Free Set Sail for Murder by R. T. Jordan Page A

leaning her elbows on the counter as she read a book. Polly sized up the clerk and figured she looked nerdy enough to perhaps have been friendless as a kid, and therefore may have had time to watch reruns of
The Polly Pepper Playhouse
instead of being chased by boys. Polly placed her hands on her hips, tilted her head to a forty-degree angle, smiled brightly, and cheerfully called out in her well-known Polly Pepper falsetto, “I’m hee-er!”
    The startled employee recoiled. When she recovered she instantly recognized Polly. “Oh, my stars! It’s … um, you … from the DVD box! Wow! Your hair really is that color! Does Bozo mind?”
    Despite her annoyance, Polly maintained her famous and infectious smile and moved into the store. She reached out to shake the young woman’s hand. “I’m a terrible guest onthis adorable little boat of yours. I should have dropped by sooner to introduce myself. I’m Polly Pepper, of course.”
    “Tiffany-Amber. Of course.”
    “Is Tiffany-Amber responsible for taking such good care of my babies?” Polly pointed to the large display of DVDs. “They look dusted and as fresh as the day they came out of the factory.”
    “They don’t require much care and feeding,” said Tiffany-Amber. “Anyway, nobody touches ‘em. In fact, we’ve just slashed the price—again. You’d think there’d be at least a little interest. ‘Specially since that actress who got sliced and diced in the spa is the star.”
    Tim and Placenta simultaneously reached out to steady Polly.
    “You’ll think I’m an empty-headed, vain, and ego-driven legend, but I’m simply dying to know who is gobbling up my precious body of work,” Polly said.
    “As I said, the fish aren’t biting.” Tiffany-Amber closed her copy of
Killer Cruise.
    “Still, I must thank each and every person who purchased my collection. They’ll naturally want my autograph, for sure,” Polly said. “Would you be an incredible doll and provide me with a list of all the passengers whose journey I’m helping to make extraspecial by their selecting this amazing and historic bit of television memorabilia?”
    Tiffany-Amber paused. “Gee. Um. Cashless cruising is how it works on board, so we probably have a record of the sales. But I think passengers’ purchases are like confidential or something. Like ATM PIN numbers or sins you confess to a priest.”
    Polly surreptitiously nudged Tim. He reached out to Tiffany-Amber and introduced himself. Instantly, his blue eyes, deep dimples, and warm smile cleaved Tiffany-Amber’s rapidly pounding heart. “Hey ya,” he said in his most seductive voice. “Listen. Here’s a grand scheme. Mom—Polly Pepper, I mean—is giving an intimate private cocktailsoirée tomorrow night in the Lusitania Lounge,” he lied. “Just a bunch of used-to-be-semifamous and now totally forgotten has-beens hanging out and wondering what happened to their lives and careers. It’d be cool to be with someone like you to keep me from slitting my wrists when they start counting who had the most guest appearances on
The Love Boat.”
    Tim had Tiffany-Amber’s heart at first drool. Not only did she eagerly accept the invitation but she decided that she could indeed call up an inventory of purchases from the store’s database. In moments she accessed the Excel document on which the names of every passenger who purchased Polly’s DVD collection were entered. She printed out a copy and handed it to Tim, who folded the paper and gave Tiffany-Amber a warm smile and a thank-you that practically melted her plastic name badge.
    Tiffany-Amber reluctantly took her eyes off Tim for a moment and looked at Polly. “You won’t get writer’s cramp signing from this list. If you start now, I’ll bet you finish before the flavor’s gone from my gum.” She snapped a wad of Bazooka.
    “I’ll give it my best shot,” Polly said, trying to suppress her irritation at both Tiffany-Amber, and the 2,000 plus passengers’