Final Sail (21 page)

Helen enjoyed watching the marina, swarming with white-uniformed crews. Deckhands with bulging calves and thighs carried cases of beer and booze aboard the yachts. A female crew member in khaki shorts trundled a cart piled with pineapples, lemons and bananas. Near the entrance, Helen saw a tall brown-haired man in white shorts and a polo shirt. He looked a lot like Carl, the
Earl
’s second-in-command. A slender woman gripped his arm.

“Come on, Mitzi,” Helen said, coaxing the poodle along the dock toward the pair. As she got closer, Helen saw that the man had the same lanky body as Carl. Ten feet closer and Helen stopped dead, Mitzi’s leash wrapped around her feet.

She knew that round, open face. She recognized those squint lines. It was Carl. But it couldn’t be. The first mate was on board with the captain and the Bulgarian engineer, wasn’t he?

No, that was definitely Carl, talking to a dark-skinned woman with cropped hair and clean-cut features. Her navy Ralph Lauren shirt and shorts were no crew uniform. She was somewhere in her twenties, but she wasn’t flirting. She handed Carl a black Prada backpack so heavy she nearly stumbled under its weight.

“Do what you can to get rid of them and don’t forget my share,” she said. “Be careful. This thing weighs a ton.”

“Not to me,” Carl said, buckling it onto his broad back. But he couldn’t manage his usual easygoing amble. Carl struggled to walk under this burden, and stopped in surprise when he saw Helen.

His greeting sounded like an accusation. “Escaped your yacht chores, I see,” he said.

“Nope. Got more work,” Helen said, holding up the leash. “I’m
in charge of Mitzi this evening. We’re heading back now. Handsome backpack. Looks heavy. Do you need help with it?”

“Do I look so weak I can’t carry a little backpack?” Carl asked.

But it’s not a little backpack, Helen thought. It’s huge. And I want to know what makes it so heavy.

Carl wasn’t going to tell her. She changed the subject. “Are you surprised Louise jumped ship?”

“That’s what Mira claims,” he said. “The captain believes her, but I have my doubts. That fishing charter was too far away to have just left our boat. Besides, I know Louise. She’s not a quitter. Even if she was sick of being a stew, she’d want a good reference.”

“So where is she?” Helen said.

“I hope to God I’m wrong and she took that fishing charter,” Carl said. “Otherwise, she fell overboard.”

“Would she go out on deck during the storm?”

“Unlikely,” Carl said. “The wind was so bad I could hardly open the bridge hatch.”

“What are the chances of Louise surviving if she fell into the water?” Helen asked.

“None,” Carl said. “Zero. Nada.”

CHAPTER 24

H
elen was the most popular crew member on the
Belted Earl
that night. She’d volunteered to take the twelve-hour watch that started at eight o’clock.

One crew member always had to be on board the
Earl
. Thanks to Helen, the rest could party after the owners and guests left for dinner. The crew needed that free time. They’d been tumbled around like clothes in a dryer last night, then spent the day cleaning, cooking and catering to the guests.

The crew cheered Helen and made extravagant promises.

“Can I bring you back a rum punch?” Sam asked.

“One lousy drink?” Matt the bosun asked. “That’s all for a night of freedom? I’ll bring you a whole six-pack of cold Kalik and a conch salad.”

Helen laughed and shook her head.

“You can have three bars of Bvlgari soap,” Mira said. “Only used once.”

“Now, that bribe I’ll take,” Helen said.

“I’ll make your favorite dessert for the crew dinner,” Suzanne said. “Just name it.”

“I like all your food,” Helen said. “I don’t have favorites. Well, maybe chocolate.”

“Piece of cake,” the chef said. “A double chocolate mocha cake.”

“Sold!” Helen said, laughing.

“Seriously, Helen, I have to start working at midnight,” the chef said. “I can come back at eleven if you need to get away.”

“No, thanks,” Helen said. “As soon as the guests leave, I’ll finish the stateroom turndowns and the laundry. Then I want to rest.”

Helen did want to rest. She also wanted to talk to Phil with no eavesdroppers. And search the cabin for clues to Louise’s disappearance. The captain might believe she’d left the ship, but Helen had her doubts. She’d heard her gripe like everyone. But why would a hard worker like Louise abandon a good job—and a good paycheck—without notice? Why go home on a strange charter? Just because the unknown captain and crew were American didn’t mean it was safe to travel with them.

She was shaken by her conversation with Carl. It had never dawned on her that Louise might have been lost overboard.

While the crew waited for the owners and guests to return from Atlantis, Helen and Mira prepared the party area on the upper aft deck for predinner cocktails.

“This is my favorite place on the yacht,” Mira said, leaning against the rail. “It’s perfect for a party: open to the island breeze with a canopy of stars.”

“I’d love to stretch out in this chaise,” Helen said, plumping the azure cushions. “And have someone bring me champagne.”

She knew there was no chance of that. After they finished, Helen ran downstairs and threw in another load of laundry, then started the stateroom turndowns. Like all the crew, she watched the clock. It was now eight thirty-six. The owners and guests were late.

Earl, Beth, Rosette and Ralph straggled back at eight fifty-two, then settled into the teak lounges and rattan settees, laughing and lingering over drinks. Mitzi curled up at her mistress’s sandaled feet.
Scotty and Pepper arrived at two minutes after nine. “I can’t wait to show off Scotty’s presents!” she said.

Soft music, flower-scented breezes and the slap-slap of waves on the hull lulled the yachters into a pleasant daze.

The chef, Mira and Helen pasted on smiles and prayed they’d leave for dinner soon. The clock hands were racing now, killing the crew’s precious free time.

In between serving cocktails, Helen slipped on disposable gloves and cleaned the guest heads six times and answered yet another carefully coded call to “walk the dog.” How big were the kidneys on a six-pound poodle? she wondered as she scrubbed the carpet.

At nine seventeen, Earl finally said the words the crew waited for: “What time are our dinner reservations?”

“Ten o’clock,” Beth said.

Scotty checked his watch. “Then we’d better get in gear,” he said.

“I can’t wait to try the food,” Pepper said.

“At Nobu’s prices, she’ll bankrupt him by dessert,” Rosette whispered to Ralph. Her stringy spouse snorted.

Earl gently shooed his guests to their staterooms.

Helen and Mira hurried to clean up again. Helen came downstairs in time to see the guests leaving. Well-tailored black dinner jackets slimmed the tubbier men. Pepper looked like a Hollywood queen in a long white sheath and a glittering diamond-and-emerald choker and bracelet. She’d gotten her wish—her emeralds were bigger than Beth’s. Helen thought the choker was an oddly symbolic choice.

Beth could still command a catwalk in her sleek black strapless column set off by vivid floral bands. Helen recognized the gown from Armani Privé’s “homage to Japan” collection. Beth had arranged her blond hair geisha-style.

Rosette wore an aquamarine necklace and a prosaically pricey evening gown striped in Caribbean colors that bared her scrawny arms.

Helen could feel the group’s almost theatrical excitement. They were looking forward to dinner—and to their own grand entrance.

Once they were gone, Mira rushed off to clean the master stateroom. Helen ran downstairs to take more towels out of the dryer and throw in a load of crew laundry. Mitzi trotted behind her. Helen poured the poodle some Fiji water, scratched her soft ears and carefully shut her in the crew mess. Its tile floors were easier to clean than the carpet. Mitzi happily chewed on a peanut butter treat.

The Paradise stateroom wasn’t too bad, but Bimini was a wreck, thanks to Ralph. He flung his clothes about like confetti. The bathroom was unspeakable. The man wasn’t as housebroken as Mitzi.

She was scrubbing the gold fixtures when she heard Mira scream: “Helen, what have you done?” She hurried into the crew mess.

“Why did you wash a red T-shirt with the white polos?” Mira asked. She held up a wet red shirt. “This is Matt’s new T-shirt. You threw it in with the crew polos and dyed them pink.”

“I’m sorry,” Helen said. “What do I do now?”

“The rest of the crew laundry,” Mira said, “so they have enough
white
shirts for tomorrow. And this time, separate the colors.”

“Is there any way I can make up for this?” Helen said.

“You already did,” Mira said. “You took tonight’s watch. Everyone makes mistakes. Just don’t do it again, okay?” She smiled. “It’s ten thirty. I’m leaving.”

“I’ll throw in another load of guest towels after I ruin the rest of the crew’s laundry,” Helen said. Mira laughed.

Helen yawned. “I need to rest while the owners and guests are at dinner.”

At last, Mira was gone and Helen was alone. Time to search the cabin she never got to share with Louise. Both bunks were made, their covers drawn tight. Louise’s three drawers were empty. None of her things were in the closet. Nothing was under Helen’s bunk.

She found traces of sticky tape on the wall over Louise’s bunk. Did the stew take a family photo or boyfriend’s picture?

Louise’s toothpaste and toiletries weren’t in the bathroom cabinet. Helen opened a bottle of aspirin and shook out two tablets—not worth packing. Neither was the small box of tampons. But it rattled oddly when Helen moved it. Inside was a prescription bottle for Louise Minette, filled with half-orange, half-white capsules. “Dilantin,” the label read. What was that?

Helen fished her BlackBerry out of her purse and Googled “Dilantin.” It was an antiseizure drug. Could Louise work on a yacht if she took that? Maybe that was why she’d hidden it. Would she leave it behind? If Louise had a seizure on the trip home, she could die. Unless she never made that trip. In that case, where were her luggage and her purse?

Helen would have to tell the captain what she’d discovered. In the meantime, she left the tampon box there.

I’ve found something, Helen thought. She punched in Phil’s number. She felt like she’d been away for a month instead of a day.

“Helen!” he said. “I’ve missed you. I had a break in the case.”

“Tell me,” she said.

“I can’t use names on a cell phone. Too risky. I followed the lady this afternoon—or rather Bob the Cool Guy did. He drove north to Deer in the Headlights, a bar in Deerfield Beach. Cool Bob got out his toolbox and followed her into the bar. Let me tell you, she was one hot widow in a red strapless top, skintight black pants and red heels.”

“You’re quite the fashion expert,” Helen said.

“Bob is a trained observer,” Phil said. “He observed the subject throwing herself into the arms of a shaggy-haired surfer dude. He must have been in mourning, too. He wore a tight black T-shirt and jeans.

“Bob told the waitress he was there to check the air-conditioning vents. He went around the corner from the lady and Surfer Dude’s booth, opened his stepladder and unscrewed the vent cover. Bob heard everything the lady and the dude said.”

“Very cool,” Helen said. “What was it?”

“I’ll tell you as soon as you get back,” he said.

“Can’t you give me a hint?” Helen begged.

“All I can say is our client was right. The lady has a boyfriend.”

“Anything else?” Helen asked.

“Oh, yes,” Phil said. “Your sister’s called four times so far tonight. She won’t say why, but she wants to talk to you, no matter how late.”

“I’ll call as soon as I hang up,” Helen said, hoping her voice didn’t shake. She had a good idea why Kathy had called.

“How about you?” Phil asked. “How was your trip?”

“Rough,” Helen said. “A waterspout was sighted and we had to find a safe harbor in Bimini. Then Louise the second stewardess disappeared—or quit; I can’t tell which. She supposedly hitched a ride home on a Miami fishing charter. The Bahamian officials are looking for her. But Louise left behind some seizure medicine. I think that points to a disappearance.”

“Why would she quit like that?” Phil asked.

“She’s sick of her job and wants to be with her boyfriend in Fort Lauderdale. I heard her say that myself. But if she didn’t take that charter boat, she must have fallen overboard. That means she’s dead, Phil. It makes me sick to think about it.

“Oh, and a guest used to date a hooker with the same name as our client’s stepmother. Can you e-mail me the photo you took of her? I want to show it to the captain.”

“And the other staff, too,” Phil said.

“No, I’m supposed to be undercover,” Helen said. “There’s a lot going on here. I think the first mate is smuggling something. The creepy first engineer, Andrei, met some guy at the Lauderdale marina and he may have made plans to meet up with someone tonight. Everybody is off the yacht now except me. Wait a minute! Phil!”