The Caribbean Cruise Caper (3 page)

• • •

The guest cabins were one level down from the main deck, along either side of a central corridor. Frank and Joe carried their packs down and studied the name tags on the doors.

Their cabin was partway along the corridor on the port side. David and Evan were on one side of them, and Elizabeth and Sylvie on the other. The cabins on the starboard side were assigned to Cesar and Jason, Boris and Kenneth, and Lisa, who somehow rated a single. Apparently Bettina was elsewhere on the boat, probably in the owner's cabin.

Once inside, Frank pushed the polished wooden door closed and dropped his bag on one of the two bunk beds. Joe wandered over to gaze out one of the two round portholes.

Frank examined the room. In one corner was a closet—in the other a bathroom, complete with a shower that was not much larger than the closet. Instead of dressers, there were latched drawers fitted under each of the beds. A table and two chairs completed the furnishings. Everything was solid and
comfortable, but the decor didn't have the showiness he would have expected on a fancy yacht.

As they unpacked and stowed their clothes in the drawers, Frank and Joe talked over the day so far. Frank was curious about the encounter between Bettina and her old boss. Joe was more interested in the article about the curse on the boat. Who had sent it to Sylvie, and why?
If
someone had sent it. She could have invented that part of her story. Maybe she had found the article herself by searching a database. But if so, why would she want to hide it from the others?

Frank glanced at his watch. “We're due upstairs. Oops—I mean, on deck.”

Bettina was already on the aft deck chatting with Elizabeth and Lisa. The
Teenway
editor had changed into bell-bottom jeans washed almost white, a striped fisherman's jersey, and boating shoes. Near her was a table loaded with platters of snacks and ice buckets of soft drinks. A big chocolate cake formed the centerpiece.

As the others arrived, they hovered awkwardly around the refreshment table. Frank grinned to see Evan sneak a cookie. No one else had the nerve to take something first.

Finally Bettina said, “Are we all here? Wonderful! You are a very special group, you know. You have been selected as the finest, most talented teen detectives in the country. Sherlock Holmes and Sam Spade should be happy they don't have to compete with you!”

Frank found it hard to keep a straight face. From the expressions of the listeners, most of them had no idea who the fictional detective Sam Spade was.

“Over the next few days,” Bettina continued, “as we get to know these beautiful islands and one another, you'll have a chance to use your talents. I know you will find it a challenge, and I hope you will find it fun as well. So, on behalf of
Teenway
magazine, I should like to welcome all of you and wish you bon voyage and the best of luck in the contest.”

As the group clapped, Bettina moved over to the table and picked up a cake knife. “Now,” she said. “Who would like to be the first—”

She let out a scream and jumped back. The cake knife clattered to the deck.

Frank was the first to reach her side. “What is it?” he demanded. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Bettina pointed at the cake. Frowning, Frank moved closer.

Trapped in the chocolate frosting were four black spiders.

Gingerly, Frank picked one out. It was plastic.

“May I see that?” David asked. Frank handed it to him. David took one look and growled,
“Evan!
Front and center, on the double!”

“I didn't do anything!” Evan wailed.

“Is this yours?” his father asked.

“Maybe. It looks like one of mine,” the boy admitted. “But I didn't put it on the cake. Honest.”

“Did you touch the cake?” David asked.

“Well . . .” Evan licked a corner of his mouth. Frank grinned to himself. A small smudge of chocolate still showed on the boy's cheek. “I tried a little of the frosting. Just to make sure it was okay. But I did it where it wouldn't show. And I
never
put spiders on the cake. That's not funny.”

“I agree,” Bettina said. “It's not funny at all. Who played this unfunny joke?”

In the silence that followed, Frank heard seabirds calling and feet shuffling uneasily on the deck. Somewhere on the island, a car horn tooted.

After a long moment David said, “I believe Evan. And I want to say that to pull a stunt like this is pretty childish. But to let it be pinned on a kid—that's really low.”

Bettina took a deep breath. She said, “Well—we shouldn't let some twisted soul with bad taste in jokes spoil our welcoming celebration. Who would like a piece of cake . . . with or without spiders?”

Everybody laughed, more from relief than because it was funny. David picked up the cake knife, carefully wiped it, and handed it to Bettina. She began passing out slices.

Frank didn't feel like cake. He took a plate and piled on some veggies and dip, two bite-size sandwiches, and a few cold shrimp. He paused, then added a small wedge of creamy cheese.

He was pouring a cup of soda when he noticed a man with bushy sideburns and a deep tan move down from the upper deck. The newcomer was wearing white shorts, a white short-sleeved shirt
with epaulets, and a blue baseball cap. He approached Bettina and murmured a few words to her.

She nodded. Then she took his arm and said, “Everyone—this is our captain, Bruce Mathieson. He tells me we'll be sailing in a few minutes. That won't break up the party, though. In fact, it gives us an additional reason to celebrate.”

Mathieson returned to the upper deck. A young crew member in cutoff jeans and a Key West T-shirt came aft and took up a position near the stern mooring line. While waiting for the signal to cast off, he gazed around at the little gathering. His eyes met Frank's. Frank nodded and smiled. The crew member did not smile back or even seem to notice.

Frank had the odd impression that the guy lived in another world that just happened to run side by side with the one the
Teenway
contestants inhabited. An invisible barrier separated the two worlds. Or maybe it was just that the crew had orders not to fraternize with the passengers.

The ship's horn let out a mournful bellow. The deck began to vibrate as the huge diesel engines came to life. The crewman untied the mooring line, then looped it twice around the bollard and gripped the loose end.

The note of the engines mounted the scale. As the vibration spread and intensified, the crewman nodded to someone on the pier below. A moment later he reeled in the looped end of the mooring line. It left a sparkle of water drops on the deck.

Bettina and David left to join the captain on the bridge. David took Evan with him. Everyone else gathered by the stern rail to watch the pier and the island recede. The
Colombe d'Or
was under way.

As the boat left the sheltering arms of the bay and met the waves of the open sea, the deck began to move gently up and down and side to side. Sylvie clutched the rail and gave a small, uncomfortable laugh. “Ooo, this is fun . . . I think. Does the floor move like this always?”

“Oh, sure, always,” Lisa said, giving Frank a wink. “Usually it's a lot worse than this. Don't worry, though. You'll get used to it after a few days.”

“We're going to be on the boat for only a few days,” Kenneth pointed out.

Lisa shrugged. “After that we can get used to being on land again.”

As the laughter died down, Frank heard Elizabeth say, “I saw you hanging around the cake.” He glanced over quickly. She was speaking to Cesar.

Joe had also overheard. “Is that right, Cesar?” he asked.

Cesar glared at Joe, then at Elizabeth. “None of your business,” he said.

“That's
original,” Elizabeth said. “And it is our business. Stupid stunts like those spiders could ruin the trip for everybody.”

“Okay, okay,” Cesar said loudly. “Yeah, I was hanging out near the cake. I've got a thing for chocolate, all right? I was tempted to try the
frosting. But I didn't do it.
And
I didn't put those dopy spiders on the cake.”

“Did you notice the spiders?” Frank asked.

Cesar shook his head. “Nope. But maybe I wouldn't have. I'm a little farsighted.”

“You would have noticed somebody leaning over the cake and pressing the spiders into it, wouldn't you?” Jason asked. “And you didn't, did you?”

“What's your point?” Cesar demanded.

“My point is, none of us could have put the spiders on the cake,” Jason said. “The only time any of us was close enough to do it, we were all standing around looking at the refreshment table. Even a magician couldn't have sneaked those spiders past us and onto the cake.”

Boris shouldered his way into the little circle and said, “They got there, though.”

“Exactly,” Jason said triumphantly. “Which means the solution is obvious. One of the crew put them there.”

“Oh, brilliant,” Boris said sarcastically. “You mean, ‘The butler did it.' You've been watching too many old movies—
bad
old movies.”

Jason reddened. “I suppose you've got a better solution, wise guy?”

Boris snorted loudly. “You don't have to be a cow to know when the milk tastes sour,” he replied.

“Funny you should mention cows,” Jason said. “After the way you horned in on this conversation.”

Boris gave him a mocking smile. “At least I'm not
trying to give everyone a bum steer,” he said. “I guess that's because I don't come from Cowtown.”

Frank admired Boris's ready wit. How had he managed to recollect that Jason's home was Fort Worth, Texas, popularly known as Cowtown?

Jason was obviously infuriated by being topped this way. He let out a growl, lowered his head, and charged at Boris. Boris sidestepped out of his path and shouted, “Olé!”

Maddened by this additional barb, Jason swerved after Boris, but his foot slipped and he crashed into Lisa.

Lisa stumbled backward and started to topple over the rail. She let out a shriek of terror. More than a dozen feet below her was the water, churned into white foam by the powerful twin propellers.

Joe saw Lisa stumble against the rail, and he sprang into motion. Even before she began to topple over, he had narrowed the distance that separated them. With all the strength and grace he would have put into reaching out for a long pass, he grabbed her arm just above the elbow and tugged her to safety.

“You're okay,” he assured her as she began to sob with mixed fright and relief. “Relax, you're fine.”

Meanwhile, Frank moved quickly to Jason's side and put a friendly but warning arm around his shoulders. At first Jason seemed too shocked to react to Lisa's near fall, which he had caused. At Frank's touch, he snapped to attention. He shrugged off the arm and took a step away.

“Leave me alone,” he barked.

“Hey, take it easy, fella,” Frank said, moving between Jason and Boris. “We're all friends here.”

“Think so?” Jason demanded. He took a couple of deep breaths and straightened his shoulders. “We'll see about that.”

Not meeting anyone's eyes, he spun on one heel and stalked inside.

Lisa threw her arms around Joe's neck. “Joe Hardy, you saved my life!” she exclaimed.

Joe felt his cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. “Hey, that's okay,” he muttered. He disentangled himself from her grasp. “No big deal.”

“No big deal?” Lisa said. “I could have drowned or been eaten by sharks. You're a hero . . . and I'm going to make sure that every kid who reads
Teenway
knows it.”

Looking past her, Joe saw that Frank was grinning. Joe's cheeks burned even more. He made a private vow. If Frank teased him about this, he was going to short-sheet Frank's bunk.

Sylvie seemed miffed by all the attention that was going to Lisa. “Are there really sharks here?” she asked with a dainty shiver.

“Sure, lots of them,” Cesar said cheerfully. “But you don't have to worry about sharks as much as the jellyfish and electric eels and giant clams. Just let one of those clams get you inside its shell, and you're history!”

Elizabeth gave him a cold look. “Were you left back in tenth grade?” she asked in a haughty tone. “Or is it just your humor that's sophomoric?”

“Brrr!” Cesar said with a shiver. “I think I just hit an iceberg. Somebody get me a blanket, quick. Or better yet, a lifeboat.”

Everybody laughed—everybody but Elizabeth.

Sylvie stretched and said, “It's been a long day. I think I'll rest before dinner.”

“Good idea,” Lisa said. “Me, too.”

The two girls walked off. Boris asked, “Anybody for a game of chess? There's a board in the salon.”

“Sure,” Kenneth said. “I'll give it a shot.”

Cesar gave Elizabeth a cheeky grin. “How about a hot game of checkers? Or maybe you know how to play fish? That kinda fits with being on a boat.”

“I take back my remark about being sophomoric,” Elizabeth said. “You're obviously stuck in fourth grade. Excuse me. I need to catch up on my reading.”

As the girl from Virginia stalked off, Cesar looked over at Frank and Joe and rolled his eyes. “I hate stuffed shirts,” he said. “Don't you?”

He didn't wait for an answer. He, too, went inside. The Hardys were left alone on deck.

“We should go have a talk with David,” Joe suggested. “I'd like to make sure everything is set for tonight's crime.”

“I hope there's only one,” Frank replied. “The way some of these guys are getting along, we may have a murder to deal with.”

• • •

Half an hour later Frank and Joe were on the sundeck near the bow with David, going over the
details of that evening's puzzle. The notes of a triple chime resounded through the boat.