Overboard on the Ocean

by Ellen Jacobson

  “How do you know Herbert Miller?” I asked.

  “He was standing next to us on deck when the ship left port,” Nancy said. “We got to talking about the times Ned and I sailed to the Bahamas back when we had a boat.”

  “Funny how sailors gravitate toward each other,” Ned said. “It’s almost like we have a sixth sense that another like-minded person is nearby.”

  “Super nice guy,” Nancy said. “He even gave us a free phone charger. Says that his company got a box of them to test. He complained about their secretary. Apparently, she was supposed to order five, but she ordered five dozen instead. Now, they have so many they don’t know what to do with them.”

  Herbert greeted Ned and Nancy, then shook Scooter’s hand. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

  “Sure has,” Scooter said. “You remember Mollie, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” Herbert said. “The roller derby girl.”

  “It’s been ages since I’ve skated,” I said.

  “They don’t have a roller derby rink in Coconut Cove?” Herbert asked.

  “No. But I’m not sure I’d have time for skating these days. Our sailboat keeps us pretty busy.”

  Herbert slapped Scooter on the shoulder. “So you finally did it, huh? You bought a sailboat.”

  “I used to go sailing with Herbert on Lake Erie,” Scooter explained to Ned and Nancy.

  “We were telling Herbert about what a great boating town Coconut Cove is,” Ned said. “He’s thinking of bringing his boat down to Florida.”

  “Ideally, I’d have a boat in the south to sail on during the winters and one up north for the summers. When I eventually decide to stop working, which is a long way off, maybe I could retire down here.”

  “We convinced Herbert to spend some time in Coconut Cove after the cruise and check it out,” Ned said. “The timing is perfect. We have the fundraiser at the yacht club next weekend. It will be a great opportunity for Herbert to meet some local sailors.”

  “What are you raising money for?” Herbert asked.

  “It’s for a new maritime exhibit at the historical museum,” Nancy said.

  “Sounds good,” Herbert said.

  “They’re selling chocolate at the library to raise funds for it too,” I said.

  “I’m not sure they have any left,” Nancy said dryly. “Hudson told me that you cleared out their inventory.”

  “Just doing my part for a good cause.” I turned to Herbert. “Did you know that Fletcher and Sylvia are considering moving to Coconut Cove too?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Herbert said slowly. “That’s interesting.”

  I cocked my head to one side. “I was surprised to find out that you and Fletcher were still business partners after all these years.”

  “Well, it isn’t easy to end a relationship with Fletcher. Just ask Sylvia.” When I raised my eyebrow, he added, “I’m kidding, of course. Fletcher and I have been together since the beginning. It’s kind of like a marriage in a way. I can’t imagine us ever splitting up.”

  The smile on Herbert’s face didn’t quite reach his eyes. Did he know Fletcher had it out for him? Did he realize that Madison had plans to ‘take care of him’?

  4

  Lady Luck

  “Ragno, the Master of Illusions,” Madison said, reading the sign outside of the theater. “Sounds pretty corny. Maybe we should have joined the guys in the casino. I don’t think I can take three hours of hokey magic tricks.”

  Sylvia did a double take. “Did you say Ragno? It can’t be.” Stepping forward, she peered at the picture of the magician who would be performing shortly. “Goodness, it is him. I saw Ragno in Vegas a few years ago. You girls are in for a real treat. He was absolutely amazing.”

  “If he’s so amazing, why is he on the cruise ship circuit?” Madison asked. “This is where acts go to die.”

  “Maybe he just wanted a change of pace.” Sylvia said snippily, then turned to me. “Did you know I used to be a magician’s assistant?”

  I cocked my head to one side. “Really?”

  “It was before Fletcher and I were married. I worked with all the top magicians in Cleveland. You should have seen the outfits I wore—mini-skirts and fishnet stockings.”

  I tried to reconcile the older, slightly dowdy woman in front of me with an image of a young, sexy magician’s assistant. “Did they saw you in half?”

  “Yes, but they always put me back together at the end,” she said with a smile.

  “How do they do that?”

  “Sorry, can’t say. Code of silence.” Sylvia twisted an imaginary key over her lips.

  Madison shrugged. “I’m sure there’s a video on YouTube that shows how it’s done.”

  “That’s horrible,” Sylvia said. “Anyone who would break the sacred magic code of silence should be ashamed of themselves.”

  “What would happen if someone breaks the code? Get sawed in half?” I asked.

  Sylvia smiled, then got a faraway look in her eyes. “One of the magicians I worked for made it big. He asked me to go on tour with him, but I had just met Fletcher. I was madly in love. Now I wonder what my life would have been like if I had made a different decision.”

  “I guess you think about things like that when you get older,” she mused as she fiddled with her necklace. “The road you didn’t take.”

  “But you’re happy with Fletcher, aren’t you?” Madison asked.

  “Oh, sure.” The tone in Sylvia’s voice wasn’t very convincing. “If I hadn’t chosen Fletcher, I wouldn’t have my kids.”

  “You have two daughters, right?” I asked.

  “Yes. They’re both living on the west coast now. They don’t visit us as much as I’d like, but once we move to Florida, I bet we won’t be able to keep them away.” Sylvia pulled out her phone and showed us photos. “My oldest became a doctor and my youngest is an entertainment lawyer.”

  “Neither of them wanted to take over the family business?” I asked.

  “No. And we didn’t pressure them either. That’s why I’m glad Anthony was interested. It will be nice to keep it in the family.” When Madison bit her lip, Sylvia said, “Don’t worry dear, you’ll be an official part of the family before you know it.”

  Madison clasped her hands together, as though she wanted to hide the lack of an engagement ring. “I don’t know. I keep thinking he’s going to pop the question, but then he never does.”

  “I bet it will happen at Christmas. You wait and see. Sometimes men need a bit longer to realize what’s missing from their lives.” She grabbed Madison’s hand and nodded at me. “Come on, girls, let’s go find our seats.”

  “How long have you and Fletcher been married?” I asked Sylvia as we walked into the theater.

  “We celebrated our fortieth this year.”

  “Wow, that’s impressive,” I said.

  “Marriage is a commitment. When things aren’t going great, you can’t just walk away.”

  As we sat down, I asked Sylvia if everything was okay between her and Fletcher.

  She smoothed down her dark slacks. “He’s been a little stressed lately.”

  “Stressed? Is that what you call it?” Madison quirked an eyebrow. “He’s been hitting the bottle pretty hard.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Sylvia pulled a tissue out of her purse and dabbed her eyes. “He promised that he’d quit again when we’re back home. I don’t know why he had to drag all the investors on this cruise. He could have done the presentation back in Cleveland. There are too many temptations here—booze, gambling . . .”

  As her voice trailed off, I wondered if she also worried about women tempting Fletcher. There were rumors that he had strayed more than once.

  “Don’t worry,” Madison said. “Anthony is going to keep an eye on him tonight. He’ll make sure that he doesn’t gamble or drink too much.”

  “That’s a tall order,” Sylvia said ruefully. “If you tell Fletcher not to do something, then he d
oes it.”

  The loudspeakers crackled. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” an announcer said. “Please take your seats. The show is about to start.”

  Sylvia squealed. “This is so exciting. I get to see Ragno again. Wait until you see the illusion he does with tarantulas.”

  “Tarantulas?” I asked, my voice cracking. “As in big, hairy spiders?”

  Sylvia’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “It’s almost as good as the trick he does with snakes.”

  My eyes grew wide. Our seats were awfully close to the stage. “Um, you know what, I feel a headache coming on. I’m going to go back to my cabin and lie down.”

  “No, you can’t go now,” Sylvia said. “I think I have some over the counter pain relievers in my purse.”

  I rubbed my fingers on my temples. “I think I might need something stronger.”

  As the lights dimmed, I hightailed it out of the theater. Dead bodies, blood, murderers—I’d rather deal with all of that any day over a big, hairy tarantula.

  * * *

  Okay, I’ll be honest. I didn’t really have a headache. Though if I had stayed for the magic show, something worse would have happened. When the tarantulas appeared on stage, I would have screamed—loudly, really, really loudly. I can deal with a lot of things, but creatures with eight legs, well, that’s just wrong. Four legs are the most that anything should have or six at a stretch. But eight? That’s downright terrifying. And you want to know what else really creeps me out about spiders? They have eight eyes. More eyes to see you with in the dark right before they pounce on you.

  Anyone who doubts the existence of extraterrestrial life should examine spiders carefully. From a safe distance, of course. Preferably behind a sturdy, impenetrable plexiglass barrier. Once you get a close look, you’ll realize that spiders clearly originated on a planet where eight legs are the norm. Aliens must have dumped them here on Earth as some sort of practical joke. Don’t even get me started on centipedes . . .

  Anywho … where was I? Oh, yeah. I had rushed out of the theater, closing the door firmly behind me to prevent any spiders from following. I decided to head to the casino to see what the fellows were up to. Fletcher had always been one of those guys who drank too much at parties and then blamed his bad behavior on the booze. Except from what Sylvia had said, it sounded like his drinking problem had gotten worse. Scooter might need my help to run interference.

  I haven’t visited many casinos, but the one on the cruise ship seemed to fit the general pattern—plush carpeting, dim lighting, people in zombie-like trances mindlessly feeding coins into slot machines, and the occasional cheer when someone hit a jackpot. The only difference was that this casino had a view of the ocean. Moonlight reflected off the water, and I swear I could see a sailboat off in the distance.

  Craps, roulette wheels, and blackjack tables were in the center of the room. To the right of the entrance was a bar and to the left was the VIP Room. A red velvet rope was barricading it from the rest of the casino. Inside, the potential investors were playing high-stakes poker.

  As I looked around for Scooter, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and saw Dominic. He was dressed in a similar fashion to when I had met him earlier in the day—a black t-shirt two sizes too small for him paired with jeans. The only difference was that he had a large diamond stud in one of his ears. Maybe that was his way of dressing up for the evening.

  Dominic smiled at me. It was an odd smile. His mouth looked so tiny in comparison to his bulky build. His teeth appeared to be the size of baby teeth. I wondered if this was a side effect of doing too many steroids. When your muscles grow bigger, do your teeth shrink?

  He pointed at the roulette wheel. “Play?”

  “Uh, no thanks,” I said. “I’m looking for my husband. Have you seen him?”

  Dominic shook his head. “Play?”

  “No, I can’t,” I repeated.

  “Okay, I play.” Dominic pointed at himself, then at me. “You, good luck.”

  Grabbing my elbow, he steered me toward the roulette wheel. When we reached it, he asked, “Favorite number?”

  “Six million, four hundred and thirty-two.”

  Dominic’s brow furrowed, and I wondered if English was his first language. He pointed at the numbers running around the outer edge of the roulette wheel. “Pick again.”

  “But I don’t have a second favorite number,” I said. “That’s the only one.”

  He nodded slowly. “One. Good. Good number. Favorite color?”

  “Oh, this question is harder,” I said. “I can tell you what my least favorite color is—pink. But as for my favorite, well, I’m torn between blue and green. Orange is nice too.”

  Dominic cracked his knuckles and stared at me. The noise was so loud that it could be heard over the robotic chirping and beeping noises from the nearby slot machines. “Red or black? Pick.”

  “To be honest, I don’t really like either color. Unless you’re talking about licorice, in which case, red, for sure.”

  “Red. Good. Good color.” Dominic placed a stack of chips on top of the number one, then another stack on top of a red diamond. Never having played roulette before, I wasn’t sure if this was a good betting strategy. However, given the number of chips he was gambling, I hoped so.

  The dealer spun the wheel. Dominic watched intently as the white ball whizzed around. When it landed on the number one, Dominic clapped his hands together. After the dealer pushed a pile of chips toward him, Dominic patted me on the shoulder.

  “Good. Good job. Pick again.”

  I stared at the numbers on the roulette wheel—zero through thirty-eight. None of them spoke to me. Then an image of a giant tarantula popped into my head. Dominic was a scary-looking guy. Tarantulas were scary too. Maybe the universe was trying to tell me something. “Eight,” I suggested.

  Turns out eight is a lucky number when it comes to roulette. Dominic was on fire. He spent the next twenty minutes asking me to pick numbers. Somehow, each one I chose was a winner.

  As I was trying to decide between twelve and twenty-two, I heard a commotion on the other side of the room. “That sounds like Fletcher. A very drunk Fletcher.”

  Dominic and I wound our way around the gaming tables and through the rows of slot machines. Fletcher was standing outside the VIP Room, gesturing at Scooter and sloshing the contents of his drink on the ground. “That dealer is crooked. That’s why I lost.”

  Scooter tried to steady Fletcher. “I think you’re just having a run of back luck.”

  Fletcher handed the glass to Scooter and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He frowned as he rifled through it. “Sylvia will kill me if she finds out I’m out of cash.”

  “Why don’t we go to the lounge and get some coffee?” Scooter suggested.

  “I don’t want coffee. I want another drink.” Fletcher looked blearily in our direction. “Dominic, there you are. Do me a favor. Lend me some money.”

  Dominic stared impassively at Fletcher, not saying a word.

  Fletcher spied the bucket of chips that Dominic was holding. “Lady Luck has been treating you right, hasn’t she?”

  Dominic pointed at me. “Lady Luck.”

  Fletcher grabbed Dominic’s arm and whispered something in his ear. Dominic shook his head. Fletcher narrowed his eyes, then whispered something else to him.

  Dominic stared at the ground, considering what Fletcher had said. After a beat, he said, “Watch.”

  Fletcher took a deep breath, then removed a heavy gold watch from his wrist and handed it to the other man. Dominic examined it closely before handing Fletcher the bucket of chips.

  “Thanks,” Fletcher said, slurring his words. “I can feel my luck changing already.”

  As we watched Fletcher weave and totter his way toward the craps table, I said, “Anthony should be here. Madison said that he was going to keep an eye on Fletcher.”

  “He’s with the other guys at the poker game,” Scooter said. “That kid is sharp. He kn
ows the telecommunications industry inside and out. From the sounds of it, he’s the one that put this deal together, not Fletcher. Maybe it’s not such a bad investment opportunity after all.”

  I turned to look at Scooter and noticed a red stain on his shirt. “What happened?”

  “Fletcher spilled his daiquiri on me. I should probably go change, but . . .” his voice trailed off as Fletcher bellowed for a drink.

  “Go ahead. I can keep an eye on him.”

  Scooter cocked his head to one side. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be at the magic show?”

  “Tarantulas,” I said.

  “Ah . . . I see.”

  After Scooter left, I walked over to the craps table. A waiter was handing Fletcher another drink when Herbert elbowed his way through the other gamblers and snatched it away.

  “Don’t do this,” Herbert said. “Fletcher, you’re better than this.”

  “Stop being such a stick in the mud,” Fletcher said, trying to grab the drink.

  Herbert spotted me. “Here, take this,” he said in an undertone.

  While I took a sip of the daiquiri, Fletcher leaned over the large oval table and dumped some chips out of his bucket. “Give me the dice.”

  After the other players placed their bets, Fletcher blew on the dice before throwing them down the table. A silver-haired lady squealed and high-fived her friend. Fletcher frowned as the dealer scooped up his losing chips. Then he demanded a rum and coke from a passing waitress.

  I groaned when I realized the waitress was the same woman who Fletcher had been rude to earlier in the evening. Though if she resented having to put up with his bad behavior again, she didn’t show it.

  Herbert pulled the waitress aside, and I heard him suggest that she bring Fletcher a non-alcoholic drink.

  After losing some more of his chips, Fletcher slammed his fist onto the craps table. Herbert clasped him on the shoulder. “Why don’t we call it a night?”

  Fletcher let out a loud belch, then jabbed his finger in Herbert’s chest. “We’re here to have fun, for goodness sake.”