Cherry Ames 09 Cruise Nurse (16 page)

He thinks I lied to protect myself. I could never convince him that I lied to Timmy for his mother’s sake.” Cherry had not yet had breakfast, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to the point of going out into the rest of the ship and meeting her fate. But a cup of hot coffee might help to bring back her courage, and if she didn’t go to the grill soon it would be too late.

She set her shoulders. Might as well go now and get it over with. Mrs. Crane had already started on the tea and toast Waidler had brought with Timmy’s oatmeal and cocoa. She said:

“Run along, Cherry dear. And you don’t need to come back till noon. Even then all you’ll have to do is super-vise. Without you watching me, I’d be sure to give him benzoin instead of sulfa.”

Cherry got out a weak laugh, but she said encouragingly, “No, you wouldn’t. You could really take over from now on, but I want an excuse to keep on seeing my favorite patient.”

“Mummy and I are going to make a pirate ship,” Timmy said, his mouth full. “The sheets are going to be sails and the ‘brella is going to be the mast.” 148
CHERRY

AMES,

CRUISE

NURSE

Out in the corridor Cherry sighed. “You’ve made a pretty mess of everything, Ames,” she told herself grimly. But, somehow, she didn’t regret any of it. Sometimes two wrongs did make a right. Timmy and his mother were very close to each other now; so close that Nanny didn’t have a chance. And as for “Granny”—she had better abdicate in favor of young Mrs. Crane if she knew what was good for her.

Brownie, who was just fi nishing breakfast in the grill, beckoned to Cherry excitedly. “So scuttlebutt already has my own private scandal,” Cherry thought. “And what a juicy tidbit it’s going to be.”

But Brownie had other gossip to impart. She seemed to have no idea that Cherry was in disgrace, on the verge of dismissal. She whispered:

“Have you heard the latest? The purser’s offi ce was broken into again last night! Miranda was just telling me that she heard nothing had been taken from the safe the fi rst time, and this morning the only thing Ziggy could fi nd missing in his offi ce was the carbon copy of a completely unimportant letter. Somebody who knows something about safe combinations and locks is having himself a time, huh?”

Cherry managed to hide her surprise. “Probably a passenger with a warped sense of humor,” she said easily.

“Probably,” Brownie agreed. “By the way,” she said suddenly, “where were you last night? I tapped on your door at nine and again at ten, but there was no answer.

Miranda has a swell little portable victrola. We thought

A STOLEN LETTER

149

you might like to listen to some of the new records she got for Christmas presents.”

Christmas! Why, today was Cherry’s birthday. A fi ne Christmas Eve she was going to have! She took such a long time answering Brownie’s question that the plump little stewardess said again, this time suspiciously:

“Well, where
were
you last night?” Cherry came out of her mournful reverie. “With a patient,” she said. “Little Timmy Crane. He’s on sulfa, every four hours, day and night, you see.”

“But that’s not answering my question,” Brownie went on, more suspicious than ever. “That’s explaining where you were at eight, midnight and four this morning. But it isn’t saying where you were at nine and ten last night.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Cherry thought, almost amused.

“She thinks I’m the one who broke into Ziggy’s offi ce!” She said, smiling: “I spent the night in the Crane suite.”

“Why, I never heard of such a thing,” Brownie exploded. “It says right in the rules and regulations that except when her help is needed in the care of women passengers or women members of the crew, the nurse is not to have night duty.”

“I know,” Cherry said, suddenly weary of the whole talk. “Dr. Monroe did not order me to spend the night in Timmy’s room. He requested it, and in the end it was easier for me to be right there. Don’t you see?” Brownie looked doubtful. She waited until Cherry had fi nished breakfast, then followed her down to her 150
CHERRY

AMES,

CRUISE

NURSE

cabin. And there, damply hanging from a hook on the inside of her open closet door, was the rose taffeta bathing suit Brownie had admired on Friday. All too obviously, it had been christened recently.

Brownie stared at it and let out a long whistle. “So that’s where you were last night, Cherry Ames. In the swimming pool!”

“That’s right,” Cherry said, not really caring much what Brownie thought any more. “I went in to get Timmy’s panda which he’d dropped into the pool.

Now, go and report me to the Old Man. Waidler knows I broke Rule Eleven, too. I guess everybody on the ship knows by now.”

Brownie’s mouth fell open.
“Me
report you? Are you crazy? I think it’s wonderful you had the nerve to break that silly old rule. I guess you’re not as stiff and starched as I thought you were.” She grinned shamefacedly. “Just for a little while, though, I did kind of think you might have taken that letter from the purser’s fi les. After all, you do have a key, you know.”

“So I do,” Cherry remembered, immediately forgiving Brownie for suspecting her. “But I’m not concerned with anything but the contents of the medical refrigerator.” To herself she added: “Or am I? I surely would like to have a look at the carbon copy of that ‘completely unimportant’ letter.”

Brownie yawned. “Well, I’m off to my chores. But you’d better hide that damp little garment before one of the maids sees it.”

A STOLEN LETTER

151

She left before Cherry could remind her that Waidler already knew.

Cherry, feeling like a prisoner in the dock, waiting to be sentenced, sat on the edge of her bed. In spite of her own worries, her thoughts kept coming back to Jan and her problems.

The ambergris must be on board the
Julita.
But, Cherry felt sure, it was not in Timmy’s cabin. She and Jan and Henry Landgraf had all searched Stateroom 141 thoroughly.

Apparently the fabulously valuable powder was not at the home offi ce in New York. Neither was it in the purser’s safe for, according to Jan, her uncle would never have put it in the safe. He would have kept it close beside him in his cabin, just as he wore his money belt day and night. But it was not in the money belt or the lawyer, Camelot, would have listed it in his cable to Jan.

Therefore, Cherry reasoned, it must have been accidentally left behind when the dying man was taken ashore. And then she remembered something Ziggy had
almost
said about Waidler that fi rst day in sick bay.

“Effi cient as all get out,” Ziggy had said. “But even
he
slips up every now and then. Like at Willemstad last trip—.”

Ziggy had clamped his mouth shut after that. So now Cherry was almost certain of what had happened. An elderly, blustering, salty old passenger whom Waidler couldn’t get on with, stricken with pulmonary thrombosis just as the ship entered the port of Willemstad.

152
CHERRY

AMES,

CRUISE

NURSE

A dying passenger met at the dock by his lawyer and rushed ashore.

Waidler, cranky and upset by this unusual occurrence, fl inging Uncle Ben’s clothes into his suitcase. A hasty inventory of the shelves and drawers as the dying man was wheeled down the gangplank.

Then, later that Tuesday,
after
the ship had left Curaçao, Waidler, not so hurried now, would give the cabin one last inspection before the maids tore it apart for a thorough cleaning. Then, and not until then, would he discover that he had neglected to pack all of the eccentric old gentleman’s effects.

What would he do with these items? Turn them over to the purser, of course. But then the purser would have placed them in a sealed container of some sort, listing the contents, and deposited these overlooked effects with the home offi ce. He certainly would have done that sometime between Wednesday and Friday while the
Julita
was in the port of New York.

Unless—unless, Ziggy, too, had slipped up. Was that why he had suddenly clamped his mouth shut when he was discussing Waidler’s effi ciency?

Cherry felt sure that she was unraveling the mystery correctly. If so, the ambergris was somewhere in the purser’s offi ce right now.

But why hadn’t Ziggy put such a valuable substance in the safe? Cherry could guess the answer to that one too. Because he hadn’t known that several thousand dollars’ worth of ambergris was among the old gentleman’s effects.

A STOLEN LETTER

153

Uncle Ben didn’t believe in banks. But he was shrewd. He wouldn’t label his share of the fi ne powder

“ambergris” for the temptation of maids and stewards.

How would he disguise his treasure when it wasn’t on his person?

Cherry shook her head. That she couldn’t know.

“Oh, dear,” she moaned. “If only I could question Waidler; make him confess he didn’t send all of old Mr. Paulding’s possessions ashore with him last trip.

Get him to tell me exactly what was overlooked in the last-minute rush.”

Her hands were tied. Who was she to accuse Waidler of a minor transgression? Any minute now
he
was going to confront
her
with proof that she had violated two of the ship’s regulations.

Someone tapped on her door. Cherry jumped up, bracing herself. “Here it comes!”

Then she marched stiff-shouldered to face her punishment.

c h a p t e r x i v

Waidler and Ziggy Are Evasive

when cherry flung open the door of her cabin she was not at all surprised to see Waidler standing there.

But she
was
surprised when he simply handed her a cable and started off again back to the main corridor.

Cherry could not stand the suspense another second.

She called out, “Please, Waidler. I’d like to talk to you.

Have you a minute?”

“No, I haven’t,” he fl ung back over one stooped shoulder, but he stopped in the narrow passageway.

Cherry hurried after him.

“Waidler,” she sputtered. “I just want to say . . . I just want to know . . . well, I mean, you did see me last night, didn’t you?”

His eyes were blank under the heavy, beetling brows.

“Last night? I guess I did if you were around. I don’t 154

WAIDLER AND ZIGGY ARE EVASIVE

155

remember. Haven’t time to notice what the ship’s nurse does or doesn’t do.”

Cherry’s knees went wobbly with relief. Then he wasn’t going to report her after all! “W-Waidler,” she stammered, “I-I only did it for Timmy. He cried and cried for his panda. Then when I brought it back I felt it would be nicer if he thought his mother had gotten it for him.” She went on in a rush of words as he listened stolidly:

“Timmy has a nurse, you see. His mother has never had the fun of taking care of him. He hadn’t any confi dence in her. But he has now that he thinks she dove into the deep part of the pool for his Fuzzy-Wuzzy.”

“I don’t know what
you’
re talking about,” Waidler interrupted brusquely.
“Tim
told me his mother rescued his panda from the pool. As far as I’m concerned the passenger is always right.”

Cherry impulsively grabbed his hand and shook it hard. “You’re just about the nicest man I ever knew.

And to think when I fi rst came on board I thought you were horrid. Why were you so mean to me, Waidler?” Waidler’s dark brows were inverted V’s of surprise.

“Me mean? I’ve never said a cross word to anybody in my whole life. You must be crazy!”

Cherry laughed, almost hysterically. “I guess you didn’t realize it then. But I was on the verge of tears that fi rst day when you were so—well, abrupt with me.” Waidler thoughtfully stroked his chin with a stubby thumb. “Well, now, that’s what the other nurse said to me. Said I hurt her feelings. Guess you nurses are 156
CHERRY

AMES,

CRUISE

NURSE

awful sensitive. I’ve got two daughters just about your age. Why would I want to hurt a nice young lady’s feelings?”

The steward shuffl ed his feet, embarrassed. “Guess I’ll have to mind my manners after this. I’m always in such a hurry I don’t know what I’m doing or saying half the time. Like at Willemstad last trip—” He stopped, and like Ziggy, clamped his mouth shut.

“I can imagine things were pretty hectic for you,” Cherry put in quickly. “Getting a dying passenger ashore amid all the confusion of docking. I should think you might easily have overlooked something when you were packing Mr. Paulding’s effects. A small package, for instance, away back in one of his drawers?” Two red spots appeared on Waidler’s prominent cheekbones. He scowled darkly, muttering, “Nothing of the kind. Emptied his drawers myself. And it seems to me if I can mind my own business, you can mind yours.” He darted away and Cherry thought: “Well, that’s that. I’ve only succeeded in making him mad at me again. And I can’t say I blame him. One good turn deserves another, but, instead, I insulted the nice old sea dog.”

Sea dog! That started another train of thought. A seasoned sailor would know ambergris when he saw it—or smelled it. Had the temptation been too much for Waidler? Had he fi gured that fi nders were keepers, especially in the case of a dying man?

Jan’s uncle, an old sea dog himself, might not have tipped the steward lavishly, and with good reason, too.

WAIDLER AND ZIGGY ARE EVASIVE

157

Until he sold his share of the ambergris he would have had to live on the few hundred dollars in his money belt.

Kirk Monroe had told Cherry the evening before that passengers’ tips averaged about ten dollars a day.

That was a lot of money unless you had a lot to throw around.

Cherry, remembering her embarrassed offering of a quarter that fi rst day, felt sure that undertipping was the reason Waidler hadn’t gotten on with old Mr.

Paulding. Perhaps that had served as a sop to his conscience if he
had
pocketed the ambergris. To Waidler, not knowing that it was priceless
ambre blanc,
it might have represented only his just due. A less perfect type of ambergris, Jan had said, sold for only a few dollars an ounce.