“That little tart would,” Beth said. “Probably got a free case. Send someone out to buy Fiji. Send him. He’s just standing there.” She pointed at Andrei. His olive skin went a shade darker. The mighty engineer was not supposed to be an errand boy, but he started obediently toward the parking lot.
“Suzanne, did you fix Mitzi’s food?” Beth asked.
“I baked the organic peanut butter treats she likes,” the chef said, “and made her organic chicken and rice.”
If I hate cleaning up after a dog, Helen thought, I wonder how our chef feels about fixing canine cuisine.
“Here, doggy,” Helen said. She wasn’t a dog lover and Mitzi knew it. The poodle stayed rooted to the teak deck. Helen gave up coaxing Mitzi, picked her up and carried her off the boat.
On the dock, Mitzi anointed the pilings while Helen said, “Good dog.” When she got home, she’d give Thumbs an extra treat for being an uncomplicated cat.
She wished she’d brought along her BlackBerry. She was worried her sister would get a call from the blackmailer and panic.
“Hey!” a man said. “Should you be walking alone with thirty thousand dollars’ worth of emeralds?”
Helen jumped and turned around. Andrei, the first engineer and Fiji fetcher, swaggered up to her as if he were the hottest man on the yacht. He had a cheesy seventies handsomeness. What did he use on his hair? Engine oil?
Andrei’s small brown eyes looked shifty, but Helen wondered if she was influenced by the captain’s suspicion that he might be the smuggler.
He held out a calloused hand. “Andrei,” he said. “I was busy when Mira showed you around. Now I have to be an errand boy for this mutt. I should wring her neck and take the collar and leash. She’s wearing round-cut emeralds. That’s an uncommon cut.”
“It is?” Helen asked. “Why?”
“The classic emerald cut yields a bigger stone with fewer inclusions.”
Inclusions. Helen had heard that word before—from Max the smuggler. She decided to see how much Andrei knew. “What are inclusions?”
“Flaws,” Andrei said. “Emeralds aren’t as hard as diamonds. Too many inclusions can destroy the value.” He crouched down to examine Mitzi’s collar. The dog growled at him.
“Mitzi has ten round-cut emeralds on her collar and six more on the leash. The colors are fantastic and the polish is excellent. I’d say they’re worth about two thousand dollars a carat.”
“You know a lot about emeralds,” Helen said. No wonder the captain was suspicious.
“I get around.” Andrei flashed his white teeth. “What about you?”
“I live in Fort Lauderdale,” Helen said, ignoring his double entendre.
“I mean, wanna hook up? She doesn’t know how long it takes me to buy Fiji water, and it’s going to be a long, hard night. I could give you something long and hard before we cruise.”
What a sleaze, Helen thought. “Not interested. I have someone.”
“Bet he’s not as good as me.” He thrust his hips forward.
Ew, Helen thought. “I’m busy,” she said.
“Watching a dog pee?” he asked.
“Better than hanging with a hound,” Helen said. She picked up Mitzi and carried her back toward the yacht. Why did Andrei have to look and sound like a classic villain?
It made this job tougher.
CHAPTER 20
Helen’s two-way radio crackled as she was smoothing the duvet in the Paradise stateroom.
“Main salon head needs attention,” Mira said.
“Roger that,” Helen said.
Again? The yacht hadn’t even left port and this was the third time Helen had cleaned that head. Pepper had used it again. Helen recognized her candy pink lipstick on the discarded tissues. The flossy blonde was not a good sailor. She would earn those emeralds.
Helen grabbed her cleaning caddy, slipped on another pair of disposable gloves, bolted through the secret passage and sprinted up the crew mess steps to the on-deck head.
She was greeted by chaos. Pepper must have showered in the marble sink. Water was splashed on the floor, the mirror, even the hand-carved wall sconces. Helen brushed the toilet bowl, wiped the sink and carefully blotted the droplets off the hand-painted wallpaper. Both hand towels were streaked with mascara and lipstick. She replaced them. That made six towels in an hour—for one head. No wonder the crew did laundry eighteen hours a day.
She emptied the wastebasket and wiped the fingerprints off the light switch. Pepper had washed her hands with the Bvlgari soap bar, so Helen opened a fresh one—the third bar so far—and pocketed the damp bar, used once. It smelled heavenly. She hoped she got to use it in the bath she shared with Louise.
She surveyed the room and mentally went through her checklist. She’d missed something. Toilet paper! She folded the tissue into a neat point. Done.
The yacht hummed and rocked slightly. Helen wondered how long before it hit the six-foot waves. On the way back downstairs, Helen caught a glimpse of the port at night. The lights sparkled like jewels and the stars were diamonds on black velvet. The water was smooth and black as obsidian.
She wished Phil were here with her to enjoy the view. Her wistful longing was interrupted by the padded sound of shoes on the thick carpet. Guests! She mustn’t be seen. Helen picked up her caddy and disappeared down the stairs to finish the turndown service for the Paradise stateroom.
Scotty had unpacked his own luggage, and Helen wished he’d let her do it. He’d scattered cigar ashes over the carpet and desk and used a porcelain vase for an ashtray. She hoped the vanilla air freshener would disguise the cigar odor and it wouldn’t seep into the other rooms.
Bimini was next. Scrawny little Ralph Randolph was a big slob. He’d spilled champagne on the built-in dresser. Helen gave Mira a frantic radio call and the head stewardess told her how to fix the damage to the oak finish.
Ralph’s bathroom habits would shame a pig. Helen guessed she should be grateful Mrs. R. seemed neat. Her husband made enough mess for two people.
She wondered if she could get a minute to call her sister. She was worried the blackmailer would call Kathy again and demand more money. Her sister panicked every time he called. Last time she’d insisted Helen fly to St. Louis because Kathy was scared to leave the cash on the Dumpster.
Why shouldn’t she be? Helen told herself. The creep was threatening Kathy’s son—and your nephew. Your sister has every right to be afraid. You got her into this mess.
When Coronado Investigations started, Helen knew the day would come when she’d be stuck on a case when the blackmailer called. That’s why, on her last visit, she’d put Kathy’s name on Helen’s local bank accounts. Now her sister could withdraw money without Helen. But she worried that Kathy would be too afraid to go to the bank if he called.
Helen thought the blackmailer enjoyed Kathy’s fear almost as much as the money. She’ll be crazed when she discovers I’m out of the country. I’ll have to get her through this crisis long-distance.
But maybe the blackmailer hasn’t called. Maybe I’m just borrowing trouble. If I could get two minutes with my phone, I’d know for sure.
She was halfway down the passage to her cabin when her radio sputtered. “Mrs. Crowne has left the on-deck head,” Mira said.
Helen quietly cursed Pepper and her overbearing husband and went up the stairs with her cleaning caddy.
