refurbishment.
When Regina mentioned that Greg planned to meet her downtown for dinner, Barbara glanced at her wrist watch. It was barely six o'clock. Several hours of daylight remained. Impulsively, she decided to stop by the houseboat on her way home, and de-toured around to the wrapping desk to request that her purchases be delivered.
'Have to rush-got a date. But I want to talk to you about something,' Fran whispered as Regina left the shop ahead of them. 'Call you tomorrow.'
Wondering what could be on Fran's mind, Barbara rode to the bus stop nearest the Prescott home and then walked the remaining distance to the inlet. She found Whit on his hands and knees, industriously running an electric sander over the deck. He seemed glad of an excuse to stop working.
'You've accomplished wonders this past week,' Barbara praised him, looking around. 'With a couple of days vacation coming up, I thought I'd drop in to ask if you could use a helper.'
Some of the weariness left his face and his eyes brightened. 'I'll sign you on the ship's complement as soon as my fingers straighten out,' he said gratefully. 'What's your rating-able seaman, oiler, wiper?'
'Hummm. None of those categories quite describe my talents,' Barbara said. 'What does the bosun do?'
'Gives orders,' said Whit, and laughed at her prompt, 'That's for me!'
Over a strawberry waffle and coffee, they discussed the next step in the houseboat's face-lifting.
'I have a few more yards of paint to finish chipping and then we can go ahead and prime,' he told her proudly.
'I'll help,' Barbara offered. She carried the dishes to the sink and paused thoughtfully, watching the soap bubble up around them.
'Whit,' she said, 'Regina is worried about Greg. Do you know if he is still brooding about those stolen blueprints?'
'He has something on his mind; I've noticed it, too.' Whit frowned. 'I didn't want to say anything, but since you've brought it up, there is something else that bothers me. He's taken to walking in his sleep!'
Barbara almost dropped the plate. 'Greg? Walking in his sleep?'
'Don't ask me to explain it.' Whit shrugged. 'I've been sleeping with one ear open ever since our burglary. I thought I heard noises several times before, but wrote it off when I couldn't find anyone prowling around. Then, last night I saw Greg.'
'What was he doing?' Barbara asked eagerly.
'At first, he was monkeying around with the bulkheads-tapping them and pushing on them. After a while, he started pacing round and round the deck. Ten minutes later he came back to his bunk and stretched out, and he didn't budge for the rest of the night.'
'Did he say anything?'
'Not a syllable. I trailed along behind him to make sure he didn't fall over the side, but I was too baffled to try to wake him. I don't think he believed me when I told him about it this morning. Said he'd never heard of such a crazy stunt.'
'Something must be preying on his mind.' Barbara frowned. 'I've heard that people react strangely at times when they are troubled with a problem they can't solve.'
Whit looked dubious. 'Greg is the most normal guy I've ever known,' he declared. 'What possible problem could he have? He's healthy, he's going to marry the second prettiest girl in Santa Teresa, and he's about to join his dad in making a mint of money selling real estate.'
'I didn't mean personal problems, exactly,' Barbara murmured. 'I meant-Whit, I can't get those blueprints out of my mind. I keep wondering who took them, and whether he has already succeeded in handing them over to the enemy. I'm sure Greg is worried about the same thing. More so, probably, because he was actually on the base when the plans were stolen.'
'So was I-so were two thousand other sailors.' Whit dragged a hand through his close-cropped red hair. 'Holy smoke, Barbara!' he burst out. 'Do you suppose Greg knows who took those blueprints?'
'Of course not,' she said firmly. 'If he did, he would have notified the FBI immediately. Remember, he said that as the Admiral's aide he stuck pretty close to that party of newsmen and photographers who were visiting the base? I think he has been going over and over their movements in his mind, trying to recall if one of them slipped away from the group for any length of time. He must feel partly responsible for the theft, even though no one could have foreseen that such a thing would happen. It's become sort of an obsession with him to expose the culprit.'
'And that's what pressured him into climbing out of the sack in the middle of the night to go prowling around the boat?' Whit shook his head. 'Sounds goofy to me.'
'Listen!' Barbara cried. 'Greg's theory hinged on the fact that he thought the blueprints were smuggled out of Port Dixon aboard the Albatross. Subconsciously, he might believe that they are still hidden somewhere on this boat!'
'He was poking at the bulkheads,' Whit reflected. 'Ah-they couldn't be, though. This houseboat has been searched so many times it's practically threadbare!'
'I didn't say they were still here. I said Greg might believe they were,' Barbara pointed out reasonably. 'You'd better see if you can't get him interested in something else.'
Whit promised to do what he could. 'Want to go to a movie tomorrow night?' he asked, squeezing her hand as she started down the gangplank.
'I'd love to. Though by the time we're through chipping all that paint we may be too bleary-eyed to watch it,' Barbara laughed. 'See you at nine in the morning.'
It was closer to ten o'clock, however, when Barbara arrived at the houseboat on Saturday morning. Immediately after breakfast, Fran Harris telephoned, and upon learning that Regina was nowhere about, she proceeded to outline a plan she had in mind.
'I want to give Regina a bridal shower,' she confided. 'Is next Saturday night all right with you?'
'Sure,' Barbara answered. The same idea had occurred to her, but she lacked a place to hold the shower and still preserve the necessary secrecy. 'What can I do to help?'
'Just make sure Regina gets here without suspecting anything. I want it to be a real surprise. Tip off her fiance so that he won't make any big plans for that evening.'
They chatted a few minutes longer before hanging up. Then, after explaining to Mrs. Prescott that she would be away for the rest of the day, Barbara headed for the inlet. Whit greeted her enthusiastically and, when the paint-chipping operation was completed in record time, complimented her on her workmanship.
'You're so good, I think I'll let you paint, too,' he told her.
'Thanks a million!' Barbara retorted, but she didn't really mind. Working side by side with Whit, chores she would ordinarily have classed as drudgery became almost pleasant.
They picnicked on chicken-filled pastries and frosty lemonade, and dabbled their toes in the cove's clear, shallow water before resuming work on the Albatross. During the afternoon, Whit finished sanding down the decks, while Barbara polished the portholes to a glistening sparkle.
'Wonder what happened here?' she murmured, catching her finger on a rough edge. The casement into which the porthole fitted was splintered. It looked as if it had been damaged at one time, and inexpertly repaired.
The grating hum of the sander drowned out her voice, however, and Whit failed to hear her comment. Shrugging, Barbara moved her cleaning equipment onto the next porthole and promptly forgot about the splintery one adjoining it.
Contrary to her prediction, they both enjoyed the movie at the drive-in which followed.
'Damn! I almost forgot!' Whit exclaimed with a suddenness which almost caused Barbara to spill her malt. 'I found a restaurant that's going out of business. Heard about it from a fellow in the drugstore.'
'Wonderful! Is it here in Santa Teresa?'
'No. It's down the coast about thirty miles. Little place called Amigos.'
'Amigos-friends,' Barbara translated. Many California towns bore the original names given them by the first Spanish settlers. 'When do you plan on seeing the owner?'
'The sooner the better. We could drive down together, if you'd like to come.' Whit had tapped his lean savings to purchase a small secondhand car. 'I'd take the Albatross, but I don't have a decent chart of these waters. Besides, the paper said there might be rain squalls.'
