Page 10 of Tiki Hut Tragedy (Cruise Director Millie Mysteries #6)
“It’s Dixie Trent,” Millie said. “She hasn’t been rescued.”
Dave Patterson repeated what Astrid had told her, how Dixie sounded the alarm, thinking something was crawling on her and creating a panic. “She may have hit her head and gone under.”
“How awful.” Cat pressed her hand to her chest.
“It was very chaotic,” Zema said. “I pulled a few of the women back on board. Between the rescue vehicle and others who jumped in, I thought we found them all.”
“The marine branch of the island’s police force has been called in to assist with the rescue. Sharky will continue searching until additional help arrives.” Patterson motioned toward Millie and Cat. “I need to have a private word with Mr. Zema. ”
“Of course.” Millie grabbed Cat’s arm and hurried off, stopping when they were a safe distance away. “Maybe during the confusion, Dixie was knocked unconscious.”
“Or maybe she swam to shore.”
“It’s possible. I mean, the tiki hut wasn’t too far out.” Millie gave Cat a brief description of the woman. “It wouldn’t hurt for us to look around to see if we can find her.”
Starting at the far end of the beach, they worked their way back toward the dock, moving at a slow pace as they scoured the area, taking note of the beachgoers all along the water.
Returning to their starting point, Millie studied their surroundings. “Let’s check the restrooms and restaurants. Maybe we missed her.”
“Lead the way.”
Once again, the friends searched high and low for Dixie the Destroyer, to no avail .
“We aren’t the only ones looking for Dixie.” Cat pointed out a large group of the ship’s security team gathered near the water’s edge.
“Both in the water and on land.” Millie watched as another boat with some sort of emblem on the side worked its way along the coast. “Let’s keep looking.”
Doubling down on their efforts, the friends made a second sweep, hoping to find the missing woman.
An entire team of searchers joined them. As the minutes dragged past, it became increasingly clear Dixie had not reached shore.
“I hate to say it, but I need to get back to work.”
“Me too,” Cat said. “We need a miracle…a miracle Dixie somehow swam parallel to the shore and ended up farther along the beach.”
Reaching the gangway, Millie followed her friend onto the ship. She dinged her keycard, noting the somber mood of the security staff. Because of the excursion’s proximity to the ship, she knew passengers would be wondering what had happened.
She and Cat parted ways at the stairwell with Millie heading home to swap out her shorts and sleeveless shirt for her work uniform. Stepping onto the bridge, she noticed Nic and several of the officers standing in front of the wall of windows, looking out.
While she changed, Millie thought about Zema’s comment that Dixie had seemed nervous. Perhaps she’d freaked out over nothing and inadvertently created a panic.
Based on previous interactions, she knew that not all the contestants were friendly competitors.
Dixie was the reigning champion, which meant she was a serious contender, a person who had an excellent shot at winning the competition—a pile of cash, national attention and a pilot television show which could turn into a multi-million dollar career.
A horrifying thought crept into Millie’s mind. What if someone had caused the accident, hoping to get rid of Dixie?
Wendy the Wolfette and Gail the Gobbler were also top contenders. Clearly, tensions ran high…case in point was the food fight. And then there was Hotshot Hannah, who acted like she was running the show.
But to murder a competitor to win an eating competition? Even if someone had intentionally caused the panic, there was no guarantee they would be successful in eliminating Dixie. Or maybe Dixie wasn’t the target. Maybe she was the instigator, had deliberately caused a panic and her plan backfired.
Tink. Millie snatched her phone from her pocket, glancing at the text from Danielle. Did you forget about the belly flop?
On my way. Millie darted out of the apartment. Exiting the bridge, she climbed the stairs to the lido deck. As she drew closer, she noticed the house band playing a mixture of steel drums and calypso while passengers soaked up the bright Caribbean sun.
Danielle caught Millie’s eye and ran over. “A passenger mentioned some sort of accident. Do you know what happened?”
“It was the Belly Busters’ tiki hut excursion. Dixie the Destroyer thought something was crawling on her. Everyone panicked and ran to one side. The hut tipped, dumping everyone in the water.”
Danielle’s eyes grew round as saucers. “Oh my gosh. Are they okay?”
“Everyone but Dixie, who is still missing.”
“Missing?”
“Cat and I watched it happen. It was pretty chaotic. She may have hit her head and gone under.”
“How awful. ”
“The security team is still searching the water and along the shore.”
“In case she swam to shore,” Danielle said.
“Yeah. Cat and I looked, but we couldn’t find her.” Millie noticed a crowd gathering off to the side. “Are we ready to belly flop?”
“I thought it would be fun to switch things up a little and host a funny flop.”
“I like it. I’ll follow your lead.”
Danielle grabbed her microphone and climbed onto the edge of the pool. “Who’s ready for the pool competition?”
Woot, woot, the crowd enthusiastically replied.
“Awesome, because instead of a belly flop, we’re trying something new…a funny flop. I’ve already selected a panel of judges who will rate each flop on a scale of 1 to 10.”
She rattled off the list of rules, similar to the traditional belly flop. Contestants weren’t allowed to perform dangerous stunts, use props deemed unsafe, and they had to keep it clean—as in Rated G for everyone.
Millie stood at the other end, directing the first competitor to the deep end of the pool while a crowd gathered along the sides to watch.
“First up is Ducky Dave.”
Flop. Flop. A man sporting “rubber ducky” feet, aka fins, flapped and flopped across the open deck. Grasping the handrails, he cautiously backed up the steps. Someone in the crowd let loose a catcall.
Millie burst out laughing. Duckbill lips matched his yellow webbed plastic feet. Painted on his hairy abdomen was a round red bullseye. On closer inspection, Millie noticed a yellow duck, similar to the ones passengers hid around the ship, tied around his neck, dangling like a necklace.
Ducky Dave lifted his right arm, cupped his palm over his armpit and let loose a loud quacking sound .
The audience roared with laughter.
He shuffled to the deep end of the pool. “Ducky Dave for the win!” he shouted.
Using momentum, Ducky leapt into the air, performed a full turn, his feet and duck bill spinning around before hitting the water with grace and speed, splashing those who had gathered inside the splash zone.
He popped out of the water and swam to the edge before climbing out.
“Standby for your ranking,” Danielle said.
The judges, a girl who couldn’t have been more than five, a teenager, a woman in her thirties, a man with a thick gray beard and bald head, along with a couple Millie met the previous night who were celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary began lifting their scorecards.
“Ten, nine, ten, eight, ten and ten. ”
The crowd applauded, hooting and hollering while Ducky Dave took a bow.
Up next was a blonde clad in an itsy bitsy, teenie weenie purple polka dot bikini. She got several wolf whistles, strutting along the side of the pool, posing and blowing kisses to her admirers.
Placing both hands over her head, and in perfect form, she dove into the deep end. Down she went until she hit bottom. She surfaced moments later and swam to the other side. Dripping wet, she stood on the edge and took a bow to another round of wolf whistles and catcalls.
The judges were a little less enthusiastic about Blond Barbie.
The competition continued with several more creative combinations—a Hawaiian-themed ensemble complete with lei, a flamingo floatie with the contestant sporting a matching headband. The final competitor was a young boy Millie guessed to be around ten years old dressed as a pirate .
“Our last contestant is Gunpowder Gordon, the most ruthless pirate sailing the high seas,” Danielle said.
“Walk the plank,” he growled, brandishing a plastic sword while Mom and Dad stood by, keeping close tabs on the swashbuckler.
Placing a light hand on his back, Millie directed him toward the center of the pool and away from the deep end. He pointed his sword at her, scrunching up his face in an attempt to look menacing. “Dead men tell no tales!” he yelled.
“It’s a good thing I’m not a man,” Millie laughed.
“I best be on my flopping.” Gunpowder handed her his sword. Adjusting his britches, the pirate hollered, “Thar she blows,” before cannonballing into the water.
Millie turned away in the nick of time to avoid getting a face full of water .
Gunpowder Gordon emerged, splashing and swimming around. He exited on the far side where Millie caught up with him and returned his sword.
The applause was as loud, if not louder than Ducky Dave’s. Having stolen the hearts of the judges, young Gunpowder received perfect tens across the board.
Danielle motioned to Millie. “How about a funny flop from our fantabulous cruise director Millie Armati?”
The crowd applauded loudly, chanting her name. “Millie, Millie, Millie.”
“Oh no.” Millie shook her head and began backing away from the edge of the pool. Wearing her Bermuda work shorts and crisp, collared pullover shirt, she wasn’t dressed for a dunk in the pool.
Reaching the end, she started to step off. Her foot slipped. With arms flailing, she desperately tried to regain her balance and had almost succeeded. With a nudge to the left, she slid again.
Lifting her hands in the air, Millie cartwheeled into the pool, landing with a loud splash. Thankfully, she fell in the deep end. Down she went before popping back up, gasping for air.