After finishing the bathroom, she didn’t venture into the walk-in closet and hoped that when the Worths came back from their boating trip they had picked up “a girl” to cater to Regina’s every whim.
Liz sprayed sea breeze air freshener and left the suite. Then she thought of something. The cat! Where was Regina’s cat? She stepped back inside the suite and searched under the bed, sofa, and dressers. No feline. Liz thought she heard a scratching from the walk-in closet.
“Here, kitty, kitty. Here, Venus.”
She opened the closet door, and sure enough two pale blue eyes looked out from a crate, a larger bejeweled version of the one Liz had seen at dinner last night. She stepped closer. “What are you doing locked in the closet, Kitty?” She knelt next to the carrier and opened it. “Come on, pretty baby, let me get a good look at you. I know Pierre gave you parboiled tuna as instructed.”
At the word “tuna,” the cat torpedoed out of the carrier and latched itself onto Liz’s chest. The cat’s front claws stuck to her sundress like Velcro. Venus resembled the cat on the infamous poster with the tagline Hang in There, Baby. The only difference between Venus and the cat in the poster was that Venus was bald from head to tail. When Liz had lived in SoHo, she’d passed an exotic Manhattan pet shop that had a sphynx kitten in the window with a price tag of two thousand dollars. Venus was off-white and wore a pink collar around her tiny hairless neck that Liz guessed, by the amazing sparkle of the stones, was likely studded with real diamonds. When Venus finally relaxed her claws, Liz picked her up, her hand grazing the cat’s collar. Something pricked her finger, drawing blood. As she placed Venus back inside the crate, she noticed sharp prongs where a stone used to be. Venus snuggled onto the leopard-print velour cushion and closed her eyes. Liz latched the crate and left the closet.
After wrapping a tissue around her bleeding finger, she left the Worths’ suite and went down the hall to the linen pantry. Armed with fresh sheets and towels, she entered Captain Netherton’s suite. His was neat and tidy, perhaps having something to do with the captain’s military background. He got free room and board in exchange for skippering Queen of the Seas. Aunt Amelia didn’t give him a salary, but he did get to keep all of his tips, and he also collected a pension from the United States Coast Guard.
In the sitting room, there was a mahogany bookcase filled with antique maritime books, and on a desk, a map showing the different water depths and currents off of Melbourne Beach, including the famous Sebastian Inlet. The ocean side of the inlet was a surfer’s paradise; on the western side, a snorkeler’s paradise. Countless times growing up, Liz swam in the inlet’s calm bay alongside friendly manatees.
She left the clean linens on the captain’s bed, then exited the suite. After returning the Kirby to the maid’s closet, she went down to the first floor, put away the cleaning supplies, and dropped the used sheets and towels in the laundry room. Her stomach growled. It was time for a snack.
When she entered the butler’s pantry, she caught Barnacle Bob napping. He was a beautiful bird when sleeping, even with his bald head. The parrot must have sensed Liz’s kind thoughts and decided to set her straight. He awoke and stood at attention. “Push Regina overboard. Push Regina overboard,” the parrot shouted, mimicking Liz’s earlier conversation with Betty. Then he added, “Liz is a bad girl. Liz is a bad girl.”
She marched up to Barnacle Bob’s cage and pointed her finger at him. “Keep quiet or else.”
BB repeated, “Liz is a bad girl. Liz is a bad girl.” Then he bit the tip of her finger, and she bled for the second time in an hour. She opened the pantry cupboards and found a rubber finger cot, something every good chef kept handy in case of accidents, and put it on her finger.
“Lizzy darling, where are you?” Aunt Amelia bellowed.
She grabbed an orange scone from the cookie jar, left the pantry, and closed the door, only to hear a muffled, “Who’s got their hand in the cookie jar? Liz is a bad girl. Push Regina overboard.”
Liz entered the kitchen to find a pale and disheveled Aunt Amelia. There were black trails on her cheeks left by her mascara and black eyeliner.
“We must get rid of that woman!” Aunt Amelia said as she plopped down on a chair at the farm table. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Regina complained the whole time on the boat, and she actually spit out her Brie, prosciutto, and apricot chutney sandwich because Pierre didn’t cut the rind off the Brie! What a prima donna. Then the water started getting rough and dark clouds rolled in. Clyde wanted to turn back, but “The Boss” wouldn’t let him until we pulled up to the Harrington property. She took photos and made a million calls to her contractor, asking him why Castlemara hadn’t been bulldozed yet, and then she went bonkers when she found out there was a holdup on getting permits from the town.”
“That’s good news for the historical society,” Liz said.
“Not if it means the Worths will be staying here until it gets sorted out.”
“True.”
“Her poor husband, David, was at her beck and call the whole time, and he also made numerous phone calls. That guy’s a saint, and
