“That’s nature, all right,” Jude said. “How is Lorna? Is she in bed?”
“She was awake when I was in the shower. Let me go see if she’s up. She’ll be happy that you’ve stopped by.”
Roger ran up the stairs to the bedrooms on the upper level.
A minute later he came back downstairs, frowning.
“She’s not up there, but I never saw her go out.”
“Maybe she was feeling poorly and went back to the infirmary. Listen, I’ll head out and find her. I’ll keep in touch.”
“I should be looking for her, too,” Roger said worriedly.
“Why don’t you stay here? I’ll inform security and we’ll search for her. You wait here—be here if she comes back.”
Roger didn’t seem too pleased with that idea, but he agreed. “I’ll get some clothes on. I can at least keep watch out in the hallway.”
Jude nodded and pulled out the walkie-talkie to reach Jackson again. Jackson told him he’d alert Beach and his staff.
Jude went to the infirmary first, but she wasn’t there and hadn’t been in that morning.
When he left, there was a nurse standing outside. For a moment her appearance didn’t register with Jude; he was so focused on finding Lorna.
His heart was pounding. He didn’t like this one bit. A security man gone, disappeared.
And now...
Lorna Antrim was missing.
As the nurse approached him, his mind suddenly clicked into gear.
Dead. Dead nurse. Barbara Leon, from the historic infirmary that was no longer used in its old capacity but maintained as a museum.
“Agent!” Nurse Leon called to him.
“Miss Leon.”
“You’re looking for Mrs. Antrim?”
He didn’t understand how a ghost from a distant past could know that, but he didn’t ask.
“Yes.”
“Schooner Bar, just down the way,” she said, bustling forward to show him.
There weren’t many people out, although as of now, the shops, bars and the casino were still open.
Once Barbara Leon had led him to the Schooner, she simply faded away.
But she’d been right.
Lorna was seated at the bar, sipping a blue-colored drink.
Jude quickly called Jackson on his walkie-talkie to tell him she’d been found; Jackson said he’d get one of the security men to tell Roger.
“Hi,” Jude said, taking the chair beside hers. “If you’re still feeling seasick, that might not be the best thing for you at the moment.” He pointed to her glass.
She smiled at him. “Should be straight scotch, huh?”
“You’re feeling better?”
“I’m trying to feel like a man,” she said.
“A man?”
“I’m not all that seasick, I’ve discovered. I’m...old-age sick, heartsick and maybe even angry sick. So, I want to see what it’s like just to take off and drink—oh, and find a good-looking, unattached man about my age with whom I’d like to flirt.”
“Ah.” Jude couldn’t quite figure out what to say to that.
She studied him, an attractive woman, he thought, at any age. She had a great smile. “Mr. McCoy, a storm is raging. Who knows? We may not even make it back to port. Then again, this is my third drink. I suppose that’s why I’m speaking frankly to you. Besides,” she said, still studying him intently. “You seem like a tough man. I would’ve said law enforcement if I didn’t know you worked for the cruise line. But under that tough exterior, you’re damned decent. So, what the hell.”
She wasn’t making much sense, and yet he understood what she meant.
“You think your husband is cheating on you?”
“What I know is that he disappears a lot,” she said. “The day of the explosion, I was supposed to meet him at a bar in Cozumel—and I find him with a lovely woman. A woman from the ship. They were just talking...but how do I know what’s really going on?” She was quiet for a minute. “He went wandering while I was out shopping. We agreed to meet at the bar, so he knew I was coming. And he introduced me to her, of course. We all sat and chatted and...then there was the explosion. We weren’t at the restaurant, but we could see the chaos. Roger told us both to get safely back to the ship. He said he was going to see if he could help. Then he was gone. And when I finally found him again, it was on the ship. At a bar. With—with that same woman. Flora Winters.”
“It may not mean he’s cheating on you,” Jude said.
It may mean that he’s a killer, that he set the explosion.
But if so...why?
It bothered him not to have spoken to Capitan Suarez in nearly two days.
He didn’t know if they’d found anything in any of their churches!
“I realize that,” Lorna said, raising her glass to him. “May I buy you a drink, Mr. McCoy?”
“I’d love a glass of water.”
“Of course. You’re not the kind who’d drink on the job, are you?” she asked. “You want your attention completely focused.”
“I also happen to like water,” he told her, smiling.
So, her husband could have rigged the explosion at the restaurant. He hadn’t been with her; he might’ve been anywhere.
But he could just be a man with a wandering eye.
Or a nice guy being kind to someone else.
“Crazy, huh? Me drinking like this—and confiding in a stranger!” Lorna said.
“It’s all right. Sometimes it’s a good thing to talk to someone who isn’t involved.”
“I don’t even know what he’s doing right now,” she went on. “The cells aren’t working, and the computers are down. And I left the suite. Think he headed straight to her cabin, Mr. McCoy?”
“No, I just got in touch with my coworker, Jackson, a few minutes ago to ask him to call off security. Before that I was at your suite. Your husband’s worried.”
She lowered her head. “I’m grateful you were all worried about me,” she said. “Embarrassed, too. But...I’m actually glad that I gave Roger a few moments of worry. Now he’ll know how I feel,” she said softly.
“Want me to see you back to your cabin?”
“Sure,” she said. She set down her drink and stared at it. “I don’t even like these sugary things.”
“Shall we go?”
He hoped he wasn’t bringing her back to a serial killer—to the Archangel himself.
But even if Roger was the Archangel, statistically Lorna was safe.
Most serial killers didn’t strike at or near home. They used their standing as family men and good neighbors to protect their secret identities.
Besides, at this point Jude had no reason—and certainly no actual evidence—to think that Roger was the Archangel.
He offered Lorna an arm; she took it with a smile. “Well, I am feeling a bit wobbly. And the ship is...well, quite wobbly, too.”
He escorted her from the bar, to the elevator and up to her suite.
Roger was waiting anxiously in the hallway. “Lorna!” he said, rushing forward to embrace her. “Oh, my God, I was so worried!”
“Were you really?” she asked, pulling back to study his face.
“I was scared silly. You just—you just disappeared!”
“I went out for a drink.”
“But you always tell me when you’re going somewhere!”
“But you don’t always tell me.”
He drew her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice.
Jude slipped quietly away.
It might have been an act.
If so, it was a damned good one.
One way to find out; he would pay a visit to Roger’s friend, Mrs. Flora Winters, in cabin nu
mber 615.
12
Bingo was over.
There was, as yet, no sign of Jude.
But as the winners came forward and giddily collected their certificates, she and Clara sat at one of the rear tables in the now-empty back room, exhausted.
This was her chance to talk to Jensen Hardy.
After he’d thanked her and Clara, she found her opening. “It’s okay. I don’t know if we’ll be working tonight.”
“Right now you’re on the entertainment schedule, but that may change. Probably will change. We’re still just staying put, waiting on forecasts. But I happen to believe the captain suspects more than he’s telling us. Tropical storm Dinah was upgraded to Hurricane Dinah over Cozumel. They thought she’d advance to the Gulf, so they ordered us to sail ‘cautiously’ south. Now Dinah’s changing her mind.”
“What makes you think that?”
“We haven’t been ordered to any port,” he said. “If they’d had a good handle on the storm, they’d have gotten us out of harm’s way by now. Maybe they should’ve taken a chance! Everybody figured Dinah had to move. Instead, she pummeled Cozumel!”
“So...?” Clara asked slowly.
“In another few hours, I bet Captain Thorne will announce that we’re closing down all our entertainment facilities. He’ll have to tell everyone what’s going on. But we’re trying to maintain calm and in my opinion we’ve done it really well!” he said.
“You’re very good at what you do,” Alexi told him sweetly.
He smiled, and she realized that he did look at her as if...as if he wished they were more than friends.
“Thanks,” he said huskily. He reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. “And we’re going to be fine,” he insisted.
She drew back, trying not to appear obvious about it.
Fortunately, Clara interrupted whatever Jensen had been about to say next. “Alexi and I aren’t afraid of the storm,” she said quickly.
Alexi laughed. “I do miss my computer, though! I started playing around on one of those ancestry sites. My dad was a vet, and both my grandfathers were in World War II. I was trying to find out more about them.”
“Too bad the computers are down. Makes people anxious. And bored. That’s why we have to keep them entertained. As long as it’s safe for us,” Jensen said.
“I want to do more research on my ancestors, too,” Clara said. “I know one of my grandfathers was in World War II. Oh, and it was sad. He was my mom’s father. His parents were Italian, so he was second-generation American. The army sent him to fight in Italy because he knew the language. He’d been born in the States, but his first language was Italian.”
“Where was the family from?” Alexi asked.
“Rome, I believe,” Clara replied.
“I think I had ancestors who were Italian, too—on my mom’s side. I haven’t gotten that far yet. I think they lived somewhere near the Vatican. My folks loved to travel to Italy. And rosaries! My mom had a huge thing for rosaries. She brought them back all the time and, of course, when I went to Italy, I brought her a rosary.”
“Catholic, huh?” Jensen said.
“Much of my family,” Alexi said. Everything she’d told him was the truth.
She hadn’t been completely open with Clara, but Clara seemed to know exactly where she wanted to go with Jensen.
“How about your family?” she asked him.
“What? Pardon?” he said. “You mean, religion?”
She shook her head. “Alexi was saying that her family had liked collecting rosaries. With my mom, it was those miniature religious paintings—of the Virgin Mary and the Christ Child and so on. What about your family? Did they do anything like that?”
“My...my parents weren’t big travelers.”
“They must’ve gone somewhere!” Clara said.
“They went to France a few times. And they brought me back those T-shirts that say things like ‘My dad went to Paris and all I got was this lousy T-shirt!’”
Alexi actually managed to laugh at that.
“Parents and grandparents didn’t have to travel to give us interesting presents,” Clara said next. “When I was a teenager, my father gave me a collection of foreign coins.”
“I was given my mom’s doll collection,” Alexi said. “She had a Shirley Temple doll, for one. It’s made out of porcelain. I love it.”
Clara smiled. “I’ll bet she’s worth a bundle now.”
“I’d never sell her, unless I was down to desperate,” Alexi said.
“I can’t imagine either of you being down to desperate,” Jensen told them. “You’re both so talented.”
“Thanks,” Alexi murmured.
“You’re making us feel good,” Clara added.
“Nothing but the truth, ladies. Nothing but the truth.”
“Well, thanks, Jensen.” Clara paused for a few seconds. “What about you? Did you ever get anything really cool from your family?” Clara asked.
Jensen grinned. “Yeah, T-shirts! Like I said.” He frowned, staring at the large carved doors that led into the ballroom.
Alexi’s back was to the door. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
He shrugged in response. “Besides being trapped in an old ocean liner while a major storm sweeps in? No. There’s just some guy who keeps looking in here.”
“Someone you don’t know?” Alexi asked. “I mean, you know almost all the crew and performers on the ship.”
“I can’t see him properly. I keep wanting to tell him to come in, but he’s always gone before I can do that.” Jensen shrugged again. “I’m going to have to get ready for Name that Tune,” he told them. “You two helping with that, as well?”
Where the hell was Jude?
“I guess we’ll go wherever the big bosses tell us to,” she said.
She turned toward the door.
Someone had been standing there, someone who managed to be a fleeting shadow every time they tried to see who it was.
“That’s it!” she said, hurrying toward the door—where she saw her friend, security officer Johnny Morgan. He’d also been there when she’d chased after Jude, before she’d realized just who Jude and Jackson were.
The night she’d tried to catch Jude—to tell him he was trying to catch a ghost.
“Johnny!” she said.
“I’m on guard duty, assigned to you and Clara. I’m just trying to keep an eye on you.”
“We appreciate that, Johnny! Why don’t you come in?”
“Best that I don’t. I’m just watching over you, and I’m not twenty feet away, if you need me for any reason at all.”
“Thanks, again. You haven’t seen Jude McCoy or Jackson Crow, have you?”
“Not recently. And all I know is that I’m not to leave you or Clara.” It looked as if she and Clara were going to be playing Name that Tune!
And so far, she’d gotten nowhere. Guilty or not, Jensen Hardy wasn’t interested in holy relics. He apparently hadn’t received any as presents.
He’d gotten nothing but T-shirts.
Unless he was a better liar than he seemed.
* * *
Flora Winters of cabin number 615 answered her door after Jude’s second knock.
She was an attractive woman, nearly as fit as Lorna Antrim. Unlike Lorna, though, she’d clearly had work done and from a distance might look even younger.
Up close...Jude observed that her expression seemed a little pinched.
But she had an appealing smile and didn’t behave as if she was concerned about opening the door.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
He introduced himself, using his current “identity.” “I’m Jude McCoy, Ms. Winters, with Celtic American lines.”
“Nice to meet you, sir.”
“We’re trying to speak with all our passengers. To apologize for the weather—not that we can do anything about it! And to say that we’re doing the best we can to make everything as easy as possible.”
“I haven’t been too disturbed by it yet, Mr. McCoy. I was in the service—with the United States Navy—way back when. I’ve been on a few rough voyages.”
“Really? Well, thank you for your service to our country.”
“Hard to say it was always a pleasure, but I’m glad I did my duty,” she said. “What about you? Were you ever in the military?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he told her.
She nodded approvingly. “Not that it’s for everyone—and I’m so glad the days of the draft are gone! But for those who choose to serve, it’s a very good thing. Were you navy?”
“No, ma’am. Marines.”
“Commendable!” she said. “Well...do you want to come in? This may not be the grandest suite, but it’s comfy and I do have a coffeemaker.”
“Actually, that would be great. Trying to keep people calm during storm conditions isn’t easy,” Jude said.
Not that he’d really kept anyone calm.
“I can imagine. How do you like your coffee?”
“Black is fine,” he told her.
Her suite wasn’t as sumptuous and elegant as Roger and Lorna’s; it was, however, quite elegant. She had a little living room and a mini-kitchen with a coffeepot/wet bar/refrigerator area. The place also featured a small sofa and dining table. He sat down on the sofa.
“What’s the latest news on our girl?” Flora asked as she prepared his coffee.
“Our girl? Which girl?”
“The storm. Dinah.”
“Oh, that girl. Well, they’re keeping pretty quiet,” Jude said. “So far, Dinah’s ignoring all the cones of probability the meteorologists have made for her. Basically, she isn’t moving. She’s done this back-and-forth thing just outside Cozumel.”
Flora seemed amused as she brought him a cup of coffee and sat beside him on the sofa. “They’re keeping quiet?” she repeated. “Who are they? Aren’t you in the upper echelon of the company?”
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