Set sail for murder, p.25
Set Sail for Murder, page 25
In an instant, Tim, along with a couple of unexpected volunteers, grabbed the men and dragged them, flailing and shouting, to the stage. With a strong thrust, they were set at Polly’s feet.
“We’ve got him!” called out one of the men who had subdued the passengers.
“You’re a love,” Polly called out.
By now the cast of the show had assembled around Polly. The theater house lights went up and flooded the venue. Polly gasped. There before her were Cori Berman and Dorian Dawson. Cori was still holding the phone. “I should have known,” Polly said with disgust. “Cori Berman. Child star and infamous troublemaker grows up to be a has-been hell-raiser!”
The audience surrounded the stage for a better look at the man who killed Laura Crawford. “He’s been a bad seed since day one,” a woman called out. Another said, “I stopped watching Highway to Heck because the Intruder said that your every other word started with an F!”
As Cori continued to kneel at Polly’s feet, he said, “You’re making another huge mistake. I wrestled the phone out of this guy’s hand.” He pointed to Dorian.
“Tell it to the captain and the chief of security,” Polly said as she saw Captain Sheridan being escorted to the stage by a team of men in white ship’s officers’ uniforms.
When the captain took center stage with Polly, he gave her an angry look. Just as he was about to open his mouth with a reprimand, Polly spoke out. “This time I have the real killer,” she said, pointing to Cori. “I can prove it.”
“How?”
“With this. Laura Crawford’s cell phone.”
Captain Sheridan snatched the phone from Polly’s hand. “How did you…?”
“Never mind how I got hold of it. You’re just lucky I did. You should be thanking me for saving you the embarrassment of letting a killer off your ship.”
Tim and Tiara made their way to the stage to stand beside Polly. Tim said, “When I checked Laura’s call log, I discovered that she’d been talking to a certain number over and over, almost right up until the moment she was killed. So, I dialed it myself. And guess which phone it turned out to be? This one!” he said, taking the cell phone away from Cori.
“Stand up!” the captain ordered Cori. “Is this your phone?”
“Of course it is,” Polly declared. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law!”
“Physical possession does not necessarily mean ownership,” Cori stated. He reached into his pocket and withdrew another cell phone. “555-2803,” he said, reciting his telephone number.
“Then who owns this phone?” the captain demanded as he held the other cell in his hand. He looked at Dorian.
Dorian shrugged.
The captain looked at Tim.
Tim presented his own phone.
Polly chuckled. “Timmy’s an elitist when it comes to technical toys,” she said. “He’d never be caught dead with any gadget that wasn’t up to the minute. That phone looks to be at least six months old.” Polly suddenly took a good look at the cell phone. Then she looked at Dorian. “Sweetums, this is your phone.”
“Nope,” Dorian said.
Polly took a longer look at Dorian and said, “I saw it today at the auction.”
Dorian huffed and said, “Um, mine fell overboard this afternoon. A wind came along and swiped it out of my hand.”
“Convenient,” Cori snorted.
Suddenly, Polly froze. “Oh, my God. I’ve made another huge mistake. I’m so sorry.”
Dorian smiled. “Not to worry, my dear. You’re under a lot of stress. You can’t find Laura’s killer, and it’s driving you nuts. No hard feelings.”
“But what I’ve done is unforgivable,” Polly cooed. “Once again I’ve accused the wrong man of killing Laura.” She turned to Cori and said, “Over the years, the hot studio klieg lights have burned holes in my brain. It’s my only excuse. How can I ever get you to accept my apology?”
As the gathered crowd collectively looked at Polly with suspicion, Dorian chuckled softly and said, “Why are you apologizing to a killer? Let Captain Sheridan take over. You and I will go out for a bottle of champagne, to celebrate that you cracked the case, as well as our last night out at sea.”
“This is your phone,” Polly said to Dorian. Then a loud whisper began to roll through the crowd.
“No, it’s not,” Dorian stammered. “I’m insulted by your insinuation. If you don’t drop this foolishness, I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth, including the Warhol, Hockney, and Bachardy!”
Polly looked at Dorian. “You keep bringing up those damn paintings,” she said. “What’s up with my art collection?” She turned to the captain. “Dorian and I were at the most god-awful art auction this afternoon. At three thirteen he received a call on his phone. I know the exact time because I was bored and looked at my watch.” She turned to Dorian. “I was also surprised that you had a cell phone. You previously claimed you didn’t bring one because you didn’t think it would work at sea. The call you received came from my son, Timmy.”
She turned to the captain. “If you’ll look at the incoming calls on that phone, I suspect you’ll see Laura’s number displayed over and over, but most recently at three thirteen and five forty-five, just before my call a few minutes ago.”
The captain took a deep breath. “I swear to God, Miss Pepper, if this is like the missing DVD disc or the dead pool, I will not wait for the police in Juneau. You’ll be in the brig so fast…”
Polly was suddenly ill at ease. Another false accusation could not only find her facing charges of slander, but the tabloids would have a field day reporting how she’d sailed away to the shores of Looneyville.
As a thousand thoughts collided in Polly’s brain, Tiara whispered in her ear and pointed to Cori. All eyes followed Tiara’s finger and focused on the V of Cori’s open-neck shirt.
Cori became self-conscious and touched his hand to a gold braided choker he was wearing. Before Polly could say one word about it, Cori shouted, “Okay. I confess! It belonged to Laura Crawford. It was in a box among her personal things. But I swear I had nothing to do with killing her! I took it as a remembrance.”
Polly looked confused.
“I persuaded the nurse at the infirmary to let me into the storage room where Laura Crawford’s things were being stored. I lied and said that Laura and I were old friends, and that I wanted to meditate for a few minutes while near to what she left in this world. I didn’t think anyone would notice if I took one small item. A memento. Laura was important to me.”
Polly laughed. “That didn’t work both ways. Laura Crawford was only important to Laura Crawford.”
“What was important was the example she set.”
“How to alienate friends and lose a career by being hostile to directors and producers and fans?”
Cori nodded. “Exactly. By watching her behave so poorly toward others, I realized that I was the same way. Ever since appearing on your show and seeing how mean she was to everyone, including me, I’ve tried to change my ways. I didn’t want to end up a bitter old has-been like Laura Crawford.”
“And yet you still stole from the dead,” Polly said.
As everyone was staring at Cori suspiciously, the cell phone rang. While Polly and Cori were having their discourse, Captain Sheridan had pushed the Redial button on Laura’s phone, and the ringtone from the other echoed out among the crowd. The captain looked at Dorian. “I checked the call log. Miss Pepper is right. This phone received a call at three thirteen and five forty-five. It lasted all of twelve seconds.”
Dorian suddenly looked uneasy. “So? Just because I received calls at the same time that someone called Laura’s phone doesn’t mean anything. Just a coincidence.”
“Then this is your phone?”
Dorian was silent.
Captain Sheridan said, “Let’s take a look at the text messages, shall we?” He scrolled through several pages and stopped to read a particular entry. “Someone who used this phone texted Saul dot Intacti at Kook Krooze dot org. It says, ‘Daily Wave. Headline. PP PISSED. IN THE DRINK.’ It’s dated the day before yesterday. It’s the phony obituary.”
Dorian shook his head and said, “I’ll be in my stateroom. I won’t endure any more of this Hollywood-style harassment and insinuation.” He turned to Polly. “I thought we were friends. You’re nothing more than a diva… without the talent!” Dorian turned and began to walk away.
“Hold it, Mr. Dawson,” Captain Sheridan ordered.
Dorian turned around with a sneer on his face. “If you so much as whisper an accusation about me being involved with a murder, so help me, I’ll have your commission. I may look like a humble little shoe salesman, but I have friends in places that would make you cringe with fear.”
Captain Sheridan glared. “I simply wanted to tell you to enjoy the rest of your cruise. We’re placing Mr. Berman under arrest.”
Cori Berman railed, “I’m not a killer!”
“You’re at least a thief!” Captain Sheridan yelled. “An admitted one at that. If nothing else, I’m holding you for stealing Ms. Crawford’s personal property. And for tampering with evidence in a murder investigation.” He turned to his security detail. “Take him away.”
Polly, Tim, and Tiara watched as Cori Berman was led from the stage, down the steps, and up the aisle to the theater doors. His last words before they disappeared out the door were, “A.L. stands for Angela Lansbury!”
26
“The show must go on!” Captain Sheridan demanded of the crowd. “Git!”
As passengers filed back to their seats, and the small band began to tune up, the cruise director picked up the microphone and joked about the unexpected excitement that can happen in live theater. “You never know what to expect.” He laughed. “But now, it’s back to Ha-Ha, Hollywood!”
As Polly, Tim, and Tiara made their way into the stage wings, they were followed by the captain. When they were safely out of the spotlight and away from the possibility of their voices being heard over a microphone, the captain stopped and faced Polly. He stood with his arms tightly folded over his chest. “Perhaps this time you’re right. Maybe Cori Berman is the killer. He has a reputation. His motive for killing Miss Crawford is flimsy at best, but he did steal her choker and maybe destroyed evidence. I don’t know. I’ll leave this investigation for the police when we dock in the morning.”
Polly mimicked the captain and crossed her arms as well. “I’m no longer sure,” she admitted. “Maybe he’s too obvious. Maybe Dorian did drop his phone overboard. He is a klutz pouring champagne. But I would have sworn that when his phone rang…”
The captain shook his head and said, “Save it for the police and the Coast Guard and Homeland Security. The only reason I feel comfortable holding Mr. Berman is because he confessed to stealing Laura Crawford’s personal property.
“Do me a favor,” Captain Sheridan continued. “Get out of my sight and don’t let me see you again until TCM shows one of your old movies. Then I can turn you off.”
Tim reached out and placed a comforting hand on Polly’s shoulder. “Let’s go drown ourselves. I notice Krug, Clos du Mesnil is on the wine list.”
“Lead the way,” Polly said, cinching her arm around Tiara’s waist as they followed Tim to the backstage exit. When Tim pushed the bar handle on the fire exit door, it opened up onto the upper Tundra Deck. The trio unexpectedly found themselves outside. It was a cool night, and Polly leaned in closer to Tiara for warmth as they made their way toward the inside deck.
Polly looked up at the stars. “I wonder if Laura is looking down at me and laughing at the mess I’ve made of my investigation.”
Tiara hugged Polly closer. “It’s about time that shrew had a good laugh. Maybe if she’d watched Frasier and Road Runner cartoons, she would have been happier. Let’s face it. Sad as this is to say about anyone, she won’t be missed.”
Polly nodded. “Imagine being given a small talent and many opportunities and not being grateful for it. Right now, I’m feeling very sad for her. Oh, not because she’s dead. She probably doesn’t care about that. But she wasted a perfectly good life.”
Tim said, “I think you should be feeling happy for her. Thanks to you and The Polly Pepper Playhouse, she actually left a legacy and a body of work. She’ll be remembered not for the intolerable witch that she was, but for making audiences laugh.”
Polly said that she thought Tim was probably right. “You two run along to the Polar Bar and order that bottle for us. I’ll be along shortly. The stars are so bright. I sorta want to be alone for a few minutes to gaze up to heaven—not that Laura is anywhere near that place—and say my own version of farewell to her.”
“Don’t freeze to death,” Tim said. “And what did Cori mean by ‘A.L. stands for Angela Lansbury’?”
“Cori’s crazy,” Polly said.
“Say a prayer for me, too, while you’re at it,” Tiara said. “Tell Him I need my tummy rubbed by Lawrence one last time before we reach Juneau in the morning.”
Polly smiled as she left her family and strolled along the brightly lit wooden deck, the sound of flags slapping in the breeze putting her in a meditative mood. As eager as she was to return to her mansion in Bel Air, she was disheartened that she was unable to bring Laura Crawford’s killer to justice.
As Polly walked into the shadows between two lifeboats, she sighed. “Laura. Laura. Laura. Who did this awful thing to you? If you hadn’t needed money, you wouldn’t have been on this cruise in the first place, and you wouldn’t have died the way you did. I feel guilty because we could have worked something out financially.”
Polly leaned against the railing and looked down at the white waves flooded with light from the ship. She then looked to the sky. Polly closed her eyes and shook her head. “Laura, dear. I have a very funny story for you. You’re probably someplace hot and sticky right now, and you could use a giggle. Remember the paintings you loved so much? The Warhol, Bachardy, and Hockney that I bought from you for next to nothing when you were broke? Guess what? I got what I paid for. Nothing. You sold me fakes, just like the ones I had reproduced for you. I knew almost from the beginning but figured they still looked good and were cheap, so why make a fuss and have to pay a fortune in insurance premiums. And I’ve lied all these years telling people that they’re genuine. Hell, I’ve impressed hundreds of guests. Isn’t that too funny?”
Suddenly, the scent of fresh sea air shifted, and Polly picked up the fragrance of men’s cologne. She sniffed the air, turned away from the ocean, and gasped as she found herself staring directly into Dorian’s fierce and blazing eyes.
“Interesting conversation you’re having with the dead,” Dorian said.
“At least she can’t talk back to me anymore.”
“Confession time?”
Polly nodded. “I suspect you didn’t like what you just heard.”
“On the contrary. I wanted confirmation of what Laura told me with her last breath,” Dorian said. “My guess is that Laura counted on you keeping your trap shut all these years. If the Intruder got wind of the story, she would have looked like Bernie Madoff, and you one of his hapless victims. Of course, she’d have cried shock and embarrassment and explained that she didn’t know anything about art and had obviously been duped herself. You could afford to keep quiet about her deception. I can’t.”
Polly rubbed her arms against the evening chill and said, “You were swindled. She cheated you the way she cheated me and probably others. So, you killed her. When did you find out they were fakes?”
“Too late,” Dorian said. “I stupidly thought that since she was a pseudo-celebrity, she’d be on the up-and-up. I had the canvases appraised after I paid her $175,000.”
Polly laughed. “Sweetums! Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘If it sounds too good to be true…’”
“The Andy Warhol Art Authentication Board denied the authenticity of the silk screen,” Dorian interrupted through gritted teeth. “They laughed at me. Then, I demanded my money back from Laura, she laughed too and had the gall to say, ‘All sales are final.’ She had an insolent, imperious way about her.”
“I remember the look,” Polly said. “It was an attitude that made you want to strangle her.”
“I paid her every cent that I had, for Christ’s sake!” Dorian looked deep into Polly’s eyes. “The last thing she said to me was, ‘Get them from Polly Pepper.’”
“She sold me what she sold you—worthless junk. I just didn’t make a stink about it. I never believed her tale of Warhol’s lost can of soup. What a crock.” Polly smiled. “But I was able to help a fellow thespian who needed money, and I let her go on thinking that I was as much of a moron about art as she was about musical comedy. Funny, eh?”
“Never mind,” Dorian spat. “Laura ripped me off. I got chummy with you in order to get my hands on what was rightfully mine. I think you’re lying about their authenticity.”
Polly stared Dorian down. “How did you plan to get them out of my possession? Did you think I’d simply hand over my Hockney?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Dorian reached into the inside breast pocket of his sport coat and withdrew a trifolded piece of paper. He held it under his nose like a cigar and pretended to inhale the aroma. “A change to your will.” He smiled.
Polly blanched. “Tim had you pegged as a nut from the beginning. In the future, I’ll pay more attention to his intuition.”
Dorian repeated, “In the future…” and offered a hollow laugh. Opening the folded document, he explained what he’d done. “I love the internet. There’s a website for everything—Sick 2 death dot com creates wills for only $9.95. I made a codicil to yours. You’ll sign it, and I’ll be very happy to receive your generous bequest of three of your most important pieces of modern art.”
“You wasted your money,” Polly said.
“After you’re gone, no one will question your gift because we’ve become such chums during this week. Our mutual love for modern art is now well established. At least by the passengers who saw us together at the art auction. It was especially lucky that my cell phone went off. It called further attention to us.”
