Anchors Aweigh - 6 (19 page)

Odell helped us aboard the bamboo raft and we took a seat. He stuck a really long pole in the green river and shoved us away from shore. “I have many stories to share. Feel free to ask any questions.”

“Does that pole move any faster?” I asked, and Captain Odell gave me an irritated look.

“Your lady?
Macas,”
Odell told Manny, and I frowned.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Prickly,” Manny said.

I raised an eyebrow at Odell. He did the same to me.

“What’s Barbie’s hurry anyway?” Manny asked.

“I told you. I want to catch up with the others,” I said. “How deep is this river?” I asked Odell. “Is it over your head?”

“The Great River is ten to twelve feet deep, perhaps more in places,” he said.

“How come you don’t provide life vests?” I asked.

“We do have them upon request, but we have never had need of them before,” Odell told me. “Each raft is captained by someone with much experience,” he assured me. “And the river, it is quite narrow.”

“Barbie’s concerns addressed?” Manny asked. He put an arm around my shoulders. “Manny won’t let anything happen to his girl,” he said, and he squeezed my arm. Odell smiled and winked.

Great. Romantic raft ride. Amorous faux beau who showed every indication of wanting a little
Loveboat
action for real. A voyeur captain. What more could a girl want? For the blooming raft to turn up the knots, that’s what.

“Tressa never did answer the question,” I heard Manny say, and I played dumb.

“What was the question again?” I said.

“Is Tressa in love with Rick the Dick?”

I saw Odell lean in our direction, sensing a juicy bit of gossip to share with his fellow raft captains later.

“She might be,” I said, “but she’s not telling.”

“Would Tressa know if she was in love?” Manny asked, and I thought that was a really brilliant question. Damn it.

Would I know?

How would I know?

“Love is such a subjective, individual, indefinable emotion,” I said, about to launch into a really thought-provoking overview relating to what the real meaning of the word is and how it has many different facets and a kaleidoscope of textures and so many depths to plumb and levels to explore when a sudden scream from downstream got our attention.

“Help! Help! Someone!” A female voice carried back to us along the water.

Sherri!

“I think I know that voice!” I said, jumping to my feet and sending our raft bouncing. “Hurry! Work that pole, man! Work that pole!”

Odell looked at me and started yelling himself, digging the pole into the water, propelling us downriver—much too slowly for me.

“Put your arms into it!” I yelled. “Dig! Dig!”

“Sit down, please. You fall off,” Odell said.

I looked at Manny—at the size of his massive arms—and grabbed hold of him and hauled him to his feet. “Take the wheel, sailor!” I said. “Or pole! Hurry!”

Manny shook his head, grabbed the pole from a protesting Odell, shook him off with a shrug of his shoulder and began navigating the bamboo raft down the river with the skill of a bamboo raft pro. In no time we had passed the other rafts and hit the bend in the river.

“There!” I screamed. “There they are! Hurry! Hurry!”

From where we were, we could see two rafts stopped in the center of the river. Two people were in the water. Two people were on the raft. Where were the captains?

“Go! Go!” I screamed.

Manny put his arms into it—and what arms! I marveled that the pole didn’t break. As we drew nearer, I recognized Courtney kneeling at the side of one raft, reaching a hand out to the water, trying to grab hold of someone.

“Courtney!” I yelled. “We’re coming!”

She looked up, saw us, and a hand flew to her chest.

“Hurry!” she said. “It’s Ben! He’s not a strong swimmer. And I can’t get him on the raft.”

Manny maneuvered our raft alongside Courtney’s. He jumped from our raft to Courtney’s, pushed her toward the center of the raft, reached down and with one big arm, plucked Ben out of the river. Ben coughed and sputtered.

“Oh, thank God!” Courtney gasped. “Thank God.”

I frowned. “Uh, where’s Steve?” I asked.

“Steve?” Courtney said.

“Your husband,” I elaborated.

She looked around and jumped to her feet. “Oh my God, Steve! Steve!” she screamed. “He jumped in to help Ben! Steve! Steve!”

“There! He’s there!” Sherri said, and pointed to a head bobbing in and out of the water, the swimmer obviously struggling to keep afloat. “There he is! Help him!”

Living near a large recreational Iowa lake has its advantages—for all of three months out of the year. Plus, swimming was one sport I’d found where I could compete without complications, mainly because it was an individual sport.

I kicked my shoes off and dove in the river. I struck out in a long, smooth breaststroke, telling myself that there were no water snakes in the depths. None at all. (I have a serious fear of serpents. I blame Eve. Why not? She already takes the heat for PMS, monthly cramping, and the pain of childbirth.)

I reached Steve just as he appeared to be going under for the last time. Treading water, I tried to yank him up by his armpits, but his considerable weight pulled me down, too.

“Over here!” I managed to yell before my head was submerged. “Bring the raft!” I yelled when I bobbed back up again.

A second later Steve’s weight was no longer burying me at sea—or rather river. Manny had a hold of the heavy man and me and was managing to keep both of us afloat with relative ease.

It took a minute or so for Captain Odell to move the raft alongside us. Manny grabbed hold of my waistband and hauled me up onto the side of the raft, giving me an extreme wedgie in the process. With Odell’s help, I climbed on. It took both of us tugging on an arm apiece and Manny giving Steve a boost on the behind to get the exhausted Steve safely on to the raft. We lay panting and spent on the floor of the raft.

“I love you, man,” I said to Manny, thinking I’d never have been able to help Steve on my own. “I love you.”

“Whatever love is,” Manny said.

Hoisted by my own petard.

Avast! That smarts!

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A bedraggled group of tourists, Steve, Courtney, Sherri, Ben, Manny and Tressa returned to
The Epiphany.
When I asked how Ben had fallen into the river in the first place and why they hadn’t had captains manning their rafts, Courtney explained the men had paid the captains a nice tip so they could engage in some ridiculous competition as to who could captain their raft more competently.

“They were miffed with our choice of outings,” she’d explained, “so Sherri and I gave in and let them have their way.”

“So how did Ben fall in again?”

Sherri had answered that query. “He was sticking his pole in the water, it got stuck in mud or something and when he tried to pull it free, he lost his balance and went in,” she explained. “Ben isn’t that great of a swimmer, so Steve dove in to help haul him out.”

Which begged the question:

“If Steve can swim, why did we have to save him?” I’d asked.

“I can swim,” Steve said. “I’d have made it to the raft without your help,” he maintained. “It was just harder pulling Ben up out of the water and keeping him afloat than I expected. I already was kind of dizzy when we left this morning.”

I didn’t know what to think of the incident.

“Bet this is one date Barbie won’t soon forget,” Manny commented to me as we parted ways back on board the
Epiphany.

Date?

Once back in my cabin I hit the loo, the shower and the box of chocolates—not necessarily in that order. I spent considerable time in the shower, washing the Great River gunk out of my hair and body creases. My clothes were ruined. And thanks to Ranger Rick, I had zero chance to win money toward replacements.

I had just pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt when there was a knock on the cabin door. I padded over to and looked out the peephole, surprised to see Coral LaFavre outside my door. I opened it.

“Hello, Coral,” I said, noting she was…rumpled. Now, I do rumpled well. And often. But I’d never seen Coral looking anything but spit-shined. Well, except for the mug shot, that is. “What brings you to my humble bat cave?”

“May I come in?” she asked, and I opened the door and motioned her in. “I heard about the river-rafting incident. How fortunate you and Manny were there,” she said.

I closed the door and took a seat on my bed. Coral choose the nearby mini sofa.

“It was definitely not in the tourist brochure,” I acknowledged. “I’m just glad it had a happy ending. It would have been tragic if this cruise of a lifetime had turned out to be a death voyage,” I said pointedly. “Speaking of which, how are
you
enjoying the cruise?”

She looked uncomfortable.

“It’s a change,” she said. “I suppose I don’t have to ask you how you like it so far. Falling down the stairs, hitting your head, losing your memory, and now, jumping into a river to help save a fellow passenger.”

I smiled. “I’ve had a busy cruise, haven’t I?” I picked up the box of chocolates, selected one and handed the box to Coral. “Chocolate is my comfort food,” I explained.

Coral took a chocolate and set the box down. “My comfort food is French fries with ketchup. As you can probably tell from my thighs, I’ve needed a lot of comfort lately.”

I popped the chocolate in my mouth and put my hand out for the box. She obliged.

“You don’t get comfort from your new husband?” I asked, seeing no way the sweaty-palmed fast talker could deliver the kind of attention a woman really needed. But maybe he had hidden talents. If so, they were very well hidden.

Coral took the candy box back and this time placed it on her lap. “I didn’t marry David for his comfort quotient,” she said.

“Why did you marry him?” I blurted.

Coral popped another chocolate in her mouth. “David was there for me during a particularly hard time,” she said.

“Your drunk-driving arrest?” I asked, and she paused in the act of selecting another piece of candy.

“So you do know about that.”

I nodded. “You’re a star, after all.”

She laughed. Not a real laugh. One of those fake ones.

“Star. Right. Well, this ‘star’ did something incredibly foolish and incredibly wrong. Back then, I was going through hell. My father had just died. My career was on the skids. I’d gained all this weight. I started to drink to dull the pain.”

“And David was there for you? Through all that?”

“He was there,” she said.

“And you were…grateful,” I suggested. “You depended on him.”

She nodded. “It was a dark time,” she said.

“How did you sober up?” I asked. “David again?”

She shook her head. “I did something…unforgivable. It sobered me up for good,” she said. I saw the pain on her lovely face.

“What did you do, Coral?” I asked, curious as to what she could have done that was serious enough to sober her up overnight.

“Something horrible,” she said.

“You can tell me, Coral,” I said. “I won’t judge. I promise. I just want to help because I really believe you could be in serious danger here,” I said.

She stared at me, her expression showing surprise.

“Danger?” she said, and looked like she was about to go on when there was a knock at the door.

“Who could that be?” I asked jumping up and hurrying to the door. I peeked out. It was David Frazier Compton.

“It’s your husband,” I whispered, though why I felt it necessary to whisper I couldn’t say. “How did he know you were here?” I asked, suspecting he’d followed his wife to my door.

“He knows because I told him I was going to come down and check on you and see if you were okay,” she said, getting to her feet, shutting down any confidences she’d been about to share, and any opportunity I had to warn her to watch her back. I opened the door.

“Hullo, David,” I greeted Coral’s husband.

“Tressa! You don’t look any worse for the wear,” he said, stepping by me and into the tiny cabin. “Quaint,” he said, and I made a face behind his back. Too late, I realized Coral saw me. “Coral, you need to be getting ready for dinner,” he said. He spotted the box of chocolates. “Godiva,” he commented, picking up the candy. “Well, then, I don’t imagine you’ll be all that hungry, will you, Coral?” he said, taking a long time to select a piece before shoving it in his mouth. I hoped it was a coconut cream. It would serve him right.

I snatched the box from him. “Actually, these are mine,” I said. “Coral here’s been good as gold. In fact, you’ll be happy to know she didn’t touch one of those M&M candies you gave her the other day. I saw to that.”

He gave me a brittle smile. “How fortunate for Coral that she has found such a faithful friend. I would have thought your time was better spent with your family trying to jump-start your memory.”

“Oh, I assure you, I’m working on learning new things about the people around me everyday,” I said.

He blinked.

“Good to know,” he said. “Coral? Shall we?” He put out a hand. I noticed she didn’t take it, but walked past him to the door.

“I’m glad to see you’re okay, Tressa,” Coral said. “But you probably need your rest. Take care.”

“You too, Coral,” I said. “You take care, too.”

She looked back at me and nodded. “Count on it,” she said. “Coming, David?” Then she left the bat cave. David gave me a dark look and followed. I felt the love.

My gut was starting to hurt from the chocolates I’d consumed, so I decided to go in search of something more nutritious. Which wouldn’t be hard at all on the “Eat, Drink, and Definitely Not Be Satisfied”
Epiphany.

I took little time with my makeup. I considered another raid on the galley and decided I didn’t have the strength it required, so I decided to load up a king-sized doggie bag with grilled chicken and veggies, assorted melons, grapes and strawberries, grab a couple bottles of water and spend the rest of the afternoon as a couch potato, watching movies and vegging out.

I was walking by the main desk when I saw Sam Davenport approach from the direction of his office. When I saw who Security Sam was with, I almost walked into the wall: the other man in my life, Manny DeMarco.

I slipped back around the corner, grabbed a
USA Today
from a nearby table and stuck it in front of my face and waited for the two men to finish talking. Five minutes later Manny walked right past me. I counted to ten and followed him. I frowned as he headed for the gangplank. Where on earth was he going? I kept pace with him—hard to do since his stride was twice the length of mine. Sure enough, he was leaving the ship again. I continued to stalk him—I mean
shadow
him—a safe distance back. He left the cruise terminal and hailed a taxi. I noticed he was having the same trouble as he had earlier signaling a taxi. He finally walked up to a taxi and jumped in the back seat.

I saw the other cabbies watching me closely, and remembered how eager they’d been to transport me the time before, when they thought I was flying solo. I was just about to approach the oldest cabbie—he kind of reminded me of Joe—thinking if I had to I could defend myself against this guy, when a hand grabbed my elbow and pulled. I swung around, prepared to use Harry Javelina to defend myself if the need arose, when I discovered it was Taylor who had a hold of me.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked. “Wasn’t today’s little river-rafting adventure sufficient excitement?”

I frowned. Just who was the older sister here?

“I wanted to stretch my legs,” I said. “Do a little shopping—you know, for family. To show how much I appreciate how great they’ve been, given my situation and all. So, if you don’t mind—”

“Gifts, my bilge pump. You’re following Manny De-Marco. I saw him leave the ship ahead of you.”

Busted.

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed,” I maintained.

“Come on, Tressa. Level with me for once,” Taylor said, and I thought about the conversation she’d had with my father.

“You might try you own advice there, sis,” I said. “I know for a fact you’re keeping something from me, too. I can tell,” I added, giving myself some intuitive power I didn’t really have.

“What are you talking about?” Taylor seemed flustered. “I’m not hiding anything.”

I looked at her. “Who said hiding? I didn’t say ‘hiding.’ That was your word.”

“Oh, this is ridiculous. Let’s go back to the ship.”

Meanwhile, after some negotiation it appeared Manny had assuaged the cabbie’s misgivings and he pulled out.

I ran to the old coot cabbie. “You go ahead, Taylor. I just want to catch up to Manny. Our river-rafting experience didn’t turn out as I’d hoped and I thought maybe we could hang out.”

I didn’t tell her that I thought he had involved himself somehow in a murder for profit that I’d first blown the whistle on, and I wanted to know what exactly he was up to.

I jumped in the taxi. To my irritation, Taylor joined me.

“Follow that cab!” I delivered the legendary line with all the finesse of a seasoned actor. Taylor grunted.

“So, you wanted to hang out with Manny, huh? Why didn’t you call out to him and tell him to wait for you instead of skulking around hiding behind that newspaper like some old-time private eye in an old-time B movie?” Taylor asked. Then she looked at me. Really looked at me. “You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong again? Aren’t you?”

Gulp. What to do without confessing the amnesia story was also so much bilge water?

“Okay, okay. So I was following Manny. I was curious. The guy has more secrets than the CIA. So what?”

“Tressa—”

“It’ll be cool. We’ll do some sightseeing as sisters. Hit some flea markets. Maybe spend some time wasting away in Margaritaville. Everything will be fine! Trust me!” I assured her. “Uh, make sure you don’t lose that taxi!” I barked to the cabbie.

She shook her head. “You literally have no common sense, do you?” Taylor asked, and I looked over at her.

“What do you mean?”

“The cruise line warns tourists about venturing out into Montego Bay alone. They counsel us to bring ashore only those items we won’t fret over should they be stolen. They educate us about drug dealers, pimps, thieves and corrupt cabbies, and you still decide to throw caution to the wind and leave the ship alone. Like I said. No common sense.”

“Hey, mon. Corrupt cabbie? Who says I’m corrupt cabbie? I good cabbie. And very good driver. Get you where you want to go.”

“See what you’ve done. You’ve upset him,” I scolded Taylor. “No, it’s fine. We’re fine. You’re fine!” I assured him. “If you keep that cab in sight, that is,” I added.

Taylor shook her head. “You’re hopeless.”

We drove the several miles from the cruise terminal to the city in relative quiet. Downtown Montego Bay, or MoBay as everyone called it, was a delightful array of colored storefronts. Yellows, pinks, mauves, oranges, purples, greens and reds, it looked like the color scheme from a children’s hospital.

“This is so cool,” I said. “Aren’t you glad we came?”

“I was here earlier,” Taylor said. “With Mom, Kimmie and Charlotte.”

“Townsend’s mom?” I said, surprised to find I felt a stab of some emotion I didn’t care to examine at not being invited along on the outing.

Taylor nodded. “The men were golfing,” she said. “I’d rather have been with them.”

I raised an eyebrow. Because of Rick, maybe?

We headed down a one-way street at the far end of the Shopping Street when the taxi stopped. I looked out the front windshield. Manny was paying his cabbie.

“This will do,” I told our cabbie, shoving Taylor out the door and onto the sidewalk. “Pay the man,” I told her, and she shook her head and paid the fare.

“See? I told you, woman. I’m honest businessman,” the cabbie said before driving away.

I pulled Taylor along, keeping a good hold on Harry Javelina in case someone coveted my cool bag. Mon.

“This is ridiculous,” Taylor said.

“Oh, quitcherbitchin’,” I said. “What’s done is done.”

“Hook you up with some ganja?” One of the less upstanding members of the MoBay community approached us.

“No, thank you,” I said, sweetly. “But thanks for asking.” We kept walking. “Aren’t you proud of me?” I asked. “Friendly and non-confrontational. Just like the cruise line recommends. I wonder how expensive their bags are here.”