Elaine was beautifully dressed in an off-the-shoulder black gown and Red looked rather dashing in a dark suit when they knocked at Myrtle's door to drop off Jack. Jack ran in and hugged Myrtle around the leg.

Elaine said apologetically, "He's been sort of fussy this afternoon and didn't want to take a nap. If you have any problems, just call the restaurant."

"Problems? With Jack?" Myrtle made a scoffing sound. "He and I always have fun, don't we Jack? We're going to play a little and then we'll watch a little television. I'm going to show him how to make a snowflake out of folded paper and scissors."

Red looked extremely dubious about this. "Scissors and toddlers aren't the best combination, Mama. He's likely to cut his hair. Or yours."

Myrtle put her hands on her hips. "He certainly won't! What nonsense, Red. These are safety scissors and they'll barely cut through paper. You'd think I'd never raised children! Now off with you."

"You've had something to eat?" asked Elaine, still hovering.

At that moment, a voice behind them said, "Room service."

Myrtle smiled. "I believe Miles has decided to join me for supper in my room."

Red shook his head and stepped out of the way so that Miles, carrying a tray laden with different types of foods, could pass by. "Miles, I hope you know what you're in for. This is a tiny little room for two adults and a toddler. Believe me, I know."

"It'll be fine. We'll eat so much that we'll all be sleepy," said Miles.

"Thank you both!" said Elaine fervently and she and Red left for their dinner.

"There better not be any sugar on that tray," said Myrtle, peering at the tray. "If we're to get sleepy after eating, that is."

"Naturally," said Miles. "I only brought some crackers for Jack. Sugary treats and tiny staterooms don't match."

As Myrtle suspected, everything went perfectly well. Jack ate, they made snowflakes, and then they watched television. Miles dozed off and Myrtle finished the crossword puzzle that was on the back of the ship itinerary that had been delivered that morning. Jack was always an angel when Myrtle watched him. She didn't believe Red and Elaine's tall tales of Jack's exploits.

Red and Elaine collected Jack in what seemed like record time and it was just Myrtle and Miles again.

"So—the filming, right?" asked Miles. "That sounded like the best bet for us from tonight's entertainment options."

"Yes, it definitely beat the dance competition and the piano singer," said Myrtle. "But I've got to change if we're all supposed to look as if we just came from dinner. That's what Bettina had said, anyway."

"I'll change, too," said Miles, although he looked perfectly fine in his button-down shirt and dark pants. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Myrtle put on a pair of dressy black slacks and a turquoise top. When she was smoothing down the top over the slacks, she heard a crinkling sound coming from one of her pockets. She reached her hand in with a frown. The slacks had been laundered before the trip so why was there paper in the pocket now?

She pulled out a torn-off bit of legal paper with a highly recognizable but nearly illegible scrawl on it. "Wanda!" she muttered to herself. Myrtle found her reading glasses and plopped down on the small sofa to peer at the paper under the light.

The paper said: sumtimz drinkin iz dedli.

"What on earth?" murmured Myrtle. She remembered that Wanda had spent a good deal of time in Myrtle's bedroom area where her packing was taking place.

There was a light tap on her door and Myrtle opened it to Miles.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

Myrtle grunted. "In a second. Here, look at this." She passed him her reading glasses and the note.

Miles, looking rather unusual with flowered reading glasses on, studied the paper. "Wanda's handiwork, I presume. Where did you find it? Is she employing carrier pigeons to deliver now?"

"It was in my pant pocket," said Myrtle with some consternation. "I'm guessing that she stuck a message in there when she left us to use the restroom."

"What do you think it means?" asked Miles. "Do you suppose that she's talking about the drunken Randolph? He's the only person I've seen so far that constantly overindulges."

"I guess. But why tell us about it? It's not like something we don't know, either—drinking is bad for you," said Myrtle.

"Yes, but she doesn't stop with the 'bad for you.' Wanda says it's deadly. So do you think we are supposed to warn Randolph to take it easy with the liquor? Or warn someone around him?" asked Miles.

"And what exactly are we supposed to say? That a functionally illiterate psychic from the American South stuffed a ratty piece of paper in my pocket before we left? That her prophecy indicates Randolph might die from drink? They'd think we were nuts. Besides, it doesn't specifically mention Randolph. No, I think we just keep our eyes open and think about it," said Myrtle. "And now I'm ready to gape at one of our favorite Tomorrow's Promise actors."

There were many, many people who'd apparently decided that the filming constituted the very best on offer for the shipboard entertainment that night. It was interesting to get a behind-the-scenes glimpse of the process. And it was interesting to see this actor get direction or take breaks or generally just act like a real person. But it was tedious. There were many different takes.

During one of the breaks, Myrtle said, "I think I'm going to take a restroom break and not come back. I've seen everything I need to see. And I don't think we're going to be able to run into Bettina or anyone else in this madness. There are so many people attending that there's no way to find anyone."

"There must be about seven hundred people here," agreed Miles. "Not half the passengers, but close to it. I'm with you—let's call it a night. Tomorrow is Glacier Bay and I want to be up early enough to reserve a spot at the window in the upper-level lounge."

Miles and Myrtle were walking down the narrow hallway to their rooms when a wild-looking Eugenia leaped into the hall. She spotted Miles and Myrtle approaching and hurried up to them. "She's gone," Eugenia gasped.

"Who? Celeste?" asked Myrtle with a frown.

"Yes. I went in to check on her and she's not in her cabin. I like to make sure my aunt is settled at night before she goes to sleep," said Eugenia. She was clasping and unclasping her hands as if to keep them from fluttering away.

Miles said, "Maybe she was hungry and left for a snack. They have snacks set up near the pool deck. I could walk there with you."

But Eugenia was shaking her head, setting her glasses askew. Her voice was anxious as she said, "But she wouldn't do that. My aunt always follows the same evening routine. She turns in at exactly the same time. She doesn't like changing anything around. And she says eating after supper gives her indigestion and prevents her from sleeping."

Eugenia seemed well-versed on what Celeste would say. "So you're saying it's extremely out of character. And you've been in her cabin. Do you mind if Miles and I take a look?"

Eugenia shook her head. She put the room card into the door with shaking hands.

They walked inside. Myrtle exclaimed, "But it's a mess in here! Was there a scuffle?"

There were papers scattered on the bed and desk. Celeste's suitcase had been pulled out from under the bed and put in the middle of the floor.

Miles asked, "Is Celeste usually untidy?"

"No. But sometimes Randolph makes a mess," said Eugenia with a shrug. "But when he does, Celeste asks me to come right in and clean it up. She doesn't like living in any type of disorder."

"Is anything missing?" asked Myrtle.

"My aunt," said Eugenia dully.

Myrtle recalled that Celeste had said Eugenia wasn't the brightest bulb in the package. "Besides your aunt. Is anything else missing?"

Eugenia looked around the messy room with a dazed expression on her face. "A champagne bottle. There was a large bottle of champagne on the desk."

Miles said, "Randolph likely took it."

Eugenia shook her head adamantly again. "No. No, he'd never take something of Celeste's. He'd just order his own drinks at the bars. The champagne was Celeste's and she was planning on drinking it while we cruised through Glacier Bay tomorrow."

Myrtle and Miles looked at each other. Champagne bottles were incredibly heavy. A good three or four pounds to heft.

Myrtle said softly, "Sometimes drinking can be deadly, to quote someone I know."

Miles opened his eyes wide.

Myrtle cleared her throat. "It sounds to me as if we need to start a search for your aunt. We should contact the ship's onboard security. And I should contact my son."

"Your son?" asked Eugenia in confusion.

"He's the police chief in my town. Very experienced. And he's traveling with me. But before I get him, let me just take a small look around." Myrtle knew she'd never get good evidence with Red around. If a crime had occurred. Which, to Myrtle, seemed very likely, with or without Wanda's prediction. Celeste also had thought her life was in danger.

The first thing that Myrtle did was to go through Celeste's closet. She felt each dress until she found one that made a crinkling sound when patted. She removed the dress, which was very simple and apparently very old, turned it inside-out, and carefully removed the pins holding the paper inside.

It was Celeste's will. And a quick reading indicated that Celeste intended on leaving everything to Eugenia. Myrtle felt a surge of smugness that she had found it.

Eugenia was still wringing her hands and looking anxious so Myrtle decided not to share this information right away. "Why don't we all go together to see my son?" she asked, glancing around the room to see if anything else provided clues to what happened. But all she saw was evidence that someone had been searching for something in the stateroom.

A couple of minutes later, they were knocking on Red's door. Elaine answered, sending them to the pool area where a late-night snack buffet was set up.

Red was taking a large bite of ice cream when he saw Myrtle, Miles, and Eugenia walking determinedly up to him. "Uh-oh," he said. "This can't be good."

Myrtle and Eugenia explained what had happened while Red listened grimly. "So you believe your aunt is missing. Based on her usual pattern of behavior."

Eugenia nodded emphatically.

Myrtle added, "And Celeste confided in me that she believed her life was in danger."

Red sighed. "Why doesn't this surprise me? Mama, you're always in the middle of everything." His expression told her that he now wanted her to have nothing more to do with this family.

Eugenia said, "I'm going to go look around the ship a bit."

As she left, Miles said in a low voice, "You know, even if it was an accident, it's not good. If she fell overboard, she'd be hitting the water very hard from such a height."

Myrtle added, "Not only that, but how cold is this water? She wouldn't be able to stand the water for very long. She'd have hypothermia."

"Let's try not to jump to conclusions," said Red in a tired voice. "Remember—the balconies outside the rooms have a pretty high railing. You have to really stand up tall to even see out. I don't think a person could accidentally fall off their stateroom balcony. Maybe she could have jumped, though."

Myrtle and Miles shook their heads. "Not the type," said Miles.

"Okay. Well, I guess our first order of business is to alert the ship's security officer. Then we can help with a search of the ship. Mama, you can provide any background information you might know to help us fill in the blanks after we've got the security guy with us," said Red, standing.

"We'll look around this deck so you can catch up with us when you've alerted security," said Myrtle. "And we'll catch up with Eugenia. She has a key."

But twenty minutes later when Red rejoined them, he was alone. He shook his head grimly when he walked up to them. "He's very sick and is under quarantine. I ended up speaking to him on the phone since he couldn't even answer his door."

Miles looked a little green. "What is it? Not norovirus, I hope." He glanced around for one of the hand sanitizing stations and then speedily walked to it to spritz his hands.

"No one knows what it is, but he's not in good shape. It could even be food poisoning. Regardless, they had to put him under quarantine. There's no one else. There's no provision for any type of police presence on cruise ships. He gave me the green light to do a private, informal investigation," said Red.

"Where do we start?" asked Miles. "It's a big ship. We haven't seen her on this deck, but for all we know, Celeste could be entering rooms after we leave them. Besides, with everyone out and walking around, it could be easy to miss seeing her."

Myrtle said, "We need to get back to her room. She might have returned there. Besides, her room seemed to provide some ... clues."

Red gave his mother a hard look for her obvious snooping and then said, "She's right. Back to her room first."

When they reached the stateroom, Miles said, "I'll stay outside. Not enough room for so many of us."

They walked in and Eugenia gave a shiver. "The room isn't usually like this."

"In what way?" asked Red.

"Messy. It doesn't usually have papers pulled out everywhere. And I was telling your mother that there was a champagne bottle missing. No one would touch her champagne," said Eugenia.

Red said, "Maybe she drank it. Did she go to a lounge, maybe, to enjoy her champagne?"

Eugenia shook her head, pushing her glasses up her nose. "No. She had plans to drink it while we were cruising through Glacier Bay. She had it this afternoon."

Red had been looking through the bits of paper. When he found the one that Myrtle recognized as the will, he stiffened and gave Eugenia a sharp look before he carefully folded the paper. "I'm going to hold onto things that I think may provide us with clues, if that's all right with you," he said smoothly.

Eugenia nodded helplessly.

Red had opened the doors to the verandah. Myrtle had already glanced outside the glass door earlier and hadn't seen anyone out on the small balcony, either sitting in one of the two chairs or sprawled on the deck.

But Red took it a step farther. He stepped into the frigid air, leaning carefully over the side, over the railing. Then he peered closer.

He stepped back in. "All the closets should have flashlights. Hand one to me, Mama."

Red took the flashlight and leaned carefully over the railing again. Then he called out to someone or something below, with no response.

He hurried in, grimly. "Can someone call the front desk? We need to get a member of the crew. Doesn't have to be security. And the ship doctor, too. There's a figure lying on top of the lifeboat tarp below."