The Pandora Box (8 page)

“What can I do for you?” the woman asked as the gentleman left.

“I’m here to pay a bill,” Dee replied. “Quite a big one, I understand. For the
Pandora
, in slip number forty-three?”

“
Pandora
? That’s Hawk’s boat. There’s no money owing on that one. As a matter of fact…” she flipped through a desk file a few feet away. “He’s paid up for next year, too.”

“That’s funny. Yesterday, he told me the dock fees hadn’t been paid for two years and next month it was going up for auction.”

“Well,” the woman hesitated as if she had to decide whether or not to confide in Dee. “Formally”—and she drew the word out long, as if what was going to follow was a good piece of gossip—”it is going up for auction next month. But he’s got an in with the Harbor Master and the whole thing’s already decided. Know what I mean?”

“I’m beginning to. You wouldn’t happen to know where Hawk is right now, would you? He wasn’t on the boat.”

“Oh, if I was going to guess, I’d say he’s probably over at the
Seahorse Lounge
.”

“Next to the restaurant?”

“That’s the one. His party came in about an hour ago with the biggest catch of the day. Thirty-seven and a half pounds. If nobody brings in anything bigger before midnight, you can chalk up another twenty-five bucks for
Starr’s Charters
.”

“He works for
Starr’s Charters
?”

“They’re partners.”

“I thought he worked here at the port. On boats or something.”

“Only when you can talk him into it. My computer’s been down for three days and can I get him over here? But,” she sighed wistfully, “if I had the kind of money he does, I’d only work whenever I felt like it, too.”

“I should probably head over and talk to him, then. How late will you be open?”

“Oh, I’ll be out of here by five, but we open at eight every morning. Thinking about buying
Pandora
?”

“Something like that.”

“Hawk must want to sell pretty bad. You’re the second person to ask me about it this week.” She laughed and shook her head. “That boat’s changed hands more times than a fickle woman! People always show up out of nowhere, put a bunch of money into her, then get scared and take off. Been watching it happen for years.”

“Sounds like you know something nobody else does,” Dee prompted.

“I do indeed.” She smiled and pointed a bright nail-polished finger toward one of the bay windows. “Been working here fifteen years, and know all there is to know about every boat in this harbor.”

“Mind sharing what you know about
Pandora
?”

“Not a bit. Like I say to everybody. Don’t tell me any secrets because I never keep them. And the secret on that boat is”—she leaned her forearms on the smooth wooden counter and looked Dee straight in the eye—”there’s a curse on it.”

9

Small Craft Warning

“Can you start around the world day after tomorrow?”

“I can start this minute,” I answered, quickly trying to stop the rapid beating of my heart. ~ Nellie Bly

The
Seahorse Lounge
was fairly quiet. There were a few obvious “regulars” seated at the bar, a man with a table to himself in one corner and a noisy party of eight beneath the windows that looked out onto the water. The dance floor and stage were empty, but a glimpse of the current band’s poster on the wall told Dee the place was of the honky-tonk variety.

Wayne Hawkins was sitting with his back to her at a crowded table with a woman next to him.

Starr gave her a friendly wave.

There were several tanned beauties among the group, as well as a few fishermen.

“Pull up a chair, Dee,” Starr boomed. “We just ordered the best steaks in the house.”

“Well, that’s awfully nice of you.” Dee smiled her most enchanting smile as she came up behind Hawkins. “Actually...” She laid a deceptively friendly hand on Hawk’s shoulder, but pressed it with much the same firmness as a teacher who had caught one of her pupils cheating on a test. “I was hoping I could steal Hawk here away for a few moments?”

Hawk reached for her hand with an equally firm grip as he stood. He tossed three quarters on the table, without letting go of Dee’s hand. “Pick out something good on the juke box honey, and I’ll be back before it’s over.”

“Is there someplace we could talk?” Dee snatched her hand away as they walked off.

“Sure. How ‘bout my office?”

“Fine. Where is it?”

He pointed to a table in one of the darkened corners of the room.

“That’s not —” Dee protested.

“We can talk here.” He waved at the bartender as they sat down. “What happened?” He eyed her hat and the sunglasses hooked over the first closed button of the yellow dress. “You look like you came straight from work yesterday. I didn’t expect you back before Thursday.”

“Well, for one thing…”

A cocktail waitress came to the table with a glass of beer and set it on a napkin in front of him. “Thanks, Terry.” He smiled at the young woman.

He had a charming smile, if one were to look at him that way. There was a sparkle, the kind that made people smile back without realizing it.

“Anything else?”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Dee answered crisply. “I’m fine.”

“I think Dee Parker looks like…” He scrutinized her. He must have had several drinks already. “The strawberry daiquiri type,” he finally pronounced.

“I am not here on a social call, Hawkins,” she spoke quietly, “And I don’t drink.”

“I don’t like to drink alone.”

“Obviously. Why did you pay the outstanding bill on
Pandora
?”

“Because I always pay my bills.”

“But
Pandora
is mine. And I want everything done right and legal before we leave. Since you had an in with the harbor-master and are already registered as the current owner, I’m going to need your signature before they’ll change it down at the DMV. Honestly, is there anyone in this town that doesn’t know who you are?”

“Small towns are like that.”

“Then you’ll come with me to get it straightened out?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you agreed to cooperate. Something like this could hold us up for days.” She ran a thumb over a smooth edge of the wooden table. “Do you want to get going, or don’t you?”

“What happened, Dee? Yesterday, you could barely agree to leave in a week and now you’re acting like you want to untie and take off tonight.”

“Could we?”

His air of playfulness vanished and he suddenly looked deadly serious. “You told somebody.”

“Not exactly. It’s just that…”

The girl returned with a strawberry daiquiris and Dee smiled at her. “Could I return this for one that’s heavy on the strawberries and no on the daiquiri?” Not that she was so inclined to order anything at all in a place like this. It’s just that she had to do something to avoid that penetrating gaze as Hawk paid for the drink. He didn’t take his eyes off her.

“Go on,” he prompted when they were alone again.

“I just have a bad feeling about it, that’s all. And I would just as soon―”

“Listen, sweetheart...”

“Don’t call me that.”

“No games. Understand? This is a dangerous enough venture we’re in all by itself. So if you gave someone—anyone—the least little inkling something was up, you better tell me. People do crazy things for this kind of money. Secrecy, you got it? Secrecy is our best ally, sugar. Now, what happened?”

“When I got home, someone had gone through my apartment.”

“Sure it wasn’t just a routine burglary?”

“They only took one thing.” The waitress returned and set down a glass of blended strawberries. Dee thanked her and then took a sip. “A chart of the Russian coast Nels marked for me,” she finally admitted.

Hawk muttered under his breath and got to his feet. He walked a few paces away and then back, giving her the distinct impression he was about to lose his temper. But he didn’t. Instead, he sat down and leveled his gaze on her. “You have a passport?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

“The papers on
Pandora
?”

She nodded.

“Let me see them.”

Dee reached into her canvas bag and handed them over. Better to confront things between them here and now instead of run into problems later on. Especially if he might contest the validity and force her into doing anything legal, just to prove it.

“Looks official enough,” he pronounced after a moment.

“They’re official. Signed by Nelson Peterson.” She reached across to tap an insistent finger on the old man’s signature. “Notarized and everything down there on the bottom, see?”

“I see.”

“Here come the steaks, Hawk,” some woman called across the room.

“Be right there, doll.” He got to his feet and handed her the papers. “I’m going to finish eating with these folks so nothing will look hasty. But I want you to go ahead and—where’s your car?”

“In the parking lot.”

“You can’t leave it there until we get back. Anybody could trace it.”

“You mean the police?”

“I mean anybody. Let me have the keys, and I’ll park it in Starr’s garage.”

Dee hesitated.

“Listen, sugar, if you’re having second thoughts, you better quit right now.”

“Don’t”—she reached for her keys—”call me sugar!” She handed them over.

“Just settle in on
Pandora
and get some rest,” he offered with a congenial smile. “You look like you need it. Take any cabin you want.”

“Maybe I’ll take the captain’s quarters,” she snapped, “as long as you’re feeling so generous.” She expected a complaint, knowing he had already claimed the luxurious main cabin at the back of the yacht as his own.

Instead, he flashed another one of his winning smiles. “Nicest offer I’ve had all day.”

****

Back on
Pandora
, Marion had already moved into the forward cabin. “I hope you don’t mind,”—she called when she heard Dee come in—”but this one has a little desk that’s perfect for my laptop.”

“I don’t mind. Remember what the book said though.” They had been drilling each other from the new seamanship book on the long drive down. “Forward cabins tend to toss more when under way.”

“I don’t get seasick,” she replied. “Besides, those cabins in the back are already taken. So I put your things in that one on the right, just across from the bathroom. That’s the cutest little bathroom. It even has a shower!”

“All the comforts of home.”

“Speaking of home, where is everybody?”

Dee stretched out on the wide, comfortable bunk and leaned back on the pillow. “They’re over at the local bar getting totally smashed. After which we are going to”—she fished for the right phrase—”set sail.”

“What?” Marion stopped laying her papers out on the desk and gave Dee an astonished stare. “It’s getting dark outside. And remember the two red flags we saw hoisted up on the pole when we drove in? Small craft warning. Some kind of a—storm at sea!”

“Well, we better mention that when they get here because I don’t think they’ll notice. I’m bushed. I think I’ll change into some jeans and try to catch a nap before all the festivities start.”

“I thought you said Friday was the big day.” Marion snatched a few tissues from the top of a built-in dresser and swathed cold cream off her face. “I was thinking we were done for the night. But I better get decent again and run out for some Dramamine.”

“He took the car.”

“Oh, gads. Well, I’ll try that little bait shop if they’re still open.”

“I thought you didn’t get seasick.”

“Not since they invented Dramamine, I don’t.”

Though nearly twenty years older, Marion was the most spur-of-the-moment, enthusiastic, anything-for-fun person she knew. They had met three years ago, when Dee took over Marion’s cooking column at the
Columbia Herald
, so that she could retire to work on her novel. And even though they came from opposite ends of life’s spectrum (Marion was a widow with two grown children, while Dee had never married), they were kindred spirits.

“Well, don’t be too long, Mare,” she warned. “I wouldn’t put it past these guys to take off without us. Or maybe even dump us somewhere.”

“Dump us!” Marion gasped.

“Figure of speech. I mean, try to get us to quit or get off in some local port before we ever really get started.”

“But you said they seemed decent! Now you’re talking like they’re pirates right out of the movies!”

“Maybe the only people who go after treasures are pirates of some kind.”

“And just what does that make us?”

Dee pulled the clip out of her hair so she could rest more comfortably against the pillow. “I think if we were any better, we would have called the police this afternoon.”

“We haven’t
not
called them,” Marion reasoned. “We’re still deciding. It hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet.”

“A lot can happen in twenty-four hours, Mare.”

10

Down to the Sea

“Never having taken a sea voyage before, I could expect nothing else than a lively tussle with the disease of the wave.” ~ Nellie Bly

By the time their partners returned, it was nearing two o’clock in the morning.

Dee came awake suddenly to the sound of voices and the thump and crunch of things being tossed rapidly into the cockpit. She fumbled in the dark for shoes and made her way up on deck, still trying to blink sleep from her eyes.

The whole world had changed. The wind hit with an eerily steady strength as she climbed out of the hatchway, and there was constant flapping and clanging of rigging from boats all over the harbor.

She zipped her lavender windbreaker snugly up under her chin, but it had no hood to keep her loose hair from whipping around her face.

“Hey, cutie, did we wake you up?” Hawk handed her a box and reached for another as if she had come up to help.

“Will you quit with the Casanova stuff?” Dee fell into the rhythm of passing and stacking the supplies as he handed them up over the rail.