Norway to Hide
Page 22
“Picked up on what? Ooo, pictures.” She spun one around. “Nice one of Curtis and his camera.”
I studied another of the photos, plucking it off the table as I realized what was wrong with it. “Damn! Bernice isn’t the only one who bats right-handed. They’re going to arrest the wrong people.”
I ran from the library and charged around the corner to the main staircase. The stairs were clear, but the lower deck was gridlocked with passengers waiting to exit.
Changing direction, I sprinted up to the promenade deck and pushed through the bulkhead door to the rail that overlooked the gangway. Forklifts were already hrrrming. Car engines were idling. Passengers were pouring onto the quay in endless numbers.
I spied Nana’s white hair in the crowd and George’s green-and-white Pioneer Seed cap. They were stepping off the gangway, directly in front of Annika, and behind them was—
“Stop him!” I shouted. “The man in the navy blue jacket! He’s a killer!”
Passengers glanced up at me. I heard a rumble of unease. Footsteps slowing. Heads turning. “Grab him before he gets away!”
A tall man on the perimeter of the crowd caught Curtis by the scruff of his neck. “Not him!” I shouted, doing a double take. Etienne? How had he gotten here so fast? “The other guy!” I yelled, pointing frenetically. “Him!”
Etienne tackled Reno and brought him down like a felled tree amid screams and shouts. Oh, dear.
“Nana!” I shouted, making a megaphone of my hands. “Vern! It’s Vern! He’s behind you!”
She pitched her pocketbook to George, dropped into a predatory stance, made a wavy gesture with her hands, and with a banshee cry of “Eeeeyaaaa!” jumped straight up in the air and spun around like a top, smacking her foot into Vern’s face. He swayed precariously for a half second before falling flat on his face.
Ouch. That had to hurt.
Jackie came up behind me. “What was that? Another flying drop kick?”
“Spinning roundhouse,” I said. “She likes to mix it up.”
CHAPTER 17
Two days later, at nine-fifteen in the morning, the atmosphere aboard ship was bubbling over with festivity. Neptune, costumed in flowing robes and wielding a rubber trident, dumped ice cubes down our backs, after which we toasted him with shots of strong liquor and much laughter.
We’d just crossed the Arctic Circle.
Nana handed me a couple of Polaroids of the metal sphere that marked the imaginary latitudinal line. “I seen a globe exactly like this back in sixty-four when your grampa and me took your mother to the world’s fair. Only it wasn’t perched on no rock in the middle a the ocean. It was in Queens. They called it a unisphere.”
We were sitting in the panoramic lounge, with the signs of the zodiac painted like a giant Wheel of Fortune on the ceiling above us and ice cubes melting at our feet. “I hope you never part with your camera, Nana. It saved the day.”
“You was the one what saved the day, dear. Don’t know if I ever woulda noticed Vern catchin’ that tube a sunblock with his right hand.”
“Everyone made such a big deal about his being a lefty. No one ever noticed he became a righty after he took his pain meds.”
“Hard to imagine them pills made his left hand shake so much that he had to learn to write with the other one. I guess that’s why his handwritin’ never matched up with them samples the police took.”
I nodded. “He must have written the note before he took his meds, and given the writing sample after taking them. But the pills eased his knee pain, which allowed him to maneuver pain-free for the length of time it took to kill Portia and Gus.”
“You s’pose we’ll ever know how he done it exactly?”
“Annika says he was extremely uncooperative with the police. He wouldn’t give them any details because he said his methods are a military secret that would jeopardize national security if revealed. The only thing he admitted was that if Portia hadn’t knocked on his door that night in Helsinki and asked him to escort her to the sauna, none of this would have happened.” I shook my head. “Sounds like his defense is going to be that it was all Portia’s fault.”
“Has anyone figured out how come he didn’t leave no fingerprints on that note?”
“Gloves. It came in handy that he’d packed for cold weather.”
“You think he was wearin’ them gloves when he killed Gus? Is that why there wasn’t no marks on his hands?”
“I doubt he needed gloves. Vern’s knees were bad, but there was nothing wrong with his upper-body strength. Gus had pretty much gone to seed, so Vern just overpowered him.”
“I still can’t believe a fella would kill anyone over Scrabble.”
“It’s all he had left. His knees kept him from cycling, kayaking, horseback riding, and being the cha-cha king. He couldn’t even beat the Peabody sisters in a speed drinking contest.”
“He lassoed that reindeer real good.”
“Yeah, but how many reindeer herders live in Florida? He was accustomed to being the best at everything he did. So when his body started to fail him and he had to become more sedentary, he set his sights on being the Scrabble king.”
“But Portia and Gus was better players than him.”
“President and vice president of the Scrabble club, according to the brochure, so he needed to take them out so he could be first at something again.”
“Knee replacements woulda been smarter.”
“He had both knees replaced, but he had such a horrible experience, he swore he’d never go through it a second time.”
Nana stuffed her photos back into her pocketbook. “He was probably wishin’ the world would end so he wouldn’t get caught.”
“I’m not so sure. I think he was arrogant enough to assume that if he disappeared in one of the larger ports, like Trondheim, he might never get caught. So it’s a good thing we stopped him when we did.” I glanced around the lounge. “Have you seen Etienne? Or Jackie?” I frowned. “Or anyone?”
“How ’bout your young man?” Nana continued. “Charterin’ a jet instead a flyin’ commercial. Isn’t that romantic?”
“Expensive,” I whispered. “Especially when we have a wedding to pay for.”
Nana made eye contact with someone behind me and popped out of her chair, tittering breathlessly. “You gotta come with me,” she said, hauling me to my feet.
“Where are we going?”
“You can’t ask questions. You just gotta follow me.”
She tugged on my hand, guiding me through the upper deck bar area, where Curtis and Lauretta sat side by side on a sofa, studying a sheet of handwritten notes.
“What about August twenty-fourth?” asked Curtis. “It could happen then, right?”
Lauretta shook her head. “I’m leaning more toward October tenth.”
“You thought it was going to happen on October tenth last year. Or November fifth, or December first, or—”
“Are you fussing at me for being wrong, Curtis Klick? Do you want to be reminded how many times you’ve been wrong?” She snapped the paper with a flourish. “July twenty-second, nineteen-eighty-two. April twelfth, nineteen-eighty-five. December twenty-fifth, nineteen-eighty-six. Remember that Christmas? We didn’t even bother to put up a tree!”
George was waiting for us just inside the door to the sundeck. “All set,” he said, handing me a nosegay of daisies and yellow sweetheart roses.
“Why George Farkas, how sweet!” I sniffed the flowers and smiled. “What’s the occasion?”
“Can’t say. It’s a surprise.” He cracked the bulkhead door, signaled with his cap, then held the door wide for us as the strains of chamber music floated throughout the stern.
I listened with delight. “Is that the Pachelbel Canon in D?”
“It’s four Germans in monkey suits playing violins,” said Nana. “There isn’t no organ on board, so it was either the Germans or an old guy with a kazoo.”
“This is the song I want played at the wedding.�
�� I dipped and bobbed my head to the flow of the music. “How do you think it’ll sound on an accordion?”
She ushered me past unoccupied chairs along the rail, and when the deck opened up to its full width, I stopped…and gasped.
The whole group was here, standing excitedly on both sides of a makeshift aisle, grinning like Cheshire cats. The captain stood at the aft rail in full uniform, flanked by Jackie and Tilly, who wore surprisingly well-coordinated outfits and held nosegays that looked like the centerpieces from the dining salon. Etienne stood off to the side, elegantly European in a black sport coat and turtleneck, his blue eyes locked onto mine with heartstopping intensity.
“Oh, my God, Nana, when did?—How did?—”
“We can make things happen when we gotta. Even Bernice. She bought your flowers, and she didn’t even fuss about havin’ to pay full price.”
“But what about Mom and Dad? My church wedding? My—”
“You can have your church weddin’ after Holy Redeemer gets rebuilt. And your mom and dad aren’t gonna miss a thing.” She nodded to an impressive-looking phone that was propped on a table beside Tilly. “Satellite phone. Compliments of the captain.”
“But what about blood tests? A marriage license? International laws governing—”
“Your young man seen to all that,” Nana assured me. “He said somethin’ about a cousin.” She squeezed my hand, tears welling in her eyes. “Ready?”
I brushed a tear from her cheek and hugged her close. “Ready.”
To the melodious strains of Johann Pachelbel, Nana escorted me down the aisle. She delivered me onto the arm of Etienne Miceli, who cupped his hands around my face and, in front of all who had gathered to witness this happy occasion, kissed me long and thoroughly.
“The kiss comes after the ceremony,” I laughed when I came up for air. “You’re supposed to wait.”
He gave me a steamy look. “On the contrary, bella. I’ve waited long enough.” Then to the enthusiastic applause of all on deck, he kissed me again.
Contents
TRASH TALK
G’DAY TO DIE
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17