Final Sail (19 page)

A small rail around the stand’s edge kept the tray from sliding off. Helen poured Pepper a cup of oolong. She was shocked by the woman’s pasty face. As Pepper sipped the sloshing tea, her color returned.

Helen had braced her legs to keep from falling as the yacht was slammed by another wave. She felt like she was riding a surfboard. The sea seemed to be getting wilder.

“Don’t you get seasick?” Pepper asked.

“A little,” Helen said.

“But you still have to work? That’s awful,” Pepper said. “I wouldn’t do it.”

I wouldn’t marry a rich old man like Scotty, Helen thought, but said nothing.

“Sit down,” Pepper said. “Talk to me. Those ladies upstairs are old and Rosette is mean. When I came out of the john I heard her tell Beth that I dressed like a cocktail waitress. Well, what’s wrong with that? That’s how I met Scotty. I always look nice. Rosette doesn’t bother. She’s just jealous. Don’t you think?”

Pepper didn’t want an answer, just a sympathetic ear. She prattled away as she sipped her tea. About ten minutes into the monologue Pepper said, “I guess my husband is still playing poker, huh?”

“He was. I think he fell asleep in the sky lounge,” Helen said.

“Good,” Pepper said. “I can be up and dressed pretty by the time he’s awake. I wanted to fly to Atlantis and meet him at noon tomorrow. That’s what everyone does. But he insisted on going with his buddies on the
Earl
and dragged me along. Well, he’s going to pay. I’m getting emeralds and diamonds both.”

Helen hoped Pepper planned to stash that jewelry. She suspected Scotty would dump her when she was no longer ornamental.

“You look like you’re feeling better,” Helen said.

“I am,” Pepper said. “The tea helped. Do you know how I met Scotty?”

Helen sat in the stateroom, listening to Pepper drone on. Her radio didn’t erupt into more commands. The boat’s rocking gradually grew more gentle.

She sat up suddenly, wondering where she was. Then she heard Pepper snoring softly. Helen was sitting in Pepper’s stateroom. She’d fallen asleep while Pepper had been talking.

The teacup and the saltine dish were both empty. The teapot was cold. So was the untouched egg. What time was it?

She checked her watch: five forty-three. She wished she could call Phil and tell him what she’d learned about Scotty and his hooker
girlfriend. It might be connected to the Zerling case. But she had to report to work at six a.m.

Helen tiptoed out, carefully shutting the door, and opened her cabin. She hoped she could shower without waking Louise.

But Louise’s bunk wasn’t slept in and there was no light on in the bathroom. Poor Louise, Helen thought. She must have had to work all night, too. And she hates this job even more than I do.

Helen showered quickly and changed into her work uniform of shorts and a polo shirt, then climbed the stairs again. In the galley, the lights were blazing. The air was scented with coffee and cinnamon rolls were baking in the oven. Suzanne was slicing a pineapple on a cutting board. The tall woman had her dark hair tied back. This morning, she seemed worried.

“Morning, Helen,” Suzanne said. “Have you seen Louise? She was supposed to help set up and serve breakfast.”

“Not since last night about three o’clock,” Helen said. “She was carrying a tray to Mrs. Randolph and I met her in the passage. Her bunk wasn’t slept in. I thought she was working all night.”

“Odd,” Suzanne said. “She’s so reliable. I’ve tried to radio Mira, but I can’t reach her, either. She must have turned off her radio by mistake. The captain wants to go through Bimini customs at eight.”

“Bimini? Aren’t we cruising to Atlantis?” Helen said.

“Change of plans,” she said. “A waterspout was reported to the south of us. The National Weather Service issued a warning.”

“That’s like a tornado, right?” Helen said.

“Right. It wasn’t safe for us to continue the voyage. The captain found shelter in Alice Town and anchored. We’ll clear customs this morning, then sail on. Expect the guests to be grumpy about this change in plans.”

Helen looked out the galley window. The morning sky was dark and velvety, but she saw a narrow silver line on the horizon, the first sign of dawn. In the distance Helen could make out a white cabin cruiser. Two sailboats bobbed close to the yacht.

“There are some battered-looking boats down by the swim platform,” Helen said.

“Oh, good,” Suzanne said. “Hope they’re fishermen. Maybe I can get fresh lobster or fish.”

“You can buy fish from boats you don’t know?” Helen said.

“That’s how a chef gets the catch of the day,” Suzanne said. “Local fishing boats bring it straight to the yacht. They tend to overcharge, but it’s always fresh. Stay here and I’ll be right back.”

Suzanne ran out the galley door. Helen saw the fishing boats were moving away from the
Earl
. Now Helen heard a woman’s voice—it was the missing Mira. She was talking too loud and too fast.

“I told her she shouldn’t go,” Mira said. “But she said last night was the last straw. Now she’s gone.”

“She can’t be,” Suzanne said. Her voice was lower and calmer.

“She took off in that cabin cruiser,” Mira said.

Louise jumped ship? Helen had to know the details. She deserted her post and ran down the circular stairs to the swim platform on the lower aft deck. Suzanne, Sam and Carl were listening intently to Mira. Suzanne didn’t notice that Helen had joined the group.

“Louise kept a stash of a thousand dollars’ cash for emergencies,” Mira said. “She said this was an emergency—she had to save her sanity. She paid that charter boat a thousand dollars to take her away. That white one there.”

She pointed toward the horizon where the cabin cruiser was disappearing fast.

“I tried to stop her, but she pushed me away,” Mira said. “Louise said she was desperate. I tried to hang on, but I couldn’t. I hurt my knee and hit my head. Look.”

Mira showed them a nasty scrape on her right knee and a dime-sized bloody spot on her scalp. “She pulled out my barrette,” she said.

“I think we’d better report to the captain right now,” Carl said.

CHAPTER 22

J
osiah Swingle was dangerously angry. He did not shout when Mira told him that Louise left the ship. If anything, his voice was lower and calmer. But Helen saw his jaw muscles bunch as he clenched his teeth. That was the only signal to beware.

The captain called an emergency meeting in the mess while the crew ate breakfast. He looked tired this morning, though his uniform was fresh and he’d taken time to shave.

The crew was quiet. Their usual chatter had dried up. Suzanne had set out breakfast for the staff. Helen grabbed a tortilla stuffed with cheese, eggs and potatoes, and poured a cup of coffee. She sat down at the table next to Sam. Even after a rough night the young deckhand looked ridiculously handsome. He gave her a tentative smile and scooted over in the booth.

Andrei sat on the other side, glowering at his coffee. Carl, the first mate, had stayed on the bridge. Suzanne perched on the stairs, ready to sprint up to the galley if she heard anyone come into the dining room.

The captain stood in the center of the room.

Mira sat at the edge of the U-shaped booth and recited her story
again. “Everyone knows that Louise was ready to quit,” she said, looking around the room for confirmation. “She told all of us she was sick of working on the boat, didn’t she? Well?”

After an awkward silence, Matt the bosun said, “That’s true.”

“I heard her say it,” Andrei said.

“Me, too,” Sam said.

“I bet she even told you, Helen,” Mira said.

“She said she was sick of waiting on rich idiots,” Helen said.

“Sh! Keep your voice down,” Mira cautioned. “What if a guest heard you?”

“You asked,” Helen said, trying to keep her voice mild.

“Louise may have complained,” Suzanne said, “but we all do that. She’s always been reliable. I don’t believe she left. She might quit when we got to Atlantis—like the stew Helen replaced—but I can’t see Louise leaving us in the lurch.”

“You didn’t work with her the way I did,” Mira said. “Louise said the storm was the last straw. She knew we had at least ten hours of sailing today. She said she couldn’t stand this yacht another minute. She was afraid she might hurt herself—or a guest.”

Josiah Swingle was a judge listening to the arguments. Now he spoke for the first time since he asked Mira to give her account. “Why would a lone woman with a lot of cash go off on a strange boat in a foreign country?” he asked. “It’s dangerous.”

“It wasn’t risky,” Mira said. “She left on a fishing charter boat that operates out of Miami. The captain was anchored in the same cove as us. He was heading home and happy to have the extra money.”

“What was the name of this boat?” Josiah asked.

“Aces High,”
Mira said. “It docks at the Miami Beach Marina with the other fishing charters.”

“Describe it,” the captain said.

“Typical charter fishing boat,” she said. “Hatteras cabin cruiser, white with a tuna tower. Maybe thirty feet long. Well cared for. I don’t know the size of the crew, but the captain said he had a party of four
fishermen aboard. I think Louise saw the boat, flagged them down and offered the captain cash to take her home. I heard voices and came down to the swim platform. Louise was boarding the boat. She’d already handed her duffel to a crew member. I tried to stop her and that’s when she fought me. Suzanne heard the commotion upstairs. By the time she came down, the boat was gone. Carl was there, too.”

“I’ll tell the Bahamian custom agents,” the captain said.

“Will this make trouble for us?” asked Andrei, the first engineer.

“I don’t think so,” Josiah said. “I haven’t cleared her into the country.

“Back to work, everyone. We’re all behind schedule. The owners are going to customs at eight o’clock. I’ll go with them. We have to present ourselves in person. You’ll leave here at eight fifteen so I can clear in the crew.”

The captain stalked off toward the bridge and the crew got their orders from their immediate supervisors.

“Helen, we have to do Louise’s work as well as ours,” Mira said. “Start the laundry, then go to the galley and help serve breakfast. The men are awake and out of the sky lounge, so I’ll start cleaning it.”

Mira was taking on a tough job, Helen thought. Scotty and his cigars left more ash than a volcanic eruption. She put her breakfast plate and cup in the crew galley dishwasher, threw two loads of towels in the washer and ran upstairs to the coffee- and cinnamon-scented galley. The chef seemed content in her kingdom.

“Finish setting up for breakfast,” Suzanne said. “The guests could show up any moment—at least I hope so. They have to go through customs early if we’re going to make Atlantis today.”

Suzanne had prepared a buffet with colorful fruit salad in melon bowls, baskets of fresh-baked bread and muffins, bowls of Greek yogurt, granola, steel-cut oatmeal, crisp bacon, plump sausages and fried potatoes.

“All you need is an ice sculpture and you’ll have a buffet big enough for a cruise ship,” Helen said.

The chef peeled the tape off the cabinets and removed the Bubble Wrap that kept the china from shifting during the storm. Helen saw at least four sets of china.

“What service should I use?” she asked.

“The Spode Stafford Flowers on that lower shelf.” Suzanne handed her a plate with delicate flowers and a scrolled gold rim.

“Pretty,” Helen said.

“I’ll say. It’s eight hundred a place setting,” she said. “We only bring it out when the sea is calm.”

“My hands tremble at the thought of carrying it,” Helen said.

“Just be glad you don’t have to serve a formal dinner. Missus likes to use her Royal Copenhagen Flora Danica. That’s seven thousand a place setting.”

“I could trip and wipe out a year’s wages,” Helen said.

The footsteps on the guest staircase silenced their conversation. A rumpled, red-eyed Scotty staggered into the galley, trailing wisps of cigar smoke. He’d changed into fresh clothes, but still smelled like stale stogies.

“Got any coffee?” he asked. Exhausted by those three words, he sat in the dining room. Earl and Ralph followed a little later. Earl managed one word: “Coffee.” Ralph grunted. Helen wasn’t sure if that was a command or a greeting.

After a coffee infusion, the men ordered hearty meat-and-cheese-stuffed omelets with sausage, bacon and fried potatoes. Helen delivered the food without a mishap.

“Got any hot sauce, Chef?” Earl asked.

“Six kinds,” Suzanne said. “Louisiana Hot Sauce, Tabasco sauce, Scorned Woman—”

“Stop! I’ll take Scorned Woman,” Earl said. “Don’t bother with a sissy bowl. Serve it straight from the bottle.”

Helen watched Earl drown his omelet in the fiery brownish sauce.

“Jeez, Earl, is your mouth lined with asbestos?” Scotty said.

“Best cure for a hangover I know,” Earl said as the sweat broke out on his forehead.

“The best cure I know is to keep drinking,” Scotty said.

All three men abandoned their breakfasts after a few bites. After two cups of coffee, Scotty was alert enough to ask, “Why are we anchored? This isn’t Atlantis.”