Holly Would Dream

by Karen Quinn

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Where…what about John?”

  “He had a family emergency and had to leave the ship this morning. I believe someone died. It was all very sudden,” Darwin said.

  “What?” I shrieked. “You can’t be serious. John wouldn’t leave without telling me first. That’s impossible.” I started to pace. The blood drained from my head so fast I saw stars. How could he abandon me like this? He didn’t tell me where he’d hidden my trunk. I’d never find it now. I felt so betrayed. “Did he leave a note or a message for me?”

  “Not that I know of,” Darwin said, “but I can check.”

  “Yes, please,” I said. “Would you, right now? It’s very important.”

  After Darwin left, I sat down at the desk. This cannot be happening, I thought. Everything was fixed and now it’s broken again. What do I do? Think. Think. I picked up the phone and dialed Carleen.

  “I was just on my way out the door,” she said. “Shall we meet at the tender, darlin’? It’s leaving from Deck Three.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t go,” I said, my voice shaky. “Something’s come up.”

  “Well, hay-ell,” she said. “Frank will be disappointed. I think he was counting on tailing you today.”

  “I—I’ll meet up with you in town,” I said. “There’s something I need to take care of first.”

  “It doesn’t involve edible panties, now, does it?” Carleen teased.

  “No, nothing like that,” I said.

  As soon as we hung up, the phone rang. It was Darwin calling to say that there were no messages for me from John. It appeared that something must have happened in the middle of the night, because nobody knew he was leaving until today, not even his girlfriend, a tour guide slash librarian slash karaoke hostess. His roommate said that he gave notice this morning and disembarked carrying his tan suitcase and a large brown trunk he had picked up in Istanbul. He left no forwarding address. With a dead thud in my pit of my gut, I realized that I had been had.

  Too Darn Hot

  I THREW ON A PAIR of jeans and a tight black T-shirt that said, “Liv’n Out Loud” in rhinestones. Then I put on my cherry tree Choos, which had been packed in the bag that was returned the day before. When that city bus decimated my wardrobe, these were the only surviving pieces. Maybe they would bring me luck.

  Grabbing the elevator to the Lido Deck, I walked past the pool and made a beeline for the stairs leading to the bridge, and Captain Paul’s office. If there was information that would help me find John, Captain would have it. But when I arrived at his office, the door was closed and I was asked to wait.

  Ten minutes later, Denis King emerged with Annie and Manny. Annie looked red-faced and contrite, as did Manny.

  “Can I go swimming now?” Annie said.

  “No,” Denis said. “There will be no swimming for you today and there’ll be no donkey ride in Santorini, either.”

  “Fine,” she said. “I didn’t want to swim and I didn’t want to ride on a stupid ass, anyway. C’mon, Manny, let’s go to the game room.”

  “No,” Denis said. “You’re to stay in all day. And you know that Prada backpack I bought you in Athens? You can use it only on weekends until further notice. Manny, take her to the cabin, please.”

  “No problem, sir,” Manny said, taking Annie’s elbow. As they left the office, Manny winked at Annie. Yup, she’d be swimming today, just as soon as Dad was out of sight.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  Denis shook his head and sighed. “Annie was caught in the meat freezer with a bunch of children she’d snuck out of the Kid’z Club. Apparently she was charging five dollars for a peek at Aston’s body, ten dollars to take a picture with him. What am I gonna do with that child?”

  I stifled a giggle because Denis looked so worried. “Look at the bright side,” I said. “She’s an entrepreneur like her dad.”

  “Obviously,” Denis said. “She’d already made forty-five dollars when we caught her. It’s just, it’s so disrespectful to Aston. Raising a child is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I only have her for summer and Christmas.”

  I looked at Denis, who seemed down to earth and wise, and made a split-second decision. “Denis,” I said slowly, “I need to see Captain about something important. Would you come with me, you having gone to law school and all?”

  “Did someone threaten to sue you over the edible underwear?” he said, smiling. “Was there patent infringement?”

  I returned the smile, but nervously. “If only it were that simple, but no. I’m in this awful trouble.”

  I hated for Denis to know how badly I’d screwed up. But I needed help, so I let go of my pride and asked for it.

  “…so you see, I didn’t know the costumes were real and I certainly never meant to steal them. Only now John the butler seems to have stolen them, so I’m totally screwed, aren’t I?”

  Captain and Denis nodded their heads.

  Captain picked up the phone and asked the hotel manager to bring him John’s file.

  A pair of metal crutches leaned against Captain’s back wall. Sydney had broken his big toe when she threw that dumbbell at him. I wondered if Denis knew what havoc his fiancée had wreaked. Probably not.

  “We’ll check John’s paperwork,” Captain said. “Maybe we have an address or phone number that’ll help locate him.”

  “Oh, oh, oh,” I said excitedly, “there’s a cop from Interpol on board. His name is Frank Flannagan. Do you think we should get him involved? He’s investigating me.”

  “Frank Flannagan?” Captain said. “He’s not with the police. He’s a Tiffany Star Society Member and an orthodontist from Niagara Falls. Who said he was a cop?”

  “John,” I said. “The maid told him. That’s why he said he had to hide the trunk. He was sure Mr. Flannagan was following me. He specifically asked to be seated at my table.”

  “He always requests the captain’s table,” Paul said.

  “You are gullible, aren’t you?” Denis said sadly.

  I sunk down in my chair, wanting to melt.

  There was a knock on the door. An officer in a starched white navy-looking uniform stuck his head in and handed over John’s file. After perusing it, Captain said, “There’s some information here. His family’s address. We require it so we can reach our staff when they’re on holiday.”

  “Oh, I just remembered,” I cried. “He’s Italian royalty; he told me.”

  Both Captain and Denis regarded me with dubious expressions.

  “What?” I said. “You think he was lying?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him if he would steal the dresses,” Denis said.

  “But he had such good manners,” I said. “And he really cared about his job. Did you know he shared best practices with butlers from other ships so he could delight and astonish his guests?”

  Captain seemed unimpressed. “I’m calling Interpol, the real Interpol. Let’s let the professionals track him down.”

  “They’re already on the case,” I said. “I’m told my boss notified them, naming me as the prime suspect.”

  “So that’s why those Turkish police came looking for you,” Captain said.

  I nodded. “Please don’t call them yet. Let me go to Santorini and see if I can learn anything. Someone may have seen him boarding a ferry or something. I’ll dig around. If I can fish up some good leads, maybe Interpol won’t arrest me.”

  “I wish you’d let me help,” Denis said. “This doesn’t sound like the kind of thing a young woman should try to handle alone.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I said modestly, but of course I totally wanted his help.

  “What else am I gonna do today?” he said. “Supervise Annie in her cabin? Manny can do that.”

  “And very well, I’m sure,” I lied.

  Denis reached over and touched my hand. “Besides,” he said, “it’s in my nature to rescue damsels in distress.”

  He is so sexist, I tho
ught. Okay, I can live with that. “So, have you rescued any recently?”

  Denis smiled. “No, but I never shy away from the opportunity.”

  Either he didn’t remember saving a drenched damsel in the rain or he didn’t want to toot his own horn. I liked to think it was the latter. “Sydney won’t mind if you spend the day with me?”

  He checked his watch. “She’s with a trainer right now and has a conference call that’ll go on all afternoon. I think she was happy to get Annie and me out of her hair. Syd’s a great girl, but she doesn’t have the maternal gene. Not yet, anyway.”

  I do. I have the maternal gene, I thought; I have lots and lots of them.

  Captain held up John’s file. “I’ll copy this for you,” he said, “but let’s call the police as soon as you get back. Learn what you can. Then we’ll turn this over to the professionals.”

  “Thanks, captain—I mean, Paul.”

  As we said goodbye, Denis offered Captain his hand, but Paul handed him his “I don’t shake hands for sanitary reasons” card.

  I, on the other hand, tried to give him a breezy one-armed hug. But Paul planted a wet one right on my kisser. It seemed unfair to Denis.

  “For this one,” Captain said, pointing at me, “I’d do anything.”

  Oh, well, it was good to have friends in high places.

  I’ll Be Seeing You

  THE WATER WAS SURPRISINGLY rough as the tender vroomed toward Santorini. This was starting to feel like a fool’s errand. John was probably long gone. Who would remember him anyway? Thousands of day-trippers get on and off the cruise ships and ferries in Santorini every week. On the plus side, I’d get to spend the afternoon with Denis. Maybe we’d get lucky and have a madcap Mediterranean adventure like Cary Grant and Grace Kelly in To Catch a Thief. Come to think of it, we were trying to catch a thief.

  At the dock, we could go one way and check out the ferries or the other way and catch the tram. We started with the ferry pier, which was packed tight with tourists. That would be the most logical way to leave quickly. There were two clerks selling tickets for all the lines. Neither remembered seeing John. Nor did any of the ticket takers recognize him. Lucky for me I’d never had a butler before, because I’d taken a picture of us together in case I never had one again. With no success at the ferries, we made our way to the tram.

  “Oh, shoot,” Denis said.

  “What?”

  “I forgot my BlackBerry. Do you mind if we go back to the ship?”

  “We’ll only be a few hours,” I said. “It might do you good to take a break from work.”

  He considered my suggestion, radical as it seemed. “I have the kind of job where people have to be able to reach me,” he said. “It’s like being a doctor. I’m on call day and night.”

  “Do you like that?”

  “Well, life isn’t always what one likes, is it?”

  “No, it often isn’t.”

  “But I suppose I could take a few hours off,” Denis decided, “and enjoy a little freedom.”

  “Good for you,” I said, leading the way to the tram ticket window.

  “Have you seen this man?” I asked the agent, a leather-skinned fellow with hairy patches on his elbows and neck. I showed the photo, covering my face with my thumb so Denis wouldn’t see it. When I took the picture, my hair was a mess, I wore my glasses, had raccoon under-eyes, and sported lovely headgear. It was not the image I wanted to publicize.

  “Let me see the picture,” Denis said playfully.

  “No,” I said. “I look terrible.”

  He snatched the camera from my grasp. “It can’t be that bad. Ooh, that is one ugly picture,” he laughed. Then he examined it more closely. His eyes went from the camera to my body, to my face, then back down to my cherry tree Choos. A flash of recognition crossed his eyes. His body stiffened.

  Oh, no, I thought. He remembers. Do I fess up or clam up?

  “I don’t have all day,” the ticket agent said.

  Denis appeared puzzled, but handed the camera back to the agent.

  “Yes, yes, he was here this morning,” the man said eagerly. “I remember because he was carrying a megalos trunk.” He held his arms far apart to show how big it was. “It took up a lot of room in the car and I made him buy a ticket for it.”

  “A ticket for a trunk?” I said. “That’s bold.”

  “If it would take a donkey to carry something up the cliff, you have to buy a seat for it. That’s the rule. Why do you complain? You should be happy because now I remember him.”

  “Oh, yes, I am happy, thank you,” I said. “Can you tell us anything else? Was he traveling alone? What was he wearing?”

  “I can do better than that,” the agent said. He left his partner in the booth and invited us to follow him to a cramped office. Turning on an old Dell computer, he clicked on a file of photographs. “Our security camera takes a picture of everyone as they enter the building. Let’s see, he was here at least two hours ago, maybe more.” He started to scroll through the photos until he came to a guy with an oversize brown case. “Is this your man?”

  “Great Scott, it is,” Denis said.

  “Look, he’s alone,” I added, clapping enthusiastically.

  “Can we get a copy?” Denis said.

  “I’m afraid that would be impossible without the proper papers.”

  Denis reached into his wallet and pulled out a wad of bills. “Will these do?”

  Silently, the man clicked the print button and handed us the photo. “This never happened,” he said like we were in a James Bond movie. “Follow me.”

  After escorting us into a tramcar, he slammed the door and said, “Good luck and Godspeed.”

  The tram rose so rapidly it felt like I’d left my stomach back at the station. We were being carried up the mountain at what seemed to be a ninety-degree angle, but that’s probably an exaggeration. They say it takes only two minutes to get to the top, and I could believe it. We were moving like a fierce trade wind.

  “Let’s keep this for evidence,” Denis said, filing the photo in his backpack.

  I was busy snapping pictures of the bay, the volcano, the terraced hills, and the ship, which looked like a white cigar from this height. Finally, I set the camera down and took in the breathtaking view myself.

  That’s when I saw her.

  It was quick, but there was no mistaking the face. Sitting opposite me on the tramcar speeding down the mountain, Tanya Johnson, the devil herself, whizzed past my line of sight. Sammie was with her. Tanya was boldly staring out the window. When she saw me, her eyes bugged out and she leaped up, whomping her head on the top of the car. There were suitcases on the seat. She yelled to me, but by then the car was too far below us to see or hear anything.

  “Who was that?” Denis asked.

  “It was Tanya and Sammie,” I gulped.

  “You mean Witchy and Dopey are here? Now?” he said.

  “I am so dead.”

  Prelude to a Kiss

  MY FIRST INSTINCT WHEN we stepped off the tram was to run, just in case Tanya and Sammie decided to ride the tram back up. But then I realized they would never chase me. Tanya was too lazy. She’d board the ship and wait while sipping expensive champagne and tapping her designer-clad foot.

  “Come,” Denis said, taking my hand. “There’s no time to sightsee.”

  Right, I thought. We need evidence.

  We hiked past the small boutiques and elegant cafés until we found a brick road. Denis approached a convertible taxi that was waiting at the corner and then beckoned me to get inside. “There’s an airport on the other side of the island.”

  The cab took off toward the back side of town, zipping down winding paved roads that led toward the sea. I was surprised at the immensity of the island, the lushness of the meticulously tended vineyards, the olive, pine, and cypress trees that dotted the landscape. A half hour later, we stopped at a surprisingly large, modern airport. It was teeming with casually dressed, deeply tanned touri
sts who were leaving the Greek paradise, and bleary-eyed, lighter-skinned visitors who were arriving.

  We made our way inside and checked to see if there was a flight to Rome. That was where John was from, at least according to his file. Indeed, there was and it was leaving within the hour. We ran toward the gate, but were stopped by security. No ticket, no entry. Two men in combat fatigues stood near the metal detectors, both carrying large machine guns.

  “Quick,” Denis said, “we’ll buy tickets.”

  Rushing to the counter, we stood in a long line that moved agonizingly slowly. By the time we got to the front, the departure time for the flight to Rome had come and gone.

  “What do you think?” Denis asked. “Should we buy tickets just to get to the gate area? Maybe he’s going somewhere else?”

  “Why not?” I said. “Let’s do it.”

  Unfortunately, without our passports, they wouldn’t sell us tickets.

  Looking out the window as we made our way back in the taxi, my eyes welled. Is this it? Is this the end of the story? How could I have trusted John? Am I that bad a judge of character? It felt like Alessandro’s betrayal all over again. I burst into tears.

  Denis took my hand. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “John stole the trunk. He’s the bad guy.”

  “Yes, but if I hadn’t taken the dresses in the first place,” I started. “I’m responsible.”

  “When we get back to the ship, we’ll call Interpol,” Denis said.

  “Sure,” I said, wiping my wet cheeks.

  “At least we got the picture of John with the stolen trunk,” Denis added.

  “True,” I said, “but there’s no proof the costumes are in it. For all anyone knows, I could have sold the dresses on the black market. I didn’t, but the police could think I did. I don’t want to go to jail,” I said, blubbering all over again.

  “Look,” Denis said gently. “I’ll come with you to talk to the authorities. You won’t be alone.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled. Checking my watch, I realized we had four hours before we had to board.