Mask on the Cruise Ship (13 page)

Wait — the words were still there after all. Except for “Medusa.” I'd rubbed that off to reveal another word, the original word, underneath.

Elaine
.

Whoa. Talk about
your unflattering likeness. Julie had painted this horrid Medusa as a portrait of her sister! No wonder Medusa seemed familiar to me. It was the Hébert family resemblance.

Even if Elaine
was
uppity with her sister, she didn't deserve this. What a hateful way for Julie to portray her.

Then, breathily, through the open stateroom door: “Are you finished with my room, steward?”

Julie! Boy, that'd been a fast visit to Ketchikan.

“Yes, ma'am, I'm finished,” came the steward's cheery voice. “The door's open cuz your little buddy had to retrieve her hairclip. She must've scooted off — sorry, I
did
ask her to close the door. Aw, well, you know how kids are.”

“My little — you mean Dinah Galloway?” The whispery voice had a sudden forked-tongue-like sharpness to it.

Julie, I thought, was the true snakewoman.

I gulped. A snakewoman who might have an eagle eye — to spot, for example, the freshly wiped-off name
Elaine
on her painting.

Snakes, eagles … Enough with the animal analogies, Dinah. Julie was pushing the stateroom door wider open. Time for quick but rational action —

I dove under the bed.

Squashed in the narrow
space under the bed, I was regretting all those buffets. Why hadn't I been dainty, like Madge, and filled my plate with half grapefruits and slivers of cantaloupe?

My cat, Wilfred, would have loved it here, but I was waiting in agony for Julie to leave. I could only manage half breaths, at best.

She seemed in no hurry to go. I heard her rustling the brochures; then, horrors, she plunked down on the bed.
Oof!
I foresaw myself sliding out from under the bed later on, flattened into a coin and rolling out to the hall before the surprised gaze of the steward.

Ping, ping!
Julie was punching in cell-phone numbers. Great, a long, cozy chat with someone.

Julie didn't bother with greetings. “I'm going to be a bit late,” she said into the phone. “I left my wallet behind. Had to come back. You're at the Blandish Arms Hotel? … There's a coffee shop? … Good, I could use a particularly strong cup about now … No, there's no problem at this end, except for our nosy, sleuthing songbird.”

A nosy, sleuthing songbird. Ah. That would be me.

“Pity you let her mother see your eyes when you grabbed the Raven … Oh, I know, I know, you couldn't help it. But your eyes are so, er, distinctive.”

Holy Toledo! Julie was talking to —
Gooseberry Eyes
. She was in league with him!

My jaw would have thudded to the floor if it hadn't already been jammed up against it.

“Forget Mrs. Galloway,” Julie soothed into the cell phone. “I needed a witness, someone who'd vouch that the Raven was wrestled away from me. Suzanne makes the perfect witness. A mom. An upstanding citizen. No one would doubt her judgment.”

Julie gave a luxurious sigh. “With the proceeds of the mask, I can set up my own gallery. Just think of our oh-so-rosy future. You can help me run my gallery if you like. All I need is a chance to show my paintings to the world!” Julie's voice grew whiny. “It's so unfair that I haven't had one.”

Then the whining tone changed to a scornful laugh. “Amusing to think of the Juneau police bumbling about, trying to find the mask — those fools haven't the faintest hint!”

This can't get any worse, I thought in disgust.

It got worse. Julie put more of her weight on the bed. Her feet swung out of view; she was leaning. I heard her scrabble in the night-table drawer.

I couldn't help it. A squeak escaped me. Or was that my bones crunching?

“Now don't start complaining,” Julie snapped into the phone. “ … Oh yes you were. I heard you. You
bleated
.”

She listened for a moment and, in reply, her tone grew wheedling. “Okay, okay, don't get huffy. I know you're putting in lots of hours as a fence.”

By “fence” somehow I didn't think Julie meant the picket kind. Gooseberry Eyes was evidently touring around Alaska, a sort of illegal traveling salesman, trying to sell the Raven.

“But leave the decisions to me, okay?” Julie scolded. “For instance, I couldn't believe you showed up in the cruise ship terminal, and at the bottom of the gangway, yet, thinking we'd have time for a pre-cruise chat! Were you out of your mind? And did you have to be clumsy during every single fake-theft attempt? It gets so tiresome! … I know, I know, your mother didn't give you enough dairy products as a child, and your bones are weak. But shoving our little songbird into the lake — totally unnecessary, and a stupid risk, besides … Well, never mind. Concentrate on finding a buyer for us. You're the expert on who the buyers are here. It's your home state.”

With a
ping!
Julie shut off her cell phone. She rose abruptly. Her feet proceeded with springy, athletic strides to the door. Then she was gone.

There was a ripping
sound as I slid from under the bed. Too bad I'd pulled on one of Madge's sweatshirts this morning. My sister was so fussy about the state of her clothes. On the other hand, Madge
had
seemed to relax a bit on this trip. Maybe she wouldn't mind a weeny tear.

However, Madge's moods were the last thing on my mind right now. Julie was just as mixed up in the mask theft as Gooseberry Eyes! And every time the
Empress Marie
docked, Julie popped ashore to meet Gooseberry Eyes and discuss how the fencing of the mask was going.

I had to tell Captain Heidgarten right away.

Chapter 15
The Raven and the professor

I
tried not to talk too rapidly, as I do when I'm excited.

“Julie's been in cahoots with Gooseberry Eyes all along. She pretended to be worried about the mask's safety while planning with Gooseberry Eyes to steal it!”

I snapped my fingers — and noticed the bitten-off ends were starting to grow in again. Well, I'd tend to personal hygiene later.

I continued, as Captain Heidgarten regarded me with his bright blue eyes and Mr. Trotter spluttered. “In the phone call I overheard, Julie mentioned that Alaska was Gooseberry Eyes' ‘home state.' That's why he
faked
a few attempted thefts in Vancouver. This is where his fencing contacts are.”

By now Mr. Trotter was gaping as well as flushing. “Do — do you know you have a spring sticking out of your back?”

I stretched a hand round and felt a coil shape.
Boing!
“It's a bedspring,” I said impatiently. “Look, Mr. T., I think we should stay focused, okay?

“Now the
painting
,” I said to Captain Heidgarten. “The ultra-yechy painting of Medusa. Julie thinks it's a brilliant work — anyone else can tell it's ghastly! The only value of the painting, in my opinion, is that it tells us how Julie sees Elaine. Julie's jealous of Elaine's success and fame. Julie thinks the success and fame should be
hers
.”

More spluttering from Mr. Trotter. I decided it was best to ignore him, even though it sounded as if he was about to erupt like Mount St. Helens.

I said, “Julie kept telling us how artistic she was, and how interested she was in myths of different cultures. But she was also complaining about Elaine. This bothered me, and not just because it got so boring. Why would somebody as intelligent as Julie use up so much time griping?

“I mean,” and to help myself think it through, I began swinging my feet,
ponk, ponk, ponk
, against the front of Captain Heidgarten's mahogany desk, “I'd watch Julie's face while she went on and on about Elaine. The words coming out of Julie didn't match the sweet, patient person she was supposed to be. It was as if … ”

Ponk, ponk, ponk!
Any other grown-up would have told me off by now for inflicting furniture damage, but the Captain's bright blue eyes gleamed with understanding. He finished for me: “As if she'd been wearing a mask all along.”

“Yes!” I said.

“No,” moaned Mr. Trotter. By now he was so hot with agitation that his mustache curls were starting to droop.

Captain Heidgarten frowned at him. “Lionel, for heaven's sake, get a grip.”

The program director looked wildly about as if wondering where this grip might be. In the meantime, Captain Heidgarten dragged a Vancouver telephone directory from a mahogany cabinet. He flipped over great chunks of pages until “Ah, here we are. University of British Columbia … let's see, History Department … ”

He punched in the number and switched on his speakerphone.

“Good day,” said a stilted English voice. “This is the History —”

“Right,” interrupted Captain Heidgarten. “Can you please tell me how to get in touch with Professor Elaine Hébert?”

“Sightseeing!” I objected
as Captain Heidgarten propelled me rather forcibly along by the elbow. “The sight I want to see is Julie Hébert getting nabbed, along with her co-conspirator, Gooseberry Eyes, at the Blandish Arms Hotel.”

I also wanted to see the arrival of Elaine Hébert, who, in the wake of Captain Heidgarten's call, was flying up right away from her dig in northern B.C. Would Elaine clobber Julie? This could be interesting.

“Best leave it to the police,” Captain Heidgarten said, with annoying good humor. “Let them apprehend Julie at the Blandish Arms.”

After contacting the prof, Captain Heidgarten had phoned the police. Hadn't let me talk to them, though — not that I wasn't signaling wildly enough for his attention. In fact, with a frightened look at my gyrating arms, Mr. Trotter had covered his mustache protectively and scurried from the office.

Now Captain Heidgarten said, “Why, looky. There's your friend, about to go ashore too.”

I surveyed the people his big, sun-bronzed hand was waving towards. I didn't know any of them, except — oh, he
couldn't
mean …

“Talbot St. John?!” I said in deep disgust.

There was a crisp breeze on deck, and unfortunately it whisked my words right over to Talbot. He turned and for a second stared at me from under that soulful forelock.

“Yup, I saw you two eyeing each other on the train yesterday,” Captain Heidgarten went on playfully. “Adolescent crushes, eh?”

Talbot turned back to his mother, whose stiffly sprayed hair was resisting the breeze like an army helmet.

“You are so-o-o wrong,” I informed Captain Heidgarten. “In fact, just for
saying
that, you should be made to walk the plank.”

He laughed. I did not join him.

We reached Mother, Madge and Jack, who were waiting for me by the gangway. Captain Heidgarten summed up the Julie situation for them in a way that was both terse and reassuring. A good, Captainly way, I thought with approval — though I was still cross with him.

Their little meeting ended with Mother, Madge and Jack all agreeing to spirit me off for a busy afternoon of touristing.

“I wanted to help stake out the Blandish Arms,” I fumed as Captain Heidgarten strolled away.

Mother and Madge looked horrified, but Jack laughed. He pulled at the spring sticking out of the back of the sweatshirt I was wearing and let it
boing!
“I believe the idea of a stakeout is to have people waiting in absolute stillness and quiet for a prolonged period of time. That would disqualify
you
, Dinah-mite.”

“Dinah might not survive until the stakeout anyway,” remarked Madge, her eyes thinning into baleful blue slits. “That happens to be my cerise sweatshirt she's ruined.”

“ ‘Cerise'!” I exclaimed. “Is that like baseball? Like, the World Cerise?”

It was raining in
Ketchikan. Mother enfolded me in a bright yellow plastic poncho, which made me feel like a rubber duck.

Ketchikan gets a 162 inches of rain a year, making it the wettest city in southern Alaska. Jack announced in a know-it-all way that Vancouver, known for
its
rain, only gets forty-nine inches a year.

“Who cares? It's just water,” I shrugged. I was still in a bad mood about being excluded from the stakeout.

“That's what I could have said to you a few days ago about swimming,” Jack said, smiling. “When you were afraid of ‘just water.' Now you're treading water like a pro. Today, Jack French's swimming class. Tomorrow, the Olympics.”

I ignored him, even though the compliment pleased me. In the cab we got into, I traced the word UNFAIR on the fogged-up window. Why
couldn't
I help catch Julie and her co-conspirator, Gooseberry Eyes?

Then it occurred to me that “unfair” was what Julie Hébert had gone around saying all the time she was on the
Empress
. I didn't want to end up like her, too busy envying other people's lives to lead one of her own.

So I turned around and joined the others' conversation. Their oo's and ah's, anyway. We were passing the galleries and shops of the famous, once very wild-west-ish Creek Street, whose wooden houses were painted so vibrantly their colors shone, even in the rain.

And, in the rain,
I found the Raven.

He was in the act of stealing the sun, on a Tlingit Nation totem pole in front of the Tongass Historical Society Museum and Public Library. I stood by the totem pole and forgot about looking like a rubber duck. I grinned up at the Raven until the raindrops blotted my glasses. Then, in the raindrops' blur, I imagined he tipped his sharp-eyed glance at me for a second and winked.

Fine for you, I thought. You're smart. But
I
still can't remember the thing that bothered me at Mendenhall Glacier. In my memory of that icy episode, there's one chunk that's still frozen.

I removed my glasses, squinted at the Raven and sighed. “For the first time I sympathize with my family about the Sol's Salami jingle,” I confided, shifting from thinking to muttering. “I go around the house singing it all the time. The jingle drives Mother and Madge crazy, cuz it gets stuck in their heads. Well, now this question is stuck in mine, and it's driving
me
crazy.
Why was Lavinia crabby?
What is it I'm not remembering?”