This book is dedicated to Karen Clark, a wonderful friend
who has always been there and supported me.
Thanks Karen. You are a very special peson.
Beverley Bateman is a Canadian author of several books who loves traveling, good wine and a mystery. She lives with her husband and two Shiba Inu dogs among vineyards and orchards set in lake country and surrounded by mountains, beaches, swimming and skiing. She loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her at babateman@shaw.ca , or check out her website at www.beverleybateman.com or her blog at http://beverleybateman.blogspot.com
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
PROLOGUE
Maybe I’m in over my head. What made me think I could pull something like this off?
Her hand trembled slightly when she placed the glass of wine on a side table. She opened the French doors to the balcony. Hesitated and then picked up the glass again and carried it outside with her. Her hands shook. She chewed her lower lip.
The crisp, Miami spring breeze caressed her face. She closed her eyes, enjoying its cool touch.
Drugs and parties have been my lifestyle for the last few years. What makes me think I can walk away and leave it all behind me? I almost took a drink back there; I’ve still got the damn glass in my hand. Am I fooling myself? Maybe I can’t drag myself back to a normal life. God, after what I allowed myself to sink to, it would be a miracle if I did escape this life.
She remembered far too vividly that morning when she hit rock bottom. She’d lain there, staring at the water-stained, filthy, ceiling. Feelings of nausea and revulsion churned inside her. Her eyes had trouble focusing on the filthy, puke-colored wallpaper. Large strips of the paper had peeled back and hung strips, exposing large, garish, pink roses peeking through the ripped areas.
Fighting the nausea she tried to focus, attempting to dredge up some memory of where she was--or how the hell she even got here, wherever that was.
Nausea rolled over her in waves. Who’d brought her to this place?
Disgust wrapped around her as she struggled to remember what happened the previous night.
The revulsion that shot through her body made her shiver and grab her stomach.
Tears welled up as she tried to figure out how she’d fallen into this state.
Why did they have to die and leave her alone?
The drugs and alcohol helped relieve the pain for a while. But morning always came, and the loneliness crashed over her.
Trying to shake the memory of the day she hit rock bottom, she opened her eyes. Glasses clinked and voices chattered in the background. She stared out across the perfectly manicured lawn, abstractedly smoothing the hip-hugging, soft, red velvet dress. She wanted to forget that part of her past, but the memories seemed determined to take over tonight.
When I think of that morning, how cold fear covered me like a shroud, it revolts me. I lay there wondering who the hell I was with and what he’d do to me when he came back. A party; it was always a party. I‘d left to find someplace to buy more drugs. That’s all I remember.
Oh God, I needed a bathroom. I remember flipping on the light and slapping my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. Those bloodshot eyes that stared back from the cracked, discolored mirror, sunk in dark circles; the sallow face surrounded by limp, matted blonde hair. I looked like hell. I look at least forty years old.
She struggled to breathe; her heart pounded, her hands were cold and sweaty. She remembered the disgust she felt at what she had become. Bag ladies on the street looked better than she did that day. She’d groped her way around the room until she found most of her clothes. Yanking them on, she’d grabbed her shoes and purse, and ran.
In some ways, she was still running, but she was trying to stop. She wanted to make a new life for herself. She had to see if she could really do it. Could she bury her memory and move on to something that would merit her parents’ approval?
Damn it, I can do this. I’m my father’s daughter.
She jerked her shoulders back, lifted her chin and clenched her teeth tightly together. Her hand unconsciously brushed an imaginary piece of lint off the designer dress.
If she set her mind to it, she could do anything.
A sigh escaped. She started to chew her lower lip. Swiping her fist at the stray tear that slipped down her cheek, she turned toward the house and opened the door.
God, I want a drink.
Inside the house she was aware of moving bodies and the blending of colors. It was ironic. In her effort to escape this lifestyle, she was right back in the middle of it; parties and alcohol. This time though, she was here because it was her job.
Gino had given her a chance to escape: a chance to gain her self-respect back. She wasn’t going to disappoint him. She wasn’t going to disappoint her parents anymore. Maybe, most importantly, she wasn’t going to disappoint herself.
All she had to do was watch and see if anybody went near the library or acted suspicious. It was basic Criminology 101. She could handle it. From what she could see of her old crowd, nobody was interested in the library or the contents of its safe anyhow. They just wanted to smoke, drink, and party.
She stared down into the Austrian crystal champagne glass in her hand. She salivated at the mere thought of taking a drink. Swirling the glass gently she watched the golden liquid climb to the gold rim then rivulet down the sides.
I don’t need it. I’m not an alcoholic.
Maybe not, but I sure as hell want it.
She tossed the contents into a nearby plastic palm tree container and deposited the glass on a table she passed.
She was working.
“Darling, I missed you. Where did you disappear to?”
A tall, dark-haired man in a navy blazer, with a family crest on the pocket, emerged from the mass of bodies and sailed up to her. He glanced admiringly at her dress, and then he slipped his arm across her bare back and slid it down until it encircled her waist.
“I brought you a drink.”
“Sorry David, I needed a breath of fresh air.” She curled her fingers around the stem of the crystal champagne glass he offered her. “Thank you. It’s a great party, but I need to leave you again, for a minute. I have to make a phone call.”
She slipped out of his proprietary hold. Her lips touched the edge of the glass and she fluttered her eyelashes. She peered up through the dark fringe, meeting his adoring look.
“But I just found you. You know, I don’t think you’re really into this party. Is there something wrong? I can get you something if it would help?” A touch of petulance tinged David’s voice. His lower lip slid slightly forward as he placed his hands on her shoulders, and gazed into her eyes.
She knew exactly what he was offering. He’d been one of her main drug links in the past.
“No thanks, David, not tonight. I’m a little tired. I am enjoying the party. Mitzi always throws wonderful extravaganzas. It’s only one call. I won’t be more than a few minutes.”
“Can’t you call whoever later?”
“Now, David, don’t pout. I said I wouldn’t be long.” She pasted a smile on her lips. Her mother would be proud of her.
“I’ll be right back, and we can dance the rest of the night away, like old times.” She pursed her lips together in a pout and walked her fingers slowly up the front of his tailored blue blazer. Her eyes locked in his until she reached the lapel and then she removed his hands from her shoulders.
“You promise?” His lower lip protruded slightly more.
She touched his cheek; the silver ring on her finger sparkled and caught the light from a chandelier.
“Of course, I promise. Now, David, you have to let me go. And remember, the next dance is mine. See if you can get them to play something slow and romantic. I’ll be right back.”
Her mother had taught her well. She hadn’t appreciated it until now.
“Hurry back. It’s lonely without you.” He grasped her hand from his cheek, kissing her fingertips. “By the way, are you on for the trip tomorrow? We could leave from my place in the morning.”
“What trip?” She withdrew her fingers.
“You don’t know? Some of the gang is flying to Paris for a few days, to do some shopping and take in the Lido. You know--just for fun. Julie’s dad said we could use his private plane. Come with us.”
“Oh, David, I don’t think so. I... I’ve got things I need to do.”
“That can always wait, Paris can’t. Come on, you’ve never hesitated before.”
“True, but it’s short notice. I’ll think about it.” The smile on her face was beginning to hurt. All she wanted to do right now was to escape from this damn party.
“If you change your mind, we’re meeting out at the airport tomorrow around noon. If you don’t leave from my place, pack a bag and meet us there. Paris is always great fun. Remember?”
“I remember. We’ll see.” She slinked across the marble dance floor toward the library. Her hips undulated in time with the beat of the music.
Her eyes scanned the room, noting the objects d’art in the cabinets on the small tables placed subtly around the room. They looked like things a thief might want to steal. And then there were the original paintings that hung on the walls. It wasn’t up to her to offer advice to a thief, but he was missing a lot of great stuff. Her job was to make sure he wasn’t hiding in the library, stealing the family jewels.
Fingers circled the brass doorknob. She glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes squinting into the dimly lit atmosphere, searching for anything out of the normal.
Dense clouds of smoke hung across the room, accompanied by a strong, pungent odor. The clouds thickened over the areas where the lavishly dressed young people lounged in small clusters alongside the dance floor. Wispy strands of the smoke sneaked out from the dense mass, stretching their fingers to the far corners of the room, leaving no one free from at least a breath or two of the cloying cloud. Underneath the fog the group chattered--smoking and laughing loudly--perhaps louder than necessary.
Were they really enjoying themselves and their lives?
She shrugged. It was their life--not hers any longer.
No sign of any criminal activity here. Gino must have his information wrong. She’d give him a quick call and let him know nothing was going down tonight. Then she’d get out of here.
A warm bath filled with her favorite bubble bath and maybe Mozart playing in the background sounded pretty inviting right about now.
What made me think I could be a private investigator? My father was a successful businessman. I’d hoped to follow in his footsteps and become a successful businesswoman. Right now I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. But thanks to Gino at least I have one more chance. I have no intention of blowing it.
The latest dance band blasted forth from the four expensive speakers located strategically around the room. Pictures rocked on the walls, shifting positions as the music vibrated back and forth. Small pieces of china appeared to move, snail like, as the music assaulted them.
Voices rose and fell, punctuated by the occasional burst of raucous laughter--another weekend gathering of the young and the wealthy in the Florida beach area.
She wasn’t the same person who had partied with these people a few months ago. Finally, she was working on becoming the person she wanted to be--once she figured out who that person was. This was the first big step.
She turned the doorknob. After she called Gino, she’d escape and head home.
Champagne glass in one hand, she fumbled for the light switch with her other one. Light flooded the room. She glanced around. A sickly scent reached her nostrils.
Her glass crashed to the floor, shattering into millions of pieces.
She opened her mouth to scream.
Silence.
“Damn,” he growled as he slithered silently across the room, covering the distance between them in two smooth strides.
She froze, unable to make a sound.
Their eyes locked. She found herself staring into a pair of dark, hostile eyes.
Kicking the door shut, he covered her open, voiceless mouth with a gloved hand.
She stared, mesmerized. There was pain.
Then everything faded to black.
CHAPTER ONE
The steamy Puerto Rican air slapped Eric Peterson in the face as the sliding door automatically opened. He hesitated at the sudden temperature change, before he proceeded outside into the heat of the upper deck of the ship. Leaning on the rail, the sun beating down on the back of his neck, he scanned the diorama from the dock area to old town San Juan.
The old and the new intermingled amongst the ongoing construction, forming an interesting panorama. He wished he’d come in a day or two earlier to tour the area. He’d only received the information on the assignment a few days ago. He needed to get up to speed before the cruise ship sailed.
Eric turned his attention to the dock below, where boarding had commenced. A staggered line of passengers shuffled toward the main gangway.
His gaze snapped back to two women who stopped briefly for the ship’s photographer. The older woman was well dressed in a white, semi-tailored skirt and a pinkish blouse. She wore her silver hair in an elegant bun at the base of her neck. The jewelry around her neck and her wrist sparkled as it caught the sun’s rays, magnifying the light, shooting it back toward the sky. He had no doubt they were diamonds, probably high quality. If she was trying to draw attention to herself, she was certainly going to accomplish it.
Jewels were one of his areas of expertise and the main reason he’d managed to pull this assignment. That, and the short time he’d spent as a medic in the army.
His eyes lingered on the younger woman. She shone like a jewel in her own right--white-blonde, shoulder-length hair, gleamed in the sunlight. Her green colored sundress fit her body, revealing the promise of well-rounded breasts and a tiny waistline.
A strong desire to meet this attractive young woman gripped him.
He’d never felt anything like this before. He gave himself a mental shake.
It’s probably the motion of the ship. Yeah, that, or I’m just plain horny. It’s been awhile since I scored.
Eric’s continued to observe her as she proceeded up the gangway. The sundress she wore was some kind of soft material that draped and clung to that perfectly proportioned figure. He wondered if the color of the dress matched her eyes.
She glanced upward, smiling. He felt she was smiling just for him. Eric smiled back, resisting an urge to wave. This assignment was looking better and better. He watched her disappear through the entrance.
Work was his life. He was damn good at it and respected by his peers. To him, women were an enjoyable pastime. A smile flickered across his face. Yes, they were enjoyable, but that was all. He’d never let any woman interfere with his work. That’s why it had been awhile since he’d been with anyone.
Eric’s attitude toward women was based on what they could do for him. Usually it was sex, but occasionally they could help him with his job, like this time.
He glanced back toward the gangway, but the two women had disappeared. An elderly man with a cane had replaced them.
Disappointment slipped over him. This was a feeling that he knew well, although it wasn’t one he normally associated with women.
Because of his background and upbringing, he’d decided years ago that he wanted a career, with no strings or attachments, and no permanent involvements. He’d even taken a vow when he was in college, to remain single--though not celibate--his entire life. He had seen far too many bad marriages to even consider the possibility. It wasn’t in the cards for him.
Besides, there were too many beautiful girls to charm. It would take a lifetime to get around to most of them. And none of them wanted their man to be away on dangerous missions after they were married. They wanted a stay at home, family-orientated husband.
That left him out of the picture.
No, he was independent, happy to travel to different parts of the world, playing different roles, depending on his assignment. He had no one to worry about but himself. He had no intention of ever changing his lifestyle, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t meet and enjoy the company of a beautiful blonde.
Eric strode back to the sliding glass door. When it opened, it was the cool inside air that blasted him. He didn’t hesitate and stepped quickly inside. He chose the stairs instead of the elevator. He hurried down the steps, running his hand over the teak railings. He enjoyed the feel of the well-crafted wood. They were polished to a mirror-like shine with brass accents.
He took the steps two at a time and arrived at the main lobby area within minutes. Stopping before the last few stairs he paused where he had a good view of both the entrance and the lobby. It gave him a clear view of the passengers who boarded.
He relaxed against the wall and scanned the entire room. There was no sign of the blonde in the green sundress. She must have gone to her cabin. Slightly disappointed, he looked back to the entrance and skimmed over each person entered.
The passengers would appreciate the lobby with the huge teardrop crystal chandelier hanging over the comfortable pink sofas and glass coffee tables. Large bouquets of colorful arranged flowers in hues of pink and purple and blue sat on the corner tables. It had that welcome-to-my-home feeling.
A couple burst into the room. The man wore red plaid shorts, a yellow and orange floral shirt, brown socks, and black shoes. A straw hat was smashed onto his head, and a camera with a large lens swung around his neck. His large paw-like hand clutched an economy, used to be white, handkerchief, which he used to mop his florid face.
“Hurry up, Myra. Don’t take all day. We don’t want to waste any time. Not at these prices.” He yelled at the woman behind him.
A short, thin woman shuffled through the entrance, a dozen steps behind him.
She wore a large, lime-green tee shirt with the map of Alabama on the front. It hung over a pair of brown cotton shorts, one size too small. A red scarf was tied over her mousy brown hair. She carried a humungous green plastic purse hooked over her shoulder. Large black sunglasses perched partway down her nose.
They both carried huge shopping bags that kept banging first into each other, then into the crew who were there to welcome them. An air of not--so--quiet desperation hung over them.
“So, where the hell do we go now?”
“Welcome aboard, sir. Do you have your boarding passes?” One of the female crewmembers asked.
“Yeah, yeah, you got them Myra?”
“Yes, George, I think so.” The woman put down her shopping bag, slipping the large green plastic handbag from her shoulder and balanced the bag on her knee. She started to fumble through it, yanking out a comb, then a pocket book, then shoving them back again, pushing things around inside the bag with her hands.
“I know I got them somewhere, George. Hold on, I think it’s here.” She wiped her forehead with a fist then dove back into the bag again.
“Damn it, Myra. I gave them to you so as you could hold them, not lose the damn things. You can’t ever find anything in that damn purse of yours.”
“Here they are.” She pulled them triumphantly out of her bag.
“It’s about time, damn it. I can’t depend on you for anything, gimme.” He grabbed the boarding passes and shoved them at the crewmember.
“Here, so, where the hell do we go now?”
The woman crewmember read the passes. “You’re cabin is to the right sir, on the main deck.”
“Okay, fine, hotshot, how do we get there?” The man mopped his face.
“The porter will show you.” She waved, and a porter appeared in front of them.
“Welcome aboard, sir. Follow me and I’ll escort you to your cabin. Can I carry anything for you, sir?” The porter flashed a bright smile.
“Y’r damn right, here take these bags.” The man shoved the shopping bags at the porter.
The man, George, sighed loudly. “I don’t know, Myra. I don’t know why people keep saying cruising is so great. Damn it, give me Nashville any day.”
“Once you’re settled in, sir, I’m sure you’ll enjoy the cruise.” The porter headed toward the corridor, with the couple shuffling along behind him.
“They took the damn passports, too. Damn it, Myra, I don’t know why a United States citizen should have to carry a passport on a cruise. You didn’t need one to go to Nashville. And then when you arrive at the damn ship they take it away from you. What the hell are they going to want from us next?”
Eric smiled. He could relate to these people. Maybe not the outfits they wore, or the man’s negativism, but the unknown. This was Eric’s first time on a cruise ship also.
He shifted his position and continued to watch passengers entering in a slow, steady stream. Many were well-dressed, wealthy passengers.
The right corner of his upper lip curled upward into a sneer. In his experience, the wealthy were mostly leeches and bloodsuckers, who took from society and gave nothing in return. They were too wrapped up in their own importance, separated from any vestige of the real world.
His father had worked for such a man when they lived in Switzerland. Eric had gone to school with his son, Philippe. Because of that, he’d had to cope with on-going public humiliation because of Philippe and his superior attitude toward the middle class and the poor. Philippe had been a snob and a real prick, taking great delight in pointing out Eric’s class distinction to everyone.
Eric’s smile was tinged with bitterness. He preferred the couple from Alabama. They were down-to-earth, real people. They looked like they were from a small farm somewhere out in the country. They may have been dressed in their brilliant floral shirts right off the souvenir shop rack, accompanied by those clashing Bermuda shorts, but they were real.
He might smile at their typical tourist appearance--the big camera slung around the man’s neck--but Eric had more respect for them than he did for the nouveau riche. He respected people who worked hard for their money. They were usually family-oriented and contributed to their community. They were the ones that kept a country together.
He shifted his position again, unconsciously pulling his shoulders back and tightening his abdomen. A tall, leggy, redhead with large breasts sidled through the main doorway. He found himself admiring a pair of shapely legs that seemed to go forever until they finally joined with an equally shapely body, most of which was displayed for the public to appreciate. She wore a pair of brief, tight white shorts and a sleeveless black tee shirt with a low cut V-neck. Her designer sunglasses hung from the V of her t-shirt.
The woman paused. She surveyed the room with a lazy gaze. She stopped to look at Eric an smiled. She bent down, supposedly to tie the shoelace on one of her runners. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She didn’t need one, and he appreciated the large, firm breasts that were exposed to him--and anyone else who wanted to look. Little was left to his imagination.
Eric felt his body respond. He smiled in appreciation. She straightened up and looked in his direction. She tilted her head to one side and made direct eye contact. She smiled an invitation in his direction and waited expectantly. He knew she expected him to come over and introduce himself. He doubted if many men ever refused her invitation.
He held the eye contact and struggled with himself. It was a tempting offer. Eric started to take that first step and then jerked back. He was interested, but he wanted to wait and check out the other women who came on board. He wouldn’t have much spare time, and he wanted to spend it wisely. Red was certainly near the top of his list at the moment, right behind the petite blonde.
He returned her smile and imperceptibly shook his head. She shrugged and glided across the room to the elevator, hips swaying invitingly.
God, the way she moves promises so much. I must be a fool to turn it down.
She stopped in front of the elevator door, glanced over her shoulder to make sure he was watching. She licked her finger and ran it over her lower lip. When he still didn’t respond, she shrugged again. She gave him a slight wave and she stepped inside the elevator. The doors closed in front of her.
Eric continued to stare at the closed doors, remembering the beautiful, exciting view when she bent down to tie her shoe. He hoped he hadn’t made a damn mistake. It wouldn’t take her long to find a man that showed more interest than he had.
This could definitely be his best assignment yet, but it didn’t look like he was going to have any time to enjoy it. If he did manage to find a little time for the pleasures of life, his gut told him he would prefer to find that attractive young blonde and get to know her a better.
Eric grinned to himself. If he wanted to keep his job he’d better find the man, or woman, he was here to catch. Interpol had been working this case for months with nothing to show for it but some angry victims. This latest tip was the best thing they had come up with since the case started. He needed to review the passenger list again and identify his top suspects. He was sure the tip was solid. They were close. He would get them this time.
He turned back to the entrance in time to see a tall, swarthy, gentleman, probably in his mid to late thirties, saunter into the room. The hairs on the back of Eric’s neck stood on end and an electric shiver gripped his spine, creeping down vertebrae by vertebrae, as he observed the man.
A snake, the man reminded him of a well-oiled snake, ready to strike.
With his olive skin and black hair, slicked back, he was probably Latino.
His perfectly pressed white slacks and a white short-sleeved, designer golf shirt with a green and gold crest over the pocket looked expensive. The golf shirt was open at the neck revealing a thick gold chain. A navy cardigan hooked on one finger, hung casually over his shoulder. He carried a Pierre Cardin gym bag in one hand with his tennis racquet attached to the side.
The man nodded to the crew. He appeared familiar with them. It wasn’t his first cruise. He shook his head at the porter who approached.
Before leaving the area he moved to a corner on Eric’s left, opposite the entrance. He also had a clear view of the people who milled around the lobby, as well as those still coming on board.
He stood quietly, surveying the passengers, much as Eric was doing.
Eric watched the man skip quickly over the ordinary tourists. He concentrated only on the well-dressed passengers. Those who appeared to have money. The man’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a middle-aged lady wearing a diamond necklace and matching bracelet.
Interesting; I wonder whether he’s searching for women or jewelry or both. And what does he plan to do with whatever he finds?
Eric continued to observe the man, trying to read his mind, curious about his reasons for being aboard. He wasn’t here for the cruise, Eric was sure of that. He would have loved the older woman in the diamonds Eric had seen earlier.
What was his game? Was he a gigolo?
The swarthy gentleman appeared to be a man with a purpose. There was something about him...it bothered Eric. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He searched his memory for anything that might have showed up on the pre-sailing search, but nothing popped.
He’d check with Mickey later and see who the guy was and what his purpose was on the ship.
After a few more minutes, the man turned, proceeding quickly down the closest corridor.
Eric stepped down into the lobby and walked down the opposite corridor on the right--no that’s the starboard side of the ship. He needed to start using ship talk.
He checked his watch before he proceeded slowly along the corridor, becoming familiar with the ship’s layout. He moved meticulously up the ship, one deck at a time.
The corridors were longer than any hotel corridor where he had stayed. The ship had to be the size of two or three large hotels, at least. On the eighth deck he noticed the cabin style changing, becoming larger, with more window space and balconies. These were the suites.
On deck nine, the Bridge deck, were the most expensive suites: the owners’ suite and the four family suites. At the end of that corridor, with doors tightly closed, was the Royal Suite: the largest and most expensive accommodation onboard. This was the one he was particularly interested in checking out. If there were going to be any thefts, it would probably be here.
He stopped in front of the solid oak door, staring at the elegant paneling. He wondered who would be staying behind those closed doors.
Eric checked his watch again, and realized he was officially on duty. He raced down the hall, and punched the elevator button. He didn’t want to start his assignment off by being late. Not when he was already concerned about whether the woman, who knew his real reason for being here, was going to accept her role and support him or sabotage him.
***
Jack strode into his cabin and tossed the gym bag and tennis racquet on the bed.
Good, they’ve moved the beds together to form a double bed.
He had no intention of sleeping alone on this cruise. He snorted at the thought. He hadn’t been alone on any of the other trips.
He pulled a piece of paper out of the gym bag and unfolded it. It was a list of the ship’s passengers. Five of them were highlighted in lime green. He’d managed to bribe the ship’s purser for the list of the people who occupied the suites. It cost an arm and a leg, but Jack could claim it under his expenses.
Now he needed to check them out and make sure they’d brought their expensive jewelry with them. He sure as hell didn’t want to take any risks if it wasn’t worth it. The woman in the lobby was probably one of them. Her necklace looked real.
Which one was she? He squinted at the list again before he dropped it on the desk.
He removed a small caliber, revolver from the gym bag. He hefted it a couple of times from hand to hand. A man could never be too careful.
Even the best laid plans...
Look at that last robbery. Who would have expected that?
He opened the cupboard that held the safe, punched in a combination and deposited the gun inside. Closing the safe door, he spun the knob.
He picked up the bottle of Glen Livet Scotch sitting on the table. He’d ordered it when he’d booked the cabin. It would go on the expense account, too. He poured himself three fingers neat and sat down on the bed.
Jack looked at the phone and swore under his breath. He’d better get that part over with quickly. He’d put it off as long as he could. He took a swig, picked up the phone and dialed.
He hadn’t talked to him since the last robbery. He’d left a message right after, and then he’d lain low, in case someone had seen something.
The phone was picked up almost immediately.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“How could you have been so stupid? You should have killed her,” the voice on the other end shouted.
“And hello to you, too. It crossed my mind. However, you’d have to be stupid to do it there, which by the way, I’m not. There were too many risks. I was gonna’ take her to a drop site and take care of her then. When I spotted the damn drunk check roadblock the cops had set up, it seemed safer to get rid of her as fast as possible. I dumped her and got out of there. ”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. I guess it couldn’t be helped. We’ll have to do damage control. Where the hell is she now?”
“She was admitted to a Miami hospital. In our favor, she’s got amnesia, can’t remember a damn thing--not even who she is.” Jack took a sip of Scotch, closed his eyes, enjoying it as it slithered down his throat, burning a path as it went.
“She’s got amnesia, huh? That is one thing on our side. Let’s hope it lasts until we clean up the mess. How did you find out?”
“I took a nurse out for a drink.”
“Good. Is she still in the hospital?”
“Nope, some old biddy took a shine to her and took her home. Last I checked, she was still at the old biddy’s house.”
“Can we get to her there?”
“I don’t know, maybe. Probably, I don’t see why not.” Jack kicked his feet up onto the bed. He stretched out with his shoes resting on the yellow cotton cover.
“Do you know how long she’ll be there?”
“Nope. She hasn’t any money so she’s going to depend on other people to help her. I would imagine she’ll hang out there for a while. I didn’t want to start snooping around and have people asking questions about me. Besides, I’m outta here today. Remember?” Jack took another sip of scotch.
“Yeah, I know. Make sure there are no bloody screw-ups on this next job, will you? I need it to go smooth. The big guys are breathing down my neck.”
“No problem, piece of cake,” Jack said.
“Give me the old biddy’s address. I’ll have someone pick up her trail.”
Jack reeled off the address.
“Keep an eye on our problem while I make arrangements to assure she doesn’t become a bigger problem. I want a permanent solution. She needs to be gone.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll catch you later and let you know how things are going.” Jack hung up the phone.
Lying back on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling.
It really was too bad he hadn’t had a chance to get to know Miss Nosey better, a lot better, before they got rid of her permanently.
***
Holly and Lillian took the elevator up to Deck Nine with the porter. Hallie tagged along behind them as they headed down the corridor.
How was she ever going to remember how to find their cabin? She had no idea which direction they were heading.
Her hands skimmed over the fine cotton material of the skirt of her sundress. It was one of many outfits Lillian had bought her for the cruise. Lillian said this one enhanced the color of her eyes. It was funny, because she still had to think what color her eyes really were. She should be feeling happier or more excited about this cruise, but what she felt was a huge knot in her stomach and an overwhelming urge to cry. She still had absolutely no idea who she was or where she lived.
It was odd not having an identity; in fact, it was damn painful. Lillian said to take it as a gift and use it to build herself the way she wanted. But when you couldn’t remember anything, rebuilding or molding a new personality wasn’t that easy.
Hallie only remembered the events of the past ten days. She had no recollection of anything before that. Lillian was wonderful, explaining things simply and providing lots of experiences for Hallie to find out what she liked and didn’t like: foods, music and clothes, even books.
Hallie had learned quite a bit about things that most people took for granted, but there were so many unknowns. She kept hoping a sound or smell might trigger a memory. The doctors said it might take a while before it came back, or maybe she might never get it back.
Someone shoved Hallie as they pushed by her. She stumbled, bumping into the wall. Her eyes briefly met the stranger’s eyes. She shivered, but wasn’t sure why.
“Sorry ma’am. I seem to be on the wrong damn deck. I can’t find my room and this damn ship rocks so I can’t even walk properly on this damn ship.” The psychedelic shirt moved on, staggering slightly with an imagined rolling of the ship.
“No problem.” Hallie stared at the man as he continued to sway down the corridor and around the corner by the elevator.
Odd person, she thought. Most people had porters so they didn’t get lost when they were finding their rooms.
“Are you excited yet?” Lillian asked over her shoulder.
“What? Sorry.” Hallie scurried up to where Lillian had stopped.
“I thought we’d lost you. I asked if you were excited about the cruise yet.”
“Oh, yes. Yes, very. I’m sure it will be fun. The ship is beautiful. I can see why you’d want to come on a cruise. It’s fascinating.”
“Yes, it is.” Lillian reached back as Hallie caught up with her and squeezed her hand.
“We have to find the ship’s doctor as soon as we get settled.” Hallie reminded her.
“Yes, yes, I know. We’ll find him soon enough.” Lillian replied.
“No, Lillian, not ‘we’ll find him soon enough’. I promised both your niece and your doctor we’d see him first thing and make sure he knows all about you. I don’t intend to break a promise. With everything you’ve done for me, I owe it to you and to them, to take care of you.”
“Trust me to end up with an honest, dependable companion and friend. Okay, okay. We’ll find him, right after we unpack.”
“Good.”
“You know you’re taking this companion thing far too seriously, don’t you?”
“I have to. You told me you expected me to take it seriously.”
“Did I? I don’t remember saying any such thing. I’m sure I’d know better than that.”
“But...” Hallie’s lower lip trembled.
“Tut-tut now. It’s all right. I’m teasing. We’ll go and see that doctor as soon as we’re settled in. Then we can enjoy the rest of the cruise. What do you think the chances are that he’ll be young, cute, and single? Or, on the other hand, old, bald, and short sighted might work, too.”
Hallie laughed and shook her head. “I didn’t know you were looking for a man.”
“One always looks, my dear, one always looks. But I know I’ll never find one that can hold a candle to my Charlie.” A faint smile flickered across her face.
“Well, I’m not even looking,” Hallie stated emphatically.
That was the last thing she needed right now. She couldn’t remember who she was, let alone if she was involved with someone, or even if she might be married. It was terrifying not knowing if she’d ever made love to someone and what was even worse, not remembering if she had enjoyed it.
Until she figured it out, she certainly wasn’t looking for any prospects on board the ship. In fact, until she got her memory back, she couldn’t get involved with anyone.
What if I have a husband or fiancée looking for me? What if I have children? It wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Or, oh God, what if I’m a criminal?
Hallie unconsciously held her stomach to counteract the fear and loneliness that enveloped her. You’d think if she had anyone in her life they would have missed her by now. It had been ten days. The police didn’t have any reports on a person even close to her description being reported missing. They had even checked around the country.
Thank God for Lillian. Where would I be if Lillian hadn’t helped me?
The porter opened the door, standing back to let Lillian enter. Hallie followed and stopped in the doorway. She stared at the Royal Suite. A large, beige couch covered with pillows of sunshine yellow and earth brown tones sat in the center of the room, with a matching lounge chair off to the right. A deep yellow vase filled with a colorful bouquet of fresh flowers sat in the middle of an oak and brass coffee table. Burnished brass lamps sat on the oak and brass end tables.
Several reproductions of the old masters hung on the walls. Hallie wondered if she knew anything about art. She did know they were copies.
How would I know that? Common sense, because they wouldn’t put originals on a ship, would they?
“Wow.” Hallie strolled around the room.
The porter indicated the two separate bedrooms, the large bathroom, and the outside balcony. He turned on the television and demonstrated the remote control.
“There is a butler assigned to this suite. I’m sure he will be here shortly to help you unpack,” the porter said.
“That will be fine.” Lillian nodded.
As soon as the porter left, Lillian moved to the large bedroom, plopped down on the bed and took off her shoes. “Ahh, that’s better. Now, I need to get rid of these blasted nylons.”
She stood up and started to hitch and pull at her nylons. “I can hardly wait to find my sandals and put them on. Why do women have to wear nylons? Even in this weather.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t even know what nylons were until you explained them to me and showed me how to put them on. I agree though, I’d rather not wear them. Did he say butler?”
“Yes, he comes with the suite.”
“So what is a butler and exactly what does he do?”
“He buttles of course,” Lillian replied with a straight face.
Hallie frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”
Lillian laughed. “Yes. You’re getting sharper. I’m going to have to watch myself. The butler brings snacks or even a meal if we want to eat in the cabin. If we want anything, he’ll get it for us. He unpacks, picks up after us, and keeps the place tidy, that sort of thing. He’s sort of a cabin steward. He’ll have a couple of other suites to look after as well. He won’t be under our feet if we don’t want him around. A cabin steward looks after a couple of dozen cabins; the butler will only look after maybe two or three at the most.”
“I see.” Leaving Lillian to wrestle with her nylons, Hallie checked the second bedroom. She bounced up and down on the bed. It appeared comfortable enough. She had a large window that looked out at the deep blue sea.
Back in the main room, she noted an area set aside as an office with computer, phone, and fax. There was a bar off the main door. The ship had set out several expensive bottles of liquor, displaying them on a silver tray, along with an ice bucket, to tempt you to open one and have a taste. A basket of fresh fruit sat at the end of the bar.
Hallie picked up a couple of the liquor bottles. The labels appeared to be expensive brands of the local rum.
She crossed the room and opened the sliding doors. Leaving the air-conditioned coolness behind her, she stepped quickly out on to the balcony where a blast of hot air covered her.
Lillian had said April in the Caribbean would be hot. She was right.
Hallie closed the doors behind her. There were a couple of comfortable padded lounge chairs and a small circular glass table on the balcony, arranged for maximum viewing of the dock area.
The sun beat down, hot and soothing on her shoulders and arms. She loved the heat and the feel of it on her body. That was one more thing she knew about herself.
She rested her arms on the balcony railing.
Down below a steel band with their drums played for passengers boarding the ship. They had been playing when she and Lillian came aboard. They were still playing for the embarking passengers.
There were three men; two were sitting on some sort of wooden stools, playing drums while the third played the large steel drum. They had a repertoire of about three songs which they played over and over again. Local children ran around the band, laughing and playing tag with each other.
Hallie felt an aching deep inside her body. She wondered again if she had children. She couldn’t believe that she would have a child somewhere and not remember. She might forget if she was married or engaged or even had a boyfriend--but a child--she’d know.
If Hallie didn’t have children, she knew she certainly wanted some. It was a strong feeling. It might not be remembering, but at least she was getting in touch with who her inner person was, building that new personality Lillian kept talking about.
She looked down at the fourth finger of her left hand. There appeared to be a faint mark there. It looked like she might have worn a ring on that finger. Maybe she was divorced or had been engaged, but broken it off for some reason. Or maybe someone had stolen her jewelry. Maybe she’d been mugged. There were many possibilities. Would she ever figure it out?
Hallie dropped into one of the chairs, tipping her face up to the sun. It felt good. She enjoyed the heat from the sun and the local music. She hitched her skirt up to the top of her thighs to allow the sun to hit most of her legs and closed her eyes.
A vague feeling of familiarity crept over her. She’d felt like this before; she was sure of it. It wasn’t aboard a ship though.
She could see a house, a large white house. It was kind of square with a large wraparound veranda. She was on the veranda with someone. It was warm and sunny there. The huge shade trees didn’t cover that area of the porch.
She remembered the feel of the sun on her skin. She was leaning against someone, maybe against their knees, enjoying the heat.
Hallie took long, slow breaths, allowing herself to drift with the memory. She was young, maybe six or seven. In the distance, she could hear a woman’s voice. It was soft and melodic. She looked around and could see a huge manicured green lawn and a circular driveway.
She turned toward the voice behind her expectantly, hoping to see the woman.
Poof, everything was gone. She was back on the ship, listening to the steel band. Hallie continued to lie quietly for a few minutes as she tried to sort out her feelings.
Was that a picture from my past? Or maybe I imagined it.