"Trouble Aboard the Hawaiian Paradise" by Lisa Hall Deckert

It was nearly midnight when I left the club to head off to bed. I went outside on the deck, and walked over to look at the ocean. The full moon was illuminating the little white caps on the waves as we cut through the water. A gust of wind grabbed at my wrap, and I caught it just in time before it was gone overboard. I wrapped it tighter and walked to the top of the outside stairs to go down to the deck below. When I reached the top of the stairs, though, I was surprised to see a familiar figure walking away on the lower deck. The moon illuminated the silver flattop of the man from the airport. 

He was carrying a briefcase. There was something strange about a man wearing an Aloha shirt on a cruise carrying a briefcase at midnight. Instead of going down the stairs, I decided to skirt around so that I could look over the railing and see him, but he would be unlikely to see me unless he looked straight up. I took off my shoes and carried them in my hand so he wouldn’t hear my heels clicking.