by Lyle Howard
Nicky the Knife shook his head. “Kinda young for you, ain’t he, Detective?”
“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. Matthew is working as a kind of consultant to the department, and I wanted him to introduce him to the underbelly of our city firsthand.”
Jimmy Diaz chimed in. “There’s no need for that kind of talk, Detective. Everyone is here to have a good time and share in Peter Mason’s good fortune. Why don’t we try to table our animosity for tonight? Would you like to dance?”
The band had taken a break for dinner, but Lionel Ritchie’s “Truly” was playing through the speakers on the stage. The Detective looked at Matt. “Why don’t you introduce yourself to Mr. Coltello while I dance with Mr. Diaz.”
Jimmy Diaz took Lauren by the hand and escorted her to the dancefloor. She tried to maintain her space, but Diaz pulled her close.
“Have a seat,” Nicky told Matt. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look kinda familiar.”
Matt assumed Coltello had been at the ballgame too. “Sorry, but I don’t think so.”
“What the hell is the matter with your voice?”
Matt held the letter “D” up to his ear. “I’m deaf. I’m reading your lips. I’m sorry if you’re not understanding me.”
“Holy shit,” Nicky exclaimed. “I’ll be damned. And you’re reading my lips right now?”
Matt nodded.
“And if I turn my head like this?”
“Excuse me?”
Nicky laughed. “That’s fucking hysterical!”
“I don’t know what you’re saying if you turn your face from me.”
“The J.P.D must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel if they’re hiring retards now. Wait till this news gets around!”
Matt had dealt with it all before, but there had to be a reason why the Detective had left him alone with this ignorant asshole. There had to be something she wanted him to find out. “Excuse me, Mr. Coltello,” Matt said, courteously. “My ears can’t hear, much in the same way that your brain can’t think. It’s just the cross we both have to bare.”
It was apparent from the vacant look on Nicky’s face that he wasn’t sure if he had just been insulted or not. “No hard feelings, kid. You’re just the first deaf person I ever met, ” Nicky admitted, as he held out his hand to shake in a gesture of seldom felt empathy.
The minute flesh touched flesh, Matt began to convulse. His eyes rolled back into his head, and the connection was unyielding. Nicky Coltello’s felt like his hand was caught in a vise. Something was happening that he didn’t like. He tried to pry the kid’s hand loose, but it only made the kid tighten his grip with more resolve. He was reaching for his serrated dinner knife when Jimmy Diaz, the Detective, and Simone Goldman came running across the dance floor.
“This fucking kid won’t let go of my hand!” Nicky howled. “What the fuck is going on? What’s he doing to me?”
Simone stepped in and cupped Matt’s face in her hands. She put her cheek next to his and could feel that he was cold and clammy. She ran her hands through his hair as the Detective, and Jimmy Diaz looked on helplessly. Matt’s grip suddenly sprang open.
Nicky stood up and backed away from the table. “What the hell is wrong with that kid? Get him away from me!”
Diaz looked at Lauren suspiciously. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was determined to find out.
Matt’s breathing began to slow, and he sat up slowly in the chair with his head bent over. “I’m sorry,” Matt apologized between deep breaths. “I’m prone to seizures. I’m taking medication, but I never know what will trigger one.”
Simone was on one knee and was wiping his forehead with a napkin she had dipped in a water glass.
When Coltello realized his outburst had gathered the attention of most of the passengers, he held up his hands. “Nothing to see here, people. The kid is okay. Go back to your food.”
Lauren helped Simone get Matt to his feet, and each of them took him by an arm.
“What the hell happened?” Diaz asked Nicky.
Coltello straightened his tie and sat back down. “Fuck if I know. Just keep that freak away from me.”
Jimmy Diaz watched as the Detective, and the other two walked at a snail’s pace across the room. Anthony Magnetti had put down his knife and fork and was watching too.
Matt turned his head to the Detective.
“Is that what normally happens?” She asked. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
The trio made it back to the table, and Matt slumped exhaustedly in his chair. “Why didn’t I warn you?” He asked, sarcastically. “Do you have any idea of the crazy shit that guy has done in his life?” Matt signed and spoke softly.
“I know exactly what he does,” the Detective answered.
Matt shook his head slowly to the contrary. “Well, I’ll bet you don’t know that he just strangled Peter Mason, and I know where the body is!”
60
“Is everything okay over here?” Hope Jannick asked, walking up to the table. “What happened to you over there?”
“Nothing,” Matt answered. “Just a bit of motion sickness, I guess.”
Matt’s long-time friend looked surprised. “Motion sickness? It doesn’t even feel like we’re moving!”
Matt shrugged. “Thanks for checking up on me, but with our hearing loss, sometimes our inner ears can throw off our equilibriums. Simone said she was feeling a bit queasy too.”
Hope looked over at Simone who rubbed her stomach in agreement.
“Well, I hope it passes. I don’t want you telling anyone that you got seasick on this trip. Everyone enjoying themselves and having a smooth ride means a lot to my dad’s company.”
Matt zippered his lips. “Not a word. I promise.”
Hope smiled. “Well, enjoy the rest of the trip. The food is going to be something else!”
“I’m sure it will be,” Matt said. “I’m not sure if I have much of an appetite though.”
“Just give it a taste, and tell me what you think, okay?”
Matt nodded to Hope as she walked away. “Will do.”
Now that the obligatory chit-chat was out of the way, the Detective pointed to her own mouth. “Make sure you understand what I am asking you! You saw Nicholas Coltello strangle Peter Mason?”
Matt emphatically nodded. “He was standing behind Mason, and I could see his reflection in a mirror. Mason was fussing with his bowtie, and that guy over there came up from behind and strangled Mason with his own bowtie!”
Simone slapped Matt on the arm because he had stopped signing. “Sign!” she motioned, fiercely.
Matt turned to her. “I don’t want to get you involved,” he signed.
Simone scowled at him. “I’m already involved. Tell me, now!”
Matt summarized for her what he had seen, but he fingerspelled out the word “choked” because the gesture was so visual.
Lauren King waved her hand in front of Matt’s face to get his attention. “You’re telling me that you actually saw Nicholas Coltello strangle Peter Mason?”
“Yes,” Matt said, positively.
“Was there anyone else there?”
“I could only see through his eyes,” Matt whispered and made a stabbing motion with the letter “K,” his new sign language name for Nicky the Knife.
The Detective rubbed her hand over her mouth trying to assess her situation. She was in the middle of the ocean, sitting across a dance floor from two possible murderers, both accused by a teenager who saw it all in a hallucination. The cherry on the sundae was that Peter Mason, the missing puzzle piece in this crazy jigsaw, might now be dead according to her psychic! Yeah, that was her predicament pretty much in a nutshell. Where was Toby Bilston when she needed him? The only thing that was bringing her comfort right now was the feel of the revolver strapped to her thigh.
The Detective didn’t speak but rather mouthed her words so that Matt would understand without anyone else the wiser. “I know you believe you saw Peter Mason killed, but I just can’t go on this sixth sense of yours. I want with every ounce of my being to…”
Matt looked disappointed in her as he continued to whisper and sign for Simone. “First of all, it’s my fifth sense, remember? You think I’m crazy? You think that I’m making all of this up? Why?”
Lauren hung her head. “I didn’t…”
Matt lifted her chin. “I don’t know what you’re saying when you look down at the table! I was able to trace your past! How did I do that?”
Simone jumped angrily to Matt’s defense. “If Matthew says he saw something, then he saw it!”
Matt smiled and rubbed his hand on Simone’s back. “If the Detective doesn’t want to believe me, then there’s nothing I can do to convince her.”
“Bullshit,” Simone signed. “Show her the body!”
Matt stared at his girlfriend for a second and smiled before turning to the Detective.
“What did she say? She’s mad at me, right?”
Matt leaned over and whispered in Lauren’s ear. “You want proof? I can show you the body!”
The Detective sat upright and without realizing it, began to tap her feet nervously on the carpet. What if Peter Mason was dead? What could she do? How would she handle this in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean? These were international waters! Did that even matter?
“Show me,” she mouthed.
All three of them stood up, but Matt wasn’t having any of it. “You can’t come, Simone,” he signed.
“Like hell I can’t!” she signed back.
He moved in close to her and started signing with smaller gestures to make sure that no one else could see what he was saying. It wasn’t necessary, but just instinctual. “Those men are watching our every move. If we all leave together, it might look suspicious. Please stay here, for me.”
Simone chewed on her upper lip. “I’m frightened!”
Matt held her hand. “The Detective knows what she’s doing. I trust her. Please eat something, and I’ll be back in a few minutes. I promise.”
Simone crossed her arms on the table and looked past Matt to the Detective. “If anything happens to him,” Matt translated.
Lauren hitched up her dress far enough so they both could see her weapon. “He’ll be fine.”
Matt and the Detective stood up, but not before Simone kissed him harder than she had ever done before. “She knows that showing us her gun doesn’t make me feel any better, right?”
“Relax sweetheart,” Matt signed by wiggling his thumbs over his heart. “We’re just going to check out a dead body on a flying boat. What could possibly go wrong?”
61
Anthony Magnetti was the first to spot Matthew Walker and the redhead exiting the dining room together. He wondered where they were going, and why the girlfriend would be left behind. Something didn’t feel right.
Two tables away, Nicholas Coltello watched the kid and the cop leave the dining room together. His deranged brain was assuming the worst as he tried to guess what they were up to, and why the girlfriend had stayed behind. Every scenario his twisted mind could imagine stunk like week-old scungilli.
“Tell me what you saw,” Lauren asked Matt, as they headed out of the dining room.
Matt was walking a few steps ahead of her and had his head turned to read her lips. “They were definitely in a cabin. I saw a bed and sofa in the room.”
The Detective slowed down. “There are over one hundred cabins on this ship! We can’t search them all.”
Matt stopped walking. “Peter Mason wouldn’t be in a passenger cabin; wouldn’t he have his own suite?”
Lauren waggled her finger. “I like the way you think. You might make a good cop someday.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like they’d ever let a deaf person carry a gun.”
“There’s a lot more to police work than just shooting people! I’ve never had to fire my weapon ever in the line of duty! If your ability were something that you could actually learn to control, do you realize what an asset you could be to law enforcement?”
“Nah,” Matt said, with a wave of his hand. “I’m in no hurry to make this thing public. I’d end up in a laboratory somewhere with wires sticking out of my head. No thanks.”
“You are so wrong.”
Matt shook his head mournfully. “No, I’m not, and you know it. My grandmother thought the way you do and had me tested. I won’t live my life like that.”
The Detective held up her hands in submission. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it now, but please don’t rule it out.”
Matt pointed to a floor plan of the Hydra that hung framed on the wall. “All the suites are one deck up. It shows a staircase down this hallway, and then we hang a right.”
“I’m following you,” Lauren proposed. “Lead the way.”
Matt ran his finger along the diagram and took off down the passageway. When they reached mid-ship, he turned right and found the grand staircase. There wasn’t anything really grand about it, except perhaps the brass handrails and the giant piece of abstract art that was mounted on the rear wall of each landing. This one was a mixture of swirls and squares with a myriad of colored splotches all over the canvas. Forget police work, Matt thought. All he needed was a few cans of paint, some brushes, and an agitated monkey to make a great living.
They reached the third deck, and Matt stopped in his tracks.
“What’s the matter?”
“None of this looks familiar.”
“Really?”
Matt made the stabbing gesture again to signify Nicky the Knife. “He didn’t touch anything in the hallway. I don’t know which suite he was in.”
There were two directions they could go. The Detective walked over to the port side passageway and looked in both directions, and then walked past Matt to the starboard side passageway. “His suite is this way,” she said, pointing to starboard.
“How do you know that?”
The Detective winked. “There’s only one suite with double doors at the end of the corridor. I’m guessing it’s like the ship’s Presidential Suite. If I were Peter Mason, that’s the one I would stay in.”
The Detective held her arm out straight. “Stay behind me. If you see something or someone, get my attention; otherwise, stay close.”
Matt nodded as they made their way cautiously down the passageway to the lone cabin that had double doors. Ten feet from the door, Lauren stopped short. She turned to Matt and put her finger over her lips for him to remain still.
He looked at her quizzically. She pointed to her right ear and mouthed the words, “I hear something.”
“From inside?” Matt silently mouthed back.
Lauren nodded affirmatively, and reached down between her legs and drew the gun from its holster. She motioned for Matt to stay put. With her back pressed against the bulkhead, Lauren inched her way toward the door. Matt was looking back and forth, between watching the Detective and keeping vigil for her.
There was definitely movement in the suite. No one was speaking, but things were being moved around inside.
Ever so cautiously, Lauren reached out and grabbed the doorknob, which was of the lever variety, with her left hand. She held her gun at the ready in her right. To her surprise, even though the door needed a key card for entry, it was unlocked. The Detective gently pushed the lever on the left door downward staying behind the right door for added protection. When she turned the knob, the sound inside abruptly stopped.
She looked back at Matt and motioned for him to get down. He followed her instructions and lowered himself into a squat.
The Detective drew in a deep breath and slowly opened the door. She stayed low until the d
oor was opened wide enough for her to enter. She peeked her head inside quickly and pulled it back out. The cabin was completely dark except for the sliver of light that poured in from the opened doorway. Even though it was ten o’clock at night, the window shades might have been drawn shut. If there was someone inside, they knew she was coming. No one had fired at her or had made a run for it, so that was one point for the home team.
While still outside, she stood up slowly and began counting down from three to herself. On three, she burst into the room with her gun outstretched and took a low shooting stance, which she found really difficult to do in an evening gown. Her weapon moved left and then back to the right, scanning into the darkness, across into the path of light, and then back into the shade on the other side of the suite. She knew someone had to be here. She had heard them moving around. Her heart was pounding like Seabiscuit’s coming down the home stretch, and she wasn’t even sure if she was breathing. She took one more step into the room and then she felt it. It was the one thing that every cop feared the most. There was the muzzle of a gun pressed up against the back of her head.
62
The Petty Officer made his way back to the middle of the ship where he remembered seeing a map of the Hydra’s floorplans. The diagram showed the locations of the cabins, common areas, exits, elevators, and central staircase, but it lacked directions to the bridge. He understood that there were safety precautions behind that practice. Usually, only invited guests would be allowed to visit the control room, and they would probably be escorted up by elevator.
Even though the Hydra was an extraordinary vessel, she was probably built like every other ship, which meant an exterior access to the bridge. There had to be a ladder outside. Simms put his finger on the map where the exit closest to the bridge was located. He sprinted down the passageway, made a left at the intersection, and continued running forward toward the bow.
When Simms reached the glass doors, he was surprised that the floor sensors didn’t automatically open the exit. There was a bright red decal emblazoned on both doors cautioning passengers of the danger: