Every Body on Deck Read online

  Savannah nodded. “I understand, and I respect your decision. Though I do think you should take certain precautions while you’re ‘going forward,’ as you say.”

  “I fully intend to. That’s why I’ve come to see you today.”

  A tiny light flickered in Savannah’s soul. A flame of hope that one of the items on her bucket list might be checked off. A cruise to Alaska, land of natural splendor, snowcapped mountains, endless ancient forests, glistening glaciers, teeming wildlife, statuesque totem poles—

  “I want you and your entire Moonlight Magnolia Detective Agency to accompany me,” Natasha Van Cleef announced. “I’ll need you to provide protection for myself and my entourage. Of course, I’ll cover your expenses and pay you well for your services. . . .”

  Chapter 3

  “Holy cow! Did you just scream for joy or what?” Tammy exclaimed, her eyes bright with excitement. Her long, golden hair glistened in the warm light cast by the Tiffany-style dragonfly lamp suspended over Savannah’s dining table as she reached across and grabbed Savannah’s hands in hers.

  It wasn’t an easy task, because Tammy’s belly was filled with a child who was just about ready to exit, greet the world, and become the newest and youngest member of the Moonlight Magnolia Detective Agency.

  Savannah quirked an eyebrow. “Of course I didn’t scream.” She nabbed another chocolate chip and macadamia nut cookie off a nearby platter, then handed the plate to Dirk, motioning for him to send it on yet another pass around the table. “Screaming isn’t professional. I quietly, calmly accepted her offer.”

  “She screamed,” Dirk said, taking two cookies for himself and passing the platter to Waycross. “I heard her all the way inside the house. You’d have thought she’d won the lottery or at least found a box of chocolates that she’d stashed away and forgotten about.”

  “Okay, okay.” Savannah grinned. “I might have screamed. A little. Then I quietly, calmly accepted on our behalf.” She turned to John and Ryan. “Please tell me that you’ll go. You can find somebody to run the restaurant for you, can’t you? Natasha distinctly said she wants the whole agency to go along.”

  Ryan smiled his broad, handsome grin, which melted her heart every time. “Of course. We wouldn’t miss it for the world. The restaurant can do without us for a few days. Francia’s turned out to be a fantastic chef, practically runs the place herself.” He turned to his partner, John Gibson, who was sitting next to him. “With Carlos and Maria, I’m sure they won’t even miss us.”

  Dirk shoved a whole cookie into his mouth and talked around it. “What? No bodyguard jobs lined up? No starlet needing protection as she struts her stuff down a red carpet somewhere?”

  John stroked his luxurious silver mustache a few seconds before responding to the barb. “No. Nothing of import on the agenda at the moment,” he replied in his thick, aristocratic British accent. “How about you, Detective Coulter?” he asked with a sly grin. “Will the fine city of San Carmelita collapse beneath a tidal wave of crime in your absence? I can’t imagine your chief parting with such a fine piece of law-enforcing manpower as yourself on such short notice.”

  Dirk scowled. “I got vacation time comin’. Don’t you worry ’bout me.”

  Savannah turned to her brother, Waycross, who was sitting next to Tammy, rubbing her perpetually aching back. Savannah was so proud of him. The baby wasn’t even here yet, and he was already an amazing daddy. “Do you think you can get some days off from the body shop?” she asked him. “Our client wants everybody on deck and that includes you.”

  “I just finished a custom paint job on a Studebaker—a 1954 Regal Starliner. Turned out real pretty, she did.” His freckled face flushed with pride as he ran his fingers through his thick, copper waves, trying to tame the haystack. “The customer was extra happy with it. He gave me a real nice tip. I can afford to take off a week or two. Even if I couldn’t, I would. It’s a trip to Alaska, for Pete’s sake. I’ve never been on a cruise ship before!”

  “You’re going to love it!” Ryan said. “John and I have cruised a dozen times or more, and those trips have been some of our best travel adventures ever.”

  John nodded. “Excellent cuisine, breathtaking scenery. Cruising is by far the most relaxing of vacations.”

  For a moment, Savannah flashed back on the conversation she and Natasha Van Cleef had shared in her backyard. The fear in the woman’s eyes. Those ugly words printed on the paper that was now securely filed inside a clear plastic sheet protector.

  The threatening letter, Savannah’s notes concerning the interview, information about the cruise, and personal data about the author were all neatly arranged in the loose leaf notebook that lay on the table in front of Savannah.

  Before they were finished, Savannah would see to it that the notebook was bulging.

  “I certainly hope this will turn out to be a relaxing vacation for all of us,” she said. “Including our client and her entourage. With the ship sailing in three days, we have our work cut out for us. I hear that Internet access can be spotty on a cruise. Phone service, too, sometimes. So, Tammy, you’re going to have to get your online sleuthing done, or at least well underway, before we leave.”

  Tammy donned her most official, Look-Out-’Cause-Nancy Drew’s-on-the-Case face and pulled her electronic tablet from the tote at her feet. “Got it! I’ll start with background checks on everyone who’s traveling with Ms. Van Cleef,” she said.

  “Not to mention Ms. Van Cleef herself,” Dirk added.

  Savannah tapped her finger on the binder in front of her. “In here we have the things our client would like us to know about her.”

  Tammy grinned. “It’s up to me to dig up the stuff she probably wouldn’t want us to know.”

  “Exactly. Sometimes in order to keep a body safe, you have to invade their privacy.”

  Waycross tweaked a lock of Tammy’s golden hair and gave her an adoring look. “My girl’s the best in the world at that. She won’t stop until we know what brand of underwear that lady’s got in her underwear drawer.”

  Giggling, Tammy switched on her tablet. “What brand, size, color, and with or without tummy control.”

  “It’s downright indecent when you think about it—makin’ a living by diggin’ up dirt on folks,” said a soft voice behind Savannah.

  She turned and saw her grandmother standing in the doorway.

  Gran looked considerably less chipper than usual. Her shoulders were stooped, as though she was overly tired, and her usual bright smile was drooping at the corners.

  Apparently, uncovering meth labs and owning a nosy bloodhound was hard work.

  Savannah jumped up and offered her grandmother her chair. Once she had Gran settled, Savannah passed the plate of cookies under her nose. “How was your nap?” she asked her.

  Gran shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

  Yes, Savannah thought. Something is definitely amiss with Granny.

  Many words could be used to describe her grandmother. But “lackluster” was not one of them. Unlike most people Savannah knew, if Gran was in a bad mood, there was a good reason.

  “I just figured I’d stay up there in bed, instead of being down here underfoot. I know when it’s time to get lost.” She rolled her eyes, and for a moment Savannah saw a strong resemblance between her and the long-faced Colonel. “Far be it from me,” Gran continued, “to make a nuisance of myself when there’s important detective business going on.”

  Ah. So, that’s it. Savannah smiled to herself. She glanced around the table and saw that the rest of the Moonlight Magnolia gang was having a hard time hiding their own grins.

  Thirty minutes before, as Gran napped upstairs, or at least pretended to, the cruise had been well discussed by everyone in attendance at the dining table. One unfortunate detail in particular.

  When ticking off the members of the agency who would be receiving complimentary passage, Natasha Van Cleef had not mentioned Granny Reid.

  As far as the Moonlight Magn
olia gang was concerned, that presented a problem of the most grievous nature.

  As their very first item of business, the issue had been properly addressed, thoroughly discussed, and a solution had been found.

  Savannah’s cookie jar had been passed and was now stuffed with donations, ensuring that Granny would be on board when they left Seattle.

  Of course, Savannah would have to find a way to hide the fact that Gran’s ticket had been paid for “family style.” That would smack of charity and Gran’s pride wouldn’t tolerate such a thing.

  Being officially hired to do a job was one thing. Being treated to a freebie by hardworking people with little surplus income was something else.

  Savannah knew she would also have to find a way to avoid telling Gran an outright lie. Colonel Beauregard’s bloodhound, meth-sniffing, super-nose couldn’t hold a candle to Gran’s ability to sniff out a falsehood.

  Savannah cleared her throat, pulled an extra chair up to the table, and sat next to her grandmother. Amused, she watched Granny demolish one cookie and reach for another. In typical Reid-woman fashion, Gran might be upset, but never so much that it dulled her appetite.

  “I hope,” Savannah said, “that while you were lolling about upstairs on my guest bed—”

  Dirk cleared his throat. “Uh, hmm. Excuse me, but I do believe that your ‘guest bed’ is now my ‘man-cave couch.’”

  “That’s called a ‘futon,’ Dirk-o,” Tammy told him, her pert nose elevated a couple of notches.

  “Not in my man cave, it’s not,” he replied.

  John gave Tammy an affectionate nudge. “He’s right, love. There’s an article in the current Architectural Digest devoted to this very topic. No futons, armoires, or chaise lounges are allowed in a man cave.”

  Ryan shook his head solemnly. “Simply not done. Major decorating faux pas.”

  “That’s right.” Dirk seemed surprised at this rare, impromptu surge of male support. “None of those ‘fo paws’ allowed either.”

  Savannah groaned and turned back to her grandmother. “I hope while you were resting up there, you were giving some serious thought about what you’re going to do with the Colonel while you’re away.”

  “Away?”

  Savannah caught a trace of a smile that lit Granny’s face, but only for a second before she squelched it.

  “Yes, away,” Savannah repeated. “The cruise itself is seven days. Plus a day to fly there and the day to come back.” She drew a deep breath and plunged ahead, using her best matter-of-fact voice. “If you want, I can ask Mrs. Normandy next door to watch him. I know she won’t mind. She comes over here and feeds Cleo and Di when I’m gone. She talks to them and pets them and makes sure they don’t feel too neglected. She loves dogs, too. Used to have a big German shepherd. I’m sure she’d be happy to entertain the Colonel over there at her house while we’re gone.”

  At that point, even Gran could no longer maintain the cool, calm, and collected routine. She let out a shriek of joy before grabbing Savannah’s hand in the Granny Death Grip—the one she had perfected, years past, while refereeing children’s wrestling matches.

  Raising nine kids was definitely a “hands-on” skill, and she had perfected it.

  “Do you mean to say I get to go, too?” she asked, her blue eyes lit with childlike joy, her voice slightly tremulous.

  Savannah cocked her head to one side and gave her very best “tsk, tsk,” accompanied by her most convincing look of pseudosurprise. “Of course. After all the cases you helped us solve, we can’t set sail without you along to keep us on the right path.”

  Gran gave a little sniff and lifted her chin. “I figured that fancy author didn’t understand the advantage of having a highly experienced detective like myself on the job. Not everybody appreciates the wisdom that a senior citizen has to offer when circumstances take a turn for the dire and dangerous.”

  A turn for the dire and dangerous.... How quaint, Savannah thought, suppressing a chuckle. Gran might mispronounce a word here and there, but she had a flair for the dramatic. She was never at a loss when it came to expressing herself.

  Suddenly, Granny turned in her chair to face Savannah. She took her granddaughter’s hand between her own and once again applied the Death Grip.

  “You tell me the truth, Miss Savannah, and don’t be lyin’ to me, ’cause you know you ain’t no good at it.”

  Savannah gulped. “Okay.”

  “Did that Natasha Van Cleef herself ask for me to go along? Is she the one footin’ the bill?”

  Time slowed.

  Savannah could hear the kitchen clock ticking.

  She could feel her heart pounding, and her face turning hotter by the moment.

  Her mouth felt as dry as a bale of Georgia cotton in October.

  This was it; the jig was up.

  “Hey, Granny! Want this last cookie?” From out of nowhere the nearly empty platter appeared under Gran’s nose. Dirk was on the other end. “I’ve already had a dozen or so. But if you don’t want this last one, I’ll eat it.”

  Granny snatched the lone chocolate chipper off the dish. “I most certainly do!” she said. “No point in me aiding and abetting you in making a pig outta yourself.”

  Dirk laughed and chucked her under the chin. “You are absolutely right about that. I can make a pig outta myself without any help whatsoever.”

  Feeling a gush of relief and gratitude toward her fast-acting husband, Savannah jumped up from her chair and rushed over to the refrigerator. “You know what?” she said with only the slightest quiver in her voice. “I’m pretty sure I have some of that homemade coffee ice cream here in the freezer! How about a big bowl, Granny? I’ve even got chocolate syrup and whipped cream to slap on it.”

  A few minutes later, as Savannah watched her grandmother finish the last bite of the decadent dessert, she couldn’t help but congratulate herself—and Dirk—on outsmarting the old lady. Gran was quick, but on a good day Savannah liked to think that she, with some help from Dirk, was quicker.

  “Now that I’ve finished my ice cream,” Gran said, pushing the bowl away, “I want to take a minute to thank you all for your loving kindness and generosity toward me.”

  For a moment, the rest of the gang sat in stunned silence, unsure of what to say or do. Surely she didn’t mean . . .

  Finally, Savannah managed to say, “It’s just cookies and ice cream, Granny. Nothing to get too excited about.”

  Gran shook her head. “No. It’s about taking an ocean cruise, something I’d hoped and prayed I’d get to do sometime during my life, and not just any cruise. An Alaska cruise. A land of mystery and wonder if ever there was one. An adventure of a lifetime. The adventure of my lifetime.”

  She took a long look around the table, pausing on each face, her beautiful eyes conveying all the love she felt for each individual sitting there. “I don’t know how you pulled it off. Probably passed a hat and took up an ol’-fashioned offerin’.”

  One look at the sheepish expressions around the table told the tale. Guilty as charged.

  “You know I don’t cotton to the idea of charity . . . unless it’s a life and death situation.”

  Savannah reached over and put her arm around her grandmother’s shoulders. “It’s not charity, Granny. Not when it’s from your family.”

  Gran reached over and ran her finger around the inside of the ice cream bowl. “Oh, yes it is,” she said, before licking the residue from her fingertip. “But I’ll take it. For heaven’s sake, it’s a cruise to Alaska! I’d take that even if it was a prize from one of those sin-ridden casinos in Las Vegas. A blessing is a blessing! If that particular blessing wants to rain down on me, I’m just gonna sit right here and get wet lettin’ it.”

  Chapter 4

  “I didn’t realize your in-laws were coming with us,” Tammy whispered to Savannah as they jostled along in the seemingly endless queue inside Seattle’s Pier 91, awaiting their turn to pass through the security check.

  “I d
idn’t either.” Savannah shifted her heavy tote to her other arm and silently cursed herself for feeling the need to bring those extra boxes of Godiva truffles. She had chided Dirk for trying to hide a twelve-pack of his favorite beer in his suitcase. But at the last moment the thought of going Godiva free for nine days had sent her into a full-blown anxiety attack.

  She’d felt a bit like an addict hiding those chocolate boxes between layers of her lingerie. She was hoping the particular security agent who examined her would have qualms about rifling through a lady’s unmentionables.

  Glancing ahead in line at her husband, who was being a dutiful son, carrying an enormous shopping bag for his mother, Savannah felt a momentary flash of annoyance. But she did her best to quell it. Dirk had spent precious little time with his biological parents, having only recently been reunited with them. He was overjoyed to have them aboard.

  Savannah told herself she should be happy for him.

  She was. Sort of.

  Though she hoped they would understand this was a working trip for the rest of the group, and the Moonlight Magnolia gang might not be free to socialize day and night.

  “When did you find out they were coming?” Tammy asked, as the line moved forward an inch.

  “Just last evening, when we spent the night with them. Apparently, Richard was able to nab cheap last minute tickets.”

  “Cheap. Dora’s favorite kind,” Tammy whispered back, snickering. “What’s in that big bag of hers, the one Dirk’s carrying?”

  “Groceries.”

  Tammy’s mouth dropped. “Seriously? Doesn’t she know that on a cruise ship there’s food everywhere, and it’s all free?”

  “I told her, but she didn’t believe me.”

  “What did she bring? Tuna sandwiches?”

  “Peanut butter and jelly. Tuna’s too expensive.”

  “She actually said that?”

  “She did.”