Anchors Aweigh - 6 (23 page)

I hesitated.

“You’re protecting him,” she said. “Aren’t you? You do have feelings for him, don’t you?”

I did. I couldn’t deny it. What those feelings were and how deep they ran was a question for the jury.

“I feel a…connection,” I admitted. “A responsibility to look out for him. He’s had my back more than a few times.”

“He can look out for himself,” Taylor said. “We need to think about how this could affect us. What if something has happened to David? What if your match made in bedlam had something to do with it? Do you even know what the guy does for a living? Do you even care? If David’s body washes up on some beach somewhere and we’ve kept this information to ourselves, we’re screwed!”

“You’re getting freaked out, Taylor. There’s no way Manny DeMarco had anything to do with David disappearing. Most likely, once we got loose, he knew the jig was up and decided a nice quiet life in MoBay beat what he faced if he showed his sleazy face on this ship or in the US of A again,” I said. “I know Manny. He wouldn’t just kill somebody.”

“How do you know?” Taylor asked. “How? Because you think you might love him? Is that how? And where does that leave Rick?”

“Why are you so concerned for Townsend all of a sudden?” I asked, but suspecting I already knew the answer.

“It’s not about Rick. It’s about you, Tressa,” Taylor said. “About you discovering that priceless and rare treasure that only comes along once in a lifetime and having the courage to reach out and grab it before it’s gone. True love is a rare and precious ultimate treasure, Tressa.”

I sat down. My legs wouldn’t support me. “You sound like more of an authority on true love than I am, Taylor,” I told her. “Are you?”

My sister stared at me. “Am I what?”

“In love?”

Her cheeks grew pink. Her eyes wide.

“You are, aren’t you?” I said.

She shook her head. “No. I don’t know. Of c-course not,” she stammered.

“Your tongue gets loose when you drink,” I told her. “You…said things.”

“I did?” She dropped onto her bed.

“You’re in love with Rick, aren’t you?” I said, wincing at the unexpectedly sharp pain I felt delivering those words. It felt as if my heart was ripped in two. Unlock the chest, Davy. Heart in hand, I’m coming.

Taylor popped back to her feet. “Rick! You think I’m in love with Rick? That’s ridiculous. He’s loved you since I can remember.”

I flinched as if Taylor had struck me. Oh, gawd, maybe I was delusional. And it was contagious.

I got to my feet. “What are you saying, Taylor? You
don’t
love Rick?”

“Of course I love him,” she said.

I sat back down. “I’m confused.”

Taylor joined me on the couch. “I love him like a brother!” she said. “He’s been like one to me all my life. I’ve never thought of him in any other way. I couldn’t. It would be…icky.”

“I’m confused,” I said again. “If you don’t think you’re in love with Rick, then it must be…” I stared at her. “Manny! You’re in love with Manny DeMarco?”

Taylor jumped to her feet again. “I am not!” she said. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m confused,” I said for the third time.

“It’s P.D.!” Taylor said, dropping back to the couch and taking my hand. “P.D.!”

“P.D.?” I repeated, stunned. Dawkins? She was in love with my trooper bud, Patrick Dawkins? The only guy I’d known who’d accepted me for me?
That
P.D. Dawkins?

“I was going to tell you. Honest. But I thought maybe it wouldn’t matter. I knew you were really fond of Patrick, but I honestly thought you’d finally figure out you were meant to be with Rick and then I wouldn’t feel guilty for taking Patrick away from you and we’d all live happily ever after. But you kept dragging your feet. Waffling. Wavering. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Two steps forward, three steps back. Then, when this cruise came along, I thought, yes! She’ll have Rick all to herself. He’ll seal the deal. Only Manny and his aunt Mo showed up and then you hit your head and there was the memory thing and I really didn’t want to tell you anyway, so I just decided I’d back off and walk away from Patrick until you decided who you wanted. For however long it took. I’m sorry, Tressa. Does any of this make any sense at all?”

More than she knew. More than I knew. It seemed everyone knew how Rick felt about me. Joe. Taylor. Kimmie. Even a stranger had seen it. Why had it taken me so long to recognize what everyone else had seen all along?

I knew why.

I’d had the ultimate blonde moment and—at least where Ranger Rick was concerned—it had lasted a lifetime.

“Are you angry?” Taylor asked. “Upset? Hurt? Shocked? What?”

“I’m blonde,” was all I could think to say. “Totally, undeniably blonde. But a recovering one.”

She looked at me. “Does that mean you’re going to be okay?” she asked.

I took her hand. “That means we’re going to be okay,” I told her.

I bundled up the chocolate box and grabbed the high-def TV certificate and left the stateroom and hurried down to Manny and Mo’s cabin. I took a deep breath and knocked. To my relief Manny opened the door.

“Can I come in?” I asked, and he motioned me inside, closing the door behind us. Thank goodness, Aunt Mo was nowhere to be seen.

“Some of them have been eaten,” I said, holding the candy box out to him, a lump in my throat the size of a coconut. Tears stung my eyes. “They were really delicious,” I added.

“Barbie chose Rick the Dick,” Manny said, looking at the candy box and back at me.

I was back to being Barbie.

“I’m sorry,” I said, as the moisture filled to overflowing and big, fat tears spilled out onto my cheeks.

Manny reached out with a thumb and wiped the moisture from my face. “Manny’s never seen Barbie cry,” he said.

“Few people have,” I said, snuffling up snot. “I’m a totally messy crier.”

Manny smiled.

“If things had been different,” I said, feeling the need to explain, “If I hadn’t met Townsend first. If he hadn’t been there from the beginning—”

Manny touched a finger to my lips, silencing my feeble attempts to explain. “Manny gets it,” he said. “We’re cool.”

I started to cry even harder. I felt like I’d lost a best friend.

“Promise?” I said, blubbering.

“Totally,” he said.

I dropped the box of Godivas and ran into his arms. As soon as he closed them tight around me, I realized Manny was no more capable of cold-blooded murder for hire than I was.

“About David Frazier what’s-his-name,” I said.

“He and Manny had a little heart to heart and he decided the climate in MoBay was healthier for him than the West Coast,” he said, and I could sense the amusement in his voice. “All things considered,” he added.

“So he admitted he was blackmailing Coral over a vehicular homicide that never occurred?” I asked, and I could feel Manny nod. “That’s one spouse well rid of,” I added.

“They aren’t married,” Manny said, and I finally looked up at him.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“True confessions,” Manny said. “The dude’s already married—to another woman in New York. Under another name. Guy’s a career con artist,” he added.

“So, there’s no reason for Coral to want him dead—other than the fact that she hates his guts and he’s a bottom-feeding bilge rat. Right?” I said.

“Right,” Manny said.

I laid my head back on his chest and listened to the strong, slow beat of his heart against my ear.

“Manny’s got a confession to make, too,” he said, and my breath hitched in my throat.

“Yes?” I asked, keeping my head next to his chest.

“Brianna the babe,” he said, and I frowned.

“Yes?”

“Manny made a deal with her,” he said.

“Deal? What kind of deal?”

“She’d keep Rick the Dick occupied so Manny could put the moves on Barbie,” he confessed.

I raised my head up and took a step back.

“How underhanded! How diabolical! How…you!” I said. “How could you?” I asked.

Manny just smiled, his teeth indecently white. “All’s fair in love and war, babe,” he said.

How do you argue with that?

“So, do you want to break the news to Aunt Mo or should I?” I asked. “Or, we could do it together,” I suggested.

“Manny’s got it,” he said. “Mo’s sharp. She probably saw the way the wind was blowing way before now.”

“You think so?”

He nodded.

“But just in case, you should have the ship’s doctor, Bones Baker, standing by when you tell her. Okay?”

He smiled and nodded. “Roger that,” he said.

I turned to leave, remembered the TV certificate in my pocket and fished it out. I reached over to put it in his hand.

“Give the TV to Aunt Mo,” I said. “It might be some consolation to her,” I told him.

He shook his head and closed my fingers over the prize. “Keep it,” he said. “It’s yours.”

Like my heart.

The sentiment was there. Strong yet unspoken. And I knew I had a matter of seconds before I was bawling my eyes out again.

I nodded and walked to the door, opened it and stopped.

“What do you do for a living?” I asked, turning back to look at him one more time.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he said. He smiled. Your basic killer smile.

I left the cabin in tears—and at a speed sufficient to capture the America’s Cup. It was true. Breaking up was hard to do.

CHAPTER TWENTY

I sprinted back to the stateroom to finish off my crying jag and shove my face under the faucet. I stopped short when I discovered more “sail mail” had been delivered in my absence. I picked the envelope up, saw my name on the front in fancy, calligraphic handwriting, and flipped the envelope over to open it.

A one-sheet note card was inside, written in black calligraphic print as well; the print resembled the format of a formal invitation.

My mouth flopped open when I read the mysterious missive.

Ranger Rick Townsend requests the honor of your presence at Wedding Bell Isle, Grand Cayman, one PM sharp, to facilitate uniting in marriage this man and this woman, Rick Townsend and Tressa Turner, in holy matrimony. Items required:

• Passport
  

• Cruise passenger documentation (white slip)
  

• You
  

Come sail away with me to another world, Tressa.

From one lover to another,

RR

I read and reread the note ten times before it finally sank in. Once it did, I started to shake. Bad. This was what Townsend had meant when he said he had plans for us and asked me to save time for him? He’d had marriage on his mind!

I began to squeal. I jumped up and down. I danced around the stateroom like a maniac.

“He wants to marry me! He wants to marry me! Ranger Rick wants to marry me!”

Marriage!

’Til death do us part!

Forever and ever and ever.

Oh. God.

I stopped dancing.

The time had come. It was put up or shut up, hold ‘em or fold ‘em time. It was time for Calamity Jayne to show her cards, end her bluff, cash it in. Put up or shut up time.

Bet the farm on the Romeo Ranger.

I thought about it. What would it be like to be married to Ranger Rick, to surprise everyone with our wedding announcement? To see their faces (especially Joe’s) when they found out. To know that Rick had chosen me. Wanted me. From this day forward.

I could see it all.

And I liked what I saw.

More than liked.

I embraced it.

Welcomed it.

Reveled in it.

Yeah. I thought about it.

For all of thirty seconds.

Time’s up?

Big deal.

Tugboat Tressa was full steam ahead.

I checked my watch, screeched when I saw it was closing in on eleven, and ran to the drawer to yank out clean underwear. I hoofed it to the closet and grabbed one of only two dresses I’d brought with me, a white sleeveless sundress with buttons down the front. I showered, shampooed, shaved, dried, lotioned, brushed, flossed, plucked, made up the face, braided the hair to minimize the frizz factor, and I was ready to go in under forty-five minutes. Damn, I’m good.

I stood in front of the mirror and surveyed the blushing bride. Not exactly the way I’d envisioned my wedding day. Not the place—although an island in the Caribbean was nothing to sneeze at. Not the circumstances—a brush with death, an encounter with a blackmailer and a shipboard murder mystery weren’t necessarily the kind of bachelorette party games I’d dreamed of And the dress? Definitely not the dress of my dreams. And the hair had always been subject to anyone’s guess.

But the groom?

In all of my young girl wedding fantasies only one groom had waited for me at the altar. Only one man had slipped the ring on my finger. One man had pledged his love.

And that man was, at this very moment, waiting for me at Wedding Bell Isle.

Waiting for his bride.

Giddy with shock, happiness, anticipation and a feeling that this was the right man at the right time, I grabbed Harry Javelina (no way was I leaving Harry out of the moment) and hurried to find the man of my wedding-day daydreams. Oh, and the naughty dead-of-night ones, too. And no. You can’t have details.

Finding my way to Wedding Bell Isle, the Mecca for couples who want to take the plunge, was easy. Everyone knew Wedding Bell Isle. It was famous. Or infamous, depending on how the quickie union played out.

Love-smitten cruisers could pick the wedding package of their choice, select the location they preferred, a quaint church, a small chapel, a famous botanical garden, a stately mansion, or an intimate ceremony on a secluded stretch of white sand.

Caribbean Weddings R Us.

How romantic.

I hurried up to the Wedding Bell Isle headquarters, keeping a lookout for one incredibly unpredictable ranger-type who just happened to be my future husband. I stumbled a little when that thought hit home.

Husband.

I was going to have a husband.

I was going to be a Mrs.

Mrs. Rick Townsend.

Tressa Townsend.

Tressa Turner-Townsend if I hyphenated.

Ye gods. What a mouthful.

I looked around for Rick. Where was the groom?

I’d decided to ask at the counter when I heard my name.

“Tressa? What on earth are you doing here?”

I spotted Courtney Kayser walking in my direction.

“I’m looking for Rick. Have you seen him?” I asked.

She frowned. “No. But we just got here a bit ago. Don’t tell me. Are you and Rick getting married?” she asked. I nodded.

“I think so,” I said. “At least that’s what the invite said,” I told her. “And you haven’t seen him?”

“I’m sure he’ll be along. He’s probably finishing up arrangements. Come, let me buy you a rum punch over there. They’re fabulous.” I hesitated and she took my arm. “Come on, silly, you’ll be able to see him from there.” She led me to a table and went to get us each a drink.

“What are you doing here?” I asked when she returned to the table, still keeping a lookout for Ranger Rick.

“Can you believe it? Steve convinced me to renew our vows. He’s off somewhere buying flowers or something. To new beginnings,” she said, and raised her glass when our drinks arrived. I did the same.

“New beginnings,” I said, taking a long, thirsty drink, a little out of sorts with my soon-to-be-groom. Where could he be?

“So I was right after all,” Courtney said, and I took another drink, keeping an eye peeled for Townsend.

“Right about what?” I asked.

“You picking Rick. I knew it. So, how did Manny take it?” she asked. I frowned, wondering why she’d think I’d already spoken to Manny. “Was he devastated? I imagine he didn’t show it. Men don’t, you know. Not like we women do.”

“We’re cool,” was all I said, my vision beginning to get fuzzy and my head loopy.

“I bet the farm on you and Rick,” she said. “I’m a gambler, you know. But you already know that. It drives Steve batty. He’s always lecturing me about my spending. Stop going to the casinos. Quit buying those scratch tickets. Leave off the lottery tickets. Well, the joke’s on him. Drink up, Tressa. Isn’t it delicious?”

It was, I decided, as I took another drink, but it sure must be potent. I was feeling goofier by the minute.

“Hey, I have an idea, Tressa. I’ll be your maid of honor and you can be mine. Won’t that be fun? Tressa? Tressa?”

I heard Courtney but she sounded like she was speaking to me from a long way off. I tried to focus on her but she’d become a shadowy figure without shape or definition.

“Tressa?”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” I said, feeling myself falling.

“Tressa! Tressa?”

I kissed the pavement.

Toot toot! Tugboat Tressa had just been left at the altar.

I awoke, feeling groggy, my tongue thick inside my mouth, my clothing soaked.

“She’s waking up! We need to do it!”

Sunlight made my head hurt.

“Whaa?” I said, trying to open my eyes but the brightness keeping them closed.

“We need to roll her over on her stomach first. Then just keep her face in the water. That ought to do it.”

I forced one eye to open. Everything was a blur.

“Help me get her over!”

“Whaa?” I sounded like a spaz.

“Welcome to Rum Point, Tressa. A rather secluded area of Rum Point, I’m afraid, that people rarely come to since that last devastating hurricane. Oh, Tressa, I’m so sorry it had to come to this,” I heard through the fog in my head. “I liked you. I felt bad about writing that wedding invitation. Really, I did. But it was the only way I knew of to get you off the ship alone. I knew you’d go in a New York minute if you thought Rick was waiting to marry you. And I was right, wasn’t I? Oh, Tressa. You really should’ve left well enough alone. You should have just enjoyed being an object of desire between two divine men. You should have minded your own business. You’ve really left us no choice. And now you’ve ruined your grandmother’s honeymoon cruise. A suicide in the family tends to spoil the moment forever.”

That one got my other eye open.

“Suueeside?” I managed, feeling slobber dribble out of my mouth.

“Yes. Suicide. Your suicide, Tressa, you poor, sweet, messed-up, mixed-up, delusional thing, you. And who can blame you. After all you’ve been through?”

“Won’t bleeve sueside,” I managed.

“Oh, I think they will believe, Tressa. After all, you even left a suicide note.”

Suicide note? I blinked. I’d remember writing a suicide note. Wouldn’t I?

“You don’t remember, do you?” the shadow said. “That’s priceless considering your little flim-flam. But don’t worry, I’ll refresh your memory. The note you left for the ship’s doctor, silly. I came across it when I went back to retrieve that damned buff from the infirmary. You’d just checked yourself out. I saw the note you left for the doctor. Such a nice, courteous thing to do. I read it and thought it might come in handy. As usual, I was right. It was perfect:
’I can’t take it anymore. Thank you for everything you’ve done, but I’m out of here. Tressa.’ ”

“Siit,” I said, trying to curse. That’s what I got for being polite and writing friggin’ thank-yous.

“Your note will be found inside your beloved Javelina pack. In fact, thanks to Harry here, that’s when I first knew you were faking your memory loss. The little girl at the gangway. She asked where you got it and you told her the Grand Canyon. I knew you were faking the memory loss. So, I knew you’d have to be dealt with eventually. You just wouldn’t let it go. Internet research. Your reporting background. You were like a starving bloodhound on the scent of red meat.”

“Wh-why?” I finally got out.

“Oh, Tressa, you still haven’t learned your lesson, have you? It’s that kind of curiosity that got you here. But I suppose it doesn’t matter now. You were right. It is all about money. It always has been. Just not the way you thought.”

I shook my head.

“It was that stupid conversation you overheard. When I found out what cabin you were in, I knew you’d overheard our phone conversation. But you wouldn’t let it go. You thought some guy was planning to kill his wife on the cruise and collect a big life insurance policy. You couldn’t have been more wrong. It was the other way around. It was a wife planning to kill her husband. And not for insurance money. It was all about the lottery ticket, silly. The one sold in Farley and never claimed. A five million dollar lottery ticket—a jackpot I won and don’t plan on splitting with my penny-pinching miser of a husband in a divorce settlement. But the only way to avoid that was to get rid of him and make it look like an accident, and then make it appear there was no possible motive for me to want my husband dead. No life insurance. No motive. I could move away from Farley, hold on to the winning ticket and redeem it several months down the road where nobody would be the wiser. And if they were suspicious? So what? Suspicion isn’t proof. But you? You narrowed the plot down to two couples. Once you learned about the lottery winnings, you would have figured it out.

“And then there was that damned buff. The buff with my hair and my DNA all over it. I had to get that buff back, but you held on to that damned warthog backpack like it was a Gucci bag or something.”

“Pecc-ry,” I corrected.

“Oh, Tressa, up until you came stumbling along, my plan was foolproof,” Courtney lamented.

“Sawree,” I mumbled.

“I’d done my homework. All the research. I’d read stories about problems with security on cruises. How few cases were followed up on and even fewer prosecuted. How security could be lax. When I saw this cruise offered, I saw my chance. It was supposed to be over by now. But you had to spoil things by showing up on the rafting excursion. We’d planned that carefully. I slipped Steve enough of a drug to make him lethargic and dizzy. I’m an L.P.N., remember? Ben would ‘accidentally’ fall into the water. Poor Sherri would naturally plead for someone to save Ben. Steve being the big lug he is would jump in and die a hero trying to save his best friend. But you. You had to come along and jump in and take the hero role yourself. You just wouldn’t let it go.”

“The fawl?” I mumbled.

“Oh, yes, your little tumble down the stairs. I’d read about a case where a cruise passenger died from a shove down the stairs, so we tried that. Well, you survived the fall and then came up with the amnesia story—nice touch there, by the way—and that took us aback for a while. But when I found out you were faking, I started making a case for you being mentally messed up, citing your erratic and bizarre behavior, and expressing my concerns over your stability to everyone I spoke with. Including Sam Davenport. You have to admit, Tressa, your behavior is way out of the box,” she said.

“I perrrfer quirky,” I mumbled.

“Have it your way,” Courtney said. “And that’s a brief synopsis of how we’ve arrived at the tragic end of Tressa Turner’s Jumpstart to No Life Cruise. At least Rick will have your lovely sister to console him.”