Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 01 - Wendy and the Lost Boys (8 page)

I tried not to look at the smear of blood where the captain had fallen. My stomach did flip-flops as one of the crewmen took a bucket of water and some evergreen-smelling cleaner to it, making it smell like Henry had been shot with a pine cone. I shuddered. “Let’s disappear.”

Roger and Kit followed me from the bridge through the ship.

The damage appeared to be mainly vandalism. Broken glass and slashed upholstery. The balls from the golf driving range floated in the swimming pool. In the salon, the Steinway Baby Grand player piano plinked
Moon River
over and over. Someone had rammed a chunk of broken mirror into its keyboard. The helicopter pad looked as if it had a seizure. The chopper’s tail boom was scratched, the Hook logo peeled off.

It was quieter on the port side of the yacht. I found a cushion, brushed off the grit, propped it, and settled back. Kit and Roger sat on either side of me.

“This has been… different,” Kit said. “We’ve been out to sea for six days and two deaths. How do we get off this battleship? I’ve got a career to get back to.” His bottle-blond hair glinted in the light of the sun.

“He’s not going to let us go. We know where he is and we know about the cloaking device,” Roger said.

“Can we radio the Coast Guard for help?” Kit asked.

I shook my head. “Remember, he’s got the communications jammer. He’s almost as proud of that as his cloaking device.”

Kit gave me a frustrated look. “If he’s got that cloaking thingie, how’d Croc find us?”

“Where money is involved, my ex can smell a penny at the bottom of the ocean. His talent for sniffing it out helped bring down Wall Street. His nostrils are as wide as hamster trails.”

“And he’s still crazy about you,” Roger said. “A real classy fan club, Croc and Hook.”

Ignoring his snide remark, I turned to Kit. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

He hugged me. “I didn’t want you to take this mission-of-mercy on your own, but now I feel like Ginger stranded on Gilligan’s Island. If they replace me at the club it’ll take years to get my following back. By then I’ll be … well… older. Drag Queens have a short shelf-life unless you’re Dame Edna.”

The water surrounding us was vodka clear, reflecting the colorless sky. I felt like I was floating in a dream. A kaleidoscope of jade and sapphire seas appeared in the distance. We were getting into deeper waters. I was feeling trapped. An old expression settled in my mind,
Being in a ship is being in a jail with the chance of being drowned.

Adrenalin kicked in. It was time to act. “Croc said Hook would kill me, but balls to the walls. Come on men. I want to know who killed Marni, and more importantly, I want to get off this damn boat.” I turned to Roger. “You’re an investigator. Investigate!”

When we got to the bridge, Hook shot the three of us a startled look as if he had forgotten we were on the ship. He was gobsmacked and resembled a wanted poster for the rape of Wall Street. Dale was at the helm. Jaxbee was nowhere in sight.

“We demand that you take us into port.”

He laughed. “This is
my
ship. We’re going where
I
want to go. And you’re going with me. Crocowski won’t reveal how to defeat my cloaking device to the feds as long as I have you.”

Treanna popped into my mind. She wouldn’t understand my being gone, and I was the only grownup she trusted. I had to get back. And then there was Kit… Words tumbled from my lips. “People are going to miss me. I have a real estate company to run. This is high season in Miami, and I–”

Hook cut me off. “You two, go below,” he said to Kit and Roger. “I want to have a chat with Wendy.” He pointed to his UpUGo problem. “It’s been over ten hours. It hurts like hell and I’m feeling light-headed. I need your help.”

I shuddered. “You should seek medical attention. This doesn’t fall under Marni’s
Please take care of Hook.”
I suppressed an evil grin. “I’m pretty sure Dr. Jolley can handle this.”

Roger glared at me. “I’ll get you for this,” he whispered in my ear.

Hook grabbed him. “If I hit my penis on one more thing, I’m gonna kill somebody. Practice your medicine, now!”

I moved behind Kit pressing my mouth into his shoulder to muffle my laughs.

“Let’s go below,” Roger said to Hook. They left the bridge via the spiral staircase. Dr. Jolley shot me a dagger-look as his head stair-stepped out of sight.

Kit shook as he struggled to contain his giggles.

Dale gave us the stink-eye as he sat at the wheel with his hand on the butt of his Glock.

Dr. Jolley and his patient were gone for almost an hour. My imagination was all over the map on about what an SEC investigator could do to counteract an UpUGo reaction. Kit and I kept exchanging looks and crumbling into silent laughter.

I swallowed another laugh just as Roger returned to the bridge. Hook was a few steps behind him walking as if he had a wooden leg. He maneuvered himself halfway into the captain’s chair with a loud moan.

“What did you do for him?” I asked in a hushed voice.

Roger’s dark eyes twinkled. “An Ace bandage,” he whispered.

It was clear Kit understood immediately. He walked to the railing, gripping it to steady himself as he went into silent hysterics.

“Those stretchy things you use when you sprain your leg?” I asked.

Dr. Jolley appeared pleased with himself. “I got his UpUGo strapped to his thigh.”

I took one look at Hook as he struggled to seat himself oblivious to the rest of us. I raced to the railing and stood next to Kit. We sounded like two mules as we fought to contain our laughter.

“I still want to talk with Wendy,” Hook said.

Dale pulled his gun and motioned the guys to go below.

Kit leaped down the stairs, and I held my breath waiting for the gun to go off.

“Don’t leave me alone with this letch!”

Hook yanked my arm. I swung at him and missed.

“This isn’t funny,” I yelled at Roger.

He flashed me a dazzling grin and said, “I’m sure you can handle it.” He disappeared down the steps away from Hook, Dale’s Glock, and me.

Hook slid his creepy, crepe-like fingers up my neck, his long pinky nail scratching my left ear lobe. He had eyes that could watch a man being impaled and not blink.

I snarled, “You manipulated and corrupted Marni. You planted that
take care of Hook
idea in her head
.”

“Ah…Wendy. Marni was nice, but shallow. You’re a fighter. You’re just like me. We’re going to have such a good time.”

I struggled as he pulled me close.

“I have something I’ve got to do. Once it’s complete we’ll talk about you and your friends.” His tiny pupils vibrated as his fingers bit into my arm. “You might even grow to like the life of a pirate.”

“Enough!” I said as I elbowed his thigh with a direct hit on his UpUGo.

Hook howled in pain. “You feral bitch!”

Dale swung his gun around and pinged one off the superstructure.

Fleeing from the bridge, I heard Hook snap, “Put that damned thing away before you kill one of us, you idiot.”

I visualized Hook, if he lived through Dale’s gunplay, wearing an orange jumpsuit and slippers somewhere in a federal pen. It couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter Sixteen

That night Kit, Roger, and I slept together in my stateroom. It was icky, but I wasn’t about to sleep alone. Hook had backed down from his artificially induced passion, but he’d come at me again.

Roger lay on the window seat sofa, snoring softly. Kit shared my bed.

Space and darkness, light and time, present and past… I was dreaming. It was the early years when I struggled to build my real estate company. We specialized in luxury homes in and around Miami Beach. In my dream I fought with one of my wealthy clients. I detested most of them. Now I was a prisoner of just such a client.

“You awake?” Kit whispered. He lay next to me still smelling of coconut oil.

“What’s up?”

“How are we going to find out who murdered Marni? And how are we going to get off this boat?”

“Go to sleep. I’ll think of something by morning.”

Kit’s breathing was steady, just short of a snore. My obedient friend fell asleep before I finished speaking. I slipped out of bed.

“What’s going on?” Roger asked.

“Bathroom. Go back to sleep.” I felt like a Cub Scout den mother on a camping trip.

Sometime during the night my curiosity finally won. I got up again and took out the box Croc had thrown at me. I didn’t want anything from that jerk, but I had to know what it was. I shined a small flashlight on it and pried it open. Inside was an old but familiar locket. My first love, Peter Payne had given me the trinket on our last date. I’d worn it until Croc and I were married. And then the locket went missing. He must have had it all along. Why did he give it back to me now? He said it was to show his good intentions. Well, that backfired. All it did was make me more pissed at him, if that was possible. I slipped the thin chain around my neck and fastened the clasp.

Memories of time spent with Peter rushed over me. His kisses were as sweet as whipped cream and twice as tasty. We were sweethearts for one year and then he was gone. “I don’t want to grow up,” he said.

So many years had passed but now he was coming back into my life. Roger told me Peter’s in Nevisland, connected with Hook’s Nevis Island dealings. Croc returned my long-missing locket.

When I finally fell asleep, I dreamt of Marni. She tried to tell me the name of her killer but I couldn’t hear. Every time she spoke, Peter Payne blocked her out and said, “Wendy, come to me in Nevisland.”

Chapter Seventeen

My eyes popped open. No coconut oil scent. No snoring from the window seat. I was alone. Weak morning light grayed the room. By the time I brushed, showered, and pulled on shorts and a tank top, the gray had turned rosy yellow and my need for coffee became homicidal. I dragged my sonic and Marni-mourning hangover to the outdoor dining deck.

Kit and Roger sat across from each other at the far end of the long dining table, laughing about something. What the heck could they possibly find to laugh about? I struggled to the coffee urn, filled a mug to the brim, and scalded my tongue, possibly the only remaining part of my body that wasn’t hurting. I shuffled to the chair at the end of the table between Kit and Roger. I knocked Roger’s feet off it and sat down.

He looked at me and smiled. I knew he was going to say it and he did. “Good morning, sunshine.” The only reason I didn’t dump my hot coffee on him was I needed it too much, but really, could he be any more annoying.

Chef Roscoe served us a breakfast of mangoes and granola. The sea was gentle, as was the breeze. I finally noticed Dale was two seats away, his gun beside his plate. Roger got up and paced between the food-service table and my chair. Tinkerbelle chased a lone seagull. The dog went bonkers barking at anything with a beak and wings.

The
Predator
motored along at a brisk pace with Jaxbee at the helm.

Hook lumbered by the table in his UpUGo-to-thigh gait.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

He glared at me. “You’ll know when we get there, and stay off the bridge.” He grabbed a mug of coffee from the buffet table and made his way to back to the bridge.

My nerves were pretzeled. Jaxbee was first-in-command, but where did that leave me? Besides Kit, and possibly Mr. Annoying, she was the only friendly person on the
Predator.
But like everyone else in this nightmare, she seemed to have hidden motives.

Banned from the bridge. What was Hook afraid I might learn? We were headed north – that much I could tell by the morning sun. But north encompassed a hell of a lot of water. With no landmarks and no shoreline it was hard to judge our speed.

I finished the fruit slices and skipped the granola. The crunch was more than my aching head could bear. Croc’s vibrating cannon still had my ears ringing and my neck aching.

The coffee was dark and rich but had a bitter edge. I laced my cup with heavy cream from the pitcher on the table as I watched Roger. His pacing was making me edgy. I was still angry at him for leaving me alone with Hook. It wasn’t funny.

The chef came back to the table. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ve got a bad headache, Roscoe” I rubbed my neck.

“I have something herbal in the kitchen. Ease the pain.” He picked up my plates. “Island cures sometimes work better than doctor remedies.” He nodded toward Roger. “Especially Doctor Shoes.”

A weak smile was all I could muster. I picked up Tinkerbelle and wandered to the third deck, passing the helicopter pad. The chopper’s boom was fixed and looked good as new. Tink and I sat looking out at two glistening dolphin as they leaped from the water dancing on their tails, celebrating the pure joy of being together. Another old adage popped into my head,
Money doesn’t buy you happiness. But it buys you a big enough yacht to sail right up to it.
I was looking at dolphin happiness but I was in a funk.