“Got any hot sauce, Chef?” Earl asked.

“Six kinds,” Suzanne said. “Louisiana Hot Sauce, Tabasco sauce, Scorned Woman—”

“Stop! I’ll take Scorned Woman,” Earl said. “Don’t bother with a sissy bowl. Serve it straight from the bottle.”

Helen watched Earl drown his omelet in the fiery brownish sauce.

“Jeez, Earl, is your mouth lined with asbestos?” Scotty said.

“Best cure for a hangover I know,” Earl said as the sweat broke out on his forehead.

“The best cure I know is to keep drinking,” Scotty said.

All three men abandoned their breakfasts after a few bites. After two cups of coffee, Scotty was alert enough to ask, “Why are we anchored? This isn’t Atlantis.”

“Change of plans,” Earl said. “Captain got a warning about a waterspout last night and dropped anchor off Bimini. We have to go through customs at Alice Town when they open at eight. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to Atlantis this evening.”

“Think we better wake up the girls?” Scotty asked.

“Yap!” Mitzi said, and all three men winced.

“Beth is here,” Earl said.

Beth was a vision in an indigo linen pantsuit and a heavy Native American squash-blossom necklace. Languidly beautiful, she rolled Mitzi in an aqua stroller and parked it beside her chair. The poodle wore a silver squash-blossom collar studded with dark blue lapis.

Mitzi yapped again and Beth saw her husband frown. She cooed at the little poodle and fed her organic chicken and rice from a Spode bowl.

Rosette, thin and dried as a strip of leather, showed up about seven fifteen in a nautical striped top and linen pants. She played with her oatmeal. Beth squeezed lime juice on a mango and tortured it while she stuffed Mitzi with food to keep her quiet.

Everyone drank gallons of coffee, but nobody was hungry, except Pepper. She arrived at seven thirty, looking outrageously fresh in a white off-the-shoulder top and tight emerald green pants.

Pepper cheerfully attacked three fried eggs, bacon and half a loaf of toast. “I feel really good this morning after barfing my guts out all night,” she said.

Beth and Rosette glared at her but said nothing.

Scotty smiled his approval. “Good, you’re up early,” he said.

“I’m wearing my green outfit so we can go emerald shopping this morning,” Pepper said.

“We’re not shopping this morning,” Scotty said.

Pepper’s face fell and her candy pink lower lip trembled.

“We’ll get your emeralds,” Scotty said, gnawing on his cigar, “but the captain had to anchor in Bimini last night because the storm was so bad. We’ll go through customs here at Alice Town. Because you’ve been a good girl, I’ll buy you a bracelet and a necklace.”

Pepper squealed and hugged Scotty. He patted her round bottom. Rosette looked as disgusted as Helen felt. How could a woman stand being treated like a child? she wondered. Maybe the little-girl act was worth a lot of grown-up jewelry.

At seven forty-five, the captain appeared. Earl stood up. “Customs opens at eight. Let’s get moving,” he said. “When do we get to Atlantis, Captain?”

“If we get back to the boat by nine,” Josiah said, “it will take about half an hour to pull up the anchor and start the engines. If we’re lucky, we’ll be in Atlantis by seven thirty tonight.”

“So we can shop for emeralds today!” Pepper said.

“And have dinner at ten at Atlantis,” Beth said. “Mira, will you make reservations at Nobu for us?”

“What the hell’s Nobu?” Scotty asked.

“Nobu Matsuhisa has like the hottest Japanese restaurants in the world,” Pepper said. “We’re lucky Atlantis has one.”

“I don’t want Japanese hash,” he said. “I want real food.”

“You can still get your boring old steak,” Pepper said. “But, please, can’t we go? I was so sick during that awful storm.”

“And you can have steak for lunch, Scotty,” Beth said.

“Time’s a-wasting, people,” Earl said. When he herded his guests down the gangplank, the crew breathed a collective sigh of relief. Fifteen minutes later, Carl led the crew through customs.

On the short walk, Helen straggled behind the others, puzzling over Louise’s behavior and the captain’s question: Why would a lone woman get on a strange charter boat with a purse full of cash? She didn’t believe in blaming the victim, but that seemed like an invitation to rape and murder.

The soft Bahamian air, the warm April sunshine and Alice Town’s tiny yellow, red and aqua buildings were a pleasant distraction. Helen loved the Bahamian voices—light, soft and musical with a hint of clipped British vowels.

At the customs shed, a Bahamian agent gave an official smile. “Welcome to Alice Town, Captain Swingle,” he said.

“Glad to be here,” he said. “I heard the waterspout advisory and found a safe harbor here last night. One of my crew was so shaken by the rough seas she went back on another ship.”

Now the customs agent’s smile vanished. “What is this woman’s name?” he asked.

“Louise Renee Minette, of Fort Lauderdale,” the captain said. “She’s traveling back on a fishing charter operating out of Miami Beach, Aces High.”

“I do not remember any woman passenger aboard a charter boat by that name this morning,” the official said. “I will check the records. The charter can legally pick her up and take her back, but that captain has to clear her out of our country. If he did not, we will send customs agents after him.”

Good, Helen thought. We’ll know when Louise gets back to the USA—or if she doesn’t.

“No worries, Captain,” the official said. “She is not your responsibility anymore.”

Josiah Swingle smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.

CHAPTER 23

“It’s so big,” Pepper squealed. “I forgot how big it is. Especially from this angle.”

Mira was right, Helen thought. You could hear everything on the yacht—whether you wanted to or not. She eavesdropped while she collected empty Baccarat flutes as the yacht cruised into Atlantis.

Sunset stained the channel’s wide pearly water a luscious pink. Helen and Mira had been serving drinks and appetizers for nearly three hours. Beth and Rosette took well-bred sips and nibbles. Pepper attacked the puff pastries and chicken skewers as if she’d been marooned on a Bahamian island.

Scotty had spent the afternoon playing poker and pounding scotch. He was a genial drunk. He called Pepper “my lucky lady” and sat her on his knee. Pepper’s top was smudged with cigar ash, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“As soon as we dock, we’ll go shopping, just the two of us,” he told her. “Aren’t you glad you listened to me and went on the yacht?”

“No. I hurled all night,” Pepper said, and treated him to a delectable pout. “But this is awesome.”

Helen heard Rosette snort. “Awesome,” she muttered to her husband. “Only that brainless nitwit would say ‘awesome.’”

But Atlantis was awesome against the seashell pink sky. The monumental marina with its soaring granite walls and bronze dolphin sculptures could have been built by a god.

The Atlantis resort and casino is on Paradise Island, once called Hog Island. That name wouldn’t do when

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