Mask on the Cruise Ship

by Melanie Jackson

  Later, on a rare Good Samaritan impulse, I took over for him so he could wander around some more. I wheedled Madge into sketching a Raven face for me. I’d put it up in my room at home, beside my poster of Judy Garland belting out at Carnegie Hall.

  “You’ve caught them perfectly,” someone said, and we turned to see a woman with glossy black hair tucked into a cap. She smiled, displaying lots of laugh wrinkles. “The features in Tlingit art tend to be broad and bold, very distinctive.”

  There was something distinctive about the woman, too — distinctively familiar. I goggled at her before gasping out, “You’re Elaine Hébert! Except for the cheerful expression, you look just like your stepsister.”

  The woman held out her hand. “Having heard what Julie’s been up to, I’m semi-cheerful, at any rate. I’m sorry to intrude. I guessed you were the Galloway sisters; Captain Heidgarten told me you might be here. I wanted to thank you both. I understand that, because of you, we may be able to retrieve the mask.”

  “The particular Galloway you should thank would be my intrepid sister Dinah, not me,” Madge said, shaking Elaine’s hand.

  I stopped gaping at Elaine long enough to demand, “Did the police catch Julie and Gooseberry Eyes?”

  Elaine shrugged sadly. She also remained calm and nice when, in my excitement, I forgot to hold the umbrella straight and bonked her on the head with one of the spokes. “The police nabbed Julie, though they haven’t recovered the mask yet. No sign of Julie’s accomplice, either — er, Gooseberry Eyes.”

  Elaine sighed and looked even sadder, which made me feel twice as bad about bonking her on the head.

  “I knew Julie was feeling bitter, but I didn’t know how deep the bitterness went,” Elaine confided. “You see, a couple of months ago, at Julie’s insistence, I had an art-dealer friend assess Julie’s paintings. Julie’s been intense about her art for years, ever since our parents died. I think plunging into art was her way of blocking out the pain of only having known my dad and stepmother — her real mother — until she was age five. My own mom, who was divorced from my dad, raised us and, I’m afraid, always favored me.

  “Anyhow, Julie had been begging me to invite him over, so I did. First she prepared dinner for all of us,” Elaine explained. “Julie’s pretty good in the kitchen — I’d finally convinced her to move in with me, out of her dingy apartment on Cadwallader, on the basis that she’d be earning her rent by cooking.

  “Even a delicious meal couldn’t soften the art dealer’s opinion once he got a look at her paintings. His verdict was far different than Julie had hoped. He said she had little or no talent. Suggested, if she enjoyed painting, she keep it up as a hobby while she pursued something she was talented at, like cooking, or sports.

  “He meant that, at least, as a compliment, but Julie was FURIOUS. Threw a tremendous tantrum in front of the art dealer and myself. Said I’d told the art dealer to find fault with her art so she wouldn’t continue with it. And then — she trashed my house! A complete rampage. It was dreadful.”

  With the back of her palm, Elaine wiped away a tear. “Julie showed up the following afternoon at the Vancouver Roundhouse Community Center, where I was lecturing to a high school class, and — you’ll never believe it — ”

  “Oh yes I will,” I piped up. “She threw another tantrum. I know all about it.”

  Surprised, Elaine mustered a wan smile. “Well, Captain Heidgarten told me you were quite the sleuth, Dinah.” She wiped some more tears away. “Anyhow, I thought a cruise would cheer Julie up, but it only seems to have inspired her to criminal scheming.

  “And yet Julie has other, genuine talents. As I say, she’s a wonderful cook and athlete. Maybe, with help, one day she’ll learn to appreciate herself rather than trying to be something she’s not.”

  With that pronouncement, Elaine broke into out-and-out sobbing. On a rare tactful impulse, I refrained from blurting out my next question, which was why Elaine had forbidden Julie to talk to people about the mask and about myths in general. If she wanted Julie to feel better about herself, why not let her do some public speaking or whatever?

  Instead I thought about how Julie, that evening at our place, had remarked of the Raven: I think if you were that clever, that capable of fooling others, it would be hard to stay on the straight and narrow all the time.

  Which, in a way, had been a confession, if only I’d listened more carefully. Julie thought she was Raven-clever — and had no intention of staying on the straight and narrow.

  Madge was thinking about Julie too. She mused, “It’s as if Julie has a warped mirror in her brain, which distorts her view of life.”

  “Please, Madge,” I begged. “I want to know about Gooseberry Eyes.”

  Elaine shook her head. “Julie’s accomplice got the wind up. The Blandish Arms Hotel concierge described a young man with pale-colored eyes who bolted when the police cruisers pulled up. Maybe the police will find the mask, eventually … ”

  Her voice trailed off, leaving a hopeless silence that only the patter of rain filled.

  Chapter 16

  Now you see Dinah — now you don’t

  VANISHED, WITHOUT A TRACE!

  Everyone stopped in front of the gigantic Hans and Roman poster before continuing on, with excited murmurs, into the ballroom where the two magicians would be performing. The poster showed them ushering a young woman into a large, upright coffin, then opening the coffin lid to reveal — nothing!

  “I wish they could make some of these pounds vanish,” remarked Madge, with a regretful glance down at her tummy. Which was, needless to say, flat and slim as ever.

  “STUFF AND NONSENSE!” Ira Stone bellowed, dark eyes blazing.

  Madge looked around, startled, but he was bellowing at Lavinia O’Herlihy. Ira was hobbling as fast as he could to outpace Lavinia; she was in grim pursuit.

  “Stuff and nonsense. My sentiments exactly,” Jack grinned. He lifted Madge’s hand, which he was holding, and kissed it. “All we were eating was salmon, my vain one-and-only.”

  “Pounds and pounds of it,” Madge mourned.

  It was true. After touring the Saxman Totem Park, we’d sat down to a massive salmon feast in the Saxman Tribal Village. And I do mean massive. Ketchikan is known as the King Salmon Capital of the world; its peaceful waters teem with nummy fish.

  I understood how Madge felt. I had tucked back so much I was practically sprouting gills.

  Ahead of us, Lavinia clamped a blue-veined hand on one of Ira’s stooped shoulders. “Trying to ditch me after all I’ve done for you,” she scolded. Tightening her hold, she marched him on into the ballroom.

  “Poor Ira,” said Mother. “Lavinia’s determined to snag him, no matter what. I bet he signed on for this cruise expecting it to be restful.”

  I giggled. “Maybe Hans and Roman will make Lavinia disappear,” I suggested.

  “She’d just faint,” said Jack, wrinkling his freckled nose. No doubt he was remembering the dousing he’d received of Lavinia’s perfume.

  Brrring!

  “My cell phone,” Mother said in surprise. “I thought I’d turned it off. I didn’t want it pealing out while Hans and Roman were busy extracting rabbits from hats.”

  She rummaged for the cell phone. This was just as much of a magic trick as anything Hans and Roman could do, the purse was so crammed.

  I cleared my throat. “I switched the phone on, Mother. I left a message for Mr. Wellman.”

  “Hi, Mr. W.,” Mother said into the phone. She gave it to me and warned, “Don’t talk too long. If you come in after the lights go down, you won’t be able to see us. And vice versa.”

  “I’ll find you,” I promised. “And no frantic signals to get my attention, Mother. It’s so humiliating.”

  On the phone, my agent interrupted. “Dinah, keep in mind that I’m in my sixties now. I have only so much time left on this earth.”

  I backed against the wall, out of the stream of people. “Sorry, Mr. Wellman. I wanted to
ask you a few questions about Julie Hébert.”

  Mr. Wellman’s voice grew uneasy. “I heard a news report about theft, false identity, a police arrest and a lot of commotion in general, all to do with the Empress Marie. You wouldn’t be involved in that commotion, would you, Dinah?”

  “Heavily,” I assured him. “But c’mon, Mr. Wellman. You spent time with Julie. Did she ever mention any friends to you? I’m trying to figure out who Goose — who her accomplice is.”

  “Ah, accomplices. The plot thickens,” said Mr. Wellman, who, when he forgot to lecture his clients about being well-behaved, had quite a touch of melodrama. “I never heard her mention anyone, except Elaine. Hold on, though. The one time I visited her at Elaine’s house — what a messy place, by the way! — Julie had a call on her cell. Answering it, she said, ‘Hi, Peabody.’ Peabody!” Mr. Wellman laughed. “Do you know, Mr. Peabody used to be a dog in a cartoon I used to watch as a boy. Those were the days of great animation, I tell — ”

  “Never mind about childhood nostalgia,” I cut in rudely. Honestly — grown-ups! “If Julie’s caller was ‘Peabody,’ the plot doesn’t just thicken, it cements.” I was remembering the note in Mr. Trotter’s side office, on top of the empty file folder:

  Mr. Trotter —

  Borrowed the contents of this for a while. Hope you don’t mind.

  — Peabody Roberts

  “Peabody’s the name of someone who works at Happy Escapes Cruise Lines,” I exclaimed. “I have to tell Mother and Captain Heidgarten. Not to mention Mr. Trotter. His mustache will probably fall right off! If only the Hans and Roman show wasn’t starting now … ”

  “Hans and Roman? Hey, I’d love to represent those two. Maybe you could approach ’em after the show and recommend Wellman Talent. You could … ”

  I placed the edge of a bitten-down fingernail on the cell’s mouthpiece and scratched it back and forth. I was getting quite good at this. “Uh-oh, static, Mr. W. Bye now.”

  What Mother had warned me about had happened. I’d talked too long, and now the ballroom was dark. I stood helplessly inside the now closed double doors, unable to see anyone.

  Anyone in the audience, that is. On a shimmering silver stage, Hans and Roman, in sequined tuxedos, were brandishing wands. Out of the wands’ tips flew huge pink bubbles that bounced through the air and into the audience. Hans and Roman grinned above their pointy beards. In mid-air, the bubbles launching from the wands changed to blue.

  Then Roman — I knew he was Roman because of the black R sewn on one of his sleeves — sneezed. “Uh-oh, I need a hanky,” he proclaimed. He grabbed a passing bubble. It turned into a handkerchief the size of a mini-tablecloth! And, this being the Empress Marie, it was a blue mini-tablecloth with a fat white ship imprinted on it.

  Applause and whistles. I forgot about worrying how to find Mother, Madge and Jack and joined in. Cool, I thought, and — Hey, Dad, you should see this.

  Which is what I always think when something really special happens, though I never, never tell anyone.

  Hans and Roman bowed. Then Hans, who had a big black H on his sleeve, announced: “And now it’s time for our famous vanishing trick!” With his wand, he gestured at a large, upright silver coffin. “One lucky member of the audience gets to disappear, poof!” A swirl of smoke puffed from the tip of his wand. “No more creditors, no more taxes, no more mothers-in-law … at least until we magically bring you back, that is!”

  Hans roared at his joke, but then hurried on as only very weak chuckles limped from the audience. “Er, yes. Well! Let’s search for a victim — why, what am I saying? I mean, volunteer. Searchlights, please!”

  Two silver orbs began gliding slowly over the audience. Spotting an anxious-faced Mother, along with Madge and Jack, near the stage, I waved to show her I was there.

  Then I realized how useless this was. I was in pitch-darkness.

  People were oohing and giggling. Who would be the victim/volunteer?

  Somewhere beside me, one person wasn’t oohing or giggling. I recognized a familiar whine.

  “I waited and waited, and my relief person never showed up. The nerve!”

  Fill-In, complaining again. Brother. She couldn’t even relax long enough to enjoy a Hans and Roman show.

  The spotlights shifted over more tables. There were Lavinia and the long-suffering Ira. Talbot and his sharp-faced mom. Evan. Mr. Trotter. Captain Heidgarten.

  One of the spotlights moved, spilling on me. Hey, now Mother, Madge and Jack would see me! I waved to attract their notice.

  Fill-In ranted on. “What I’m saying is, I waited, and the guy didn’t appear. I was hopping mad!”

  I kept waving, all the while glancing over the people in the other pool of silver light: Lavinia, Ira, Talbot and Sharp-Face, Evan, Mr. Trotter, Captain Heidgarten …

  The spotlight melted off them and fell on another group of tables.

  “ … waited and waited … ”

  Roman boomed, “That girl waving at the back — we have a volunteer! An enthusiastic one, too. Strange. Usually we have to force someone to — er, I mean, how wonderful! Who wouldn’t want to vanish courtesy of Hans and Roman? Why, I believe that’s the Empress Marie’s singing sensation, Miss Dinah Galloway!”

  I should have been thrilled that the famous Hans and Roman knew about me. But I was staring at the dark patch where the other spotlight had been.

  Fill-In’s words were echoing in my brain. I waited and waited and the guy didn’t show. The guy didn’t show.

  The last frozen chunk of memory melted. I saw in my mind the Mendenhall Glacier Visitors’ Center exactly the way I’d seen it through the binoculars.

  And I knew, I knew, who Gooseberry Eyes was.

  Chapter 17

  Gooseberry Eyes, the less-than-ideal host

  Gooseberry Eyes wasn’t traveling by land. He’d hardly spent any time on land at all during this trip.

  Gooseberry Eyes was here on the Empress Marie. Why hadn’t I realized it before? Probably, dang it, because I’d liked the guy. He’d been here all along, and he was here now, in Hans and Roman’s audience.

  Well, if this audience liked surprises, it was in for a treat now. I sucked in a deep breath, preparing to belt out that I’d unmasked the mask thief. The applause was dying down; this was the perfect time.

  Roman beckoned to me.

  I opened my mouth —

  A strong arm curved round my waist and hoisted me out of the spotlight.

  “Bravo!” cried people from all over the ballroom. Even Fill-In stopped whining to exclaim, “Remote magic! I never!”

  I never got to utter the faintest chirp. A hand muzzled my mouth, and I was whisked along the dark wall behind a row of tall, potted plants. Not that I could see the plants; I just felt their broad leaves brushing against me.

  “Wait a minute,” protested Hans and Roman, but applause overwhelmed them. Making someone disappear — without bothering to use their special magic coffin! What a triumph!

  Meanwhile, my abductor opened a door behind the potted plants, whose thick leaves blocked the resulting wedge of light from the audience’s view.

  He whisked me through the door and beyond any possibility of help.

  “This is a service route, you see,” he panted, chuckling. He bore me down a long white corridor that soon bent into an even longer downward slope. “Very busy in the daytime, don’t you know. But rarely during showtime. No calls for room service — our clients are occupied with the quality acts we book. Alas, the curtain is about to come down a bit early on one of those acts. The loudest one, our singing star, Dinah Galloway.”

  I’d been kicking fiercely; that hadn’t deterred him. So instead I chomped down hard on the palm of his hand.

  “OW!” Gratifyingly, he removed his hand and stopped to shake the feeling back into it.

  “Let me just see your gooseberry eyes, Gooseberry Eyes,” I said. Reaching up with both hands, I stretched his eyelids way to the sides. A dark-tinted contact lens s
prang out of each eye. I plucked off the bushy white wig, too, while I was at it.

  “You’re too young for Lavinia,” I observed as gooseberry eyes blinked at me in surprise from wrinkled folds of skin. Makeup-wrinkled folds of skin. Close up, I saw that now. “You should have stayed at the Happy Escapes office, Peabody Roberts, instead of sneaking aboard the Empress Marie in an old man’s disguise. And Lavinia should have enjoyed her afternoon at Mendenhall Glacier instead of storming about, fuming, because you’d disappeared. To sneak up the trail and push me in the lake, I might add.”

  Peabody Roberts gave a dry giggle, like the sound of dead leaves being stepped on and crushed. “You might, indeed!”

  “And you’re definitely old enough to know better than to steal,” I continued.

  I didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, I began to yell.

  “That won’t do you any good at all,” Peabody snapped. “The walls are solid — to protect our precious passengers from being disturbed by the jangle of room-service trolleys.”

  I ceased yelling. It was time to breathe, anyway. “How did you manage to sneak aboard as Ira Stone?” I demanded.

  Peabody retrieved the wig and stuffed it into my mouth. Then, clutching me closer, he resumed scuttling down the long slope. “I borrowed the passenger list from Trotter. Wanted to see who’d canceled. Whose place I could take. It was Julie’s idea.”

  He giggled again. “It was Julie who got me hired on as a summer student. Julie, forging her famous sister Elaine’s name on the recommendation letter. Hee-hee!”

  Peabody was panting again, but evidently the pleasure of bragging was worth the discomfort of talking while he hurried. And got kicked. “Ow! Now cut that out … I stayed after hours one day, logged on to Trotter’s computer and, on the master passenger list, changed Stone, Ira from cancelled to confirmed.”