Stowaway (7 page)

“He can see some
basic shapes and outlines,” she explains to me. “That is all. That is why you
hired me, remember Carl?”

“Teresa has only
been my nurse for a few weeks,” he responds. “I’m afraid she’s just a bit
overprotective and still settling into the role.”

As Carl speaks, Major
finally stops screeching and stares directly at me out his wire mesh door. I
freeze, like he can identify me in a prison lineup or something. But, he
actually seems kind of happy to see me. As far as I can tell, that is. I don’t
speak monkey. Even Teresa notices.

“Well, isn’t that
something?” she says. “Major has gotten quiet for once. He has been so stressed
by this trip that when Carl insists we take him out of the room, I generally
just crate him. Otherwise he’s pulling my arm off. Thank goodness this thing
has wheels.”

We finally
introduce ourselves,
then
she continues on about Carl.

“Carl is obsessed
with a hideous painting in the art gallery. He can’t even see the colors in it,
but insists on viewing the depressing thing daily while we are here. That’s
where he was probably headed.”

Carl nods yes, and
then she continues, like he can’t tell me about himself.

“Anyway, he owns
others in the series, you see, and has ideas of purchasing this last one at the
auction being held tomorrow.”

“Is it the
DuPorte
?” I ask.

“You know
Blue
?”
interrupts Carl, animated for the first time. “It will complete my collection.”

“I only know what
I have heard about it the past couple of days. I know it is supposed to be
magnificent, but I have to admit, I agree with Teresa. I don’t care for it.”

“That’s alright.
One less opponent to outbid me,” he smiles. “Thank you again for pointing me in
the proper direction, Miss Swift. Well Teresa, it must be getting on brunch
time. Shall we?”

I tell them
goodbye and wander past the Guest Services desk on my way to find Luke. I need
to stick close to him, protect him somehow. It’s my fault his life is in
danger. Also, I need him. He knows this ship inside and out.

“I told you, there
is no way he could just be exploring the ship,” a woman is frantically saying
to a purser. “George is missing!”

I
pause,
pretend to check something on my mostly
non-functional phone while I eavesdrop. A missing person can be no coincidence.

“Mrs. Brightly,”
the purser says soothingly, “we will do everything we can to locate your
husband. I’m sure he couldn’t have gone far. He’s only been out-of-pocket since
last night and we are at sea, after all. Maybe he simply slept off an enjoyable
evening away from your cabin.”

The woman shakes
her head no, and looks defeated.

“That’s just not
like George. I didn’t even want to come on this trip. I wanted to fly to Paris
and eat pastries under the Eiffel Tower. But no! George is an art dealer and
insisted on trying to acquire that ugly
DuPorte
for
his museum’s collection. I should have never let him leave to get that midnight
snack!”

She digs out a
picture, and passes it to the desk manager.

“Would you at
least take this? It’s of George. In case you see him.”

“Absolutely,
ma’am.”

He looks glad to
just have her leave. I need to see that picture closer, so I walk over.

“Sir?
I’m afraid the sink faucet drips in my room. Can you have someone come check it
today?”

“Of
course, ma’am.
Let me just get the form to fill out.”

He turns his back,
reaching for the form. No one else is looking. The photo is right by my elbow,
so I sneak my phone up and snap a quick shot of it before he turns back.

“Here you go,
ma’am.”

“You know what? I
really need to go meet someone right now. Can I just take it with me and fill
it out later?”

“Of
course.”

I grab the form,
walk away and dump it in the first trash can I find that is out of sight of the
Guest Services desk. After looking all over, I finally see Luke.
Right where I left him.

“Luke!”

He is still out of
sorts, still wearing that ridiculous cap and sunglasses.

“Luke, I need you
to focus! I have a picture of the dead man. The first one!
And,
his identity.
His name is George Brightly. He is an art collector for a
museum.”

That perks him up.

“Let me see.”

I proudly hand the
phone to Luke. He removes the sunglasses, folds them up and places them into
his shirt pocket in order to look over every pixel of the image.

“Um, did you even
look when you took this?”

“Not really, I was
in a hurry. Why?”

“Part of the guy’s
chin is cut off. At least he’s still recognizable.”

“At least, we know
who he is now, no thanks to you!” I say angrily. After all, I not only proved
the victim existed, but have a photo and details about him. Luke backs down.

“Alright, I’m
sorry. We don’t need to be talking about this here. Come with me.”

We duck deeper
into the hull, where Luke guides me to an empty lounge. He chooses a sofa,
which he moves to an angle where we can see anyone coming in the door before
they arrive.

“Now,” he says,
flopping down and tossing his cap on a side table, “we know who was killed.
But why?
And, by whom?”

“He brought a bag
with him and did something to the painting.”

“Ok, maybe he was
attempting to steal it?”

“Maybe, but he
didn’t get to. I saw him put it back before he was killed.”

“Then, we need to
take a look at it.
Up close.”

“Luke, I saw it
right after. He didn’t get a chance to do anything with it. Thank goodness.”

“No, why would he
go to such effort to sneak in, pull a painting down and then not take it
immediately? If he put it back, there is a reason. Let’s go.”

I lead the way to
the gallery. The curator gives us the same curt nod he does everyone else as we
join the crowd wandering through. I notice he keeps a watchful eye on a certain
blue painting.

“Look close at
it,” whispers Luke, when we reach the
DuPorte
. “I’m
going around to the side to see if I can tell if there’s anything odd about the
back of it.”

I am studying the
textured blue waves when I hear it.
Clicking.
It’s as
steady as a heartbeat and totally distracting me from my task. It is as annoying
as its owner. Mike.

Finally, I turn. I
am just in time to see the sleazy scumbag leaning in toward some unsuspecting
woman who has left her over the shoulder purse open. Her wallet peeks out and I
can almost see him drooling. I stride over.

“Excuse me,
ma’am,” I say, roughly shoving my way between them. “I need to speak to this
man.”

She looks
offended, and shoots me a nasty look before leaving in a huff.

“Mike! What are
you doing here?” I whisper.

“Oh
you.
What, do you change looks every day? I’m not
gonna
fall for it this time, doll.
You‘re messing up business for
me.
Go away!”

“That’s my line!”

 
I wait for him to wander off, but he doesn’t
move. He just keeps standing there, clicking his stupid lighter. I wonder why,
because he’s not going to steal anything with me standing here watching him.
He’d do better to move on, but instead, he stays rooted in place. It’s
suspicious.

“Why are you still
here?” I finally say.

He pauses the
clicking.

“I’m keeping an
eye on my investment. It just so happened I got a chance at a little side job
with that woman, so I thought I’d go for it. It would have worked too, if you
hadn’t shown up.”

He flicks open the
dented aluminum lighter again to resume his maddening beat, and I realize
something. The lid’s jagged, battered edge is small, but sharp enough to slice
somebody’s jugular and take them down. Maybe Mike is smarter than he’s letting
on. I want to know what he meant about his investment.

“Come with me,
Mike.”

“No! I don’t like
your tone. Besides, I don’t even know your name, doll. I do have standards
about the kind of women I go home with.”

“Do you see the
bruises on my arms, Mike?”

“Geez!
Those look like they hurt.”

“You should see
the other guy. He was the last one to argue with me.”

“Oh,
kinky.
You’re that kind of girl.”

He looks nervous,
but intrigued.
Puts the lighter away into his pocket with a
shaky hand.

“No, I am not
‘that kind of girl’! What do you take me for, Mike? Listen, my name is Maggie
Swift.
Short for Magnum, because my father was a gun dealer.”

I am standing just
behind Mike’s left shoulder now, whispering into his ear. I lean in and jab a
finger into his back, to confirm my seriousness, as I speak.

“I learned a lot
from him about persuading people.
Any more questions?
Now, come on!”

I glare at the
skinny twerp, who finally makes a move for the exit. I’ve never actually used a
gun and wouldn’t be able to even fake it, so I am relieved he looks terrified
at just a mention of one. That was easy.
Too easy.
In
fact, he’s now shrinking away from me into the crowd, so I chase after him.

“Seriously?”
I wheeze, as I quickly catch up to him and grab his bony little arm. “I said I
need to talk to you. Are you going to put up a fight?”

“N-no,” he
stammers.

“Good. Let’s go.”

I catch Luke’s eye
as I pass by, roughly prodding Mike along. He’s heard everything, and follows
us out and down to the stairs.

“Who’s this guy?”
complains Mike when he notices Luke. I notice it takes him quite a while to do
so.

“Doesn’t
matter, Mike.
This is between me and you. Let’s call him backup.”

Mike is silent
until I plunk him down on the sofa in the lounge Luke and I sat at not a half
hour ago.

“Alright,” I say.
“Start talking. What’s this about an investment? And, you mentioned a big pay
day at the bar the last time I saw you. Explain that too.”

“Uh-uh,” he says
as he shakes his head.
“Nope.
A professional never
reveals his secrets.”

“Please! You are
not a professional, at least not a competent one. You really do want to eat
pepper spray, don’t you?”

“Pepper spray? You
mean
,
you don’t have a gun?”

He looks to Luke
for confirmation. Luke just shrugs. Guess he doesn’t want in the middle of
this.

“You thought I had
a gun?”

“Well yeah! With
all that talk about, ‘my name is Magnum, and my father is a gun dealer. I
learned a
lot
from him.’ And, then you stuck the pistol in my back. I
connected the dots, doll!”

“Well, you
connected them the wrong way, Mike. I don’t have a gun, just a finger. But, I
do have a very real can of pepper spray if you don’t shut up and listen. Look,
two guys have already died for that painting since this cruise began. I need to
know what you do before I become number three.”

That got his
attention, so I plunge on in with a lie that is sure to make him squirm.

“I know you have
something to do with those homicides, Mike. Start talking.”

“What! I’m no
murderer!” he shrieks, jumping back. Yep, it worked. He looks ready to bolt.
Luke puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him seated, while I get right in his
face.

“Prove it,” I say.
“I think that metal lighter of yours could be the weapon for the first killing.
It’s sharp enough and about the right size. Don’t you think, Luke?”

Luke nods and
leans in threateningly.

Mike pales and his
lighter clatters across the table. His eyes dart around like a trapped wild
animal and he is panting.

“She’s right,”
says Luke. “You have obviously showed interest in the painting, and it could
mean a lot of extra money for you if your partner suddenly disappeared.”

“No! That isn’t
true!” Mike croaks.

“Look, we already
know you have no problem stealing, and it’s just a short hop to murder, right?”
I say, inches from his crooked, rat-like nose.
“Especially if
you are a poor thief, getting nowhere?
You’ve got motive and means,
Mike, and are a very nice fit for this. Luke, I think it’s time we notified the
ship’s security.”

“Wait! No, it’s
like this. Uh, this guy paid me to watch that painting for him.
 
He just wanted to make sure nobody bothered
it. That’s all. I swear!”

“When did you meet
him?”

“Right after we
boarded. I tried to pick his pocket, but he caught me. He was going to turn me
in, but decided to hire me instead. Said I just had to watch this dumb blue
painting from the next morning until the auction. He paid some upfront and said
he’d pay me rest after the sale. That was the big payday I meant.”

“What was his
name?”

“George
something.”

I flash my phone
picture in his face.

“
This the
guy?
Brightly?”

“Yeah, but how did
you know that?”

“He’s dead. His
wife is looking for him.”

“Oh man! How will
I get paid now?”

“You’re a real
sweetheart, aren’t you, Mike?”

“Nice
of you to finally notice, doll.”

Luke and I look at
each other. We are both thinking the same thing: No way Mike has it in him to
pull off either murder. And, no way is he strong enough. Much as I hate to
admit it, I believe that he is telling the truth.

Luke motions for
me to let him take the lead with Mike, so I step back and give him the floor.