Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 01 - Wendy and the Lost Boys (9 page)

If I hadn’t married Croc, he wouldn’t have made that stupid bet with Hook. If they hadn’t bet, Hook wouldn’t have looked me up under the pretense of buying a mansion. If Hook hadn’t come to me about real estate, I wouldn’t have introduced him to Marni and she’d still be alive. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t find out who killed her.

Tink looked me straight in the eyes as if she was trying to tell me something. What do they say on
Law and Order
? Means, motive, and opportunity. I said to the dog, “I can’t see any motive at this point. That leaves means and opportunity.”

“Hey, you,” Jaxbee slid into the chair next to me.

She startled the questions in my mind straight to my lips. “Who do you think killed Marni and Captain Henry? Where are we headed?” I would have kept quizzing her but her firm touch on my arm told me to shut up.

She bit her lower lip and glanced over her shoulder conspiratorially. “The secrecy of my mission keeps me from knowing what I’m doing.”

I laughed.

She leaned closer. “We’re headed for Savannah. Just stay near me once we get close to land. It’s going to be tricky.”

“Why Savannah? And how will we get to shore?”

“We’ll use the
Nibs.
We’re boarding it from the submarine launch. Once the tender is out from under the cloak, we’ll be visible.”

“Then the Coast Guard can find us?”

“Homeland Security keeps Black Hawk helicopters flying over the coastline continuously. If they spot what might be an illegal boat, everyone on board has to come out on deck. They have facial recognition software. If they recognize Hook, he may open fire. He’s wired to the max.”

“He’d shoot at Homeland Security?”

“And I’m sure they’ll return fire. It’ll be dangerous for all of us.”

That got my attention. I hoped I hadn’t put Kit in even more danger. “Who’s the ‘we’ getting into the tender?”

“His lordship hasn’t said, but I’m guessing it’s you, me, and him.”

“What about Marni?” I whispered.

She drew up her legs and rested her chin on her knees. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense. As for Captain Henry, I don’t know who killed him, but someone shut off the cloaking device and the LRAD before the hedgies attacked.”

I stared at her. “So that’s what you meant about the switches being turned off?”

“I’m pretty sure it was him. I know he ordered the crew into the safe room to get them out of the way.”

Jaxbee studied the ocean for a long, silent moment. “The water’s getting crappy now. Better go below. I have to get back to the bridge.” She squeezed my shoulder and stood up. “It won’t be so bad being here on the
Predator.
Think about a few flying lessons to pass the time.”

She slipped away as quietly as she had arrived.

I realized she hadn’t said why we were going to Savannah.

The waves started to swell; an eerie phosphorescence came vomiting from the dark sea. Holding Tink, I made my way down to the next deck. The world had turned toxic and I hated it. Roscoe was standing at the railing as I passed. He’d been kind to me the few times we’d exchanged words. I wanted thank him. “Hey guy, what are you thinking?” I smiled as I stood next to him.

A whoosh of air escaped his lips; his shoulders slumped. Each of his arms was wider than my whole body. He could flip me over the side in a heartbeat. His black eyes held great sadness. “I’m thinking about Miss Marni.”

A gigantic manta ray leaped from the water and skimmed the surface in slow motion. “A devilfish,” Roscoe said as he pulled out a pistol and shot the ray. The innocent creature stopped in flight and lay still on the water for long minutes. Then it circled around. I could swear it was memorizing Roscoe. The hate was palpable. I was freaked out by the chef’s random act of violence.

Easing away from the fullback-sized Haitian, I dashed through the lounge, and raced to my suite. I locked the door and made sure it clicked. Tossing Tinkerbelle onto the bed, I lay on top of the grungy sheets. The cowardly housekeepers hadn’t surfaced since the invasion. They were probably hiding in the laundry room. I had no reason to believe the linens were changed. Yup… they still smelled like Kit.

“Alone, at last.” It was Roger coming out of my bathroom. He plopped down next to me.

Chapter Eighteen

“Get out of my bed. How’d you get in here?”

“SEC trains us to pick any lock. I’m a wiz.”

“Go take one,” I snipped.

“I just did. Thanks for the use of your bathroom.”

I stood up and swung a pillow at his head. He blocked it.

Tinkerbelle scrambled off the bed and hid under a chair.

“Is that any way to treat someone who’s trying to protect you?”

“Are you? Really? You were pretty quick to run off and stick me with Hook.”

He smirked. “And you… left me holding his dick.”

“You make a perfect dick-doctor.”

“So I got even. You were never in any danger. In Hook’s condition you could have clocked him with one fist.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve been investigating.”

His eyes were so Johnny Depp-ish and his lips curved down slightly just like Johnny’s. I decided to listen.

“We
are
headed for Hook’s loot.”

“How’d you find out?” I asked.

“Dale’s a little man with a big need to brag, and I
am
a professional investigator.”

He was so irritating. The smart ass lay back on my bed.

“Bet you don’t know we’re headed to Savannah,” I said.

“Thank you. I didn’t. Now I do.”

“Nuts.”

He grinned. “That’s probably where the treasure van is. You help me bring it in, and you’ll be a hero. Might even get a reward.”

“What kind of reward? An evening with you?”

He grinned a sexy grin.

I felt myself blush. “I thought I was a suspect.”

He smiled. “You’ve slipped on my list.”

Was that an insult? “Don’t get any crazy ideas,” I said. “I’m not interested in you.”

“Not yet,” he said.

I answered a light knock on the door. Kit entered, tripped over the threshold, and fell down on the bed next to Roger.

Mr. Brown-Shoes bolted to his feet. “Don’t do that!”

“Fear not, Doctor Doolittle. You are so not my type,” Kit said as he stretched his lean frame the length of the bed.

Settling into the armchair nearest the bed, I spoke in a whisper. “Guys, think with me a minute.”

“Why are you whispering?” Kit asked.

“I have a feeling my room might be bugged. With all the technology Hook uses, why not one more gadget?”

Roger sat next to Kit and leaned into the chat. “What have you got in mind?”

“Hook refuses to put us ashore. Maybe we can solve Marni’s murder before we escape. As long as we’re stuck here, we need to find out what we can.”

“How?” Kit asked.

“I’ll take Jax up on her offer to teach me to fly the chopper. Maybe I can get her to open up. She’s hiding something.”

“How do you know?” Roger said.

“Women know these things.” I lowered my voice even more. “We’ll operate on the theory that Marni was poisoned. Roger, can you use your medic training – such as it is – to see if any of the crew has symptoms of radiation poisoning?”

“No problem.”

I looked at Kit. “Chef Roscoe would be the likeliest person to put poison in food. He had access. That scares the bees out of me. Makes us all vulnerable. Can you use your gourmet lingo to get close to him?”

“I’ll try. I just won’t sample the sauces. This is so exciting, all of us working together like the A-Team, except we’re Darlin’s Dudes.”

Roger shook his head. “I’m so humiliated.”

I saw a smile slip onto a corner of his mouth. “No you’re not. You’re enjoying this. Now get out of my room. I shoved their muscular bodies out the door and snapped the lock. If I didn’t get some sleep, I wouldn’t be up to the task – whatever the task was. I threw myself on the smelly sheets and tried to nap.

Chapter Nineteen

I slept through lunch. It felt good. I found Darlin’s Dudes ready for dinner on the upper deck. We waited for Jaxbee to join us. Unfortunately Hook came with her.

Roscoe set out plates of pasta with tiny shrimp. We waited until Hook swallowed the first few mouthfuls. He didn’t keel over. The Dudes and I exchanged all-clear winks and dove into our dinner. I was starving.

Jaxbee sat next to me with Kit beside her.

“I’ve thought about those helicopter lessons. I’d like to give it a try as long as you’re still willing,” I said.

“Good. It’ll be fun. Dale can take the bridge while I hold classes.”

I excused myself, claiming a headache. I just didn’t feel like being sociable. I carried a doggy bag of shrimp for Tinkerbelle. She was all over me when I got to my room. I put the food in a tiny dish and filled her water bowl. The pup inhaled the shrimp almost without chewing. I spread some towels on the floor, knowing she’d be sick during the night.

Two deaths on one yacht had my paranoia strings humming. After checking my suite for lurkers and listeners, I wedged a chair against the door. Carrying my blanket and pillows I went into the bathroom, locked that door, and climbed into the tub.

Sometime during the night, Tink started to whimper and scratch at the door. I let her in and we huddled together till daybreak.

Chapter Twenty

The next morning, after I returned from walking Tinkerbelle, there was a banging on the door of my suite. As I ran from the bathroom to the door, it occurred to me that my stateroom was larger than my entire condo in Miami.

It was Jaxbee. “Hi, student! Are you ready?” she said. “It’s time for me to do my recon, and you can have a helicopter lesson at the same time.”

“Recon?”

“I go up and scout the seas. See if we’re being followed,” she smiled.

“Okay. Let me drop Tink with Kit. He can dog-sit.”

I grabbed the dog and my sunglasses and followed Jaxbee. She stepped across the corridor, banged on Kit’s door, passed the dog to him, and said, “Here, hold this.” The pup covered his bewildered face with kisses.

Jaxbee led the way to the helideck. Standing there I was hit with a wave of vertigo. It was either nerves or I’d become agoraphobic from being cooped up on the
Predator
. I had to focus on her and not look down. The dizziness was overwhelming and we weren’t even airborne yet.

“The
Shark’s
a beauty isn’t she?” Jaxbee said.

“Shark? Where?” I spun around scanning the clear water.

She laughed. “Did you forget? The helicopter’s name is the
Shark
.”

“Perfect,” I shuddered.

As she hopped into the pilot seat and I fumbled with my seatbelt, Dale came rushing over. His skinny face was almost nose-to-nose with me. “If you disappear on this joy ride, your gay buddy takes a bullet in the skull.”

Jaxbee turned the starter key and the motor woke up.

I shivered. The fear of a repeat of my Cessna crash, the roller coaster ride into hell, made my hands slippery with sweat. I became hypersensitive, the sun was too bright, the chopper smelled of fuel, my hair hurt, and I had a broken nail.

My instructor was annoyingly cheerful. “Flying a helicopter requires a more seat-of-your-pants feel than an airplane. There are four controls instead of three like on a fixed wing. You’ll pick up the feel through repetition.”

This was crazy. I don’t do repetition. It’s so… repetitive.

She continued with her lesson. “There are four controls. This is the cyclic… looks like a joystick. Use this to turn the chopper or move it sideways when you’re hovering.”

That was the stick she held my hand on during the flight from Miami. “If you push the cyclic to the right the rotor disk tilts to the right and produces thrust in that direction causing the chopper to move sideways in a hover or to roll into a right turn during forward flight… like an airplane.”

I felt myself glazing over. She was losing me with all the technical stuff.

“If you move it longitudinally…”

I shot her my blankest look.

She smiled. “Lengthwise. … it pitches the nose up or down. It controls the attitude NOT the altitude.”

My brain was going into stubborn-mode. It was rejecting the instructions as quickly as she gave them. I felt like a child. Like Treanna. My poor Treanna. I forced my mind back to flying.

Jaxbee droned on, “This stick on my left is the collective. It changes the angle of the blades causing the bird to go up or down.”

She leaned back and tilted her head to the left. “This thing at the top of the collective is a twist grip. That’s the throttle. See?”