Free Dark Passage by Marcia Talley

commented.
    â€˜What?’ Liz glanced up from her work.
    â€˜David Warren. He’s over at the bar.’
    As we watched, David reached across the bar, seized Pia’s hand and pulled her gently toward him. He was speaking too earnestly, too quietly for us to hear, but Pia didn’t seem alarmed. She listened, then nodded, before slowly withdrawing her hand.
    â€˜I don’t think they’re discussing
le vin du jour,
’ Liz said.
    As I watched, Pia shrugged, turned and, keeping her head bowed, began filling the glasses on the tray with sparkling wine.
    David had been dismissed. For several seconds he didn’t move; then he shook his head, did a smart about-face and disappeared up the double staircase that led to the upper decks.
    â€˜I wonder what that was all about?’ I whispered.
    â€˜We could ask Pia, I suppose, but that would be nosy.’ Liz’s blue eyes sparkled.
    â€˜Of course it would,’ I grinned, ‘but that’s never stopped me before.’
    By the time four p.m. rolled around, all but a few of the knitters had packed up and returned to their staterooms. When the coast was relatively clear, Liz and I approached the bar. I nudged Liz. ‘You go first,’ she whispered.
    We perched ourselves on a pair of bar stools, comfortably upholstered in the same white leather as the chairs.
    â€˜What can I get for you, ladies?’ Pia wanted to know.
    â€˜I think I’m in the mood for something crisp and dry,’ I said.
    â€˜You got it.’ Pia bent down, opened the sliding glass door on an under-counter refrigerator, selected a bottle, uncorked it and poured me a glass. ‘Try this. It’s called Assyrtiko. If you like Chablis, you’ll like Assyrtiko.’
    I took a sip and smiled appreciatively. ‘Zesty,’ I said. ‘A bit lemony. I
do
like it.’
    I set the glass down on the bar. ‘What did David want?’ I asked, hoping to catch her off guard.
    Pia’s eyebrows shot up into her bangs. ‘David? Oh, you mean David Warren.’ She caught her lower lip between her teeth and made a major production of twisting the cork back into the bottle. Only after she’d returned the Assyrtiko to the fridge did she return her attention to us. She rested her forearms on the bar, leaned forward and spoke softly. ‘He wanted to ask me a question. I used to know his daughter.’
    â€˜We’re assigned to the same table at dinner,’ Liz confided before I could pry any further. ‘I’ve tried to draw David out, but he doesn’t say much. He looks so sad!’
    Pia considered us seriously, her green eyes solemn. Something in what Liz had said must have struck a sympathetic chord, because she managed a cheerless smile and started talking again. ‘He has reason to be. His daughter, Charlotte, used to work for Phoenix. About eighteen months ago, we were serving together on the
Voyager
. Somewhere between Jamaica and the Cayman Islands, Char simply vanished. They combed the ship for her, of course, but she never turned up. The only possibility was that she went overboard.’
    I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. ‘Did she jump?’
    Pia shrugged. ‘Nobody knows. When Security checked the cams, they saw Char out on deck around half past five in the morning, talking on her cell phone. She wandered around the corner, out of range of the camera and poof! Gone! All they ever found was one of her red heels lying on the deck not far from where she must have gone over.’
    Something was wrong with that picture. With the exception of the cabaret dancers, none of the staff on board
Islander
wore high-heeled shoes. ‘Was Charlotte a dancer?’ I asked.
    â€˜No,’ Pia said, ‘but it was her night off, and we were in port, so she dressed up to the nines and went out clubbing with some of the staff. Sadly, Tom and I had a show that night so I couldn’t go