Set sail for murder, p.27
Set Sail for Murder, page 27
When they finally arrived on the main deck, Polly, Tim, and Tiara merged into a tributary of other passengers moving toward the exit at the speed of a clogged drain. The Kool Krooz Swelltime Passes and Zip ’n Sip liquor card were collected. Then they moved down the gangway and descended into the cruise ship terminal and into yet another queue. There, Homeland Security guards were checking passports and transfer documents.
Suddenly, Polly’s eyes automatically locked on the open double doors in the distance, and she excitedly took a deep intake of breath. She eagerly called out to Tim and Tiara, and everyone else, “My Randy’s here! He’s come all the way from Beverly Hills, California, to surprise me!” With her eyes trained on her attractive boyfriend, who was standing outside with a bouquet of cellophane-wrapped flowers, Polly waved wildly and slipped out of line. She pushed past other passengers and ignored uniformed border security guards demanding she “Halt!”
Polly was deaf to all but the affectionate sounds she was imagining she would soon hear from Randy, until she was abruptly sidelined by four whistle-blowing officers shouting her name. Polly was where she ordinarily preferred to be—the center of attention—but this time she was flummoxed by the commotion.
“Yes, we’re well aware of your celebrity, Miss Pepper,” said one officious officer, in response to Polly’s look of surprise. “We’ve been assigned to drive you to police headquarters. There’s a matter of a murder.”
“Not just any murder,” Polly insisted. “The murder of a dear and trusted friend of mine. A used-to-be, almost star.”
As Polly nodded her readiness to spill the beans, Randy flashed his badge like he was unveiling a golden ticket, darting to her side. Their embrace was so tight, you’d think they were trying to squeeze orange juice out of each other. Randy then stepped back, his grin wide and genuine. “So, let me guess,” he teased, “you were just lounging around, innocently sipping bubbly, when out of nowhere, a kamikaze seagull dive-bombed a corpse right onto your pedicure?”
Polly made a dismissive snort, giving Randy a nudge that could start a pinball game. “Oh, please! Everyone knows it’s storks are the only birds that drop bodies. But oh, how I wish you’d been there to see my murder investigation prowess in action!”
Randy’s eyes twinkled with mock astonishment. “A murder, you say.
Tim and Tiara exchanged smiles as they listened to Polly’s revisionist history of how, apparently, she alone had cleverly pieced together the clues to find the killer.
“Not just any body!” Polly continued. “A semi-celebrity body that soon will be more famous than when it was walking around making trouble for the living. Her head was missing.”
“Not quite,” Tiara sassed.
“Let me tell my story my way!” Polly hissed.
As Polly and her posse were escorted with much police fanfare toward the building’s exit, Lawrence Deerfield stopped on his way out and gave Tiara a hug goodbye and handed her his business card. Then he turned to Polly and said, “You know I adore you, Miss Pepper, just as everyone else does. But being accused of murder was the last thing I ever expected to happen in my lifetime. In lieu of court action, I’ll be writing to you for a letter of recommendation to secure a gig for me at the Pasadena Playhouse. You owe me big time.”
“I hear you, Mr. Talented Fingers.” Polly laughed, trying to pretend that Lawrence’s farewell was a private joke just between them.
As Lawrence shook his head and stepped out of the terminal, Deena Howitzer and Cori Berman, their arms linked together, walked up to Polly. Deena gave the diva a peck on her cheek and said, “If it hadn’t been for all of your false accusations about who killed that Laura C.—darling Cori being among them—I might never have found the love of my mid-life.” She turned to Cori and gave him a kiss on his lips. “Yeah, I’m like ‘em young, so sue me,” she giggled. “Cori’s been remanded to my custody,” she cooed in a sultry whisper. “Remanded. Isn’t that the most seductive word you’ve ever heard?” she giggled and added, “We’ll need your help getting that dopey charge of pilfering from the dead removed from his record. I think you owe him that much.”
Cori, too, gave Polly a kiss on her cheek. “You never complimented me on my New England accent?” he said. “And jeez, lady, you were right when you said you weren’t good at solving riddles. I gave you tons of clues about Dorian that night outside your cabin door!”
Polly looked at Cori. “You were my ghost!” Then she corrected herself. “I knew it but wanted to hear it from your own lips. And you knew that Dorian was the killer because you overheard him talking to Laura on his cell phone.”
“No. I was at the spa with Talia the night that Laura was murdered. We finished our um, er, treatment, and as I was leaving, I saw a man enter the therapy room next door. I heard him swear and shout Laura’s name. He called her a double-crossing tramp. Laura yelled something back and I clearly heard her say ‘Polly Pepper.’ I didn’t catch the rest and didn’t think any more about it until the next morning when I learned that she was dead. Then I saw you and Dorian together and added things up. I decided you might be at risk. I tried to warn you, but God, you’re so obtuse!”
“Why didn’t you tell the captain what you saw?” Polly asked.
“Because you were already doing a damn good job of casting aspersions. And I decided I might end up looking as foolish as you.”
Deena interrupted. “We have to file statements with the authorities, too, and my Cori will tell all. Mind if we join your police escort?”
As the security team continued to lead Polly and her troupe toward the exit, two women approached. “Remember us? Rachel and Sarah? We bought your dumb Polly Pepper Playhouse discs in the gift shop. We wish we could say it was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Pepper, but the truth is that you burst our bubble. Celebrities do that at their own risk. If you’re Julie Andrews, we expect a nun. On the other hand, if you’re Russell Crowe—well we don’t expect too much of him. But you’re Polly Flipping Pepper, and we’re very disappointed with your phony baloney act! You’re not the saint that Betty White was.
Sarah made a face and clutched the crucifix around her neck. She babbled something unintelligible before moving away.
“Tongues?” Tim asked.
“Expletives in pig Latin,” Tiara answered.
Polly cinched her arm into Randy’s and linked the other with one of the Homeland Security officers’. “Wait’ll I tell you all about this appalling Kool Krooz and the nut jobs I’ve met this week,” she said. “It’ll make a great chapter in my book!
“Speaking of which”—she turned to one of the security officers— “please make a note that I’m writing my memoirs and need a copy of my police deposition for the chapter titled ‘A Bonnie Body Lies Over the Ocean.’ God knows I don’t want The Smoking Gun or Oprah accusing me of exaggerating or fabricating my stories!”
Outside, Polly and her entourage hit the pavement like they were strutting down a Hollywood red carpet, only to be swarmed by a gaggle of news vans and reporters. Polly beamed and greeted them like they were long-lost relatives at a family reunion.
With the grace of a gazelle, Polly broke free from her Homeland Security escorts and waltzed over to the media circus. “Listen up, buttercups,” she announced, “as a common courtesy to the brave men and women in blue who earn their pay with our taxes, I can’t discuss details of my involvement in this murder investigation. However, I will say that despite the lovely and talented Laura Crawford being beheaded on the boat, I sold a shipload of the brand-new Polly Pepper Playhouse boxed set collector’s edition of DVDs. They’re available everywhere, and I know your TV audiences will want to know that Laura is heavily featured on these discs. So, get ’em while she’s still hot. As a commodity, I mean. Of course, the real Laura is pretty darn cold.”
A reporter called out, “Polly! Are they booking you a suite at the Graybar Hotel?”
Polly rolled her eyes. “Please! I’m the heroine of this saga, not the villain. I’ll be sipping champagne in a five-star hotel by sundown, celebrating my sleuthing skills along with my adorable Plus One, Detective Randy Archer.” She pointed to Randy, who seemed reticent to accept any acknowledgement.
“Polly!” another voice called from among the reporters. “Is it true that your old costars Arnie Levin and Tommy Milkwood hired a hit man to kill Laura Crawford?”
“Sweetums, that was twenty years ago!” Polly laughed. “This time it was Laura who got herself in trouble and couldn’t get out of it.”
One of the Homeland Security officers rushed to Polly’s side and whispered in her ear. Polly blew kisses to the reporters and the crowd that had gathered and said, “I’m being told that I’ve said too much, and I have to save the really juicy stories for my deposition. I suppose it’ll be available on the internet by tonight. Feel free to quote me as often as you like. But pretty please, be kind to this living legend and use decent pictures. Ta, sweetums!”
“One last question, Polly!” an intrepid reporter called out. “What’s your next movie or TV gig? We miss you!”
“Miss you more!” Polly shouted back. “Watch this space for some very big news coming soon. My agent is putting me up for the new Woody Allen project.”
“Sorry to hear that,” the reporter called back. “I guess we can look forward to reading your memoirs soon, too.”
“Something great will come along for me, I assure you,” Polly trilled. “You know that Polly Pepper always lands in clover!”
THE END
ALSO BY RICHARD TYLER JORDAN
Polly Pepper Cozy Mystery Series
Remains to be Scene
Final Curtain
A Talent for Murder
Set Sail for Murder
A Corpse in the Castle
LGBTQ+ Titles
Overnight Sensation
Strangers in the Night
Gay Blades
One Night Stand
Breakfast at Timothy’s
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RICHARD TYLER JORDAN is a novelist and nonfiction writer. His books include the cozy mysteries A Corpse in the Castle, Remains to be Scene, Final Curtain, A Talent for Murder, Set Sail for Murder, and the Christmas novella Naughty or Nice. His LGBTQ+ titles include the romcom/mystery Breakfast at Timothy’s, as well as Overnight Sensation, Strangers in the Night, Gay Blades (which was #1 on the InsightOut Book Club Bestsellers List), and One Night Stand. He has also contributed novellas to the anthologies Summer Share and All I Want for Christmas (both of which earned Lambda Literary Award nominations) and Man of My Dreams. Jordan is also the author of But Darling, I’m Your Auntie Mame, a history of the fictional icon Auntie Mame created by Patrick Dennis. As a senior publicist and staff writer with The Walt Disney Studios for thirty years, Jordan worked on the marketing campaigns of over 500 live-action and animated feature films. Now an expat from America, Richard lives in England in a cozy 16th-century cottage (with his husband and an amiable ghost).
You can contact Richard at www.Richardtylerjordan.com.
Richard Tyler Jordan, Set Sail for Murder
