stashed in that backpack.
The captain had a smuggler on board, but not the one she was hired to find. She’d tell Josiah, but she’d have to keep searching.
Wrong again, Helen thought, as she refilled the backpack and shoved it in the corner.
I’m useless on this trip. She dumped smelly shoes back into the closet and heaped the magazines after them. I’ll have to clean my way to the Bahamas and back again, if I don’t find the emeralds—and fast. We leave for Lauderdale tomorrow evening.
I may be a partner in Coronado Investigations, but I’m not Phil’s equal. Being a private eye had sounded so romantic. At worst, I expected to be bored on a long stakeout. Hah. I’ll be the only PI with dishpan hands and housemaid’s knee.
She checked her watch. Two o’clock. The crew wouldn’t be back for three hours. Time to face another failure, Helen thought. I have to call my sister, Kathy, and find out if the blackmailer took the cash. That was my fault twice: first for marrying Rob, then for trying to catch the blackmailer alone. The last time he made a demand, I staked out the money drop—and fell asleep. I’m a real Samantha Spade.
Helen braced herself and speed-dialed her sister. Kathy answered on the first ring, jumping into the conversation without a hello. “Rob took the money,” she said. “I left thirty thousand dollars in a grocery sack on the same Dumpster—the one in the abandoned strip mall. Then I went to Target and when I got back, the cash was gone.”
“Either the blackmailer got it,” Helen said, “or a homeless person hit the jackpot.”
“It had to be Rob,” Kathy said. “He hasn’t called since. But he’ll want more. What are we going to do when he doubles the money again? You can’t pay him sixty thousand next time.”
“I’m not going to,” Helen said. “I’ll bring Phil with me. We’ll do a stakeout and catch him.”
“But you can’t! You promised.” Kathy’s voice was shrill with panic.
“I promised I wouldn’t ruin my nephew’s future,” Helen said. “But if the blackmailer really is Rob—and you’re convinced he is—then it’s time to call in Phil and end this charade. I’m not lying to my husband anymore, Kathy. It will ruin my marriage. You can do what you like about your Tom, but I’m bringing in a professional detective. We can trust Phil to protect your boy. He’ll be angry at me, but he’ll help. I just hope I don’t lose the only man I’ve ever loved.”
A chasm seemed to open before Helen. Life without Phil would be unbearable.
Kathy’s frantic plea interrupted Helen’s vision of her lonely, loveless future. “What do I do the next time he calls?” she asked.
“The blackmailer only calls your landline,” Helen said. “I’ll send you a telephone jack and a pocket digital recorder. Hide them near the phone. When he calls, stick the suction cup on the receiver and record his call. When Phil catches the blackmailer, we’ll have a recording for the police. Rob will be trapped. Tommy will be saved.”
“I’m not good with mechanical things,” Kathy said.
“Then you’d better learn,” Helen said. “I’ll send you the recording equipment. Set it up and call the time and temperature recording every day. Do it until you can slap on the jack’s suction cup automatically.”
“I’ll try,” Kathy said.
“No,” Helen said. “You will practice until you don’t have to think about it. It’s the only way to save your son. Promise?”
“I promise,” Kathy said. “Are you sure this will work?”
“You know I’d do anything for Tommy,” Helen said. “I love you, baby sis.”
After Helen hung up, she realized she hadn’t answered Kathy’s question.
She still had time to call Phil before the crew returned. She hoped he could answer his cell phone at work. She didn’t exhale until he said, “Helen! I can talk for a minute. I’m outside checking the pool.”
“I have news,” Helen said. “The captain confirmed the shady lady dated a yacht guest.” She repeated their conversation, minus any names.
“Good work,” he said. “Have you found the smuggler?”
“No,” Helen said. “The boat doesn’t get back until the day after tomorrow. We’ll finish our chores about noon.”
“Plenty of time to catch a crook,” Phil said. “You’ll find him. I’m always right.”
“I won’t waste time discussing that. What’s happening with our other case?”
“Lots,” he said. “I can’t say more on a cell phone. I found out what killed our man. But I can’t connect it to the lady yet.”
“Has she been meeting with Surfer Dude?” Helen asked.
“Yes and no,” he said. “They met once and I followed them. The second time Surfer Dude had a fatal accident.”
“He’s dead? She killed him?” Helen asked.
“The police aren’t sure, but I am. He died in West Hills. Our friend Detective McNamara Dorsey is on the case.”
“She’s good,” Helen said. “She’ll figure it out.”
“If she doesn’t, I’ll give her a little help.”
“Did the lady kill him the same way?” Helen asked.
“No. I’ll keep looking for the method.”
“Be careful, Phil. I love you and I don’t want to lose you.”
Helen heard a thunk and laughter. The crew was back. She sleepwalked through her work for the rest of the day. The owners and guests returned at two a.m. and went straight to bed. The staff was free.
Helen showered and dried off in her narrow bath. She banged her elbow on the wall and noticed she was nearly out of toilet paper. Helen found a spare roll and took the cardboard core off the holder. The spindle sprung apart. Inside was a tightly wound wad of bills.
Hundred-dollar bills.
Helen counted them. One. Two. Three … on up to ten. One thousand dollars.
She stared at the money while the thought formed in her buzzing brain. Louise didn’t buy a trip home on the charter boat. The thousand-dollar stash was still in her cabin.
CHAPTER 30
Mira had lied. Louise hadn’t left the yacht on a Miami-based fishing charter.
Helen staggered out of her steaming bathroom with the thousand dollars still clutched in her hand. She sat on her bunk, stunned.
Why did Mira lie? What did it mean?
Was Louise washed overboard? What was she doing out on deck? And why didn’t Mira report her missing?
A wave of sickness flooded through Helen. Louise was dead. There was no way she could have survived that violent sea. And Mira had kept silent. Louise’s death must have been Mira’s fault somehow. Either Louise fell overboard—or she was pushed.
The head stew didn’t want to admit her responsibility.
It was two forty-eight in the morning. Helen didn’t want to wake the captain at this hour. He couldn’t save Louise now. This news could wait another three hours.
Louise is dead. She’s dead. Dead.
Helen couldn’t stop thinking about it. She’d seen the wild water from the safety of the yacht. She’d felt it slam the ship. Poor little Louise, lost in the ferocious waves. She could see her hopeless struggle as the ship sailed away.
