Santa Cruise (19 page)

“I didn't want to say anything in front of the others,” he told them, “but something occurred that I thought you might want to know. It might be nothing . . .”

“What is it?” Regan asked.

“That fellow Harry Crater, who's in the infirmary. I know he's traveling alone. When I went to bed last night, I heard noise coming from his room. The television was on, and I heard people talking and drawers opening and closing. I had seen him being carried off, after he fell at dinner, and I thought he must have been brought back to his room. Apparently not. It just seemed odd, and I thought you might want to know.”

“These things are always good to know,” Jack said.

“Have they found out who it was Maggie saw in the waiting room?” Ted asked.

“Not that we know of,” Regan told him.

“I have to admit it bothers me to think that Maggie was alone in that waiting room in the middle of the night when some unknown character came wandering through.”

He's right, Regan thought. And he doesn't even know that the man might have tried to suffocate
Crater. Maggie could have been in big trouble, especially if there wasn't any motive for the attempted murder and the intruder was simply deranged. “It is scary to think that she was alone with that guy,” she agreed.

“I told Maggie that if Ivy starts to feel sick in the middle of the night again, she's to call me and not go anywhere alone,” he said firmly. “I know you're reviewing the passenger and crew list. If I can help you in any way, give me a call. Otherwise I'll see you later.” With a wave of his hand, he turned and headed down the corridor.

“I think he's got a crush on Maggie,” Regan observed.

“He does. I feel dishonest not telling him Maggie might have been face-to-face with a would-be killer.”

“Me too,” Regan said.

They were walking past a poster of Left Hook Louie that had been taped to the wall of the corridor. They stopped to examine it, both thinking of the photograph of the missing Tony Pinto they'd seen on television.

“It's certainly possible,” Jack said quietly, after a pause.

Regan knew exactly what he meant.

When they reached their cabin, the phone was ringing. Regan ran to pick it up. It was Alvirah.

“Regan, it's a good thing I stayed here. I have two things to report. I was watching the news, and there's a mobster who's missing who—”

“Bull's-Eye Tony Pinto,” Regan interrupted. “I know what you're going to say, and Jack and I have been thinking along the same lines. We joked about it last night, but it's not a joke anymore.”

“Two and two makes four,” Alvirah said. “He was trying to get out of the country. He lives in Miami. He has been missing since the day our ship sailed, and two people on this cruise claim to have seen someone who looks just like him. And they didn't see him out on deck sunning himself. The other thing I want to tell you,” she went on without waiting for a comment from Regan, “is that Eric, the nephew, just called with a phony-baloney story about that deck of cards belonging to one of the officers on the ship, and how he wanted to come by and pick them up. I told him Willy would be happy to deliver the cards to the officer, but of course that nonexistent officer was off duty.”

“Hold on, Alvirah.” Regan told Jack Eric's tall story about the cards. Jack took the phone from her.

“Alvirah, I'll get pictures of the cards sent to the office right away, then I'll get them back to you. If Eric is involved in
any way
with the problems on this ship, we don't want to tip our hand to
him. I'll tell my office to look at his background carefully.”

As soon as they had hung up, Jack photographed the backs of the royal cards with his digital camera, e-mailed them to his office, and called Keith. While he was on the phone, Regan took the cards, went into the bathroom, held them up to the magnifying mirror, and jotted down the numbers. If we're going to give these cards back to Eric, she thought, I want to be sure we have a copy of the information on them.

She went back into the bedroom. Jack had just hung up the phone. “Keith promised to get back to me as quickly as possible.”

“I have an idea,” Regan said. “Let's walk around this ship for a while. If Ivy, Maggie, and Alvirah all managed to run into strange characters without trying, maybe we'll get lucky when we
are
trying. Anyhow, I'd like to get some fresh air.”

“Fine with me. Let's get cleaned up and see what's out there. This isn't
that
big a ship. If Tony Pinto is on board, he's not far away.”

Jack's cell phone rang. He raised his eyebrows questioningly as he answered it. The caller was Regan's best friend Kit. “Hey, Kit,” he said. “How's it going?”

“Still looking for a date for New Year's Eve. I went to a party in Greenwich last night hoping I
might find someone who doesn't have plans, either. Needless to say, it didn't happen. But I did get some scoop I thought you guys might enjoy.”

“Hold on, Kit. I'll put your buddy on.”

Regan took the phone. “I could hear what you were saying to Jack. Don't worry about New Year's Eve. It's always a terrible night anyway.”

“I know. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to worry about it all week. But get
this!
I went to my friend Donna's annual post-Christmas party last night in Greenwich. All anyone was talking about was this guy Highbridge, who cheated so many investors, including a lot of people at the party. As you may have heard, he's now on the run. Everyone assumes he headed to the Caribbean. So I thought of you. And there's more! One of the women at the party said Highbridge's ex-girlfriend Lindsay, who'd tried to get friendly with a lot of the people Highbridge knew in Greenwich, claimed that he phoned her yesterday. The number was blocked, but a radio was blasting in the background. She was sure she heard someone announce the local temperature in Miami.”

“You're kidding!” Regan said. “They must have had a bad breakup if she's telling people about his call.”

“She's out in Aspen with her new beau and told people about the phone call late last night when
she was out clubbing. I guess she'd had a few drinks by then. The sister of one of the girls at the party is out in Aspen. She and her husband were within earshot when Lindsay was blabbering on about Highbridge.”

“Was there any talk of Lindsay going to the police with that story?”

“No. Now she's denying she ever said anything about Highbridge. Anyway, I thought you'd be interested since you're in the Caribbean and sailed from Miami.”

“I am interested,” Regan said. “You never met Highbridge at any of Donna's parties, did you?”

“I met him once, about five or six years ago.”

“What was your impression of him?”

“Tall, boring, and full of himself.”

“I guess he didn't ask for your number,” Regan chuckled.

“How did you know?” Kit laughed. “I think when he realized I didn't have any money he could steal, he moved on.”

After Regan hung up, they decided Jack should call his office one more time.

“Keith,” Jack said to his assistant, “this is probably a long shot, but see if you can find any connection at all between Bull's-Eye Pinto and Barron Highbridge.” He paused. “Besides the fact that they're both on the run.”

A
t the insistence of their mother, Fredericka and Gwendolyn had gone for a swim in the pool. “A sound mind in a sound body,” Eldona trilled as she sat at the water's edge, her feet dangling in the pool, two pages of next year's Christmas newsletter already written. “Here we are on the maiden voyage of the
Royal Mermaid,
and the kindliness of my girls is already the talk of the ship. . . .”

When the girls had finished their required laps, they had a water fight, which succeeded in splashing people sunning in deck chairs around the pool. “The energy of the young gladdens the heart,” Eldona continued as she wiped her glasses.

Word of the Commodore's mother's service was being spread by the stewards who were already serving Bloody Marys and Margaritas. Needless to say, Fredericka and Gwendolyn got wind of the
impending ceremony. They climbed out of the pool.

“Mommy,” Fredericka said breathlessly. “Did you hear about the sunset service?”

“Yes, dear. And you may attend. It will be very beautiful.”

“Maybe we can sing at it, like we do in church.”

Eldona's eyes glistened with tenderness. “What a lovely idea. I think the Commodore would appreciate that. But you should make sure. Why don't you run and put on a play outfit and ask him yourselves?”

“Yeaaaahhhhhhhhh.” The two girls clapped hands and jumped up and down. “Where did Daddy go? Let's tell Daddy!”

“Over there in the corner,” Eldona pointed to her husband, who was sprawled on a lounge chair, a magazine covering his face. “He moved to the shade. You know how careful he is of his health. He'll be so happy to hear about your thoughtfulness.”

“I've got a better idea, Mommy. Let's make it a surprise for him when we sing tonight.”

“Whatever you want, darlings. Run along now.”

*   *   *

The Commodore and Ivy were on their third cup of English Breakfast tea. He had tenderly placed
the silver chest with his mother's ashes on the coffee table. When Winston brought in the tray with the teapot, strainer, cups, and saucers, he had set it on the table, then started to pick up the box. The Commodore had sternly reprimanded him. “That is only for my hands, Winston. Leave it there. Mother always enjoyed a cup of tea.”

“My mother loves tea, too,” Ivy said. It was a thrill to be in the Commodore's suite. When she first met him, she had been intimidated. He was such an imposing, rugged
manly
man. The kind of man her mother would call “a fine, big fellow.” But sitting talking to Commodore Weed made her realize that he was a real softie inside, that like so many people, he was someone who wanted to be loved.

Now, as the Commodore refilled her cup, he said, “Ivy, as I told you in the chapel, you make me feel so good about this cruise.” He laughed. “I had three ex-wives who married me for what they perceived I could give them. My last wife, Reeney, and I are actually still quite friendly—”

Ivy felt a pang of jealousy.

“—but we just couldn't agree on so many things. She wanted to go antiquing all the time. She fancied she had an eye for value, which I can
assure you she did not. But the worst thing was she hated boating—”

“I
love
boating,” Ivy cried.

“Me, too. But Reeney helped with a lot of things, I must admit. She's a great organizer. She helped me decorate the house in Miami that I bought after our divorce. She even helped me find Winston. She told me I didn't need another wife, I needed a butler. Someone who wanted to take care of me.”

Ivy had to clamp her lips together to keep from blurting out, “I'd
love
to take care of you!”

“You say you've never been married, Ivy?” the Commodore asked her, a tone of wonder in his voice, unconsciously calling her by her first name. “An attractive lady like you?”

Ivy felt a warm glow. She was having such a wonderful time! She didn't want it to end. She started to murmur, “Ohhhhh, thank you,” when a loud banging at the door startled them both.

“What now?” the Commodore asked, as he got up and impatiently crossed the room and opened the door.

Fredericka and Gwendolyn curtseyed to him. “Good morning, Commodore Weed.” Without being invited, they dashed past him into the
room. “Good morning, Ma'am,” they said to Ivy, curtseying again.

“Hello, girls,” Ivy said, thinking the curtsey was the ultimate irony since the two of them had forced their way in.

“Ohhh, how pretty,” Fredericka said as she reached to pick up the silver chest.

Ivy was too quick for her. Her hand clamped over it. “That's the Commodore's,” she said firmly.

The Commodore had almost passed out at the sight of his mother's ashes being jostled by this pushy child. “What can I do for you girls?” he asked, trying to conceal his feelings.

“We heard about the special service for your Mommy tonight. We'd love to sing a special song,” Fredericka explained.

“We're in the children's choir at home,” Gwendolyn chimed in.

God help me, the Commodore thought.

“There's a song that we learned in school that we thought would be perfect. We just changed one word. ‘My
Mommy
lies over the ocean! My
Mommy
lies over the sea . . .”

Ivy watched them in disbelief.

“Thank you,” the Commodore said. “That would be very nice. Perhaps at the end of the service. Now go practice,” he said, his voice husky.

“Goody!” they cried. “We'll tell everyone on the
ship they have to come!” They ran out the door.

Gwendolyn turned to Fredericka. “Now let's go see how Uncle Harry is. We'll tell him about the service. We can reserve a seat for him and help him get to the deck. I'm sure he won't want to miss it.”

T
he only time Eric had left the chapel all morning was to run outside and use the house phone to call Alvirah Meehan to ask if he could pick up the cards. Eric knew that he could not leave the chapel unguarded until lunchtime, when he could sneak Bull's-Eye and Highbridge into his room in his uncle's suite. Once he got them there, they could hide safely in the closet until four
A.M.
tomorrow morning.

At that point, the plan was that Eric would lead the two men to the lowest outside deck where they'd blow up the inflatable dinghy Eric had hidden on board, toss it over, and wearing life jackets, they'd jump in after it. Their people would be hovering nearby, ready to rescue the men when the
Royal Mermaid
was a safe distance away. I wouldn't want to be in their shoes—their
wet
shoes—Eric thought, but it's better than spending a good part of your life in prison.