Mask on the Cruise Ship (14 page)

“What's this about Sol's Salami?” asked Madge, coming up behind me. She gave an elaborate shudder. “Surely we can be spared listening to that while we're on vacation … Do you know where Jack is?”

Madge was wearing an elegant, belted gray raincoat. A dark green scarf covered her head, then wound round her neck with the ends not showing at all. How
did
Madge always manage to look so tidy?

She caught me staring at her scarf. “
You
should think about headgear, Dinah. Your hair has frizzed into a giant cloud. Watch out! You'll probably get planes flying through it.”

“Sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of your sweatshirt continuing to rip,” I sniped back.

There came a weary “Girls … ” from Mother, behind us, and we lapsed into a truce-like silence.

Mother wasn't the only one behind us. Other cabs had emptied out more
Empress Marie
passengers. Most of them immediately put up umbrellas. The effect was that the crowd rushing into the museum turned into a rainbow of circles rather than people.

Talbot St. John got out of a cab. He did a double-take at me. “Do you have something against rubber ducks?” I demanded — then an arm shot out from under a massive pink umbrella edged by large, plastic red roses and yanked him out of sight.

As Madge stepped round the totem pole, Jack jumped out at her. “Boo!”

So
immature, I thought.

I must've been scowling, because Mother linked an arm through mine and soothed, “They won't be getting married any time soon, Dinah. I've told them they have to be well settled into their post-secondary courses — Jack at the University of British Columbia, Madge at Emily Carr — before they can even
think
about it.”

“And at that point I hope you'll tell them to totally forget it,” I said. “Statistics show — ”

Mother cut me off hurriedly. “That's all right, dear. In an uncertain world, you can't blame people for wanting to secure the one thing they're sure of.”

“What's that?”

“Love, of course,” Mother said patiently.

I made loud retching noises. Together, we followed the last of the colorful circles into the museum.

I met up with Raven
again in the Saxman Totem Park, three miles south of Ketchikan. The Tlingit park has the world's largest collection of freestanding totem poles. There were lots of Ravens, as well as, among others: eagles, which the Tlingit consider to be very spiritual; wolves, whose mask the headman of a clan will wear to show his leadership; and warriors, whose fierce, defiant features were earned in battle.

So Mother explained to us, reading out of a by now well-thumbed book on spirit legends. There are advantages to having a librarian as your maternal unit.

Walking around on my own, I forgot about other people. They just kind of faded. All I could see were the faces on the totem poles. The more I looked at them, the more they thrust themselves forward, looming at me one after another. But looming in a friendly way, if you know what I mean, even the warriors.

Madge must've felt the same, because, oblivious to the rain, she dropped her umbrella, pulled out her sketchbook and began drawing the faces. And this was someone who protected her hair at all costs from the tiniest drip. Eventually Jack noticed her getting soaked and hoisted the umbrella over her head while she worked.

Later, on a rare Good Samaritan impulse, I took over for him so he could wander around some more. I wheedled Madge into sketching a Raven face for me. I'd put it up in my room at home, beside my poster of Judy Garland belting out at Carnegie Hall.

“You've caught them
perfectly,” someone said, and we turned to see a woman with glossy black hair tucked into a cap. She smiled, displaying lots of laugh wrinkles. “The features in Tlingit art tend to be broad and bold, very distinctive.”

There was something distinctive about the woman, too — distinctively familiar. I goggled at her before gasping out, “You're Elaine Hébert! Except for the cheerful expression, you look just like your stepsister.”

The woman held out her hand. “Having heard what Julie's been up to, I'm semi-cheerful, at any rate. I'm sorry to intrude. I guessed you were the Galloway sisters; Captain Heidgarten told me you might be here. I wanted to thank you both. I understand that, because of you, we may be able to retrieve the mask.”

“The particular Galloway you should thank would be my intrepid sister Dinah, not me,” Madge said, shaking Elaine's hand.

I stopped gaping at Elaine long enough to demand, “Did the police catch Julie and Gooseberry Eyes?”

Elaine shrugged sadly. She also remained calm and nice when, in my excitement, I forgot to hold the umbrella straight and bonked her on the head with one of the spokes. “The police nabbed Julie, though they haven't recovered the mask yet. No sign of Julie's accomplice, either — er, Gooseberry Eyes.”

Elaine sighed and looked even sadder, which made me feel twice as bad about bonking her on the head.

“I knew Julie was feeling bitter, but I didn't know how deep the bitterness went,” Elaine confided. “You see, a couple of months ago, at Julie's insistence, I had an art-dealer friend assess Julie's paintings. Julie's been intense about her art for years, ever since our parents died. I think plunging into art was her way of blocking out the pain of only having known my dad and stepmother — her real mother — until she was age five. My own mom, who was divorced from my dad, raised us and, I'm afraid, always favored me.

“Anyhow, Julie had been begging me to invite him over, so I did. First she prepared dinner for all of us,” Elaine explained. “Julie's pretty good in the kitchen — I'd finally convinced her to move in with me, out of her dingy apartment on Cadwallader, on the basis that she'd be earning her rent by cooking.

“Even a delicious meal couldn't soften the art dealer's opinion once he got a look at her paintings. His verdict was far different than Julie had hoped. He said she had little or no talent. Suggested, if she enjoyed painting, she keep it up as a hobby while she pursued something she was talented at, like cooking, or sports.

“He meant that, at least, as a compliment, but Julie was FURIOUS. Threw a tremendous tantrum in front of the art dealer and myself. Said I'd told the art dealer to find fault with her art so she wouldn't continue with it. And then — she trashed my house! A complete rampage. It was dreadful.”

With the back of her palm, Elaine wiped away a tear. “Julie showed up the following afternoon at the Vancouver Roundhouse Community Center, where I was lecturing to a high school class, and — you'll never believe it — ”

“Oh yes I will,” I piped up. “She threw another tantrum. I know all about it.”

Surprised, Elaine mustered a wan smile. “Well, Captain Heidgarten told me you were quite the sleuth, Dinah.” She wiped some more tears away. “Anyhow, I thought a cruise would cheer Julie up, but it only seems to have inspired her to criminal scheming.

“And yet Julie has other, genuine talents. As I say, she's a wonderful cook and athlete. Maybe, with help, one day she'll learn to appreciate herself rather than trying to be something she's not.”

With that pronouncement, Elaine broke into out-and-out sobbing. On a rare tactful impulse, I refrained from blurting out my next question, which was why Elaine had forbidden Julie to talk to people about the mask and about myths in general. If she wanted Julie to feel better about herself, why
not
let her do some public speaking or whatever?

Instead I thought about how Julie, that evening at our place, had remarked of the Raven:
I think if you were that
clever, that capable of fooling others, it would be hard to
stay on the straight and narrow all the time.

Which, in a way, had been a confession, if only I'd listened more carefully. Julie thought
she
was Raven-clever — and had no intention of staying on the straight and narrow.

Madge was thinking about Julie too. She mused, “It's as if Julie has a warped mirror in her brain, which distorts her view of life.”

“
Please
, Madge,” I begged. “I want to know about Gooseberry Eyes.”

Elaine shook her head. “Julie's accomplice got the wind up. The Blandish Arms Hotel concierge described a young man with pale-colored eyes who bolted when the police cruisers pulled up. Maybe the police will find the mask, eventually … ”

Her voice trailed off, leaving a hopeless silence that only the patter of rain filled.

Chapter 16
Now you see Dinah — now you don't

V
ANISHED, WITHOUT A TRACE!

Everyone stopped in front of the gigantic Hans and Roman poster before continuing on, with excited murmurs, into the ballroom where the two magicians would be performing. The poster showed them ushering a young woman into a large, upright coffin, then opening the coffin lid to reveal — nothing!

“I wish they could make some of these pounds vanish,” remarked Madge, with a regretful glance down at her tummy. Which was, needless to say, flat and slim as ever.

“STUFF AND NONSENSE!” Ira Stone bellowed, dark eyes blazing.

Madge looked around, startled, but he was bellowing at Lavinia O'Herlihy. Ira was hobbling as fast as he could to outpace Lavinia; she was in grim pursuit.

“Stuff and nonsense. My sentiments exactly,” Jack grinned. He lifted Madge's hand, which he was holding, and kissed it. “All we were eating was salmon, my vain one-and-only.”

“Pounds and pounds of it,” Madge mourned.

It was true. After touring the Saxman Totem Park, we'd sat down to a massive salmon feast in the Saxman Tribal Village. And I do mean massive. Ketchikan is known as the King Salmon Capital of the world; its peaceful waters teem with nummy fish.

I understood how Madge felt. I had tucked back so much I was practically sprouting gills.

Ahead of us, Lavinia clamped a blue-veined hand on one of Ira's stooped shoulders. “Trying to ditch me after all I've done for you,” she scolded. Tightening her hold, she marched him on into the ballroom.

“Poor Ira,” said Mother. “Lavinia's determined to snag him, no matter what. I bet he signed on for this cruise expecting it to be restful.”

I giggled. “Maybe Hans and Roman will make Lavinia disappear,” I suggested.

“She'd just faint,” said Jack, wrinkling his freckled nose. No doubt he was remembering the dousing he'd received of Lavinia's perfume.

Brrring!

“My cell phone,” Mother said in surprise. “I thought I'd turned it off. I didn't want it pealing out while Hans and Roman were busy extracting rabbits from hats.”

She rummaged for the cell phone. This was just as much of a magic trick as anything Hans and Roman could do, the purse was so crammed.

I cleared my throat. “
I
switched the phone on, Mother. I left a message for Mr. Wellman.”

“Hi, Mr. W.,” Mother said into the phone. She gave it to me and warned, “Don't talk too long. If you come in after the lights go down, you won't be able to see us. And vice versa.”

“I'll find you,” I promised. “And no frantic signals to get my attention, Mother. It's so humiliating.”

On the phone, my agent interrupted. “Dinah, keep in mind that I'm in my sixties now. I have only so much time left on this earth.”

I backed against the wall, out of the stream of people. “Sorry, Mr. Wellman. I wanted to ask you a few questions about Julie Hébert.”

Mr. Wellman's voice grew uneasy. “I heard a news report about theft, false identity, a police arrest and a lot of commotion in general, all to do with the
Empress Marie
. You wouldn't be involved in that commotion, would you, Dinah?”

“Heavily,” I assured him. “But c'mon, Mr. Wellman. You spent time with Julie. Did she ever mention any friends to you? I'm trying to figure out who Goose — who her accomplice is.”

“Ah, accomplices. The plot thickens,” said Mr. Wellman, who, when he forgot to lecture his clients about being well-behaved, had quite a touch of melodrama. “I never heard her mention anyone, except Elaine. Hold on, though. The one time I visited her at Elaine's house — what a messy place, by the way! — Julie had a call on her cell. Answering it, she said, ‘Hi, Peabody.'
Peabody
!” Mr. Wellman laughed. “Do you know, Mr. Peabody used to be a dog in a cartoon I used to watch as a boy. Those were the days of great animation, I tell — ”

“Never mind about childhood nostalgia,” I cut in rudely. Honestly — grown-ups! “If Julie's caller was ‘Peabody,' the plot doesn't just thicken, it
cements
.” I was remembering the note in Mr. Trotter's side office, on top of the empty file folder:

Mr. Trotter —

Borrowed the contents of this for a while. Hope you
don't mind.

— Peabody Roberts

“Peabody's the name of someone who works at Happy Escapes Cruise Lines,” I exclaimed. “I have to tell Mother and Captain Heidgarten. Not to mention Mr. Trotter. His mustache will probably fall right off! If only the Hans and Roman show wasn't starting now … ”

“Hans and Roman? Hey, I'd love to represent those two. Maybe you could approach 'em after the show and recommend Wellman Talent. You could … ”

I placed the edge of a bitten-down fingernail on the cell's mouthpiece and scratched it back and forth. I was getting quite good at this. “Uh-oh, static, Mr. W. Bye now.”

What Mother had
warned me about had happened. I'd talked too long, and now the ballroom was dark. I stood helplessly inside the now closed double doors, unable to see anyone.

Anyone in the audience, that is. On a shimmering silver stage, Hans and Roman, in sequined tuxedos, were brandishing wands. Out of the wands' tips flew huge pink bubbles that bounced through the air and into the audience. Hans and Roman grinned above their pointy beards. In mid-air, the bubbles launching from the wands changed to blue.