Bon Bon Voyage (27 page)

“If the waiters go out, who will serve the avocado soup?” I exclaimed. “Someone has to stop her before she ruins our whole plan.”

Barney laughed heartily. “There's no stopping your mother-in-law. You have to admire her spunk. She has a mind of her own.”

“Don't worry about the waiters. I heard the stewards, drunk in the bar, saying the waiters were too afraid of the chef to walk out,” said Luz as she stared morosely at a hand of cards. “This is a crappy hand. I don't have any diamonds.” She threw down the cards in disgust. “They also said the kitchen workers were even bigger chickens. They'd never walk out.”

“No diamonds is good, Luz,” said Barney. “Let me show you why. Carolyn, you play the opposing hands. We'll say Luz got the bid for four spades.”

While I fumbled around trying to play two hands, I was really paying more attention to the stewards' opinion of the waiters and chefs. My mother-in-law was a powerful arguer, and a bully to boot, but Demetrios was a formidable opponent and the terror of any crewmember that entered his circle of influence. Maybe Vera would fail to cause any more trouble for us. Who cared if the gym attendants went on strike? They were muscular, but they'd be asleep. We just had to get the avocado soup made and served.

Beau knocked at the door and was admitted after inspection through the peephole. “Okay, Barney, the stuff is mixed an' poured into distilled water bottles. Those are in my office on a medical cart covered by some linen towelin', all ready to go. You want me to help?”

“We have to wait for Owen. He and Luz are going to start the diversion in the bar. Why don't you take over teaching Luz how to play bridge? Maybe she'll be more cooperative for you.”

Beau was delighted and sat down, saying. “First, countin' points.”

“I've got that,” Luz snarled. “I'm not stupid.”

“No one ever said you were, my darlin'. So we'll move on to biddin'.”

“Which is a real crock.”

“No question,” Beau replied amiably. “But necessary. Bear with me, my lovely, brown-skinned beauty.”

“Oh, shut up.”

He dropped a kiss on her cheek and sat down beside her with his arm around her waist.

Lucky me,
I thought. I turned over one of the hands to Barney, and I only had to play the other against two lovebirds. And Jason wasn't here to give me support and a kiss for myself. He didn't even know what was happening here, hadn't sent me a Mother's Day telegram, or any more bonbons. Now I was sorry I'd spurned his gift. Luz had eaten the rest of mine.

Owen turned up a half hour later and went off with Luz to initiate the bar fight. Barney left as well to send the bottles of green knockout liquid up to the chef. That left me. All alone with nothing to do. I took a nap.

Both Hartwig and Fredriksen received the page warning of a fight in the bar off the Grand Salon. They responded immediately and had to disable a number of crewmembers and several drunken passengers while working their way toward the center of the disturbance, where they'd seen a woman coldcock a muscular gym trainer.

The trainer, once revived, mumbled, “I didn't pinch her butt, I swear, Mr. Hartwig.”

“Who was she?” Hanna Fredriksen demanded.

“I don't know,” said the man, groaning. “All I saw was the back of her. Then some guy knocked me flat on my back, and I think the woman kicked me in the head.”

“I think she was that dress designer from Madrid,” muttered Hartwig.

“Come on, Bruce,” said Fredriksen, as they hauled dazed men to their feet. “How likely is that?”

41

I got a call late in the afternoon from Captain Wickendon of the USS
Morgan Fallwell.
“Professor, Al Wickendon here. Thought you'd like to know that the satellite center got back to us. They've spotted your wife's ship. Amazing stuff— satellite photography. They could see
Bountiful Feast
written right there on the bow and a few passengers walking on the decks. Didn't seem to be anything wrong with the ship except that they were almost dead in the water and off course if they were coming here.”

“Don't you think that sounds ominous, Captain?” I asked anxiously. “Shouldn't you sail out and see what's happening? They may need assistance.”

“Couldn't if I wanted to, Mr. Blue. First off, the
Morgan Fallwell
, as I said, isn't seaworthy yet. The Canarians pulled all our filters the way you told them to, but now they're standing around scratching their heads. God knows when they'll decide we can put to sea again without fouling their lousy harbor. Can't expel certain things within the twelve-mile limit, and other stuff not at all.”

“Captain, I'm coming down again. Frankly, I'm one of the foremost toxin experts in the country—toxins and how to get rid of them.” I found myself in an unusual position, having to force my expertise, without asking compensation for my time, on people who hadn't asked. However, there was Carolyn to consider. “I'll be right down. I won't charge you anything, if that's what's worrying you. Except that if you sail out to check on the
Bountiful Feast
, I'd appreciate sailing with you.”

“Oh, I don't know about—”

“If you're leaving a toxin trail in the ocean, it would help if I can do an on-site inspection and some testing.”

“Well, I—”

“I'm on my way, Captain.” I planned to recruit the captain and his destroyer to rescue Carolyn, with myself aboard, even if I had to take the whole waste purifying system of the
Morgan Fallwell
apart by myself.

I was amazed. The Grand Salon now held twenty or more tables, presumably suitable for bridge. “Do we have permission to assemble this many people?” I whispered to Owen. I was wearing my wig, war paint, and my red blazer paired with navy slacks and a navy scarf. Very oceanic, I thought, although not an outfit I'd normally put together. I'm as patriotic as the next person, but I'd never consider wearing clothing imprinted with the flag, for instance.

“Sure. I think Hartwig was happy to get so many people in one spot rather than have us all wandering around the ship while the crew ate our food. What'd you think of that dinner?”

“Salmon patties aren't one of my favorites. Certainly not those. They must have come straight from a package of frozen dinners, along with the withered green beans and mushy macaroni and cheese.”

At that moment, a woman rushed up to us and clasped my hand in both of hers. “Here you are! Isn't this exciting? I'm Rebecca.”

I knew I'd never met her, although she looked vaguely familiar. But surely I'd have recognized that magnificent red hair.

“I lent you the wig,” she whispered. “If you need another, I can lend you this one tomorrow.” She patted the red hair. As soon as I get back to California, I'm going to e-mail Rochelle Krich and tell her about our adventure. Maybe she'll want to use it in a book.”

I nodded. “I'm sure she'd appreciate that, and I am very grateful for your offer, but I have to ask: Will my wearing your wig make it, ah, non-kosher? I mean, I'm a non-Jewish person.”

Rebecca laughed merrily and said, “It's not as if I'm going to eat it, dear, after you return it. Anyway, I gave up keeping kosher when I divorced my first husband. So much dishwashing! I even eat lobster now and then these days.” She chuck-led as if lobster were a daring escapade, which I suppose it was for her. “But I did love the wigs, so I kept those, and my second husband—” she waved at a portly man shuffling cards impatiently at a nearby table “—Morty, is what we call an ethnic Jew, as opposed to a religious Jew. A much less trying form of Judaism, as you can imagine. Now, is there anything else I can do for you? I do want to play my part. Commander Levinson told us what happened to you. By the way, you look stunning in my wig. You should consider getting one of your own. I'd offer to give you that one, but it's one of Morty's favorites.”

“Do you have any expertise in guns or hand-to-hand combat, Rebecca?” asked Owen, absolutely straight-faced.

“Well.” She gave it some thought. “I once knocked out a burglar by throwing my jewelry case at his head. I used to play softball as a girl, and my aim is still excellent. And Morty was a boxer in his youth. He still likes to go into the basement and hit that bag that bounces around.”

“Bloody good news, that is,” Owen exclaimed. “Maybe you and Morty would like to join us in taking the ship away from the hijackers.”

“My goodness, let's ask him.” She led us over to Morty and asked if he realized that they were on a hijacked ship, and Morty, who had a distinct New York accent, said he'd figured that out, but hadn't wanted to worry her.

Rebecca cried, “You are so sweet. Isn't he sweet?” she asked us.

I agreed that Morty was really sweet. At least he'd accompanied his wife on the cruise instead of leaving her to her fate.

“This is Morty's Mother's Day present to me, and we don't even have children together. I have three with my first husband, but I obtained a
get
and took them with me. Mordecai is horrified at the way we're raising them. Oh, but I forgot. Morty, we've been invited to help take the ship back from the hijackers. I told them about my triumph over the home-invasion person and your boxing. I think it would be so much fun. What a wonderful story to tell at dinner parties.”

“How do you plan to manage it?” Morty asked Owen. He didn't even look at me, although it had been my idea. Probably he thought dealing with hijackers was man's work. I ought to report him to Vera.

“As we speak, the whole crew is getting groggy. They'll be lucky to make it to the nearest bed before they pass out,” said Owen cheerfully. “We've got the chef and the doctor on our side.”

Morty nodded. “Good plan. You can count on us as soon as the tournament is over.”

“That was fast,” I murmured to Owen as we made our way to our own table. Owen had made up a chart, showing where everyone was to sit and how the winners moved in the second round and so forth. Competitive bridge. He was not going to be happy with me if he thought we'd be winners moving each time to a new table.

42

This is going to be a freaking disaster,
I thought as I sat down across from Beau for my first and, I hoped, last evening of bridge. Owen had picked all the people we were supposed to recruit. Our first couple was the Karstroms, Sven and Frieda, from Minneapolis. Sven was so tall he looked like he was standing up when he was actually sitting down at the table shuffling cards. Couldn't wait to get going and beat our asses. Poor Beau. This was going to be a bad evening for him even if we recruited everyone we came across.

“Well, you folks look like you're in good shape,” said Beau cheerfully. “I'm Beau, and this is Luz. Do you work out?”

“Yup,” said Sven, and pushed the cards across the table for me to cut.

“Aren't you the designer from Madrid?” asked Frieda, studying my clothes.

“No,” I responded. No use playing that game when Vera wasn't here to translate for me. Anyway, I was sick of it, and one way or another all the games would be over after tonight. I picked up my cards and put them into suits the way Barney and Beau had taught me. “One spade,” I said. “I'm a retired cop.”

“Cops are good,” said Sven.

“What do you mean?” Frieda demanded. “You can't bid one spade.”

“We have our own bidding system,” Beau confided. “As a doctor, I always like to see people in such good shape. Able to take care of themselves.”

“I own Fit and Feisty,” said Frieda proudly, “and Sven is the founder of Man's World. It's a gym and self-defense school. And you two may have your own bidding system, but she can't open the bidding. Sven dealt; he opens.”

“One diamond,” said Sven.

“Pass,” Beau said. “Self-defense? Sounds interesting. I like hunting myself.”

“Yup,” said Sven. “Bear is good. In Alaska.”

“Three diamonds,” said Frieda.

“Three spades,” I said. They looked pretty good; I had an ace, a jack, and a bunch of little ones. “You two notice anything strange going on on this boat?” Might as well get to the point. He sounded like a good prospect, and she was one of these skinny women with well-defined muscles in her arms. She certainly had them on display in that sleeveless dress. I'd have been covered with goose bumps wearing that in this air-conditioning.

“The strangest thing I've noticed,” said Frieda, “is your bidding.”

Mean too,
I thought approvingly. These two were probably as good as we'd get on a cruise ship.

“Five diamonds,” said Sven. His wife, if she was his wife, glared at him. “Well, you answered,” he retorted as if she'd actually made a complaint aloud.

“She made that illegal bid. I just wanted to keep it open.” Frieda slapped down her cards. “You didn't have to jump to game.”

Sven led the king of spades from Frieda's hand.
Dumb move,
I thought, and put my ace on it. It had to be lucky that I was going to take the first trick. Sven put a two of diamonds on my ace, and Beau threw in the three of spades. I grinned and put my hand out to take my winnings, but Beau gave me a little kick. Not, thank God, in the knee.
Oh, shit,
I thought.
Trumps. I forgot about them. What a crappy game. I should have taken that trick.
Instead, Sven swept in the cards with that big paw of his.