Undercover Cruise (A Maggie McFarlin Mystery Book 2)

by Charisse Peeler

  David turned his head to Maggie. “That’s an easy one, ‘Candle in the Wind.’ ”

  “Easy for you,” she said. “You know a lot about music.”

  “It’s my passion. You can ask me anything—rock and roll, techno, country, opera, you name it, I love it. Music makes sense. It’s universal.”

  “Did you ever play in a band?”

  “The Fyre Festival,” he said to Maggie. She looked confused.

  “The answer to the trivia question is the Fyre Festival.” He said it a little too loudly, giving the group of passengers sitting at the closest table the answer. They smiled and wrote it down. Other people looked over at him suspiciously.

  “We should go,” Maggie said, pulling at David’s arm.

  He smiled. “Probably.”

  As they moved down the corridor, they observed some activity ahead.

  “Hey.” David pointed. “The art auction is going on, let’s go.” He reached out and grabbed Maggie’s hand then led her into another crowed space.

  “This ought to be fun.”

  “Oh, God, I can’t.”

  Maggie pulled back as they drew closer to the crowd, which was packed in like sardines.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot.” David smiled and looked around. He pointed to the bulkhead. “Stand here for a second.” Maggie moved back a few steps and leaned against the cold surface. She watched the people walk by until David reappeared a few minutes later.

  He motioned to her and called, “Follow me.”

  He pulled her to the right of the crowd, where there was a clear path around the group. They made their way behind several tables with large flat boxes on top. They walked a bit farther until they were standing directly behind two six-foot-long tables covered by black tablecloths. A server dressed in a tux shirt and black vest poured champagne into flutes lined up at the front of the table. The server looked confused seeing Maggie standing behind the long table, but if he was bothered by it at all, he didn’t let it show. He just smiled and continued to pour champagne into the glasses.

  Several similarly dressed servers roved through the crowd carrying trays of appetizers. David stood between the two tables, and as one of the servers passed him, he picked up a miniature quiche and a cucumber sandwich. He offered one to Maggie, but she simply shook her head.

  Maggie relaxed, standing behind her barrier of tables and even helping herself to a glass of champagne. She watched small paddles stamped with numbers rise above the crowd as the auctioneer acknowledged the bidders. The auctioneer didn’t speak fast, as she had imagined, but was still a little hard to understand because of his accent.

  “Would you like some?” A server coming from a back area held out a small pitcher of what looked like orange juice. “For a mimosa?” he asked.

  “Yes, please.” Maggie smiled, hearing Britney’s voice in her head: “The only cure for cheap champagne is orange juice.”

  She tasted the beverage. “Oh, this is good,” she said to the man, now filling half of the glasses in front of her.

  “It’s mango orange,” the server said, smiling. David picked up a glass of the sparkly orange drink and stood next to Maggie.

  David held his drink toward the crowd. “What do you think?”

  “I always wondered why people bought art on a cruise ship and how they get it home.” Maggie said.

  “There are novice collectors who look forward to this event; the cruise line ships it for free.”

  Maggie nodded. She pointed to a small painting of Van Gogh’s Starry Night that was on display. It was the next painting to go on auction. “That’s a cool one.”

  “Also one of my favorites,” David said. He turned to Maggie. “Just stay here, I’ll be right back.” He set his drink on the table and disappeared into the crowd.

  Okay, Maggie said to herself. She finished her drink, replacing the empty glass with a full one.

  “This is a convenient place to stand.”

  Silas’ hot breath hit Maggie’s ear, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to rise.

  Maggie turned to Silas “What are you doing here?”.

  “Just wrapping things up,” Silas said.

  “At an art auction?”

  “Hopefully.” He smiled a big toothy smile as he put his hand on Maggie’s hip, causing her further discomfort.

  “One hundred dollars, two hundred dollars, do I hear three hundred dollars?” The auction had started back up, but Maggie was distracted by Silas.

  “Can you stick around for a few minutes after this is over?” Silas’ face had turned sober. “I have a favor to ask,”

  “I don’t know, I—” Maggie turned when David tapped her on the shoulder.

  “I got it,” he said proudly, holding out an envelope out to Maggie.

  “What’s this?”

  “Starry Night,” he smiled. “For you.”

  Maggie opened the envelope. Inside was a certificate. “All you have to do is give them your address, and they’ll ship it.” He pointed to a woman sitting behind a desk.

  The last shout of “Sold!” hung in the air as the quiet patrons in the crowd all began talking at the same time. Shortly afterwards, most of the passengers had moved along to other parts of the ship.

  “Thank you for the picture, David, but it seems like these sorts of replicas are available almost anywhere. Why makes it so special to be in an auction?”

  “It’s an F-A, forgery art.”

  “What?” Maggie tilted her head in confusion.

  “It’s legal,” David said, “it’s a thing. Legal forgery. There are actual forgery artists who are more renowned than the artists who actually painted the originals. Somehow it created a whole new market in art. If you think about it, it’s pure genius.”

  “So interesting…I’m excited to have my first real fake-not fake piece of art,” Maggie said. “Thank You.”

  “You are welcome.” He smiled. “I used my bingo winnings.”

  “You spent five hundred dollars on a painting that is an actual forgery?”

  “It was four hundred and twenty dollars; it would have been less, but I was bidding against a stubborn old lady. I’m still up a couple of bucks.” David looked at his watch. “I need to get back to the room, do you want me to wait for you?”

  Maggie looked at the line of people at the sales desk.

  “No, you go back to the room. I’ll wait here until the line dies down.” Maggie picked up another mimosa. “I’ll be fine.”

  David smiled and started to walk away.

  “Thanks again, David,” Maggie said. “That was such a nice thing to do.”

  David again told her she was welcome. Then he said, “See you later.” He left with a slight wave.

  Maggie saw Silas now standing on the other side of the now almost empty room. She stood enjoying her drink as the line dwindled until there was only one person left in the queue before she stood in front of the desk.

  When it was her turn, Maggie handed the woman the envelope David gave her.

  “How is your day going?” the woman asked as she wrote down the information on the card into a journal on the desk.

  “It’s been a pretty good day so far,” Maggie said.

  “Starry Night,” the woman said as she handed the certificate back to Maggie. “I love this one.”

  “Me too,” Maggie said.

  “What address would you like the painting delivered to?”

  Maggie started reciting her address at Banyan Tree Country Club. But a loud crash from behind her caused her to jump. The table where Maggie had stood earlier had flipped onto its side. What was left of the glass champagne flutes lay in a shattered mess on the floor.

  Silas reached behind Maggie. He pulled the journal from the desk and whispered in Maggie’s ear: “Meet me at the wine bar.” Maggie turned fast enough to see Silas disappear around the corner.

  She stood for a moment, confused. The woman, who had also been distracted by the commotion, turned her attention back to the d
esk. She fumbled through the stacks of paperwork, apparently looking for the journal where she had been recording addresses.

  “Did you see that book I was writing in?” she asked Maggie.

  Maggie shook her head. She avoided the woman’s suspicions by focusing her eyes back on the mess behind her. Several people were picking up the shattered glass and using towels to soak up the spilled champagne.

  The woman continued to riffle through the paperwork; she even pulled the chair out to search under it. Maggie took the opportunity to head to the wine bar. She made a quick stop at the bathroom to relieve the pressure that had built up from the two glasses of champagne and one orange mango.

  As soon as she walked into the wine bar, she spotted Silas with a bucket of beer and a glass of red wine. He was sitting at the same table they had sat before. She slid in next to him and pointed to the glass. He pushed the glass to her, and she took a sip. Then she tilted her head at Silas. “Okay, let’s hear it?”.

  Silas pulled the journal from the seat next to him and set it on the table.

  “There are addresses on this list that are part of a drug conspiracy.”

  “That’s the case you’re working?” Maggie asked.

  “We have it pretty much wrapped up now.” He held up the pages and set them back next to him on the bench seat.

  “What do art aficionados have to do with drugs?”

  “The addresses in this book will tell us exactly where the art will be delivered”—he patted the journal—“with their frames filled with cocaine. Whoever accepts delivery of the package are the distributors. End of the line.”

  “You took the addresses, so how will they know who to deliver to?”

  “I’ll make copies and drop it off at lost and found.”

  “Impressive, Silas. Now tell me, how did the drugs get on board in the first place?”

  “The divemaster brings them on board. He swaps an empty oxygen tank for a tank filled with cocaine during the dive trip. He loads the tank with all the other dive tanks then fills the frames with the drugs. The dive equipment locker is in the same storage room as the frames. They assemble the art the night before the auction. Several people bid on any piece of art with a black frame and then give the addresses of the receivers.”

  “How did you figure it all out?”

  “Jay and I followed the divemaster on our dive excursion. We watched him swap the tanks at the bottom of the ocean. It’s extremely dangerous and difficult to do, but he swapped the tanks with hardly any effort. We also attached a tracker on his uniform and recorded him in that storage room for a long time. When we checked it out, we found the drugs.”

  “What did you do with the drugs?”

  “Nothing, we left them in the frames but attached a tracking device to each one so the D-E-A can locate and arrest the guys at the end of the line.”

  “Does my painting have drugs in the frame?

  “If it did, your friend would have lost the bid. It’s all set up.”

  “So, you solved your case?”

  “Not one hundred percent. We got the middle and the end figured out, but what we don’t have is the guys responsible for the air tank at the bottom of the ocean.”

  “Isn’t that the most important guy?”

  “Yep, that’s why we’ll head back to Cozumel. We had to figure out how it played out on board the ship. We have limited jurisdiction on the Mexican side, so it’s a little touchy. It’s likely the cartels, and they might be hard to infiltrate, but at least we interrupted another avenue for their delivery into the United States.”

  “Well, be careful, it seems a little dangerous for two civilians to be taking on,” Maggie said.

  “Civilians? Maggie, you have no idea, but don’t worry about us. You might want to focus on your boyfriend.”

  “What do you mean? And he is not my boyfriend.”

  “He checked us out with the security on board.”

  “What do you mean, checked you out?”

  “He went to Randolph and said we were suspicious. Randolph played it off. He couldn’t tell him we were on the job. Some detective you got there.” He laughed. “I’m surprised you haven’t filled him in on who we are.”

  “Obviously I don’t know ‘who you are,’ and I just didn’t want to expose too much, especially for Alex’s sake. You saved my life once. I owe you that much. Plus, I don’t know if Mike is covering for his sister. I just don’t have anything figured out yet, so I decided to keep my cards close.”

  “Well, I’m impressed. You might make a good detective.”

  Silas smiled again, but Maggie ignored his attempts to be charming. Her brain was busy thinking about David and one of the things he had said about Kimberly. “Her damsel-in-distress routine.” What did he mean by that? Also, was Joanie using Mike to cover her tracks—and if he figured it out, was he going to keep silent?

  Saturday

  Chapter 22

  Grand Cayman

  “I honestly don’t feel like going off the ship today,” Maggie said.

  “I was feeling the same way,” Mike said. “Let’s go have breakfast and then go talk to Joanie. I thought of a few things I wanted to ask her.”

  They made their way to Deck 5, where they turned toward the main dining room. Maggie froze. She whispered to Mike: “That’s the guy we saw talking to John at breakfast the day I passed out. Remember the bartender?”

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  “It’s him. I’m sure,” Maggie said. “It looks like him from the back anyway.”

  “Except he’s in civilian clothes, so how can you be sure?”

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure, but it’s a lead. Let’s follow him. He’s probably heading off the ship. He’s carrying the backpack,” Maggie said, pulling Mike in order to have him follow her.

  “What the heck, we don’t have anything better to do,” Mike said.

  They followed the man at a safe distance as he walked off the gangway and stepped onto the pier. He did look like John from the back, Maggie thought. The air was thick, and it was already hot. Maggie wished she had remembered to put on some sunblock as they walked several blocks, careful to keep enough distance from the man so as not to be detected.

  They continued to follow him until he reached Cayman Island National Bank, where he disappeared through the automatic doors.

  “Now what?” Maggie asked. “Should we follow him in?”

  “Why not, he doesn’t know who we are.” Mike started for the door. When they walked in, they saw the man’s back at a teller station. They stood at the center counter where the deposit and withdrawal slips were stacked. They watched as a bank employee dressed in a white linen suit came and led the man into a back office. As the man turned, both Maggie and Mike ducked. It wasn’t the bartender they had been following. It was John. He was alive.

  As soon as he disappeared into the office, Mike grabbed Maggie’s arm and pulled her out of the doors of the bank. His face looked panicked.

  “He’s alive,” Maggie said, “but he isn’t…”

  “Obviously,” Mike said. “I can’t believe my eyes. He’s alive.”

  “What do we do now?” Maggie said.

  “I’m going to try to take a picture with my phone,” Mike said. “It will be proof that Joanie didn’t push him overboard. She was telling the truth.”

  “Do you think he has the money in the backpack?”

  “It was all issued in cashier’s checks, but if he did convert it to cash, it’s probably the reason why he drove to Fort Lauderdale instead of flying with the rest of us. He couldn’t transport that much cash on a plane. You have to declare anything over ten thousand grand.”

  “How did he get it on the ship?”

  “Security isn’t as careful on a ship. They’re looking for someone to sneak on a bottle of wine or a bit of marijuana.”

  “Surely not a million bucks and a couple of pounds of cocaine?”

  Mike looked at Maggie with narrow eyes. �
��What?”

  “Never mind.”

  Mike motioned for Maggie to follow him behind a small silver thatch palm clump at the corner of the building.

  It was almost a half hour before John came out of the bank. He still had the backpack slung over his shoulder; it appeared to be quite a bit flatter. Whatever he had in there, he might have left in the bank, Maggie thought.

  John paused at the top step of the bank and looked around. Mike and Maggie remained hidden until John reached the bottom of the steps. Instead of walking back the way he came, he headed north toward the place where they were hiding. Mike leaned over Maggie and snapped a few pictures.

  “Hopefully, I got a good enough picture to get Joanie released.”

  “But what about the money?” Maggie asked.

  “Well, at least we know where it is, if that’s what he was doing at the bank.” Mike snapped a few more pictures, but now he could only get John’s backside.

  “What else would he be doing in a Cayman Island bank?”

  “And why would he fake his death?” Mike asked.

  “I know someone who could find out,” Maggie said as they watched John disappear around the corner of the bank. He was going in the opposite direction of the ship.

  “He’s not going back,” Mike said.

  “Let’s keep following him and see where he goes,” Maggie suggested. Mike had already started back toward the bank. When they reached the corner, they paused before exposing themselves. John just continued walking down the block toward the center of the island.

  “He sure looks like he knows where he’s going,” Mike said.

  They cautiously walked two blocks behind John, sticking to the side of the street closer to the buildings in case they had to duck in somewhere. But it wasn’t far enough. John stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, adjusted his backpack, and turned abruptly down a side alley.

  They were not sure if that was his route or if he had even spotted them. Maggie and Mike ran until they came to the edge of the block. Mike held Maggie back with one arm as he took a step around the building. He yelped. Maggie rushed to Mike who was now laying on the ground holding his head. John had obviously been waiting in the alley with a stray brick that was now laying on the ground next to where Maggie knelt.