considered anything she experienced as fodder for her plot. âAccording to several Web sites I found, shipâs security isnât equipped to handle murder investigations. They put the body in the morgue and they mightâemphasis on the word
might
âcordon off the scene, but most forensic evidence is lost.â
âYouâre kidding me!â Skye was appalled that there was so little effort to solve crimes committed on cruise ships. âWhy is that?â
âLike that security officer told you, the cruise lines donât want to spoil the picture of an idyllic vacation, so they tend to sweep under the rug any incidents that might mar that image.â
âThatâs just wrong.â Skye was horrified that criminals went free because of the fear that investigating their crime might cause a public relations problem. âHow do the cruise lines get away with that, especially since so many passengers are Americans?â
âThereâs a subcommittee in Congress conducting hearings on the issue.â Trixie lifted her hands, then letthem fall. âBut who knows if anything will change. Meanwhile, the cruise lines have agreed to turn any victims or victimâs bodies over to the FBI when they return to their home port.â
âAnd we wonât be back in Fort Lauderdale for five more days,â Skye said, half to herself. A second later, she leaned closer to Guinevere and said to Trixie, âI donât think sheâs breathing anymore. Should I try mouth to mouth?â
Before Trixie could answer, a man dressed in an officerâs uniform pushing a gurney dashed into the lounge. On his heels came several crew members wearing black T-shirts with S ECURITY stenciled in white across the front. Skye waved and the group rushed toward her.
âIâm Dr. Jimenez.â The man pushed Skye aside and said, âIâll take over.â
The security team evaluated the situation, then ushered Skye and Trixie to the far side of the lounge. Because of the frosted partition between them and the crime scene, they could no longer see what was happening with Guinevere. The security guy ordered them to stay put, then used a walkie-talkie to contact his boss.
While the two women waited, Trixie slipped the memory card out of her camera.
When she tucked it into her bra and replaced it with a spare from the pouch around her waist, Skye leaned over and whispered, âWhat are you doing that for?â
âIf they search our belongings, they might confiscate my Nikon, and I want to make sure I donât lose the pictures I took.â Trixie frowned and began to repeatedly hit the cameraâs DELETE button. âI donât know if the images stay on the Nikon once the card is removed, but Iâm not taking any chances.â
âWhy?â
âIâm not sure.â Trixie bit her lip. âI just have a hunch that I should. If they see them on the camera and not on the memory card, they might realize I have a spare and take it, too.â
Skye started to respond, but was distracted when Lucille Trencher ran into the nightclub and hurried over to where the doctor was working. A few minutes later, she walked into the area where Skye and Trixie sat. She frowned when she saw Skye.
âWe meet again.â Officer Trencher looked down at Skye, her expression now neutral. âWhoâs your friend?â Once the introductions had been made, the security chief had one of her staff take Trixie away and said to Skye, âWhat happened?â
âMy friend and I were looking for my mom,â Skye explained, then crossed her fingers and fibbed. âWe wanted to see if she was available to join us for lunch.â Considering Mayâs history with Guinevere, Skye didnât think it was wise to admit that she was actually checking up on her mother. âMom mentioned that she had a knitting group activity in Cloud Walkers from ten until