“Oh, shoot,” Denis said.
“What?”
“I forgot my BlackBerry. Do you mind if we go back to the ship?”
“We’ll only be a few hours,” I said. “It might do you good to take a break from work.”
He considered my suggestion, radical as it seemed. “I have the kind of job where people have to be able to reach me,” he said. “It’s like being a doctor. I’m on call day and night.”
“Do you like that?”
“Well, life isn’t always what one likes, is it?”
“No, it often isn’t.”
“But I suppose I could take a few hours off,” Denis decided, “and enjoy a little freedom.”
“Good for you,” I said, leading the way to the tram ticket window.
“Have you seen this man?” I asked the agent, a leather-skinned fellow with hairy patches on his elbows and neck. I showed the photo, covering my face with my thumb so Denis wouldn’t see it. When I took the picture, my hair was a mess, I wore my glasses, had raccoon under-eyes, and sported lovely headgear. It was not the image I wanted to publicize.
“Let me see the picture,” Denis said playfully.
“No,” I said. “I look terrible.”
He snatched the camera from my grasp. “It can’t be that bad. Ooh, that is one ugly picture,” he laughed. Then he examined it more closely. His eyes went from the camera to my body, to my face, then back down to my cherry tree Choos. A flash of recognition crossed his eyes. His body stiffened.
Oh, no, I thought. He remembers. Do I fess up or clam up?
“I don’t have all day,” the ticket agent said.
Denis appeared puzzled, but handed the camera back to the agent.
“Yes, yes, he was here this morning,” the man said eagerly. “I remember because he was carrying a megalos trunk.” He held his arms far apart to show how big it was. “It took up a lot of room in the car and I made him buy a ticket for it.”
“A ticket for a trunk?” I said. “That’s bold.”
“If it would take a donkey to carry something up the cliff, you have to buy a seat for it. That’s the rule. Why do you complain? You should be happy because now I remember him.”
“Oh, yes, I am happy, thank you,” I said. “Can you tell us anything else? Was he traveling alone? What was he wearing?”
“I can do better than that,” the agent said. He left his partner in the booth and invited us to follow him to a cramped office. Turning on an old Dell computer, he clicked on a file of photographs. “Our security camera takes a picture of everyone as they enter the building. Let’s see, he was here at least two hours ago, maybe more.” He started to scroll through the photos until he came to a guy with an oversize brown case. “Is this your man?”
“Great Scott, it is,” Denis said.
“Look, he’s alone,” I added, clapping enthusiastically.
“Can we get a copy?” Denis said.
“I’m afraid that would be impossible without the proper papers.”
Denis reached into his wallet and pulled out a wad of bills. “Will these do?”
Silently, the man clicked the print button and handed us the photo. “This never happened,” he said like we were in a James Bond movie. “Follow me.”
After escorting us into a tramcar, he slammed the door and said, “Good luck and Godspeed.”
The tram rose so rapidly it felt like I’d left my stomach back at the station. We were being carried up the mountain at what seemed to be a ninety-degree angle, but that’s probably an exaggeration. They say it takes only two minutes to get to the top, and I could believe it. We were moving like a fierce trade wind.
“Let’s keep this for evidence,” Denis said, filing the photo in his backpack.
I was busy snapping pictures of the bay, the volcano, the terraced hills, and the ship, which looked like a white cigar from this height. Finally, I set the camera down and took in the breathtaking view myself.
That’s when I saw her.
It was quick, but there was no mistaking the face. Sitting opposite me on the tramcar speeding down the mountain, Tanya Johnson, the devil herself, whizzed past my line of sight. Sammie was with her. Tanya was boldly staring out the window. When she saw me, her eyes bugged out and she leaped up, whomping her head on the top of the car. There were suitcases on the seat. She yelled to me, but by then the car was too far below us to see or hear anything.
“Who was that?” Denis asked.
“It was Tanya and Sammie,” I gulped.
“You mean Witchy and Dopey are here? Now?” he said.
“I am so dead.”
Prelude to a Kiss
MY FIRST INSTINCT WHEN we stepped off the tram was to run, just in case Tanya and Sammie decided to ride the tram back up. But then I realized they would never chase me. Tanya was too lazy. She’d board the ship and wait while sipping expensive champagne and tapping her designer-clad foot.
“Come,” Denis said, taking my hand. “There’s no time to sightsee.”
Right, I thought. We need evidence.
We hiked past the small boutiques and elegant cafés until we found a brick road. Denis approached a convertible taxi that was waiting at the corner and then beckoned me to get inside. “There’s an airport on the other side of the island.”
The cab took off toward the back side of town, zipping down winding paved roads that led toward the sea. I
