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

by Sara M. Barton

  “No thanks, Mom. I think I just want to rest.”

  “Why don’t we hit the Solarium and find a couple of lounge chairs?” Kenny suggested. “You can rest there while we sail off into the sunset.”

  Yes, he’s definitely up to something. Is this supposed to be Marco and Missy’s chance to steal the CVS bag? Are they going to break into our stateroom again while we’re out? I might as well be a good sport and play along.

  “How can I say no to an offer like that?”

  We rode the elevator up with Laurel and Thaddeus. I listened to their conversation, struck by the fact that they had no idea the man who attacked me at the zoo was now sailing on the Liberty of the Seas.

  “Maybe now we can have some peace and quiet,” my mother remarked, her relief obvious. “I’m so glad I don’t have to worry about that maniac coming after you again. I hope the Bermuda police find him and put him behind bars.”

  “That would be great if they do.” I gave her a brief smile before turning my head. I didn’t want the woman known as the Wilson family’s human lie detector to notice my pants were on fire. Boy, are you going to be in hot water when your mother finds out what you’ve gotten yourself into now, Miz Scarlet. If you get hurt, she’s never going to forgive you, and if you die, she’s going to spend eternity castigating you for your idiocy.

  “I don’t know about you three, but I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse.” Thaddeus patted his stomach. “And tonight, I just might.”

  “I could go for a medium rare steak,” Kenny laughed, “and a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.

  “I’m famished and I don’t care what I eat,” I sighed. “I went light on my breakfast because I was expecting to have a big lunch in Flatts Village.”

  “This just hasn’t been your day, Scarlet,” Laurel clucked, her maternal instincts kicking in.

  “Not my day, not my week....”

  “At least we have a reservation for the first dinner seating,” she said, taking the high road. “We’ll eat soon enough.”

  “Not soon enough for me,” I groused. After so many hours without food, my stomach rumbled in protest.

  “Come and find us when you two are ready to go back down to dress for dinner,” my mother called over her shoulder. “We’ll be sitting near the window.”

  We left them at the entrance to the lounge, where some of the other passengers had already begun to gather. The sweet sounds of a steel drum filled the air with an inviting Caribbean vibe.

  “Dance party!” hollered a man in a vibrant green tee shirt and a parrot hat, waving his arms above his head as he beckoned his fellow passengers. An impromptu conga line formed behind him and began to snake its way through the aisles. Kenny did a quick two-step around a couple who were hooting and hollering on their way to join it, never losing his grip on my wheelchair.

  The Solarium was nearly deserted when we arrived. A dark-haired, red-suited woman was doing leisurely laps in the pool, keeping the steady pace of an experienced swimmer. Nearby, a bald man sat, head bowed, reading a paperback. I glanced up. On the deck above us, people gathered at the ship’s railing to catch their last glimpse of Bermuda. Suddenly, the relative calm was broken by a rather shrill squeal.

  “Tom, you old wolf!” a redhead howled with delight, greeting a man who wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet. “Where have you been hiding? We missed you at the bridge game last night!”

  “And now begins the journey home,” Kenny announced, doing his impression of documentary filmmaker David Attenborough, with a nod to the passengers above us. “As the massive migration gets underway, the homo sapiens begin to present their own special behaviors....”

  He steered me towards the wall of windows, where a line of lounge chairs offered a decent view of the harbor. With a hand from him, I carefully rose from the wheelchair and settled myself down on the closest padded chaise, my casted foot a dead weight. Hoisting it up with both hands, I placed it gently onto the seat and shifted carefully to find a good position. The purple toes peeking out from the royal blue cast were like miniature eggplants. Would I lose the nail on the big toe? It bore the brunt of the impact when my foot hit that curb. That ought to put a crimp in sandal season.

  “Care for a drink?” he asked, rising to his feet.

  “I sure would” I replied.

  “What would you like?”

  “Something fruity would hit the spot. Any chance I could have a virgin mango daiquiri? I’m on pain medicine.”

  “I’ll do my best. Shall I grab something for us to nibble on while I’m at it?”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  “I shall return shortly, my love.”

  The ship’s engines hummed as we began the process of casting off from King’s Wharf. For some of the passengers, their adventure was winding down. For me, it was just beginning. In less than forty hours, we would be disembarking in New Jersey. I had no idea how we were going to accomplish our goal of nabbing Marco and Missy by then.

  I lay back on the chaise lounge with my eyes closed, letting my mind drift. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how Todd and the others were going to lure Missy and Marco into their trap. Where would it happen? Perhaps they would put me in the library and let me pretend to find the book George left there. Or would I be sitting at a computer desk and come across an email that revealed intimate details of Marco’s activities?

  “Excuse me, miss.”

  I opened one eye and found a friendly man in a Royal Caribbean uniform standing there. His name was Juan, according to his name tag. “Yes?”

  “I am still stocking the bar. Forgive me, but I must go and fetch some supplies. I will be right back,” said the bartender. In his hand was an empty Planters peanuts carton.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’m enjoying the peace and quiet,” I assured him. It was true. This was the first quiet moment I had had all day long and I wanted to relish it.

  Kenny must have swum to shore and is now picking the mangoes in a grove for that daiquiri of mine. How else can he explain the long absence?

  From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the dark-haired woman as she climbed out of the pool and joined the bald man. She grabbed the yellow-and-white towel as she sunk down on the chaise lounge beside him, drying herself off. She laughed at something he said, reaching out to put a hand on his arm, a gesture made by a lover. A moment later, her companion closed his book, picked up his sunglasses, and slipped them on. I could tell they were getting ready to leave. When she stood up, he did too.

  Well, it looks like Kenny and I will have the place to ourselves. Maybe we can take a short nap before we rendezvous with the lovebirds in the lounge.

  The bartender returned with his arms full. He unloaded a couple of mesh bags of lemons, limes, and oranges, tossing them on top of the bar, and disappeared once more.

  Kenny still hadn’t returned. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for this. Maybe he’s talking to Marley.

  A security officer in a blue shirt came through the area, making the rounds. “Good evening, miss. I hope you’re enjoying your cruise.”

  “I am at the moment,” I assured him, peering up at him through half-closed eyes. There was no need to bore the poor man with my vacation woes.

  A couple of women wandered through the Solarium on their way to the spa, discussing the possibility of hitting the Catacombs for some nightclub action after dark. They lamented their prospects for finding any single men. Their voices soon faded, and when they did, I embraced the soothing tranquility of the Solarium. Please do not disturb Miz Scarlet -- she is in the zone.

  Lying on the chaise lounge, I felt the warm breeze tickle my skin. My eyes began to grow heavy. At this rate, I’ll be in la-la land before Kenny gets back.

  I began to daydream about a return trip to Bermuda. There were so many things I wish we’d had the chance to do on this cruise, but with the crazy events of the past couple of days, almost all of our time had been taken up by one crisis or ano
ther. Next time, Kenny and I might try snorkeling. That would be fun. And I’d like to stay at a place that has its own beach. Maybe we could book a room with a balcony, so we can sit outside at night and watch the sun set.

  I started making a mental list of all the activities I wanted to do when I returned to this subtropical paradise. I really enjoyed meeting Cedric’s cousin and wondered if I could get Niles to teach me some of his favorite drink recipes. I added a boat trip, maybe out to the shipwrecked H.M.S. Vixen. Wouldn’t that be appropriate, given our experience with Velma Sue and the band? Kenny and I could pack a picnic lunch for a trek on the Bermuda Railway Trail and explore all the out-of-the-way places most people never discover.

  Click! The unexpected sound came just inches from my ear, startling me. I knew I should react, but my sleep-deprived brain was a bit slow on the uptake. What was that noise? Why do I think I’m in danger?

  “Where is it?” I heard a man ask, his voice tight with anger. I listened for the answer, but it never came. I found myself wondering about the identity of his partner in the conversation. I hesitated to open my eyes for a peek. I didn’t want to intrude on their private conversation. It’s odd how the ears perceive noises when one’s eyes are closed. He sounds like he’s sitting next to me.

  “I asked you a question, damn it!” Rough fingers gripped my wrist for the second time in one day.

  “What the hell?” Instantly alert, I recoiled from the man whose dark, sinister eyes were inches from mine.

  “Where is it?” he growled again, tightening his hold on me.

  “Where is what?” I honestly had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Don’t play games with me, lady!”

  My mind was filling quickly with questions. Where is Kenny? And what about Todd -- shouldn’t he be here with his agents, their weapons drawn? At the very least, Marley’s people should be rushing to my rescue. Even that bartender was missing in action. Isn’t anyone watching out for me?

  “Help!” Talk about feeble. That one word emerged from my mouth as nothing but a whisper. Maybe that’s because I saw the tip of that Victorinox Swiss Army Skipper fishing knife glinting in the late afternoon sunlight, as George Delaney’s killer flashed it just below my nose. Oh, crap. He’s got yet another of those damn knives! I’m in big trouble now. How could we get this so wrong? Todd promised me I’d be safe. This doesn’t look like safe to me. What can I do?

  “Fine, we’ll do this the hard way,” he declared, standing up suddenly. I had no choice but to hop to my feet, given that he yanked on my arm.

  “Ouch!”

  “I’m going to ask you one more time, and you’d better tell me the truth, because if you don’t, I’m going to slice you up into small pieces and feed you to the fish!”

  As much as I didn’t want to think about the threat to my person, there was a part of me that knew he meant business. You have to get the hell out of here, Miz Scarlet, any way you can. Fight dirty. Be quick about it. Whatever you do, don’t fight fair, because you’re dealing with a man who has already murdered at least two people.

  If only I had a weapon, I thought to myself. Oh, wait. I do!

  Chapter Twenty Five --

  Keeping my gaze centered on his scowling face, lest he figure out my plan, I pulled my right foot back, turned it forty five degrees, and whacked that illegitimate son of a banshee right on the shin with my royal blue cast. And just for good measure, as he was bent over and hugging his injured limb, I gave him a hard shove to the head, tipping him keister over tea kettle. The knife clattered as it skidded across the deck and I ran like a maniac towards the Windjammer Café. Or rather, I ran a step and hopped, ran a step and hopped, ran a step and hopped.

  “You bitch!” I heard him roar just seconds before he grabbed my hair, whirling me around like his own personal Raggedy Ann, ready to beat the stuffing out of me. The silver dagger in his hand and his menacing eyes gave me fair warning. It was time for me to fish or cut bait, as the saying goes. I might not be able to run very fast, but I still was pretty good at one thing, and that one thing was going to give me a fighting chance to stay alive. It was time to cause a ruckus. Surely someone on the deck above would look down and see me fighting off my assailant.

  “Take your pea-picking, slime-ball hands off me, you bastard!” I hollered at the top of my lungs as I dipped to avoid his attempt to stab me. “Leave me alone, you freaking maniac!”

  “I’ll kill you!” he screamed at me, his right arm raised above his head. “You’re a dead woman!”

  “Murderer! Murderer!” Even as I bellowed that word again and again, I wondered what Dame Agatha Christie would think of me. My mind flashed to Murder on the Orient Express. “Women are like that. When they are enraged they have great strength,” her chef de train had remarked. Damn straight, I decided. Someone’s going down and I can tell you right now that it’s not going to be me!

  “FBI, Hudsucker!” Todd came busting onto the scene at full speed, his weapon drawn on the man with the knife. “Show your hands! Now!”

  Marco froze in his tracks, unable to move as his brain scrambled to process what was happening to him, but the fingers of his left hand remained entwined in my hair. Unsure of what move I should make, I turned to Todd for direction. He was quickly moving forward, his weapon trained on my assailant.

  “Do it!” screamed a female agent in an FBI tee shirt, her gun aimed at a point just over my shoulder. She meant business too. I waited, expecting my assailant to surrender and the agents to move in with handcuffs, but that didn’t happen. Why isn’t Marco giving up?

  Whirling around on one foot, I saw his eyes narrow as he suddenly seemed to recognize the spot he was in. That’s when he looked at me. In a flash of intuition that was driven solely by the terror coursing through my veins, I knew the danger wasn’t over. I was about to become a human shield.

  At that moment, Kenny stepped into view. The panic that contorted his face into something almost unrecognizable told me that he understood Mark Hudsucker’s evil intentions towards me.

  “Scarlet, hit the deck!” he screamed.

  Hit the what? My rattled brain struggled to comprehend the command. I saw his frantic arm motions. It looked like he was pushing something down. Oh, I get it. Hit the deck. But how do I that with this big baboon holding onto me like I’m his prize banana? I have to make him let go of me.

  With both hands locked together, I struck Marco’s chin, forcing it up towards the sky, and even as he tried to recover his equilibrium, stumbling backwards, I broke free from my assailant’s grasp and did a belly flop onto the floor.

  “Damn!” When my casted leg smacked the hard deck, I gasped, unable to avoid the blast of pain that came my way.

  “Don’t move, Scarlet!” a voice instructed me. “Just sit tight a minute, until we’ve got the suspect under control.”

  Don’t worry. I couldn’t get up if I tried. Lying on my stomach, I fought back the tears. For the third time in less than twenty four hours, my poor foot endured yet another brutal blow.

  “Scarlet?” I felt a hand on my back. Kenny knelt down beside me. “Honey, are you okay?”

  “I-I-I....” I had to take a breath and exhale slowly before I knew the answer to his question. “I think so.”

  “Get Dr. Van Zandt. He’s in the Windjammer Café!” the man from Mercer Security commanded one of the security officers. “And where’s the nurse?”

  “I’m right here,” a woman crossing over the water bridge called out to us. Seconds later, she dropped to her knees beside me and leaned in, her face close to mine. “Where does it hurt?”

  “The better question is: “Where doesn’t it hurt?” I corrected her tersely.

  “Okay, let me try again. What hurts the most?”

  “My foot is killing me.”

  “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the pain?”

  “Eleven.” Now that I was safe, the rush of adrenaline was fading and my body was beginning to protest its latest assau
lt. I was sure to have new bruises on hands, elbows, and knees. Note to self -- next time you decide to do a dive, aim for the pool.

  I watched as Mark Hudsucker was led away in handcuffs by two FBI agents. Defiant even in shackles, he jerked, twisted, and butted his body, trying to break away. Knock yourself out, creep!

  No sooner had they disappeared than one of the Royal Caribbean security officers radioed for assistance to cover an incident. “All available personnel, I need backup in the H2O Zone!”

  Kenny was swept away in a wave of blue-shirted Royal Caribbean security officers. He tossed a promise over his shoulder as he ran. “I’ll be back!”

  “We’ll get you fixed up in no time. Just let me get you into the chair and I’ll take you down to the infirmary.” The nurse released my wrist, deciding my pulse was strong enough, and got to her feet. She put her arms around my waist, clasped her hands together, and hugged me tight.

  “Mmm!” I moaned, my teeth clenched, as my personal Florence Nightingale lifted me up and plopped me down on the seat of my wheelchair.

  “Nurse!” One of the security officers came running into the Solarium. “We need you! Things got wild when two kids collided. One of them suffered head trauma and another one split his chin open when he fell face first on the deck. The doctor needs you to assist!”

  “I’m coming,” she told the agent, before turning her attention back to me. “You sit tight. I’ll be back for you.”

  “But....” I started to protest, but my plea went unheard. She took off at a gallop, her medical bag in hand. Gazing around, I saw that Juan hadn’t returned to tend his bar. The rubberneckers who had watched Mark Hudsucker throttle me from their perch on Deck 12 had already departed for the big splash zone catastrophe with the squirt gun set. Once again, I was alone in the Solarium.

  Here I am, battered and bruised yet again, and no one’s here to console me. I feel like a little kid, ready to wail, “I want my mommy!” Do you believe it...at my age? It’s ridiculous. I should just pick myself up and move on. I would, except for this damned cast on my foot and the hurt that won’t leave me alone.