Getting Old is the Best Revenge (25 page)

She sits there, lost in her troubled thoughts.

Finally I remind her, "The last night?"

"Everything seemed . . . surreal. We were drunk and drugged. The men were mean. Their jokes were about us, and cutting. As if safety in numbers made them brave enough to say what they really thought of these silly women who had bought them. I tried to tell Jo, but she was numb."

Amy gets up again. "I can't stand it," she says, and bursts into tears. She paces, now speaking quickly as if to get it over with. We follow her with our eyes.

"We met them in that bar they liked so much with that leering devil's face. They looked guilty about something. And also excited. Yes, very excited. They had just dumped the room key cards on the bar and were picking them up again . . . not picking up their own keys. No, not their own."

" 'Last night on board and the ultimate game.' I remember it was Tom Johnson who announced it. He walked--more like wobbled--toward Margaret and put his arm about her, nuzzled her neck, and waved her room key at her. 'Shall we?' She got it right away and nuzzled back. Margaret was giggling and winking at us as they walked away."

Now Amy stops moving. Her voice seems strangled.

"Then Dick Sampson went over to Jo. She was so far gone, I don't think she even knew what was happening. And my Harry snuggled up with Elizabeth. I saw a look in his eyes that made me shiver. There was cruelty. Like the vet's assistant he was, about to put a pit bull down." Amy's voice becomes a whisper. "Bob Martinson took me. I didn't want to go with him. I tried to get away but his hand holding my arm was like steel."

Elio mumbles an angry Italian curse word. Angelina seems devastated. She moves even closer to him for comfort.

Amy looks at me. "I wasn't honest with you. I thought about calling the women, but I was ashamed. And I thought they might be, too. I was so sure that we would meet again on this trip-- without the men--and maybe be able to talk about what went wrong."

She sinks back down in her chair, eyes closed, utterly exhausted. Angelina gets up and, with her walker, moves over to her and touches her hand gently.

It is very quiet in the room. We can hear the band playing on the deck right above us and people laughing.

"Those sons of bitches!" snarls Elio, nearly leaping out of his seat.

Angelina grabs his arm to restrain him. "What's to figure out? They killed their wives. They were after the money."

"They all had alibis," I say.

"Then they hired a killer. That's what rich people can do," Angelina adds.

Here goes nothing. I'm going to ask, but I know the answer. "Amy, I was informed that the other women had prenuptial agreements. Did you?"

"Of course. Harry knew up front. I had a settlement drawn up for him. A very generous one. My house to live in for his lifetime. A large monthly allowance. Stocks and bonds. He was very satisfied with that."

"Then, what changed?" I ask. "Why would four strangers suddenly decide to kill all their wives?"

41

Boy Toys

SIX WEEKS EARLIER

They were sitting at the Devil's Own Bar. The glittering neon sign above them showed a sneering,
cartoonish red devil with its menacing tail wound
about an animated sign that read "Three Sins--
Drink, Women, and Money."

Since this was the last night on board--
Captain's Dinner night on the world-famous cruise
ship
Heavenly--
the four young, handsome men
were elegantly dressed in tuxedos. They were deep
in intense conversation.

They were diligently drinking, as well, four
empty martini glasses lined up in front of each.
One newly filled. It was time for a toast.

Totally unmindful of the activities around
them, they ignored not only the posh couples
parading past them along the walk-through corridor, but also the Angels' Strolling Choir serenading
the guests with suitably chosen songs for the cocktail hour. Right now they were singing "Pennies
from Heaven."

Yet the men noticed nothing. They lifted their
glasses.

"The game's over. It's our game now."

"It was all about trust."

"No promises broken."

"No backing out."

"Agreed."

"All for one and one for all."

They clinked their glasses with shared smiles.

The woman was pushing fifty, pretending to be
forty, overdressed, overly made-up, desperation
hidden by her idea of witty repartee. She elbowed
up alongside them.

"Can I believe my eyes? Four dashing guys
drinking alone without pretty women draped
around their shoulders?"

She ran her fingers through the blond hair of
the man seated closest to her. He removed her
hand.

"Sorry, old girl, take your business elsewhere."

"Yeah. We're happily married guys," said the
next one. But there was ice in his voice belying his
words.

Rebuffed, she tried for an exit line. "I never
met a happily married guy, let alone four of them.
Maybe they should put you in a wax museum or
something." With that she backed off.

It was as if there had been no interruption. The
men removed their room key cards from their
pockets and tossed them onto the bar. Each man
chose a key card other than his own.

"They thought we wouldn't find out?"

"They're in for a big surprise."

"Hot time in the old town tonight."

"What I like best about it . . ."

"Yeah?"

"No one, and I mean no one, will ever figure
it out."

42

Strangers on a Ship

I
t's two o'clock in the morning and I'm pacing. Not easy to do in a room the size of a postage stamp. The girls fell asleep early. No wonder, they were exhausted. I am, too, but my mind won't shut off.

"Glad?" I hear Evvie whisper. "You can't sleep?"

"No. I'm sorry, did I wake you?" I whisper, too, so that we don't wake Ida.

"I have to get up to go to the bathroom anyway." With that she walks past me into our tiny commode.

"Don't forget, don't flush," I say.

"I know," she answers.

The mechanism that makes the toilet flush is so loud it could wake the dead. The first time we heard it, we nearly jumped out of our skins. Then we started to laugh and decided never to flush at night.

Evvie comes back out and sits down on our lone chair. "What a day!"

"That's for sure." Amy has moved in with the Sicilianos, sharing their large suite. Elio swears he will guard her with his life. She will be safe with them. He is all for going to the captain tomorrow morning and telling him what we know. But I can guess what Captain Standish will say. What makes us so sure? What's our proof? How would he find a killer among thousands of people? A nameless hired assassin.

"What's bothering you?" Evvie asks.

"It's the motive. If I could only make that connection between those men." I sit down on the edge of my mattress and cross my legs yoga-style.

"They talked it over and decided they wanted the money now."

"But why? They had plenty of money and plenty more coming later. They had a sweet setup. Why take a chance on maybe getting caught, ending up in jail and getting nothing?"

"Sometimes when people get in a group, someone starts to give the others the idea."

"Maybe, but it would have to be strong for them to chance losing what they already had."

"You want to watch the late movie? Maybe it'll put you to sleep." Our ship makes sure we're entertained twenty-four hours every day.

"I hope so. If it's an oldie in black and white, that'll get me to nod off."

We both climb back down onto our mattresses. Evvie turns on our TV and keeps the sound low. We scrunch into our pillows to get comfortable and pull the covers around our necks.

Evvie punches my arm in excitement. "Look! Look what's on. It's one of my favorite movies."

In a matter of moments I recognize
Strangers
on a Train.

"Aw, shucks," Evvie complains. "We missed the part when Robert Walker tells Farley Granger about killing one another's wives. Ooh, I love this movie."

"And I love to sleep!" Ida opens one eye, pulling her pillow over her head.

"Go ahead, who's stopping you?" Evvie answers.

"What are you watching?" Ida asks, her voice now muffled.

"Strangers on a Train."

"I hate that movie. It's stupid. Who'd believe that plot?" And Ida is snoring again.

Evvie jumps up and down. "
I
believe that plot! That's what these guys did. There was no hired killer. They exchanged wives. Strangers on a Ship!"

I'm right with her. "That's what the key cards were really for. That's how they picked their target!"

"We solved it!"

"Not yet. There's a piece missing. I have to call Amy."

I get up and head for the phone.

"You can't." Evvie puts her hand on my arm. "It's the middle of the night."

I stop in my tracks. What was I thinking? "You're right. I'll ask her tomorrow morning. She doesn't know it, but she holds the key to the motives of those evil boy toys."

I'll never be able to fall asleep now. But who cares?

I smile. Gladdy Gold is back on track.

43

Breakfast at Heavenly's

T
he ship is fairly deserted by now. Everyone's

gone sightseeing in St. Thomas, though the sky outside seems to be threatening rain. We're practically alone in the dining room. The Sicilianos. Amy Larkin. Me and my girls. Only Sophie and Bella are scarfing down goodies from the wonderful spread in front of us. Ida still eats carefully. Evvie nibbles. But Angelina, Amy, and Elio aren't interested in food; they only want to know why I called them together so early this morning. None of them look like they slept much last night, either.

I'm drinking too much coffee, trying to keep myself alert after my own sleepless night.

"When should we go to the captain?" Elio asks.

"Maybe after this," I say.

I've already filled them in on what Evvie and I discussed last night. Ida is still incredulous that we actually figured it out by watching
Strangers on a
Train.

"Bob Martinson," Amy murmurs. "Now it comes back to me. It was his voice I heard behind me before I fell. He pushed me."

Angelina and Elio are stunned. Jo's husband is on this ship!

Elio says angrily, "If he's here, I'll find him."