Val gaped at him. What navigation experience? If it was anything like the cooking expertise he claimed, they were doomed. “Don’t go up there, Granddad. The water’s too choppy for you to take the stairs.”
Cheyenne went over to a door between the dining and sitting areas that Val had assumed opened to a closet. “There’s a built-in ladder in here. It goes to a hatch on the upper deck. Otto said it’s for when the weather is really bad. We’ve always used the outside stairs.” She opened the door to the vertical ladder.
Val kept Granddad off ladders even when they were on solid ground. With the motion of the boat, he could easily fall off.
He peered at the ladder. “I’ll take my chances outside. Did you call the Coast Guard, son?” When Trey shook his head, Granddad continued, “A Mayday call is our first mission.” He left the saloon with Trey.
“Where could Otto have gone?” Cheyenne wailed. “Did any of you see him on the deck when you went out there?”
Head shakes all around.
Cheyenne paced from one side of the saloon to the other. “Maybe Trey didn’t check the side decks for Otto. He must be out there somewhere.” She loomed over Stacy. “Are you sure you didn’t see Otto? You left the saloon right after he did.”
Stacy took a moment to answer. “I left a minute or two later. I might have caught a glimpse of him when I first went out.” She stood up. “I’ll look for Otto on all the decks and go to the bridge to see what’s going on there. Now where are the life vests?”
Cheyenne gasped. “Life vests? Aren’t you overreacting?”
“No. I’m going on deck with the boat bucking like a bronco. If a wave hits us sideways when I’m on the stairs, I could fall off.”
Cheyenne removed the cushions from one end of the sofa, dropped them on the floor, and lifted the seat on which they’d rested. “The life jackets are stored here for anyone who wants to wear one.”
Louisa stood up, clutching her middle. “I don’t feel well.” She rushed past the galley and went down the staircase to the lower deck.
Stacy donned a bright orange life jacket, tested the whistle, and exited to the deck.
Bethany whispered to Val, “That sounded like the whistle Rose used in the Titanic movie after the ship went under.”
Val couldn’t distinguish one whistle from another, but maybe Bethany, with her singing background, would recognize a Titanic-pitched whistle. Otto would love the connection she’d just made.
Hmm. If he wanted to give his guests the full flavor of the Titanic’s last night at sea, not just the last dinner, he’d strike fear into them. Maybe that’s what he’d done. Val wouldn’t put it past him to hide somewhere on the yacht and talk Jerome into acting zonked. Where would he hide? On the lower deck, perhaps. But he hadn’t taken the indoor stairway down.
Val pointed to it. “Is there another way to the lower deck besides those stairs, Cheyenne?”
Otto’s wife stared at her for a moment as if confused by the question. “That’s the only staircase, but . . . I’ll go to the lower deck to check if he’s there.”
Val followed her down the stairs.
“I’ll look in the master stateroom and head,” Cheyenne said. “You try the other two staterooms.” She went into the room at the front of the boat.
As the boat rocked, Val steadied herself by holding on to the wall in the narrow corridor. She opened the doors on either side of the hall. No one in the bunkroom or the larger stateroom. Through the closed door to the head, she could hear the sounds of Louisa being sick to her stomach. How many of Otto’s guests were having a taste of seasickness tonight?
Cheyenne came out of the master stateroom. “He’s not there.”
Val pointed to doorways in the narrow corridor between the two guest staterooms. “What’s behind those doors?”
“A washer and dryer on the left. Straight ahead is the engine room. There’s an outside door on the other end that opens to the swim platform.”
Ah. A secret passage that Otto might have taken. Worth a look. “Let’s check it out, Cheyenne. Maybe Otto’s working on an engine problem.”
“I’m sure he would have told us, but okay.” Cheyenne opened the door and called out, “Otto? Are you in there?” Silence. She shrugged. “I guess not.”
“He might have gotten hurt while trying to fix something.” They should make sure he wasn’t there, either injured or hidden. But that didn’t cover all the possibilities. He could also be dead in the engine room.
Cheyenne rubbed her hands over her silk dress as if trying to wipe off dirt. “Would you look for him there? I’m not feeling well.” She rushed into the master stateroom.
Val paused before stepping into the engine room, her nerves on edge. If Otto jumped out at her, she’d give him a piece of her mind, but what if she found him unconscious or dead? Twice in the last year she’d stumbled on a body. She doubted it would be easier the third time.
She took a deep breath, went through the narrow doorway, and felt for a light switch on the wall. She flipped it on. No worry about grease or grime in this engine room. The machinery looked new, or at least recently scrubbed, and it occupied most of the floor space. Pipes and ducts went into and out of the engines and tanks in the room. Valves and meters lined the walls.
Not much space to hide or even to move. She felt cramped under the low ceiling and amid the huge machinery. Claustrophobia threatened her as she inched along the narrow aisle between two engines. She felt her heart thumping. She opened a heavy door in the far wall and entered the storage room. Though smaller than the engine room, it had more open space. She breathed easier and crossed the room to the door that must lead to the swim platform. She opened it wide enough to get rained on and to see that no one was out there. Then she closed it and retraced her steps.
When she emerged at the other end, Cheyenne was waiting for her in the corridor.
Had she avoided going into the engine room because she’d really felt sick? Or because she couldn’t face searching for her older husband, fearing she’d find him dead?
“Otto wasn’t in the engine room,” Val said. “Is Louisa still down here?” If so, someone should check on her too.
“She went upstairs a minute ago.”
Back on the main deck, Cheyenne collapsed into one of the armchairs.
Val went over to Bethany, who sat at the table, her face pasty. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”
Taking this gig had been a mistake, no matter how much money Otto had offered her. Granddad had been right about that.
Bethany pointed to the dazed Homer, who sat silent and rigid at the dining table. “He looks like he could use a shot of brandy.”
Val went to the bar across the room, poured a brandy for Homer, and brought it to him.
The brandy revived him enough that he voiced his fears instead of holding them in. “I shouldn’t have come tonight, but I wanted to experience the elegant last dinner on the Titanic. What irony if this dinner also ended with a disaster. If anything happens to me, I don’t know what my wife will do. She needs me.”
“I’m sure she does,” Val said, “and you’ll be fine.”
Stacy stumbled into the saloon as the boat pitched, her hair wet. “It’s pouring rain now. No sign of Otto.” She snapped off her life vest and reported that Granddad and Trey had reached the Coast Guard. “A response boat is coming to escort us back to the marina, and the Coast Guard will search for Otto.”
Cheyenne pressed her hands together as if praying. “Thank God. There’s some hope.”
The others in the saloon avoided looking at her. Not enough hope to go around. How long could Otto tread water, and what were the chances they’d find him in the dark? They’d better do it soon. The Chesapeake Bay was far warmer than the North Atlantic, but hypothermia would set in here too, just more slowly than it had for the Titanic passengers.
Stacy said, “Trey said the radar shows we’re getting out of the squall. It should be calmer before long.”
; Maybe it was Val’s imagination, but she already felt as if the yacht was rolling and pitching less than it had earlier. She checked her watch. Just past nine. Hard to believe that barely half an hour had gone by since the squall hit.
The silence in the room was more deafening than the exercise music had been. With the host missing, returning to the table for the rest of the gala Titanic dinner probably had little appeal, especially for those feeling seasick. Yet Val was sure food would do them all good, if they could manage to eat. She decided to set out the main course as a buffet. Tricky to reheat the beef without overcooking it. It was still warm, so she’d serve it that way. She reheated the vegetables, found serving bowls for them, and put the food on the counter that divided the galley from the dining area. She then collected the booklets from the table and stuffed them into a drawer in the galley.
Two minutes after she invited the guests to the buffet, Stacy started the procession to the table. Damian and Louisa followed her. Cheyenne joined them at the table. She and Bethany talked quietly instead of eating. Homer had no interest in food either.
Val cleaned up the galley and pondered what could have happened to Otto. He must have gone overboard, but how? He might have had a heart attack, fallen from the stairs, and pitched into the water.
Or one of this odd assortment of guests might have pushed him.
Under the guise of a mystery game, Otto had accused them of crimes and misdemeanors. Their vehement denials suggested his accusations might have hit home. Could his fiction about a Titanic passenger who went overboard have triggered a similar event tonight?
Chapter 5
Val and Bethany were standing on the aft deck with Otto’s wife and guests when the boat docked. Doubtless, they all wanted to get off as soon as possible, but they weren’t allowed to leave yet. An emergency medical team rushed aboard to assess Jerome’s condition. Coast Guard officers and Bayport policemen also met the boat. Val knew the rookie Officer Wade, but was surprised that Chief Earl Yardley, Granddad’s good friend, wasn’t there.
Cheyenne greeted the first Coast Guard officer who boarded the boat and said she was the wife of the missing man. Chief Petty Officer Campbell introduced himself and sent everyone except her back inside the saloon. Five minutes later, he came into the saloon with her and Petty Officer Lopez. Another officer had gone to the upper deck, where Granddad, Trey, and Jerome remained.
The lanky Officer Campbell announced that a search-and-rescue mission was under way for Otto. “We know the time and the location of the Abyss when we received the Mayday call. We’d like to know exactly when Mr. Warbeck was last seen on the boat so we can focus our search in the right area.”
Damian spoke up. “Last I saw of him was when he left the table, but I don’t know what time that was.”
“I do,” Val said. “He left a minute or two before eight thirty.” She’d been watching the time to follow Otto’s schedule for serving the courses.
Cheyenne, seated next to Bethany on the long side of the L-shaped sofa, pointed at Otto’s ex-wife, on the other end of the sofa. “You saw him after that.”
Stacy tilted her head, as if mulling alternative responses. “I went outside a few minutes after Otto did. I glimpsed the lower legs of a man in black trousers at the top of the stairs to the upper deck. I took him to be Otto, but it could have been Trey, or even Jerome.”
Cheyenne frowned. “Earlier you sounded more positive that you saw Otto.”
“I have to be more precise because I’m giving information to the Coast Guard now, not speaking casually.”
“Did anyone see him after that?” Officer Campbell said.
Heads shook in answer, but no one spoke.
The officer asked about Otto’s behavior and condition that evening. Had he appeared ill? Drunk much alcohol? Shown signs of being under the influence of any substance, including prescription drugs? No one responded except Cheyenne. She defended her husband against any suggestion that he drank to excess or misused drugs.
The officer asked if any of them had interacted with Jerome after coming aboard the yacht. Stacy and Homer had seen him when Otto gave them a tour of the navigation area, but no one had exchanged more than a few words with him. Though not friendly, he’d come across as sober and serious.
Petty Officer Lopez went around the room, writing down names and contact information. The sitting area was compact enough that Val could hear what was said. The guests all gave Bayport addresses, except for Homer from Annapolis and Stacy from a Maryland suburb of Washington, D.C. She was spending the weekend in Bayport, where her son was house-sitting. Val made a mental note of the three Bayport addresses.
The officer asked Cheyenne to remain when he dismissed the others. No one was allowed to take anything off the yacht except personal items. They wouldn’t even let Val pack up the leftover food. Though Granddad and Trey joined the group getting off the yacht, Jerome remained on board with the officers.
On the way home Granddad reported that Jerome had recovered enough to talk to the Coast Guard, but he had no memory of the squall. “Otto will surface one of these days. I don’t expect the Coast Guard helicopter will locate him while he’s still afloat.”
Bethany sighed in the back seat. “Poor Cheyenne. She’s in denial. She can’t understand how Otto could have fallen off the yacht. He had a lot of experience on the water.”
“Folks with experience sometimes take more chances,” Granddad said. “They think they know it all. Otto was a know-it-all if I ever saw one.”
“Did he drink much at the table?” Val said.
Granddad shook his head. “He asked me to keep everyone’s wineglass full. I never had to top off his or Trey’s. They didn’t take more than a sip.”
Bethany leaned toward the front seat. “Otto was engrossed in his mystery game, watching everyone at the table as if they were real suspects. He even made notes.”
“In his script booklet?” Val said.
“I couldn’t see what he was writing on. His hands were just below the tabletop, like a schoolboy who doesn’t want the kid next to him copying the answer.”
“I jot things down so I won’t forget them,” Granddad said. “Otto probably made a note to call his broker on Monday or something like that.”
Val pulled up at the curb in front of Bethany’s house. “Thank you for coming along tonight. You were a big help to me—and to Cheyenne when she needed support.”
“I feel sorry for her. I’ll call her tomorrow to see how she’s doing.” Bethany opened the back door. “Sorry this didn’t turn out the way it was supposed to, especially for Otto. I’ll help the next time you cater a Titanic dinner, but only if it’s on land.”
“There won’t be a next time,” Val said as Bethany climbed out.
“There shouldn’t have been a this time,” Granddad grumbled.
Once Bethany went inside her house, Val pulled away and made a U-turn. “Do you have any idea what was wrong with Jerome?”
“Nope. He was out cold, but breathing fine. We kept trying to shake him awake. He started to respond about fifteen minutes before we docked. He wouldn’t take the controls, because he felt funny, but he gave us navigation advice.”
“Did you see any alcohol or smell it on him?”
“No, but he’ll be tested for drugs. You get in trouble with the Coast Guard for operating a vessel while impaired—big trouble if someone gets hurt because of it.”
Val turned onto Main Street. “It doesn’t make sense for him to drink or take drugs if he wants to be a licensed captain. He must have had a medical problem.”
“Addicts can’t control when they use, but he didn’t come across as an addict.”
“Otto didn’t think so either, or he wouldn’t have trusted him at the helm.”
“I didn’t trust that other young fella at all. Surly at the table, like your brother when he was a teenager. I didn’t expect Trey would be much help, but he surprised me. He figured out how to read the radar, adjust the autopilot, and
get away from the squall. He knew a lot about the controls, but he was nervous about putting his hands on anything.”
Val pulled into their driveway. “I couldn’t figure out why he came to the dinner. Maybe the yacht was the attraction.”
“Could be. When Otto gave a tour of the bridge, Trey stayed the longest. He must have picked up a few pointers from Jerome.” Granddad climbed out of the car and went in the side door to the house. “I’m beat. Ready to turn in.”
“Me too. Thanks for helping tonight, Granddad.”
Val trudged upstairs and got ready for bed, expecting to lie awake for hours. But preparing for tonight’s dinner, standing on her feet most of the day, and dealing with the stress of Otto’s disappearance had left her exhausted. Her eyes were closing as she brushed her teeth. She fell into bed and slept soundly.
* * *
Val had forgotten to set her alarm. She arrived at the Bayport Racket and Fitness Club only twenty minutes before she had to open the café. Fortunately, she’d recently cut down on her Sunday hours, opening an hour later and leaving an hour earlier than on weekdays. The leftovers from Saturday included bread pudding and quiche—something to offer customers until the baked ham-and-cheese sandwich with béchamel sauce was ready.
She was busy for the first hour, preparing the food for the rest of the morning and serving the club members who exercised early. Not as many showed up on Sundays as on weekdays, but enough came so that she didn’t have time to check for news about the search for Otto. When she had a free moment, she took out her phone and searched online for information. Nothing new on Otto. In this case, no news was bad news.
She looked up to see Gunnar striding into the café. A smile lit up his face and brightened her mood. With his large features and square jaw, he wasn’t conventionally handsome, but a good build, a resonant voice, and a megawatt smile put him in the category of attractive, at least to her.
“Gunnar! I didn’t expect you this morning. I thought you’d be poring over income tax forms.”
“Almost done with the last two. I’ve been spending too much time in front of a computer, so I came here early to work out.” He sat on a stool at the eating bar. “How did your dinner go last night?”
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