“Humph. Big help you are!” I fussed.
He disappeared quickly back into the casino. I ran out the double glass doors and was assaulted by the strong sea wind and nearly ran into Sam Hyun, who was apparently trying to come back into the ship. Muttering an apology, I noticed the ship was moving a lot faster than it had during the day and wondered if that was by design—cruise along slowly during the day so everyone has a nice leisurely voyage and haul ass at night to get where we needed to go. Sounded like the way I worked on ad campaigns. As Sam pushed his way through the doors behind me, I looked right and left and could only discern in the half light from the ship’s interior two figures to the left and a single figure to the right. I went right and found the figure to be a woman, crying and looking off at the moon. She ignored me, which was convenient because I could turn and run back the way I’d come without being polite. I ran to the end of the promenade and encountered no one. I’d missed him again! I was about to turn around when a thump on my head hurt for a second before everything went dark.
Twenty-one
“Who are you?” I breathed as I looked up into the face of the Marlboro Man who, as far as I could tell, was carrying me in the dark.
He smiled and took a moment to answer. “Just think of me as your guardian angel.”
“Angels don’t hit people on the head.” I winced as my hand went instinctively to my throbbing noggin that had been assaulted twice in twelve hours. First tortured by duct tape and second by . . .
“What did you hit me with anyway?”
He chuckled now and shook his head, muttering under his breath, “He warned me she was a pistol.” Then, louder he said, “I didn’t hit you.”
“Who’s he?”
“You’re not making any sense,” he said. “Who’s he?”
“That’s what I asked you!” I insisted, squirming a bit in his arms. Ooo, he had nice, firm abs.
He cleared his throat. “You have a concussion, just take it easy. Everything is going to be a bit hazy for a while.” He kicked open a door and we were in some kind of bland utility staircase.
“If you didn’t conk me on the head for chasing you, then what happened?”
“Why are you chasing me?” he asked, descending the stairs.
“Because you’re always there when something is going on and it’s a little fishy. You were there in line when I was checking in and when my mom accused me of having saggy pants.”
“Your pants looked fine,” he assured me.
“You say that now, not in front of my mother, making you a coward.” I paused; he grinned. “Then, you were there at lunch when I got some weird threatening note.”
“What note?”
“Like you don’t know. Anyway, it said stop snooping or I’m gone.”
His face got hard. If Tom Cruise could act, anyone could. I continued, unaffected. “And then you were there when I barely escaped death.”
“You mean when you were running around naked with seaweed and mud all over you?”
“It was a life and death situation. And, I need to return your shirt.”
“Don’t worry about the shirt.”
He wasn’t even huffing and we’d traveled several floors. Or rather, he’d carried me several floors. I was impressed.
“Where are we going—to the ship doctor?”
“I don’t think so, you’re better off on your own. I leave you there you might end up in a Cozumel hospital tomorrow.”
“Smart man,” I said, but his words gave me a chill.
He opened a door and we were in a familiar hallway. He stopped and produced my purse. “Do you want to find your key?”
I reached for the clutch and felt the strap was broken. I dangled it in front of him. “What happened?”
“Broken during your altercation, I guess.”
“With whom?”
“Wish I knew.”
I handed over the keycard and he let us into my cabin, pulling back the covers and easing me down.
“I think your roommate can help you off with your clothes later.”
“You’d know if she could, because you spent the afternoon with her.”
His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “You are very sure of yourself. But you’re wrong about that.”
Dammit, I believed him, but how many pairs of black something-skin cowboy boots could there be on board a summer Caribbean cruise ship? He busied himself with putting ice into a towel and pressing it to my head.
I shook my head in confusion as I took over the compress. I was beginning to feel hazy. “I don’t understand why you want to help me.”
“That’s the way it’s gotta stay. Some things in life you just have to accept. I know the cell phone service doesn’t work out here well, but call this cabin number if you get in a bind and can leave a message. With two passengers missing and one overboard dead don’t go around the ship alone anymore. Buddy system. Promise?” He handed me a card with a different cabin number from the one I’d discovered Ingrid in earlier today. Darn. So I still didn’t know who he really was. The guy who went off the side drowned, huh? Uh-oh, things were getting very fuzzy.
“Wh-what’s your name?” I slurred as I drifted off.
“Hello, passengers.”
I woke to the sound of the intercom. I pulled the covers over my head and listened. “This is Captain Santiago at the bridge this morning. I hope everyone is enjoying the Hold ’Em tournament and side cash games as well as our casino. We promise gambling second to none on this the world’s first poker ship. It’s been quite exciting, with a lot of big money winners. Remember you can get credit on your winnings at the cashier, just not the cash until we dock back in Galveston. We try to make it easier for you. Now, we will be docking in Cozumel in a few hours. Many of you early risers can see the shore already. We have to issue a warning to you as per United States and Mexican authorities this morning. Unfortunately, they have asked everyone to remain on board the ship if at all possible. As many of you know, political unrest and drug violence have made the country quite unstable. Over the past two days, political protestors have targeted tourist destinations to make their cause known to the government. Hence the places you would normally go when at port will be mobbed with protestors who can get out of hand. We want everyone to enjoy this vacation and we have lots to do on board. However, if you have signed up for a ship-sponsored excursion, we will still take you ashore if you wish—under guard. Let the tour director know as soon as possible only if you wish to participate in your excursion. All others will be assumed to be cancelled. Have a terrific day, and good luck on the felt!”
Nice. I was a prisoner on the ship where I wasn’t someone’s favorite person. For a moment I felt sorry for myself. Most people had pleasant, relaxing vacations. I had vacations where I ended up in jail, at the morgue, finding body parts in a Dumpster, looking down the barrel of a 9mm Glock, blindfolded and nearly thrown out the window, conked on the head in the dark, diverted for a hurricane and hindered by political unrest. I couldn’t blame it all on poker, because the jail thing had been years ago with Ben in Bermuda. Hmm. It was Ben, not poker, that was the common denominator. Note to self: don’t go on any more vacations with brother.
Elva would be ticked. She’d been looking forward to hiking the Mayan ruins for months. Too bad. She’d have to win another shuffleboard tournament or carve an ice goose instead.
The phone rang. I reached out of the covers, picked up the receiver and brought it under the comforter with me. “Yes?”
“We’re going to hike Chicken Iza.”
“It’s Chichén Itzá, Mom.”
“Whatever. I’m scaling that puppy.”
“No you’re not, Mom.”
“Yes. I am, dear. I am not calling for my daughter’s permission. I am calling to see if you’re still coming. The tour director needs a head count.”
I shivered. Terrible visual with that one. “Why? So they know how many stakes to bring so the insurgents can walk around with your to
urist heads instead of signs in protest?”
“Very funny, dear. We’re going to have armed guards. I promise to carry my secret weapon—the pepper spray you gave me. I swear this will be safer than walking through downtown Houston at night.”
Well, she might have me on that one. “Mom, why don’t you just stay on board and climb the rock wall or ride the zip line?”
“Been there, done that, Belinda, on day one. Now are you going or not?”
I sighed. I really needed to do a thousand other things, including getting Hans to show me the video from the deck where I was conked last night, pressuring Kinkaid into stepping up the investigation and finding Eria to get her story about Mahdu’s disappearance, but I couldn’t let Mom and Dad go to their deaths alone. “Is Ben going?”
“Of course not! He’s afraid he’ll be kidnapped and held for ransom. He and Stella are playing pool poker all day instead.”
Anything was better than that.
“Okay, Mom. I’ll go,” I mumbled, thinking I could find a way while ashore to get a hold of U.S. authorities in Mexico and notify them of the disappearances and the dead man overboard.
“Great! We’re meeting the tour guide and armed guards on the dock as soon as we can get off the ship. See you there in a couple of hours!”
Wow. Sounded like a blast. The right side of my head was throbbing from the mystery wallop, and the left side was burning from the duct tape torture. I needed drugs. I pulled the whole phone in with me and called Ben.
“I need drugs,” I moaned when he answered.
“I’ll be right there,” he answered.
I threw back the covers and saw Amazonian Ingrid standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed over her chest, tapping her toe, glaring. “I can’t work for someone who uses drugs.”
I raised my eyebrows, slid my legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Ouch. My neck was killing me. Cradling the phone in my lap, I dialed again. “Bring the hard stuff,” I croaked before hanging up.
“What is it?” Ingrid demanded, infuriated. “Ice? Cocaine?”
I shook my head, rose stiffly and shuffled to the bathroom with Ingrid breathing down my neck. I grabbed the door knob and tried to pull it closed, but she was in the way. “Crack?”
“Ingrid, I’ll tell you what I’ll crack if you don’t let me close the door.”
Stunned, she stepped back. I splashed my face with water and heard the knock at the door. I opened the bathroom door to see Ingrid opening the cabin door to Ben, who held up an array of small packages. Ingrid grabbed his arm and pulled him in.
“Happy to see me, are you, Ingrid? I knew you’d come to your senses. Let’s get rid of my sister and get down to it.”
Ingrid was looking at the little packages of painkillers in Ben’s hand. “These are pharmaceutical samples,” she said, stating the obvious, yet leaning against the wall in shock.
“Very good, Ingrid,” Ben said, throwing me a look that said “psycho!”
“Ingrid thought I was a meth freak,” I explained, fingering the boxes. “Which one is best for torturous neck pain, searing scalp pain and large-lump-on-head pain?”
Ben plucked out one and handed it to me. I retrieved a water glass from the bar and filled it in the sink, gratefully sucking down the capsule.
“So why are you so banged up?” Ben asked. “Kinky sex with that slimeball you’re hanging with?”
“Ian and I are just friends.”
“So are Ingrid and I, but wild animal lovemaking is only a word away. I’m guessing Ian is about at that place too.”
Ingrid and I shared a grimace. “All men are at that place,” Ingrid murmured.
“Listen,” I said, “Ian doesn’t have anything to do with my feeling like I’ve been pulled through a knothole backwards. I was attacked twice yesterday—in the spa and then out on deck during the aperitif reception.”
“I wondered why they suspended the tournament for the night,” Ben observed, gingerly investigating the bump on my head. He actually looked concerned. Amazing. “You think it’s because you are a poker star or are you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong again?”
“What do you mean, again? If I hadn’t stuck it there last time you’d be a goner—might I remind you, in an especially painful and sick way.”
Ingrid raised her eyebrows at that. Ben shrugged.
“It’s a good thing you’re getting off the ship with Mom and Dad today, Bee Bee. Maybe the ship security will get to the bottom of this weirdness by the time you’re back on board.”
“We can hope, but I doubt it. They seem more enthused about covering up the disappearances than finding out who’s behind them. As for the poor investigator, no telling what excuse they will come up with for his demise.”
“Hey, another reason it’s good you’re outta here for the day is that maybe Slimeball will find someone else to play with.”
“Why does everyone think Ian is slimy?”
“Because compared to Frank-Mr.-Rough-Around-the-Edges, he is,” Ben stated.
Ingrid turned away but I saw her small smile. Gut twist. That reminded me. “By the way, Ingrid, how come you didn’t tell me you are Frank’s friend?”
“Is that important?” she asked innocently, face in closet, reviewing my fashion options for the day. I hated to tell her but I thought the saggy butt capris were going to be the only way to go if I were scaling crumbling rock structures in a hundred humid degrees.
“It’s that important to me,” I said defiantly.
“Okay,” she said, turning from the closet with an impossibly short strapless sundress and tie-up-the-calf sandals that were at least flat, her one nod to practicality. She elaborated as she searched the top drawer for jewelry, “Frank and I are really more business associates than friends.”
“Business associates?” I demanded. “I thought you were a student?”
“I am a student, getting my PhD in psychology.”
Oh geez, she was probably my age and just looked eighteen. That would really depress me.
“But when you aren’t in class, you work in ‘security’ with Frank?” I prodded.
“No, I’m really more in public relations. Sometimes our work overlaps, then we work together. Simple as that.”
Simple as the Pythagorean theorem.
Ben looked from Ingrid to me and back, then shrugged. Mysteries and unanswered questions never bothered him much, which I’m certain is why he looked like a movie star and I looked like our great uncle Wilbur. “If you’re on the road to semirecovery, I’m off. Stella and I have to hit the Astroturf,” Ben said, laughing at his own poor joke.
Ingrid cocked her head at me as he let himself out the door. “Football?”
“No, the Vegas pool has poker tables in the water with Astroturf instead of felt.”
She nodded. “Weird boat.”
“Smart boat, if you think about it, offering gambling to everyone at every opportunity. I hear there are even slot machines next to every chair in the burger and pizza bar.”
Ingrid picked out a twenty-six-inch silver and colored sea glass necklace and matching dangle earrings and put them with the sundress.
I shook my head at the ensemble, pulling out the practical outfit I’d already figured on wearing. “Ingrid, I’m going hiking in a third world country not cruising Rodeo Drive.”
“Image is everything. You never know who you’ll see. What if the ESPN crew decides to follow an excursion and it’s yours?” She waved at the crinkled up pair of capris, T-shirt and Pumas I’d chosen. “You don’t want that on national TV, do you?”
“I just want to get my parents back to the boat in one piece,” I said. “Now back to Frank. How often do you work together?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes for a month straight, sometimes only a day every six months.”
“So could you find out what work kept him from taking the cruise?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, looking out the glass at the balcony.
; “Okay, how about you tell me all you know about him.”
“He’s extremely private, super focused, good hearted, tough skinned. An ultra type-A workaholic with baggage he tries to hide.”
I think I knew about the baggage but I thought I’d better ask in case there was more. “Like what?”
“Alcoholism and personal relationships that don’t always go his way.”
Control, Bee. I let out the breath I’d been holding. I picked up the dress and hung it back in the closet. I could ask about girlfriends, but decided I didn’t want to know. “Have you met his ex?”
“Nooo,” she answered but still didn’t meet my gaze. “I didn’t know he had one.”
“Still, you seem to know him pretty well.” I tried to keep my voice neutral but my alto cracked a bit on the last word. Don’t think I fooled her.
“Not really,” Ingrid smiled casually. “I’m a psych major, I analyze everyone.”
“So why would a flack need a psych degree?” I asked, still bothered that it all wasn’t jibing.
“You don’t think knowing how and why people act they way they do would help you in advertising?”
“Of course it would.”
“PR is nothing but advertising image. Speaking of which, we need to talk about your website.”
I started to tell her about Ringo’s column when a knock sounded at the door. I opened it, assuming Ben had forgotten to tell me something but instead Jack stood in the hallway. I stepped back to let him in and he paused, blushing madly, when he saw Ingrid, who’d suddenly struck a coy pose, batting her eyelashes.
After an awkward few seconds, Jack turned to me. “We’ve got to t-talk.”
Twenty-two
“D-d-don’t ever d-do that to me again.”
“What did I do?”
“I’ve been worried sick,” Jack told me as he paced the cabin, his words coming out in such a rush, he didn’t have time to stutter. “You never came back into the ballroom from the cappuccino break. Kinkaid came into the tournament and called it off for the night, saying another weather system had forced us out of international waters, which was crap. You wouldn’t answer your cabin phone so I came down here and saw some big cowboy coming out of your cabin. He didn’t stop when I called out. I thought he’d flung you off your balcony.
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