gaze.
“She, um, sort of looked like me.”
“Did you get in touch with the authorities in Puerto Rico?” Vail interrupted. Marla gave him a startled glance. He might not appear to be involved, but his mind must be running in detective mode. Force of habit, she thought with a smirk.
“Yes, sir. They are conducting a search, but no one answering her description has come forward.” Carl returned his attention to Marla. “Can you tell me which areas on the ship Ms. Shore liked to frequent?”
“I didn’t really know her that well. I ran into her on the bridge tour, and she seemed interested in the talk. Elsewhere? We didn’t come across her in any of the lounges. Maybe she liked to hang out in the casino. I don’t gamble, so I don’t spend time in there. Nor do I make use of the spa.”
“Did the lady have any medical complaints?”
“How would I know? I just said we were barely acquainted.” Her brain registered his words. “Oh, do you think she might have gotten sick on shore and sought medical help?”
“It’s possible.”
“Will anybody check the hospitals? I mean, how awful to be stuck in a foreign place alone and to become ill.”
“It’s being covered. Now, can you tell me who else Martha Shore associated with on the ship, besides her roommate and the other two people mentioned earlier?”
Holding up her hand, Marla counted on her fingers. “Cliff Peters and Brooklyn Jones. They’re assigned to her table in the dining room. Along with Helen, plus the folks at our dinner table—they all work for an art museum in Tampa,” she told the officer. “Did Helen inform you that they received their tickets courtesy of an unknown benefactor? And how we’ve been getting private invitations to the art auctions on board?”
“That’s not so unusual,” Carl said, “especially if these people work in the art field together.”
“Someone on the ship’s crew must know about them,” Marla persisted. “Someone like the ship’s auctioneer, who previously had been employed as curator at the museum.”
“He left the Tampa facility months ago,” Vail pointed out. “How would he have kept up with the employees and volunteers?”
“Beats me, but someone brought them here for a reason.”
Carl interjected, “Is there anyone else whom Ms. Shore associated with, to your knowledge?”
Ignoring him, Marla addressed her fiancé. “Should I tell him about the note?”
Vail shrugged. “Why not? But make it quick. We have to meet the tour group outside.” He tapped his watch for emphasis.
At the last minute, they’d signed up for the excursion to Coral World after arguing whether they should do Blackbeard’s Castle, Magen’s Bay, or spend the entire time shopping. Dalton had balked at the latter, while Brianna had wanted to explore snorkeling. They’d finally compromised when Kate and John said they would like to visit the underwater observatory.
Marla had saved the original note from their cabin door. She pulled it from her purse and unfolded the worn sheet of paper. “This was addressed to Martha, same as the private invitations to the auctions that I received. At first, I assumed my name had been spelled incorrectly, but when I met the other people from the museum, I realized I must’ve been getting messages meant for Martha.”
“I see,” Carl said, taking the paper from her hand and scrutinizing it. “Any idea what this means?”
“No clue. I haven’t really discussed this particular message with any of our tablemates, and I hesitated to bring it up to Martha. Those words could mean anything, but they sound sinister to me.”
Especially since Martha has gone missing.
CHAPTER 7
Marla passed through the security gate toward Havensight Mall, where people congregated with their tour groups. St. Thomas had so many choices of things to do that in her opinion, it was easiest to do nothing and go shopping. But she had never been to the island and confessed to a curiosity about the
“She, um, sort of looked like me.”
“Did you get in touch with the authorities in Puerto Rico?” Vail interrupted. Marla gave him a startled glance. He might not appear to be involved, but his mind must be running in detective mode. Force of habit, she thought with a smirk.
“Yes, sir. They are conducting a search, but no one answering her description has come forward.” Carl returned his attention to Marla. “Can you tell me which areas on the ship Ms. Shore liked to frequent?”
“I didn’t really know her that well. I ran into her on the bridge tour, and she seemed interested in the talk. Elsewhere? We didn’t come across her in any of the lounges. Maybe she liked to hang out in the casino. I don’t gamble, so I don’t spend time in there. Nor do I make use of the spa.”
“Did the lady have any medical complaints?”
“How would I know? I just said we were barely acquainted.” Her brain registered his words. “Oh, do you think she might have gotten sick on shore and sought medical help?”
“It’s possible.”
“Will anybody check the hospitals? I mean, how awful to be stuck in a foreign place alone and to become ill.”
“It’s being covered. Now, can you tell me who else Martha Shore associated with on the ship, besides her roommate and the other two people mentioned earlier?”
Holding up her hand, Marla counted on her fingers. “Cliff Peters and Brooklyn Jones. They’re assigned to her table in the dining room. Along with Helen, plus the folks at our dinner table—they all work for an art museum in Tampa,” she told the officer. “Did Helen inform you that they received their tickets courtesy of an unknown benefactor? And how we’ve been getting private invitations to the art auctions on board?”
“That’s not so unusual,” Carl said, “especially if these people work in the art field together.”
“Someone on the ship’s crew must know about them,” Marla persisted. “Someone like the ship’s auctioneer, who previously had been employed as curator at the museum.”
“He left the Tampa facility months ago,” Vail pointed out. “How would he have kept up with the employees and volunteers?”
“Beats me, but someone brought them here for a reason.”
Carl interjected, “Is there anyone else whom Ms. Shore associated with, to your knowledge?”
Ignoring him, Marla addressed her fiancé. “Should I tell him about the note?”
Vail shrugged. “Why not? But make it quick. We have to meet the tour group outside.” He tapped his watch for emphasis.
At the last minute, they’d signed up for the excursion to Coral World after arguing whether they should do Blackbeard’s Castle, Magen’s Bay, or spend the entire time shopping. Dalton had balked at the latter, while Brianna had wanted to explore snorkeling. They’d finally compromised when Kate and John said they would like to visit the underwater observatory.
Marla had saved the original note from their cabin door. She pulled it from her purse and unfolded the worn sheet of paper. “This was addressed to Martha, same as the private invitations to the auctions that I received. At first, I assumed my name had been spelled incorrectly, but when I met the other people from the museum, I realized I must’ve been getting messages meant for Martha.”
“I see,” Carl said, taking the paper from her hand and scrutinizing it. “Any idea what this means?”
“No clue. I haven’t really discussed this particular message with any of our tablemates, and I hesitated to bring it up to Martha. Those words could mean anything, but they sound sinister to me.”
Especially since Martha has gone missing.
CHAPTER 7
Marla passed through the security gate toward Havensight Mall, where people congregated with their tour groups. St. Thomas had so many choices of things to do that in her opinion, it was easiest to do nothing and go shopping. But she had never been to the island and confessed to a curiosity about the
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