Customs! Helen had forgotten about that. She hurried past Carl to the crew mess, where Mira was loading both washers.
“Once we finish this laundry and clean the heads, we’re done,” she said. “You and Andrei have to ride with the captain to immigration. Andrei has a green card and you don’t have a boat card.”
“What’s a boat card?” Helen asked.
“You get it from the feds if you travel by private boat a lot. They’re called NEXUS cards. All the crew have them. We don’t need to go through customs. The captain just calls in our card numbers when we get into port.
“We always party at the end of a cruise, but I’m skipping this one. Kevin is taking me straight to the airport. Get ready to rock, Helen. You need to party after that crossing. You like wine or margaritas?”
“Both,” Helen said, “but I’m skipping out, too. I’m meeting Phil. I have to tell him to pick me up at Port Everglades.”
The head stew checked her watch. “The Homeland Security office is at the other end of the port by Griffin Road. There’s no gate security there. He can wait for you in the parking lot. We should be free about twelve thirty. I’ll miss you, but I won’t miss Andrei. I can’t believe he tried to hurt poor little Mitzi.”
“It wasn’t the first time,” Helen said. “I heard her yelp when he was alone with her in the crew mess one night. He may have kicked her.”
“Well, he’s gone now,” Mira said. “Finish the main salon head, will you?”
Helen cleaned the head and folded the toilet paper into a neat point.
“Done,” she told herself. Next she folded towels, still warm from the dryer, while Mira ironed the sheets.
Then she hurried to her cabin to call Phil. Just hearing his voice made her feel warm. No, not warm. Hot. Honeymoon hot. She wanted to be alone with her man.
“Helen!” he said. “I miss you. I need you. Our local case is breaking.”
“Did you catch her?” Helen asked, careful not to use Blossom’s name. “Do you know what she used?”
“Can’t say on a cell phone,” he said. “When do I pick you up?”
“I should be finished about twelve thirty,” she said, “but don’t come to the marina. I have to go through customs at Port Everglades.” She told him where.
“I’ll be waiting in my Jeep,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Helen said. “I have good news about our other case.”
“You found the … uh, person?” Phil asked.
“Can’t wait to tell you about it,” she said, and hit the END button. Two could play the “I can’t say anything on a cell phone” game.
Helen stashed her cleaning caddy for the last time, tidied her cabin and packed her small bag. When she opened her cabin door, the yacht was perfumed with a delicious aroma. It didn’t take much detective skill to track it to the galley, where the tall, thin chef was washing down the countertops.
“What smells so good?” Helen asked.
“I’m making pizza for the crew,” Suzanne said. “What’s your favorite topping?”
“I have to miss this party,” Helen said. “I’m meeting Phil right after I go through customs. I enjoyed working with you.”
“My pleasure,” Suzanne said. “I’m guessing this is your first and last cruise as a stewardess.”
Helen said nothing. Suzanne opened the oven door and took out two pizzas, oozing cheese. Red rounds of pepperoni and brown sausage were embedded in the top like greasy jewels.
“I thought so,” she said. “Will you do one last chore and carry these to the crew mess?”
Matt, Sam and Dick, the second engineer, attacked the pizzas as soon as Helen set them on the table. She heard the
Helen ran down the passage and asked Carl, “Would you like some pizza?”
“No, thanks,” he said. “I’m staying on board after the captain dismisses the crew and takes you and Andrei to Port Everglades. I can eat then.”
Andrei was slumped on his bunk, sulking. His black polo shirt seemed to accent the dark pits in his skin. Helen didn’t offer him pizza. The poodle abuser could starve.
No one mentioned Andrei during the party, but Helen thought the crew was relieved he stayed in his cabin. She wondered if Dick, the quiet second engineer, would be promoted to Andrei’s job.
While the boys ate, drank beer and cracked jokes, Mira rolled a pink suitcase out to the crew mess. The fat duffel sat on top of it. She was dressed for a colder climate in jeans, a long-sleeved white shirt and a pink hoodie. “New York, here I come,” she said.
“It’s chilly there in April,” Helen said. “Do you have the right clothes for your trip?”
“Nope, but I can buy them in Manhattan,” Mira said. “I can’t wait to leave.”
Helen couldn’t, either. By the time she and Mira had said their good-byes to the crew, the captain had returned.
A sullen Andrei dragged his dark backpack with the square bulge down the gangplank. Helen thought the fired engineer would have a harder time attracting gullible young women without his dashing dress uniform.
The three women rolled their suitcases down the gangplank. Mira ran to a dramatically handsome man of about thirty. His black clothes, thick dark hair and carefully calculated beard stubble screamed “actor.”
“Kevin!” Mira cried, her pink suitcase bumping over the marina’s blacktop, the duffel nearly falling off.
Suzanne drove off alone in a dented red Honda.
Helen and Andrei climbed into the captain’s black Chevy for a short, silent ride to Port Everglades. Helen cleared customs quickly, then shook the captain’s hand, but not Andrei’s. She wanted nothing to do with him.
Outside she spotted Phil’s black Jeep in the lot and ran to him. He was wearing her favorite soft blue shirt, the one that matched his eyes. His long silver hair was tied back in a ponytail.
Helen wrapped her arms around him. “Um, muscles!” she said, rubbing his back. She inhaled his scent of coffee and sandalwood and kissed him hard.
“I missed you,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
After more kisses she said, “We still have work to do on this case. You need to tip off the feds.”
Helen told him about Mira and the emeralds, then asked, “Who are you going to call? ICE?”
“The agency isn’t called Immigration and Customs Enforcement anymore,” Phil said. “They’ve changed their name to Homeland Security Investigations. I’ll call an HSI agent in Fort Lauderdale. He’ll know if the airport has an HSI special agent on duty. If not, TSA will do the takedown. We need to give him as many details as possible, including where Mira was coming from, how the emeralds were smuggled and a description of her luggage. They’ll love a chance to seize smuggled emeralds.”
“I can even give them the color of her suitcase,” Helen said. “I’m no jewelry expert, but I’d say the cut stones have a retail value of several million. We’d better hurry. Mira and her boyfriend are boarding a three o’clock flight for New York.”
The HSI agent was definitely interested in Phil’s information. Helen heard him reciting the details:
“That’s right. Her name is Mira—short for Vladimira—Fedorova, age twenty-nine, about five foot six, long blond hair, wearing jeans, a white shirt and a pink hoodie. Name sounds Russian, but she’s a U.S. citizen living in Fort Lauderdale. She has a pink rolling suitcase and may also have a large navy duffel. That one’s too big for carry- on. She’s traveling with a dark-haired thirty-something male, first name Kevin. They’re taking the three o’clock flight to LaGuardia. I don’t know if he’s involved. She’s a stewardess on a yacht. That’s how she’s been bringing in the jewels. The captain got suspicious and our agency had an operative aboard. She found the emeralds on a belt in a bag of old evening dresses.”
That’s me, Helen thought. I’m an operative. A successful operative.
Phil repeated the information several times, then hung up. “They’re going after her,” he said. “I hope your hunch is right.”
“It is,” Helen said, with more confidence than she felt. “We should call our favorite TV reporter, Valerie Cannata. We can promise her the story, if she agrees not to use the captain’s name or the ship’s name. Think she’ll go along with it?”
“Hell, yes,” Phil said. “But she can’t do the story unless she can get a camera crew to the airport on short notice. Let’s hope for a slow news day. Coronado Investigations will have to stay out of this story. But we’ll get
