s long strides.
“Where is everybody going in such a hurry?” I asked Tetter.
“There’s an art preview at the other end of the ship.”
“Who’s interested in buying art?”
“I don’t know. But you can register to win a piece. And there’s free champagne.”
We hustled to the opposite end of the ship, signed in, and were asked if we wanted a number so we could bid for pieces. We looked at each other and shook our heads. We were only there for entertainment, art, and champagne. I would sit close to Tetter. Maybe she’d have a drink or two and then open up about her troubling situation.
A waitress offered champagne, which we all accepted. We walked around and scanned intriguing and exotic paintings on easels grouped in the rear. An attractive woman wearing a suit asked everyone to sit so the bidding could begin.
Jane led the way midway down steps to circular benches and sat. Sue took the next seat and Tetter went next. I tried to scoot behind her, but Randy shoved in and beat me. The only seat left was beside him. I didn’t get close. Otherwise I might need to really hurt him.
Immediately, Tetter waved for a server and exchanged her already-empty stemmed glass for another one. The rest of us sipped our first drinks.
A man wearing a black suit set a large painting on an easel. The scene was busy, filled with too much activity for me. People in front of us bid. So did a few others to the side. A young woman purchased the art for three hundred twenty dollars.
As a smaller painting was carried to center stage, Tetter snapped her fingers for the attention of a server with a tray of champagne glasses, some filled but most empty. “Another one, please.” Tetter raised her index finger.
Randy grabbed her finger. He placed her hand against his cheek and grinned.
She smiled back at him.
What was this? The champagne was already going to my head, making me slightly tipsy. Maybe that also happened to Tetter. I’d have to watch her so things wouldn’t get out of hand with our male classmate.
Our group passed their empty glasses to me, and I handed them to our server. She gave me full glasses for all in return.
Beside me, Randy snuggled closer to Tetter. She did not seem to mind and even giggled. She was beginning to resemble the Tetter I’d known from school—always laughing, sometimes a bit of a flirt. But back then she hadn’t been happily married.
“We’ll start at three hundred on this piece.” The auctioneer aimed a pointer at a tranquil country scene with a bright blue outdoor table that kept drawing my eye to it. The spot of crimson flowers on a trellis near a fence made me also keep looking there. I understood why bidders might want this picture that sold for five hundred dollars to a woman on my right. I glanced behind to see other bidders.
Gil sat three rows back, lowering his card with the number twenty-seven.
I scooted back to sit with him. “You were bidding on that pretty picture,” I said.
“I thought you might like it. But that other woman seemed to want it so much I decided to let her have it.”
The woman he was so kind to rose on spiky red heels and sashayed over to sign for the painting. One section of her platinum hair fell to the plunging front of her dress.
“What a nice person you are,” I told Gil.
He nodded with a grin. “If you’d want any painting here, I figured that would be it. But I wasn’t sure you would want one. That woman did.”
Sue and Jane left their places and with a few others, headed for the exit. Sue rolled her eyes at us. She sauntered on her own strappy heels toward the door.
Gil watched with a man’s look of admiration. He faced me, raising his eyebrows. “Hmm, nice,” he said, giving his head a nudge toward the exit.
“Oh, come on. She was a he.”
“Still, she doesn’t look bad.”
“Gil, she’s my aunt—who used to be my uncle.”
He chuckled. “Okay, I’ll leave her alone.”
“Good,” I said, almost certain he’d been kidding about being attracted to her.
The auctioneer snagged my awareness by speaking quite loudly, showing off her new offering, a hideous canvas covered with scattered bits of body parts.
I elbowed Gil. “I’m concerned,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“What’s wrong?” His forehead wrinkled.
“Look at them.” I jabbed my finger toward Tetter and Randy, who remained behind after other classmates left. The pair happily laughed with each other. As bidding began, Tetter gave her empty stemmed glass to a passing waitress, giggled with Randy, and accepted a new glass of champagne.
“What’s the problem there?” Gil asked me.
“Look at them. They seem giddy with each other.”
He leaned his forehead against mine. Dropping his finger to my neckline, he pulled my top open an inch and peeked inside. “I like giddy.”
“But they’re married. And not to each other.”
He shook his head. “I know you’d like to save the world and keep everyone on the right path. But you can’t control everyone, especially in the area of romance.”
“But—”
“I know. Your inner urges tell you you’re in charge of fixing up couples.”
“I do not. But Tetter is in a good marriage. She told me so,” I insisted as bidding increased on the body parts splattered on canvas.
Gil was giving me his annoying smirk.
“What?” I said.
He blew in my ear. “Stay out of other people’s love lives.”
I drew my head back. “I’ve fixed up some great couples.”
“You did. What about the last ones you tried to fix up?”
“Look at what’s happening this time.” I yanked up his hand holding the card.
“Nine hundred once, twice, sold!” called the exuberant auctioneer. “This beautiful piece goes to bidder number twenty-seven.”
Gil peered at his card with the winning numerals. He stared at me.
I lowered his hand. “What a lovely piece you bought. I hope you have the perfect place to put it.” I marched out of the room. Away from him, I giggled. I knew the exact place I would put that canvas. Face down, under my bed, terrifying roaches.
Satisfied with having tricked Gil, I considered the flirtatious looks he gave the curvaceous platinum blonde that he allowed to buy the artwork he’d almost bought for me. He’d given similar admiring glances to Sue.
Disgruntled, I wondered how I might fix myself up to resemble them. I wasn’t jealous. Gil recently accused me of wearing a jealous streak. Never!
What could I wear that might help me look better? Plastic surgery was out of the question. It couldn’t happen fast enough. I was too chicken anyway to have people cut me unless it was needed to save my life. I could easily have my hair colored but changed it often anyway, so much so I wasn’t sure what color it really was.
I’d walked off of carpet and now strode across white ceramic, I realized by the
clop-clop
of heels on the harder floor. The louder sound made me also look at people’s shoes. Women’s shoes.
Gil had been taken with those two attractive women who’d left the art auction. One thing that added to their bearing was their height. My five feet two inches would not make any male notice me next to women like that unless he was a little boy. Most females striding past me wore shoes with much height, even on flip-flops.
That’s what I needed. Heels.
High
heels. With slender straps crossing my ankles.
Exasperation came, and I slowed. A man just died on this ship—how horrible was that? And I was concerned about how I looked? His death was much more important. But as of this moment, I didn’t know what I could do about it.
I stepped around a
Watch Your Step
sign, one of many posted today. Maybe other people had perished on this boat. Jonathan Mill may have died from natural causes, but he seemed so young. Jitters skittered around in my chest like Mexican jumping beans because of my true belief. Someone killed him.
I needed to make certain that person was not someone I knew.
Sweat dampened my palms. I swiped them across something black in front of me, then noticed it was a satin gown. The gown hung on a rod next to a tall vat holding a jillion jellybeans.
“Can I help you?” The speaker was one of those spry young women in the ship’s uniform.
I smiled, becoming fully aware that I’d detoured into the glass-fronted shop that sold formal wear. “This is a lovely gown. I don’t see a price tag.” I wasn’t interested in buying a gown but needed to comment.
“This one’s been worn before. It’s a rental. You can rent formal items here, like for formal nights. We also have many items you can purchase.”
This was my kind of store. I could rent clothes and not have to lug them around. The only problem was that the rental shop carried only formals. And lots of candy—especially fine chocolates—and flowers to send to someone special.
I spent a few minutes inside and then left the shop with my purchase under my arm and a smirk draped on my face. Gil might like his women tall—although I did not care what he liked. Tonight the ship would hold its first formal night. I needed to get to my stateroom and practice walking. I might not be as striking as my aunt when our group promenaded this evening, but I refused to wear sparkles and have to take baby steps to keep up with them. Maybe I’d run into Gil during the evening, or I could run into a killer. Either way, I would present myself as a lethal figure in my brand new stilettos.
Chapter 8
Back in my stateroom, I showered, shampooed with exotic-scented shampoo, and stepped on a rug to dry myself. Someone knocked on my door.
I wrapped myself in a thick robe and checked the peephole.
“Jane,” I said, letting her in. I glanced out, satisfied not to see Tetter so I could speak with Jane alone.
“What time will you be ready? Maybe we can all have a drink together before dinner.” She skimmed my room. “This is so nice and roomy since you don’t have a roommate.” She rolled her eyes and sat on a cushioned side chair.
“I’ve wanted to ask about
your
roommate. Have you discovered what Tetter’s big problem is?”
“She hasn’t told me.”
“You must have an idea. You asked me to come and meet with high school buddies on this cruise, and we’d help Tetter solve a major problem.”