Anchors Aweigh - 6 (20 page)
“Why? Are you getting tired of that ugly warthog?” Taylor said as we entered the flea market area Manny had turned into.
“It’s not a warthog. It’s a peccary, and I’m very partial to Harry. But I do need something cute and colorful for summer,” I pointed out.
“Oh? Peccaries are seasonal?”
“Uh, where’d he go?” I stopped. Manny had vanished. Not an easy thing for a guy that big to do. “Do you see him?”
Taylor looked around. “Nope. Guess he gave us the slip,” she said. “Tough break.”
“I sense your profound disappointment,” I snapped, searching the crowd for a giant who should stick out like a sore thumb.
“We should go,” Taylor said. “You mentioned a margarita? Well, I could use one about now.”
I looked at her. “For real?” I said, and she nodded. “You and me?” She nodded again.
“Cool, mon,” I said, deciding that maybe I didn’t really need to know where Manny was and what he was up to all that badly.
I was just about to agree and head straight for Margaritaville when I spotted a familiar figure skulk out of a nearby stall and head away from the flea market. Squee! It was David Frazier Compton, looking guilty as sin of something. His gaze darted from side to side as headed down a side street. I grabbed Taylor’s arm.
“Come with me!” I said.
“This is not the place to hail a cab,” she pointed out as we made our way through a maze of narrow streets and back alleys. “And I don’t think there are any bars down this way.”
“So, we’re off the beaten path a little,” I said. “It makes things interesting.”
“What are you up to now?” she asked.
Coral’s husband popped into a building a ways down. I pulled Taylor to a stop. I was getting a not-so-good feeling about our situation. Less people. Less traffic. Fewer witnesses. Could spell trouble with a big T.
“Just give me a minute to look into this shop,” I replied. “Then we’ll go.”
We came to the storefront David had disappeared into. One quick look, I told myself, and then we’d leave. I pulled Taylor around to an alley behind the building.
“This is not good,” my sister said.
“Stay here,” I commanded, and moved to a window to look in. It was a bar. But definitely not a tourist hotspot. So why would David come here?
“Let’s go, Tressa!” Taylor said, and I nodded.
“Okay. Yeah. Fine. Let’s hit it. I hear a frozen margarita calling my name, mon,” I agreed.
I left the small porch to join Taylor when a dilapidated cab pulled alongside. “Taxi?” the driver asked.
“Yes, thank God!” Taylor said, but I shook my head.
“No thank you, we’re good,” I told the driver, a nasty-looking character with teeth that hadn’t seen a toothbrush and floss in like…ever.
“I thought you said you were done with this little wild goose chase,” Taylor said. “Face it. We lost him. So get in the taxi already!” Taylor said, and opened the back door.
“Yes. Do get in, Miss Turner.” David Frazier Compton appeared from behind the corner of an adjacent building. “Please.”
“No. Really. You take this taxi. We can wait for the next one,” I said.
“Why don’t we share?” he suggested, and I didn’t care for the look in his eyes at all.
“Tressa?” Taylor questioned.
“In you go, ladies,” he said, and motioned to the car, and it was then I spotted his hand in the pocket of his pants, an ominous bulge so not of the Viagra kind. “You ride up front there,” he told Taylor. “Tressa and I’ll take the back.”
I nodded to her and we got in.
“We’re headed for Margaritaville,” Taylor said. “But you can have him take you where you want to go first,” she added, clearly nervous.
“How accommodating,” he said. “And you are sisters, right?”
I looked at him, keeping an eye on the hand in his pocket as well.
“I pay attention. I notice things. I’m in the information business much like you, Tressa,” he said. “As an agent, I’m required to know who is casting for what roles, what projects are coming up, along with what PR ops are available. So I pay close attention to everything and everyone around me who can affect my world either positively or negatively. That’s why I’ve made it a point to learn as much about you as I could, Tressa.”
“I’m flattered,” I said. “Do you really think I have what it takes?”
David looked puzzled. “I beg your pardon? I don’t follow.”
“You’re thinking I might have potential as an actress, right?” I said. “You’re thinking of offering me representation. Oh, I’m so happy! Down deep I always thought I could make it on the big screen. Do you think they will ever do a remake of
True Grit,
because I’d make an awesome Mattie Ross of Dardenelle County.” I paused and cleared my throat. “ ‘Do you know a Marshall Rooster Cogburn? They say he has grit. I want a man with grit,’ ” I started quoting the famous movie lines. “ ‘If you think you can cheat me, you’re mistaken. You’ve not heard the last of Mattie Ross. You may well hear from my lawyer, Daggett.’ ” I paused again. “Not bad, huh?”
“You can’t be serious,” David said. “I’ve seen better line delivery from a mime.”
I resisted the urge to pummel the guy.
“I know. I know,” I said. “It’s probably sacrilege to even attempt such a remake. After all, there was only one Duke Wayne. Right? By the way, did you know that John Wayne’s birthplace is only several counties over from my hometown? How cool is that, mon? They have a museum and everything.” I finished up, my motormouth running out of steam. I opened my mouth to take another breath and ask if the agent thought Westerns would ever make a comeback when David raised a hand.
“Enough chatter. Why were you following me?”
“You? We weren’t following you,” Taylor put in, and I wanted to slap a muzzle on her. “We were following Manny DeMarco.” She looked at me. “Weren’t we?”
I nodded.
“Why were you following Mr. DeMarco?” David asked.
“You’ve heard of the little wager on board
The Epiphany,”
I said. “You know. The one as to whether I’ll end up with Manny DeMarco or Rick Townsend,” I said. He nodded. “Well, I just wanted to find out everything I could about Manny. Sometimes he’s a little…secretive, you know,” I added. “Men really don’t know how to communicate effectively.” I shook my head sadly.
“And so?” David said.
“So, when I saw him leave the ship, I decided to follow him and see where he was going. I know. So wrong of me. I’m, like, totally ashamed. Really I am. Deeply ashamed. But there you have it.”
“You expect me to believe that story,” David said. “When I know you’ve been snooping on the Internet trying to dig up dirt on me?”
I could see the way this was going. And I was getting the feeling it was strictly one way.
“What did Coral tell you about me?” he asked, and I frowned.
“Coral? She didn’t tell me anything.”
“You’re lying,” David said. “I can see it in your face. What did she say?” He patted his bulge to make his point.
“We were talking about marriage, and she said you’d been there for her through some terrible times,” I said, bending the truth a wee bit. “She said your being in her life helped her sober up. That’s what she said. But that’s all she said. She’s a special person,” I told him.
“She is that,” David said, giving me a long, considering look. “And that’s all she said?”
I nodded.
“You know, I’d like to believe you, but I don’t,” he said. “I think she shared more than that with you. Did she tell you about her drinking? About her accident? That she hit someone when she was drunk? That she blacked out and left the scene?” he asked.
I sucked in my breath.
I did something horrible.
That’s what Coral had said when I’d asked how she’d sobered up. No wonder she’d quit drinking. Why wasn’t there anything online about the accident when I’d Googled her then?
“Ah, as I suspected. She did mention it,” David said, seeing my expression. “Coral’s a fool. More so when she drank. What else did she share with her new friend? Did she also tell you that she despised me and wished me dead? Did she admit she was trying to kill me?”
“Uh, what’s going on?” Taylor asked, but I could only stare at David.
“Kill you? What do you mean?” I said. “You’re the one trying to kill her.”
He shot a look at me.
“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” he said. “I have no intention of killing Coral. Why would I? She’s my meal ticket.”
“For the insurance,” I said. “The policy you hold on her. The one with you as beneficiary.”
“Excuse me, but what’s this about murder?” Taylor asked, once again ignored.
“What policy?” David said to me. “Coral’s insurance goes to her mother in the event of her death. She was adamant about that. What on earth would lead you to believe I wanted Coral dead? Actually, I’m quite fond of her, you know. In my own way, of course.”
“She’s your meal ticket?” I shook my head. “You’re only with her because of money? You don’t love her? She doesn’t love you,” I said, trying to sort things out by talking them out. “So why did she marry you?” I asked. “Unless.” I stopped. Of course. David knew about Coral’s accident yet it had never been made public. Why? Because neither of them had reported it.
I thought some more.
Blackmail! David was blackmailing Coral! It was clear now. He’d keep Coral’s dirty little secret if she kept him in the manner to which he’d become accustomed.
But, if David wasn’t the one planning to end his wife’s life then…it had to be either Steve or Ben.
“Shit,” I said.
“I’d say ‘deep shit,’ Miss Turner,” David said.
“Okay. That’s it! What’s going on?” Taylor asked. “I don’t think we’re headed in the right direction,” she said.
“We’re taking the long way home,” David said. “My new friend Cruz here has friends who know how to deal with people who can’t resist sticking their noses where they really don’t belong.” He shook his head. “So, all this time you thought I was plotting to kill Coral. That’s priceless. If only I’d known that was what you were looking into, I could have assuaged your fears quite easily. But now…now you really know too much. Sorry, ladies, but it looks like your Lifestyle Makeovers end here. I can’t risk you getting back onboard the ship and having a little tête a tête with Coral.”
He couldn’t mean…
“Holy shit!” I reached out to punch David in the face, reaching for the bulge in his pocket at the same time he did. “Grab the wheel, Taylor! Grab the wheel!”
I waited for the car to take a sudden veer and braced myself to plow into a building or wall but instead the car began to slow. And slow. And slow.
“Get out!” Taylor yelled. “I got the keys! Run! Run!”
I found myself locked in David’s surprisingly strong grip. Had his limp-wristed overtures also been a con?
“Let go!” I yelled. “Let. Go!”
The car door behind David was unceremoniously yanked open. I took quick advantage and shoved David as hard as I could.
“I said, let go!” I yelled, and we both tumbled out into the dirt.
“Do as the lady says,” I heard, and looked up to see Manny DeMarco above us, a huge foot pressing down on David’s throat. David’s eyes got big and buggy. He let go of me.
“I think he’s got a gun,” I told Manny, my breath coming in fits and starts. He shrugged.
“Who doesn’t?” Manny said.
“I also believe he’s blackmailing Coral,” I said, getting to my feet and brushing myself off “He sure as hell isn’t much of an agent. He belittled my Mattie Ross performance. Some agent,” I spat. “And this is the second set of clothes I’ve ruined in one day! You’re gonna pay for these.” I pointed to David. “You are.”
“Barbie?”
I stopped. My legs were shaking so badly they almost couldn’t support me, my arms and hands a palsy fest. “Yeah?”
“Get out of here.”
“Huh?”
“Leave. Now!” Manny said.
“Come again?”
“You two. Vamoose. Leave. Now.”
I started to object, saw the look on his face and thought better of it.
“Okay. Okay. Message received. We’re gone. And you, buster?” I stepped over David as I went to leave. “You’ll never work in this town again!”
I retrieved my sister, whose shaking was only slightly worse than mine, and we started walking.
“Uh, ladies? That way.” Manny pointed us in the opposite direction.
We did a U-turn, finally making our way back to the bustling shopping district of MoBay, where taxis waited to take us wherever our hearts desired.
I hailed one.
“Where we going, ladies?” the cabbie said.
I looked at Taylor. “I suppose you’re not up for Margaritaville now,” I said, thinking I’d consider myself fortunate if I survived the tongue lashing I got from Taylor on the two-mile ride back to the cruise terminal.
“To the cruise terminal, James,” I said, deciding I was going to remain onboard the
Epiphany
for the rest of the cruise. No matter what.
“Cancel that. Take us to Margaritaville,” I heard Taylor say, and I looked at her.
“Taylor? Are you sure?”
“You’re damn right, I am. After this shore excursion? No way am I going back to that bloody ship sober!” she said.
“Irie!” I said. “Irie!”
Jamaican translation: You’ve made me so happy!
Squee!
We returned to the ship a full hour before departure. I helped Taylor to her cot and left her there to doze. I’d intended to ply Taylor with alcohol and then ply her with questions as to the identity of the mystery man she had a tender for, but once Taylor had a drink or two and loosened up a bit, I discovered I was actually having fun with my sister. Fun! Since this was something I’d rarely experienced with Taylor before, I found myself reluctant to spoil the moment and had avoided the subject of men altogether.
We’d get to the issue eventually, but right now I needed to talk to Coral, to tell her I knew her agent-husband was blackmailing her and tell Davenport about David’s attempt to have Taylor and Tressa kidnapped—or worse. And also I had to convince Davenport that, if David wasn’t out to off Coral, then that meant either Courtney or Sherri was the target.
I was headed to the security office when I spotted Courtney and Sherri in chairs near the reception area. I hurried over to them.
“Thank God you’re both here. Are you okay? Has something happened? Have you figured out which one of you is married to the Black Widower? Is that why you’re here?” I asked. “You should demand the FBI be brought in. Insist on round-the-clock protection. Have him thrown in the brig.”
“What on earth are you talking about, Tressa?” Courtney asked. “We’re here about this morning. Word got around to the cruise line of our little rafting incident, and we’ve got to file a report.”
I frowned. “You’re not here to report an attempted murder plot?” I asked.
The women stared. “Murder? Whose murder?”
Yours!” I said. Courtney and Sherri looked at each other.
“Hers?”
They pointed to each other.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. One of you.”
They looked at each other again.
“You better sit down, Tressa,” Courtney suggested, motioning to a chair. “What happened to you? You don’t look good. Does she, Sherri? You’re a total mess. And you’ve got us worried.”
“You should be worried,” I said, taking a seat. “Both of you. I’m sorry to have to be the one to break this to you, but Sherri…” I took her hand. “I think your husband may be trying to kill you,” I told her.
“Huh?” Sherri looked like I did when I began the math portion of the ACT in high school.
I nodded and squeezed her hand, then released it. “However, on the off chance I could be wrong,” I said, turning back to Courtney and taking her hand. “Courtney, I think
your
husband may be trying to kill you.”
“Kill me? Steve?” She looked horrified. “Tressa, I think you need to go lie down and rest for a bit,” Courtney said. “Don’t you, Sherri? You’re really not making any sense at all. That bump to your head. Now you show up here all messed up—”
“I’m fine,” I snapped. “You two are the ones in peril.”
“I think Courtney’s right, Tressa. You need rest,” Sherri said.
“You don’t get it! I overheard one of your husbands!” I smacked a hand palm-down on the table. “The first night. Before the mandatory safety drill. I overheard a husband planning to whack his wife for insurance money.”
Courtney and Sherri simply sat and stared. At
me.
Then at each other. At their hands.
“Didn’t you hear me? I overheard someone plotting his wife’s demise for dinero!” I repeated.
“I thought you lost your memory,” Courtney said. “How can you remember what happened the first night aboard ship?”
“It was a ruse!” I said. “A scam! A hoax! For self-protection. You see, I think someone became suspicious of me when I tried to tip you all off at the Stardust that first night with my insurance infomercial, and they decided I knew too much, tried to silence me by pushing me down the stairwell, failed, decided to give it another try in sickbay by smothering me with a pillow, failed once again, but left enough of a clue behind that I was able to narrow it to three or four people. Now, that appears to be down to two: your husbands, Steve and Ben.”
Silence greeted my rather breathless narrative.
This time, it was Courtney who reached out to pat my hand.
“I think you’re…confused, Tressa,” she said. “You’ve had an…eventful cruise so far. First you’re surprised by the unexpected appearance of a former fiancé. You’re torn between two lovers, unable to make up your mind between two great guys. You take a tumble down the stairs and suffer a head injury and decide to tell everybody you lost your memory. This just isn’t how normal people behave. But who can blame you? You’re under a lot of stress. And people under stress imagine things. It happens all the time. Especially with head injuries. I’m a nurse. I know.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t make this stuff up. It happened. The conversation I overheard.”
“You misunderstood it,” Courtney said.
“The fall down the stairs.”
“An accident. You slipped and fell,” she explained.
“Almost being smothered with a pillow in sickbay,” I countered.
“You dreamt it,” Courtney responded. “Besides, my husband and I don’t carry any life insurance. I told you that. We cut corners. Canceled our policy. And I doubt Ben and Sherri carry all that much either. What about it, Sherri?”
Her friend shrugged. “Enough to bury us, I suppose,” she said, and I noticed she shivered. “I really don’t know. Ben handles that stuff.”
“Don’t you see, Tressa?” Courtney said. “All this is just is the product of stress combined with a pretty significant head injury. You yourself have to admit you’ve been acting pretty strangely. Running back and forth that first night between Manny and Rick. Entering the contest to win the TV on the heels of your head injury. Jumping into the river to try and save a two hundred eighty-pound man. It all points to some skewed reasoning.”
I stared at her. My God. She was actually questioning the state of my sanity. My reason. I’d been seen as eccentric before, but never psychologically disturbed.
I stood. “I know what I heard,” I said. “And I know what I heard spells out an SOS for one of you. An SOS as in ‘Spouse Offs Spouse.’ And I’ll do whatever it takes to narrow the suspects down to one. In the meantime, if I were you, I would avoid spending any alone time with my hubby. It could be hazardous to your health. Forewarned is forearmed,” I added.
“I can see I’ve upset you—” Courtney said.
Hah. Ya think? Here I was trying to save some poor unsuspecting wife—at, I might add, considerable expense to my own cruise experience—and this was the thanks I got: A characterization just a few degrees this side of Roswell, New Mexico?
“Just remember what I said,” I told them. “ ‘This a foul wind a brewin’ on the
Epiphany
—and it isn’t the result of trainers run amok.”
I hurried over to the reception area myself. “I need to see the security chief right away,” I requested.
“Is it another ‘matter of life and death’?” Erica, the girl I’d spoken to the last time, referenced my previous visit.
“Wow. You’re good,” I said, “because it
is
a matter of life and death. Yep,” I went on, wagging a finger at her. “You. You’re good. Your talents are wasted on front desk duty. With your skills you should at the very least be, oh, I don’t know, assisting the shipboard magician, maybe?” I said. Her attitude had given me one of my own.
“As I told your two friends, Mr. Davenport is unavailable at present,” she said, giving me a get-lost look. “You’re welcome to wait if you like, but I’m not sure how long it will be,” she added.
I thought over my options. I could go straight to Coral with my suspicions and confront her…
“You wouldn’t by chance be able to tell me what stateroom Coral LaFavre is in,” I asked.
Erica shook her head. “I couldn’t and wouldn’t.”
“But we’re good friends, you see,” I went on. “As a matter of fact, she came up to my cabin earlier and we shared a box of Godiva chocolates.”
“You’ve been eating Godiva chocolates? On the Custom Cruise to a New You? You’ve been cheating and eating Godiva chocolate? They won’t even let us drink soda while we’re working because it sets a bad example for the passengers,” she said. “And all the time you’re cheating with chocolate!”
“It’s my comfort food!” I defended. “Coral’s is French fries and ketchup. So, what’s yours?” I asked.
Erica looked to her right and left and picked up a dark drawstring pouch and shook it. “Skittles,” she said.
“It’s our little secret,” I promised. “Now about that cabin room?”
“That’s
my
little secret,” she said.
Damn. Next time I’d bring the Godiva along and see how bribery worked.
I made a stop by Manny’s cabin to find out what happened after Taylor and I’d left him behind on land and stuck my ear to the door to see if I could figure out if Aunt Mo was inside. When I heard the spinning
Wheel of Fortune
wheel and heard a familiar voice exclaim, “You don’t need to buy no vowels! What are you? An idiot!” I hightailed it out of there.
Stonewalled, at least for the moment, I decided I’d better go back and check on my lightweight little sis. I let myself into the cabin and quietly tiptoed to her bedside. I shook my head recalling Taylor’s earlier overindulgence: She would have put Jimmy Buffet to shame with her “wasting away again” routine. I had done the big sis thing, tipping back a single Red Stripe beer and letting her vent and philosophize on the sad state of things in general, lamenting my loss of memory and my talent for trouble.
As I bent over to tuck her covers around her, she grabbed my hand. “You know, I never meant for it to happen,” she mumbled.
“Huh?” I said, then, “It’s all right, sis. Everyone has to break loose once in a while,” I said, thinking she was apologizing for getting groggy on the grog.
“It’s not all right!” Taylor said. “It’s not. You saw him first.”
I frowned. “Who?” I said. “What are you talking about?”
“You saw him first,” she mumbled. “I know that. Prior claim and all. Still, I never meant for it to happen. Honest. But I think it might be…at least for me…it just might be…love.”
I took a step back.
Saw him first? Prior claim?
Love?
I put a hand to my suddenly heavy heart and dropped to my bed.
Ahoy, Davy Jones, we need to talk. A cowgirl from the Hawkeye state with a heartache as big as Texas really needs to know. Do tell. How did ye get the courage to cut out yer own heart?