not what you think,” he said.
“Silly boy. It’s
exactly
what I think,” Polly sniggered. “We’ve both come from a massage … in a manner of speaking. Anyway, I’m far too busy to be envious of your fun and games.” She stopped and looked at her son. “Is that a bald patch I see on your crown, darling man? I think you’re receding.”
“Bald! What? No!” Tim protested. I’m too young….”
Polly shrugged. “Perhaps it’s time to have the Rogaine talk with your doctor.”
As the pair continued along the carpeted hallway, an image in the distance suddenly caught Polly’s attention. She stopped short and grabbed hold of Tim’s arm. As she peered down the corridor, Tim followed her gaze.
“Placenta!” they both called out in surprise as Polly’s maid and best friend closed a cabin door behind her. Placenta turned toward the voices as Polly and Tim sidled up to their friend. For an instant, she looked embarrassed. However, she quickly crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “As Miss Mae West said, ‘To err is human, but it feels divine.’”
Back in her stateroom, Polly gave Tim and Placenta a rundown of what she’d discovered during her hour of massage therapy. “Laura’s only been dead for a day and already I have three possible suspects!” she beamed.
Placenta huffed. “Get a copy of the passenger list and you’ll probably find a dozen more,” she said, pouring three flutes of champagne. “I’ve already seen Peggy Lipton, Liz Smith, and Jane Curtin in the gym. They’re nice ladies, but I’ll wager that Laura wasn’t on their Facebook friends lists.”
“What about Deena Howitzer?” Tim said. “We love her to pieces, but she did threaten to kill Laura. And, she wanted to do it with a knife.”
“I chatted with Deena. She wasn’t in mourning, but shealso had a reasonable alibi. Drinks with the captain all evening long.”
Polly accepted her champagne that Placenta handed her. “My last sip. I have a show to do in an hour,” she said as she lifted her glass. “I’d say Daddy Warbucks is the most promising of my suspects.”
“You don’t even know he exists,” Tim said. “And why would he kill someone he doesn’t know? Furthermore, why do you think Talia might be a suspect? What’s her motive? Even Rosemary doesn’t have a good enough reason, that you know of, to hurt Laura.”
Polly ignored Tim. “If I could find out who he is, the gazillionaire I mean, I’ll wager that we’d be closer to solving the crime.
“By the by,” Polly said, “since when do we keep secrets from each other about our carnal diversions? Who the hell were you two making whoopee with at this relatively early hour of the day?”
Tim and Placenta both exchanged smiles. “You go first,” Tim said.
“No, you go first,” Placenta countered.
“Ladies before gentlemen,” Tim insisted.
Placenta sighed. “I swear I was minding my own business. Sort of. You know I’m a sucker for a man who—”
“Has a pulse,” Polly interrupted.”
“Who has musical talent!” Placenta snapped. “I was walking through the atrium this morning, on my way to Cartier to pick out what you’ll be buying me for Christmas, and I was drawn to the piano player. He was cute. Played unusual chords.” Placenta’s thoughts drifted back to seeing the pianist dressed in a tuxedo, with a white silk handkerchief in his breast pocket. “His fingers were long and bony. The backs of his hands were as smooth and white as the piano keys.”
Tim interrupted. “Short, feather-light hair? Prematurelydarkish gray and combed just so? Sort of an aristocratic face, with a deep cleft in his chin? British accent?”
“Er …” Placenta said warily.
“Lawrence Deerfield.” Tim dismissed the man. “Been there.”
“This time he smiled at me, not at you!” Placenta continued. “At first I thought he was just happy to have someone pay attention to his playing. But then …”
“He played ‘Love Is a
“Silly boy. It’s
exactly
what I think,” Polly sniggered. “We’ve both come from a massage … in a manner of speaking. Anyway, I’m far too busy to be envious of your fun and games.” She stopped and looked at her son. “Is that a bald patch I see on your crown, darling man? I think you’re receding.”
“Bald! What? No!” Tim protested. I’m too young….”
Polly shrugged. “Perhaps it’s time to have the Rogaine talk with your doctor.”
As the pair continued along the carpeted hallway, an image in the distance suddenly caught Polly’s attention. She stopped short and grabbed hold of Tim’s arm. As she peered down the corridor, Tim followed her gaze.
“Placenta!” they both called out in surprise as Polly’s maid and best friend closed a cabin door behind her. Placenta turned toward the voices as Polly and Tim sidled up to their friend. For an instant, she looked embarrassed. However, she quickly crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “As Miss Mae West said, ‘To err is human, but it feels divine.’”
Back in her stateroom, Polly gave Tim and Placenta a rundown of what she’d discovered during her hour of massage therapy. “Laura’s only been dead for a day and already I have three possible suspects!” she beamed.
Placenta huffed. “Get a copy of the passenger list and you’ll probably find a dozen more,” she said, pouring three flutes of champagne. “I’ve already seen Peggy Lipton, Liz Smith, and Jane Curtin in the gym. They’re nice ladies, but I’ll wager that Laura wasn’t on their Facebook friends lists.”
“What about Deena Howitzer?” Tim said. “We love her to pieces, but she did threaten to kill Laura. And, she wanted to do it with a knife.”
“I chatted with Deena. She wasn’t in mourning, but shealso had a reasonable alibi. Drinks with the captain all evening long.”
Polly accepted her champagne that Placenta handed her. “My last sip. I have a show to do in an hour,” she said as she lifted her glass. “I’d say Daddy Warbucks is the most promising of my suspects.”
“You don’t even know he exists,” Tim said. “And why would he kill someone he doesn’t know? Furthermore, why do you think Talia might be a suspect? What’s her motive? Even Rosemary doesn’t have a good enough reason, that you know of, to hurt Laura.”
Polly ignored Tim. “If I could find out who he is, the gazillionaire I mean, I’ll wager that we’d be closer to solving the crime.
“By the by,” Polly said, “since when do we keep secrets from each other about our carnal diversions? Who the hell were you two making whoopee with at this relatively early hour of the day?”
Tim and Placenta both exchanged smiles. “You go first,” Tim said.
“No, you go first,” Placenta countered.
“Ladies before gentlemen,” Tim insisted.
Placenta sighed. “I swear I was minding my own business. Sort of. You know I’m a sucker for a man who—”
“Has a pulse,” Polly interrupted.”
“Who has musical talent!” Placenta snapped. “I was walking through the atrium this morning, on my way to Cartier to pick out what you’ll be buying me for Christmas, and I was drawn to the piano player. He was cute. Played unusual chords.” Placenta’s thoughts drifted back to seeing the pianist dressed in a tuxedo, with a white silk handkerchief in his breast pocket. “His fingers were long and bony. The backs of his hands were as smooth and white as the piano keys.”
Tim interrupted. “Short, feather-light hair? Prematurelydarkish gray and combed just so? Sort of an aristocratic face, with a deep cleft in his chin? British accent?”
“Er …” Placenta said warily.
“Lawrence Deerfield.” Tim dismissed the man. “Been there.”
“This time he smiled at me, not at you!” Placenta continued. “At first I thought he was just happy to have someone pay attention to his playing. But then …”
“He played ‘Love Is a
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