towels out of the dryer and throw in a load of crew laundry. Mitzi trotted behind her. Helen poured the poodle some Fiji water, scratched her soft ears and carefully shut her in the crew mess. Its tile floors were easier to clean than the carpet. Mitzi happily chewed on a peanut butter treat.
The Paradise stateroom wasn’t too bad, but Bimini was a wreck, thanks to Ralph. He flung his clothes about like confetti. The bathroom was unspeakable. The man wasn’t as housebroken as Mitzi.
She was scrubbing the gold fixtures when she heard Mira scream: “Helen, what have you done?” She hurried into the crew mess.
“Why did you wash a red T-shirt with the white polos?” Mira asked. She held up a wet red shirt. “This is Matt’s new T-shirt. You threw it in with the crew polos and dyed them pink.”
“I’m sorry,” Helen said. “What do I do now?”
“The rest of the crew laundry,” Mira said, “so they have enough
“Is there any way I can make up for this?” Helen said.
“You already did,” Mira said. “You took tonight’s watch. Everyone makes mistakes. Just don’t do it again, okay?” She smiled. “It’s ten thirty. I’m leaving.”
“I’ll throw in another load of guest towels after I ruin the rest of the crew’s laundry,” Helen said. Mira laughed.
Helen yawned. “I need to rest while the owners and guests are at dinner.”
At last, Mira was gone and Helen was alone. Time to search the cabin she never got to share with Louise. Both bunks were made, their covers drawn tight. Louise’s three drawers were empty. None of her things were in the closet. Nothing was under Helen’s bunk.
She found traces of sticky tape on the wall over Louise’s bunk. Did the stew take a family photo or boyfriend’s picture?
Louise’s toothpaste and toiletries weren’t in the bathroom cabinet. Helen opened a bottle of aspirin and shook out two tablets—not worth packing. Neither was the small box of tampons. But it rattled oddly when Helen moved it. Inside was a prescription bottle for Louise Minette, filled with half-orange, half-white capsules. “Dilantin,” the label read. What was that?
Helen fished her BlackBerry out of her purse and Googled “Dilantin.” It was an antiseizure drug. Could Louise work on a yacht if she took that? Maybe that was why she’d hidden it. Would she leave it behind? If Louise had a seizure on the trip home, she could die. Unless she never made that trip. In that case, where were her luggage and her purse?
Helen would have to tell the captain what she’d discovered. In the meantime, she left the tampon box there.
I’ve found something, Helen thought. She punched in Phil’s number. She felt like she’d been away for a month instead of a day.
“Helen!” he said. “I’ve missed you. I had a break in the case.”
“Tell me,” she said.
“I can’t use names on a cell phone. Too risky. I followed the lady this afternoon—or rather Bob the Cool Guy did. He drove north to Deer in the Headlights, a bar in Deerfield Beach. Cool Bob got out his toolbox and followed her into the bar. Let me tell you, she was one hot widow in a red strapless top, skintight black pants and red heels.”
“You’re quite the fashion expert,” Helen said.
“Bob is a trained observer,” Phil said. “He observed the subject throwing herself into the arms of a shaggy- haired surfer dude. He must have been in mourning, too. He wore a tight black T-shirt and jeans.
“Bob told the waitress he was there to check the air-conditioning vents. He went around the corner from the lady and Surfer Dude’s booth, opened his stepladder and unscrewed the vent cover. Bob heard everything the lady and the dude said.”
“Very cool,” Helen said. “What was it?”
“I’ll tell you as soon as you get back,” he said.
“Can’t you give me a hint?” Helen begged.
“All I can say is our client was right. The lady has a boyfriend.”
“Anything else?” Helen asked.
“Oh, yes,” Phil said. “Your sister’s called four times so far tonight. She won’t say why, but she wants to talk to you, no matter how late.”
“I’ll call as soon as I hang up,” Helen said, hoping her voice didn’t shake. She had a good idea why Kathy had called.
“How about you?” Phil asked. “How was your trip?”
“Rough,” Helen said. “A waterspout was sighted and we had to find a safe harbor in Bimini. Then Louise the second stewardess disappeared—or quit; I can’t tell which. She supposedly hitched a ride home on a Miami fishing charter. The Bahamian officials are looking for her. But Louise left behind some seizure medicine. I think that points to a disappearance.”
“Why would she quit like that?” Phil asked.
“She’s sick of her job and wants to be with her boyfriend in Fort Lauderdale. I heard her say that myself. But if she didn’t take that charter boat, she must have fallen overboard. That means she’s dead, Phil. It makes me sick to think about it.
“Oh, and a guest used to date a hooker with the same name as our client’s stepmother. Can you e-mail me the photo you took of her? I want to show it to the captain.”
“And the other staff, too,” Phil said.
“No, I’m supposed to be undercover,” Helen said. “There’s a lot going on here. I think the first mate is smuggling something. The creepy first engineer, Andrei, met some guy at the Lauderdale marina and he may have made plans to meet up with someone tonight. Everybody is off the yacht now except me. Wait a minute! Phil!”
“What? Helen, talk to me.”
“There’s a little boat approaching the yacht,” Helen said. “It doesn’t have any running lights. Stay on the phone with me until I know who it is.”
Helen peered out the window on the main deck. “It’s the Bulgarian engineer. He’s staggering drunk and carrying something in his backpack. How did he get so smashed in two hours? He’s coming in by the swim platform. I’d better watch him in case he falls.”
“Helen! Don’t do anything stupid.”
“He’s so drunk he’s in more danger of hurting himself than me,” Helen said.
“Don’t hang up,” Phil said.
“Sh!” she said. “He’s aboard now, crashing around the lower aft deck. I’ll stay up on the main deck.”
Helen heard knocks, thunks and a curse as the Bulgarian engineer made his way to the crew mess. Then she heard a tremendous crash and a yip. What if that brute kicked the poodle?
“I think he hurt Mitzi,” Helen said. “I’m going downstairs to check. I’ll keep the phone on.”
“Helen! What do I do if anything’s wrong?”
“Call the captain’s cell phone. You have his number.”
Helen slipped her phone into her pocket and cautiously made her way down to the crew mess. Mitzi was cowering behind a laundry basket. The Bulgarian engineer was gobbling cold leftover pasta out of a plastic bowl. Next to him was a backpack with a square bulge.
“Helen!” His smile revealed yellow teeth. His accent was thicker when he was drunk. “Have surprise for you. You like chocolate, no?”
“Yes,” Helen said.
“Good. I bought big box of chocolate liqueur. Gourmet chocolate bottles filled with Jack Daniel’s, Grand Marnier, Cointreau, Baileys Irish Cream.” He patted the backpack. “You have some with me?”
“Sure,” Helen said. She wanted to see what was in that backpack.
“All ladies like chocolate,” he said, and exposed more teeth. Andrei would have to drink his women into bed, Helen thought.
Andrei stood up. “I take piss first. Then we open chocolate and be friends.”
Classy as ever, Helen thought.
