Stowaway (8 page)

“Good,” says Luke.
“You’re free. Since your employer is dead, how do you feel about taking on a
new job?”

Chapter 7

What! Where is he
going with this?

Mike narrows his
eyes to slits, looking for the angle. He glances at Luke’s face to mine, then
back again. I try to copy Luke’s expression, since I have no idea what he has
planned. Satisfied we are indeed serious, Mike finally responds.

“What do I have to
do?”

“Nothing
hard.
Or different.
Just keep hanging around
that painting and let Maggie and I know if you see anything suspicious,”
replies Luke.

“Fine!
When do I get paid?”

“Now.
At least, some of it.
The rest after
the auction.
You’ll earn more if you can help us identify the killer. No
hands-on stuff, though.
Just watching.
Maggie will
sort out the details and settle up with you.”

I jerk Luke aside.

“Um, I will settle
up with him? Surely you don’t mean my casino winnings?” I whisper.

He nods.

“No
way!
That is my only money.”

“Well, who told
you when and where to play to win it? I think I get some claim to it, too.
Besides, you got me into this. The least you could do is help get us both out
of it. Paying Mike is a nice start. It’s only fair.”

He’s right. Mike
and I haggle over a price, then I grudgingly hand him almost half my cash. The
rest is due when we dock, meaning I will step off this ship poorer than when I got
on it.

He strokes a
finger across my palm as he takes his cut.

“Try that again,
Mike, and see if you get any fingers back that aren’t broken.”

“Sorry, doll,” he
smiles. “Old habits are hard to break.”

He hands me back
the bracelet he just stole off my wrist.

“I don’t know if
we should have involved him,” I say to Luke, as Mike slinks away to the gallery
to set up post and I replace my jewelry.

“He’s already
involved. It can’t hurt us to have an extra set of eyes and ears out there.”

He’s right, but we
both know we can’t trust our informant too much. Mike’s loyalty only goes as
far as my cash does.

….

Luke and I decide
to return to the gallery to finish our inspection. When we arrive, we see the
tranquil gathering of art enthusiasts from before has degenerated into total
chaos. The curator is frantically trying to herd everyone away from the
Blue
,
as security huddles around a black case that was apparently found behind it.
Rose, Mike and Carl are all part of the crowd being shepherded away.

As they are
pressed closer to us, Mike whispers that the scene was already like this when
he got here. Meaning, he doesn‘t know any more about what‘s going on than we
do. The rest of the crowd looks confused also.

“Well, that was
not there before,” says Luke. “I looked every inch of that area over before you
snagged Mike.”

One of the
security men holds up the case, and Luke gasps.

“It’s a
uke
case,” he says, “exactly like the one I carry mine
instrument in.”

The guard cracks
the case open and nothing explodes or anything. I can see relief on his face,
until he opens it wider. Inside is an ornate ukulele, complete with shiny gold
leaf decoration. It would be beautiful, except the neck is broken into a shard,
away from the body of the instrument. The strings are loose and the entire
instrument is covered in a red, sticky substance that smells like rotting flesh
even from here.
Decaying blood.

The crowd steps
back in unison. Some cover their faces at the stench and leave.

“Hey look, there’s
a name plate,” says the investigator to a female investigator working beside
him. “It says Luke Taylor. Isn’t he on our crew list? See if Brewster can find
him for questioning.”

One of the crew
standing off to the side volunteers that Luke hasn’t shown up for work in a
couple days, saying he is sick. The investigators shoot knowing looks at each
other.

“Brewster!” shouts
the investigator. “Check his room immediately! Bring him straight to me when
you find him. Taylor has a lot to answer.”

I turn to Luke for
an explanation. However, he has none to give. He is already gone. I didn’t even
hear him flee. It is then that I realize I spent the night with a murderer.
And, all he has to do to silence me is to simply tell someone I’m a stowaway.
Or, kill me, like George or Mario. Either way, I won‘t go to prison for tax
evasion. I’ll be dead or go for trespassing and impersonating a passenger.
That’s much better, Maggie, I think wryly. My mother will be so proud.

…

“Good Lord! Well,
I need a stiff drink after that. Want to join me for lunch?
My
treat.”

It’s Rose. I greet
her, distracted.

“Will your
musician friend from yesterday be joining us?” she asks.

“No, I don’t think
we’re friends anymore.”

“Oh, he’s one of
those.
The scoundrel.
Well, maybe we’ll make it a
double for you, then. Heck, maybe I’ll have a double too, to sympathize!”

The main promenade
entryway is jammed full of onlookers making their mass exodus after the
excitement died down. So, Rose heads past the wall of splatters
¾
with its yellow, red, blue and green blobs of color
¾
and the rusted hubcap junk, to the exit near the
elevators.

Mike is leaning in
the doorway as we leave. He gives me a tiny nod as we pass, and slips a note
into my hand.

As I trail Rose, I
read it.

I know the
little guitar is Luke’s. Glad you’re not dead. Guess you’re the boss now. Do I
get paid extra for this?
¾
Mike

I know Mike won’t
say anything to the security team about Luke. I guess there is some kind of
honor among thieves, because if he did speak up, it would only make them look
into him. So, the only question is if I will tell anything. Right now, I don’t
know. Before Rebecca, there would be no question. Now, I’m in the same shady
grey area as Mike.

Four drinks later,
nothing is any clearer. Rose, who actually drank all of them, leaves me to
totter off home for a nap. I swirl the straw around in my water before finally deciding
sleep might do me some good too. I need to stay sharp, especially after dark
when the families fade away. But where do I go? I can’t trust Luke. He knows
what I look like and every inch of this ship. Surely his cabin is being tossed
by Brewster by now, so he won’t be returning there, either.

He would look for
me to make a beeline for the spa again, so I can’t go there for another
makeover, even if I could pay for it. No, what I need is a bodyguard.

Trouble is
,
I don’t know anyone who will fit the bill. Rose obviously
won’t do. I think I could trust her and she is spunky, but she has obvious
frailties and age against her. That and she just drank too much to be useful, anyway.
I can’t ask her.

It’s got to be
Mike. Luke could snap him like a twig, let alone someone like Brewster, but
Mike is like a little yappy dog. He could at least sound the alarm quick enough
that I might be able to run away. I’d feel less bad if he got hurt, and I’ve
paid for his time anyway. I guess he’ll have to do.

I find him still
loitering in the doorway, staring at
Blue
. He is alone.

“Real
subtle, Mike.
Way to blend in.”

“You’re back!
Listen, we need to discuss the new arrangements…”

“
There’s even newer arrangements
, so pay attention. Your new
assignment is to watch me until the end of the cruise. Where I go, you go.
Keep an eye
out for Luke or anyone else looking suspicious.
Do not leave my side!”

“Got
it.
Um, what about when you go to the bathroom? You know, that could be
kind of awkward.”

“Fine, you can
stand outside the bathroom. But other than that, you are glued to me.”

“You know, I
charge extra for such personalized services.”

“Then I’ll be sure
to file a report with the security team about your pick pocketing. Don’t think
I can’t make it stick. Also, I took a picture of you and that woman in the
gallery earlier. It’s very incriminating, but I can make it disappear, Mike.”

It’s all a big,
fat bluff, but he takes the bait. I have just hooked the world’s scrawniest
bodyguard.

“What do I do
first?” he asks.

My first task is a
new outfit. At least, it will be harder for Luke to recognize me if I’m not
wearing the clothes he provided. Since he promised away almost all my casino
money to Mike, I’m broke again. I’ve got to think fast.

“Mike, I’ve got to
pee. Let’s go.”

“Already?”
He grumbles about unfair work conditions, but follows anyway. I head past the
main public restrooms to the gym. He gives me a questioning look, but I ignore
him and keep walking.

When I get inside,
I deposit Mike by the ladies’ locker room entrance and step in. Sure enough,
there are a couple public showers. Both are in use. Outside of one, the chair
has crisply folded street clothes that are about my size carefully laid out on
it. A fluffy towel is slung over the back. The clothes look ready for their owner
to step from the shower and slip them on. I notice I’m extra lucky today. There
is also a pair of sneakers reasonably close to my size sitting on the floor
underneath the clothes.

Time is ticking.
Either woman could finish rinsing off any minute or someone could walk in, and
I will be caught. So, I change as fast and quietly as I can, and toss Charlie’s
clothes in a pile on the chair where the neatly folded ones had been. I feel
bad about taking some stranger’s things. However, I am leaving her my outfit,
so I’m going to call it a trade. She just got the losing end of the deal.

The shoes pinch as
I speed walk away, but they are still better to move in than my flip flops.
Especially, if I’ll be doing any running tonight.

I breeze by Mike,
who is waiting, sitting on the floor by the women’s locker room exit. A front
desk attendant keeps glancing at him as she folds clean towels, like she is
wondering what he is up to. I take his elbow and quickly escort him out of the
gym before speaking.

“Next task, Mike,
is to keep an eye out while I get some sleep. And, don’t steal anything. You
do, and it comes out of your wages.”

Not that I have
anything good for him to steal that isn’t already his, besides a worthless cell
phone. But, I can’t have him getting at the cash now, or he’ll vanish. Just in
case, I stuff everything in my front jeans pocket as we walk outside. I figure
I’ll be relatively safe sleeping on my stomach in a deck chair, so I choose one
in a thoroughly shady section just off the main pool. Someplace public is good,
but I learned my lesson from yesterday. No sense inflaming my tender face
again.

Tonight I’ll need
to be alert, since I figure darkness will bring with it increased risk. So, I’m
betting that resting now is safest for me. But, I really don’t know. I wish I’d
watched more of those fugitive shows with Rebecca.

Mike looks uneasy
to be smack in the middle of so many people. I guess he’s more used to lurking
around their fringes. Not that he’s really had any other facial expression
during the short time I’ve known him, but I still feel like I should say
something. It’s the least I can do, since I’m making him be here against his
will and all.

“Relax, Mike. I’m
the one with a murderer after me, remember? You’re fine. You would just be
collateral damage, at most.”

He looks slightly
relieved to not matter.

“Um, so I just sit
here and watch you sleep? That’s it?”

Someone left the
sports section of a newspaper next to my chair, so I hand it to him.

“Yes, but pretend
to read this. It will look creepy if you just sit staring at me like you did
that painting.”

He starts to look
like this might not be a bad gig. After all, he just has to sit and read the
paper.

….

My sleep is
tortured. The entire time, I’m dreaming of broken ukulele necks being hurled at
me like knives. Or, I’m running from giant lime green trucker caps. Finally, I
wake, breathing hard. I’ve tossed and turned, and now am lying on my back.

I jerk upright and
look over at Mike, who is snoring next to me. Not exactly great body guarding skills,
but I forgive him anyway. It’s not like anyone is going to attack me in the middle
of this crowd. I may need him alert later, so I decide to leave him alone.

But, what woke me
up? I turn my head to the other side, and come face-to-face with a furry beast.
Major. He moves toward me and huffs hot
breath
on my
arm. I see Teresa running toward me, dragging Carl behind.

“Major! I am so
sorry, Miss!” she says, snagging the monkey. “Oh, it’s you, again. I don‘t know
what his problem is. Carl, I knew we shouldn’t have let him out. You know he’s
not usually so friendly with strangers. Next time you insist
,
I’m putting my foot down!”

Aren’t service
animals trained to be friendly in public? And behave? Maybe Carl got a discount
on Major.

“That’s alright,”
I say to the distressed woman.

Behind her, I hear
a brittle cracking noise, and we both turn to find Carl trying to fix his cane.
The fancy gold handle has slipped from the shaft.

“Careful, Carl,”
says Teresa. “That handle can be awfully sharp. Remember, you cut yourself with
it yesterday. Here, let me.”

She takes the cane
from Carl, and jiggles the handle back into place.