Feta Attraction

by Susannah Hardy

  “Georgie,” one of them rasped. “Cut the engine!”

  The engine. Of course! I scanned the console. Okay, if I were a throttle on a tall ship, where would I be?

  “I can’t find it!”

  “Keep looking! And keep steering!” I still didn’t know which of them was talking to me, but it didn’t matter.

  I glanced back and forth between the console and the rapidly approaching bridge. Was that it? It had to be it. I said a little prayer, then jammed down the lever as fast as I could. I heard a thud; then we were all whiplashed forward and back. The two men on the floor rolled right up against the console at my feet. I glanced down and saw that Jack had ended up on top. He landed a barrage of heavy blows to Keith’s gut, and I heard the wind rush out of him. “Georgie, hand me that line!”

  I tossed him the coil of rope that was within my reach and he deftly trussed up Keith while he was still gagging and coughing. Jack got up, panting, and dragged Keith, still struggling but unable to get a purchase, over to a chair. I turned back to the water ahead of me. The boat had slowed but our momentum was carrying us forward.

  “Untie me, Conway, now! You don’t know what’s at stake!”

  We were right at the bridge. I closed my eyes involuntarily. A muffled wooden crack like the sound of a baseball bat being broken sounded high above us. I opened my eyes and we were on the other side of the bridge, passing the Port of Ogdensburg at a slower and slower pace. I couldn’t see behind us but I hoped that no drivers going over the bridge were injured.

  “You’ve ruined my boat! You’ve ruined everything!” Keith yelled.

  “Shut up,” Jack said calmly, and hauled off and smacked him in the jaw. Keith’s head lolled to one side as he lost consciousness.

  “What did I do?” I was starting to panic again.

  “You did fine,” Jack reassured me. “I’ll go out onto the deck and take a look at the damage.”

  “Can I come with you? I don’t want to stay in here alone with him.”

  “He’s not going anywhere. And somebody’s got to drive the ship, Georgie.”

  Oh, yeah. “Well, hurry up, okay?”

  He grinned at me, his lower lip already swollen on one side. His smile was devastating, despite the injury, and I felt a little flutter in the pit of my stomach. Get a grip, Georgie, I told myself. You almost took out the Can-Am bridge driving a ship full of illegal drugs and nearly killed yourself and who knows how many other people. Now is not the time. The boat was now drifting along with the river current and all I had to do was keep a steady course down the middle. Jack brushed back a lock of my hair that had fallen in my face and I could see that his knuckles were raw and already bruising. I looked up into his blue-green eyes, and he looked into mine. He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. My breath caught and it was a second or two before I could draw in air again. He massaged his thumb across my upper lip and pulled it away, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. A dark oily smudge covered both digits.

  “I’ve never kissed a woman with a mustache before,” he commented. “Well, except my great-aunt Tillie. Hers was more prickly.”

  Damn! I must look ridiculous, I thought, as the heat rushed toward my hairline. I put my own finger to my lip and rubbed, probably making it even worse, as if that were possible. I was too mortified to speak.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he assured me. “You’re beautiful even with fake facial hair.”

  I blushed again.

  “I’m going above to check the masts. Just keep a steady course and keep the red nuns to your port side.”

  “Huh, what’s a nun?” I looked for some kind of black-and-white object, but didn’t see anything.

  “Those nuns, the red bullet-shaped buoys—see over there? Just keep them to your left, and keep the green can buoys to your right, and you’ll be fine.”

  I located the channel markers and nodded. Jack went upstairs. I steered us on, although we were just drifting along at this point, so it wasn’t too hard. Keith groaned but didn’t regain consciousness. I had to hope Jack’s knots would hold—well, he was a sailor, right?

  Jack reappeared in the doorway. “You didn’t do too badly, all things considered. You clipped the bridge with the main mast. The mast is cracked, but I think it’ll hold until we get to port if we keep the sail furled.”

  “What about the bridge?”

  “It’s still standing, if that’s what you mean.”

  I guessed that would have to be good enough. “Where are all your men? The ones who are waiting to take him away?” I nodded in Keith’s direction.

  “Err, there’s something I should tell you about that,” he said.

  “Like what?” I’d still not gotten rid of my suspicion that he knew more than he was telling me. The muscles of my shoulders tensed into tight knots.

  “I’m sort of here by myself.”

  “You were bluffing?” I was incredulous. “What about the rest of the crew of this ship?”

  “As I said, I secured them.”

  “What do you mean, ‘secured’?” That ever-present lump of panic resurfaced.

  “Relax, Georgie. I didn’t kill anybody, if that’s what you mean. I just tied them all up. Somebody already started the job for me belowdecks,” he added. “I found one of them facedown on the boards, out cold.”

  The guilt struck me again. “He’s just a kid. We should get him to the ER when we land this thing. By the way, when are we landing?”

  “We’ve already left the Burg behind, and to be honest”—he grinned—“I’ve always wanted to sail one of these things. I think we’ll head farther downriver and put in at Massena. I’d love to try to get this through the Eisenhower Locks, but I guess we’ll have to forgo that bit of fun,” he said regretfully.

  “You do know that we’re carrying a full cargo of drugs?”

  “I do. Here, do you mind if I take over?”

  Did I mind? I moved aside and he took my place in the captain’s chair. He restarted the engine and leaned back, resting his hand on the wheel.

  “This would be a lot more fun if we could use the sails instead of the engines,” he mused, “but I’d need a competent crew to work the rigging. Still, you don’t get to do this every day, now, do you?” He smiled and drove us along.

  “You didn’t happen to notice a bathroom on this thing?” At this point all sense of personal dignity had drained away from me, but I wanted to see whether I could freshen up a little before we docked and I rejoined humanity on dry land.

  “It’s called the head, Georgie, and I think I saw one toward the stern.” He paused, registering my blank stare. “The back of the boat,” he said. “I’ll make a sailor of you yet.” He gave me that devastating, temporarily damaged smile again and I nearly melted into a puddle right there on the deck.

  I passed the still-unconscious Keith, resisting the urge to give him a kick in the shins, and exited the cabin door, toward the back of the boat. I located the head and entered. I closed my eyes and raised my face to the mirror, opened my eyes, then closed them up tight again. It was as bad, no, worse, than I had feared. My hair was an Einstein mess, frizzed out into an unflattering and unnatural shape. I made my fingers into combs and tried to smooth out the tangled mess. This was going to require a lot of conditioner when I got home. I found some soap and made a lather in my hands, then scrubbed at the greasy black smudge across my lip. The lather turned gray and oily and I looked back in the mirror to see that the smudge was now less intense but had expanded onto both cheeks. I rinsed off my hands and started again. This time, with some scrubbing, the makeup came off, leaving fresh pink skin underneath.

  I put the toilet seat down and sat on the closed lid, trying to collect myself. I should have felt relieved, but I was still keyed up. After a few deep breaths, my heart rate slowed to an acceptable level. I went out onto the deck into the fr
esh air and headed up toward the cabin. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. Not again! I thought. What now? I returned to the cabin. Jack was practically humming at the wheel.

  “Hey, Georgie, you’re back! Did you find it?” He spun around in the chair and his face froze. “Brian!?”

  “Uncle Jack?”

  TWENTY-SIX

  I looked behind me. There was the tall gangly kid who had kidnapped me. He was rubbing his head.

  “Get in here right now!” Jack ordered. The boy lifted his chin in defiance. “Brian, move it!” He gave in, probably from force of habit being raised in a military family, and stepped into the interior of the cabin. “Take off that stupid wig and get over here.” He stood up. Brian moved closer. Jack took a step toward him and wrapped him in a bear hug. “You dope! What the hell are you doing? I’ve been worried sick about you!”

  Brian hung his head. “I’m sorry, Uncle Jack.”

  “Sorry doesn’t cut it. Why haven’t you called me? What are you doing mixed up in this mess?”

  “I heard about the Acres and I thought it sounded like a nice place to go, you know, to get my head together after Dad died.” His voice faltered and when it returned, it was just above a whisper. “Then they offered me this extra job, you know, loading the barrels.”

  “Do you know what’s in the barrels?” Jack’s voice was wary.

  “I know they’re damn heavy!” He turned to me. “Sorry, ma’am.” He tapped his foot nervously. “But the barrels were all sealed up, so no, I don’t know what’s in ’em. They just asked me to move them from the veggie truck onto this ship last night.”

  Last night? The ship just sailed over from Canada a few hours ago; I’d seen it from the park.

  As if he’d read my mind, he continued. “I guess they brought it over in the middle of the night, and then I came down and helped load it up. Then they sailed it back across, and came back again this morning.”

  I believed, or wanted to believe, that he hadn’t known what he was doing. But Jack could deal with him and decide whether to turn him in to the police.

  Up ahead white smoke billowed from the smokestacks at the aluminum plants at Massena. Jack pushed a button on the console and spoke up. “Harbormaster, this is Captain Jack Conway from the Coast Guard.”

  “Roger that.” The voice was staticky but understandable. “Captain Jack? Are you kidding?” I thought I heard a snicker.

  Jack ignored the remark. “Harbormaster, I’ve recovered the tall ship stolen from Bonaparte Bay. I’ve called the Coast Guard station and they are sending a team to secure the ship and its cargo. I’ll need a deep water mooring, so I’ll be anchoring offshore, not at the docks. Please clear the area so the team can do their work.”

  “Roger, will do.”

  “And call the state police and have them send a couple of cars. I’ve got some people on board they’ll be interested in.”

  I glanced over at Brian. His head jerked up and he cut his eyes to Jack.

  Jack shut down the engine and the heavy anchor scraped the bottom of the St. Lawrence. The ship glided to a gradual stop about a hundred yards offshore.

  “Georgie, this is where you get off.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m going to need to stay here and get things cleared up.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” I hadn’t thought this far ahead. How was I going to get home? It wasn’t like there was any kind of regularly running public transportation in the North Country, and we were at least fifty miles from the Bay.

  “Do you have somebody you can call to come and get you?” Jack asked.

  I considered. Keith, still tied up and unconscious in the corner of the cabin, was certainly out of the question. Sophie wouldn’t drive this far and Dolly would be busy at the restaurant. It would take Liza too long to get here, and I wouldn’t want to take her away from the island in the middle of the day. Russ? No, I wouldn’t be asking him for any more favors. I wondered what was happening at home and felt an overpowering urge to get there as soon as I could.

  “I’ll find a ride. You do what you need to do here.”

  He stood up and came closer to me. “You are an amazing woman—you know that?” He put his arms around me in a protective hug and then pulled back enough to look down at me.

  I screwed up my courage and looked up into his face. He pushed my hair back over one shoulder and bent down. His lips were on mine, his kiss soft and warm. I closed my eyes and let him kiss me. And then I kissed him back. I could get used to this, I thought. I’d like to get used to this.

  * * *

  We launched a small rowboat over the side. I climbed down the rope ladder and into the craft. I clipped on a life jacket and reached for the oars. “Wait, Georgie,” Jack called out. “Brian, row her over to shore and wait for me. Find something to do, because I’m going to be a while, but you’d better be there when I come ashore.”

  “Okay, Uncle Jack.” He boarded the little boat and took the oars. Deep fatigue settled into my bones and I fought to keep my eyes open. I had already decided I wouldn’t be pressing charges against this boy for kidnapping me, but I had a feeling that Jack was going to hold him accountable for his actions. I hoped he’d be able to avoid a criminal record.

  The thought stopped me cold. I hoped I’d be able to avoid a criminal record. We had Big Dom’s killer, so I would be cleared of that suspicion, but there was still the matter of my having done some breaking and entering. Oh, yeah, and ditching a State Trooper. At least he didn’t know about the bag of dope and that jug of maple syrup Inky had.

  We pulled up to shore and I climbed up onto the wooden docks. Brian tied off the pram and followed me. I unfastened my life vest and dropped it down into the little boat, where it landed with a soft thud. Brian took his vest with him, laid it down on the end of a park bench in front of the harbormaster’s office, and put his head on it, curling his long legs up onto the wooden slats. He closed his eyes and it looked like he intended to sleep until Jack came back to deliver his punishment, whatever that would be. Couldn’t say I blamed him. I’d been up for a lot of hours, and I’d love to go to sleep myself.

  “Sorry,” he said to me. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks, Brian. I hope your head’s all right.”

  He mumbled something and shifted on the bench before settling into sleep.

  I headed toward an official-looking building. The entire wall facing the water was plate glass. Bright blue lights whirled on top of police cruisers beyond in the parking lot. Sirens screamed in the distance. I wondered how long it would take Channel 7 to get a news crew here from Watertown. They’d have to hustle since it was at least a sixty-mile drive. I opened the glass doors of the harbormaster’s office, intending to ask to use a telephone to call a cab, which was going to cost me a fortune.

  “Hello, Georgie,” a sickeningly familiar voice drawled. I would have spun on my heel and walked out if I thought I could have gotten away with it. As I turned around, my nervous face was reflected in the mirrored sunglasses of my favorite State Trooper.

  A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down. “Hello,” I squeaked. I cleared my throat.

  “Nice to see you again.” The voice was deep and scary, just like I remembered it. He could have a nice second career doing voice-overs for horror movies.

  “Uh, you too.” Damn! I was destined to spend the night in the county lockup. I just knew it. No, wait. Liza would come and bail me out. I was cheered by that thought, anyway.

  Detective Hawthorne lowered his chin and peered at me over the tops of his glasses. He had big dark eyes that showed no emotion at all, fringed with extra-long eyelashes. Such a waste on a guy. “Need a ride home?” he asked.

  “Er, well, yes, I do, as a matter of fact. I don’t have my cell phone, so I was just about to borrow one from somebody here.”

  “Who were you going
to call? Your colorful friend? Maybe you could stop for Chinese food on the way home,” he suggested drily. “How about I give you a ride, and you and I can have a little chat?” It didn’t sound like a request, more like an order.

  “Sure, that would be nice.” I hoped I sounded sincere. My heart was pounding. I summoned up a smile and followed him to the parking lot, where he opened the back door of his unmarked cruiser. He spared me the indignity of pressing my head down with his hand as I got into the car. Even better, he hadn’t cuffed me and the news crew hadn’t arrived yet.

  Once inside, I had to admit this was sort of interesting. Embarrassing and terrifying, but interesting. I’d always wondered what it was like in the back of a police car, and here I was, staring at the pattern made by the metal mesh screen separating me from the detective. I hoped nobody I knew saw me. Fat chance of that, I thought ruefully. Living in the North Country is like living in a reality television show where anybody can just tune in to your life anytime, then discuss it around the watercooler. Sophie would have heard about this before we even left the Massena town limits.

  We drove back along the river toward the Bay, the Trooper lecturing me all the way. It was all I could do to stay awake, between the drone of his voice, the lull of the asphalt, and the fact that I hadn’t slept in more than twenty-four hours. I pressed a fingernail into my palm, then jerked myself awake with the pain. A livid crescent appeared where I’d inflicted the wound, and I shook my hand to dissipate the ache. It hurt, but at least I was awake. Until I dozed off again.

  Finally we pulled into the parking lot of the Bonaparte House. Wait. The restaurant? He wasn’t taking me to jail? I should have been paying more attention to his monologue on the way home. Maybe I could have saved myself some needless worrying.

  “. . . so don’t leave town. This investigation is going to take a while, and I’m going to want to talk to you. Sorry I had to make you ride in the back, but it’s procedure.” Relief washed over me as he exited the car and came around to open my door. He offered me a hand and I pulled myself out into the open air. “I’ll be in touch soon.”