[Scarlet Wilson 05] - Miz Scarlet and the Perplexed Passenger

by Sara M. Barton

  “I think someone tripped me,” I said aloud.

  “None of us moved, Scarlet.” My mother looked frightened.

  “But someone tripped me!” I insisted. “I felt it!”

  “We would never do that to you. Oh, the poor dear is imagining things, Thaddeus,” my mother clucked anxiously. “Does she have a concussion?”

  “I’m not imagining things!” I argued, feeling churlish. “Somebody tripped me!”

  “Shh!” Kenny hushed me, his lips close to my ear. “Not here, Scarlet. We don’t want a scene.”

  Ten minutes later, sitting in a seat on the ferry with a plastic bag of ice on my foot, I felt like crying. Somebody really did trip me. I was sure of it. “Why won’t you believe me?”

  “Sweetheart, we were there. We saw....” My mother tried to comfort me, convinced I was off my rocker.

  “This sometimes happens with soft tissue injuries. I’ve seen patients who snapped a tendon on the tennis court....” the surgeon remarked, ready to provide a medical explanation for what had happened to me.

  “Oh, forget it!” I shook the makeshift ice pack from my foot, rose up from my seat, and hopped away. I needed some air.

  “Scarlet!” Kenny called to me. I just kept going. If they weren’t going to believe me, I’d rather be alone.

  I made my way to the railing and leaned over, letting the tears of pain and frustration fall into the turquoise waters below. The view was magnificent, but at that moment, I was just too furious to care. The sun could have caught fire and burned as I stood there and it wouldn’t have mattered to me. Someone deliberately tripped me, damn it!

  “Scarlet.” Kenny kept his voice low and soothing.

  “Go away,” I replied through clenched teeth.

  “I believe you.” He put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. “I saw the guy’s reflection in the storefront window.”

  “You did? Why didn’t you chase the bastard?” I demanded, pulling away. “Why did you let him get away?”

  “My first concern was you.”

  “But....”

  “It all happened so fast and by the time we picked you up, he had already merged into the crowd. I got a look at his face, though.”

  “You did?”

  “I did. Does that make you feel better?”

  “Only if you can pick him out of a lineup,” I snapped.

  “I can do better than that.”

  “You can?”

  “Sure. We’re going to beat the bum back to the ship. We’re going to stop him from boarding the Liberty of the Seas.”

  “How can you know that?” My faith was still tenuous at best.

  “We’re returning on the ferry.”

  “And?”

  “He didn’t come aboard.” Kenny kissed the top of my head and held me tighter. “And that means it’s going to take him the better part of an hour to get back to King’s Wharf.”

  I studied him, trying to figure out if he was just trying to appease me, but he seemed sincere. I wanted to believe him, but I needed some more convincing. “So?”

  “We’re going to set a trap for him. There’s only one way to get back on that ship. Marley and his people will be waiting when he tries to come aboard.”

  Relief washed over me like a wave, leaving me feeling hopeful as I realized the importance of this fact. If the creep didn’t get back on the ship, there would be no murder.

  “Brilliant,” I declared, throwing my arms around him. My confidence in Kenny was definitely improving.

  “I agree. Some people would say it was positively masterful.”

  “Would they?”

  “They would. Now kiss me again, this time with feeling.”

  By the time the Sea Express catamaran tied up to the dock, my right ankle was throbbing and I was a liability for Kenny, who was chomping at the bit to get to the gangway before the killer arrived.

  “Go,” I urged him. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes!”

  “Where is Kenny off to in such a hurry,” my mother asked. “Did he leave to fetch you a pair of crutches?”

  “He had an emergency that required his attention,” I replied, trying hard not to spill the beans. Until the killer was in custody, I didn’t want to jinx it by assuming it was a done deal. With my luck, the bastard will get away, and then where will we be?

  “Let me help you,” Thaddeus offered gallantly. “We’ll take it slow on the way back, Scarlet. And I’ll wrap your ankle when we get back to the stateroom. You should take some Advil, not only for the pain, but for the swelling, and keep it elevated.”

  “In other words, the RICE principle -- rest, ice, compression, elevation,” I nodded, accepting Thaddeus’s arm and struggling to keep my weight off my right ankle. My mother rolled along beside us.

  “You could have been killed, sweetheart. My heart was in my throat when I saw you flying through the air like that.”

  “You’re very quick on your feet,” Thaddeus added.

  “That’s because she’s been climbing that mountain ever since she was a child. If you only knew how many times I had to bite my tongue when she and her brothers played on the rock ledges. Scarlet always was a tomboy. She insisted on keeping up with the others, even if it meant being a daredevil.”

  “Do you suppose that’s part of why she’s such a successful solver of mysteries, Laurel? She doesn’t mind jumping in with both feet.”

  “No, if you ask me, it’s more like she doesn’t have enough good sense to stay away from danger. It’s like a magnet, drawing her in every time.”

  “That’s one way to look at it,” he nodded, “but you must admit her heart is in the right place. What if the FBI had arrested Kathleen for the murder of her husband? That would have been a travesty, especially because she’s not the killer.”

  “I just wish she wouldn’t take so many chances,” was my mother’s response. I shook my head in disbelief.

  “You two do realize I’m right here, right? You’re discussing me like I can’t hear you.”

  “Oh!” Steering her motorized wheelchair with one hand, my mother reached up for mine with her other. “It’s just that I worry about you. I thought when Kenny came back to Cheswick that you’d settle down to your work at the inn and leave the investigating to him. He was trained to solve cases, Scarlet. You’re not.”

  “I must disagree with you on this point,” Thaddeus told my mother candidly. “Be honest, Laurel. She’s got a knack for it. You told me what she did for Larry when that deranged killer set his sights on her.”

  It was true. When my friend Larry was kidnapped by a creep from her past, I disarmed him with cocktails and canapés.

  “That’s an exception to the Miz Scarlet rule,” my mother acknowledged. “Her only defense against dangerous people is her intuition. It’s not like she carries a weapon or knows jujitsu.”

  “At least she knows when to duck,” Thaddeus kidded. My mother was not amused.

  “My point is that she could be killed one of these days!”

  “I don’t think Kenny would let that happen....”

  “But he might not be there at a critical moment, and then where would she be? Lying in a ditch along the side of some godforsaken road or locked up in some maniac’s attic!”

  My mother’s anxiety level was rising quickly. It was time to step in and speak up.

  “Again,” I reminded them, “you two are talking about me like I’m not here.”

  Chapter Eighteen --

  Those words had absolutely no impact on their conversation. It was as if I was silenced by some invisible wind that swept the sound of my voice out to sea. Perhaps I can only be heard in the Bermuda Triangle. I’m sure not being listened to here.

  “I just wish she would stick to innkeeping. That’s hardly a hazardous activity,” Laurel groused. “Why would anyone want to kill an innkeeper? But as a sleuth, she’s asking for trouble.”

  Obviously I was not going to g
et that horse back in the barn. If anything, it looked like my mother was going to beat Ole Bessie to death, revive the poor nag, and do it again. It was her way of staving off the fear that something terrible would happen to me. I chalk that up to the fact that I’m the only girl in the family. She always expected my brothers to dig themselves out of their assorted predicaments because they were males. Females, in her view, weren’t supposed to get tangled up in anything questionable. That’s because we’re the creatures made of sugar and spice. We certainly don’t poke our polite, well-behaved noses where they don’t belong, lest we need rescuing from vile villains and creepy cretins.

  “But, dearest, your daughter has managed to discern some very important clues in this case, clues that other people missed. Would you deny her that?”

  “Why can’t she do it from a safe place, Thaddeus? Why must she get so deeply involved?”

  “Sometimes that’s the only way you find the answers. I know that’s not what you want to hear, Laurel, but it’s true.”

  They continued to ignore me, chattering on about how I did sometimes get myself into situations that were beyond my abilities and why it was especially dangerous for me when I figured out the bad guy’s identity. I hadn’t heard my mother talk to anyone this way since my father died. I suddenly felt like a kid again, in the back seat of the family station wagon, listening to the adults on a long drive. In a strange way, I kind of liked it. I felt safe, knowing they cared that much about me. Maybe I hit my head when I fell on the sidewalk. Either that or I’m getting dotty in my old age.

  It seemed to take forever to traverse the distance from the ferry dock to King’s Wharf. The Liberty of the Seas stood out against the darkening sky, an illuminated beacon glowing with hundreds of lights, waiting to welcome us back for the evening party. It was a shame I couldn’t muster any enthusiasm to join the crowd. I’d be the party pooper holed up in Stateroom 6615 with my swollen ankle propped up on a pillow, topped with a bag of ice.

  “Boy, am I going to sleep tonight,” I announced, limping along. “It’s been a long day.”

  “To say the least,” my mother agreed. “It’s not exactly the vacation we hoped for, is it?”

  “At least we were there for Kathleen in her time of need. Can you imagine what might have happened if we hadn’t taken this trip?” Thaddeus reflected. “Not only would George Delaney have been chalked up as a drowning victim, poor Kathleen might have joined him at the bottom of the ocean.”

  “Fate is an unusual thing, isn’t it?” My mother slowed down her wheelchair as we drew closer to the line of people waiting to board. “We think we don’t matter, that the world goes on just fine without us, and then something like this happens. Suddenly, we’re all too aware of our responsibilities as human beings.”

  “Fate...destiny....” I sighed, too tired for a philosophical discussion. “It’s six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

  “Nonsense! They are not interchangeable concepts, Scarlet. Fate befalls us, but we, as individuals, must determine how we will live our lives. Destiny is ours to make. We choose to put our indelible mark on those circumstances and turn negatives to positives. We are the masters of what our lives become, but only if we take the wheel.”

  I was blindsided by the unexpectedly passionate reply from the woman stuck in a wheelchair. It was sometimes easy to forget Laurel’s struggle to get out and about, all because she made it seem so easy. Suddenly compelled to glance down at her as she rolled along in the glow from the lamp posts, I saw the fierce determination etched into every line on her face and the tension in the purposeful hands that gripped the arm rests of her chair. There was no mistaking the depth of Laurel’s belief in the subject. Fate had indeed handed her a cruel blow on the day that car struck her, leaving her permanently disabled. She could have surrendered to her frustration when her legs were irreversibly damaged, but instead, she made up her mind that nothing was going to stop her. She continued to grow as a person. That’s what a real heroine does. She never gives up and never gives in.

  “Well said,” Thaddeus smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Your mother is a remarkable woman, Scarlet.”

  “I know, Doc. She continues to amaze me.”

  Laurel took that as my feeble attempt to apologize, no doubt cutting me some slack because of my exhausted, injured state. She changed the subject.

  “It looks like most of the passengers have already returned to the ship.”

  Thaddeus concurred. “The line seems to be moving rather quickly.”

  We greeted the friendly duty officers with pleasantries about the fine evening and, having nothing to declare, quickly cleared Customs. As we arrived at the gangway, I expected to see a contingent of FBI and Royal Caribbean security personnel waiting. Instead, there were two or three uniformed employees waiting to check passengers back onto the ship and Kenny was nowhere to be found.

  “Where can he be?” I admit I was disappointed that he wasn’t there to greet us. I turned to scan the horizon, wondering if he had passed us in the throng as we returned to the ship.

  “He is right here,” said that familiar voice, coming up behind me. “I went to the infirmary to grab a wheelchair.”

  “Oh, you’re the best,” I sighed, sinking down onto the seat, wincing as the back of my foot hit the right wheel. “Ooh, that hurts!”

  “Allow me.” He carefully lifted my swollen ankle and gently placed it on the foot rest. “How is that?”

  “That’s much better. Thanks.” I shifted in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position that didn’t put pressure on the swelling appendage.

  “Milady,” he replied, bowing from the waist with exaggerated gallantry. “Where wouldst the fairest Scarlet care to go?”

  I didn’t have a chance to answer him. Before I could open my mouth, my mother jumped in.

  “She’d like to go back to the stateroom. Thaddeus is going to wrap her ankle and give her something for the pain. And then I’m certain she’d like to get some rest.”

  Kenny gave me a long, imploring look that spoke volumes; he had plans that didn’t include Laurel or Thaddeus. There was something going on, something he didn’t want them to find out about it. What could it be? Had the killer shown up at King Henry VII Memorial Hospital? Had something terrible happened to Kathleen? That’s not his upset face, Miz Scarlet. That’s his worried face. Whatever the trouble is, it hasn’t happened yet.

  “Well, maybe after the good doctor patches me up, Kenny and I can go grab a drink and relax in one of the lounges. It’s been a long day,” I said. A relieved sigh slipped out of his mouth; he tried to pretend he was stifling a yawn. Yes, there was definitely something going on.

  “A drink? Is that really a good idea?” My mother frowned.

  “Yes, Mother, it is. Fate handed me a crummy day and I’m going to drown my sorrows in something tall and tropical. Call it my destiny,” I smiled wanly, conjuring up my ten-year-old smart Alec self.

  “Don’t be facetious, Scarlet. It doesn’t become you.”

  “Since when?” I countered, keeping my tone light. It was time to wrestle control back from the woman who had raised me, lest she feel compelled to take over my life just because I was injured. I knew her anxiety over the events during the past few days drove her to do it, but I wanted to be front and center for the show when the FBI nabbed their man. “You suddenly want me to turn into Good Manners Gertie? ‘Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am.’ Or am I supposed to reform myself into Polly Polite and ask ‘Mother, may I?’ every time I want to do something? I am what I am. I am who I am. I’m Scarlet Wilson, not some timid wallflower who sits quietly and watches life from the sidelines.”

  Glancing over at her, I could tell Laurel was more than a little reluctant to let me out of her sight. But I was well past the age of eighteen and I certainly didn’t need my mother’s consent to grab a margarita. I had voted in presidential elections on at least five occasions, although I admit one or two of those ballots I had cast had been less than s
tellar choices on my part. Despite the fact that I, too, was in a wheelchair, I still had every intention of standing my ground. While my ankle might be throbbing from the damage done to tendon and muscle, it wasn’t a terminal condition and Laurel knew it. My foot would heal.

  Kenny seemed to sense an opening to exploit. He quickly made his intentions clear. “We won’t be late.”

  “That’s what you two said last night.”

  “Yes, but we made headway,” I pointed out helpfully, “which we wouldn’t have if we hadn’t worked so late.”

  The seconds ticked on as we waited for Laurel to acquiesce. She wasn’t going to give up easily. At last she shrugged, signaling that she knew the decision was out of her hands. I grinned mischievously, acknowledging the figurative white flag she hoisted up the motherhood flag pole. She groaned, shaking her head.

  “I will bring her back to your cabin in one piece, Mrs. W.” Kenny vowed sincerely. “You have my word on that.”

  “See that you do, Kenneth, or you and I will have to part ways.” She was only half kidding.

  Twenty minutes later, with my ankle wrapped in an ACE bandage and my trusty boyfriend manning the handlebars of my wheelchair, I was pushed back through the hallway to the elevator. We took it up to Deck 12, where the evening party crowd gathered at the entrance to the Viking Crown Lounge, chatting as they held half-empty glasses.

  “Let’s do Olive or Twist,” Kenny suggested, steering me into the comfortable, classy bar. He found a good spot to park the wheelchair that was out of the path of bar patrons and settled into the club chair beside me. “What will you have?”

  “I’ll have a strawberry margarita, light on the tequila.”

  “I’ll be right back with that.”

  I leaned back, trying to get comfortable. My foot felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, but that was nothing compared to the dull, constant ache. Distract yourself, Miz Scarlet. Focus on something else.