Final Ride

by Nic Saint

  An enormous explosion ripped a piece of bow from the British schooner while an equally loud explosion did the same to the pirate ship. And then both ships were sinking, going down with all hands!

  “Um… Is this supposed to happen, Benny?” asked Franklin.

  “No way. I guess they added something new!”

  There were cries of panic, as the crews of both ships jumped overboard, into the water of the lagoon, and as the spectators watched, both ships went down, keeling over and sinking beneath the now murky waters of the Scarlet Lagoon. People were swimming for their lives, both Britishers and pirates, and in a show of unexpected solidarity, they were actually helping each other to reach the shore! Instead of fighting tooth and claw, they were reaching the small harbor together, giving each other boosts to get out of the water.

  “Oh, man!” Benny cried. “This is so lame!”

  “Political correctness,” Martin said knowingly. “It’s the curse of the age.”

  “That’s it, you guys,” said Benny. He’d hoped for a lot of blood and guts, severed heads and body parts flying all over the place. Instead these idiots exchanged blows for five minutes, then crawled ashore to buy each other drinks in the saloon! He made a throwaway gesture. “Let’s get out of here.”

  And as they were scrambling from their seats, he saw that the fire department came roaring up, sirens blaring. The actual fire department, not their seventeenth-century counterparts! They started fishing people out of the lagoon.

  “Look,” he said, gesturing to the firefighters. “They’re not even trying!”

  “Um. I think those are actual firemen, Benny,” said Franklin.

  “That’s what I mean! Did they even have firemen in Port Charles? I don’t think so!” He put his hands to his mouth and yelled, “Boo! Bunch of lame-os!”

  “I think something’s wrong,” said Franklin.

  “I know, right? This Charleneland is a joke. Come on. Let’s split.”

  It was a good thing they did split when they did, for mere moments after they had left the stands, there was a third loud bang, taking out one of the support beams holding up the structure. It collapsed with a horrible creaking sound. When the dust settled, Benny, Franklin and Martin looked back at where they’d been seated and gulped. They’d just had a very narrow escape!

  Chapter 28

  I was picking my way along the wreckage of what had been the Port Charles stands. Not much was left. And as I gazed out at the flattened rows of seats, it struck me that it was almost a miracle no one was killed when this thing went down.

  The rest of my family were also there, Dad coordinating with the fire department to evacuate the area and attend to the visitors who’d been caught in the disaster. A makeshift first-aid post had been established, and so far the casualties reported nothing more than scrapes and bruises.

  Still, this was a disaster in more ways than one. As a consequence, we’d decided to close down the park, even before Fabrice Lynsey ordered us to. We couldn’t risk any more casualties in what was evidently a coordinated attack.

  “Two explosions struck holes in the Red Sparrow and the HMS Scarborough,” said Dad when I joined him and the others. “They sank like stones.” He gestured at the rubble all around us. “A third explosion took down the support beams and girders, effectively collapsing the structure.”

  “Who would do such a thing?” Charlene asked. Her hand touched her face and it was obvious she was deeply impressed by what had happened here.

  “Probably the same person or persons that targeted the Body Wrench,” said Dad. “And possibly the shooting at the Rusty Spur.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” said Mom. “We don’t know if these incidents are connected. As far as I can tell they’re very different. The Body Wrench and what happened here? Yes. The shooting of Steve? That seems unrelated.” She turned to me. “Have you and Blane found out something?”

  “We’re still looking into it,” I said. When Dylan called me with the bad news, Blane and I had been on our way to see Steve’s former teacher. That would have to wait.

  “What’s going to happen now?” asked Blane.

  Dad shrugged. “Now it’s in the hands of the inspection—and the police, obviously.”

  I wondered for a moment if I should tell the others about what Blane and I had seen in Sapsucker, but since I never held any secrets to my family, I decided to go ahead. “Just before we came here, we saw Leo,” I began. “He was having lunch with Phoenix.”

  Charlene uttered a startled cry. “Leo was having lunch with Phoenix?”

  “The one and only.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Dad muttered, visibly shaken.

  “Who’s Phoenix?” asked Dylan.

  “She runs PhoenixWorld,” I explained.

  “Oh. Of course. She used to be a singer, right?”

  “Not really,” Charlene said, pursing her lips. “What?” she asked when Mom uttered a sigh. “Anaïs was never much of a singer. She has one of those weak voices. And she can’t carry a tune. The only reason she was ever successful is because she didn’t mind flaunting her other assets.” She shook her own sizable bust to indicate which assets she was referring to.

  Dylan grinned. “I see what you mean, Charlene. Sex appeal, huh?”

  Charlene shrugged. “I never saw the appeal, but that’s just me, of course.”

  “What was Leo doing with Phoenix?” asked Marisa.

  “It looked like they were in a meeting,” I said.

  Mom and Dad shared a look of concern, and then Maya voiced the question we were all asking ourselves. “Could he be the saboteur?”

  “Impossible,” said Charlene. “Leo would never do anything to hurt Charleneland. He’s been with us since the beginning!”

  “I don’t know, Mom,” said my mother. “It’s a big coincidence that the park would be under attack just after he quit. I think we should tell the inspectors.”

  “Yes. They should definitely look into this,” Dad agreed.

  “But Leo!” Maya said. “He’s almost like family!”

  “He could have set those explosive charges last night,” I said. “Between two and three, when all the cameras went dark. He could have sabotaged the Body Wrench, and placed the charges here at Pirate Lair.”

  “He knew how to get into the system,” Dad agreed. “How to turn off the security cameras. And he knew where to put the charges so they would cause maximum damage.”

  We were all quiet for a moment while we thought about Leo. About what he’d done.

  “Dammit,” Charlene finally said. “I should have dated that idiot.”

  “Oh, Mom,” said my mother.

  “No, I mean it. This is all payback because I refused to date him, isn’t it? I knew he liked me all these years but was afraid to ask me out. I should have gone ahead and asked him out. None of this would have happened if I had.”

  “You don’t know that,” I said. “We don’t know what his motives were.”

  “We don’t even know if Leo is responsible,” Dad said. Then he frowned. “Though it looks pretty bad.”

  Yes, it did. Leo meeting with Phoenix? That was like Nixon meeting the Watergate burglars to discuss the break-in. Pretty damning for our old friend.

  “Oh, Christ. Here comes the cavalry,” Charlene muttered.

  I looked up and saw that Fabrice Lynsey and his two fellow inspectors were making their way over to us. They looked pretty determined.

  “I’m closing you down!” Lynsey shouted even before he’d joined us. “You’re done! I don’t care what the governor says! You’re all done!”

  And so we were.

  Chapter 29

  It wasn’t a fun time to be a Rugg. More inspectors had arrived and were going through the park with a fine-tooth comb. They’d summoned me, Dad and Dylan to assist them, and had sent most of the staff and workers home. Charleneland would be closed for at least a week, and possibly longer. Dylan, who had the unenviable task of picking up th
e pieces now that Leo was gone, had been working tirelessly to make the inspectors familiar with our security team and safety measures, while my entire staff remained at their disposal.

  I’d been in a meeting with Dad, Dylan, Blane and the team of inspectors, and when I finally arrived back at the house, I was completely bushed.

  So far, it looked like Leo was the most likely culprit. When I’d tried to call him, he hadn’t picked up, and when Charlene had attempted the same, her call had gone straight to voicemail. The first time that had ever happened. It had possibly shocked her even more than the wrecking of Charleneland. No one ignored Charlene’s phone calls. No one.

  We were at the house, and after a dinner consumed in an atmosphere of gloom, Charlene had retreated upstairs, a bottle of Bollinger in her left and a tub of Häagen-Dazs in her right hand.

  “That’s not healthy!” Maya called out after her.

  “I don’t care!” our feisty grandmother hollered back.

  We all retreated to our respective bedrooms, while Mom went in search of Dad, who still hadn’t arrived home, even though it was after midnight. She was worried, and so were we. Dad had recently gone through triple bypass heart surgery. He didn’t need this aggravation. Then again, none of us did.

  I plunked down on my bed, thinking about all that had happened. This truly had been a hellish day. I’d asked Blane to stay for dinner, but he’d graciously declined. He said he wanted to have another crack at Scott Davies, our resident Lawnmower King, who was still in custody. Try and figure out who else might have had a motive to kill Steve Geyser.

  As I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, my weary bones pressing down on the bed, one thought stood out amongst the welter: was this the end of Charleneland? The end of the Ruggs? Should I start typing up my resume?

  A knock on the door brought me out of my moody reverie. Without waiting for a response, Maya came walking through the door.

  “Hey, honey. Whatcha doing?”

  She threw herself down on my bed, making me bounce up and down.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just thinking about what a terrible day this has been.”

  “Oh, don’t be a gloomy goose,” she said, picking my smartphone from the nightstand and checking my messages.

  ”Hey. That’s my phone,” I said, making a grab for it.

  She held it out of my reach. “We’re sisters. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

  I groaned and gave up. She was right, though probably not the way she thought. I didn’t have any secrets. My life was too boring to have any.

  ”Do you really think Leo is behind this whole mess?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Who cares? If he was, they’ll catch him and lock him up. This is terrorism, right? Setting off bombs and stuff?”

  ”I don’t think so. If it was, the FBI would be here, and Homeland Security. So far this looks like an extreme case of industrial sabotage. One theme park owner trying to destroy a competing theme park owner.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said. “I mean, come on. Phoenix sabotaging Charleneland? That’s nuts! The woman may be eccentric, but she’s no killer.”

  She had a point. Phoenix and Charlene’s rivalry dated back to the sixties, when they’d both vied for the attention of the public with their similar brand of music and stage presence. Now, both running successful theme parks, they were still at daggers drawn. If they kept this up, they’d probably have competing funerals once their time on this mortal coil came to an end.

  ”I think we should keep a little perspective,” said Maya. ”This whole thing is bad, you’re right about that, but it’s going to be resolved at some point, and then it’s back to business as usual.” She held up her finger when I tried to interrupt her. “The thing that interests me more is: what’s going on between Marisa and this Kevin Woods guy? That’s what I would like to know.”

  I smiled in spite of myself. ”He looks like a great guy, actually. Though he has a weird habit of trying to surprise Marisa.”

  “What’s so weird about that? Channing Tatum made a career out of it.”

  “He’s even more handsome than Channing. In a slightly nerdy way.”

  ”Yeah, if Channing Tatum would be an accountant and wear glasses, he’d be just like Kevin.”

  ”Who would be just like Kevin?” asked Marisa, striding into my room without taking her eyes off her phone.

  ”Channing Tatum,” said Maya, without taking her eyes off my phone.

  Marisa frowned. “I don’t see the resemblance.”

  “Well, I do, and you can take that as a compliment,” said Maya.

  Now she did look up, though judging from the confused look on her face she was still not seeing the resemblance between Channing and her boyfriend.

  ”So how serious are you guys?” asked Maya.

  Marisa shrugged. “It’s been a month. We just celebrated our birthday.”

  Maya uttered a startled cry. “A month! And you didn’t tell us!”

  ”Why should I tell you anything? This is my private business.”

  “We’re sisters! We don’t have private business.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “I think you guys look really cute together,” I said. “So congrats, sis.”

  “Thanks,” said Marisa. “Though I don’t know how much longer we’ll be together.”

  Maya sat up. “You’re ditching him? Can I have him?”

  Marisa fixed her with a serious look. “He’s not a toy, Maya.”

  “I know. He’s better than a toy. He’s a toy boy. And I want in.”

  “Well, you can’t. He’s mine,” said Marisa, suddenly possessive. “Besides, you’re too young for a toy boy. They only become toy boys when they’re considerably younger than you, and Kevin is older than you.”

  “So? I can be his toy girl.”

  “There’s no such thing as a toy girl.”

  “Well, there is now,” said Maya, bouncing off the bed.

  Just then, there was a loud scream upstairs, and we all raced into the hallway, expecting the worst. What we saw was Kevin Woods, in the nude, stumbling down the stairs.

  “Kevin!” Marisa cried. “What the hell?”

  “You said you lived on the second floor!” he protested, pressing his glasses on his face and covering his private parts, which were, once again, exposed.

  Charlene appeared at the top of the stairs. “Hey, young man! I spoke too soon. You can come back up now!” To us, she added, “I just found him hiding in my bedroom closet.”

  “Kevin!” Marisa hissed, and quickly ushered him into her room. Then she added, “You can’t have him, Charlene. He’s mine!” And slammed the door.

  Charlene shook her head. “I’m losing my touch. First Leo, now this one? I never let them slip through my fingers before.” And then she slammed her door.

  Maya and I both burst into laughter until our cheeks were wet with tears.

  Oh, God. It felt good to have a laugh after the kind of day we’d just had.

  Chapter 30

  Early the next morning, Blane and I were parked across the street from twenty-six Beaumont Boulevard, which turned out to be a popular bakery.

  “Do you think she lied to us?” I asked.

  “Let’s find out, shall we?” asked Blane, and stepped out of the vehicle.

  I’d slept fitfully, and judging from the dark streaks under Blane’s eyes, he hadn’t slept at all. While we were dealing with Marisa’s streaker boyfriend, the stalwart cop had interviewed Scott Davies again, but hadn’t learned a lot.

  The teenagers hadn’t been friends as much as business partners, which explained the lack of sorrow when learning about Steve’s fate. Sapsucker PD’s resident cyber specialist had looked into the site the two kids had set up and was in the process of shutting it down. Not that it mattered. With Steve gone, there was no one to supply the merchandise. Now all we needed to discover was who Steve’s contact inside Charleneland’s sales dep
artment was.

  Scott claimed he didn’t know. That Steve had kept that information to himself, scared as he was that Scott would go into business for himself.

  I crossed the street. At eight o’clock in the morning it was pretty quiet out. Even though we were in the heart of Sapsucker, and only one street removed from Main Street, there were few passersby. The bakery had seen a steady stream of customers since we’d arrived twenty minutes before, though.

  We walked in, the bell over the door jangling merrily. A kind-faced woman was behind the counter and greeted us with a friendly smile.

  In response, Blane held up his badge. “We’re looking for David Foster. His wife told us he lives here?”

  The woman’s smile vanished. “David is my brother. What’s this about?”

  “We just want to talk to him,” I said. “In connection to the death of one of his students.”

  She nodded. “Steve Geyser. We watched the news together last night. He was shocked at what happened.”

  “So where can we find your brother?” Blane insisted.

  She gestured to the door behind her. “Just walk through to the back.”

  We squeezed behind the counter, which was filled with all manner of scrumptious-looking pastry, and found ourselves entering a squeaky clean bakery, where a large man was peering into an oven. Judging from the delicious scent wafting through the bakery, fresh bread was on its way.

  “If I owned a place like this I’d probably double in size,” I told Blane.

  “Me, too. I’d sample my own wares until I was bursting at the seams.”

  When the man realized he was no longer alone, Blane once again took out his badge. It was almost like a magic ticket, I thought. Or an all-access pass.

  “David Foster?” asked Blane.

  “Next room,” said the guy, gesturing with his head.

  We walked through to the second part of the kitchen, where a man with a combover and thick-rimmed glasses was scrubbing pots in a deep stainless steel sink. When he saw us, a look of resignation came over him.