by Elaine Viets
A quick shower revived her. So did the knowledge that this was her last day. As a special treat, Suzanne made her fabulous coconut bread for both the crew and the owners.
At breakfast on the upper aft deck, Beth looked dramatic in a red and gold silk caftan and a collar of rubies set in gold. Mitzi looked downright silly in a matching ruby collar and red bow. Rosette was drab as a sparrow in brown linen. Pepper nearly blinded the other guests when she wore her emerald-and-diamond choker with a green halter top and miniskirt. The sun danced off the diamonds and shot sparks around the table.
“I can’t believe she’s wearing diamonds in daytime,” Rosette said, with a sneer. “She’s got on more jewelry than clothes.”
Pepper turned to her. “What did you say?” she asked, her voice soft.
“Nothing. I was talking to my husband.” Rosette seemed to shrivel in her chair.
“I saw you laughing,” Pepper said. “Let’s all share in the joke.”
“It wasn’t funny,” Rosette said. “I mentioned to Ralph that it’s unusual to wear diamonds in the daytime.”
“You’re right,” Pepper said. “It wasn’t funny. But if you’ve got it, flaunt it. And you don’t. Stewardess, I’d like more coconut bread, please.”
The Belted Earl docked at the marina at eleven that morning. The staff lined up in their dress uniforms to bid the owners and guests farewell. Pepper and Scotty had given big tips. Mira had gotten a hundred dollars. Helen’s tip was two hundred. She wondered if Pepper was atoning for the wine incident.
You can buy forgiveness, she told herself, as she pocketed the two crisp bills.
Matt and Sam carried the luggage to the waiting limousines.
As Beth wafted past Andrei carrying Mitzi, the poodle suddenly squirmed and struggled out of her mistress’s arms. Beth lost the battle to hold on to her pet.
“Mitzi! What’s wrong with you?” Beth asked.
The poodle ran straight for Andrei and chomped his ankle in the same spot she’d bitten him before.
“Worthless mutt!” the engineer said. He grabbed the poodle by her throat and shook her until her jeweled collar rattled. Mitzi fought to bite him again.
“I ought to break your pointless neck,” Andrei said. The little dog squealed and sank her sharp teeth into his hand.
“Don’t hurt Mitzi!” Beth screamed.
“Drop that dog,” Earl shouted.
Andrei kept shaking the poodle.
Josiah waded into the shrieking, screaming cluster and pulled Mitzi off Andrei’s hand. Her teeth left deep bloody scrapes in the engineer’s skin.
“Andrei, you’re fired,” the captain said.
CHAPTER 32
The caravan of black Lincoln Town Cars was rumbling out of the marina parking lot when the yacht cleanup began. The crew moved so rapidly, Helen thought someone hit a fast-forward button.
By the time the third Lincoln left the lot, the deckhand and bosun had zipped all the canvas covers on the deck furniture. Mira had stripped the master stateroom bed and was scrubbing the shower.
“Hurry!” she said. “I have to get to the airport.”
Helen stripped the guest stateroom beds, dusted away Scotty’s ash for the last time and vacuumed the carpets.
As she rushed through the secret passage, arms piled with damp towels and soiled sheets, she saw Carl leaning in the doorway of the cabin he shared with Andrei. Helen slowed slightly to hear their conversation.
“That’s all you got?” the first mate drawled. “Those three bags?”
“Yes. And I do not think it is fair—” Andrei said, his voice a surly whine.
“Not my decision,” Carl said, cutting him off. “Where are your uniforms?”
“In the closet,” Andrei said. “The captain, he does this because I am foreigner.” Helen noticed Andrei’s accent thickened not only when he was drunk, but also when he was upset. She could feel his rage. The cramped cabin was too small to contain it.
“You’ve got a green card,” Carl said. “You’re taking a job away from a real American. Bet you bought yourself a green card marriage on the Internet.”
“My green card is legal,” Andrei said. “That is why I have job on American-registered boat.”
Carl’s drawl stretched like taffy. “Don’t see your dress uniform there, Andrei. Where is it?”
“Don’t know,” Andrei said, his voice higher.
“I think you do,” Carl said, slowly. “You still have to go through U.S. Customs. What would happen if they got an anonymous tip about your marriage? You got any wedding pictures? Still living with your wife? I bet you don’t even know where she is anymore. You can get shipped back to Bulgaria if your marriage is a fraud.”
Silence. Then Andrei said, “I might have accidentally packed it.” He sounded like a surly child.
“Well, accidentally unpack it,” Carl said.
Helen heard a zipping sound. Then Carl said, “Thank you. Soon as the captain gets back from escorting the owners and guests to their plane, he’ll hightail it to immigration at Port Everglades with you and the new stew.”
Customs! Helen had forgotten about that. She hurried past Carl to the crew mess, where Mira was loading both washers.
“Once we finish this laundry and clean the heads, we’re done,” she said. “You and Andrei have to ride with the captain to immigration. Andrei has a green card and you don’t have a boat card.”
“What’s a boat card?” Helen asked.
“You get it from the feds if you travel by private boat a lot. They’re called NEXUS cards. All the crew have them. We don’t need to go through customs. The captain just calls in our card numbers when we get into port.
“We always party at the end of a cruise, but I’m skipping this one. Kevin is taking me straight to the airport. Get ready to rock, Helen. You need to party after that crossing. You like wine or margaritas?”
“Both,” Helen said, “but I’m skipping out, too. I’m meeting Phil. I have to tell him to pick me up at Port Everglades.”
The head stew checked her watch. “The Homeland Security office is at the other end of the port by Griffin Road. There’s no gate security there. He can wait for you in the parking lot. We should be free about twelve thirty. I’ll miss you, but I won’t miss Andrei. I can’t believe he tried to hurt poor little Mitzi.”
“It wasn’t the first time,” Helen said. “I heard her yelp when he was alone with her in the crew mess one night. He may have kicked her.”
“Well, he’s gone now,” Mira said. “Finish the main salon head, will you?”
Helen cleaned the head and folded the toilet paper into a neat point.
“Done,” she told herself. Next she folded towels, still warm from the dryer, while Mira ironed the sheets.
Then she hurried to her cabin to call Phil. Just hearing his voice made her feel warm. No, not warm. Hot. Honeymoon hot. She wanted to be alone with her man.
“Helen!” he said. “I miss you. I need you. Our local case is breaking.”
“Did you catch her?” Helen asked, careful not to use Blossom’s name. “Do you know what she used?”
“Can’t say on a cell phone,” he said. “When do I pick you up?”
“I should be finished about twelve thirty,” she said, “but don’t come to the marina. I have to go through customs at Port Everglades.” She told him where.
“I’ll be waiting in my Jeep,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Helen said. “I have good news about our other case.”
“You found the … uh, person?” Phil asked.
“Can’t wait to tell you about it,” she said, and hit the END button. Two could play the “I can’t say anything on a cell phone” game.
Helen stashed her cleaning caddy for the last time, tidied her cabin and packed her small bag. When she opened her cabin door, the yacht was perfumed with a delicious aroma. It didn’t take much detective skill to track it to the galley, where the tall, thin chef was washing
down the countertops.
“What smells so good?” Helen asked.
“I’m making pizza for the crew,” Suzanne said. “What’s your favorite topping?”
“I have to miss this party,” Helen said. “I’m meeting Phil right after I go through customs. I enjoyed working with you.”
“My pleasure,” Suzanne said. “I’m guessing this is your first and last cruise as a stewardess.”
Helen said nothing. Suzanne opened the oven door and took out two pizzas, oozing cheese. Red rounds of pepperoni and brown sausage were embedded in the top like greasy jewels.
“I thought so,” she said. “Will you do one last chore and carry these to the crew mess?”
Matt, Sam and Dick, the second engineer, attacked the pizzas as soon as Helen set them on the table. She heard the spoit! of beer tops popping. Carl didn’t join the hungry crew. He stayed with Andrei in their cabin. Was the captain worried his fired engineer would damage the yacht?
Helen ran down the passage and asked Carl, “Would you like some pizza?”
“No, thanks,” he said. “I’m staying on board after the captain dismisses the crew and takes you and Andrei to Port Everglades. I can eat then.”
Andrei was slumped on his bunk, sulking. His black polo shirt seemed to accent the dark pits in his skin. Helen didn’t offer him pizza. The poodle abuser could starve.
No one mentioned Andrei during the party, but Helen thought the crew was relieved he stayed in his cabin. She wondered if Dick, the quiet second engineer, would be promoted to Andrei’s job.
While the boys ate, drank beer and cracked jokes, Mira rolled a pink suitcase out to the crew mess. The fat duffel sat on top of it. She was dressed for a colder climate in jeans, a long-sleeved white shirt and a pink hoodie. “New York, here I come,” she said.
“It’s chilly there in April,” Helen said. “Do you have the right clothes for your trip?”
“Nope, but I can buy them in Manhattan,” Mira said. “I can’t wait to leave.”
Helen couldn’t, either. By the time she and Mira had said their good-byes to the crew, the captain had returned.
A sullen Andrei dragged his dark backpack with the square bulge down the gangplank. Helen thought the fired engineer would have a harder time attracting gullible young women without his dashing dress uniform.
The three women rolled their suitcases down the gangplank. Mira ran to a dramatically handsome man of about thirty. His black clothes, thick dark hair and carefully calculated beard stubble screamed “actor.”
“Kevin!” Mira cried, her pink suitcase bumping over the marina’s blacktop, the duffel nearly falling off.
Suzanne drove off alone in a dented red Honda.
Helen and Andrei climbed into the captain’s black Chevy for a short, silent ride to Port Everglades. Helen cleared customs quickly, then shook the captain’s hand, but not Andrei’s. She wanted nothing to do with him.
Outside she spotted Phil’s black Jeep in the lot and ran to him. He was wearing her favorite soft blue shirt, the one that matched his eyes. His long silver hair was tied back in a ponytail.
Helen wrapped her arms around him. “Um, muscles!” she said, rubbing his back. She inhaled his scent of coffee and sandalwood and kissed him hard.
“I missed you,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
After more kisses she said, “We still have work to do on this case. You need to tip off the feds.”
Helen told him about Mira and the emeralds, then asked, “Who are you going to call? ICE?”
“The agency isn’t called Immigration and Customs Enforcement anymore,” Phil said. “They’ve changed their name to Homeland Security Investigations. I’ll call an HSI agent in Fort Lauderdale. He’ll know if the airport has an HSI special agent on duty. If not, TSA will do the takedown. We need to give him as many details as possible, including where Mira was coming from, how the emeralds were smuggled and a description of her luggage. They’ll love a chance to seize smuggled emeralds.”
“I can even give them the color of her suitcase,” Helen said. “I’m no jewelry expert, but I’d say the cut stones have a retail value of several million. We’d better hurry. Mira and her boyfriend are boarding a three o’clock flight for New York.”
The HSI agent was definitely interested in Phil’s information. Helen heard him reciting the details:
“That’s right. Her name is Mira—short for Vladimira—Fedorova, age twenty-nine, about five foot six, long blond hair, wearing jeans, a white shirt and a pink hoodie. Name sounds Russian, but she’s a U.S. citizen living in Fort Lauderdale. She has a pink rolling suitcase and may also have a large navy duffel. That one’s too big for carry-on. She’s traveling with a dark-haired thirty-something male, first name Kevin. They’re taking the three o’clock flight to LaGuardia. I don’t know if he’s involved. She’s a stewardess on a yacht. That’s how she’s been bringing in the jewels. The captain got suspicious and our agency had an operative aboard. She found the emeralds on a belt in a bag of old evening dresses.”
That’s me, Helen thought. I’m an operative. A successful operative.
Phil repeated the information several times, then hung up. “They’re going after her,” he said. “I hope your hunch is right.”
“It is,” Helen said, with more confidence than she felt. “We should call our favorite TV reporter, Valerie Cannata. We can promise her the story, if she agrees not to use the captain’s name or the ship’s name. Think she’ll go along with it?”
“Hell, yes,” Phil said. “But she can’t do the story unless she can get a camera crew to the airport on short notice. Let’s hope for a slow news day. Coronado Investigations will have to stay out of this story. But we’ll get plenty of publicity when we give her the scoop on the murder of a prominent Fort Lauderdale businessman.”
“You’re that close to a solution?” Helen asked.
“I am,” Phil said. “But I need you.”
Helen kissed him again. “And I need you,” she said. “Could your case wait until tomorrow morning?”
“I think it’s time for some undercover work,” Phil said. “Let’s go home.”
CHAPTER 33
Phil’s phone rang at nine thirty that night. Helen sat up in bed, flipped on the light and found the receiver.
“Helen! It’s Valerie.”
Helen hastily pulled the sheet up over her breasts, as if the investigative reporter could see her naked.
“I wanted to thank you and Phil for the amazing tip,” Valerie said. “The smuggling story runs at ten tonight.”
“The feds caught Mira?” Helen was still groggy.
“Did they ever,” Valerie said. “Carrying a suitcase jammed with emeralds. HSI says they have a street value of five million dollars. The feds always exaggerate, but I think she had at least three million in smuggled stones. We’re the only station with the story. Thank you, thank you, sweetie. Gotta run.”
“Phil, wake up!” Helen said, shaking her sleeping spouse. “Valerie called. The feds caught Mira. Her story runs at ten. We should call the captain so he can watch it.”
“You make the call and I’ll make a snack,” Phil said. “Scrambled eggs okay?”
“You’re going to wait on me?” Helen said. “What luxury.”
Phil gave her a long kiss. “Scrambled eggs aren’t my idea of luxury,” he said. “I’d buy you a yacht if I could.”
“Wouldn’t want it,” Helen said. “The Earl was gorgeous, but there was no privacy. I could hear the guests fighting—and their makeup sex afterward. I knew too much about them.”
Phil slipped on his white robe. A loud meow stopped his march to the kitchen. Thumbs planted himself in Phil’s path. The six-toed cat’s yellow-green eyes glowed in the low light.
“It’s also time for someone else’s dinner,” Helen said. “Come here, big boy, and say hello.”
“I already did,” Phil said. “Several times.”
“I meant the cat,” Helen said.
Thumbs turned his back on Helen and padded after Phil to the tiny kitchen.
“You still aren’t forgiven for abandoning him,” Phil said.
Captain Josiah Swingle wasn’t happy with Helen, either. “I thought we agreed to avoid publicity,” he said.
Helen felt ice forming on her phone. “We made a deal with Valerie,” she said. “If she kept you and the Earl out of this story, we promised her another scoop.”
“I’ll watch tonight to make sure she keeps her word,” Josiah said. “I don’t trust reporters. I’ll stop by tomorrow morning to settle my bill. Seven thirty?”
Helen looked at Phil’s deliciously rumpled sheets. She’d love to sleep in, but Phil had to work at Blossom’s tomorrow and Coronado Investigations couldn’t refuse a customer begging to pay.
“See you then,” she said.
Helen stumbled into the living room, still half asleep. Phil carried two plates heaped with fluffy scrambled eggs to the coffee table. His plate was buried under ketchup and hot sauce.
“White wine?” he asked.
“I must be in server heaven,” Helen said.
They sat side by side on Phil’s black leather couch. “It feels so good to sit here and enjoy my food,” Helen said, “without worrying that I’ll have to scrub heads and serve dinner at three a.m. Now, tell me what’s going on with Blossom and her boyfriend.”
“This will be show-and-tell,” Phil said. “I want to take you to the restaurant where she poisoned Surfer Dude.”
“Can’t wait to eat that food,” Helen said.
“We’ll eat somewhere else,” Phil said. “How about a midnight Mexican dinner?”
“But we’re eating now,” Helen said.
“This is a snack,” Phil said. “We missed lunch. We’ll leave right after we watch Valerie. It’s way up in Palm Beach County. You don’t want to miss the world’s best guacamole.”
Phil switched on Channel Seventy-seven. Donna, the blond late-night anchor, was as bland as baby food. “And now investigative reporter Valerie Cannata has the scoop on a Fort Lauderdale resident caught smuggling a fortune in jewels,” Donna said.