Deadly Reunion (18 page)

“I’d rather not.” Her voice slurred, probably from tequila. Maybe she had been drinking awhile. Her eyes looked red.

We sped past the open bar where Gil sat. His back was toward us. He leaned, listening to one of the men with him, and did not notice us passing.

Tetter reached an area with few people.

“Stop,” I ordered.

She paused so quickly I almost rammed into her. “What?”

I grabbed her hand. “Tell me what’s wrong with you.”

“I had a few drinks. Is that all right?”

“Were you watching baseball?”

“Where?” Her eyes focused on a vacant spot as though she were locating the sport I mentioned. “Oh, in the bar. No, I don’t give a diddly squat about baseball.”

This sounded more like the Tetter I knew. “So what were you doing in there?”

“I was thinking, okay?”

“It’s not okay.” I didn’t realize I’d raised my voice until people passing turned to stare.

Clutching my friend’s hand, I guided her into an empty alcove that held stands with pictures. “I’m your friend. I have been your friend ever since we were twelve, and I felt I could tell you anything. I thought you were the same way with me.”

“I was.”

“And now you’re different?”

“Are you kidding me?” She turned her face sideways, gazed up, and shook her head. She stared at me. “You don’t actually think any of us are the same people we were in junior or senior high school?”

“Well, no, but…yes, we are the same people inside. We couldn’t have changed that much here, right?” I balled up my hand and pressed it to my chest.

Her eyes tightened into smaller orbs. They saddened. She grew quiet, her vacant gaze taking in the air surrounding me. Her mind, I hoped, was helping her decide what her heart probably told her—that she should confide in me. This troubled woman needed to share the weight in her soul with someone. Why not a trusted friend?

She seemed to decide. Yanking up her purse, she dug inside.

I swallowed a small sip of margarita, wetting my throat for the counseling session I was about to share with her.

Her gaze into her purse made me wonder what she so intently searched for. Possibly a letter from someone that made her fear. A doctor’s diagnosis of an incurable disease? That would be especially horrible. Maybe instead she had kept track of how many times she’d done something she regretted, like too much gambling.

The moment after I sipped my margarita, I regretted it. What if the problem she was ready to tell me about was alcoholism?

I lowered my glass and held it toward my rear.

She dug a small rectangular plastic item out of her purse and handed it to me.

A mirror.

“Is that the person you once were?” she asked.

Overhead lights meant to brighten the photographs set on boards struck the mirror, making it glitter and highlight my wrinkles. That was the main thing I saw. And there was the under-eye puffiness. The skin that no longer looked fresh.

“Ugh.” I yanked the mirror down as though it were on fire and handed it back to her. “I hope I looked better than this at one time.”

“I hope the same thing for me.” She slipped the vicious mirror back into her bag.

“Okay, we don’t look anywhere as young as we did back then.”

“We surely don’t.” She leaned forward. “That was decades ago, Cealie.”

“Right, but we still have the same basic values, the same things we consider right or wrong.”

“Sometimes those change, too.” She zipped her purse. “I really need to go.”

“Please don’t.”

Three women approached. They smiled at us and studied the pictures, probably searching for photos of themselves.

I touched Tetter’s forearm. “Let’s go somewhere to talk.” I almost suggested one of the quieter bars but thought better of it in case her difficulty included liquor. “We could sit by the pool or go to my room.”

She moved her arm away from my hand. “I don’t know what Jane told you about me, but I’m fine. I don’t have anything serious that I want to talk to anyone about. I’m only on this cruise to see a few classmates and relax. And you surely aren’t contributing to my relaxation.”

I raised both hands as though in surrender, although one still held my drink. “I’m sorry. I thought you might want to confide in an old friend.”

“
Old
is the operative word.”

“Damn, Tetter, you’ve changed.”

“Yes, so have you. When I’m in a better mood, I’ll pry into your life and try to dig out every little situation you’ve been through during the last decades, and we’ll see if they’re all pretty.”

“No, I’ve done things—”

“So have I.” She stomped off.

The women standing near stared at me with my mouth hanging open. My good friend had told me off.

I forced my jaw closed and hobbled away. My feelings were hurt. I wanted sympathy.

I wasn’t sure Gil could sympathize since he normally told me I should keep my nose away from other people’s troubles unless they asked for help. A female friend would understand. Females, even from an early age, instinctively knew that you stuck your nose into others’ business whether they wanted it or not.

Deciding I’d like Gil’s shoulder to lean on even if he didn’t grasp my inner ache, I aimed for the bar where I’d seen him. He’d talked to those guys long enough. If I couldn’t pry him away, I would join them until they were done with their discussion. And then I could snuggle in one of the nearby comfy lounge chairs with Gil, having him hold me.

Darn
. His barstool was empty. The men he’d spoken with were also gone.

“A man sat here talking to some other guys,” I said to the young bartender and pointed to Gil’s barstool. “He’s a nice-looking man about my age. Did you happen to see which way he went?”

“Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t notice.”

I would find Jane instead and tell her about my encounter with Tetter. Maybe together we could decide if we should we just leave her alone.

Jane was no longer in the casino. The boat dipped under my feet. I gripped the edge of a video poker machine. An elderly man playing it looked at me, and I smiled. Then I glanced at his watch.

The early-evening show in the theater began minutes ago. That was probably where most of my friends were.

I headed for the front of the ship, skimming faces I passed, most of them cheerful, but none I recognized.

I inadvertently entered the theater’s top deck. House lights were down, everything dark except for the spotlighted stage. The orchestra played. Dancers in pink and red swirled around the floor.

A swell of fear shot trembles to my shoulders and snaked past my elbows to my fingers. The sway in my torso and legs made me fear I’d slip down. I gulped and gulped, working to stave off my terror of balconies.
Your big cousin will not hold you over the edge, pretending he’ll toss you down
.
You’re a big girl now, Cealie.

And, I reminded myself with my head taller, I’d stood on a balcony not that long ago. Of course, then I’d faced a killer. But won.

I’d purposely climbed to that balcony to protect my grandchild and then made it back down again just fine, I considered. Until I recalled I hadn’t been able to get down alone.

Oops
.

And I had come up here before, but not by myself.

A glittering ball made slow spins above, shooting rays of brilliance off sequins in velvety folds of dark fabric. Music swelled in a popular Broadway tune my numbing mind refused to name. My arms felt stuck out like a penguin’s. Knowing I blocked the center of the entrance, I could not force my legs to move me.

I swung my gaze sideways. Smiling passengers filled rows that trailed upward, ever higher into what appeared a black abyss capable of swallowing them whole. People came in and nudged past, apologizing for squeezing by. I nodded and swept my head toward the opposite side of the balcony, where hundreds more people sat.

The music livened as I stood in place.

I chanced a glance below. People on the right filled circular cushioned seats stretching from the center of the huge area. Sectional seating took up the sides, the dark shadowed sides. If I could make out a person I knew, one of my classmates or Gil, I could probably get down there and stay around. But here…

“Can I help you find a seat?” A blond male steward gave me a smile. “There are a few empty ones down those rows.”

Without turning to see where he meant, I shook my head. More latecomers brushed in beside me.

“If you’d prefer to stand back here, you might want to get to the side,” the steward said. “Then people won’t bump you.”

I stared at him. My mind grasped what he told me. It was something I knew without hearing the words. Yet even as I realized I needed to move, I could not.

“Ma’am, are you all right?” He peered into my panicky eyes. Was he going to offer a straightjacket? Or strap me into one without asking?

“That’s okay. I’ve got her.” Sue stepped near and snagged my arm. Turning me around, she led me like an old woman out of the theater.

Bright lights in the wide corridor made me relax. I released a deep sigh.

She kept a grip on my arm. “Isn’t it time you got over it?”

“Thanks for the help. You can let go of my arm now,” I said, grateful for her aid but not ready for chastisement.

She let go and followed as I walked farther from the balcony. “It’s a good show. You’d like it. I could take you back inside downstairs.”

“I know that show’s terrific. I saw it the last time I came on this trip.”

Sue bent her head toward me, her look doubtful. I also doubted whether it was the same performance I’d seen, but did not pinch my palm in case I was telling the truth. I figured it was at least similar to one I’d viewed. Most performances on cruises were so great I couldn’t believe all of that entertainment was included in the price of the trip.

“Then we can do something else.” Sue spoke begrudgingly.

“You go back in. I don’t need a sitter.”

“Sometimes you do.” She strode beside me.

I frowned, stepping my booted foot ahead as quickly as I could.

Her legs moved faster. “I remember when my mom kept you,” she said, making me slow and glance at her. “You could be quite a brat.”

“I could not.”

A slow smile spread across her lips. “We had fun playing together, didn’t we?”

I nodded, considering Sue’s mother and those great crab cakes she made and all of those spongy angel food cakes. We’d see-sawed on their gym set many times. Of course, the person beside me had been Stu, wearing baseball caps and T-shirts. Now she wore great heels and slimming dresses over a slender woman’s curves.

“I can go to the later performance,” she said. “Let’s get a drink.”

Maybe Tetter hadn’t drunk in excess, I considered, realizing most cruise ships contained many bars, probably because lots of us imbibed in them more than we did at home.

We entered the well-lit Party Tyme, holding many younger people. Rock music resounded. We sat on barstools and ordered margaritas.

“I don’t do well with many of these,” I said once I received my frozen drink and clinked large-bowled glasses with my aunt. “And this isn’t my first tonight.”

“Good. Then maybe you’ll be friendly.”

“Me? You’re the one who keeps withdrawing.”

“You’ve been apprehensive about me since the minute you walked onboard.”

“You told me off. You said I was old and fat.” I glanced at my stomach. Maybe she wasn’t far off. And although I wasn’t young, she was the same age.

“I was kidding. Jeez, can’t you take a joke anymore? People used to be able to kid with you.”

And this relative of mine had been annoying and always told jokes that weren’t funny. In school, we’d normally faked smiles.

“I didn’t kill that man.” Her tone was loud. The words flew out of her mouth the minute a song ended. Certainly she hadn’t meant to have everyone hear her, but the entire bar grew quiet. Every person stared at her.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” I said. “Would you like to go somewhere else?”

She nodded. Carrying our drinks, we strolled out.

“Oh, that was great.” She swallowed big gulps of her margarita.

“Sue, were you with him when he died?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Did you know him? I mean, you know.”

“Intimately?” She grimaced.

I started to shake my head no but decided to forge ahead. “Yes.”

She sucked in a loud breath. “Cealie—”

“Cealie, Sue. There y’all are.” Randy strolled to us.

Sue flung an angry glance at me, her chin tight, maybe warning me to shut up about our discussion.

“You weren’t going to the performance in the theater?” I asked Randy, ready to send him away. I had begun asking Sue things I really wanted to know and wasn’t ready to let her go yet. I wasn’t mildly curious—I was concerned about a dead man and hoping my blood relative hadn’t killed him.

Since I knew of their relationship, I might be the only person who could lead authorities to her. If my fears were correct.

I checked her through the corner of my eye. Her lips shoved out in a pout.

“I’m going to the late performance. Y’all want to come?” Randy asked.

I envisioned my older cousin holding seven-year-old me over the balcony ledge. A massive shiver shook my body. “I’m not going.”

“Are you sick? Or is it your ankle?” He peered at my booted foot.

“I need the restroom,” Sue said and spurted away from us. I figured she wouldn’t come back. In fact, she might try to avoid me for the rest of the trip.

“I went shopping,” Randy said, his face breaking into a large smile so reminiscent of the handsome teen he’d been in school. “Look what I found for the grandkids.” He opened a bag and drew out a tiny pink dress with a cruise ship embroidered across its bodice. Pride sparkled in his eyes.

“That’s adorable.”

“And look at this one.” He pulled out a boy’s knit shirt, about size ten, navy with a cruise ship plastered on the left side of the chest.

“Nice,” I said, wondering if the kid wasn’t too old to want a boat on his shirt.

“And I got them some other things. Some headband thingies for her and a huge ship puzzle for him.”

I smiled, for the first time on this cruise seeing him in a new light. He was a grandparent. Just like me, some time after he left school he became blessed with the wonderful gift of becoming a parent. After that, he was chosen with the joyful task of becoming a grandparent.