The Chocolate Pirate Plot

by JoAnna Carl

  I nodded.

  Brenda spoke in a faint voice. “But why did he invite us along on the yacht?”

  I put an arm around each of them. “Because whenever Byron came in the shop, you two were nice to him, even though he was playing the part of a real nerd that no girl would be interested in.”

  “Oh.” They sounded unbelieving.

  “There’s a moral in there someplace, I guess. I’m not sure what it is.” I led them to seats in the salon. “Stick with me, kids. We’ll probably have to answer a lot of questions before we can leave.”

  But we didn’t. The state police met us at the dock, but there weren’t enough cops available to quiz all the bystanders. They took everybody’s phone number and told us to go home. Will had to stay and help tuck the yacht in for the night, but Aunt Nettie left along with me. Since Hogan was a law officer who had witnessed the kidnapping, he was staying at the boatyard. Joe would come in his truck.

  Before we left, Hogan spoke to the group, asking the rest of us not to say anything about the kidnapping.

  “It probably won’t be kept secret,” he said. “But for the moment, let’s keep it quiet. It won’t be easy, I know, but think how you’d feel if you were the one who leaked the news and Marco Spear was killed by the kidnappers.”

  That did make Brenda and Tracy look awed. A big tear oozed out of Tracy’s left eye.

  As we stepped onto the dock, I could hear the reporters haranguing Hogan. Keeping the kidnapping quiet wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe not even possible.

  When Aunt Nettie, Brenda, Tracy, and I were in the van, I looked at my watch. To my astonishment, it was only nine o’clock. So much had happened since we went on board that I felt like it ought to be midnight.

  But one thing that hadn’t happened was dinner.

  “I know I should be home wringing my hands,” I said. “And I am upset. But I’m also hungry. How about a pizza?”

  Everybody fell in with that idea. We called various boyfriends and husbands—it was good to be on shore and have decent cell phone service. Will and Carl, Tracy’s boyfriend, promised to join us when they could, and Joe said he’d meet us, too. We drove to the Dock Street Pizza Place, Warner Pier’s contribution to that all-American, Italian-inspired fun food, and we were able to shove two tables together to seat a party of seven. We ordered, and Joe, Will, and Carl had all arrived by the time the pizza was on the table.

  We were all chewing when the theater crowd walked in.

  In this case, the “theater crowd” was the cast and crew members from the Showboat Theater, rather than people who had attended a play. There were no performances that week. Rehearsals were going on for The Pirates of Penzance.

  There were eight in their group, and I was surprised at how many I knew. Maggie and Ken McNutt were there, and Max Morgan and Mikki White. There were another four people I didn’t know but had seen on stage. The waitress moved two tables together to accommodate them, so between the two groups—them and us—we’d taken over the center of the small restaurant.

  Maggie and Ken stopped to speak to us on the way in, and after their group had given its order, Max got up and walked around the tables to speak to Joe and me.

  “Did I hear that you two went out on the new yacht?”

  “Yes, we were lucky enough to get an invitation,” Joe said.

  “Pretty impressive, I imagine.”

  “I’d call it spectacular.”

  Max leaned closer and lowered his voice. “That weird guy was back tonight. The one I think is from Chicago. He was looking for Jeremy again.”

  “The man you thought might be a loan shark?”

  “Right.” Max frowned. “He’s a real strange one.”

  “Did you call the cops?”

  “What can I tell them? We have a patron who creeps me out? That’s not a crime. Besides, I already told the local gendarmes about him.”

  “What did he do this time?”

  “We were rehearsing the first-act finale. I looked up, and there he was, sitting in the back row, just watching. I felt, you know, as if I had to assert myself, so at the end of the scene I walked back there and told him to leave.”

  “Did he?”

  “First he quizzed me about Jeremy again. Had we heard from him? Was the search continuing?”

  “But he did leave?”

  “Yes. But he did it . . . insolently.”

  “Did you get his license number?”

  “No. I followed him to the door, but I couldn’t read it. He’d covered it up some way.”

  “I think you should talk to Hogan about the episode. The search for Jeremy is still going on.”

  “Surely the guy will quit coming around when he figures out that Jeremy is gone for good.”

  “You think Jeremy is dead?”

  “Oh, no! I’m convinced Jeremy knew the Chicago guy was after him and took off for parts unknown.” Max knelt beside Joe. “Meanwhile, I’m glad you two had a nice evening. Did the Oxford people confirm that the new yacht belongs to Marco Spear?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  Max shrugged. “Still, a few hors d’oeuvres, a pitcher of something cold and exotic, and a cruise are worth something.”

  He rejoined his own group.

  I muttered to Joe, “Are you still skeptical about this so-called loan shark?”

  “Yep.”

  We ate pizza and talked with our group for the next twenty minutes. Everyone kept their voices low, of course. Carl had to be told about the kidnapping, but Tracy swore him to secrecy. I didn’t have much hope that the news wouldn’t get out. When more than a dozen people knew—and five of them were newsmen—there simply wasn’t a hope. But I didn’t want to be the one who blew it.

  So when I saw Mikki coming around the table, apparently planning to speak to me, I hurriedly poked Brenda as a hint that she should change the subject.

  I was still angry with Mikki for giving me the runaround when I went to the theater to pick up Jill. I spoke to her, but I didn’t exactly gush out a welcome.

  “Hi, Mikki. Has Jill turned up?”

  “No, but she’s supposed to be back tomorrow.” She knelt beside my chair. “I’m sorry, Ms. Woodyard. I apologize for all that. Jill asked me to do it.”

  “Why?”

  “She said she needed to meet someone. She didn’t want to give the police chief a big explanation. She went out the front while I kept you in the back.”

  “She could have told me. Hogan was just trying to save her embarrassment by sending me to pick her up, instead of a patrol car.”

  “Well, I wanted to apologize to you.”

  “Apology accepted,” I said. I kept the word “maybe” to myself. It was time to change the subject.

  “You’re working on The Pirates of Penzance now, aren’t you? How are your rehearsals going?”

  “Tonight was underwear. I mean, understudies.”

  I managed not to laugh. Again I realized that Mikki had the same affliction I do.

  “I’m understudying Jill as Mabel,” she said. “Mostly I’m one of the cousins. Tonight was kind of different, since Maggie was in charge.”

  “Oh? I didn’t know she was taking that important a part.”

  “She doesn’t usually. But she’s really good. Of course, the play’s a lot of fun. But Max wants us to play it straight.”

  “Straight?”

  “Yes, he says it’s funnier that way.”

  I racked my brain for something to say about Gilbert and Sullivan. “I guess it’s hard not to make a play that old seem dated.”

  “The lines are very clever. Max says it’s important for it not to be campy . . .” To my surprise, Mikki’s face grew red. Was she blushing? But she went on talking. “I mean, well, Max wants it straight.”

  She blinked rapidly. “Hal’s folks came today. You know, to get him. Take him home. I felt really sorry for them.”

  I nodded. I felt sorry for them, too. Sorry enough that I tried to change the subject again
.

  “Has anybody figured out where Hal was working after he left the theater in June?”

  “Not that I know of. Our food’s here. Guess I’d better go.” She stood up.

  I spoke. “Thanks for the piecemeal—I mean, peacemaking!” Now I’d done it. Tangled my tongue. Mikki and I might be twins. “Thanks for the peacemaking gesture.”

  Mikki looked pained. “I shouldn’t have let Jill talk me into it. I don’t mean to be campy . . .” Mikki’s face flamed. It was more than a blush; it was a conflagration. She turned a brilliant scarlet. “I mean, catty! I didn’t mean to be catty.”

  She muttered a few more words and went back to her own table, where pizzas were being served.

  Her remarks had left me with a sense that I’d missed something. Something she’d said had tickled some memory deep in my brain, but I couldn’t get the memory to surface. I went into a fog, trying to figure it out.

  We worked on our own pizzas for a while, and Brenda and Will had another of their arguments about Marco Spear’s acting ability. I was so deep in my own thoughts that I ignored them until Brenda said, “I would think, Will, that tonight of all nights—”

  “Brenda!” I hissed the word, afraid she was going to blurt out something about the kidnapping within earshot of the theater crowd at the next table. After that narrow escape, we all fell so silent that when my cell phone rang the sound made me jump.

  I nearly threw the phone to the floor trying to dig it out of my purse and look at it. Hogan was calling. “Lee? Is Nettie with you?”

  “Yes. We all went out to get something to eat.”

  “Where the hell are you?”

  I looked at the phone with raised eyebrows. Hogan never swore. He must be really upset.

  “We’re at the Dock Street, Hogan. Do you want us to meet you somewhere?”

  “No. I’ll come there.”

  He hung up.

  I told Aunt Nettie he was on the way; then I quietly described the call to Joe. “I’ve never heard him so mad, Joe. Annoyed, yes. But this time he was really angry.”

  “Sounds as if the state police bounced him.”

  I winced. Yes, Hogan liked being in charge in his own town. He kept a very friendly relationship with the Michigan State Police, but Joe could be right. In a case involving a crime that was sure to draw national attention, the state police might take over. Heck, the FBI could be taking over, and either agency could cut Hogan right out, even though the kidnapping occurred within his jurisdiction.

  Besides, he’d been a witness to the kidnapping. The situation had to be humiliating for him.

  So I waited for Hogan with some trepidation. But when he came in, he was his usual completely controlled self. He was definitely off duty, though. I could tell because he immediately ordered a small pepperoni pizza and a Labatt Blue to go with it. Hogan would never drink on duty.

  Luckily, the younger generation was pretty much through eating, so Will, Carl, Tracy, and Brenda all left almost immediately.

  Aunt Nettie, Hogan, Joe, and I gathered into a more compact group, and Hogan told us that the FBI had already been called in. “And I’m out,” he said. “Completely. They won’t even use my office as HQ.”

  “That’s stupid of them,” I said. “You know this town inside and out.”

  My sympathy didn’t seem to be a lot of comfort. “I may know Warner Pier, but they know everything,” Hogan said grimly.

  “It’s pretty obvious that the pirates took Marco off the yacht,” Joe said.

  I nodded. “That chest obviously must have been a piece of professional magic gear with a false bottom. All I can figure is that Marco met them on the swim platform and got into the chest voluntarily.”

  Joe nodded. “He could have ducked into the garage and waited for them. He probably figured he’d pop out of the chest at the end of the act. But the pirates didn’t let him out.”

  “How could they keep him in it?”

  “There was a hypodermic needle in the garage, so we assume they drugged him,” Hogan said quietly. “Then we all stood around and applauded while they carried him off the yacht. And they cut the power to the radar so we couldn’t keep track of which direction they went.”

  “How could they do that?”

  “Somebody messed with the electrical panel. But that’s not readily accessible to visitors on board.”

  “When did it go out?” Joe said.

  “The captain’s not sure. Everybody got distracted by the pirates’ show.”

  “Could they have asked Marco to cut the power off himself?”

  Hogan shrugged. “When Marco comes back, we’ll ask him.”

  We were all silent for a moment. Then Joe spoke. “The next question is, where have they hidden him now?”

  “That’s why the feds think I’m just some stupid hick cop,” Hogan said. “The pirates have been operating all summer. They’ve got to have a place to hide that inflatable dinghy and all their gear. But we’ve never figured out where.”

  “But, Hogan,” Nettie said, “until tonight they weren’t suspected of any crime. If you’d tried to track them down, you’d have been interfering with their constitutional rights.”

  “That doesn’t cut much ice with the feds. Or with me, for that matter. I didn’t need to arrest them, but I ought to know what’s going on in my own town.”

  “It seems as if they’d need a fairly large place,” Aunt Nettie said. “A boathouse would be best. Plus a place where three or four people could hide out for several days, since they’ll need guards.”

  Joe chuckled, but it wasn’t a humorous sound. “Sounds like my shop.”

  “No, Joe, your shop isn’t remote enough,” I said. “The neighbors could hear yelling from over there. Besides, you just have a dock, not a boathouse. I’ve always thought it was funny that boathouses are common back in Texas, where the weather is warm, and rare up here, where boats really need protection.”

  Joe nodded. “Our boats need so much protection in the winter that we hoist them out of the water. For other seasons, a tarp is enough cover.”

  I stared at the shaker of Parmesan cheese in the center of the table. We all sat glumly.

  The theater group got up to leave, and Maggie and Ken stopped to talk. I tried to force myself to act normal. “Maggie! I hear you were directing tonight.”

  “Max came in toward the end.”

  “I did have a question. Mikki said Max didn’t want The Pirates of Penzance to be campy. How can it not be? Isn’t that the whole point of Pirates?”

  I’ll never know what Maggie answered, because as soon as the last sentence was out of my mouth I knew.

  I knew where Marco was, and I knew who had kidnapped him.

  Chapter 22

  I thought Maggie and Ken were never going to leave. They kept standing there talking about comic opera, and I wanted to talk to Hogan about real life.

  Hogan was eating pepperoni pizza, Aunt Nettie was drinking coffee, and Joe was finishing his beer. They were as worried as I was about Marco Spear, but each of them was managing to look placid in front of Maggie and Ken, who knew nothing about the kidnapping.

  I don’t know what I looked like, but internally I was a Texas tornado. My brain was whirling. I wanted to scream. Joe tells me I acted okay, although when Maggie told me that the character of the general in The Pirates of Penzance is supposedly based on an actual British military leader, I said, “Was the real guy a barleycorn? I mean, a baritone?” I guess Maggie left after that one. The comment certainly enhanced my reputation as the biggest ditz in Warner Pier.

  As soon as Maggie and Ken were out the door, I leaned in toward the center of the table. I tried to whisper, but I may have hollered.

  “Hogan! I know where they’re hiding Marco!”

  He didn’t react as enthusiastically as I’d hoped. In fact, Hogan, Joe, and Aunt Nettie all looked as me as if I had completely lost my mind.

  “I mean it!” I said. “I just realized it. I’m sure I know.” />
  Hogan spoke calmly. “Okay, Lee. Tell us about it.”

  Suddenly I remembered why I had never told Hogan about my visit to Camp Sail-Along. It had included one of the most embarrassing moments in my entire life. But now I had to reveal all.

  I sighed. “I didn’t tell you about this, but last week I took a drive out to Camp Sail-Along.”

  “Exactly where is that?” Joe said.

  “What is it?” Aunt Nettie said.

  “Why?” Hogan said.

  I answered Hogan’s question. “Because of Jeremy’s T-shirt,” I said.

  Quickly I explained that Jeremy had come into my office to bring Max a message, and he’d been wearing a Camp Sail-Along T-shirt.

  “So after Joe and I became convinced that Jeremy had deliberately involved us in his fake drowning, I went out to the camp to ask if they knew anything about Jeremy, and I said something stupid.”

  I described my conversation with Jack McGrath, and how it had ended with an unusually awful slip of the tongue.

  Aunt Nettie said, “Oh, dear, Lee!” Hogan drank some of his beer, obviously trying to hide a smile.

  Joe laughed. “I shouldn’t let you out alone,” he said. “And I wouldn’t, if I didn’t know you’re smart enough to get yourself out of these messes.”

  “In the Camp Sail-Along case, I jumped in the van and drove off,” I said. “But I didn’t think I’d accomplished anything, except feeling sorry for Jack McGrath and humiliating myself, so I didn’t mention the trip except to Joe. And I didn’t tell him the embarrassing part.”

  “Why are you bringing it up now?”

  “Partly because Camp Sail-Along—boathouse and lonely cabins . . . lonely cabins with padlocks on the doors—meets Aunt Nettie’s description of the place needed to hold Marco prisoner until they get the ransom settled. And partly because I just placed the guy who looked familiar in that gymnastics team picture. The one that had Jeremy and Hal in it.”

  “Who else was in it?”

  “Jack McGrath. The manager of Camp Sail-Along. He’s older, of course, and he’s grown a mustache.”

  “But, Lee, you looked at the cutline of that picture.”

  “No, Hogan, I didn’t. You handed it to me, and I looked at Jeremy. I read his name—Matlock—and realized he was using Mattox as an alias. But before I read the rest of the names, Joe came in and told us he’d once represented Hal Weldon. I forgot all about the cutline. So I never realized the picture included Jack McGrath.