by Hanson, Lee
The elevator door opened and they stepped in.
The non-stop glass elevator deposited them on the Promenade at eleven-fifteen. With the exception of Barrister’s Pub and Starbucks, everything seemed to be closed. Music from the pub echoed through the Mall-like atrium, an upright piano with tipsy patrons singing-along. Although neither of them mentioned it, both Julie and Joe checked out the small crowd as they passed. Unsurprisingly, Dale Simpson was not part of the merry group.
By the time they got off the elevator on Deck 10, having walked the length of the ship from back to front, Julie was starting to feel woozy. Due to the high seas, the Mystral was rolling some and the movement was making her seasick. Oddly, she hadn’t felt it when they were dancing. With the music and all, I was having too much fun to notice it. She was closing her eyes and clinging to the railing that lined the narrow corridor as they made their way to number 1272.
Joe was concerned as he opened the door. “You okay, babe?”
“Yeah, but I’m really dizzy. I need to lie down.”
Miguel, wisely, had closed the balcony drapes. As usual, the mini-suite was inviting, with low lights, soft music, and the bed turned down for the evening.
Julie took off her earrings and dropped them on the bar. She slipped off her strappy heels and was fumbling with the side zipper on her dress.
“Here, let me help you,” Joe said. Making no moves she might interpret as sexual, he unzipped her dress and unhooked her bra. While he hung up the dress, Julie, who always slept naked, stepped out of her panties and crawled into the bed like someone who had just crossed a desert and found an oasis.
Joe turned off the lights and the music, stripped and got into bed. He put his arm around her and lightly touched his lips to her shoulder. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered.
In a little while she murmured, “I love you, Joe.”
“I love you, too,” he said, as the Mystral rocked them to sleep.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 35
Adrienne drifted above the huge ship, unable to feel the earthbound whirlwind that caused the Mystral to dip and rock as it moved upon the water. It would not be long, she knew, before the ship would reach its turn-around point, the land-place where it would deposit the ones connected to her. They would go in different directions to finish out their lives. When the last life was complete, Adrienne’s account would be balanced and she could move on.
That would be many Earth years.
The powerful longing to be free of the Mystral right now was difficult to control. She wanted to speak to her surrogate, to direct her. A voice tried to tempt her; it said those things were possible, that she could even possess Julie O’Hara if she chose to. But Adrienne knew in her soul that those who crossed that line were doomed to roam the sea forever.
She’d been given a gift. There was a chance that she might gain her freedom very soon. It all rested with her surrogate, with her ability to reconcile Adrienne’s relationships and resolve the error of her untimely passing.
Adrienne would restrain herself; she would trust her surrogate.
But there was so little time…
* * * * *
F R I D A Y
~
CHAPTER 36
Joe awoke at six-forty-five; the Mystral was still rolling and he could still hear the muted sound of the wind howling outside. Shit. It’s going to be another lousy day. To prove it to himself, he opened the drapes a little and looked out. Big swells topped with white stretched all the way to the horizon, a barely discernible line between shades of gray.
He wondered if Starbucks had donuts. Julie loves donuts. He looked over at her. She was lying on her left side, the blanket clutched at her neck, her right foot hanging over the side of the bed. He looked at her toes. They were beautiful and sported a pale, iridescent pink polish. He smiled. “Resort Pearl” was the name of the color. He remembered the night he’d painted her nails while she sat in a chair in a black lacy bikini. The polish was supposed to “speed dry”, but it wasn’t fast enough. He’d wrecked her panties and her pedicure.
He looked down at the morning flagpole. Forget it, you beast. He turned and went into the bathroom. A couple minutes later, his teeth brushed and hair combed, he pulled on his jeans and a charcoal tee shirt and quietly let himself out.
Their ever-present cabin steward was two doors down. “Good morning, Mr. Garrett,” he said softly.
“Good morning, Miguel. Is Starbucks open, do you know?”
“Yes, I believe it is, but they have coffee and pastries in the Central Lobby outside the Internet Café. The mid-ship elevator will let you off right there.”
“Oh, that’s great. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Have a good day.”
“You, too.”
Joe headed off to his left. It was a long walk down a corridor of nothing but cabin doors to get to the mid-ship elevators. They had never used them because their stateroom was so close to the forward elevators and because the mid-ship ones only went up as far as Deck 10. He supposed they’d have to go this way for lunch. They could take the stairs up to the indoor side of the Horizons cafeteria on the Lido Deck.
Just ahead of him, Dale Simpson stepped out of his cabin. He looked horrible, almost like he’d slept in his clothes.
“Morning, Dale.”
“Oh, hi,” he said. “Good morning.”
They turned the corner to the elevators. Joe pushed the button and the elevator door slid open right away. They stepped in and Joe pushed Deck 4.
“You headed down for coffee?”
“Uh, huh. You?”
“Yeah,” Joe said. “Thought I’d bring some back to Julie. Tough night.”
“You can say that again. My head’s killing me. I used to be able to drink; not anymore. I went to bed with a headache and woke up with the same damn headache.”
You’re lucky, Joe thought. You’re in trouble when you feel so shitty all the time you don’t know the difference anymore.
The door slid open and they got off. Directly opposite, a long table was set up with coffee, tea, orange juice and…God bless all things American…donuts. Joe began fixing two large coffees, setting them into two corners of a cardboard tray; then he selected four donuts and put them in the center. He was putting lids on the coffee when he glanced over at Dale. In spite of the coolness of the lobby, the man had beads of sweat on his forehead.
“Dale, you don’t look too good. Maybe you should go see Dr. Sinclair.”
Dale laughed. “I don’t think so. That’s all I need! She killed someone, you know.”
Joe almost spilled the coffee. “What? Where?”
He scratched his head. “In Maine, I think. No shit, she gave this broad the wrong medicine and she died. Why do you think she’s working for peanuts on a ship?”
“How could they hire someone with that background?”
“Cruise ships like US doctors. Passengers like US doctors.”
“Geez. You think the Captain knows?”
“It sure doesn’t look like it,” he said with a smirk. “Nah, he wouldn’t have anything to do with vetting her. The medical staff is independent.”
Joe had just tripped over a gold nugget.
“Hey, Dale, I’ve got to get back before Julie wakes up. Take care of yourself. Drink a lot of water; it’ll help with that headache. The coffee will, too.”
Dale raised his coffee cup. “Thanks, Joe. I will. See you later.”
Damn, Joe thought, as he hurried back to their stateroom.
***
Julie was towel drying her hair when she heard Joe opening the cabin door. She smiled from ear to ear when she saw the tray. “Hi! I was hoping that’s where you went!”
“I brought you everything you like and more,” Joe said. “How are you feeling?”
“You are so sweet,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “I’m much better, thanks. Just to be on the safe side, though, I took some Dramamine.” She looked at the donuts
. “Is that chocolate glazed? Can I have it?”
“Of course. I got that one for you. Here, take your coffee, one sugar and half n’ half.” He handed it to her and they sat down around the coffee table. “Wait ‘til you hear what I just found out from Dale Simpson,” Joe said, munching on a jelly donut.
“What?”
“He said that Dr. Sinclair has a shady background, seriously shady. He said she caused some woman’s death by giving her the wrong medicine.”
Julie was wide-eyed. “How is she still working here?”
“Not here. It happened back in the States, in Maine. Apparently, cruise ship passengers like American doctors, so the company that staffs the Medical Center hired her. I don’t think Captain Collier or HCL know anything about it,” he said, reaching for another donut. “Anyway, the important thing is, if Dale knows about it, you can bet Adrienne did. She could have been blackmailing the doctor.”
Julie sat back, sipping her coffee and thinking.
“Not for money, that’s for sure. Adrienne was a control-freak, though. She may have used it to manipulate Michelle Sinclair in some way. Was she threatening to tell Captain Collier? Doctor Sinclair has access to scopolamine, too! She could have drugged Adrienne somehow during dinner…the wine…the food…I don’t know, somehow.”
“I’ve got a problem imagining a woman tossing her overboard, Merlin.”
“I don’t! Michelle Sinclair is tall and fit. Adrienne was a head shorter than her, not even five-feet tall, and she was small-boned, like a child. If Adrienne was stoned, how hard would it be to boost her over?” She reached for the phone.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ve been sick. I’m making an appointment with the doctor.”
* * * * *
CHAPTER 37
It was twenty minutes of eleven and the waiting room in the Medical Center was full to overflowing, most folks standing in line in front of a small sign set on the counter.
Are You Seasick?
Let Us Help You Here.
No wonder I couldn’t get an appointment. Julie had come later, hoping to arrange a lunch meeting with Michelle Sinclair, but she hadn’t considered how many passengers were sick from the stormy weather and the ship’s constant rolling. How am I going to get any face-to-face time with her? As she was mulling it over, Dr. Sinclair stepped into the room, looking for a particular patient.
“Irene Serrano?”
A young woman with a splint on her finger stood up from a chair. Without giving it anymore thought, Julie beat her to it. She moved into Michelle’s space, looked straight in her eyes and said in a low voice:
“Dr. Sinclair, I have to talk to you about something that happened in Maine. Something very confidential.”
Clearly shaken, Michelle Sinclair blinked her eyes as if in doing so, Julie would disappear. But Julie stood her ground, separating the doctor and her patient. “Excuse me, Ms. Serrano,” she said, resigned to the situation. “I’ll be right back.”
With admirable control, Michelle Sinclair calmly led the way out of the Medical Center with Julie on her heels. As soon as they were out of anyone’s earshot, she whirled around, eyes ablaze. “What exactly do you want from me?”
Julie knew the value of putting on a confident front. She returned the stare, pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “I know about Maine. I know about you and Captain Collier. I know you hated Adrienne. You can talk to me right now, or you can talk to Clyde Williams in Security.”
It was a gamble, since Julie knew next to nothing about anything. One thing she did know: the first one of them to break eye contact would lose…
“I can’t do this now,” Michelle said angrily. “You saw the crowd in there.”
“Of course you can,” Julie said firmly. “You’re the boss.”
They glared at each other for a moment. Finally, the doctor closed her eyes, dropped her shoulders and sighed. “All right,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the Odyssey in fifteen minutes.”
Julie didn’t exhale until the woman was gone…and then she sagged, amazed at her own audacity. There’s not enough time to go back to the stateroom, she thought as she hurried to the elevator. She got off at Deck 4 and called Joe from the lobby, keeping her voice low:
“Joe, I did it. Michelle Sinclair is meeting me in the Odyssey Lounge in a few minutes. I can’t believe I got her to meet me! The Medical Center was jammed; I think half the people on the ship are sick. Thank God I took my medicine. ”
“You want me to come?”
“No. She hates my guts right now, but woman-to-woman is best. I don’t know how long I’m going to be, but I’ve got a feeling this is going to be some story.”
“All right. Don’t drink anything, not even a glass of water!”
“Don’t worry. The bar doesn’t open ‘til noon. I think that’s why she picked it. It’s a big place and fairly dark; we can sit out of sight there.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?”
“Oh, I think so. What could she possibly do? The whole front of that lounge is open to the main walkway and the Photo Gallery. Passengers are strolling by all the time and she’s in uniform, very recognizable. Look, she wants to allay my suspicion, that’s all. She figures all she has to do is keep me quiet for one more day. She plans to give me her best pitch…and I certainly want to hear it.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for you here. I’m going to try to get Janet, see what she’s found out about Sinclair. If she’s got anything, we can see how it squares with the doc’s story.”
“Okay. See you in a while,” she said, hanging up.
Julie crossed the lobby and headed toward the front of the ship. She could see the Photo Gallery up ahead, busy with passengers hunting through the photo displays for their formal pictures taken the night before.
As she walked along, she tried to ignore the dark, violent storm raging outside the windows. It was impossible, like trying not to look at a bus full of people teetering on the edge of a bridge.
Happy, oblivious people, looking for their pictures.
Julie shivered at the unwelcome connection and quickly turned into the Odyssey, weaving her way through the club chairs and cocktail tables that filled the shadowy interior. The only lights left on in the lounge were recessed in the ceiling, casting a small pool of light on each of the curved booths that lined the walls. Julie slipped into one on the far right, positioning herself so that she would see Michelle Sinclair when she arrived.
She didn’t have long to wait. The doctor showed up almost immediately, caught sight of Julie and slid in opposite her. “All right, I’m here,” she said, angrily. “What do you want to know?”
“I’d like to hear your side of what happened in Maine.”
“Why is that any of your business?”
“Look, Michelle,” Julie said firmly, “you decided to tell me your side of things to keep me from talking to Clyde Williams, so let’s not waste our time here.”
Michelle slumped, her head in her hands.
“Oh, God, is this never going to be over?”
She sat up, inhaled deeply and willed herself to go on. “Obviously, you know what happened five years ago. What you don’t know is how I came to work under an arrogant bastard like Dr. Jonas Howland in the first place.”
“Start any place you like,” Julie said, as if she knew who Dr. Howland was.
“I was raised by my aunt, Cecile. It’s no exaggeration to say that she hated me.”
Julie was taken aback. She was sitting across from a beautiful, mature woman whose face had suddenly transformed into the blank, unloved hopelessness of an abused child.
“I was a duty, a burden,” Michelle said, “and Cecile never let me forget it. She was a widow and she must have done something awful to her husband, because she paid for my college and medical school as if she was clearing some terrible debt. She stopped supporting me when I graduated and I never saw her again, although I heard she passed away some time after that.”
“I trained at Monroe Regional Hospital in Bangor. Only a doctor could appreciate what that first year of residency was like! I worked crazy hours, sleeping in the hospital for days at a time. When the year was up, I was exhausted, broke and had nowhere to go.
“Then Dr. Howland, who had visited Monroe Regional a month before, called and offered me an extended residency at St. Simon’s General Hospital in Portland. He said he would supervise me on a two-year specialist track in Internal Medicine, and that my hours and my salary would be significantly better. It seems so naïve now, but I was overcome with gratitude. I couldn’t imagine that someone thought I was worthy.
“I was a fool, of course. His offer had nothing to do with my record as a doctor. I’m not proud of it, but I gave him what he wanted. I didn’t love Jonas Howland, but I did love Internal Medicine and I didn’t want to lose my position. To understand what happened, you have to understand Jonas. He was accustomed to reverence, to always being right. He misdiagnosed Anne Dunston, plain and simple. It was his fault, but he would never admit it.”
“So what happened?”
“Mrs. Dunston was admitted in the emergency room and turned over to me, under Jonas’ supervision. She was seventy and had previously been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, but the only medication she was taking was Coumadin for Leiden Factor Five.”
“Wait,” Julie said, “I know Coumadin is a blood thinner; what’s the other term?”
“Leiden Factor Five is a genetic variant that causes clotting, but that’s not why she came in. Her complaint was that she hurt all over and she had a headache. She was running a very low fever and she had a brace on her leg. She said she’d fallen recently and twisted her ankle.
“It was the ‘fall’ and the ‘Fibromyalgia’ in her record that threw everyone off, including the unimpeachable Dr. Howland. We had her leg and her spine x-rayed, and had a cardiologist check her heart. Fine, fine and fine. We ordered a complete blood work-up and there was nothing remarkable except for an elevated SED rate.”