Murder at the Wrap Party

I had never seen the Moonlit Majesty so empty, and I had to admit, I liked it.

Not only had three thousand passengers all filed off the ship by ten a.m., as usual, now many of our fifteen hundred crew members were heading ashore as well. Several of the longest-stationed employees were being given an unprecedented three days off.

It felt bittersweet. Our ship had just relocated from the Caribbean to Europe. While I could certainly see the appeal of exploring Southampton, England for a full three days and I had spent over an hour looking longingly out at the port as we approached shore, I was also a bit of a film buff. I was looking forward to being a fly on the wall of our cruise ship as Stonebridge Entertainment brought their cast and crew aboard to film the final scenes in their latest feature film.

Most of the movie had been filmed on our sister ship, the Sunset Majesty, while it had been in dry dock. But apparently, they had a few shots they needed to take while the ship was in motion, and since the Moonlit Majesty had been scheduled for a three-day dry dock that wasn’t completely necessary, the head of our cruise line accepted what must have been a huge sum of money to have our cruise ship to themselves for three days.

Because I was close to our ship’s security team—specifically to the security manager, Miles Blackwell, I was privy to some exciting information: Ava Sinclair would be starring in this particular film.

Ava was one of my favorite actresses and I’d once talked my late Gran into spending an entire week in the hospital watching every one of her rom-coms. I wasn’t familiar with any of the other cast members listed on Miles’s manifest, but I recognized the name Hans Müller. Mr. Müller was a well-known German director who had been responsible for the blockbuster action-thriller Iron Empire series of movies. I wondered if Mr. Müller or Miss Sinclair would be venturing into a new genre with this film. Regardless, I couldn’t believe I might get the opportunity to see them both at work.

As I moved through our nearly empty ship, I marveled at the vastness of it. The wide hallways that normally held hundreds of people at a time felt big enough to practice a whole string of pirouettes or even my Grand jeté.

I double-checked both directions to make sure that indeed no one was around, and then spun myself from one end of the hallway to the other. It felt good to stretch out and dance a little, and I decided I’d have to make a point of going up to the theater again soon to practice with the dance team. I always kept to the back of the stage, out of their way, and they never seemed to mind having me there.

After catching my breath, I arrived at the ship’s photo gallery, surprised to see my boss Philip there talking to Laila, my co-worker who would be staying aboard with me.

“I thought you were going ashore?” I asked Philip.

“I was.” He cleared his throat as he reached over the computerized till that Laila was standing behind and typed something into it. “I am,” he amended. “I just needed to make sure the till is shut off for this voyage. You won’t be selling photos to this crowd.”

He could have simply told Laila to shut down the till, or better yet, just told us both not to use it. But that wasn’t Philip’s style. He had gruffly made it clear that he didn’t trust any of his employees to properly do their jobs. I had to admit, I was looking forward to three days without the man hovering over my shoulder.

“I still expect you to capture your quota of photos.” He said this to me, as Laila usually worked more in the photo lab than behind a camera. “I got permission from the film crew for you to take photos after signing an NDA. In exchange for turning your photos over to the production company, we can use some of the shots for promo material after the movie is released.”

My breath caught at the thought of having my name credited for a photo of Ava Sinclair.

It was a good enough reason to hurry down to the gangway as soon as possible.

My roommate Becky was one of the lucky crew members who had been granted leave for the next three days. Apparently, they were only keeping one employee aboard to open the ship’s shops upon request. This left my cat extra lonely, and when I dropped by our cabin to retrieve my camera, he practically launched himself up and into my arms.

“Hey, Pickle. Did Becky already say goodbye?”

He immediately started purring in my arms. Laila, who had followed me down here, came over to scratch his head. Becky was used to me talking to my cat like he was another person, but I made an effort to keep my kitty chatter to a minimum with Laila around.

“I wonder if the film crew will all come aboard all at once, or if they’ll be spread throughout the day?” Laila mused.

I tried to distract Pickle. “Should we check that you have enough food?” I headed for his little dish of kibble I kept under our small desk, but it was still full. While I didn’t think my cat could completely understand English, he knew what embarkation day entailed and he was always eager to take part.

As he strained in my arms toward the door, it was clear he had caught on.

I figured I had no choice but to talk out loud to him, no matter how crazy I might seem to Laila. “Today’s embarkation day will certainly be different, with only a small number of cast and film crew coming aboard to shoot this movie.”

A “small” number in this case was just over a hundred and fifty people. “I’m not sure if it’s the best time to bring you out,” I told Pickle.

But he strained twice as hard toward the cabin door.

I sighed, finding it almost impossible to say no to my kitty. He had been a stowaway, and when we’d first met, I’d saved him from being thrown overboard. Ever since then, he’d been my listening ear, my comfort through the night, and a co-detective to me and Miles when it came to solving crimes.

“You draw too much attention, and the last time I tied you up near Guest Services, you got all tangled up in your leash,” I told him.

“You should think about getting a harness for your adventurous kitty,” Laila suggested.

It had taken me a couple of months to get a leash for him, but Laila’s suggestion was a good one. And, in fact, while Becky had three days ashore, there was a pretty good chance she’d come across a pet store.

I passed Pickle over to her for a minute so I could grab my phone and text Becky.

Hey, I’ll pay you back if you can find a cat harness that will fit Pickle. And also, have a great time on shore!

When I looked back at Laila, snuggling with my cat, I realized having both of us in here was going to make it twice as hard to get out of here without the little guy making a fuss. I reached out for him and she passed him over.

“You’re going to have to go out into the hallway first,” I told Laila as I placed Pickle on my upper bunk—as far as possible from the door. “And can you take my camera?” Thankfully, she was happy to help.

And then I tried to ignore her laughing at me as I ran for the door, slammed it tight behind me, and collapsed against it to catch my breath.

She had no idea what a little escape artist Pickle could be.