****
Dani tuned out the yacht broker's voice as he droned on about all of the hand-built custom cabinetry. She would have been happy to explore Best of Times on her own, but she knew the broker had to do his job. Best of Times was a replica of Herreshoff's famous Bounty, just as she thought when she saw the boat yesterday. As the tanned, carefully groomed fool yammered away, she methodically crawled through every space on the vessel, examining everything for traces of poor materials or shoddy workmanship. As she expected with a vessel of this quality, everything she found spoke to her of meticulous care in construction and maintenance. This particular execution of Herreshoff's beautiful design was as flawless as the design itself.
Best of Times was a seaman's dream, custom-built for a life-long cruising sailor from Maine whose health had failed him soon after he and his family brought her to Antigua on her shakedown cruise. They had planned to circumnavigate, but it was not to be. Now his widow was eager to dispose of the boat and put the sad memories behind her. It was eerie to open the lockers and find the couple's clothing and personal belongings neatly stowed, but the broker said that the woman was utterly devastated, and wanted nothing to remind her of their broken dream. Everything aboard would transfer to her new owner.
Dani had started her inspection with a trip up the mast, much to the broker's surprise. He had been expounding the benefits of the gourmet galley as they walked down the dock toward the boat.
"Wait until you see the stove, Sweetie," he had said, a smirk on his face. Dani was surprised that he hadn't asked her any qualifying questions to see if she was a serious prospect. She sensed that he was just idle and bored, and that he had decided to amuse himself by showing the boat to her. He certainly wasn't treating her the way he would if he thought that she was capable of making a purchase.
He was already opening lockers in the galley, nattering away about the Wedgwood china, when he looked around and discovered that she had not followed him below decks. When he finally spotted her, she was scrambling up the mast like a monkey going up a coconut tree.
"Wait!" he said. "I'll get a rigger over for a rig survey. You don't have to do that."
"Rigger's not going to buy the boat," Dani grunted over her shoulder, continuing to climb. "I might, but I'll make my own judgments. I'm the one that'll live with 'em."
The broker watched, worry etched on his face, as she scrambled around, free-climbing through the rigging over 70 feet above the deck. He fidgeted nervously for several minutes until she said, "Looks good aloft. Stand clear of that backstay, will you? I'm coming down."
He stepped aside slightly, a puzzled look on his face as he watched her take a handful of rags from her pocket and wrap them around the sloping piece of stainless steel cable that ran from the masthead to the stern. He watched, open-mouthed, as she swung her feet off the fittings that she was braced on near the masthead, and before he grasped her intentions, she locked her ankles around the backstay and was sliding toward him at a frightful speed. A few meters above the deck, she let her legs swing down and tightened her grip on the handful of rags, braking her descent to land softly beside the stunned broker as he stumbled out of her way. The rags were smoking a bit as she dropped them to the deck.
"Wha-, wha-, what would you like to see next, C- captain?"
"Oh, let’s have a look at that china you're so taken with, sweetie," Dani said, with her best poker face.
After spending several hours scrutinizing Best of Times, Dani was still impressed with the boat.
"She's asking a million, even," the broker said.
"She might get that. Good boat, in great shape. She'll have to wait a while, though. Too late for this year's season, and besides, the boat's in Antigua."
"So make an offer. What would you give her, for a deal today, delivery here?"
"Same as I'd pay for a deal next week, I expect," Dani said, watching him wince, not offering him any hope. "Look. It's a nice boat. I may make an offer, but I need to think it over."
"I've got someone else interested."
"Good. Maybe they'll like that Wedgwood as much as you do. I'll call you either way when I decide," Dani said, climbing into the cockpit and hopping over the rail, catlike, to land on the dock.
She went back to Kayak Spirit and spent the rest of the afternoon pondering her future as she measured the settee cushions. She planned to go shopping the next morning to find some fabric to make covers for them. She had in mind something that would be in character with Kayak Spirit's Caribbean origins -- bright colors, soft texture. The battered vinyl had probably been in place since the former owner had used the sturdy old boat for smuggling jackiron rum from Grenada to the French islands, many years ago.
Chapter 5
Liz finally had it right. After endless false starts, she had captured the essence of Sea Serpent's graceful lines on her sketchpad. Excited, she transferred the sketch to a prepared canvas, and she was blocking in the color. Using acrylics, she was working quickly, and she had a quite recognizable likeness of the beautiful old boat, charging along under full sail. Even the tiny mizzen sail was clearly drawing as the spray went flying. She was thoroughly enjoying herself as the boat took shape before her eyes. When she was painting and finally hit her stride, it was like magic. She was not even conscious of her skillful technique -- she simply thought, and the image materialized.
She was dimly aware that Suzanne was working with a customer, but it was no effort for her to stay focused on her painting -- not when she was in the zone. She finally paused to mix another color and change brushes. She realized that someone was looking over her shoulder, quietly, and from a respectful distance.
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled, and then drew a quick breath as she realized that the woman behind her could be her twin. Well, maybe not her twin, but certainly a close relative. They were the same size and build, and shared the same coloring, except this woman had piercing blue eyes instead of her own emerald green ones.
Recognizing that she had Liz's attention, the woman offered a smile. "Sorry. I hope I didn't break your concentration."
"American," Liz thought. The accent gave it away. "Not at all, I didn't even know you were there until I came to a stopping place."
"A Concordia yawl, isn't she," Dani said, her eyes on the canvas.
"Yes, she is. You have a very good eye. Not many people our age have even seen one. You must love boats."
"You might say that. I actually sailed aboard one recently."
"A Concordia?" Liz asked. "How coincidental. So did I. In the islands?"
"Yes, down south," Dani said, noticing as the woman stood and turned to face her that they bore a strong resemblance to one another. "You know one hit the reef here not long ago?"
"I certainly do. I was aboard when it happened."
"The Concordia?" Dani asked. "You were aboard Sea Serpent?"
"Yes. You know her name, even."
"You are Liesbet Chirac!"
"I am. How do you know this? The news? I didn't think anyone would hear."
Dani was stunned. She didn't hear Liz's question. "You survived."
"Until now, anyway. Who are you, please?" Liz extended a hand and offered a quizzical smile.
"Dani. Dani Berger," Dani replied, staring into space as she took Liz's hand. "You were with Mike Reilly. We thought you were dead."
Now Liz was the one who was stunned. She was back in Deshaies, Guadeloupe, as she and Mike were securing their customs clearance to depart for Antigua. Dani was one of the names that Mike had called her when he was in his trance-like states, and Dani was the girl that the man who handled their clearance had mentioned was looking for Mike earlier that very day. "Dani, a French girl," the man had said, and he had told Mike that Dani had shown him a picture of herself with Mike. Mike had been visibly upset.
"But, I thought you were French," Liz blurted.
"I am. Why?"
"You sound American."
"Yes, I know. That's a long story. Pe
rhaps we should go and have a little lunch. We seem to have bit to talk about."
"All right, yes, of course," Liz said, catching Suzanne's eye.
Suzanne smiled and nodded. "Take your time, Liz. There are no cruise ships today. Dani, I'll just wrap your six yards of batik and hold it until you two come back."
"Sure. Thanks," Dani said absently, shaking her head, as Liz put her brush in a jar of water and wiped her hands.
They walked down a few doors from the gallery and took a table at the open-air Italian restaurant, ordering iced tea to sip until they were ready to look at the menu.
"Since I obviously took you by surprise, Liesbet, I'll tell my story first."
"Please. You certainly have my attention," Liz said, savoring the aroma of the freshly bruised mint leaves floating in her tea glass. She leaned back in her chair, waiting for Dani to begin. "And call me Liz. All of my friends do."
"Okay, Liz. Let's see, where do I begin…" Dani put her elbows on the table, taking a sip of tea as she collected her thoughts. "I was crewing on a private British yacht for most of the past year. The owner was the skipper, and his wife and two children were aboard. He didn't know much about boats or women, though he fancied himself an expert in both. He was a bit overbearing, but he seemed harmless enough at first. We brought the boat over from the Canaries a few months ago after a season in the Med, and we laid her up here in Antigua for the summer. When they were ready to cruise the islands, I flew back and met them. Ramblin' Gal was a great boat -- 62-foot aluminum schooner. Anyhow, we were working our way south, and they were sightseeing when it struck their fancy. He made it plain every time that I was alone with him that he wanted sex; it was part of my job, I guess. I managed to keep putting him off, but he got more insistent. Finally, one day down in Mayreau a few weeks ago, they left me aboard with the kids and went ashore for a fancy lunch to celebrate their wedding anniversary, of all things.
"I scoped out the other boats in the anchorage, and Sea Serpent caught my eye. I swam over and introduced myself to Mike Reilly and found out he was single-handing to the Virgin Islands and wanted crew, so I packed my bag and joined him while the jerk from Ramblin' Gal was still at lunch. Reilly and I got on all right for a couple of days, and we had just set out on a two-day passage from Mayreau up to Martinique. I came on watch to relieve him the first night, and he was out of his mind. I don't know if he was on drugs, or what, but he cracked me on the head with a winch handle. Took me completely unawares, and I went overboard. Good thing I had on an automatic inflatable vest. I was unconscious in the water, and I guess these smugglers picked me up and sold me to some guy in the white slavery game. I only know this from the men who rescued me. I was in a coma most of the time. My parents got worried because I missed calling home on my mother's birthday, and my father got one of his friends who lives in Martinique to look for me.
"He eventually found me, and then we took off chasing Mike Reilly and Sea Serpent up the island chain. One of the guys who helped rescue me was, like, a U. S. Marshal or something, and he had an arrest warrant for Reilly. Me, I just wanted a few minutes alone with the son of a bitch, just to get even, you know." Dani paused and took another sip of tea.
Liz, wide-eyed and sitting on the edge of her chair, now, nodded for Dani to continue.
"Well, Phillip, my father's friend… we were on his boat, chasing Sea Serpent. Anyway, Phillip has a lot of government contacts in the islands from before he retired, and he learned that Mike had picked up a girl from Martinique. She spent a few days with him. Michelle something. Then she was found dead, floating off a beach in Dominica with a broken neck, and we learned that you had joined Mike in Marie Galante. We couldn't figure out a good way to find Sea Serpent in Guadeloupe, but we knew Reilly was headed for Antigua, so we came here to wait, planning to intercept him and arrest him. We had no sooner cleared in at Jolly Harbour than we heard about the wreck. Phillip and the marshal went home, and I'm in English Harbour on Phillip's boat, doing a few repairs to stay busy while I figure out what to do next. I went to Suzanne's to buy fabric to re-cover the cushions in the saloon, and saw your painting of Sea Serpent." Dani sat back and picked up her tea, taking a long swallow as she gazed into space. When she put her glass down, she fixed her eyes on Liz, and said, "Your turn, now."
"Yes," Liz said, shaking her head in amazement. "Yes, I guess so. I had no idea that Mike was dangerous. I could tell he was a bit strange, though. He was quite charming when we met in Marie Galante, and I fell completely in love with Sea Serpent. We spent some time day-sailing, getting to know one another. He couldn't really sail the boat, because he had these awful cuts on his arms, and he was going to the clinic there for care. A fishing accident of some sort, he said. I did most of the sailing. Wonderful old boat. By the time he was well enough to leave, we had decided that I would sail with him to Antigua. He had quite a crush on me, by then, but it was odd. I originally hit on him, just looking for a bit of a fling, you know, and he acted interested. But there was never anything physical between us, even though I did everything but 'jump his bones,' as the Americans say. He kept on about wanting me to promise to stay with him forever, to promise not to leave him. It put me off after a while, actually, and I was glad we never made it.
"Once he had the stitches out of his arms, we left Marie Galante and spent some time in the Saintes and Pointe-à-Pitre. He would go into a sort of trance every so often and talk to himself when he didn't know I was around. Sometimes, usually during or right after one of those spells, he would look at me as if he didn't know me, and he would call me Dani, or sometimes Michelle, or Michie. I asked him who they were, but he couldn't seem to answer. I was a bit uncomfortable, but I didn't ever feel threatened. When we got to Deshaies and went in to clear customs at the Internet café for our trip to Antigua, the attendant there asked Mike if "Dani" had found him. He went on to tell Mike about this French girl, Dani, who had a photograph of herself with Mike. That's why I thought you were French, you see. Well, that really upset Mike, for some reason. We left that night for Antigua. He was exhausted, so I sailed for about the first six hours, until he relieved me. We were in clear sight of the lights on Antigua by then. As I was falling asleep, I noticed the wind had died, and I heard him start the diesel. The next thing I knew, we hit the reef. I woke up in the main cabin as it was flooding, and stayed on the reef with the wreckage until slack tide, when I managed to swim to the beach. Suzanne and I are friends from university days, so I'm spending a little time with her and her husband."
"Mmm," Dani said, and they both sat quietly, thinking and studying the menu. The waitress, who had courteously waited for their signal, brought more tea and took their lunch order. As they ate, they discussed more pleasant things and discovered a number of common interests. Both had graduate degrees in finance, and had worked in their field long enough to learn that they were good at it but detested it. Both had grown up sailing and shared an enduring passion for boats and open water, and both were bilingual in English and French. Liz was from Belgium, and spoke flawless English with a slight British accent, while Dani was often mistaken for an American, as much because of her manner as because of her accent when she spoke English. Finishing lunch after a very European two and a half hours, they walked back to the gallery where Dani picked up her fabric and Liz resumed her painting. She had a different feeling about Sea Serpent now.
****
Back aboard Kayak Spirit, Dani spread the fabric over one of the settees and studied the effect. She found it quite pleasing; it brought the space to life, much more than a solid-colored vinyl would have. She wasn't sure how Phillip would react to it, but she was certain that Sandrine would like it. Whether or not Phillip realized the importance of decorating the interior of his boat to please Sandrine, Dani certainly did.
She and Sandrine had become close in their brief time together in Martinique after Phillip and Sharktooth rescued Dani. Dani smiled at the memory of Sandrine's remarks, uttered out of Phillip's hearing. Phillip's bachel
or days were numbered, and Dani thought that he and Sandrine were a good match. She had been relieved the other night when Phillip admitted that Sandrine might be "the one."
Chapter 6
The sail loft at English Harbour wasn't especially busy, having just finished the rush to clear their backlog before the beginning of the peak charter season. Dani had convinced the manager to let her use one of their idle sewing machines to run up the new cushion covers. The fact that she offered to pay their normal hourly labor rate for the time she used the machine made it an easy decision for the tired-looking manager.
Dani wasn't much of a seamstress, but the cushion covers were simple boxes. Her general mechanical aptitude, developed over her years working on yachts, served her well. She had ripped the old vinyl cushions apart yesterday afternoon and used the pieces for patterns. She had done the cutting aboard Kayak Spirit early this morning, fastening the pieces together roughly with a staple gun that she had found in Phillip's toolbox. She spent a couple of hours in the loft stitching up the seams, and settled her bill with the manager.
"They look good," he remarked, eyeing the covers as she counted out the money. "You do much upholstery work?"
"Thanks. First time, actually."
"Amazing. Nice, square corners and straight seams," he said.
"Not much different from carpentry, or sheet metal work, when you get right down to it," she said, handing him the money. "Measure twice, cut once, stick it together."
"I guess." He had a puzzled frown on his face as he helped her gather up the cushion covers.
Back aboard Kayak Spirit, she slipped the covers over the foam cushions. Satisfied with the fit, she found a sail needle and some waxed marline and hand-stitched the last seams. She had learned years ago that zippers didn't survive well in the marine environment. It was simple enough to take a sharp knife to the rough stitching if there was cause to remove the cover for cleaning, and then just re-stitch the seam, which was hidden when the cushions were in place.
Bluewater Vengeance: Mystery and Adventure in the Caribbean (Bluewater Thrillers Book 2) Page 3