Strangers on a Train (7 page)

“Yes, you did,” Bess said. “I know I mentioned it a couple of times. Remember? When we saw that mystery movie on our third date, I told you Nancy would've had the case solved in half the time.”

“Oh, okay, right, I guess you did say something like that.” Alan shrugged. “But I didn't think she was so, you know,
serious
about it. I mean, I figured her dad's a hotshot lawyer, so she was probably just goofing around, pretending to investigate his big cases or whatever. . . .”

“Shh,” I hissed, noticing Wendy wandering closer, staring down at the screen on her camera. “Incoming.”

“Huh?” Alan said, his voice sounding way too loud. “Hang on, I have a question—is this the real reason why Nancy is always running off to the bathroom and stuff?”

Bess pinched him on the arm. “Quiet, then,” she murmured. “We have to keep this on the down-low, okay?”

“Oh!” His eyes widened again, and he nodded, shooting a suspicious look around. “I gotcha. Top secret stuff, right?”

I cringed. This was what I'd been afraid of. Alan was so excitable—what if he blurted something out at the wrong time?

Oh well. Whatever happened, we were just going to have to deal with it. Might as well look on the bright side. Four heads were better than three, right? With Alan helping to keep an eye on our suspects, maybe we'd actually crack this case before the end of the trip.

“Come on,” I said once Wendy had passed by, luckily without noticing us. “We can talk more back at the suite later. This could be our once-in-a-lifetime chance to check out this awesome scenery.”

“Are you sure you want to go to the show?” Alan asked, straightening his tie and glancing into the mirrored wall in the suite's entryway. “Wouldn't you rather take this chance to, you know, sleuth around or whatever while the rest of the passengers are busy?” He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.

I bit back a sigh. “No, it's fine,” I said, double-­checking to make sure Max was safely out of earshot in one of the bedrooms. “I'm sure most of our suspects will be there tonight. Two birds with one stone and all that.”

“Right.” Bess reached up to flick a speck of lint off Alan's sleeve. “Besides, I know you've been looking forward to seeing Merk's show, sweetie.”

The idea behind Superstar Cruises was that passengers would get the chance to spend time with the celebrity talent hired as the ship's entertainment. Unfortunately, the
Arctic Star
's main attraction, A-list action star Brock Walker, had canceled at the last minute due to Vince and Lacey's shenanigans. That had left C-list comedian Merk the Jerk as the ship's headliner. Tonight was his first performance—his original show had been postponed when Vince and Lacey had sabotaged the chandelier in the ship's main theater. Now the place was cleaned up and the show was back on.

“We'd better get moving if we want decent seats,” George said, heading for the door. “It's first come, first served.”

The theater was already crowded when we arrived, but we still managed to find good seats near the front.

“This is going to be awesome!” Alan rubbed his hands together, leaning forward to peer at the stage. “I heard Merk does a really funny bit about cruise fashions.”

“Hmm.” I wasn't too interested in speculating about the comedian's set. Instead I was glancing around for our suspects. But I hadn't spotted any of them by the time the lights dimmed.

“Here we go,” George whispered.

Becca's boss, Marcelo, stepped out onstage, looking dapper in a dark suit. A smattering of applause greeted his appearance, and he raised both hands and smiled.

“Thank you, thank you,” the cruise director said. “I know we're all looking forward to having our funny bone tickled by our wonderful celebrity guest, Merk the Jerk. First, though, the captain would like to say a few words. Sir?”

He turned and swept into a gallant bow. Captain Peterson strode out onstage and shook Marcelo's hand, then took his place at the microphone.

“Good evening, everyone,” he said. “Before we get started with tonight's entertainment, I want to fill you in on the schedule for the next few days. As you know, the
Arctic Star
departed Glacier Bay just before dinner­time tonight and is now cruising toward Seward, where we'll dock for a few days while most of you travel by comfortable motor coach to Anchorage to begin the land tour portion of your trip.”

He went on to explain that some of the ship's ­personnel—Scott, Hiro, Tatjana, and several others—would be accompanying us as we visited Anchorage and then traveled north from there to Denali National Park. The rest of the staff, including Becca, Max, and the captain himself, would stay behind to ready the ship for the return voyage down the coast to Vancouver.

“Yikes,” George breathed in my ear. “Sounds like our suspects are splitting up.”

I nodded, feeling a pang of concern. At least Max was the only staff member on our list who wouldn't be traveling with the passengers. Still, if he was our culprit, that would mean he'd have plenty of free time to plan more trouble before we returned. And the captain had said “most of” the passengers would be going on the land tour. What if Wendy was planning to save money by skipping it and staying behind on the ship? Or what if Fred decided he'd rather hang out with his pals in the kitchen than go with the rest of us? I wondered whether one of us should stay behind on the ship just in case.

Reaching into my pocket, I touched my phone. Maybe I should text Becca and get her advice about what to do. Before I could decide, the lights dimmed again and raucous music poured out of the speakers. I realized the captain had left the stage, and it was time for Merk's show to start.

The comedian strode out with a cocky grin on his face. “Welcome, ladies and grunts!” he shouted. “I hope you're enjoying your stay on the
Arctic Star
, where the drinks are cold and the passengers are old.”

“Ba-
dum
-bum,” George said with a grin, while people all around us laughed, booed, or cheered.

The show continued from there. My friends seemed to be enjoying themselves, laughing and clapping and letting out hoots of approval. But I couldn't seem to focus on the comedian's act.

“Be right back,” I hissed at George.

Luckily, we were near the end of our row, so I only had to climb over her and a few other people to get out. Soon I was in the hushed, carpeted hallway outside the theater. An older man was out there, fiddling with his hearing aid.

“Funny show, eh?” he said conversationally. “Just wish I could hear it a bit better.”

“Yeah, it's great. Excuse me, I need to find the ladies' room.” I smiled at the man, then hurried off around the nearest corner. Pulling out my phone, I started tapping out a message to Becca as I walked.

A moment later, the sound of muffled but excited-sounding voices pulled my attention away from my text. Where was that coming from?

There was a door standing ajar just ahead; the voices were coming from that direction. Curious, I hurried forward and peered in.

The door opened into what looked like some kind of meeting room. About a dozen people were inside, gathered around a large, polished wooden table. Most of them were dressed in ship uniforms, but the person standing at the head of the table was wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt.

Fred looked up and saw me staring in at him. His face twisted into a scowl.

“Why do you keep turning up everywhere I look?” he exclaimed, jabbing a finger in my direction. “If you're spying on me, you'll be sorry!”

CHAPTER SIX

Sharp Questions

“WH-WHAT?” I STAMMERED, TAKEN ABACK.
“Spying? Uh, no, sorry, I just . . .” My voice trailed off. The other people in the room had turned to stare at me, and I recognized one of them as Daisy, our usual dinner waitress. “Hi, Daisy,” I said, taking a step toward her. “It's me, Nancy.”

Daisy was popular with all of us for her bright smile and friendly attitude. But she wasn't displaying either at the moment. “H-hello, Nancy,” she said quietly.

“So what's going on in here?” I asked her, and glanced around. “Is everything all right?”

Daisy shot a look at Fred. “Er, nothing,” she said quickly. “It's nothing. Everything's fine. We're just listening.”

There was a low murmur of assent. None of the other employees were meeting my eye. Then a young man stood up. I was pretty sure he worked as a lifeguard at the pool.

“Nobody here has agreed to anything,” he said, his voice quavering. “There's no need to tell our bosses about any of this.”

“That's enough,” Fred said sharply. “You don't have to tell her anything.” He glared at me. “Your cover is blown, young lady,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.

I froze. Was Fred on to me? “I—I don't know what you—,” I began.

He didn't give me a chance to continue. “I've seen you talking with the assistant cruise director more than once. You two looked pretty chummy.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You're working for Superstar, aren't you? Keeping the little people in line? I hope you're proud of yourself!”

My heart rate slowed slightly. “Huh?” I said. “The little people? What are you talking about?”

Fred rolled his eyes dramatically. “You can drop the act. We both know why you're here. But you might as well give up. Unionization is coming—it's right, and you can't stop it.”

I blinked, taking that in. “Unionization?” Glancing around at the worried faces staring back at me, I finally realized what was going on here. “You're trying to form a union?”

“Like we said, we're just listening to what he has to say,” someone spoke up. “Please don't tell management, or we could lose our jobs.”

“Don't worry, I'm not trying to get anyone fired.” I turned to Fred. “So you're a union organizer?”

He still looked hostile. “Yeah. As if you didn't know that already.”

“I didn't.” I shrugged. “I had no idea, actually. And you can all relax—I'm not here to turn you in to management. I had no idea any of this was going on, and as far as I'm concerned, it's none of my business.”

“So you're not going to tell?” Daisy asked.

I shook my head. “As long as there's nothing illegal going on here—and it sounds like there's not—your secret's safe with me.”

Murmurs of relief came from around the room. ­Daisy's sunny smile reappeared. “Thanks, Nancy,” she said.

“No need to thank me.” I smiled back, then returned my attention to Fred. “So this whole time, you've been trying to organize a union?” I said. “That explains why you spend so much time in the kitchen and places like that.”

Fred still looked suspicious and a little confused. “Hang tight, people,” he told the employees. “I'll be back in a minute.” Then he steered me out into the hallway. “So you're really not a management spy?” he asked when we were alone. “Then why are you always talking with Becca Wright? And why do I keep running into you everywhere I turn?”

“Becca's an old family friend,” I told him. “As for running into each other, that's bound to happen. This ship is big, but not
that
big.”

“Hmm.” Fred still didn't look entirely convinced. But he shrugged. “All right, then. You don't really fit the mold, anyway. But when you turned up on the dock in Skagway after John Sanchez got fired, I really started to wonder.”

“Yeah, that was weird, wasn't it?” I realized that just because Fred was a union organizer, it didn't necessarily mean he couldn't also be my culprit. I might as well take this opportunity for a little snooping. “But I heard they really did find drugs in his locker.”

Fred frowned. “That's what they say. I find it pretty hard to believe.”

“Oh? How so?”

“That kid was a model employee. Hardworking, well-liked, no history of any kind of trouble. Definitely no history of being mixed up with drugs.” Fred squared his shoulders. “This is exactly why I'm here—to help workers.” He looked back into the room. “At least maybe seeing him get axed with no real evidence got some of the others to wake up and listen.”