“That’s what we plan to do,” the taller officer said. His English was a bit better.
I shrugged. “Fine,” I said, looking at my watch. “But can you hurry? I have a massage at five.”
As Captain, the security guys, and the Turkish cops accompanied me to my cabin, we passed Pops, Lucille, and Carleen, who were enjoying Bloody Marys by the pool. Bunny was reading a novel under a large umbrella, and Aston, wearing only a red Speedo, was dancing the Macarena with a band of other lively (and amazingly limber) octogenarians.
Pops stood. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” I said, shooing him away. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
I felt a rush of fear as we arrived at the cabin. John was just leaving. My stomach lurched at the thought that the costumes might somehow be waiting for me inside. But when we entered the room, the only clothes in my closet were those I’d borrowed from Lucille. The policemen searched everywhere and found nothing incriminating.
“We would like to have you into Kusadasi for questions,” the mole cop said, furrowing his eyebrows. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his face.
Captain Paul spoke up. “Absolutely not. She is an American passenger on my ship. I will not leave her in a foreign country when I am responsible for her safety.”
“Then we will come back with the papers of authority,” the mole cop threatened.
“You do that.” Captain asked the ship’s security guards to escort the policemen out, which they did.
I wondered, if a guy saves you from going to a vermin-infested prison where daily rapes, beatings, and upside-down hangings are a virtual certainty, are you obligated to sleep with him? It had been so long since I dated, I didn’t know the rules anymore.
“You’re safe now,” Captain said kindly.
“Thanks,” I said. “But what if they come back with papers? You won’t abandon me, will you?”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “By the time they return, we’ll be long gone. But you’d better not get off the ship in Istanbul. If they arrest you there, I can’t help. Turkish prisons are a nightmare. Did you ever see Midnight Express?”
“Yes, years ago. Thanks, Paul,” I said, giving him a hug. “You’re my hero.”
He blushed. “Just doing my job. So, I’ll look for you tonight in the bar?”
“You betcha,” I said, winking.
As soon as Paul left, John came back in. “Is the coastline clear?”
I sat on the edge of the bed and then collapsed like my legs were made of quivering Jell-O. “That was so close.”
“Yes, but you are safe now,” John said. “I spoke to Jorge on the Golden Goddess.”
My heart pounded like a tom-tom drum at the news. “What did he say?”
“He has the trunk and the bag,” John said. “His passenger’s luggage key wouldn’t open the lock. So they looked at the tags and realized the mistake.”
An enormous weight whooshed off my shoulders. “Thank God.”
“Jorge said he would check them at the ship terminal in Istanbul, but we’ll have to hide the trunk when we bring it on board. An investigator has joined the cruise.”
“What?” I sat back up.
“His name is Frank Flannagan and he’s with Interpol. I saw a man boarding with his luggage this morning, which was unusual. When he left the ship to visit Kusadasi, I asked the maid who services his room about him. He told her he was an orthodontist, but she thinks that’s a cover story and he is with the authorities.”
“Why?” I asked. “Does Captain know?”
“Captain thinks he’s a passenger who joined us late,” John said. “It happens sometimes. But I am certain the maid is right, because he was seated at your table at his request. I checked with Bradley. How else would you explain that?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“I’d be careful if I were you,” John said. “Tomorrow I’m going to pick up the trunk in Istanbul and hide it on the ship. When we dock in Civitavecchia, I’ll deliver it to the museum in case you’re being followed.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Roma, that’s the port for Roma.”
I shook my head. “No, I can’t let you get involved. You could be arrested.” But of course, I could and I would if he absolutely insisted.
“I want to help,” John said. “Roma’s my home. I know my way around. By the time the museum realizes what is in the trunk I’ve left, I’ll be gone. This will end your troubles.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said. “It sounds like a smart plan.”
John made his little butler bow. “I am at your service,” he said in a humble tone. Then he backed out of the room with the deference of a royal subject.
How could I ever pay him back? I wondered. And why was he being so nice? From my experience, at least at the museum, people didn’t offer to help without some kind of personal agenda. I shook my head. I was one jaded New Yorker.
The Man Who Got Away
THE RING OF THE telephone startled me. Great, I thought, probably more good news from Nigel, my worthless-in-the-face-of-danger colleague. But no, it was Carleen. She was in tears.
“What is it? Is it Famous?” Please don’t tell me she went overboard.
“N-no, it’s not her,” she said. “It’s Aston. He h-had a heart attack.”
“Oh, my God, is he okay?” I asked. This was awful. Aston was the only likable member of Sydney’s family, probably because he wasn’t related by blood.
“N-no, he died,” she said. “He had a massive heart attack by the pool. I’m with Lucille. She’s a wreck. Denis’ wedding to Sydney means the world to her, and now, with Aston’s death, well, they can’t possibly hold the ceremony.”
Whoo-hoo, I thought. But then I felt terrible. Aston was dead. And he was a sweetheart. “Where are you guys?”
“Medical, Room 217.”
“I’m
