Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 01 - Wendy and the Lost Boys (19 page)

My blonde hair was flipped, the ends stiff with hairspray. I wore pale lipstick and a touch of mascara. I wasn’t sure I was pretty; I just knew I wasn’t ugly. I was skinny as a stick and had pencil legs with knees that looked at each other. I wore black-framed glasses I didn’t need, because I thought they made me look intelligent. With all this not going for me, the guys at work were nevertheless hitting on me. It was a glorious feeling. At my high school I was part of the “Out-Crowd”…the kids who had no money, pathetic wardrobes and limited prospects. Here, at Macy’s I was a desirable shiksa princess and that was good.

On the evening of the third day at work, as I folded sweaters and whatnots, I looked up to see a guy standing in the entrance to the stockroom. He stood there in a beam of dusty light. He wore a stock boy’s coveralls and a grin that almost knocked me over. He motioned for me to step closer. As a stock clerk, he was confined to base. However, I could and did come to him.

“You’re really cute,” he said.

“I don’t think so…” I answered.

“My name is Peter. And you are the most adorable girl I’ve ever seen.”

I remember looking at his lips and wondering what they would taste like. A shiver of excitement ran through my body. “I’m Wendy,” I answered, careful not to disclose too much.

“I’d like to get to know you better. Can we go out? Next Sunday?” he asked.

Accepting there on that spot, at the entrance to the stockroom in Macy’s, I sealed my life’s romance profile. Forever after I would be looking for Peter Payne in every man I met.

“Wendy?” Peter called after me. “Do you know you have beautiful legs?”

I blushed.

We dated for one year. With his strong arms around me, I was innocent enough to think we would last forever.

“Come with me, Wendy. Let’s travel the world.”

I had a scholarship and plans. Peter had a fear of growing up and old.

“You’ll never see me with a wrinkle on my face. I’m going to stay young forever,” he said. That was the night he handed me the locket. I shivered at the thought Croc had stolen it from me. But why? I feared for Peter’s safety.

Chapter Forty-Three

There was a huge, dark hulk along the rail. Only one person was that big.

“Roscoe?” I didn’t want to startle him and end up in the ocean.

He turned to face me, looking as if he were carrying the pains of the world on his very broad back. “Can we talk?” he asked. “I know you’re looking for answers, and I have things I want to get off my mind. You want to know who killed Miss Marni.”

A chill hit the back of my knees and worked its way up my spine. Marni’s body was about to be washed up on the shore of my mind and the truth of her death exposed.

Roscoe spoke softly as he clenched his fists together. “Please don’t be afraid of me. I’m dangerous, but I would never hurt you. I’ve done some very bad things. All my life I’ve been a hired gun, not a cook.”

The breath rushed out of my lungs and my body weakened. Grabbing the rail, I braced myself. I felt as if my heart were about to be yanked into the air.

Regaining my composure, I slipped into place along the rail next to Roscoe. I gazed out over the sea, figuring it would be easier for him to speak if I didn’t look directly at him. I was more curious than afraid, although the thought occurred to me he could crush me with one finger.

“Revenge is a powerful emotion. It beats love hands down. I’m on this ship for one reason… to get even.”

He looked toward the bridge as if Hook might be there.

 “What? Tell me.”

“After the earthquakes in my homeland of Haiti, all the money that was donated to help our relief efforts was placed in The Manhattan Haiti Trust Fund by hedge-fund managers. The greedy bastards saw a quick way to make a profit from the fund by investing with Charles Hook.”

“Oh no…”

He punched one fist into the other. “People around the world sent money to that fund. When we needed to buy antibiotics, food, and water, the money was gone. Crime and cholera almost became the rulers of Haiti. Gangs took over in cities. I spent half my time saving lives and the other half taking them.”

I patted his arm. It felt as cold and hard as stone. Knowing what was coming, I shivered. I could hear the words before he said them. “Prison is no answer for Hook’s crimes. He has money hidden away around the world. He’ll slip through the system. Hook has to die.”

“Roscoe, don’t say that. It makes you no better than he is.”

“It makes me no worse. I watched my people perish. Each death was more horrible than the last. I have to finish what I started.”

“How was Marni involved?”

She came to the kitchen almost every day. One day, she acted different, as if she could read my mind and knew what I planned.”

I heard myself asking, “What did you have planned?”

“Polonium is a convenient way to kill somebody, slowly. It’s doesn’t take but a few particles.”

That was what Roger called it. “What is that stuff?”

“Radioactive dust. Think of it as high tech voodoo.”

“Where would you get something like that?”

“You can get anything on line.”

“Marni?”

“I kept it in a top cabinet in the galley in a spice container, figuring it was safer there than in my quarters. Miss Marni got into it. It’s as simple as that.” His eyes blurred over with tears. “I never meant to hurt her. She was a sweet lady. It was an accident.”

“Did she climb up and take it down?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. She took sick with stomach pains one day. Hook wouldn’t let anyone near her. The container was on the shelf. I checked it but couldn’t tell if she’d touched it.”

“What if Hook had flown her to a hospital?”

“There’s nothing anyone can do for that sort of poisoning once the polonium is eaten or taken into your lungs.” He rubbed his forehead with his huge hand.

“So the stuff is still on board the
Predator
?”

He didn’t respond. I spun through solutions, flipping them aside like dresses in a fitting room. There was no easy answer.

“Hook could hide at sea and die of old age. I won’t let it happen.”

A cold tremor hit my body. “Do you have that –”

“Polonium. I do. Don’t worry. It can’t hurt you. But it will kill Charlie Hook.”

“Why are you telling me this? Knowing makes me an accomplice.”

“Because you’ll be haunted until you find the answers. I want someone to know who and why… after I’m gone.”

My mind was running like a hamster on a high-speed wheel. Where is Roscoe going? If I warn Hook, he’ll have Roscoe killed. I can’t call the authorities for help because of the scrambler.

I imagined finding Peter on Nevis, kissing him, and telling him I needed his help with keeping a promise and preventing a murder. He would rush to my aid begging my forgiveness for running off and leaving me to grow up alone.

“Don’t tell the others,” Roscoe said, his voice so deep it vibrated the air around us.

“What if we can get the treasure back to that fund? Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“Hook’s treasure can’t be turned into cash. Not by any of us. He has the connections, we don’t. His fortune is useless to us.”

“I wasn’t thinking of keeping it. We’d give it back to everyone he fleeced.”

“It’s too late. The door is closing on us. Hook has someone waiting on Nevis to receive his treasure. It’ll be sold to other black market collectors. And the money tucked away in offshore accounts.”

“This can’t be the way it all comes down. He can’t win.”

“He’s won’t. I’m going to throw him out like the trash he is.”

Roscoe hefted himself from the rail, gave me a woeful look, and went below.

I stared at the moon. This had to be a nightmare. Things like this don’t happen in real life.
Marni… done in by your own snooping.

Kit and Roger needed to know. Maybe Jaxbee already knew. I remembered Roscoe bumping into me as I ran from the bridge just before Captain Henry was killed. How did that fit in? Did he kill Henry?

***

Nevis Island

Chapter Forty-Four

Late the next morning, Hook was on a cell phone, his tone angry, and his words unintelligible. The bastard had shut off the scrambler. I wondered about my phone sitting at the bottom of the ocean, along with Kit’s and Roger’s. Could I get onto the bridge and use the ship’s radio to call? Did I know how to work a ship’s radio? No. And how would I deal with Dale?

We had passed Anguilla without attracting any attention. Moving further off shore, we slipped by Saint Kitts, our cloaking shield in place and motors running silent. The
Predator
glided through the deep waters to south of Nevis and anchored far off shore. We dropped the shield.

If I didn’t kick butt soon, I would burst from adrenalin backup. I needed to strangle someone. Instead I sat on the upper deck while Roscoe served us brunch. Just as Darlin’s Dudes began to eat, the sun slipped behind a dark cloud. Three waterspouts joined up and became one giant plume as the island came into view. It felt like God had left the area. A small patch of land about fifty miles west of Antigua, Nevis is conical in shape with a volcano at its center. The sandy beaches are brown and black from ancient lava and frosted with a dusting of crushed white coral. A fantasy island.

As we ate mango shrimp and jasmine rice, I noticed a few of the crew wandering topside, each carrying a handgun. The air crackled with tension. It’s hard to concentrate on dipping sauce when there’s a Glock dangling near the pitcher of chilled mimosas.

Roger gave me his patented raised eyebrow and followed Hook below deck.

I excused myself. Feeling uncomfortable under the watchful gaze of armed preppies, I walked to the starboard railing and gazed at Nevis Island. Peter was there. My Peter Payne. What did he look like now? What was he doing on an island in the middle of nowhere? And why did Roger think Peter was connected to Hook?

The foliage on the shore looked lovely through binoculars. There were silver buttonwood trees, mangrove thickets, flowering plants and huge coconut palms. I could see a path meandering through pine trees and flowering bushes. An abandoned refugee boat lay on the beach – menaces and mysteries and broken lives.

More crewmen showed up on deck carrying various side arms. Jaxbee sat at the helm braced with pillows to support her body. The whack on her head had taken its toll. Dale was running the ship. Kit paced like a caged animal. We all wanted off. If I used a grain of imagination, I could hear a clock ticking. It was like a time bomb about to explode.

I was on the verge of an anxiety attack. My thoughts were freewheeling, and I was desperate for a plan. Marni might have accidentally killed herself. That still didn’t take Hook off the hook. Not funny, I thought. Under his thin crust of insanity was a bubbling magma of cruelty and greed. He’s got to go down. I have to do it. But
how
was the big question, when at any moment his elegant army might turn into barking sadists.

 Roger said to wait. He was trying my patience. Unless he had some magic up his sleeve, I was about to take control and probably shoot myself in the foot.

Chapter Forty-Five

I stood alone at the rail staring at Nevis Island.

“Wendy!” The voice was vaguely familiar.

Looking around, I saw no one.

“Wendy! Down here.”

I leaned over the side. Croc was dangling from the rail wearing a white scuba suit. He was all but invisible against the white hull. “Is anybody on the deck with you?”

“Now what?”

“We’re going to throw you some lines. Get them anchored on the cleats.”

I hate it when he bosses me. “This is a super yacht. It doesn’t have cleats.” I was arguing with my crazy ex-husband who was hanging from the side of the ship like a marshmallow on a string.

He staged-whispered and it came out a breathless squeak. “Of course it has cleats. All boats have cleats.” The wind caught him and the rope swayed. A Zodiac full of hedgies in white bobbed below him. It was a chilling lack of sophistication that allowed a bunch of hedge-fund managers to find and board an invisible ship.

“Wendy, your life is on the table. Do you want to be rescued? Hook is going to kill you once he fences his treasure. Trust me.”

“I did trust you, once. That’s why we’re divorced.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve been chasing your Peter Payne pendant all over Georgia. I gave it to you so I could follow you, trace you, protect you.” He swung against the hull with a thud. “Why did you give it to some drunken punk?”

“You put a tracking gadget in my locket?”

Croc’s face was red from exertion. Hanging there was probably more exercise than he’d had in his entire life. “Yeah. GPS from Amazon.com so I would know where you were at all times…” he gasped like a fish out of water. “I spent days following that damn locket and ended up in a reggae bar in Atlanta.”